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[mayumml]

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

[mayumml]

Midori is not a good lover

The REAL Sou Hiyori relationship headcanons <3

first off, you don’t know if he genuinely likes you or not and most likely will never be sure 

Maybe you’re a piece of pawn in his stupid chess game but what can you do?

Midori manipulates and gaslights you just like with anyone else, you’re the primary victim that receives most of it though

He seems like a man that didn’t have a heart, and he literally doesn’t 

Feels like he doesn’t know how to act in a relationship or more like he doesn’t care enough to

You think he’d choose his work over you anytime 

He’s so on and off with his affection

He treats you like everyone else, particularly more strict with you sometimes and scolds you more often than the other participants

This fucker is adamant about “being fair to all participants and not letting a personal relation change that” and yet you feel like he’s being the most unfair to you

Even more passive aggressive when it comes to you, he loves to bring up the past and laugh when you get pissed

But then sometimes, he would appear out of nowhere and gives you a quick peck

You’d expect him to be open to PDA, and yet he only ever initiates (and allows) any affection when it’s just the two of you 

You’re conflicted, though, at certain times he’ll choose a timing where most of everyone is gathered in one place and approach you with the most affection you’ll ever receive from him

He makes sure everyone is looking, maybe it’s his way of showing his twisted sense of superiority?

Midori very quickly reverts back to ignoring you if he is satisfied 

You learn that he is extremely possessive

Yes, you get fed up with his shit many times and he knows it well

Does he ever apologize? Never. 

Like ever. 

You could confront him, but he’ll give you the same saccharine smile and feigns innocence

“What’s wrong with me showing my lover off to everyone? Does that upset you?” 

When you try to explain that’s not why you’re upset, he convinces you that you’re overreacting and somehow makes you seem like the bad guy for “not wanting to be seen with him.” (bitchass) 

Weirdly loves small talk 

Midori would interrogate you whenever he pleases and ask about your favorite color to wear on a rainy day 

You cant tell if he really cares about your responses at all because he just stands there and blinks with his smile and throws follow up questions at you

Kind of feels like he wants to know everything about you but also nothing at the same time 

Remembers small, itty bitty details about you

It’s endearing but also freaks you out because he remembers which angle you prefer to wear your collar

Very touchy when he wants to be, but acts like a jerk when he decides he doesn’t feel like it 

Limited use of pet names because he prefers calling you by your name 

Will call you sweetheart (mockingly most of the time), “my favorite participant,” or a shortened version of your name

Likes to receive but doesn’t give, unless he needs something

You don’t know why you’re still with him 

Midori is very good at making you feel special but also worthless

Will give you overly expensive presents that you don’t need and stare at your reaction as you open them 

(does he think this makes up for his neglect as a partner?)

Very likely to give you jewelry with his initials, he might have one with your initials but won’t wear it 

Sucks at comforting

He actually just doesn’t comfort at all

He makes things worse when you’re upset 

“You’re crying? Humans really are sentimental beings, after all. I guess crying is all that you’re capable of.” 

Let you play and style with his hair in private 

Gets defensive and change the subject when you mention Shin’s history with him

Avoids personal questions like the plague 

Actively tries to poke into every corner of your life. Boundaries? What’s that?

Not a very good partner, he’s just not a good person in general

Midori rarely mentions your relationship in front of the other participants, but when he does, he refers to you as his lover

Will pair you with him with the red light, he knows you don’t have the guts to kill him 

Urges you on to kill him way too often 

He gives you a smug knowing grin and a kiss when you can’t do it

Don’t try to physically hurt him, it turns him on (he won’t hesitate to break your arm)

Remember when I said he’s very possessive? 

Fucker treats you like an object

no one takes what belongs to him

Won’t be the type to defend you and won’t fight if someone hits on you

He would direct the conversation elsewhere and weird out whoever it is somehow (always works) 

Shows up a few days later with news that the attacker mysteriously jumped of a building (willingly?) 

His romantic side is very unconventional

“Would you love me even if I was a worm?” 

“Worms are rather dirty and invasive, are they not? I’d rather not deal with a pest, thanks.” 

[mayumml]

⚠️ FLASHING / GLITCH WARNING / SPOILER WARNING ⚠️

[mayumml]

Warmth

Everyone knew not to get involved with him.

She knew, better than anyone, a little too well in fact. His deadly unexpected swings of impulses, his notorious reputation as a violent and dangerous gang leader, or his outrageous delinquent behaviors that evidently differs from her own perfect records. She knew of it all.

Yet, not once did that stopped her from seeking for him, yearning for him and loving him. Her adoration for him started from when, she had no recollection of it. But her feelings needed no reason. All that she needed was for him to be happy, to not lead a regretful life, to shine as bright as he always did.

Though, everyone knew fate can often times be cruel.

“Sano Manjiro.” His name rolled so smoothly off her tongue, almost like butter, oh how she adored speaking it. It was still him, the same Manjiro, the same Mikey, the same boy she loved. Yet, whoever was standing in front of her seemed so foreign that she thought her mind was playing tricks on her.

The unfamiliar did not come from his bleached white short hair contrasting his once flowing head of gold, nor did it come from the pale skin hugging his now small bony frame. His eyes. His eyes spoke different from they did before. Ebony black eyes were full of life and ambitions, yet replaced them now were voids that screamed silence.

If only she could burst into tears and jump into his arms mindlessly, she would. But how foolish would she be to ignore the fact that the boy she loved was merely just a ghost of the past? No longer would it be strong warm arms that welcomes her in an embrace, but the cold dead air instead. Maybe even a gun to her head.

Stood on the old cracked concrete were the two, eyes bored into each other’s, time seemed to drag out way longer than ever before. No sense of familiarity was present between them, almost as if the bond they created was just that of another life. The thought that, perhaps, her insignificant friendship with him was merely but a delusion she harbored since all those years ago, ate away at her mind.

“…You.” His voice was cold and lifeless, as if it belonged to a corpse. The years he spent away must have stolen every ounce of emotion left in him, leaving him nothing but a shell with an echo. Salty tears threatened to surge and burst from her eyes, reasons hard to tell.

Was it the fact that the voice of the blazing Sun, which blared through the empty nights all those years before, was long gone? Or was it because of the longing for his voice, which she so desperately tries to deny, tricked her to daze at merely the sound of it? Oh, how desperate she was.

“How long has it been?”

“How did you find me?”

He was still straightforward and to the point, which she had found to be an endearing and charming quality of his that he kept. However, the endearment is limited when paired with the chilling glare directed straight at her, like he could pierce through her skull with just his eyes alone. And he would.

“I always find you, Manjiro.”

“…”

“You hid so well for the past 10 years, but I still found you.”

“I told you not to look for me.”

“You know how I am.” He did. He knew much very well how she was like, he knew each of his friends like the back of his hand. Whether or not he still does, she could not recognize. And for the very fact that he knew her so well, she had no doubts that she had to find him. From the shining gates of heaven to the darkest depths of hell, he needed to be found.

“Leave.”

“No, Manjiro, I refuse.”

“Keep your stubborn act and you die.”

Despite his warning, she took a step closer with gentle movements. It was not that she wanted to spite him, nor did she doubted his threats of spilling her blood, she was simply not afraid. She knew death was close to her doors when she decided to seek for the Sun.

Oh, the vicious he, a man of overbearing power and pervasive fear across the lands. His name bought fright, at times even hatred. Yet, he was just Manjiro. Her Manjiro. The boy that was so very warm. If ever his warmth fades and leaves him cold, then naught can stop her from embracing him in her own blaze.

Her lips pressed, eyes alarmingly calm, sauntering with unsourced confidence, unseen was the sorrow she felt within. He knew of her obstinacy, he knew the simple request to not search for him would go on deaf ears, yet he did not undertake any further actions to prevent himself from getting discovered. Maybe, just maybe, she would like to be the small flicker of hope for him this time.

The vacant basement voiced no sound but the clicking of a gun. Held against her forehead, threatening to paint the floor with her brains if she dared to get any closer. His eyes still empty and unfeeling, almost as if one hand is not pointing cruel death towards his light.

“Don’t shoot.”

Black eyes imperceptibly widened for an instant, the gun sat still. She lifted a hand to lightly graze his, slender fingers wrapped around the gun’s handle were so frigid and scarred, so dried and bony. He stared at her, not a word left him yet she was adamant to decipher what he was trying to convey. Their skins felt like burning against each other when her warm palm met his scraped knuckles.

The slight flinch when they touched, she did not miss. His eyes narrowed, daggers dug into her head, yet he did not move. She held his rough hand holding the gun delicately, as if handling cold hard porcelain that would shatter to pieces if touched a little too harsh. Her fingers slowly guided the gun down to his side as she stepped closer, hands never leaving each other’s. He basked in the long forgotten comfort given from her touch.

Eyes to eyes again, her lips lifted to a soft smile at the familiar shade of caliginous black, one which she had always adored. Her form was reflected on his dead eyes. She could only wish to be the only one ever centered in the dark pond of unlit sky ever again, it was her one selfish desire. Selfish she very much is when it comes to him. The proximity almost brought nostalgia upon her, whispering back to times where everything was not collapsing. He was not collapsing.

His gelid breath fanned her cheek, she wondered if she was the only one feeling anything at all. Her hand left his and instead, hastened arms wrapped around his stiff torso, holding him tight. He stood unmoving, almost as if his feet were stuck glued to the dull concrete. She rested her face on his shoulder, the sore shoulder that endured abundant weight and torment alone for one too many years.

“It’s okay, Manjiro. You don’t have to take on everything on your own.”

Faint scent of cigarette and familiar warm butter infiltrated her sense, she could not help but nuzzle into his bare neck. His chest heaved slow against hers, perhaps if she focus enough, she might be able to feel his heartbeat. His breath was unsteady and ragged, contrasting the still composure he presented. He was so, so very cold.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice your suffering earlier.”

How long has it been since she was able to embrace him in her warmth? The two fit together similar to a puzzle, her arms felt so right when clasped around his body, if only god heard her prayers for their moment to last forever. Latching onto her dearest even when she knew it could potentially demand a hefty price, she is undeniably such a fool.

“I don’t know the pain you have been through, so I cannot say that I understand it.”

“…”

“But from now I’ll go with you through hell, I’ll share a shoulder with you, I won’t let you bottle it up alone.”

“…”

“Even if you push me away, I’ll crawl back.”

Tense shoulders gradually shifted and drooped, his statue-like demeanor fading by the second. Hesitant inhales and exhales beside her ear only made her hug him tighter, their body heat meshing together. Her eyes shut when he lifted his arms and clung onto the back fabric of her shirt, almost unsurely. He must have tucked the gun away for the time being.

She smiled against his shoulder, joyous that he broke through his thorn sheathed adamantine facade, even if it was for a while bit. His snow shade strands tickled her cheek as he leaned his head against hers, arms squeezing around her torso firm, as if he was afraid to lose her warmth again. They stood basking in one another’s comfort, small flare shared by two to battle against the cold harsh world’s treatments.

“Sorry.” Manjiro mumbled. Even though the apology was monotone, his dejection was echoed.

She tenderly patted his back as her shoulders became dampened, how her heart ached for the boy she loves. Salty tears seeped through her shirt, he was unmoving yet wrecked emotions flooded down her skin. Her throat was dry, droplets were difficult to keep contained, but they cannot be shed. She was the one taking in his agony, she will house all of it for him.

“You’re a bastard, Manjiro.”

“…I know.”

“Live well for me, okay?”

She savored the warm embrace. If she did not know any better, she might mistaken the arms around her to be reminiscent of his former protective loving ones. She loved him, adored him, cherished him, he was her blazing Sun. Nothing changed, ten years ago or this very moment, she still loved him and she could only see him. In front of her was still her shining light, just battered and bruised from fate’s heinous games.

“I love you, Manjiro.”

“I know.”

Even if his blossoming smile was replaced with an unfeeling scowl. Even if his eyes no longer held endearment when reflected her. Even if his welcoming warmth was long gone. Even if he was to walk on the path of blood. Even if he places a gun to her skull. Even if he was crying his anguish out on her shoulders. Even if she was no more. She knew him, and she loved him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Manjiro.”

She softly smiled, feeling his skin against hers for the last time. The cold metal held next to her head signaled it was time to let go. Since when did that get there, she wondered.

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

“Goodbye, Manjiro.”

Bang.

[mayumml]

becoming an adult cheat sheet!!!

learn how to coupon

how to get free therapy

clean bathroom tips

what to do when you can’t pay your bills

learn time management skillz

recipes that take 30 minutes or less

see if you’re paying too much for your cell phone bill

create a resume

how to make a doctor’s appointment

organize your closet

find the right career

a list of stress relievers

how to pick a major

how to take care of yourself when you’re sick

things to bring to a doctor’s appointment

what the hell is a mortgage?

buying a used car

how to pick a health insurance plan

read the news

leave your childhood traumas behind

how to quit smoking

a list of hotlines in a crisis

what to expect from your first gynecologist appointment

what to do if you get pulled over by a cop

things to keep in your car in case of an emergency

[mayumml]

Infatuation

A/N: obsessive!reader, cafe au(?), not proofread

It’s that man again. 

Today is the eleventh time he has been here. Not sure why or when she decided to count the amount of times he walks through that door but it never ceases to amaze her how he arrive always so precisely at exactly one at noon. 

What was it about this man in particular that made her so infatuated the moment she saw him? Well, she is not too sure herself. 

Was it his slouched and sickly thin figure? Or was it his foreign white attire and unkempt appearance? Perhaps the alluring shade of amethyst resting on his calculative eyes spoke to her? 

The man does not necessarily stick out in the spacious café, neither does he look like common folks. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed he is a former college student who dropped out due to poverty. That would explain his disheveled and slim form, as if he did not have a bite to eat in the last four days. 

However, if the man was a poor ex-student, it would be most unreasonable for him to come to a café and order overpriced tea every week. 

Once again, the slender man takes a seat in the far corner with his usual order, black tea. She quickly goes behind the counter and begin brewing. How kind he was when he complimented the tea she brewed on his third visit, she just couldn’t help but continue brewing for him. 

Three spoons of tea, just like last time. Customers adjust their own sugar amount with the given cubes, but she knew the man would drink his tea with two sugars.

Sneakily taking a peak at the man out of the corner of her eyes, she hums to herself happily. He looks nice today as well. 

She always look forward to his visit, feeling empty whenever he leaves. The woman spends her days pondering when he is coming to the café, the other times she spend recalling the slightest interactions between them. Seldom times, she would think about the interactions he had with other employees and evaluate wether or not he seems to have special interests in them. 

Hastily gripping the warm tea pot, along with a set of cup and plate, she walks over to the man - who may have been on her mind too many times to be considered normal. 

Sensing the waitress’s presence, the Russian glances up to meet his hidden admirer. He smiles lightly, thanking her as she sets his order down. To see how she brewed with such ardor, it would be rude to not acknowledge it. 

The woman bashfully avoids his gaze and leaves, even when she stared at his eyes more times than recallable. Amusing, she truly was. 

Infatuation with a customer, she certainly is easily swooned. Dostoevsky was more aware of her feelings than she is herself, her mind and emotions laid out so clearly to him. 

Her secret looks his direction was never unnoticed, he knew she thought of him, he knew she memorized his schedule, he knew she makes an effort to always be the one who makes him tea ever since he complimented her. 

Her obsession, her infatuation with him, such human emotions, what would be most the proper response? 

Any normal person would be disturbed, creeped out? But, Dostoevsky certainly wasn’t an ordinary person.

He could care less, to put it simply. Affection is foreign to him, and he need not of it. Perhaps once he has completed his holy grail, then, he would recall her obsessive yet passionate affection for him. 

[mayumml]

Words Of Fate

Istg there are NO scara soulmate fics wtf 😭 he deserves love too

He deemed it to be worthless. 

Such a thing like soulmates, is unnecessary and bothersome. Another burden for him to carry. 

The Raiden Shogun did not know the reason why he has the words of fate on his skin. The black ink imprinted on his wrist, he hated it. It irks him to think about how he has a soulmate. Just another obstacle in his life. 

“Can you hold my hand?” 

Even the choice of words make him scoff. The audacity of this mere mortal. What a fool. 

He was not excited to meet his so called soulmate. Instead he dreaded it and wish they never will. 

But then, why did he felt electric? 

After receiving the Raiden Shogun’s gnosis, Scaramouche went far away from the delusion factory’s territory. 

With the gnosis, he knows what he can do. And he is not going to hesitate. 

The man wandered to a deserted forest with a loud yet bizarrely beautiful waterfall. Only to bump into a certain person. 

He is taken aback at how there is another person here, but is also pissed at that fact. 

He took in the girl’s appearance. She looked way too normal, there was nothing out of the ordinary. And her glossy eyes spoke for themselves. 

The girl stared at him quietly, hiccuping here and there. And then, without a single word, she glance back to the clear water surface. 

He also didn’t feel like saying anything. Instead, he clicked his tongue and decided to go to a different area. 

But she stopped him. 

“Can you hold my hand?”

The balladeer raised a brow at the question, the same question imprinted on his pale skin.

He furrowed his brows at the realization. 

She’s his soulmate? This weak mortal girl?

She seems so fragile and light, as if a small touch can instantly kill her. 

He glanced at her waiting hand. She continued to sob quietly, what made her cry anyways?

Something urged inside the wanderer. Without a beating heart, what could it possibly be?

No, he isn’t soft for this girl. 

He is irritated at the fact that he found his soulmate, but he also... isn’t mad about it. 

Scaramouche sighed. 

Before he knew it, his hand is already intertwined with hers. 

Her overly soft and warm hand, such a big contrast to his dry and cold ones. It was nice. 

The two stood there, both staring down at the stream left by the waterfall. 

Both were silent, but they didn’t mind. Just the other’s company is enough. 

Maybe, he did grow soft for her. His so called soulmate that he despised so much. 

And then he spoke them. 

The magic words on her skin. 

 “Just for a little bit.”