#it feels like they repeated typhoon

[little-lanterns]

[wilwheaton]

fuck you pat robertson

Pat Robertson walks past thousands of souls, smugly and full of pride, and cuts to the front of the line at the velvet rope in outside the entrance to his version of Heaven.

The bouncer looks up from their clipboard, observing Robertson with thousands of eyes in a swirling cascade of light.

"Pat Robertson," they say. "We've been expecting you."

Pat Robertson silently congratulates himself. He swells with joy. All those people who died from AIDS, natural disasters, even 9/11 ... they all deserved it. They were sinners!

The bouncer speaks into their headset. "He's here." They listen. "Yep. At the front of the line."

The bouncer turns most of its gaze back to Pat Robertson. "Just wait here for one moment, please."

Pat Robertson steps to one side and waits.

After one thousand years, he begins to wonder if there was a miscommunication.

"Excuse me," he says to the bouncer, "I am Pat --"

"Robertson. Yes. We know. We're just getting everything in order for you. It will just be one more moment."

Tens of thousands of victims of gun violence walk past him and enter Heaven. The population of an entire village, lost in a typhoon that was intensified by climate change, is welcomed. And still he waits.

They file past him, all the people he looked down on. All the people he hurt, directly and indirectly, don't even notice him as they pass. It's like he isn't even there.

Another thousand years pass. Pat Robertson realizes he hasn't had a thing to eat since he died and he is so very hungry.

"Hey!" He shouts at the bouncer. "What's the problem? Don't you know who I am?"

The bouncer rolls half a million eyes at once. "We know exactly who you are."

"Well, alright, then!" Pat Robertson spits out, exasperated, "if you aren't going to help me, get someone here who will!"

The bouncer speaks into its headset again. "We're ready."

A gibbering mass of what is mostly human flesh -- or was, once -- slithers / rolls / flops into Pat Robertson's view. It is covered with mouths that bleed and weep and click their teeth together. Enormous open sores swirl and burst and close and reopen and drip pus and viscera across blistering skin. The faint memory of a smell surrounds it, something like very old cigar smoke and very expensive liquor.

Pat Robertson tries to scream. Arm-like stalks extend from the quivering shape. One resembles a hand at the end of an arm, dripping viscera.

In a flash, it grabs Pat Robertson's hand and shakes it. Something hot and acidic splashes up on his arm, blinds him in one eye. He feels weak. Afraid. Alone. Confused.

Hundreds of mouths try to speak. Dozens of them vomit acrid bile that splashes across his chest. Dozens more silently spit out the lies they've been cursed to repeat for eternity to an audience who will never hear them again.

One mouth speaks clearly. So clearly, it's inside Pat Robertson's head and everywhere else all at once. "I'm Rush Limbaugh," it says. "I'm your new roommate. Come with me."

And that's when Pat Robertson knows. That's when it all hits him, all at once. He's getting everything he deserves.

The line to get into Heaven does not see or hear or notice him, or the Limbeast. They can't hurt anyone, anymore.

The cancerous mass of hate wraps its arm around his shoulder and just like that Pat Robertson finds himself in a vast parody of a cathedral. It's built of bones and flesh and lies. The walls writhe, and he sees that they are not bricks and lathe but bodies wrapped in confederate flags and wearing red hats.

The pews are filled to capacity with the souls of people who followed him in life, hated who he told them to hate. Only their hate is now focused on him, hot and unforgiving. Relentless.

Pat Robertson looks for his companion, but it has vanished. It has left him alone to suffer.

A sermon rises in his chest and pushes against his throat. Pat Robertson is compelled to speak, and as he does each word tears through him like broken glass. He spews his hate and his lies, just as he did in life. Only in this place, he doesn't feel the glee and the satisfaction he always did. No, he feels the pain and the suffering and the agony of every human being who he deliberately hurt. He. Feels. All. Of. It. He tries to stop speaking. Of course, he can not. He can not ever stop.

And Pat Robertson's eternity begins.

[yandere-wishes]

The Spider’s Web

Summary: You are a hero, you feel it within your bones. Calamity may strike and villains may rise. But you are still a hero, it's time to start acting like one. 

Continuations of Imposter Syndrome and Perfect Girl. But can be read as a stand-alone

 Warnings: Yandere themes,  violence, angst, just the worst Spanish you've ever heard.  SFW but Miles and the reader are 18+

Author's note: Last part of the Prowler Miles x Hero reader trilogy. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. 

There's a weight in your hand, familiar and awkward, worn yellow plastic stuck to rusted metal. You count the rotations it takes for one bolt to tighten, twist, twist, and repeat. You cradle the metallic gadget with such fragile care, lips tracing silent prayers across the cold alloy. This shall be your salvation once it's complete. Another key to unbinding these appalling shackles.

It's been months since the Prowler took you away. Locked you within his new hideout and threw away the key. He claims he loves you as he leaves sugar-tainted kisses upon your neck. Whispers that he's the only one who can keep you safe as he nibbles the shell of your ear. His claws have become a constant force upon your hips, his presence a burden, invariant and throttling. He's stripped you of your mantle as a hero, reduced you to a limbless, formless creature that merely exists within the dark of his room. Una muñeca, he calls you as he extinguishes the air from your lungs with a life-sucking kiss. 

But you're not a doll, nor a puppet, nor a toy. You're supposed to be a paladin, a saviour, the one who was going to alleviate this city of evil once and for all. But you're not a superhero, not now, not anymore. The thought is enough to make you sick. 

Your own reflection causes you the most pain. The glass paints a stranger with hollow eyes and a decaying soul. Defeated and broken. You've taken to smashing mirrors as a way to exercise your demons. Miles has stated his vexation over this and warned you not to invoke his anger again. It's hard to explain that his anger makes you feel human. The way his eyes narrow and his lips merge into displeasure is the only thing keeping you alive right now. You hate him, but he's practically forgotten that.

Your ears perk up as footsteps tread outside the room. You quickly rush to hide your new gauntlet under the bed, rolling to the deepest corners where the dust bunnies and boogeyman roam. You perch yourself on the bed, stretch to grab a framed family photo from one of the shelves, and focus your eyes. Keep busy, it's the best way to avert his suspicions. 

There's a light creek before Miles steps in. Footsteps heavy as if the ground's going to give way under him. He looks exhausted, practically dead. You wonder what he's been up to all day. You turn your head to face your nemesis, your jailer, your lover.

"Mi Vida" he mutters as he falls back on the bed, he turns wrapping his arms around your waist. "That slimy alien insisted I do some physical training today. It's exhausting. Says I need to be in shape for the big operation". You stiffen, ever since the sinister six had you out of their way, they'd been content with ruling the city with an iron fist. Nothing major, nothing extreme. But something is going down, something bad. Desperation throbs within your heart, you need to escape. 

Miles pulls you down until you're lying next to him. Gently prys the photo from your hands and looks it over. There's an endless moment that reverberates between you two. "I miss him sometimes'' he confesses, his eyes locked on his father's face. He looks like a child hopeless and lost. Desperate in all the ways you've never been. He pulls you closer and buries his head in the crock of your neck. It almost feels like love. If love was a thousand leeches that stick to every crevice of your body. Slowly infiltrating the heart. Slowly sucking away your life. 

Miles is a storm, a typhoon, a calamity. All hurling winds and bellowing thunder. A hurricane that shakes the world to its core. You've gotten so used to thinking of him as anything but human that you forgot he's just a boy. A boy with a heartbeat and a thousand painful memories all locked behind golden eyes. 

You remember when he used to tell you stories. Back when the safest place for a hero and a villain was the midnight sanctuary of a rooftop.

Stories of his childhood back when his father was still alive. Back when he was seven or maybe eight naive enough to believe his father's empty preaches about justice and righteousness. Mind too preoccupied with the new Rover red hot wheel his father had brought home after his shift. He'd been happy once, a long, long time ago.

Back then you used to think about him, in the spare moments between explosions and your blood pounding through your ears. You used to think about what kind of boy Miles would have been if his father had still been around. How sweet his smile could have been, how precious his soul would have been. Even after he kidnapped you and put you through horrors untold, you still think about the boy he could have been. Dare to imagine who he could have been. You wonder if his touch could have been endearing, could have made you feel safe. Half addicting and half comforting. It's laughable really, you never thought it possible to miss someone you've never met. Yet it unlocks a special kind of sadness within your heart. Maybe in some other lifetime, the two of you could have been real lovers. 

"We're planning to expand outside of New York, take over everything else," Miles says as his eyes grow heavier. He's tired, you think, that's good, that very very good. "There's no one left to get in our way." There's a dreadful banging in the back of your head. A screaming voice begging you to escape, to run away, to do SOMETHING, anything. There's a fatigue that has encompassed Miles, engulfed him whole. He's dead to the world in minutes. Whilst you are tortured by your consciousness. Your gadgets aren't ready. They're made from scrap bits you found around the hideout. Half assembled and never tested. Yet Miles is asleep, exhausted and unconscious. It's the perfect chance to run to return to your old life. 

Take a leap of faith, what's the worst that can happen...

You spare one last glance at Miles. Close your eyes and take in a shaky breath. A leap of faith you repeat within your head. You roll out of the bed and rummage under it to find your hidden gems. They're not perfect, not finished, but hopefully, they'll work. Your gauntlets are the most important part, they should theoretically be strong enough to break the seals on the window. From there you can use what little web filler alternative you were able to make to swing away from this dreadful place. Run and hide, New York is huge he shouldn't be able to find you. 

You rush for the window, pry the bolts loose, pull and pull until your muscles begin to collapse. The window creaks open and it sounds like freedom and hope all entwined with a fleece of dread. You step out onto the ledge. A hunting summer breeze ghosts across your face, as sirens scream in the background. A million lights bathe the city in a welcoming glow. You take a breath, turn around and fall. Diving into a concrete ocean, a place where you can finally feel alive. 

The rebirth of a hero has begun...

What is a hero in a land of villains? A shining star or a decaying light. To them, you are a monster, ripped from your mother's womb with a craving for blood and justice. To Miles, you used to be a beast, chained and tamed. He forgot that you were a numen. That you were something he had to fear. 

There's a divinity hidden inside each hero. Bones made of golden marrow that births sacred cells. A hero's blood is holy Ichor running through their veins. Ripping them apart from the inside and reassembling them as modern martyrs who shall die amongst the neon lights. 

How can you expect anything less from yourself? How can you be anything other than hallowed? You refuse to be anything other than sacred, trimmed in gold, and born of desert diamonds. 

Your eyes are focused on the last warehouse, Vulture, and Dr.Octopus are overviewing the newest cargo shipment. They're the last of the sinister six to die. The final lines to add to your tally. Then you can focus on the prowler.

After you escaped it took many days to find a safe place to hideout. You spend every second rummaging through the streets in search of new parts to use. You need a functional suit, one that could at the very least get you in and out of the Sinister Six's stock houses without detection. Then you could focus on stealing upgrades. You needed the strength, the extra power. There's a festering hunger pounding in your cranium. Desperate to get out. It screams the ballads of a vengeful melody. The need for retribution has become a cruel addiction, one that has driven you further than you ever dreamed possible. 

You stare out at the warehouse from your perch upon a skyscraper. 

 Count the seconds before the bomb detonates. On the count of three, a shiver goes up your spine. An acquainted terror, he's found, you feel his digital case price you from inside the shadows. Phantom pains resurface as old bruises begin to bloom. You earned your freedom to the symphony of breaking bones and tearing flesh. To the desperate tugs of your heartstrings as if it were a harp. There is no way you'll permit him to take it from you again. 

"Long time no see mami" His voice is gruff, hidden behind the layers of his mask. A small part of you used to miss this. Missed the Prowler you had fought almost daily. Missed the punching and kicking and the desperate need to kill or kiss one another. "Hello Miles" you spit his name like poison behind your teeth. Somewhere in the distance the bomb detonates, vermillion and smoke fill the air and you feel your heart skip in jovial delight. 

You twirl across the edge of the building, hands stuck out on either side. You look like a bird, like a ballerina. Like a friendly neighborhood Spidergirl. "What, you want us to beat each other up? For old time's sake."

Mile's mask slips away and he looks at you with eyes too dead for his young age. "You left me!" he screams, with a voice sheathed in pain, in anger, in broken dreams that had shattered far too quickly. 

You wonder if the mask has cut off the oxygen going into his brain. "Of course, I left you!" You scream, "You turned me into a metaphysical, gutless monster, you stripped me of every heroic deed I had embedded into your heart. You robbed me of my faith, my morals, my soul. Did you ever think I could love you after all that..." 

"You're talking crazy little bug, I was protecting you"

"From what! From the villains, I could have destroyed!"

There's rage leaking out of every aperture of his body. Anger within his lungs, pounding and prudent destructive at best. He rushes towards you, with every intent to kill to maim. He tackles you over the edge. You wonder if he has a death wish. You wonder if he's in love. 

You're falling into a sea of dying stars. Miles's arms wrap tightly against your waist. The ground seems infinitely far and yet ever so close. 

You wonder if Miles fears death or if he welcomes it. It wouldn't matter either way. For the first time in longer than you care to remember you feel so alive, dead tissue gives way to the howling wind in your ears. There's no end in sight. If you die, at least you'll die in each other's arms. Raindrops race past you splattering across the pavement, in a final moment of yearning, you sling your web against a low rise hoping it'll soften the fall. 

You wake up to the wet street. Miles's body sprawled out next to you. Inching closer you feel his pulse throb under your fingertips, a caged beast vying for its freedom. Desperate, desperate, desperate, exactly how he makes you feel. His eyes peel open, stardust and nectar falling from them. He's beautiful you think, he's deadly you recall. "and here I thought we had something special mami" he mumbles as his eyes begin to close. He'll live, you're sure of it. You just have to muster enough energy to drag him back to your lair. Tie him up for good measure, give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe now with the Sinister Six gone and the city finally at peace. Maybe now with every bad influence scrubbed clean from his life. Miles can finally become a real boy. Maybe you two can finally become real lovers. 

There's a light that dances in front of your eyes. Rogue fire and magic all wrapped in one. A man steps out of it or maybe a seraphim. It's really hard to tell with the throbbing at the back of your head. He introduces himself. He looks just like you, spiders etched into his skin and pain pooling inside his eyes. You wonder if he's been through the same horrors as you.

But Miguel is older, a crooked thing. All fangs and blood and claws. You peel yourself from the ground and wobble over to him. Collapsing in his arms. Tears fall from your eyes matching the tears of the heavens.

"It's over little one, the pain is finally over" You know he's lying. Yet it soothes you. You know your new life as the protector of New York has just begun. 

You are Spidergirl now and your life has just turned into a Sisyphean labor

Sorry it's not as good as the other two, I was having a hard week lol

taglist: @nkmblackhyuuga @itsnotino @huicitawrites @bennybenten @scarleste @the-rouge-robin @murderofravens

[homunculus-argument]

One thing I always find fun in fiction is how different POV characters' descriptions of other characters differ from each other - nobody sees other people the exact same way.

In one unfinished fantasy book I had, having the ability to wield magic is genetic, and though most people of Wielder Blood are only passive carriers of the trait (it only manifests actively in women, male wielders are essentially unheard of), it has another feature that is always active: people with wielder blood can sense each other.

While it varies from person to person - some wielders emit a stronger signal than others, and some are more sensitive to it - the effect itself is the same: adrenaline. Wielders are tense, irate, passionate or anxious around each other. Since they come in families, and families form alliances, and they physically cannot be normal around or about each other, their familial and romantic relationships are generally intense, violently shifting and torrid. They either love of hate each other, and that coin can flip unpredictably.

There's one character who wasn't born into a Wielder House, the mutation sometimes happens spontaneously among common people. She never met other wielders before adulthood, and had no idea of what the Sense is. She herself senses other wielders very weakly, being hardly even aware of them, and her own "scent" is absolutely overpowering. The only way she notices other people of wielder blood is that they drop into full fight/flight/freeze/fawn before she even walks into the room.

She's first introduced through the eyes of a man from a wielder family - he doesn't just Sense her as soon as she walks in, but before it. Sitting in a room, he suddenly feels that there's Something Terrifying on the other side of that door, before he even hears the approaching footsteps. And as soon as she opens the door, he practically collapses in an overwhelming wave of awe and fear vaguely mixed with lust at the sight of her. Funnily enough he was never taught about the Sense either, so he has no idea why this woman has such an effect on him. Mainly, he's terrified of her, infinitely relieved and grateful of her (repeated, and very confused) reassurances that she has no intention to harm him.

For the first few chapters she's in, she's described through the eyes of other wielders, as an overpowering and otherworldly, awesome and terrifying radiant goddess, who is almost devastatingly indifferent about the effect she has on them. If sensing another wielder usually feels like trying to ignore a lit candle in an otherwise dark room, she is like the sun.

Then we meet her husband, who has zero wielder blood. He doesn't understand what the fuss is about. Through his eyes, she's just a completely regular and ordinary woman - an excellent woman, which is why he married her, but still only mortal. Ten years older than him, slightly grey at the temples and plump in the right places, and an even, stable and sensible personality. There is no buckwild torrid storms of lust and hate, worship and terror between them. She married him because he's reliable and sensible, and he married her because she's reliable and sensible.

Once they are introduced to the society of Wielder Houses, the women put on a brave face to endure her presence, while the men are gracefully allowed to withdraw to their own Men's Hall, to protect their delicate constitutions from being torturously overwhelmed. Her husband follows them for the lack of better ideas of what to do, and one of his new peers asks him how he can endure her constant presence without going insane. How was he so brave that he was willing to marry a rending typhoon.

None of them believe him when he frankly tells them that he married her because she's the only one who doesn't think his cooking is bad.

[utahimeow]

no wait. vash guiding an unexperienced reader on how to eat him out...

cw — cunnilingus, vash has a pussy

it’s him petting your hair softly as you kneel between his thick, muscled thighs, smiling softly with encouragement which undoubtedly helps ease the fluttering of your stomach.

“do i just…”

he watches, eyes half-lidded, as you lean in, feels your warm breath ghost over his needy heat. then your tongue licks against him, and his whole body shivers. his head falls back, a light breath curling into the air from his lips—what you can only assume is a good sign.

“yeah, just…” he repeats, equally as detailed as you, but he did tell you with something like this it’s hard to describe what to do, which is precisely why he had so generously eaten you out just before this. so now, you’re mostly mimicking his movements, or what you can remember through your haze of pleasure.

you flatten your tongue out, dragging it through his folds and over his clit. you wrap your lips around it, sucking and slurping, all while peering up at him, watching what makes him whine and squirm, what makes him tighten his flesh hand in your hair, what makes him sigh out a—

“yes, like that, more of that.”

the soft coo of his praise makes your head spin, and so does his sweet taste, makes you desperate to hear more, to make him proud. you can’t help your own soft noises as you bury your face in his cunt, dripping almost as much as he is, throbbing between your own legs.

“you’re so good, so perfect.” he’s whining, whimpering even, so ironic considering his reputation for being some typhoon, some symbol of danger when in fact he’s anything but.

“just-just keep doing that, angel, i’m so close-shit.”

he’s bucking his hips against your face, but you do exactly as he says—you flick your tongue over his clit fast, watching him fall apart above you, wanting nothing more than for him to reach his edge, and soon he does.

he comes with a whimpered cry, a sound of utmost beauty and utter bliss, spilling his honeyed arousal over your tongue.

in the blink of an eye, he’s got you pulled into his lap, his lips on yours as he kisses you slowly and sucks on your tongue, indulging in his own taste on your lips.

“you did so good for me, you know that?” he whispers, his warm affection pouring into you.

“can we do that again?” you ask, innocently, and he laughs, mostly in surprise.

he just can’t find it in him to say no.

[yurinaa-world]

So I've had this idea for a while and I can't get it out of my head!!

Reader who's quiet/silent but their love language is touch, and acts of service.

Reader has a crush on (Vash/Wolfwood) for a while, and they show their love for him via physical touch and acts of service, but he thinks it's nothing special. One night, when (Vash/Wolfwood) is half asleep, they felt someone gently grab his hand and kissed it. Then, he heard a whisper. "I love you, even if you don't like me that way. I'll still love- No, adore. I'll still adore you 'till my last breath."

The voice, it was Reader. They confessed to him in his sleep. Reader let's go of his hand walks out of the room, closing the door. (Vash/Wolfwood) immediately sits up and try to process the confession with a red blushing face.

How would (Vash/Wolfwood) react/think to the confession? And how will their relationship blossom??

Characters: Vash x Gender-neutral reader

Synopsis: reader confesses while Vash is half asleep; how does he react to the confession and how does your relationship go?

Warnings: fluff

Vash "The Humanoid Typhoon"

How does he react to the confession?

the way you kissed his hand and told him that you loved and adored him while he was half asleep, then left.

Vash jumped up and sat on the bed. He felt his whole face burning up as if he had a fever.

He just sits there in silence, repeating those words over and over; he couldn’t even go back to sleep after being so exhausted.

Whenever you're talking to Vash, he can’t look you in the eyes (he’ll always be the one who is really flustered).

How does your relationship go forward?

Vash feels the same as you do; he doesn’t want to wait to tell you because what if something happens if he waits?

Soon even you will notice his odd behavior and the remarks from some people.

When you try to touch a vase, like with a hug or a meaningful gift, you see and feel him go red and hot.

When he gets the courage to tell you that he's in love with you and says he'd be happy to move forward in your relationship,

Later, when you're both very comfortable around each other, he’ll tell you about how he was awake when you made your cute little confession!

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[shanieveh]

hanie's masterlist !

— i write mostly various because i can never be loyal to one man for too long

— they all/almost include my faves except for part twos: kaveh, scaramouche, kaeya, alhaitham

— uhm me subcategory them or saying the men involved in these fics... is for another day im tired

— all of them are sfw please i repeat DONT request nsfw works i see you on asks even if anonymous. yes there's profanity or suggestive innuendos in my first smau but PLEASE i do not write those stuff and im VERY MUCH uncomfortable with people requesting them thankssss <3

works (genshin impact)—

rosemary dreams and sweet lullabies

— the comfort of sleep when he is beside you, the moment when you cared more about the reality of the moment rather than the dreams that come along with it

how you love the genshin men

— how you love them depending on their personality and if they liked you back (some didnt angst ensues but there is fluff i promise)

the day... the music died

— you died, their reaction (some gore? idk)

i like you so much, you'll know it pt. 1

—the things they do for love

im in love with you, and know you know pt. 2

— the things they do for love also just different characters i dont really care about.... but they are kinda cool so its OKAY

call me, "lover boy"

— courting you and what made you like them back

being the genshin men's first priority

— they forget everything and anything when you're in the picture. you are all that matters (did i write this during a mental breakdown when i realize how unimportant i am to everyone? yes)

dangerously yours

— wdym this is based on anakin skywalker?! it is. enemies to lovers, you're the hero and he is the villain

salut d'amour

— based on the love of elgar (the creator of salut d'amour) to his wife though not the same plot just that love and affection you feel during the piece

genshin men crushing on you

— self-explanatory. grown adult men pining over you, should be just kaveh but i got carried away and added them all because why not?

10 things i hate about you

— red flags of genshin men based on the poem from the same name (pls watch it) and how ur blind from all the signs (or u just pretend)

i was enchanted to meet you

— first meetings with them cute and wholesome i guess

haunted by the ghost of you

— all alone they still can't help but feel another presence, as memories barely buried resurfaced his mind, of a quieter time, of a simpler life.

karma is my boyfriend

— more crack than fluff fic about how the genshin men will obliterate those that dare hurt you like who would???

when im no longer young and beautiful

— growing old with them (personal fave)

crying in the genshin men' arms

— you cry, they comfort, fluff ensues

"who did this to you?"

— you're hurt and for some reason enemy!genshin men are concerned and doing everything to make you feel better

"forget me not" (neuvillette)

—fontaine is experiencing heavy typhoons and severe floods, and you might just be the reason why

please don't take my sunshine away...

—can't sleep? maybe a lullaby can help :)

to all the boys i've loved before

— you made a letter to your crush, he likes you back, chaos ensues in how he responsed

when you know, you know

— soulmates are a fantasy made by hopeless romantics, but as soon as he saw you he started to doubt that. he was in love.

"what letters?"

— he ghosted your letters is a sign he never loved you, and as you move on your life he comes back, only to tell you a shocking revelation.

"hey are you still there?" "good."

— only needed when everything goes wrong, when he's no longer in her arms. you felt used. but do you stop? never, he was worth it. (inspo by NIKI's song: backburner)

works (honkai star rail) —

the best thing that's ever been mine

— capturing the mind, the heart, the body and the soul of honkai star rail men

when you know, you know

— soulmates are a fantasy made by hopeless romantics, but as soon as he saw you he started to doubt that. he was in love.

[mayfly-stampede]

are we going to see Vashmeryl in Stampede?

warnings: episodes 4-7 spoilers, Trigun maximum manga spoilers

Vash is a sensitive and a bit clumsy guy with a big will of protecting everyone.

Meryl is a intrepid reporter who can’t stand by when she witnesses injustices.

Ans specifically during this scene when Roberto says “If he is like you…he won’t live long”

we realize they are actually alike.

In Stampede, Vash’s caregiver nature is more obvious since the beginning and Meryl’s personality is still strong but a bit impulsive specially when she sees injustice or someone in danger.

We see this at the very first episode when she helps Vash even though she doesn’t know him.

At the end of episode 2 we see her protecting Rosa, she worries about Tonis in ep 3 and take cares of Zasie at ep 4 (without knowing Zasie is no human)

She doesn’t expect Vash, Wolfwood or Roberto (THREE ARMED GUYS) to look after someone it if she is near.

This is interesting cause Meryl doesn’t have any gun (…yet?) like in the manga but she’s not afraid to protect someone.

Finally, it’s clear she worries about Vash. Maybe because she empathizes with the guilt he feels after Jeneora Rock incident, as we saw in ep 8, but she’s incredibly relieved when Vash finally eats something after three days.

She looked for the humanoid typhoon cause she wanted to interview him as a human disaster but when she knew he could be innocent she wanted to help him.

Now, after calling him coward, his answers makes her wonder who is Vash really and still repeats herself the same question…

Maybe it’s just reporter curiosity but something interesting is, even knowing since episode 1 that Vash is actually a very skilled gunman, she wants to help him to not get killed.

She runs when she hears guns looking for Vash but he is the legendary demon gunman…it’s not like she can do much for him…

And after they suspect he’s not human, Meryl decides to stay with Vash and looks for him desperately when they can’t find him at the sand-steamer.

She cares, a lot, for Vash and wants to protect him

cause after all they say to him…how can he still smile like that?

And it's funny that the person who worries the most for Vash is the lest capable to actually protect him.

Now...is Vash in Stampede someone who has been in love? is he shy about it? does he gets nervous? Or would he just embrace his feelings?

I wonder if this boy will be capable of see Meryl…and actually see her with other eyes…

It is clear we have to wait and see if this is going to happen…

But actually I can imagine him making a promise to Meryl one day like “I’ll return so you can do me another interview” thing, similar to the promise in the manga

What do you think?

[mmmmalo]

I'd gathered way back that Typheus's lair was surrounded by pipes because they're a Dad symbol, making John on some level fight Dad again. But I learned a moment ago that the disease 'typhus' derives its name from a Greek word for smoke, so it appears the same logic might apply to the denizen itself... 'typhus' is also a relative of 'typhoon', which others have linked to John's wind powers, but that's not really my focus here.

Cetus then represents Mom, based both on the use of whale as a sexist epithet (Blubber, huge bitch) and the mass slaughter of the fish in the sea which reflects/asserts Mom's infertility. Rose also alludes to massacres at the hands of 'whales' in the excerpt of CotL we see: the fat wizard Smarny (whose name suggests a kind of pancake) looks guiltily upon the dessert-textured corpse pile, and the final line is a Moby Dick reference via Jaws. These would seem to be the abstracted continuations of Rose spelling out 'shrew' on the refrigerator

Hephaestus then, must represent Bro...? His status as blacksmith connects to the Striders' fixation on swords obviously, but it would become a contradiction that Hephaestus repairs what Bro breaks? There's also some sort of racial angle I think, there's tidbits here and there that associate Hephaestus's charred black skin with his "lameness"... Dave says Mr. T's lameness is what makes him ironically cool -- which via Hephaestus becomes an implicit indictment of Bro? Dave says he's training to be a "lame gothy supervillain" when goth-as-black has been racialized by Oglagoth ("black ogle") -- which contains a note of bitterness about his emulation of Bro and the lame shades that darken his leer? There are numerous references to sunglasses (or other dark screens) as "lame" throughout the story that feel loaded now... and sexually loaded at that, since the racialized appearance of blindness (shades) is itself an unbreakable katana, and apparent lack (a disability or lameness) that signals comprehensive sight (total potency, ninja sword as BBC)... or something like that. The Mr. T rant seems to encompass some of the ambivalence around regard for blackness, and Bro's been chained to that line of thought like a Chuck Norris puppet

This all implicates Grandpa as Echidna, but I'm unsure how to connect the two. The Dr. Moreau epithet would mark him as a mother of monsters? Some accounts locate Echidna's cave Arima on a volcanic island? The matter of calling Grandpa "she-viper" (feminine phallus?) might align with how depictions of Grandpa as a sexual threat have a certain homophobic tint... I don't know. Unlike Hephaestus, I don't have a convenient word to latch onto to search for repeated motifs, though Joey's hatred of serpents would seem to retroactively encourage the she-viper angle

Hm... the lack of insult in Typheus-as-smoke feels off too, in the wake of the other three. Maybe it will all click later

[thebellearchives]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄

~ Nicholas D. Wolfwood ; Trigun Stampede

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : late night in a bar, Wolfwood watches you as you seem to have found love with somebody else

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, angst, consumption of alcohol, unrequited love

‧₊˚ a / n : i feel like this scenario has been written quite a lot of times, but has it been written with Somebody Else by The 1975 on repeat?! i don’t think so!

Jealousy tinged eyes watched you closely. Unaware of the gaze that would follow you everywhere since you found this group, you continued to get lost in your blond companion’s smile. Wolfwood drank from his whiskey once more, trying his best not to call for your name and pull you away from Vash. Cold liquor tingled his lips, burning in his throat and chest just like envy did. He was aware that no matter where he tried to take your body your mind would not leave the humanoid typhoon behind.

Vash turned to you, whatever he said was lost in between the laughs and the music that filled the bar, so it never really reached Wolfwood’s ears, but your eyes lit up. Your smile widened, pure adoration glinted in your face. He tried to tear his gaze away, but there was a part of his mind that forced him to watch. Maybe it was masochistic, but it was the only way he’d get it through his head: you were no longer his.

And you probably never were, it had all been in his head. He’d tease you and you’d laugh it off, a sweet and shy blush sitting on top of your cheeks, but maybe it hadn’t been because of him, maybe it had been the heat of the desert. Whenever he caught your eyes wandering towards him, those heart stopping smiles you’d give him, and now you were giving them to someone else. Your melodic laugh tied a knot in his throat, Vash laughed with you and with a clink of your drinks both of you leaned closer to one another as naturally as if it was by gravity.

It was happening right in front of Wolfwood’s eyes, and yet he couldn’t shake the thought that nagged at the back of his head. He was so sure that he could’ve had something with you, maybe if he had been less playful and more direct, maybe if he had kissed you that night behind the car, if he had brushed those unruly hair strands off your face tenderly, if he had made sure to glance towards your lips at the right time…

Your fingers fixed Vash’s orange glasses, sliding them back to the bridge of his nose where they should’ve stayed since the very beginning. The gunslinger widened his eyes in innocent surprise and a soft cherry pink colour covered his face. Some words stuttered their way out of his mouth, you giggled.

“You’re so cute” Wolfwood read your lips and immediately regretted it, finally running out of strength to maintain his eyes on you and looking away, down towards his almost empty glass.

So he drank the remaining liquid, putting it back into the wooden counter a little bit harder than he intended to. Vash was his friend. He was kind an caring, he was genuinely a good guy, and if you were to end up with someone Wolfwood was sure you wouldn’t find another guy who’d treat you better. And you deserved that, someone to love you back. He couldn’t love back someone who didn’t love him in the first place.

The undertaker squinted, noticing the edges of this glass becoming blurry. He felt pathetic, wailing over something so stupid as a broken heart. He thought drowning his feelings in alcohol until he stopped feeling was a good idea, so he ordered more from the busy bartender.

“Another whiskey”

“Two, actually” Meryl suddenly appeared next to him “thanks!”

“Since when do you drink whiskey?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Since today” she smirked “I want to offer some company to a friend. Just between you and I, he genuinely looks like shit right now”

Wolfwood snorted.

“Then he must want to be alone”

“Come on!” the blissful chirp of your voice called for his attention.

You grabbed Vash by his hands and guided him towards the dance floor, his bewitched blue eyes following you in amusement. Yes, Vash was the perfect guy for you, and still Wolfwood’s heart ached watching you leave with somebody else.

[minnie-minmin]

Racing Thoughts

(König x Reader)

I just did it in second person pov so anyone could read it. If you’re coming from tiktok, I’m sorry for the switching povs in part three, I was tired and nauseous and stupid :P

It was during the later hours of night that you had woken up from a rather rough dream, your mind being plagued with ideas you hated, ideas that festered in your brain constantly, always there. You’ve long wished for these thoughts to leave, these insecurities to go away, but they never did.

During this particular night, you were woken up with quite a start, the dream having taken on a more unexpected twist at the end. Luckily for you, your sudden movement didn’t seem to wake your partner: König.

You were sat up in bed, the sheets pooling in your lap, slipping off of your body, exposing your bare skin to the chilled air. However, you barely seemed to notice the cold, your attention focused on what laid underneath the skin.

Your hands reached down, pushed back the blanket, and gripped your thighs, squeezing at the supple flesh. Tears brimmed in your eyes at what you considered to be an excess amount. You hated your thighs, you hated the way they only seemed to grow bigger every day. Even König, who was naturally taller and bigger, couldn’t make your thighs feel small in comparison to his touch.

You felt your tears fall your cheeks, the teardrops falling down your face and through the air, landing square on your upper thighs, slipping down the skin.

“Shit.” You cursed, moving your hands from your thighs and up to your eyes. You wiped at the tears but they kept coming.

A groan came from beside you and looked over at König, who had just rolled over in the bed. You froze, your breath hitching in your throat slightly as you tried to keep quiet, tears silently trekking their way down your cheeks.

For a while you stared at him, your hands gripping the sheets just above your knees. You wanted the tears to stop. You wanted to lay back down and just go back to sleep. You felt guilty for thinking of yourself in such way, of thinking so badly about a body that he had spent hours working on.

Yet, despite your guilt, the thoughts remained.

Slowly, you lifted yourself from the bed and made your way into the bathroom, closing the door behind you and falling to the floor, not even taking a second to look in the mirror, you couldn’t. You pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around your leg as you cried. Your nails dug into the skin of your legs, your grip tightening with each passing second.

How you wanted to rip the flesh from your bones.

You cried for what felt like hours, the guilt coursing through your body like a typhoon. You cried for so long that your brain practically shut off, not picking up the noise from the bedroom. You failed to recognize the noise of König getting up.

You didn’t realize he was awake until you heard his voice just behind the door.

“Schatz, are you alright?” He voice is rough from sleep.

You freeze, your mind going blank and your tears momentarily pausing. You hadn’t meant to wake him up. The guilt inside you only began to build as you realized you would be the reason König is tired for work tomorrow.

“Schatz?” He repeated.

You wiped your tears quickly and stood up, straightening out your clothes. You could only hope that the cover of the night blocked König from seeing the red of your face.

Slowly, you reached out and opened the door. The second the door opens, König is pulling you into his arms, wrapping you tight in a secure, comforting hold.

He knew. He always knew, no matter how hard you tried to hide something, he always knew. There was not an aspect of your life that he wasn’t aware of, his eyes always reading you like an open book.

“What’s wrong, Schatz?” He asks, even though he already knew the answer.

You didn’t say anything in response, you just held onto him tightly, fighting back more tears. You didn’t want to appear weak in front of him, even though he’s seen you cry a thousand times before, hell you’ve even seen him cry.

He held you close for a while, running his hand across your back in a comforting motion, his nails scratching the exposed skin, where your nightgown didn’t cover, in such a way that it left goosebumps along your arms. He placed kisses on your head, forehead, and cheek, anywhere he could.

You trembled underneath his grasp. A part of you felt like you didn’t deserve this affection, that even though he so willingly gave it to, it wasn’t entirely meant for you. That was your anxiety talking, your insecurities breaching your thoughts once again. You couldn’t help but listen.

“Why do you stay with me?” You asked weakly, hoping that he hear the question.

He in fact heard it, responding after a minute of thinking. “I suppose it has something to do with the fact that I love you.” He replied, pulling away slightly so he can look in your eyes. He held your gaze, giving you a loving look. “I stay with you because I wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“But I’m…not right.” You countered, looking away from his eyes. You couldn’t hold eye contact.

He sighed and gently grabbed your chin, moving you head slowly until your eyes met his once more. “Mein Liebe, you are not “not right”. Trust me, I’ve watched you for years. You’re the most “right” person I’ve ever met. Yes, you hold your insecurities and anxieties but that doesn’t make you wrong. That simply makes you human. You’re human, Schatz. You’re perfect.”

He paused for a moment. You went to respond, wanting to tell him his words are wrong that you are in fact not perfect, but he placed a finger over your mouth. He shushed you.

“Don’t you dare tell me you aren’t perfect. Others may not see it, but they’re blind. And I know, no one is perfect, but if there was someone closer to perfect than anyone else, that would be you.”

“But-“ He shushed you again.

A part of you was frustrated he wouldn’t let you retort his statements, but another part of you was flattered by his words. Your brain was split in half and you didn’t know what to believe. Your eyes travel down to your thighs, your hands grabbing at them. You wanted them gone. You would perfect with them gone, his words would be true if they were gone.

He followed your gaze and placed his hands over yours, his hands dwarfing yours in comparison. His finger tips grazed over the skin of your thighs.

“Why do you hate something so perfect?” He asks, keeping his voice soft.

“They’re too big.” You replied, your eyes lingering on his hands.

He smiled and kissed your forehead. He spoke with his lips still against your skin. “That, [name] , is where you’re wrong.”

He slipped his hands off yours and ran them to the back of your thighs, gently squeezing them. “Here, let me show you.”

“What are-??” You were shushed by König, his lips pressed against yours in a tight kiss. Your eyes were wide with shock, you hadn’t expected this, not now, not when you had said what you said.

König kept their lips interlocked for a few moments before pulling away, a gentle smile present on his face. “Mein liebe, I don’t think you understand how much you drive me insane with that body of yours. It’s everything I could ever want and more.” He spoke in a raspy, almost husky voice.

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. A part or you wants to indulge in his words and compliments, to throw yourself upon an alter of gold, accessorized by waves of pleasure and humanly indulgent attitudes. However, another part of you wants to wallow within your own insecurities, to refute what he says and block out any positivity.

You’re confused on how to act, your thoughts racing from one spectrum to the other, your mind on the brink of insanity.

König slides his hands from her thighs and up your back, lifting up your shirt along the way. He twisted his fingers underneath the fabric and pulled the shirt over your shoulders.

“Please, schatz, allow me to show you the highs you take me to.”

You nodded, not entirely hearing his words but trusting him enough to know that he wouldn’t hurt you or pull anything stupid.

He grabbed your hand and led you over to the bed, laying you down on your back. You looked up at him, watching him as he took his own shirt off, exposing the same chest you’ve cried into many times before, the same chest whose heartbeat matches yours.

He climbed on the bed, leaning over you. Immediately, your hands reached out and ran across the surface of his chest, his warm skin causing your fingers to buzz with excitement.

He leaned down and pulled you into another kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, exploring your oral cavity with a heightened fixation. His tongue ran across the top of your mouth, causing a surprised gasp to escape you, the noise almost a borderline whimper.

His hands found your thighs again, gently kneading them underneath his massive hands. His hands might not of made her thighs feel small like the do for the rest of her body, but tonight, they certainly feel like they melt together perfectly.

König pulled away from the kiss, glancing into your eyes with a lustful look. “Mein liebling, please let me touch you, ja?”

You nodded but that wasn’t enough, not for him at least.

“Use your words.” He spoke with that husky voice, the depth of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

A red dusted her cheeks and she opened her mouth. “You may…touch me.” You whisper, putting your hands over your face in embarrassment.

König reached up grabbed your hands and pulled them away from your face. “Look at me, prinzessin.” He spoke firmly. “I want your eyes on me while I show you this.”

You nod slowly, your eyes darting over his form in slight nervousness. He smiled at your reaction and leaned down, kissing your forehead gently.

He then slides his hands down to your thighs again and lifts them up, making them perpendicular to the bed. He props them up against the bed and leans back, dropping his hands as he admired your form, all for him. After a moment of admiring, he reaches down and starts to undo his belt, loosening his pants and slipping them off.

After his pants hit the floor, he adjusts your legs and takes your own pants off, slipping them down your thighs in a slow, almost teasing, manner.

You watch him, wanting nothing more than to hide your face. This isn’t the first time y’all have done something like this but at the same time, it almost felt like he was touching you for the first time all over again. Everything felt wildly new and foreign.

Once your pants were off, he let them fall to the floor. He threw your legs over his shoulder and pulled your backside flat against him, your ass pressed firmly against his boner.

Your face was red before but nothing beats how red your face is now. He has one hand holding your knees in place over his shoulder, the other wrapped around your waist, keeping you flush against him.

He then slips his d!ck between your thighs, letting out a low groan of pleasure as he moved between you. Your eyes widen at this, the friction of him moving against you enough to elicit small whimpers from her.

“Let me…” He begins rocking his hips in a steady, agonizingly slow rhythm. “…show you how much I love you thighs, mein liebe.”

You could only nod, wanting nothing more for him to continue. For the first time that night, your thoughts slow down and you focused on him and nothing else but him. Your confusion clears and it’s easy to spot what you want.

“Please.”

:)

[trigunwritings]

Hello hell-o!!, so i wanna request can i get Gn! Reader with base on a song hire the song

Gn! Reader who is an angel who fall from the heaven , disguise her self as a human, Bit by bit they try and try to help people , but somewhat felling bit sad and you know.. Kinda hate himself , eventually they meet humanoid typhoon it self, and so bit by bit spent time with him, The reader wanted to show her true self ( like wings and Halo things ect) and yet they did but reader said " I'm look bad aren't i? " But Ofc you know Vash Like shut the reader up and tell that they are Not bad ect ect

SO YE IT'S MIGHT BE SAD A LIL BUT IN THE END READER HAPPY WOOO!!!

One step placed in front of the one before it, the motion even and repeating. It’s almost a mantra of physical movement, over and over again with no seeming end in sight—both metaphorical as much as physical. Onward. That’s all you can think. Onward and onward.

How long? The hot days and cold nights have begun to blur together.

How far? You’ve lost count of the steps since last meeting the eyes of another living thing.

The feeling of sand beneath your feet has gone numb, faded into the background of pure existence just like everything else; the sharp wind, the cold darkness, the air burning beneath a merciless sun. Things like hunger, sleep, thirst—they are nothing, but you are not without a physical sense that feels lacking and empty.

But it’s for the best, you tell yourself.

A lie, you tell yourself.

-

It’s never a good idea to stay in one place too long. If you do, people begin to get curious; from there, curiosity turns into suspicion, then to realization, and then accusation. It’s the same cycle every. single. time. Once one person knows the origin of their town’s newfound ‘miracles’ then its only a matter of hours to get out before they inevitably try to corner you with desperate pleas and agonizing voices of hope.

Please heal my son, he’s been sick for so long-

-bless our crops so that they will finally grow, or else we’ll starve-

-you can’t leave without helping us!

Help us.

You have to.

Each voice is a stone you drag along behind you, tied inexplicably to your memories no matter how hard you want to forget them. Sometimes they are just desperate and think they must convince you to part with some of your strength in order to heal their sick, their tired, their hungry. Other times—most other times—they think you are selfish and evil. To be capable of helping people and not doing so, they say, is that not a form of evil itself?

And that is why you roam. Why you can’t afford to stay without bringing even more harm and fear to the very people you want to help. Why you are afraid to let anyone see you. Know you.

Beg you.

Curse you.

It’s for the best, you tell yourself.

-

Your existence spans so many years that its hard to pull specific moments apart from the relative gray that haunts you. Moments of fleeting joy interspersed with empty desert, sand beneath your feet and wind howling in your ears.

But is shattered by the companionship of one singular man, and his name is Vash.

At first you’re wary of him, hoping to leave his presence and escape to your self-enforced isolation every moment that you can. And yet somehow he sticks to you without fail, as if he has the same levels of unending stamina and inhuman lack of basic needs—but he is so… bright? Joyful? Having grown so used to the cold, dark auras of people in need, Vash’s soul is like staring directly into the sun.

You think that he will wander off on his own path eventually, but he doesn’t—nor does he ask any questions when most would.

The random feathers strewn about camp in the morning after bedding down for the night (it felt nice to sleep again).

Your constant supply of food somehow procured from deep within the old bag on your shoulders (when did it taste so good?).

He did not even question when, in the quiet moments beneath the dark night sky, you held up your cupped hands so that he could sip from the water that miraculously came into existence from nothing at all. And as you sipped in kind, it tasted so cool and refreshing against your dry throat.

When had it been so quenching?

-

“Vash.”

The sound of his name stopped the man mid-step. He turns, eyes glancing back towards you curiously but saying nothing in reply.

He has to know. Why won’t he say something about it? Why isn’t he calling you selfish?

“I’m not human,” you say, the words like needles against your tongue.

He’s quiet for a moment before a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“I know.”

“This is not what I really look like.”

“I know.”

You stare at him for an unknown amount of time before your gaze moves down towards the sand shifting around your feet. How many grains of sand was there on this planet? How many people had succumbed to its deadly embrace? Starvation when you could have created food, illness when you could have healed them. How many people have died in which you could have saved?

A hand suddenly comes down upon your shoulder, jolting you from your thoughts so viscerally that when you look back up to see Vash standing in front of you, there must be tears in your eyes from how much they burn.

“Having the power to help one person doesn’t obligate you to help everyone.”

Hypocrite, but an honest one.

He brings his hands up to cup either side of your face. Is that empathy in his eyes? An understanding? Whatever emotion lies within them, it is interlaced with a pain you are all too familiar with. The pain of regret and guilt.

But his touch is soft and warm. New and unfamiliar. In that very moment, you suddenly realize that there’s not a singular moment within the gray sea of existence that you remember someone touching you like this. It’s nice.

And that’s when your wings shimmer into material existence. Feathers swirl in the air around you both, as numerous and white as forgotten bones strewn across the desert. With but a simple motion they expand outward, so wide that they cast a dark shadow across Vash’s entire body from the suns behind you. Two, four… six? Maybe more, countable and uncountable in ways a human’s eyes can’t always perceive.

The golden ring of light above your head sits like a crown, though it feels many times heavier. Neither a physical or material shape, it hums and wavers in and out of existence as the sunlight scatters through the air. You can even feel the marks start taking shape on your skin—words of a language so old that it spoke the universe into existence.

And Vash doesn’t look away from you.

He watches, smile never fading, holding your face in his palms even when he must feel the weight of a thousand mountains on his shoulders in your presence. Even as the air is hard to breathe, even when your very whispers are like thunder, he looks at you with such fondness.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”

And for the first time since the dawn of time itself, you truly believed him.

[brasideios]

Music Tag game

Shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people.

I was tagged by @aro-pancake Thank you for thinking of me! 🙌🏼

(I don’t have Spotify so, as usual, I just shuffled my one giant YouTube music list that I use as default when I can’t decide what I want to listen to.)

The Buzz by Hermitude. Mellow Australian electro ftw.

Crushing Hard by Urthboy. Aussie hip-hop with a side of break beats. This song is currently making me write a fic I said I’d never write.

Blood - Gang of Youths. Just a solid emotional cover of… Mumford and Sons, I think?

Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars. Sometimes, you just wanna have a lil bop. That’s all.

Rock It by Little Red. Maybe also Australian - memory says yes but that may be contextual. This song feels like bottled nostalgia to me.

Oblivion by Royal Blood. This whole album (Typhoons) is fantastic, and this song is no exception.

Midnight City by M83. A song that speaks so powerfully of a place and time and feeling. I love it.

Pompeii by Bastille. Listen. Anything that speaks to a break up and the destruction of Pompeii at once is going to punch me in the feels.

I Don’t Know Why by Imagine Dragons. Their music is so singable and light.

The Money Game by Ren. I don’t know how this series of songs isn’t the anthem of Tumblr. It’s anti capitalist, anti colonialism, urges people to recognise their part in it all. But here we are.

Tagging my music loving mutuals (and forgetting half of them fr) @krankittoeleven @ainulindaelynn @findusinaweek @mini-uzzy no pressure ofc!

[corruptedroses]

— Hold your breath gently

ask box open | commissions open | hit the tip jar | Patreon | masterlist

Fandom — Genshin Impact Pairing — Kaedehara Kazuha/reader Summary — What was Kazuha like the first time you made love? Content Warnings — nongendered reader, gentle sex, fluff with porn Author's note — the brain worms win at 1 am, a kazuchoke.

It probably was a nice summer night when Kazuha finally approached you, the lump in his throat larger than his heart. His sweetheart, his muse, his reason to love, how could he think of you in such naughty ways? It was hard for him to come to terms that these thoughts meant that he was probably ready for the next step until they consumed him.

He wanted to touch your skin, your body, your soul, he wanted to be inside you and feel your heartbeat with his. He wanted to hear those little gasps, and moans, make you come undone because of him and him alone. So many of these thoughts swirled in his head daily, like a typhoon ready to crash onto shores, yet there was still a part of him that muttered in the very back of his mind that he didn't deserve you.

He probably asked when you two were on the road, wandering hand in hand, the anemo swirling around the two of you when he asked. It was almost out of the blue, almost so sudden as the normally composed man rushed out his words. It was almost like a blur as you stopped and asked him to repeat what he said.

"Would... Would you like to make love, tonight?"

He thought the shock on your face was rejection at first, going to move his hat in front of his face before your hands took hold of his, stopping him from covering the eyes that you adored. It had shocked you, sure, but you weren't going to say no to him.

It was like all the anxiety had been released from his chest when you had said those words.

This man 100% tries to make the mood romantic with what little he does carry on him. Sets up a nice fire, makes sure that there's nobody around, and serenades you with sweet words and longings while holding you gently.

Oh, this man touches you gently. Be it the power of anemo or the power of a sword maker, Kazuha's fingers knew how to touch you the moment that they came in contact with your skin. He was slow, he was gentle, he kept looking at your face to make sure you didn't want him to stop.

You never wanted him to stop, you wanted him to keep doing this forever.

Those kisses, usually so airy and giving, would want to devour your lips the more the two of you got into it, the more you two explored each others bodies, the more you two decided to test the waters. It was like he was stealing your air, invading your space in every way that felt good. It was Kazuha, the man that you wanted to trust your entire soul to.

Clothes would be laid on the ground like a bed, the starlight above acting as the background, the campfire only emphasizing the two bodies that would be intertwined. He would feel his heart pounding, hammering against his chest, booming like the greatest thunder, but yet his eyes would be as warm as the sun that you adored, as gentle as the breeze that swept through the air.

You were his world in that moment, he wouldn't even think of looking away.

A gentle lover, a soft lover, his lips would press against sweat-laden skin as he would eventually push into you, feeling the way your walls would tighten around the part of him that joined the two of you together. This was it, you were taking him into the most intimate parts of you.

He wouldn't chase after his release any more than he would chase after yours, making sure that you would be in the throws of pleasure the entire time the two of you would love on that summer night, the sound of the crickets singing their songs that joined your grunts, your moans, your gasps. It would feel so hot yet so warm, you could feel goosebumps lining your skin from where he would kiss, you would feel his fingers as they would brush against the most sensitive parts of you.

He would never be able to tell stories or write poems about the way your face looked that night, the heights of pleasure being sung from your mouth as the two of you would come undone. Love, pleasure, relief, it would all fade into one as he would press his forehead against yours.

And it wouldn't be the last time he loved you like this.

[xelinezeddiorsstuff]

Chapter 1: Make it out

"An escape to meet others like me means breaking down connections such as what happens within"

Words: 4664

I open my eyes, I am standing in the middle of the ocean near my house. The breeze was strong, the sky was a dark grey, and the waves of the ocean were big and dangerous. It was almost like a typhoon. Something didn't feel right at all. In fact, it was like another presence was there with me. The wind blew stronger, I felt like it was about to push me, but for some reason, it didn't.

I look around only to see nothing but the whole ocean surrounding me. But then I hear a voice and I recognise it, it was my mom's. "Isla tulungan mo ako please" (Isla please help me). I froze I haven't heard her voice since I was 8 years old, the words kept repeating.

I slowly turn to the direction of her voice but it was too late the water around me became blood and I started to hear sobbing. I tried to move but for some reason I was stuck, it was like being trapped in a box or something. Then I tried to scream, nothing came out. Then my mom appeared infront of me looking at me, angrily.

"AHHHH!" I screamed as I woke up. I look around me and suddenly felt safe to see that it was my room that I saw. I tried to calm myself down by doing the breathing exercises my aunt told me to do. My forehead was covered with sweat and tears started to form in my eyes. I continue to do the breathing exercises until I finally calmed down.

"It was one of those dreams again." I sighed as I get the glass of water I prepared for myself in case something like this happens again. These days it's becoming more and more frequent for some reason.

I put the glass down and looked at my phone. It was 2:30 am, it was the time of day once again. I leave my phone and start preparing for my daily swim. Normally I would do this in my family pool but there isn't a crime in doing this in the ocean, but my extended family thinks of it as a crime. Maybe this is the time to prove them wrong.

"Vitamins are taken, My temperature is normal and regulated, skin checked. Alright time for my swim." I say as I go downstairs and head for the front door.

------------

I get out of the house and lock my door. I put my keys in a pot of plants, knowing no one will get it since I'm mostly the one who takes care of the garden. Then I head out into the ocean. The night was cold, and I shivered as I walked down the beach since I was only wearing a robe.

The dream I had would have been a sign, people will think it would be a sign to not get into the water but I knew that it was definitely a warning for something else. The dreams keep coming back, I haven't had them since I was 18 but they came back 6 years later. I start to think to myself as to why they came back but then stop when realised I was already at the spot.

Thankfully this part of the beach is private property of ours. I look around me to see if maybe a family member was out or if someone came looking for me but thankfully no one came looking for me. I took off my robe and walked into the ocean nude.

My body then started transforming. Scales appeared in several parts of my body, and gils started to appear. My hands started becoming webbed, and most importantly, my tail, yes I am indeed a Serena (Filipino siren). My mother was a siren. She was also famous as she caught people's attention in her siren form.

I look at webbed hands only to see how poor the condition of my siren form was, my webbed hands were stiff and slimy unlike a healthy Serena where it is flexible and rubber like, my gils felt clogged and I couldn't breathe properly, and lastly my tail and scales they were loosing their original color from a bright red tail to a Grayish pink. I knew I wasn't crazy. The pool that my aunt kept me in since they thought it was safer was more dangerous than they thought.

The pool chemical were killing my siren form slowly, but they wouldn't see the problem. A Serena needs natural minerals from natural bodies of water in order to maintain our fish like bodies. 'Hopefully, I have enough time before they wake up to at least help myself in this form,' I thought as I began swimming around

------

It has almost been four hours at most. My Serena form started to heal almost immediately, but I knew it still wasn't enough. I explored parts of the ocean that was near the beach, the oceans in the Phillippines are so polluted I wasted nearly half my time picking up trash and objects from the ocean floor. There was nothing exciting about swimming in that area since there was nearly no fish or anything, but I knew I had to stay just for my own health.

Another hours passed and I was relaxing on the ocean floor when all of a sudden I saw a familiar boat, my cousins boat. I immediately swam up since I knew they were already looking for me.

"Isla, Isla!! Isla bumalik ka na, galit na si tita!!"(Isla, come back, Auntie is getting mad already) I heard from underwater before popping my head out.

"Nandito na ako, bakit naman sila galit eh kailangan ko naman talaga ng tubig para mabuhay" (I'm here already, why are they even mad when I really do need water to survive) complained. My cousin then pulled me up and gave me a robe.

"Eh kasi naman alam mo may mga mangingisda na dumadaan dito. Baka makuha ka at ibebenta ka sa palengke sa Presyong 100k" (Well, because you know that there are fishermen who pass by here. Maybe they'll catch you and sell in the market for the price of 100k) My cousin joked, and I just kicked him while he was rowing back to our house.

------

We finally reached the shore of our house, and to no one's surprise my aunt was there, full on ready to scold.

"Anak ng tokneneng, ilang bese ka na sinabihan Isla na wag na wag kang lumangoy sa dagat. May swimming pool naman tayo bat di mo yun gamitin?" (Son of a bitch, how many times do we have to tell you not to swim into the ocean. We have swimming pool, why dont you use that?) My aunt said.

"Tita sinasabi ko naman sainyo na kailangan ko ang tubig ng dagat para lang di masira ang Serena form ko eh. Lagi kong sinasabi sainyo di kayo naniniwala." (Auntie, I already told you over and over that I really need the oceans water just so that my Serena form won't fall ill. I keep telling you all, but you guys don't believe me.) I said as I started to walk into the house.

"Isla ano ba, alam mo naman may mga mangisngisda dumadaan doon. Gusto mo ba mamatay?" (Isla, what is it with you? You already know that fishermen pass there. Do you want to die?) My aunt yelled as I went into the garden and grabbed my keys from the pot.

"Eh pinapatay niyo na nga ako ng onti onti sa pool na sinasabing niyong mas safe. Tita, namamatay na nga yung Serena form ko di niyo ba nakikita?" (Well, you guys are already killing me bit by bit in the pool that you guys say is safer for me. Auntie, my Serena form is dying, don't you see?) I yelled as I approached our front door.

"Oo nakikita ko pero isipin mo naman kami, di kami Serena kagaya ng mama mo at baka patayin ka pa pag may makikita sayo. Kung sana lang may lugar talaga na para sa mga Serena lang talaga eh o kahit anong monster na kagaya mo puntahan namin para sayo. Kaso wala eh wala tayo magawa." (Yes, I see it, but think about how we feel, we're not Serenas like your mom, and it's possible that you can die just from someone else seeing you. If only there was a place for just you as a Serena or maybe even other monsters, we would go there just for you. But there isn't and there's nothing we can do.) Aunt said before giving me a towel and some slippers.

"Kung meron ako mahanap na Lugar para saakin kung saan di ako papatayin, papayagan niyo ba ako pumunta doon?" (If there was a place that I found that it just for me, where I can't be killed, will you allow me to go there?) I said as I dried my hair with the towel. "Oo, bibigyan kita ng pera para pumunta doon. Pero parang impossible eh. (Yes, I'll give you money just to go there. But it's just impossible.) My aunt said going inside our house.

'I don't think it's impossible. I'm not the only creature in this world. There has to be a place. I'll research on it after work.' I thought to myself as I headed inside my house.

"Ate Isla kakain ka po ng pang umaga?" (Isla will you eat breakfast?) My younger cousin said as he sat down on our dinner table. "Sorry but I still have to prepare for work," I said as I looked at the clock it was 7:12.

"Work from home ka naman, okay lang yan ah. Di mo naman na kailangan maligo." (It's just work from home, though. That's just okay already. You dont need to take a bath) My cousin teased. "Kuya naman," I said as I was still drying my hair.

"Isla, bakit ka parin nag oonline sa trabaho mo na yan? Diba pwede ka naman mag face to face sa trabaho mo?" (Isla, why are you still online in that job of yours? Aren't you allowed to have it f2f?) My cousin said. "Eh kasi naman si tita ayaw ipa face to face ako. Tsaka, just being safe lang siguro." (Well, because Auntie doesn't want me to go face to face. And you know just being safe, I guess.) I said as I walked up the stairs.

Once I was in my bedroom, I could hear my auntie complaining about me, how insensitive I was, how irresponsible I was, I was already used to how she was so I gave it no mind but it still bothered me so much that I just decided work will take my mind off it.

I prepared myself for work, took a bath, and set up my workspace but not without greeting my boyfriend, Mark, I our usual good-morning texts, we've been distant these days but I know that it was because of our work, who would've guessed that a model and an online psychiatrist would have a loving relationship.

-----------

Timeskip

It was about my lunch time, I knew that my cousins were out and so was my auntie so I was eating lunch alone or was I? I thought of maybe calling my boyfriend for lunch, we used to do that when he was travelling but when I opened his message I saw that he didn't answer my text this morning. I just thought he was busy, so I just went ahead and heated up the leftovers that were left from breakfast and went back to work immediately.

Another hour passed I was finishing up with a regular client of mine when my phone to started to ring in the middle, I was about to decline it when my client and said that it was okay for me to answer since it might be important. I thanked the client and looked at my phone to see who was calling. It was Mark.

'Finally, maybe he's going to ask me out after my shift." I thought to myself as I answered the phone.

------

"Love! Kamusta naman?" (Love! How are you?) I said excitingly, but then I heard him sigh, my stomach dropped, and I already sensed that this may not be good.

"Fine, but we have to talk. When does your shift end?" He said coldly, I don't know what's going on. Did something happen to him? I quickly removed those thoughts.

"The session that I'm having right now will end around 3:00. I could meet you by then. Where will we meet?" I said trying to control my voices, my siren senses and gut feeling are telling the same thing. This will not end well, his change of tone, the way he has distance himself from you in any way unlike before, the way he just sees your messages but never replies. It's all leading to one thing, a breakup.

"I'll go to your house by then." He sighed. I start shaking, I wasn't prepared for this. I have been so avoidant of love until I met him and we've been together for so long ever since my last year of highschool. We knew that our career paths would make it harder for us but I didn't think it would lead to this. Even if he hadn't said it yet, you already know that it's coming, it's coming to an end.

"Alright, be safe driving. I love you." I said with a trembly voice, everything started to become blurry. It felt like more weight was put on your shoulders. "Okay." I heard him say while he hanged up the phone.

I was about to breakdown by then but I knew I still had a job, I took a deep breath and went back to my client. I knew myself well enough that after that phone call, I'm not going to be myself at my work but I thought that maybe just maybe I could at least put in decent effort just for my client.

-------

3 pm came, I was hoping that time would stop at that very moment. While you were having that session, you couldn't help but pray that the minutes would go slower. I pray that he would change his mind on the way there, but you thought wrong. I saw the notification. He was there already.

I was hesitant to go down, I already knew what was about to happen, but I still didn't want to face it since I loved him so much, more than I know. But then I told myself that maybe if I pull through this quicker, the faster I have to go through it. I took a deep breath and headed outside.

Once I was there, I saw him. His face was showing little to no emotion. The hope that I held on suddenly disappeared, just by looking at his face. It wasn't like the first time he came to my house, where I ran to him with joy and excitement. Now I could barely move. I slowly approached him, and each step felt like I was going towards a cliff. Then suddenly I was in front of him, this felt like I was on the edge of that cliff.

"Isla, I think you know where this is going already. I know you have strengthened senses from your Serena nature from my call earlier." Mark said as he brought a box.

"Just say it already, I know we fell apart from our careers and I know there isn't anything I can do anymore. Even after I tried so hard to keep what we had." I said as I look at the box he was holding.

"No... it's not because we fell apart." He sighed. I look at him, senses were picking up an emotion that wasn't supposed to be in this. Guilt. Maybe he was guilty for falling out of love with me, I told myself to wait patiently for him to speak.

"Isla, I'm so sorry... I cheated on you. I cheated on you with another model who I worked with and now she's pregnant." He said as he gave me the box. Everything around me felt like it dropped. I wanted to scream, to punch him, to cry, but I couldn't. My mind was blank, the only thing I could think about were the possibilities of who he cheated on me with.

"So you're breaking up with me just because she's pregnant? Why didn't you do so sooner?" I asked with a shaky voice, but I really did mean that question. He was already cheating on me. Why did he wait until the girl got pregnant just to break it off? I think it was obvious by now since he always said he wanted a family, but did he really have to cheat for that? I was willing to be a bride for him anyway. I was ready.

"Isla, I'll be honest with you whenever I thought about a future with you. I felt uncomfortable with the fact that my child wasn't going to be like the other kids. You told me you spent your life avoiding kids in the streets since you were always afraid that once they find out that you're a Serena, you'll be killed." He explained.

"Cut the crap. Just say that you want a normal family with a normal woman. After everything we've been through. Did that all mean nothing to you?" I yelled, starting to feel tears going down.

"No. I just really want this, and you're just not.... you're too focused on work. And I may not be a Serena, but I feel like something bigger is coming for you in your job." He paused to look at his watch. It was 3:13 pm, 13 minutes passed, but to me, it felt like a whole hour. I don't know how to feel now, am I supposed to be angry? Am I supposed to be sad? Was I even supposed to feel anything? Fuck, I don't know.

"I'm sorry but this is the end for us Isla. I'm so sorry but I have to go, we both still have jobs to do but be safe hope you find another person who loves you." He said as he patted my shoulders. I looked at him and nodded, I didn't know what to say at that moment. He went into his car and began to drive off.

-----

As his car began to drove off. I began to breakdown, all of the emotions that I held onto for so long have finally left me. Betrayed, hurt, and empty was all I could feel.

"Isla?" I turned around to see my cousin standing behind me. I started to wonder if he saw the whole thing. "Diba sasakyan yun ni Mark? Ano nangyare.." (Isn't that the car of Mark? What happened...) He paused when he looked at me. Tears would not stop falling. I suddenly felt him hug me, then grabbed my arm slowly so that he could bring me inside.

"Kuya...." I sighed. He put me down on the couch and pulled out a tub of ice cream. "Buti nalang naiisipan bumili ng ice cream. Nagcracrave kasi ako eh nung ko papunta na ako dito. Teka lang, wag ka muna mag kwento kunin ko muna ang mga kutsara at baso." (It's good that I thought of buying ice cream. I was craving it while I was going back here. Wait for a while, don't tell me just yet. I'll just get the spoons and cups.) He said as he stood up and went to our kitchen. I'm thankful that he was here by the time Mark left because knowing how he looked at me as his sister instead of cousin, he would've beaten Mark up.

"Eto na. Yung mas malaki na baso para lang sayo." (Here it is. The bigger cup just for you.) He gave the cup and spoon. "Now, tell me what's going on? I'll just speak English for this one for you to know the therapy vibe." He joked, trying to make me feel better, which did make me giggle a bit.

"Mark and I broke up..... but he also revealed to me one thing." I whispered with a shaky voice. My cousin then looked at me as he was scooping the tub of ice cream, silently asking me for an explanation. "Turns out, he was cheating on me, and now he got the girl pregnant." I explained. My tears were starting to come out once more, and all the thoughts came back to me, but just then, I was cut off by spoon falling.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him. I FUCKING KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP WITH HIM" My cousin yelled as he stood up and marched through the door. I stood up quickly wiping my tears and grabbed him. "Kuya please. Tapos na, umalis na siya at di na rin yan babalik dito." (Kuya please. It's done, he left and he won't come back here ever.) I pleaded with him because I know him well to know that he would get his hands bloody just to protect me but in that moment I just really needed him to comfort me because I was about to breakdown again and I did since I started sobbing and feeling my tears.

Then it was like he read my mind since he just hugged me and brought me back to couch. Usually we would talk about what our problems were and how to fix it but all I needed right now was a distraction from all this. I was so thankful he bought ice cream since it really was comfort food. We just both sat there in silence enjoying our ice cream and the others company.

----

"You know.." I turned to my cousin who finally spoke up after half an hour of silence. "Right Auntie told you that if there was a place just for you or any monster in this world, she would do anything for you to be there." I look at him with sudden excitement because my senses were telling me he was going to show me something.

"Well... I have to show you something!" He exclaimed while grabbed his laptop out of his bag. "I hope the ice cream didn't make it wet." He whispered as he got his laptop out of his bag. "You could've just told me to get my laptop upstairs you know that?" I jokingly asked. "That wouldn't make it special." He stated as he started to open his laptop. I started to question what the hell he was going to show since he looks really excited to show mr what he found, he was typing somewhat aggressively on his laptop which made me even more curious.

"Here!" He said turning his laptop to me. I looked at his laptop and it showed me a school website, the school name was Nevermore. I took a closer look at his laptop to see all of the details, the more I read the more excited I get. It was like a finding a part of you, you didn't think exists, feeling like this is finally your place, feeling like you finally found the answers to you problem. "This.. is amazing! Kuya, where did you find this?" I asked excitingly while scrolling the page even more.

"My coworker told me she recently came back from a trip to Vernont and stumbled across that school. She told everything about it or at least everything she heard from people from the town that was located in." He explained. That's when I looked at the location of the school. It was in America, meaning I could possibly go there with my own money. "I don't know.... what will Auntie think?" I asked since I was worried that despite her words from this morning, she would not allow me to go.

"Sabi niya nga, kung may mahanap kang lugar para sayo dun ka na daw. Kunin mo na ah may job application sila o, tignan mo." (Well, didn't she say if there was a place for you, you'll be there. Take the chance already there's a job application going on, look.) He pointed at the website, and I took a closer look at it to see that there was an opening for a guidance counsellor.

"Wait, why is there an opening for a guidance counsellor position if there's literally a therapist they visit in the town that are located in?" I asked, scrolling to the part of the oage where it showed that they have a therapist they could console to named, Dr. Valerie Kinbott.

"Di ko rin ngay alam. Tanongin mo nalang pag ininterview ka." (I really don't know as well. Maybe you could ask when you get interviewed) He answered. I just nodded my head but then I looked at him with surprise when I realised what he said. "Anong interview?" (What interview?) I asked nearly shouting because of how surprised I was.

He looked at me for a second and laughed. "Surprise! I got you an interview for that job. It's going to be this Friday, do your best." He answered while patting my shoulders . I look at him with wide eyes, not knowing how he did it. "Well, to explain this, I kind of hacked into your work email and emailed the school during lunch since I know that's the time you don't check emails. It was wrong, but like this is a really great opportunity for you." He explained. I looked at him mouth agape, so many things had happened within the past day, honestly it's overwhelming.

"Thank you kuya, buti nalang na Wednesday ngayon at Friday yung interview para may ako makaprepare pa ako para sa interview na eto." (Thank you kuya, it's good that today is Wednesday and the interview is on Friday so that I still have time to prepare for my interview.) I sighed, not knowing what to feel since it's been a roller coaster. First I get scolded and talked shit about by my auntie just for taking care of myself, secondly my long term boyfriend cheated on me, and now my cousin just revealed to me that he hacked into my work email and got me a job in a place that could accommodate my occult. The emotions are mixed and I know that my cousin could tell.

"Marami kang pinagdaanan ngayon Isla. Pero isipin mo ng ganito, kung di mo toh kunin at di ka na talaga paoayagan sa dagat ni tita. Mamatay ka talaga. Kahit pagbigyan mo nalang yung interview na yan. Kung hindi ka nakuha edi atleast ginawa mo ang lahat, diba?" (You've been through alot today Isla. But think of it like this, if you don't take this and you won't ever be allowed in the ocean everr again by auntie. You will die. If you don't get chosen for the job then atleast you tried right?) He comforted me while hugging and rocking me, he used to do that every time everything got intense at home.

We pulled apart and I feel he secretly has a mind reading since he immediately went into the cupboards and pulled out my favorite wine. "Sabihin ko kay tita di ka kakain ng pang gabi. Mag rest ka muna, umiyak, sumigaw, or suntukin mo unan mo. Ilabas mo lang mga emotions mo. (I'll tell auntie that you won't eat dinner. You should rest, cry, yell, or just punch your pillow. Just let out all of your emotions.) He said while I took the wine out of his hand. "Dalhin mo muna yang alak na yan, ako na sa mga baso at ice cream" (Bring that wine of yours, I'll handle the cups and the ice cream.) He added.

Nevermore...

[erismor-iok]

My WIP for 'Who are you?' A CSM X JJK

Content Warning:

Major Spoilers for Chainsaw Man Part 1, so anime-only people, you have been warned.

Author's Note:

A fanfiction crossover between Chainsaw Man and Jujutsu Kaisen! This idea would not leave my head so I thought, hey! why not make a fanfic out of it! I do plan on making a full-length fic and if this does well, I'll post it here on Tumblr! (Also there is like no JJk in this one so sorry!)

Word count: 986

Chapter 1: Welcome to your new home

September 12, 1997

"Open it."

Her word washes over him like a typhoon, drowning him in cold water. He feels as if he is stumbling through honey as it tries to drag him deeper and deeper into its sweet but deadly embrace.

His heart races as blood rushes into his ears. Her following words cut through it effortlessly, drowning everything out until only her words remained.

"You don’t have to think about a thing," she begins. Automatically, his eyes flickered to her face, searching for something. What is that thing? He doesn’t know himself.

"Trust me."

His body moves before his mind can even comprehend her words. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ His body inches closer to the door. ‘No thinking; that's why I came here, right? To be her dog?’

One footstep becomes two—only 5 more to go.

'When I open the door,'

4 more.

'When I open the door, Power will be there, smiling.'

3.

'She’ll pull a party popper, and she'll be holding a cake, and... Huh?'

2.

'Why would she have a cake?'

1.

‘-Oh, duh… because tomorrow’s my birthday.’

Power stands there with a white birthday cake in her hands.

"D-denji…"

"BANG"

September 17, 1997

He awakes with a gasp.

The heat bombards him, reminding him of its presence. Buzzing cicadas hum in his ears as he feels his shirt stick to his skin like a second layer. The sweltering humidity isn’t helped by the fact that the small girl is curled in his arms.

His wide eyes slowly drifted to her form, reminding him of the present. A small pang of envy is felt as not a drop of sweat can be found on her porcelain face. Unlike his, where he could already feel new drops racing down his blotchy, tan skin, His thin, straw-like hair was wet.

Maybe the heat is getting to him, or perhaps it’s the dream that led him to think about the last thing Pochita said to him weeks ago.

"...Grant the Control Devil’s dream." He softly mumbles, not realizing it until the words leave his mouth, flying off into the wind for no one but his ears alone.

When Pochita said it, he thought it would be easy. Make sure to raise her on love, not fear; give her room to grow normally; and give her lots of hugs. But now, staring at her, he doubts

 He feels a sliver of it embedding itself in his head. Whispering to him that this was all for nothing, that this would end up being another failure, and that his unluckiness will continue.

And the worst part about it is that he doesn’t refute it.

(His grip tightened as he pulled her closer to his body. Yet, somewhere deep in his body, there was a knee-jerk reaction to shove her off and run far away. Somewhere, her spiraling golden gaze may never find.

He wants to hug; he wants to push. He ends up doing neither.)

After all, there is already precedent for him destroying everything he loves.

September 25, 1997

It’s been a week since—whatever that was. (Of him hating a child—a child who used to be the lady who took everything from him and controlled him like a puppet since day one. Maki-)

"Denj-kuni,"

He hadn't even noticed that his hands were trembling. Exhaling a shaky breath, he turned his head to the girl sitting in front of the TV with her seven huskies. It’s a funny sight—a tiny, dark girl with a poker face lying on top of a mountain of fluff that can bark.

Subconsciously, he can feel his mouth pull into a small smile at the sight.

"Yeah?"

She opens her mouth before closing it and then reopening it. He watches in both confusion and faint amusement as this cycle repeats itself before she flops her head into white fur. Giving up.

"Can we have curry for dinner?" She mumbles into the fur, loud enough for him to hear.

"Eh? I mean…" Lulling his head backward, he mentally went through his checklist of everything he would need to make curry and if he had it in the fridge.

August 10, 1997

"-And now, we add the roux and let it dissolve into the curry."

Aki’s stern voice continues to drone on about how to make his admittedly very good- curry. 

His eyes slowly crawl toward Power as he lets Aki’s words turn into white noise. While he at least tried to pay attention to his lesson, Power gave up 30 minutes ago, claiming that the ‘great’ and ‘powerful’ blood demon "need not engage herself with such human things."

Now, She was sprawled out on the couch, Meowy on her stomach, as they engorged themselves in some animated cartoon about sponges and pineapples that live under the sea.

‘Not engage in human things, my ass.’ He thought to himself, staring at her from his seat on the counter stool.

"Now, cover it and let it simmer for... Are you even listening?"

"...No."

A shit-eating grin forms on his face as he sees Aki’s glare crumble right before his eyes, morphing into a disappointed but not-surprised stare. One that Denji takes great pride in causing.

Aki signs before his eyes light up with an idea.

"Denji-Kun," The smile he wore was almost always accompanied by some trap, an offer he knew Denji wouldn’t refuse. Yet, even with that knowledge, Denji thought the smile looked nice on him, made his eyes look less dull, and made him look younger.

It’s better than the ‘frown,’ at least.

Although Denji hasn’t seen the ‘frown’ in a while now that he thinks about it,

"Do you want to know my-"

September 25, 1997

"- Secret to how to make a good curry?" Denji asks, a twinkle in his eyes and ash in his mouth as he repeats what Aki told him that day.