#my copy paste man

[bruh-myguy-what]

I’ll never forget you,

My Love…

[yumeyumeappleo]

dumb thing i doodled on my phone

[hastalavistabyebye]

Fox was hiding away. He knew he was but he couldn't stop. 

It was so easy to just bury himself into the insane amounts of work he had, to let every new emergency -and force, were there many- sweep him away again and again, to think he'll answer this comm later because he was too busy right now. But he was always busy and never had time to respond. 

He wasn't faking any of it, of course not. But he could admit to himself that it also made convenient excuses. 

The world was just too much. Too loud, too fast, too angry, too pressing. It was so much easier to fall into the routine of his duty. He knew how to do that, how to act and behave. He didn't need to think, didn't have time to be self-conscious. It was kriffing awful and hard and he hated it, true. But it was also known territory, strangely comfortable. It was so simple to just disappear like that. He didn't need to be him, he just had to fill his Marshall Commander’s armor. 

And he could let the rest of the world run around him, without getting dragged in the dirt behind it, unable to keep up. Numbness keeping him afloat, holding him up like a buoy drifting in the current. He just needed to keep his limbs clear from the water, safely tucked away in the buoy, head down to not look at the vastness of sea he was lost in and let it get to him. 

But, of course, it couldn't last. Nobody can run forever. Must it be because you have crossed the finish line, and there's nowhere to run to anymore. Or that your body simply gave up on you. There's always a moment where you can't do anything else but stop. 

Fox didn't know which one happened -the finish line or his body stopping. Or at least, which one arrived first -after all, the war had ended and he couldn't even remember when he started running. 

He didn't remember most of his crash either. 

One day, Palpatine was dead. The Jedi came and healed them, protected them, offered shelter to the Guard like they had done for the GAR. His batchers came too, bypassing the unanswered comms, the declined invitations. He thought that his officers -his own vod'ike- let them in. Maybe they even sic them on him. 

One day, he simply looked up from his desk. There was no emergency, no datawork to complete, but there was his batch in front of him. Ponds’ concerned frown. Wolffe’s mismatched eyes analyzing everything. Bly’s calm and controlled focus, seemingly keeping the entire room stable. Cody plotting, ready to act. Rex wasn't there, but it wasn't a surprise for Fox. It was the only thing that was predictable really. 

Then he was crying in a cuddle pile. He had thought to be hollow for so long, felt like it in his very bones, keeping himself so thoroughly out of everything that could turn upsetting and he could avoid, everything that could make him feel. He had thought that if he could control his emotions, keep them calm and quiet, then he would be peaceful too. He believed that the cost was to stay away from anything that could make him feel too strongly, unknowing that he was simply hiding from his very feelings. He believed that quietness and peace were this impression of being an empty shell, discarded and left alone. Thin, hollow walls of nacre, home to nothing. 

But it turned out he was filled to the brim with tears. Painful, burning, healing tears. Tears of despair and exhaustion, of relief and renewed hope. Of peace and the blood paid before it. Of every emotion and feelings he had hid away from, all changing into sobs now that he let them free. 

Fox fell asleep like that. Safe and tired, surrounded by siblings that never stopped loving him, but simply waited for him, ready to catch him when he was finally ready to fall. 

[sh1-n0bu]

dark/grey skinned capitano save me,,,,, dark/grey skinned capitano,,,,,, if you hear us please save us dark/grey skinned capitano

[jay-wasstuff]

Not arguing with a man with big brown eyes, whatever you say beautiful 🥰

[zepuffer]

‪signs your cat trusts you

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins hcs

i'm absolutely in love with the idea of miles42 and miles1610 being twins, i'm so glad most of the fandom has basically adopted 42 lmao

some of my own twins headcanons, just random stuff to add onto other ppls hcs ive seen:

☆ 42 loves his mamí absolutely but def acts the most like his dad, and haaaates when anyone points it out. it's the most obvious when 42 gets mad, he sounds EXACTLY like his father then lol

☆ in fact, the twins polar opposite personalities is probs bc 1610 takes after his mom's temperament more, while 42 is as stoic, stubborn and slightly dorky as his dad is

☆ whenever the boys made each other cry (by accident or otherwise) they did the typical little kid thing and tried immediately comforting the other. now that they're older 1610 handles his emotions better and is mature when talking about them, but 42 is the one who comforts 1610 more often

more below ↓

☆ as well as staying on top of his academics, 42 also plays basketball and trains in a couple martial arts studios after school. 1610 is taller than 42 bc of the spider bite but 42 has always been slightly bigger and more muscular than 1610 since he's the athlete. whenever the family attends 42's boxing matches, jeff gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu from back when he attended his own brother's matches before

☆ they both got thru school p okay, not many incidents of bullying mostly bc if anyone did try, 42 would put a stop to that nonsense immediately. 42 loves his bro with his whole heart and was glad to pick a fight with anyone who gave him any trouble at all. the whole neighborhood knew it too bc the only person allowed to bully 1610 is 42 himself!

☆ in fact, 42 doesn't win the lottery to enter visions in the first place, which saddened both brothers when they found out. so because they're at separate schools now, 42 makes sure his twin knows that if any fuckery is afoot at visions that he'd be more than happy to roll up and dogwalk any fool who tries it. 1610 laughs him off but knows his bro has got his back for sure

☆ 42 likes to pretend 1610 is the nerdy one, but they are both very big anime and manga nerds. every time they hit up any bookstore, they both make a beeline for the manga section and argue over who's gonna read the newest one first (they have to share cuz those books cost some moneeyyyy, man)

☆ 1610 and 42 love their uncle to pieces, OFC. they both pick up separate traits from him, even. 42 was inspired to start martial arts and boxing from watching videos on old digital cameras that aaron hung onto thru the years. they were of a much younger aaron back in his boxing days, when his family went to his matches and recorded them from the seats. 1610 was inspired to pick up graffiti and then even started doodling in notebooks bc of aaron

☆ 1610 is def the social butterfly and easily the most popular kid on the block by virtue of how friendly and outgoing he is. 42 is more introverted and keeps a small circle of friends, but everyone is cool with him nonetheless since they fuck with his twin bro

☆ since 42 stays at home the most (lol he a homebody) he picks up cooking much better than 1610 thanks to him staying in the kitchen to help his mom make dinner while they watch telenovelas together. 42 also knows how to dance bachata and salsa much better than 1610 too

☆ both twins love physics and math but 42 is more hardware-inclined. 1610 is about software, data, and formulas. 42 is good at taking things apart, putting things together, building and engineering. he kinda takes after his uncle aaron that way, and drove his parents nuts as a lil kid when he got his hands on radios, computers, clocks, etc

☆ 1610 loves softer brighter music like JID, steve lacy, smino, frank ocean, kid cudi, post malone, and nujabes. 42 is always bumping harder shit like pop smoke, waka flocka, zillakami, three 6 mafia, benny the butcher and some oldies like paul wall, wu tang clan, biggie smalls, MF DOOM and big KRIT. they tease each other's music tastes a lot since they're polar opposites in almost every way

☆ they actually have a shared playlist where they add new music they like (probs on some e-1610 spotify or soundcloud equivalent since everything is slightly skewed on e-1610 tbh). both of them check it periodically, and 42 is the more frequent contributor

☆ they both make art but 1610 is the artsier kid for sure. 42 doodles occasionally but he's not as enthusiastic about it as his twin is. they both go around the city tagging walls whenever they have any free time, though. 1610 loves colors, expressive styles and is good at coming up with cool ways to draw text. 42's lines, accuracy and technical skill can never be beat

☆ 1610 has superpowers, sure, but his fighting skills are trash! 42 was always the scrappy one, not 1610, so he shows his twin how to properly throw punches and other useful fighting knowledge. it def comes in handy in the future

☆ jeff loves his sons to death but he often finds himself butting heads the most with 42 since they're so similar, it kinda drives them both nuts. it def gets worse once aaron starts gossiping abt what jeff used to be like when they were kids, giving 42 plenty of ammo. they love each other but their relationship is just as complicated as it is between jeff and 1610, and 42 would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the rift between his dad and uncle himself

☆ the minute the twins turn 16, 42 goes out and gets his drivers license on the first try (computer quiz AND road test aced) and rubs it in 1610's face almost constantly. 1610 likes to throw back that there's no parking space for another car on their block, so he can't even get his own car even if he wanted to anyways

☆ whenever the boys really fight, the whole city seems to know. they squabble a lot obvi, they're brothers. but the very few times they've given each other the silent treatment like for real, everyone in the family tries to get them to make up since it's unsettling to see two peas in a pod be so hostile with each other

☆ and since they've always been attached at the hip, 1610 being enrolled into visions felt. weird. everyone thought 1610 was gonna take it the hardest but surprisingly 42 had a harder time adjusting since he always saw his bro in the hallways at school, and was so used to him knowing the latest gossip of anybody in their grade. without 1610 around as often, 42 becomes even more withdrawn than usual

rio looks up from the pot suddenly, glancing at the time. dinner was almost ready and she… hadn't seen not hide nor tail of her son this evening. he returned home from school a couple hours earlier, choosing to skip going to his boxing class to shut himself in his room.

fine. teenagers can be moody sometimes and rio would rather keep her moody son at home where she can keep an eye on him, rather than worry about what he's getting up to on the streets.

strange thing is, though... rio hadn't heard a single noise come out of that room all night. 42 usually liked to have at least some music playing, maybe video game noises out of his nintendo... oh, what was it called again? whatever, that nintendo thing he played on sometimes.

rio placed the lid on the pot and lowered the flame a bit before making her way over to her twin sons' bedroom door, hesitating a bit when she noticed no light was filtering out from the bottom either. okay... that was weird, too. neither of her sons ever went to bed before dinner. ever.

the one time rio dared to try and send her sons to bed without dinner years ago-- as punishment for fighting right there in the kitchen that time-- both twins hollered so loud they got concerned knocks on their front door from various different neighbors. never again, rio remembered thinking that time.

now, the bedroom door stands oddly quiet and completely hollow without any signs of life behind it. rio knocked anyways, hoping against hope itself that 42 didn't go ahead and sneak out of the house without her knowledge. if he did sneak out, he's grounded for 3 months, rio thinks to herself mostly as reassurance. she nervously picks at a nail and strains to hear anything behind the wood.

she thinks she hears a groan and decides to try her luck by slowly opening the door. hopefully he's not in there... y'know, doing teenage boy things, either. dios mío.

rio swings the door open to...

...a completely pitch-black room, save for the sliver of streetlight filtering in past a crack in the window curtains and casting an eerie yellow glow on anything it could touch. it is cold, and also deathly quiet.

rio is shocked.

she walks over to the right side of the room where 42's bed is pushed up against the corner, next to the windows. on that bed lies a big lump, buried under several layers of blankets. the lump stirs.

rio crosses her arms. "mijo, mi amor. are you sleeping? …pero qué te pasa, papí?"¹

42 rolls onto his back and glares sleepily at his concerned mother standing at his bedside. it's dark in the room, but rio's face is illuminated by the living room lights pouring in from the open door. she's wearing a tilted smile, but coupled with the worry lines on her forehead, it isn't fooling anyone.

42 slowly closes his eyes, chin still under the covers, and lets out the most world-weary sigh rio has ever heard coming out of someone as young as him. if it weren't coming from her own son, she might have even laughed.

she immediately sits down, lifting the cover off of 42's chin to check his temperature all over his face. he tries to wriggle away.

"maaaaaa, stop..." he grumbles, trying to pull the covers up higher over his head. "'m not sick, mamí, forreal… chill."

rio leans on a hand. "¿si no 'ta enfermó pues qué es?² what's wrong?"

42 doesn't answer for a bit and rio exhales through her nose. " 'moré, what are you doing in this pitch-black room all by yourself? no light, no music, no nothing. what's wrong? you look like you're on a death bed!"

42 finally opens his eyes again, and blinks a few times as he says, "nothing, ma. seriously, i'm just... tired. that's all. i'm fine."

"you don't look 'fine' 42, you look like 2 seconds away from flatlining."

another sigh from the boy. rio rolls her eyes and places her hand on his forehead again, then strokes his cheek.

"is it 1610? hmm?" rio asks 42. she asks so unbelievably gently, as if by only mentioning his brother's name she would shatter something in the room. a mirror or something.

42's heart clenches at the love and care his mother is showing around this particular topic. it was true, and he couldn't even deny it. having 1610 in the house less and less every week, not seeing him in the hallways at their local high school, receiving sparser and shorter replies to his texts... it was all building up in his chest and the dam was pretty close to bursting. especially now as his mom was lovingly stroking his cheek as she checked in with him. how embarassing. rio wouldn't see him cry, not right now. he closed his eyes and willed the tears away, for her sake.

miraculously, 42's voice didn't crack or waver when he said, "yeah. yeah, i miss 'im."

rio crooned something saccharine in spanish and placed a kiss on her son's forehead. she saw right through his cold tough guy act, as expected. with how much of a mama's boy 42 was, it would've been impossible not to. they spent way too much time together for her to miss how he dragged his feet getting ready for school in the mornings, how he's been skipping martial arts and basketball practice more often lately, and how unenthusiastic he's been in general.

rio chuckles as she lays her cheek on 42's forehead for a second before sitting back up. "ay, bendito. 42, you know your brother is just down a few blocks from here. why don't you go visit him soon?"

42 shuffles under the covers. he's unsure if he should even admit this, but he proceeds anyways. "uhm. he's not answering my texts lately, so." he feels strangely guilty about this, like he just snitched on his twin somehow even though he has no reason to suspect that at all.

rio sighs and looks off into the distance, bracing herself for what she's about to say. she looks back down. "yeah. i know. he doesn't answer mine, either. i was hoping he was talking to you, but... well. "

something in 42 stirs a bit. "i bet he thinks he's in some fancy private school, around rich kids, now he's too good for us," it's a weak attempt at a joke, but rio smiles down at him anyways.

"don't worry. the second he gets home this weekend, he's on house arrest. okay? he's gonna be chained to you the whoooole time. and i'm keepin' watch."

it's not much, but 42 still takes that little bit of hope and holds it gently in his mind.

"the second he walks through that door, i'm tackling him. i don't care." 42 smiles at the thought.

rio laughs, kisses his forehead again and stands up. "dinner is almost ready, by the way." she gives him a look. "you better eat with me tonight, because your brother is at school and your dad is doing overtime tonight. okay? okay."

42 sighs deeply to wake himself up a bit more as he sits up and scratches at his durag. "yeah, yeah. 'm comin', ma!"

¹ "but what is going on with you, papí?" (papí being a common term of affection for a boy in spanish, it doesn't always mean "dad" lol)

² "if you're not sick, then what is it?"

☆ until they get "too old" for halloween, the morales twins ALWAYS wear matching costumes. every year. every single year, no matter what. what they usually end up wearing changes every year and they aaaaaalways argue over it, of course. notable costumes so far: batman and superman (age 13), two ninja turtles (age 9) (im thinking mikey and donatello bc of personality but lbr rio most likely forbade either of them to be leonardo bc the twins would deadass get into a fist fight over it), tom and jerry (age 2), mario and luigi (age 7), woody and buzz (age 5), peter pan and captain hook (age 10), and-- rio's favorite-- thing 1 and thing 2 (age 4)

☆ 42 was surprisingly always very popular with the girls at school. in middle school, 1610 was the geeky one with braces and acne. 42 got off relatively easy in that regard and as a result was labeled "a heartbreaker" from the jump, which annoyed him. he has no interest in dating whatsoever and swore to never get into a relationship before graduating high school. he's got his mom and brother to take care of and he's going places after high school, damnit! 1610 on the other hand is a huge romantic and has a crush on a new person almost every year of school, easily

☆ the literal second 1610 set foot in the house after his spider bite, 42 was all over him asking a million questions since they both have that supernatural twintuition, and 42 sussed him out immediately. 1610 obviously had to come clean and tell his brother he was spiderman just like he told ganke, otherwise he was never gonna be able to change into his spider suit at home (plus they share a room, so. there's that)

1610 didn't even get to close their bedroom door all the way before his twin leaped up from his own bed and stalked over.

"óye, bro. what's up? what happened at visions?" 42 circled his brother, squinty-eyed in the exact same way their mom is when she's suspicious. 1610 dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on his sheets, trying to put some distance between them.

"uhhhh what're you talkin' about?" he tries casually, and immediately regrets it.

"uhhhhh what're you talkin' about?" 42 mocks. "don't play dumb with me. you KNOW what i'm talkin' about, stupid. first, you answer, like, none of my texts ever. then dad comes home sayin' you never let him talk face-to-face when he visited you a couple days ago. mamí has been texting and calling you nonstop, no answer either. you are a brand new person now, huh? qué te pasa, yo?"

1610 hunched his shoulders as he got up and slumped over to his desk. he was quietly weighing his options, nervously rearranging papers and sketches on the wooden table, wondering how he was going to break it to his brother that he was--

"lemme guess. you have superpowers now," 42 says easily. he crosses his arms triumphantly when big round amber eyes suddenly turn up to his face.

1610 searches his face for any hint of a joke. no... no way. did his brother just...?

"you're playin' with me. no way. how did you--?"

42's eyes widen. "wait, are you being deadass right now?" he threw his head back and crowed with laughter. "that was just a guess!"

1610 leaped forward and pushed his hand onto 42's mouth, shutting him up. "heeyyy hey hey hey hey shhhhh, man. damn, could you possibly be any louder? look," he took his twin by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "mom and dad can never know anything about this. okay? anything. not a word, you understand?"

42 pushes his brother off. "ok-ay man, cool it. i promise. we can shake on it, even."

wordlessly, they did their super secret handshake they came up with and perfected in the 4th grade in lieu of hooking their pinkies together. it was the morales shake, a move that binds them to secrecy and keeping promises til death. this was serious business. 1610 relaxes a bit once they're done.

"... okay. and i mean it, pencil braids. if you even breathe a word about this, or even think about--!"

"if you don't just tell me already, goddamn."

with a meaningful look thrown at his brother's way, 1610 raises an arm silently. 42 looks back expectantly.

1610 shoots a web up. he jumps up, using the web as a bungee rope to help him flip and land feet-first onto the ceiling. once his sneakers touch their ceiling, he stands up... upside-down. he stares at his brother and his brother stares back, mouth agape.

"niiiiiiice," 42 leans back and grins up at his twin brother, spiderman.

☆ 1610 is glad he has someone besides ganke to talk to about spiderman stuff, though. his brother listens way more attentively than his roommate anyways, and even tries to help sometimes esp when 1610 needs a quick distraction so he can switch from spiderman back into his regular clothes before the parents notice

☆ 42 is surprisingly cool abt his twin bro being spiderman, actually. even when they're texting 42 is careful not to imply 1610 is spiderman, and often calls stuff in to the police station if 1610 webs anyone up and lets him know. he also gets very good at bandaging up wounds quickly

☆ 42 is a hardass on the outside and contains his emotions much better than his twin, but he's kinda different around his family, since he loves them a lot. he jokes around a lot with them, esp around 1610. they also love pranking their parents, and are p creative at coming up with ways to make everyone laugh

☆ i personally picture 42's personality being sort of like huey's from the boondocks, especially around other adults. he becomes withdrawn and speaks very clearly and directly, and is very shy around strangers. some ppl mistake that as him having an attitude problem but his friends and family know better. only difference between huey and 42 is that 42 isn't nearly as woke lmfao

☆ meanwhile, 1610 becomes a motormouth around strangers and is quick to hug and kiss random family members at family reunions. as a lil kid, he'd always be the one up at the counter ordering for the both of them and chatting with the cashiers, or bus drivers, or whoever. as he gets older and used to the spiderman thing, he chats and jokes with randoms a lil less. he has to save the good material for when the mask is on

☆ 42 is a better writer than he is an artist, actually. he has notebooks filled with poetry and lyrics he scribbles down on post-it notes just to stick them in there for safekeeping. he's also been working on a sci-fi story since he was in 6th grade in absolute secrecy; he doesn't want a single soul to see it. he'd be mortified if anyone saw the nerdy shit he comes up with

☆ even tho 1610 has never fought anyone or been scrappy with anyone else, he's very good at wrestling and dodging punches thanks to his brother.

☆ 42 is the more fashion-inclined twin, even tho they're both sneakerheads. 42 just pays more attention to accessories, the fit of his clothing, how to pair the right shoes with the right jacket. 1610 throws on anything comfortable and calls it a day, and it gets even worse after he becomes spiderman. 42 clowns his brother SO HARD after he finds him wearing yellow sweatpants with an oversized red adidas hoodie and a green puffer jacket once (it was when 1610 came home from fighting a shapeshifting lizard that tried to take over cypress hills. the sweatpants were on backwards)

☆ 1610's sense of humor is geeky and he always tries too hard with his quips and jokes. he usually gets "secondhand embarrassment" chuckles from ppl. 42's style of comedy is a mix of dry humor and unintentionally being funny. this dude will say something clever with the straightest face ever and have the ENTIRE room in stitches without even meaning to

☆ just to nail home how different they are, even tho they share a room, you can tell EXACTLY which half of their room begins and ends. 1610's half is cluttered, vibrant, covered in posters and action figures, collages and trinkets on every available surface. 42's is as clean as a hospital room, and he ALWAYS makes his bed every morning. 42 has a poster or 2 hung up but he's not much for decorating in general. he's more into alphabetizing his bookshelf and looking for more efficient storage to put under his bed

☆ when jeff looks at his sons, he sees aaron and himself and sometimes it scares him. when the boys were around 12 (the Evil Year) he made SURE to sign them up for camp trips that summer and keep them close together as much as possible. he hates to see his boys drift apart at all and is the 1st one to call it out if he sees it. he just doesn't want his boys to end up like he and his brother did…

☆ … and then other times? it genuinely makes him feel a combination of irritation and also fondness bc sometimes 1610 and 42 really really remind him of aaron and himself, esp when they were young. ESPECIALLY when they argue. in every playful slap on the shoulder, every arbitrary competition started out of nowhere, every sleepy brother slowly sliding onto the other's shoulder during nighttime car rides, he sees it. he sees them, and then he sees his past. and with every little difference between the boys slowly cracking open like a chasm with each passing day, sometimes he thinks he can even see his future.

☆ 42 is cool or whatever but i also hc he's kinda… weird sometimes. it gets worse when his twin bro goes off to visions, he keeps staring at walls while sitting in dark rooms and eating at weird hours of the day. rio caught him fast asleep practically hanging off the window sill one night, and another time jeff found him having an entire conversation with a brick wall once while on patrol. 42 refuses to answer any questions

☆ after 1610 gets into visions, becomes spiderman, tells his parents abt his plans to go to princeton, etc... 42 eventually starts feeling a type of way (a jealous way…) their parents also seem to pay attention to 1610 more whenever he's home just to add insult to injury. he knows he's not supposed to, but he often finds himself thinking about the prowler gloves and schematics aaron left behind. he managed to grab them and hide them in a gym bag one day while helping his parents clear out aaron's apartment. the tech currently lives under his bed…

[polarisbibliotheque]

Staying alive - Dante and his s/o

It works, you can't tell me otherwise!

Devil May Dance - Stayin' Alive, by Bee Gees

Pairing: Dante x Reader

Summary: Oh, hellish imps. One of your least favorite demons. It doesn't help that they managed to chain you to a chair at the local Disco - luckily, Dante will surely be there to save the day. And to dance.

Author's Note: I friggin' love this song, thanks so much anon for throwing this with Dante here, it works like a charm!! I almost screamed when I saw it xD My mom is a HUGE Bee Gees fan, so I listen to their songs all the time since I was born hahahaha

I've been writing this one since you guys sent me the songs, but as I mentioned before, my health got in the way as always. I'm managing my energy and a bunch of personal issues that appeared the last couple of months, so I decided to finish this one and focus on the Halloween specials of this year! Fret not, though. I'm keeping all your suggestions and I'll write them - it's just gonna take longer than I expected "^^ Also, there's a throwback here to a very special Devil May Dance, hope you guys like it!

Well, out of all the situations you could have found yourself in, that would be your most unexpected one.

It was a stupid mistake, really. A step in a wrong place, a weaker grip on your sword, a miscalculated attack from an enemy. When you least expected, there you were, caught by a bunch of hellish imps, tied to a chair on the local Disco in town, of all places.

With the imps, well, imping around as all those annoying little creatures used to do.

They were one of your least favorite types of demons, that you had to be honest with yourself.

“You know, if you keep doing that, you’re gonna end up breaking it, stupid little thing.” You said with a sigh, head boringly held by one of your hands.

“Says the big bad devil hunter tied to a chair!” The imp taunted back, still smacking the amplifier. You could kick it into oblivion and make it fly to the next country without a plane, but with those chains you were really useless. You sighed again.

“That’s an amp, you buffoon. Its purpose is to amplify sound, if you want something to happen, you have to put some music on, jerk.” Yes, Vergil’s vocabulary got to you – then again, the best way to describe those demons was ‘buffoon’. Vergil’s colorful vocabulary did have a purpose.

“Blah blah blah – talking too much for someone in your situation!” The room exploded in a bunch of high-pitched devilish laughs and you could only roll your eyes.

“Honestly, I hope that thing breaks and electrifies you. That will serve you as a lesson, you moron.”

As if words had power, the thing immediately broke on the hellish imp hands and sent a wave of electrifying shock through its body – making it shake viciously and drop the thing immediately as it fell to the ground with the tongue sticking out of the mouth and mumbling something while unconscious. The other imps stared at you as you smiled with pride – as if you had actually done something.

“Told ya.” You perked on your chair, looking as proud as you could in that situation. Your weapons were tossed on the other side of the room – and you had already gone through the suffering of watching those buffoons playing around with your stuff until they got bored. “Keep messing around and you’ll all end up dead by stupidity.”

Suddenly, a very well-known bass line started playing – followed by a guitar, a set of lights dancing around the club and the colorful squares on the ground starting their own choreography. You raised one eyebrow, trying to understand what was going on and, really, why the Disco started functioning all of a sudden.

“WOOOHOOOOOO!!!!” Until you saw an imp at the sound booth, messing with a bunch of wires, spinning on one of the office chairs – that definitely didn’t belong to the DJ.

Well you can tell by the way I use my walk I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk Music loud and women warm, I’ve been kicked around Since I was born

Well, well, there it was. Stayin’ Alive. Quite fitting, if you had to say, given your situation. Quite ironic too – and if Destiny really was a humanoid entity, you wanted to have a serious talk to it, because why in all hells it had to be joking around with you that much?

“And now it’s alright, it’s ok, and you may look the other way…” You started muttering the lyrics, lightly tapping your foot on the colorful ground. If that song didn’t remind you of your red devil, you didn’t know what would.

Smiling to yourself, you forgot the imps for a while. You could almost see Dante at the Devil May Cry, barefoot on a lazy Saturday, dancing around the floor of the shop while you giggled at his huge desk. He had some great moves and was definitely showing off now that he had someone to dance to – you were reading, comfortably settled on his big chair, until the jukebox started playing Bee Gees and Dante couldn’t stop himself from dancing.

You didn’t last long with your book though: your red devil grabbed your hands, leading you to the center of the shop; your very own dance floor. You never really talked much about that with Dante, but you were quite certain he didn’t have many opportunities to go out dancing and have fun – even if he was the most fun-loving guy you had ever met in your life. He was a Sparda, after all, and you knew how much Dante avoided being around people so he wouldn’t put them in any sort of danger. You could almost see him dancing alone at the Devil May Cry for so many years – probably watching Saturday Night Fever on that sorry old television of his, copying Travolta’s moves and learning it all only to have fun… By himself. But now, he had a partner to share that with – and you could see in the brightness of his smile how much Dante enjoyed it.

Both of you waited a whole lifetime to start enjoying the things you had dreamed about for so long.

You snapped out of your golden memories, though, when you heard a shot and a loud sound of something falling on the ground. Furrowing your brows, you looked to the other side of the room and, lo and behold, those hellish pestering things were messing with your stuff again while prancing around to the sound of disco music.

That was something you never thought you would see in your life.

“Oi, put that down! You’ll end up breaking it!” You pointed at the imps joking around with your guns, but they only made funny faces and flipped you back as a response. You just stared at them with contempt in your face, having almost no expression but a very annoyed one. “I swear, I’m gonna hang you all by your feet when I get rid of these shackles, you fucking clowns.”

Among the laughs and the music, though, another shot rang outside the club. No one really cared about it, until the door burst open because the imps outside were yeeted in – flying through the dance floor while screaming, stamping the wall of the stage right across the club and leaving a trail of blood on it as it fell dead to the floor.

Looking at the door, you couldn’t help but shake your head and smile. Bathed in the dancing lights of the Disco, Dante strutted in – sword resting on his shoulders, arms open while his free hand held one of his guns.

“Ey, you guys started the party without me?” He stopped after taking a few steps in, illuminated by the twinkling lights on the floor and the ceiling – that cocky smile plastered on his lips.

Oh, you loved that man. So much. How couldn’t you?

“Wouldn’t call this a party when I can’t dance.” You showed him your foot chained to the chair – and you could see in those sky-blue eyes, a sort of compassion mixed with love and a little bit of pity; crowned by his endeared but still convinced smile.

“No worries, babe, your man’s here to help you.” With a wink, Dante skillfully glided through the dance floor, shooting some imps on the way. They tried to block the man, but he swept the floor with the demons with a swift move from his sword, back to his shoulder with a flowy movement. “Got the wings of Heaven on my shoes, I’m a dancin’ man and I just can’t lose!”

You had to laugh at how happy Dante looked while gliding his feet on the colorful squares on the ground, spinning around to hit a couple more imps who tried to get to him. Facing you, Dante winked one more time, now keeping his sword on place and dual wielding Ebony and Ivory.

One step to the right, a shot at a flying imp. One step to the left, a shot at another devil who tried to run towards him. Keeping the groove, Dante spun again doing his old trick of shooting around the club and hitting multiple enemies at once – you ducked and covered your head, still laughing at his antics. Spinning his guns in his hands, Dante coordinated his steps, the beat of the song and the shots being fired.

Ah – shot – ah – shot – ah – shot – ah – shot – stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive – and a little pause for a choreography as he faced you, as if Dante was putting on a show for you only.

“Woohoo, get ‘em, cowboy!” You had to. Dante usually had fun while fighting, but not like he was having today – it’s not like it was a difficult or life-threatening fight, so he could afford being a lot more playful and goofy.

And you had to love goofy Dante.

A couple more shots, and the imps surrounding him were all but stunned, laying on the floor while recovering for the next round. So, Dante did what he did best.

“Stayin’ aliiiiiiiiiiiiiveeeeeeee…” Singing out loud, shaking his hips, and pointing around only to finish the phrase pointing at you.

And of course, he had to be even more over the top. As the demons got up from the floor – helping each other, fighting each other, trying to stand and walk a straight line – Dante started to walk towards you in the rhythm of the song, shaking his hips with every step only to accentuate even more every beat, as if he was a cowboy who had just laced you and now was approaching his bounty.

“Pffffft, you’re ridiculously campy, cowboy…” You couldn’t help but slightly flush, hiding your face on the hand you previously leaned on while completely bored. Well, you couldn’t say you were bored anymore.

“Guilty of all charges, sheriff!” As he approached, one imp tried to get him from behind only to be kicked on the face and thrown into oblivion by Dante’s strength in the process – those sky-blue eyes never left you, though, as well as the playful smile on his lips. “You can arrest me and throw away the key!”

“Hmmm, I might keep these chains then. Maybe I can tie you to our bed when we get home.” You had to tease him back, or it wouldn’t be you and Dante. You saw a sparkle of both fun and desire inside his eyes, as Dante let out a delighted laugh – and kicked another demon on the face.

“Ha! Now that…!” And he had to let the choreography down for a couple of seconds to turn around and shot a few more demons – spinning his dual guns in his hands before doing so, and once more to put them back into their place – but quickly turning back to you; resting one of his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down so his eyes would be leveled to yours. “Is somethin’ I’d love to try, sheriff. You can tie me up and love me any day, sugar.”

You would’ve quipped back if Dante hadn’t used his free hand to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a quite loving kiss – given the situation you found yourselves into. The demons were still trying to get back in shape, now that some of them had run away and some others were still insisting on keeping the Disco to themselves, but with Dante around… You didn’t have to care about demons that much.

“First, let’s cut you lose, shall we?” He still had that playful tone in his voice as he let go of your lips, but as Dante kneeled on the floor to see the shackles, his eyes turned to you with nothing but care in them. “Be careful, Imma cut it down, ok?”

You nodded with certainty and kept your feet together, straining the chains as much as you could so Dante could easily cut it with his sword and not fear hurting you in the process.

“And… You’re set free, babe.” Of course, he had to use that sultry tone he always did whenever he decided to use Lucifer or Faust while sparring with you.

And you would’ve paid more attention to that, if it wasn’t for your sheer and rather intense joy of being cut from those chains.

“Ah, freedom, at last!” You got up in a jump, making him laugh with how happy you were. “Now! Who’s the first one I’m gonna hang from the ceiling, huh?!” You had your hands on your hips, staring at the imps with such a deranged fire some of them actually screamed in terror and tumbled away, flying for their lives through the smashed door.

“Will ya look at that!” Dante clapped while laughing, watching as only a few demons remained to try to stand their ground. “I’ve never seen you scaring so many demons at once!”

“See? I’m learning!” You proudly strutted towards your gear on the other side of the room, mirroring the little show Dante put on for you before. He just stood there, hands on his hips, gladly watching you dance. “Gotta thank Vergil for being such a great example!”

“Oh, bet he’s gonna love hearing that!” With a laugh, Dante punched an imp who tried to get him by surprise – now flying away to hit another couple of demons who inadvertently tried to follow. “But hey, keep on shakin’ those hips like that, hot stuff, I might have to one up ya.”

You let out a mischievous giggle in response, now feeling even more motivated to let yourself loose on the dance floor. While checking your guns – making sure they were in one piece, all bullets where they should be, no damages – you kept moving to the rhythm, singing the lyrics you knew so well.

Dante crossed his arms, gladly watching the show you were putting on – now casually hooking your guns to your holsters and moving to check on your sword. The imps gathered together, blabbering around like screeching minions, preparing a supposedly devastating attack with all their forces combined to bring both of you down – but Dante couldn’t care less. He had a delighted smile on his lips, arms still crossed and tapping one of his feet on the floor to the beat of the song, barely holding himself still.

He guessed his lifetime of bad luck was to compensate for the one moment in his life where you appeared – out of nowhere, in the middle of a job, covered in demon blood and spite. That was the luckiest Dante had ever been and he could see that happening as all the luck he never really had.

Who could’ve guessed that after all that hell that he called his existence you out of all people would find him – and see him? Someone with a heart of gold, a soul of steel, a spirit like fire and kindness like water; who would challenge him but also complement him in all the perfect ways Dante could have never imagined.

Watching you dancing while strapping your sword on your back like he always did, turning around to wink at him and shake your hips from side to side to the beat of the song, raising your arms above your head and closing your eyes while smiling… You were better than any dream. You were his partner, his sheriff, his lover. He only wished he could’ve had an entire lifetime with you in it.

“Hoo, is it me or it’s gettin’ hotter in here, babe…?” With those words from his lips, you opened your eyes once more, trying to read what he was about to do when Dante took his sword from its holster and left it on a table.

“Dante…!” You immediately widened your eyes as he started stripping off his coat while making the most obnoxious and campy stripping dance you could have ever seen.

“What…?” Of course, being the man he was, Dante feigned innocence. You just pointed back at him – blushing like the first layers of Hell, but with a radiant smile on your lips. Honestly, he lived just to see that sight every time you decided to grace him with it. Dante would never tire to see you smile so genuinely.

“There are hellish imps here, red devil. Have some decorum.” Again. Vergil’s vocabulary had its purpose – and when it came to his twin brother, you had to admit colorful words were the best you could do to try to voice some of your exasperated feelings.

“Oh, you thinkin’ I’m gonna take it all off?” Dante pointed at himself with his free hand, his coat hanging on the other hand. He let out a hearty laugh right after. “Ha! You are gonna have to work for that, sheriff!”

You had to fall into a fit of laughter as Dante started spinning his coat on the air only to throw it away dramatically, going back to his best Saturday Night Fever dance. You didn’t know if you wanted to melt through the floor into oblivion from embarrassment or if you wanted to get into the challenge. Therefore, laughing was the only choice available, really.

You had to note, though, that the embarrassment only came from having an audience – you could still hear the imps arguing and wondered if they would end up killing each other in disagreement – because if you were both alone at the Devil May Cry… Dante would have the dance-off of a lifetime after that taunt.

“Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother, you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” You decided, even if feeling a little awkward, to mirror Dante’s dancing – pointing at him while singing, finally strutting towards your red devil.

You had your whole life to kill demons – dancing with your lover, though, was a lot more important in your book.

“Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’, and we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” Dante pointed back at you, ready to meet you in the middle. Those lyrics, though, they were quite fitting to both of you – with everything you had to go through on a daily basis, somehow, you always remained alive. Together.

There was some kind of poetry in that. At least in Dante’s point of view.

As the famous riff sang its lyrics, you finally reached each other, starting a perfectly synchronized choreography you both invented during a boring afternoon at the shop – which ended up being not so boring after all. With you dancing while perfectly mirroring him, Dante couldn’t help but have the brightest and most delighted smile on his lips – his face lighting up like the sun, barely noticing he was laughing from enjoying that moment.

The most mirroring he ever got was from a shadow doppelganger at the Temen-ni-gru – and that thing was hell bent on killing him with his own powers and tricks. Now dancing? That was a first. Something he had only seen on movies like Footloose or Grease, something he thought he would only have in the realm of daydreams. Oh, how he loved turning those into reality with you.

“Ready…” Of course, you both were very much aware you weren’t alone - the imps weren't as subtle as they thought they were. Your lives were made mostly of stolen moments like that, but it was something you would never complain about. Better to have those moments than to have nothing at all – and the imps were about to steal it away from you. Looking into those sky-blue eyes, you saw Dante’s typical spark and his smart smile on his lips, winking at you as soon as he understood what your eyes were saying. “NOW! ATTACK!”

“I’m stayin’ alive!” You and Dante sang out loud – if you could call that kind of shouting singing – as you spun on the colorful floor, taking one of your guns from your holsters. You ended up with your backs to each other, your arm by his arm, pointing the guns at the demons at the same time. “Let’s rock!”

The imps expected everything but the rain of bullets. They planned a massive attack, all of them at the same time, and still you and Dante made their forces seem like nothing but a wave of hungry mosquitoes during summer – and that because you were each holding only one of your guns.

They could barely get near you before realizing they wouldn’t be able to make it in one piece. The attack was a failure and the best option they had – for those left alive anyway – was to run. You and Dante kept shooting, hitting bullseye with every quick shot. They first screamed as a battle roar, but now they screeched in terror, fleeing from every broken door and window of the Disco – until there were only you and the red devil left.

“Well, guess we showed ‘em a lesson.” You sighed, relief washing down your spine while you put your gun back into its holster. Dante did the same, but you barely waited for him to look back to you. “Thanks for the rescue, cowboy. It was worthy of Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For a Hero.”

“Ah, don’t mention it…” But you cut his dismissive words short with a kiss.

It was intended to be a quick kiss – the types of kisses you would always use to shut him up whenever Dante started self-deprecating or playing down how much he was worth – but soon you wanted more. Stepping closer to him, you didn’t let his lips go, resting your hands on his chest while Dante, even if surprised at first, immediately laid his on your hips. The song was still going, and you both still had the fire to keep dancing, but you could take a few moments to enjoy that kiss with more heart than you intended at first.

You had every intention, though, to keep it going for as long as you could – Dante’s lips were too wonderful to be half-appreciated – but as Stayin’ Alive found its last chords, another song seamlessly started to let its golden beats and delightful guitar color the place with new rhythms and notes. Apparently, the DJ imp had figured out how to keep the whole collection of disco songs playing – and you couldn’t complain about that.

“Hey…” You parted the kiss abruptly, mirroring Dante’s smile from also recognizing the song. “It’s our song, cowboy!”

You held Dante’s hand, pulling him even further into the dance floor, while he let his head hang back with a laugh at the words he never thought he would hear in that damned life of his. Stepping closer to you, he spun you around only to catch you in his arms, dancing together the same way you used to dance at the Devil May Cry – you both giggling and singing to each other.

“Do you remember? The 21st night of September?” Oh, yes. September. The song that wrapped you both in golden dreams and shiny days – the song Dante would always run to you to have you in his arms while singing, the one you would always search his hands to hold while dancing. The one Dante never thought he would be able to have with someone else.

Dante couldn’t have another entire lifetime with you, but he could have that one – and even better than that: you could have that song together. Your song.

He could get used to the sound of that alright.

[youngyoo-apologist]

When it comes to OG!Cale ships I like both OG!AlCale and OG!ChoiHan but it really depends on the scenario

For example, I like OG!AlCale in both regression aus and TBoaH adjacent timeline things because I think a huge thing I like in their dynamic is how mysterious they both are to the other party. The fun of their dynamic is them discovering more about each other and the various miscommunications they have cause of their own personalities, and I think that works very well no matter the universe.

But with OG!ChoiCale, I feel like I can really only enjoy it in TBoaH adjacent things or if they both have the memories of the first life.

To me, a big thing about OG!ChoiCale is about the life they lived together, how they hated eachother, how they both didn’t know eachother for years, how they could have spent time together during the war due to unfortunate circumstances(there not being enough people left)

Like, I think OG!ChoiCale can be such a cool dynamic, such a sad, but comforting one at the same time. It’s a little bitter how the man you thought you would hate forever became a close companion, how he’s more similar to you than your younger self woild have ever thought, but do you really hate it?

Can you really hate having a person who understands you, when so many people have died? When so many are gone?

Something about the sadness of it all, how it was tragedy that brought them against each other at first, but now it brings them together. How they could only ever grow to understand eachother because of the pain they face, the pain that they shared. At some point, can you really hate him, even until the end? After all those years? After coming to understand him? No, you cannot.

Like, it adds in extra layers when they both care about each other at some point mid-way through the war, but they still can’t really talk to eachother properly. They care, but they frustrate one another, anger each other. Choi Han doing increasingly more risky and self sacrificial things because ‘I’m a hero’ ‘I have to do it.’ ‘It is justice to save people’, despite the fact that it’s at the expense of himself

And Cale’s frustration at Choi Han’s attitude. He can never wrap his head around the fact that Choi Han destroys himself for the sake of other people, and believes it’s heroic(He knows Choi Han doesnt, he know Choi Han hates it too, but he doesn’t know what else to say to himself other than the fact that ‘it’s for the greater good’, because he will go crazy if he doesn’t)

He’s mad, but there’s some twisted sense of understanding in there too. Cale understands, because he became trash for his family, he became trash to protect them, he had to do it.

But that’s only what he thought.

He was older now, he had lost them all, and he had seen how his trash act hadn’t done anything to protect them. It only distanced him from them, and now they were gone, and he could never see them again, he could never make amends.

Cale is mad at Choi Han for sacrificing himself because while Choi Han is hurting himself, the people who he loves, and the people who love him, watch him do it over and over again and he doesn’t listen to their worried cries.

He’s mad, but he understands. It was frustrating to be on the other side, watching someone destroy themselves for the sake of others when the people who cared about them wanted the exact opposite. The only difference between him and Choi Han was that Choi Han was never a good liar, he could never hide how much pain he went through.

In a way, Cale thought it was better that way.

At some point, there is love that is there. Love that follows them, and it’s so painful because they both know the tragedy edy to it that is how they are doomed, how they can never be happy in the first time line where they knew each other.

Because as Cale and Choi Han, they can’t be happy. Not when so much has been lost, not when the world is falling apart, they may love each other, but loving each other as they are means being in a world where everything else they love is gone.

It is a cruel kind of love.

Like let’s say they do pursue these feelings, even though knowing those two I don’t think they’d ever say anything in that scenario. If they did it would probably be Cale going like:

“Choi Han, do you love me?”

Choi Han doesn’t say anything, but his silence in place of adamant refusal is enough of an answer.

“Do you love me, Cale?”

Cale doesn’t say anything either, only smiling at Choi Han with his signature, cynical and bitter smile.

He didn’t deny it either.

It was a confirmation of feelings, but unlike the confessions from romance novels and stories, the main character and lead do not end up together and live happily ever after.

They stay together, but the world around them is not happy, not at all. They are together, but not as partners or as lovers, but two people who live in their suffering because all they can do is live.

I feel like anything they do together would always have an air of melancholy to it. Maybe they kiss, once, and no more, because there is no point in making it a regular thing. Not when everything in their world will end, even if they keep on fighting for it to not be that way.

They kiss, and it’s short, but in that short moment, the world is nothing but Cale and Choi Han.

Isn’t that selfish? If it’s like this, then they could ignore how everything has gone so badly. But that is exactly why they cannot be together, there is no ignoring the reality of their situation, no matter how sweet it would be to live in a false dream and never wake up.

I like my OG!ChoiCale a little doomed.

[notiddygxthgf]

3. Obsessed

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Aki, you smooth bastard. ❞

★ c.w.: nothing :) (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: accidentally posted chap 4 before chap 3 oopsies!! omg so like this one lowkey seems like filler but I PROMISE ITS NECESSARY. im building the tension. i hope you all like obsessive aki as much as i love him. teehee. like comment and talk to me! id love to hear ur thoughts x

★ w.c.;3.2k

shameless ; chapter index

YOU HELD YOUR PHONE TO YOUR EAR later in the evening, listening to your husband talk about his day. His voice was a comforting, familiar anchor, but tonight, it struggled to pull you from the storm raging in your mind the way it usually did.

"And then I told them they couldn't just ignore the data. They finally agreed to reassess the project," he was saying, his tone tinged with satisfaction. "That's how my day was."

"That's great," you replied absentmindedly, your fingers hovering over your phone's keyboard.

As he continued speaking, you opened a new message thread. The name "Aki Hayakawa" stared back at you, the cursor blinking in anticipation. You started typing slowly, uncertainly:

Aki, I'm sorry for running out on you like that. It wasn't |

You paused, backspaced, and tried again:

Captain Hayakawa, I apologize for how I acted tonight. It was unprofessional. |

No, that was too formal. You sighed, deleting the message once more.

"Are you still there?" your husband asked, snapping you out of your reverie.

"Yeah, I'm here," you said quickly. "Just... distracted. Sorry."

"What are you up to?" he asked, his tone lightening. "You sound busy."

"I'm just sending a text to my friend, Himeno," you lied smoothly, hoping the guilt didn't seep into your voice.

"You're so sweet," he said warmly. "Always thinking of others."

Always thinking of other men, apparently, you mean? 

You forced a smile, even though he couldn't see it. "Yeah, I guess so."

Your thumb hovered over the screen again. This time, you typed:

Can we talk?

You hesitated for a moment, then pressed delete before you could change your mind. You had done enough damage tonight. The best thing you could do was just ignore him for the remainder of your stay in Tokyo. It would be over before you knew it.

"Anyway," your husband continued, oblivious to your internal struggle (as he typically was), "So my coworker came up to me and asked if I would go out for drinks with him tonight."

"Sounds great," you said automatically, your mind still on the message you had just deleted. You glanced out the window at the city rushing by – the midnight was blue, almost as blue as his eyes.

You hoped that, somehow, everything would make sense in the morning.

.

Your first informal mission took place at the art museum. There had been complaints of Devil-sightings there. It wasn't anything particularly alarming or dangerous, but you had been sent to check it out (and kill it).

With nothing but the quiet sound of your shoes clicking against the old wooden floorboards to accompany you, you made your rounds through the second floor. Your Public Safety uniform pulled very few strange looks here where everybody else was also done up in black-tie attire. There was an art showing tonight.

You put an 'x' over the words "Second floor". No Art-devil spotted there. Two more to go.

Stopping in front of a small painting, you took a moment to admire the artistry. You didn't mind doing the scut work while Makima was understaffed – more gruesome positions existed, surely. This was most certainly not the worst way you could think to spend your first day back on the job.

The painting was a masterful symphony of oil paints – shades of pink and green and blue forming the prettiest little petals. It depicted a serene field of wildflowers and nothing else. A singular tree near the right side of the painting, a clear blue sky on the top of it.

One day I'll buy a painting like that, you thought to yourself. Not that it had much of a place in your stale, modern-style home in the Japanese countryside. You always wanted a house with color – one with wooden seats and tables and wallpaper and a happy family – even if it aged poorly. There was something homely about flowers and colors. Something that the black-white-and-grey color scheme of your contemporary home lacked.

It was such a shame, too. You told your husband about these wishes long before you married him and, yet, he insisted upon having a home that would look "sleek" and "modern". Had it not been for his vision of what your home should look like, you would have taken the painting home with you.

Briefly, the image of a small, gold-framed painting of a flower field hung up in your cold, cool-toned dining room crossed your mind. It wouldn't work.

Then again, perhaps the painting could serve as a metaphor for your feelings?

You looked away from it, and went back to scanning the room for any sight of a Devil. You didn't find one.

What you did find, however, was the one person you didn't want to see today. A certain young captain stood with his arms crossed behind his back, inspecting a larger painting only a few yards away from you.

Then, as if the situation couldn't get any worse, he turned to look at you.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

You ducked over, shielding your face from his gaze. It was too late, though – you heard his telltale footsteps coming your way and you knew he'd sniffed you out.

His voice was a sickening croon behind you, "Enjoying the show?"

Okay. It would appear that neither of you wanted to address the elephant in the room (being last night, that is).

You couldn't stop the little flutter your heart did when it heard his voice.

"Yes, thank you," You snapped back a little quicker than you anticipated. "The paintings are beautiful."

"They are, aren't they?" He reiterated. Something told you he wasn't only speaking about the paintings. "You like that one?"

"I do," You answered. This whole conversation was just a whole lot more awkward than you could bear today. "It's peaceful, I think. Pretty."

You shouldn't be talking to him. You really shouldn't be talking to him – not after whatever the fuck had happened between the two of you at the party.

To your surprise, Aki didn't toy with you any longer than that. He walked away – you had only heard him leave, after all, as you hadn't made any effort to look him in the eye. How could you? You had seen that face of his far too many times in your dreams.

"Keep up the good work," He said over his shoulder.

You turned to look only when you were certain he was a respectable distance away from you. Then, looking at the back of his Public Safety suit jacket, you thought, How bizarre.

.

You were making your rounds at the grocery store two days later, grabbing some last minute food and snacks because you truly hadn't anticipated your stay to be so long. A small slip of paper clutched in one hand and a pen in the other, you crossed "bread" off the list.

"Okay," You muttered to yourself, glancing around for your next stop. "Pads, produce, chips," Deciding that you couldn't live off of the tiny little hotel sample containers in your shower, you quickly scribbled down 'Shampoo/Conditioner'.

Then you continued on your merry little way, pushing the cart forward and exploring the rest of the grocery store. Aisle 14's sign was done in a shade of lilac, and read 'Feminine Hygiene, Baby, Sexual Wellness'. Oddly enough, you had to pass through the baby section before you could get to the feminine hygiene products. You tried not to make eye contact with any diaper boxes, as they only served to remind you of the fact that – despite being married – you were the only one out of all of your friends who hadn't settled down and started a family by now.

Soon, you thought. But, then, a vision of a screaming baby throwing up in your arms flashed through your mind, an image of your husband asking you what was for dinner after the both of you had come home from work, and it didn't feel so right.

"Let's see," you hummed, tracing your finger over a box of day pads. You figured that it wouldn't hurt to be prepared, even if you weren't supposed to get your period for at least another two weeks.

So you grabbed a multipack – day pads, liners, and night pads – and you tossed them into the cart. Then, you checked "pads" off of your list.

At the end of the aisle, there were walls and walls full of condom boxes – some were even flavored – and lubricants.

Won't be needing those any time soon, you mused. You and your husband hadn't exactly been very... active recently. With work and cleaning and everything else to be done around the house, neither of you had the energy.

Well, okay. You didn't have the energy. He had made a great many fruitless attempts. It was difficult to want to have sex with a man who acted like an insolent child when you told him that, yes, it was his house too, and he could do some dishes once in a while.

You were happy, though. You were just... going through a rough patch was all.

"I'm married!" 

The words echoed in the back of your mind. You saw a vision of him there, too – not your husband – taking a tentative step towards you while you backed away from him.

"You weren't acting like it," The words replayed, clear as day, "I can't forget about tonight. I know you felt it, too."

You gazed blankly at the condom boxes on the shelves. He had been right. You weren't acting like a married woman, even now. Because when you thought of someone pressing kisses to your neck and slipping the clothes off of you, it wasn't your husband you envisioned. It was him.

You were fucked. Truly, royally fucked.

That being said, you walked right on past the wall of condoms. You were many things – a liar, Devil Hunter – but you would not break your marriage vows. It was your fault that you had been sucked into a wedding so early in your life. You had to see it through.

You had to do right by your husband.

The next aisle you hit up was the produce section in search of soup vegetables.

Some carrots would be nice, you thought. Oh, and some potatoes. Maybe even some angus beef? 

You rolled up to the vegetables. They looked so tasty, all bundled together, being misted gently with water. You pulled a few carrots off the display and popped them into a plastic produce bag.

Leeks, you thought, pursing your lips and glancing around. They were two shelves over to your right.

And you'll never guess what else was only two shelves over, so tall he had to bend over to reach the legumes, sporting a loose black tee shirt and some black sweatpants.

Captain Hayakawa. Your stomach did a backflip and a death drop and your heart seemed to beat a little faster. What the fuck.

You could tell yourself whatever you wanted, but the way your body reacted to his presence gave your true feelings away. He had you wrapped around his finger.

Still, you hadn't seen him in casual clothes before. He looked much cuter that way, you thought. You could see his arms much more clearly now, the ridges and hills of his chiseled biceps, his strong forearms.

And he was buying groceries. Could he get any better?

You couldn't recall the last time your husband had even cooked some food, let alone go buy produce.

Maybe he was grocery shopping for someone else? Maybe he had a woman at home, to whom he was only bringing these groceries. It seemed far more likely that he had just come here to cook for himself.

What am I thinking? He was bad for you. Real bad. You had no business thinking these things about another man.

So, you did what any other respectable, married woman would have done and left the produce section before he could notice you. Before you could even begin to question whether or not this meeting was really pure coincidence.

You could always pick your veggies up somewhere else.

.

"Hello, front desk, how can I assist you?"

You sighed a breath of relief, "Hey. Do you think you could have room service send up an extra towel?" You glanced down at the shattered bottle of wine you had picked up from the grocery store. You had used one of the hotel towels to mop it up. It was only after the fact, of course, that you realized you only had one towel left.

"Of course," The friendly woman on the phone answered, "Can I have a room number?"

"1409," You answered.

A few keyboard clacks later, and she said, "You have a package at the front desk. Would you like us to send that up, too?"

A package? You thought. You didn't recall ordering anything. Still, you figured it was most likely something Public Safety had sent you (and, least likely, a bouquet of flowers from your husband).

"Okay, yeah, sure," You hummed. "Send that up, too, thanks."

The phone call ended a moment later, after the two of you had exchanged goodbye. Within five minutes, there was a knock at your door.

"Room service," A feminine voice grunted.

"Coming!" You answered. Tip-toeing around the mess of broken glass you'd left bundled up inside of a red-stained white towel, you jogged to the door to answer it.

A short, brown-haired old lady in a maid's uniform was holding a freshly folded towel in one hand, and a rectangular brown box in the other. You took both from her gratefully, ducking your head and muttering a quick 'Thank you' before closing the door.

You set the towel down on the bed. Then you flopped down next to it, eyeing the brown box up precariously. It had "FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE" printed all over it.

I wonder what it is.

Of course, you had left your letter openers and box-cutters at home, so you made do with a butter knife that the hotel had so graciously provided to you. You took out a few layers of packing foam and tissue paper before the item was finally revealed to you.

It was a small, gold framed painting. One with pink and blue wildflowers in a green, open field. One with a clear sky and a tree. The one from the gallery.

"How the fuck...?" You asked, turning the thing over in your hands, as if to make sure that your eyes hadn't deceived you. (They hadn't.)

It was something so strange, so oddly specific, that you could only attribute it to one individual.

"The paintings are beautiful."

"They are, aren't they?" Captain Hayakawa reiterated. Something told you he wasn't only speaking about the paintings. "You like that one?"

"I do," You answered. "It's peaceful, I think. Pretty."

You admired the beautiful painting beneath the warm hotel light. Then, with a giddy sigh, you flopped onto your back, clutching it to your chest.

Aki, you smooth bastard. You thought. Fair play.

.

The conference room buzzed with anticipation as agents filed in, each clad in the standard uniform of crisp suits and ties.

You sat in the front row, your hands folded neatly in your lap, trying to maintain a professional demeanor.

The atmosphere was thick with tension and a sense of gravity, appropriate for a meeting about the Gun Devil—a formidable enemy everyone in the room was acutely aware of.

Miss Makima stood at the front, her posture perfect, her pink hair immaculately styled. She exuded an aura of authority and control that was almost frightening, which was normal for her. A large board behind her displayed a complex array of photographs, maps, and written leads, all connected by a web of strings and arrows. It was a visual representation of the intelligence gathered on the Gun Devil, a chilling reminder of the stakes at play.

As Makima began to speak, detailing the latest developments and potential leads, you tried to focus on her words. She spoke with a calm, measured cadence, explaining the connections and evidence they had so far. But as the minutes passed, you felt a warmth spreading across the back of your neck, an unsettling sensation that made you shift in your seat.

Curious, you turned your head slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. There he was—Captain Hayakawa—propped up against the wall at the back of the room, his gaze locked onto you with a disconcerting intensity. His blue eyes were sharp, unwavering, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot down your spine. The way he looked at you, it was as if he could see right through the layers of professional decorum you had carefully constructed.

A rush of heat flooded your face, and you quickly turned back around, your pulse quickening.

Behave, you reminded yourself sternly. But it was hard to focus, hard to even think straight, with his gaze burning into you so desperately like that – like you were the only person in the room, like he would freeze time if he could just to ravage you right then and there.

You pressed your legs together, a subconscious reaction to the sheer force of his attention.

He was going to be the death of you if you didn't get the hell out of Tokyo soon.

Makima continued her presentation, moving to a new section of the board, but her words became a distant murmur in your ears. All you could think about was the weight of Aki's stare, the way it made you feel exposed and vulnerable. You couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind. He wasn't shy, not in the slightest—his gaze was bold, almost challenging, as if daring you to meet his eyes again.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look back at the board. The images and notes blurred together as you struggled to refocus. You knew you should be paying attention—this information was critical, after all—but Aki's presence was an insistent distraction. You could feel his eyes on you, a constant, burning sensation that refused to let up.

When the meeting finally concluded, you realized with a sinking feeling that you had retained almost nothing from the entire seminar. You gathered your things, avoiding eye contact with everyone as you hurried out of the room. 

ITS SO SHORT ik ik. to make up for it, read chapter 4 and pretend i didnt accidentally post that one first LMFAOAOOA... see yall soon!! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[kaiowut99]

this is how that conversation about O'Brien and Cobra went right

[trashfactorysstuff]

A bit of more Aiko/Chiaki doodles with a new oc I showed in the last Aiko post.

So here is Daiki, Aiko and Chiaki’s unwanted son. He is a sweetheart despite the environment he grew up with. He would get along with Ringo if they were on the same timeline.

Aiko has very mixed feelings towards Daiki. She got a really bad postpartum depression and really doesn’t know how to be a mother and sometimes would lash out and being mean to the kid for no reason. Aiko just hates that Daiki looks like Chiaki.

Daiki never meets Chiaki since he was dead but is fun to draw Chiaki with Daiki. Definitely he would try to kill him in his sleep.

[saturn-sends-hugs]

not trying to ruffle feathers here, but i honestly think i would like hunter way more if he wasn’t just “hot sergeant dad” in fandom. like the other batch members i think have a more balanced amount of fandom that thinks they’re hot and fandom that discusses their character, if that makes sense?

every time i see a hunter appreciation post about his leadership, his character arc, or his struggles in raising a kid, it still eventually turns into how hot that apparently makes him lol. i think if there were more… nuance? (idk how to say that without sounding pretentious lol) then id be able to appreciate his story more.

idk, something about him or the way popular fandom presents him just makes him really boring/flat as a character to me

again, if you think he’s hot, great!! genuinely happy for you, i think my problem is just that i’m an aroace lesbian who tends to dislike the popular interpretation of characters lol

(yes this is a plea for u to convince me he’s actually interesting plsplspls i want to like writing him bsjshdkdl)

[saltynsassy31]

Frye Fest - Final Countdown

<- Previous - Part 13 - Next ->

[13/20]

🪐🍮Team Saturday/Custard (JP)🍮🪐

Splatfest 17-02-2024

[Master Post - coming soon]

[fumiku]

Hear ye hear ye!

I come bringing two Dungeon Meshi marchil fanfics to share

Enough

He got crumbs of it in moments, here and there, and it would be more than enough to last the winter. Chil knew how to live on little, with only what he could afford. But love? Love he had had enough of for a lifetime.

I'll start with the shorter one that I wrote first, a quick Chilchuck POV 1.3k words oneshot that's bittersweet if not just plainly sad. It’s about repressing a crush essentially, but the marchil is mostly a front for a character study about Chilchuck’s complex feelings on his marital situation and love in general. I’ve been told many times in comments that even without shipping marchil it was enjoyable, so give it a shot if that sounds interesting!

He soaked her in, like hard bread softening in broth.

Grind Me Down Sweetly

Even years after their journey into the dungeon, Marcille wasn’t quite over her existential dread over short lifespans… And it showed. Every other day, she came by to Chilchuck’s locksmith shop with a shocking lack of locks to smith.

Coffeeshop au except it’s not an au and there’s no coffeeshop. This one is a long oneshot of 17k words, and contains flashbacks that are meant to loosely span over a year. This fic can pretty much be entirely read as platonic. They’re just close friends but they give married energy is all. Slice of life and cozy with a side of banter & tsundere behavior, and existential dread hurt/comfort as the cherry on the sundae. It contains some classic Dungeon Meshi things like storytelling through cooking and sharing meals~ If you like the Marcille and Chilchuck dynamic in canon, this is pretty much just a bunch of that, shenanigans abound!

She clung to her friends like time was always running out.

Blonde hair is the epitome of beauty to him meanwhile his greying hair brings her existential despair. I am composed and collected about this

"I am going to chase you out with a broom"

Some related-ish memes I made!

Extra author notes and marchil rambling under cut

With how chil is so irritable and private about romance and his feelings it makes sense that their romance would have passive-agressive energy. Are they just friends or pining? Oh wouldn’t you like to know. Are they just lightheartedly bantering or is he legitimately pissed or are they blinking in morse code their true feelings at each other? Yes

My post-canon timeline is Chilchuck lives a nice life living alone in his house-shop except his friends all visit him and care, and even though he likes living alone it’s also bittersweet and every corner of his life is haunted by the ones he loves and loved and the moments he had with them. That’s it that’s all I want… (mostly the nice life part lol)

My marchil manifesto is that she grows on him stubbornly like fungal yeast and it brings out his flavor like beer <3 Because she stubbornly puts her nose everywhere and refuses to give up on getting closer to her friends and it makes him open up and repress his feelings less and aaaa <33 Obligatory shout out to the dunmeshi discord serv for engaging with my rambles

For someone who dislikes alcohol I’m having so much fun working beer metaphors and stuff into the writing, Chilchuck has all the fun motifs to play with fr... Traps, lockpicking, married life, work, destitution, starvation, rejection, repression, opening urself up to the world. Give me the most domestic fluff and give it a subtle foundation of angst and hurt comfort 👌

And I do think that Marcille takes a particular interest in Chilchuck especially because he’s so set on being a closed book as well. Yeah she def is like 👀 at him. Aaah the way she wants to meet his family so bad 😭💕 I think she romanticizes him & his family life/idealizes him as a virtuous husband a lot too. Like how she tends to think of things in a more flowery story-like way.

I do compare him to bread and her to soup in that he soaks up in her warm vibes and softens up. Which has become a personal favorite. He was bread, she was soup, can I make it any more obvious /lyr Soggy bread Chilchuck is so funny to me. Like, you know that rock solid bread but then you soak it in soup and then it just becomes the softest crumbliest thing. I think Chilchuck is a really hard bread that will break your teeth if you don’t put him in some soup beforehand. Or wine. I wracked my brain a lot about what food Chil would like (because his Adventurer’s Bible profile just says he love alcohol and hates sweet dishes rip) and I end up giving him a bread motif a lot, since it pairs well with alcohol and whatnot.

With marchil I either do unrequited angst because Chilchuck will NOT allow himself to feel, or the most domestic fluffy shit ever but in a mostly platonic dimension because once again -gestures at Chilchuck- But in a true Marcille "If I was Chilchuck’s wife" Donato fashion she manages to get her nose into the most stubborn’s people stuff like a barnacle and it’s. So married people coded anyways. They’re a lil messed up but it’s ok they’ll iron out those bumps. Ironing because they are gonna do the most domestic chores together 🔥🔥 MARRIEDCORE I TELL YOU I should get around to making more fics and more different vibes though, I already have a bunch of prompts written down~

Even more rambling and headcanons!!

I hc that when he gets his shop all his living quarters are half-foot sized so whenever the party comes to visit they suffer sitting down at the dinner table and whatnot

There’s a very specific horror in not being able to grow old with your loved one… It’s gotta be rough being in a relationship where you don’t mature at the same speed/rate. It must be so heartbreaking to turn around and your lover suddenly looks 70 while you’re still like 26 Chilchuck living until he lives with either Meijack or Flertom or at the castle and spends his days grumbling about people being even more incompetent than they used to be real. He can live longer than 50 🙏 come on peepaw you can make it to 70. He’s got so many friends ready to nurse him, prob while he complains about it. This is why I find elderly half-foots a funny mental picture. For a while I wondered if half-foots aged visually much at all in the traditional sense, and then I remembered these.

In my post-canon headcanons I’ve adopted the idea that Marcille doesn’t do her hair, it’s always someone else making her hairdos like an attendant or Kabru and like maybe Falin learns. In the "it takes a village to raise someone" community mutual aid energy… And the rare times where the task befalls Chilchuck he learns how to put it in a single braid (even if it’s so much hair for him to hold in his small hands all at once rip) because the one time he braided it in two in canon it reminded him of Meijack and gave him psychic damage. WHICH. Ohhh my god you have no idea how much I care about Chilchuck’s daughters now. After writing the first half of Grind Me Down Sweetly I am forever changed I know them all by name and know everything there is to know about them, I am making so many headcanons every day… Meijack wears thigh-high boots because she hates when sand, dirt or snow gets in her shoes- I have fanart coming up of them over at @fuumiku and I’d love making fics centered around them as well eventually yippee The angst of old senile Chilchuck still tying marcille's hair... Old senile chilchuck confusing marcille for one of his daughters… "Have you gotten taller? Oh how much you’ve grown" -breaking his neck looking up at her- I want Chilchuck to get the top notch elder treatment.

Ok this is the alcoholism tangent. I really want to believe Chilchuck can be super old, but… Realistically he’s gonna drink himself to an early grave, he’s a work hard play hard kinda guy.

Marcille would be horrified if she knew the extent of it fr fr, but I do think it’d drive a wedge between them if she tried getting him to lay off of it… If he’s open to it though that’d be so nice and sweet. Hey hey btw did you know, Chilchuck is canonically underweight due to extremely strict dieting and alcohol can act as a good hunger suppressant! Lots of issues to dig into here It’d be cute if his daughters visit him often and collectively keep tabs on him in a caring way. It’s less cute actually beinh the daughter and having to deal with it but- CHILCHUCK IS WORTH IT okay!!! Where’s that meme of "You can fix him? So is 5 other people y’all look like a construction crew" bc this increasingly looks like ‘Marcille Senshi Laios Izutsumi and his family make sure he doesn’t poison himself like a dog with chocolate’ mission.

Truly for some people reason just flies out the window when it comes to alcohol, coherence gives way to excuses. He reminds of someone I know who got a grave disease that’s worsened by alcohol and just. Continues to take it regularly. You know that thing that’s said where "an alcoholic parent will have 2 kids, one will grow to be alcoholic too while the other will never touch a drop of alcohol" and Chilchuck is def the first I think. He gives the vibe that he’d say "An alcoholic parent puts a strain on familial relationships?? Pshh, my father was and look at me! I turned out great!". I don’t think Chil could really get shaken out of it at this point tbh, seems very ingrained in him, would prob fight it back. I relate with my own familial situation ughh. Maybe if he realized how it hurt the people around him and not only himself though…. I’d def like to see him ease up on it. Drinking is often a social activity though. That gives me hope, especially with the whole dunmeshi lesson of sharing meals, that he might be able to/have recontextualized how or when he likes to take alcohol, that alcohol is better when you have others with you and you’re still able to talk and whatnot. Chilchuck says that he’s pretty picky with alcohol tho, like he has specific tastes or a high bar. Laios can ban good beer in the kingdom and then Chilchuck just stops because it all tastes awful and he’s not rich enough to import. The brewery he likes mysteriously burns down in a fireball incident one night. Marcille risks prison for her loved ones part 2, now with diplomatic immunity! ✨

I have hcs about Chil’s family dynamic, about his daughters and how alcoholism or workaholism may have affected everyone (not me inferring that Puckpatti being the most idealistic and optimistic from Chil’s daughters is probably a result from her being the youngest and perhaps Chil being the most often at work during that time and so she was mostly raised by her mother without much involvement from him). That’s a topic for another day though, for now I leave you all with thoughts of Flertom painting flowers on a shitty ceramic mug when she was 3 and Chil begrudgingly asking Marcille advice on picking a birthday gift for Puckpatti :) Oh yeah, because if we look at the timeline in The Adventurer’s Bible and combine it with when Chilchuck said that "Due to certain circumstances he hasn’t seen his wife or daughters in years" in the Senshi backstory chapter, besides letters with Flertom he has seemingly not seen them in 4 years. 4 YEARS. Thank god dungeons disappeared, it took that much for him to retire

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 6 thoughts

sighs as if i just ran a marathon.

so, you know i take a LOT of notes. but this episode was SUCH a ride that i'm gonna try a new method of copying all this down. stick with me and let's see how it goes.

okay here we are. back after our brief and sorrow-filled separation yesterday, in which i had no time to watch an episode. it’s Scully hours. hopefully.

first thing we see is mulder walking into his place in the rain. first thing i do is pause and see if i can analyze the art on his walls. they’re some sort of prints of houses? not noticing anything in particular in terms of style or artist. and it’s definitely a new place where he lives, rip the sleep couch from s1

he takes off his jacket and listens to the message she left him and oh fuck. oh fuck. her voice. the sound of duane yelling. shattering glass.

he goes to her house and sees blood and the open window!!!! the TERROR that man must have been feeling. and he uses that FBI id to sneak right in there.

now he’s prowling about her house in search of clues and looking at her blood and hair left behind which is fucked up, even by my standards 

it was at this point i wrote "he’s like a bloodhound" which is a statement i stand by and can elaborate on if prompted

OH! we see a familiar face. he meets scully's mom. while his hands are soaked in her daughter’s blood. that's okay that's fine (said in a shaking and squeaky voice).

THE OPENING SAID SOMETHING DIFFERENT: DENY EVERYTHING. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

(at this point i made a note expressing concern that we were gonna watch scully get tortured for 45 minutes straight and thank god that isn't what actually went down. because i would have been deeply upset if that had happened and would have launched upon an unstoppable rant for the next few generations)

scully's mom dreamed about her being taken away and Mulder WRAPS HIS ARMS AROUND HER. again. while still covered in her blood. what a way to meet her family. not how anyone had pictured this going down.

so it's the next morning and alex is in this meeting while mulder is having a come apart. don’t wish him to be here. and no, alex does not get the respect of being referred to by his last name like a good agent on MY account where i make the rules and the rules are that he sucks.

when rationalizing what duane is going through, skinner said “so he’s following orders from the alien voices in his head? That’s an interesting spin on the Nuremberg defense” and yeah! i chuckled. was he wrong there?

skinner made me laugh with that little remark but then went back to pissing me off by telling mulder he was too close to the case and needed to go home. like yes, he’s right, but mulder's gonna put his bloodhound skills to destructive purposes. he's gonna rip up the couch if left home alone. in a dog metaphorical sense.

so alex takes him home which was bad enough (alex must know where mulder lives to do that) and we see CIGARETTE MAN IN THE BACKGROUND????? my original notes had a lot stronger language at this reveal that i felt i needed to tone down but i will keep the "i'll have ur head im sooo serious" part in

okay, back to duane cam. he’s cruising. he cranks his window down when he’s pulled over which is still funny to me. crank windows. how novel. but don't think i've forgotten the situation at hand just because 90's technology is funny to me.

a cop pulls him over and i felt a flicker of hope inside my chest but i knew deep down it was still too early in the episode for anything to be resolved. still, duane pulling out his gun and SHOOTING the cop made my jaw drop

(my jaw kept dropping this episode to an extent that was painful. i just got my wisdom teeth out and while i love enjoying this show, the constant twists and turns are NOT leading to a pleasant mouth experience)

SCULLY IN THE TRUNK REVEAL? <- that was all i wrote when i saw here in there. i feel it sums up the situation.

mulder, somehow, taps into where she's located and gets a visual on her. he is intensely effected and this is why i support his bloodhound-like tendencies being channeled. the man gets results.

alex, don’t ask how he slept. you are a rat and should be banished from his presence during his state of mourning and forever after. 

mulder: doesn't route 229 lead to the blue ridge parkway?

alex: I don’t know <- okay lmao I get that. i get that alex. like directions are hard. you haven't won me over but you did make me laugh here.

mulder figured out where they’re going and says GET THE CAR ALEX and that “he’ll deal with skinner”. ohhh i wanna see this furious mulder deal with skinner. OHHHH i'm so on the edge of my seat this sleep deprived man is gonna <- didn't even finish that sentence due to the next reveal

WHO THE HELL IS ALEX TALKING TO ABOUT “HOLDING HIM OFF” WHY IS CIGGY MAN HERE (can you hear the desperation in all of the notes i was taking. also i don't know his name and i don't care. that's cigarette man or ciggy man if i need to use shorthand and his government name is probably "rat bastard" but i don't care enough to use it)

mulder was, at this point, falling asleep and almost hitting a truck but insisting he can still drive. wild. on the one hand, i get it, because alex is probably gonna drive them off the road and something, but then on the other hand buddy. u almost got plowed in the negative context. someone fetch him a red bull

(and yeah i googled "red bull origins" to see if that would have been possible at the time for mulder to have a sip and can confirm it would have been IF he had gotten it imported from another country. because it wasn't in the us yet. i am a scholar)

alex is listing how many awful things are caused by sleep deprivation. which i understand and again, a good argument to be made, but this grease weasel just wants to get behind the wheel so he can total the thing and i'm not having it 

(he said some like after this and it was just “there’s our turn off” but my hatred for him reached a crescendo at this point like I could have started pummeling)

so they get to the place on the mountain that takes you up- the ski lift thingy. and the guy who works it is like "you can't use it, we don't test it in the summer" and wow. when i tell you what happens next, i hope you are seated. because i had to pause and breathe for a bit.

MULDER PULLS HIS GUN OUT AND THREATENS THE DUDE WHO SAYS HE CAN’T TAKE THE CABLE SKI THINGY UP OHHHHH MY GAWDDDDD 

so he gets access to the lift thingy and he locked alex out… yes exactly right!

the lift operator is like "don't go over 15 miles per hour" and we all know what mulder is gonna do next. he cranks it up way too fast and he’s gonna fall into the mountain and i’m looking around my room like what is going on here. the cuts to Alex’s snaky eyes are freaking me tf out. Why is alex reaching for his gun. WHAT THE FUCK WHY FID HE KNOCK THAT GIY OUT HE CIT THE GENERATOR AND LEFT MULDER UP THERE WHO IS HE CALLONH 

(<- leaving that one verbatim from my notes, too, because i feel it really captures the experience, if you can work out those typos. basically alex took his gun out and knocked the lift operator out, leaving mulder stranded on the ski lift in the sky, then called someone like "i've got him trapped" and i. was experiencing all of this very quickly.)

scully cam. she’s still in the trunk.

so the power's cut on the ski lift and mulder is not gonna just sit around and wait for somebody to help him! he's climbing up the tower and once he’s up there ALEX TURNS THE MACHINE BACK ON SERIOUSLY WHAT IS GOING ON

mulder survives the journey to the mountain's peak, despite almost falling off because he was hanging from outside!! and alex looks soooooooooooo mad.

sad man in the rain finds a car with blood in the wheel and...

HER NECKLACE IN THE BACK!!! AN EPISODE 3 CALL BACK!!! to when he knew eugene tooms was going after her because he found her necklace. oh i'm gonna be SICK

back to our worstie duane, who is in the woods screaming that they took her and that he’s free and I had to pause to breathe a lil. because if mulder lost scully and his sister to aliens...... 

after what was intended to be a commercial break and some wrestling on behalf of mulder, we see duane in custody, but receive no answers on what exactly is going on. he is, however, in a small room with mulder, who looks entirely diabolical.

mulder is stalking this guy- "stalking" in the sense that he is like a predator waiting for a chance to pounce on a rabbit- and he gets up and SEES SCULLY'S BLOOD AND HAIR ON DUANE'S HOSPITAL WRISTBAND???

next occurs what i described in my notes as the "DID YOU HURT HER SCREAMING AND TORTURE SESSION. JAW IS ON THE FLOOR" (my poor jaw. who will think of her in these trying times)

again, mulder is in his animal era, because he starts choking duane. REALLY choking him. i'm shocked. between this and the showing his gun to get to the top of the mountain, we are really seeing how he will throw all of the rules to the side and spit on them to keep the people he loves safe.

(i was also thinking to myself at this point, his ass is gonna get fired)

duane was taunting him, saying "i hope they’re not hurting her too much with the tests” which is. obviously evil. but HOW evil? it's still unclear if he is lying about the whole alien thing, because remember, scully said the bullet in his brain makes him a liar who is unpredictable. and i guess a bullet could maybe do that. i have no experience in such matters.

mulder says everyone STAY OUT OF THERE and yet. alex goes in to see duane. and is like "well i went in there because he was gagging". sure yeah. suspicious. why were you close enough to hear him gag? how do you know the sound of another man gagging, alex? heard it before?

okay this next part was. pretty messed up. i'll let my reactions from being in the moment speak for themselves because i have little desire to relive the matter:

SCULLY IN A WEIRD ASS ROOM???? THE ALIENS? What the hell I’m deeply uncomfortable are they blowing her up like a balloon. Oh I got chills. Negative 

(i never want to see a character blown up like a balloon it's just not for me. i am always gonna be good on that front)

((who is blowing her up and why. i was convinced it was aliens at first but now i think it was actually the Evil Government which has me thinking, what kind of situation led them to developing that technology in the first place?))

mulder pulls alex out of the room “NO ONE is to interrogate the suspect” “except you?” “except me” <- mulder with a god complex because scully is missing and he will do ANYTHING to find her. oh yeah that's juicy. i'm gonna dive into that at a later date.

skinner yells at mulder. yeah he had it coming. even if i enjoy his character arc i do think choking your only suspect comes across as a bit. well. unprofessional, shall we say.

mulder is shocked that duane is gagging like he didn’t just choke the guy and he might have KILLED his own best lead and has to live with whatever knowledge duane had on her whereabouts dying with him 

mulder staring at the corpse. cause of death: asphyxiation. oh he killed that dude. he is gonna be in trouble. 

(that was my first thought, anyway. i wasn't picking up what mulder was putting down, requesting a toxicology report. to me, if you show a scene of a guy getting choked, and then he dies a few minutes later, it's another situation of "i don't know enough about medical stuff to dispute that". mulder, however, WILL dispute that)

next part is copied and pasted from the rough notes again because it's funny:

"alex go fuck yourself i don’t even wanna look at you. getting in the car with ciggy man. “what about scully?” “we’ve taken care of that” ARE YOU THE MFER BLOWING HER UP LIKE A BALLOON CIGGY MAN???? alex is questioning things but idgaf if he’s morally conflicted"

(i saw the seeds of an alex redemption arc being sown here and i didn't care for it. condemn him. to the dungeons.)

mulder’s super insistent that he did NOT kill duane and again i was like. well are you sure. because it kinda looks like you did.

they want him to take a lie detector test which always makes me cringe. if polygraphs have no haters its because i'm dead.

mulder believes that duane was actually poisoned by the government to hide Something and he presents this theory to skinner and his panel which was Bold but you know our boy mulder. bold is what he does.

“why are you so paranoid Mulder” asks some random guy from the council in an annoyed fashion << terribly insensitive thing to say to guy who just had his best friend kidnapped

“I find it hard to trust anybody” (cutscene to asking Alex for his keys) NAURRR YOU CANNOT TRUST THE WEASEL 

alex gives him the keys and leaves with a long lingering stare. okay. freak.

mulder's going to the senator!!!! i was hoping we would get more info on that whole deal- why does this guy sponsor mulder? why does he do it if he knows it's a bad idea? how do they even know each other? is he a republican? - but we really don't gain any insight. he runs into Deep Throat 2.0, who I believe to be a handsome fellow, and he says that They will deny everything

who is they, i mumble quietly to the screen. why do they know all the things??

mulder is in visible and irreparable agony when getting in the car but he still has a funky tie on. despite the horrors his swag must persist.

GASP!! Mulder opens the car drawer and sees the cigarettes of famed ciggy man. alex is too pretty to smoke...

Mulder puts two and two together FAST and accuses alex of being a rat to skinner (which he’s right about!) he says he stands behind his accusation on the record and skinner tries to call alex up

(which was so funny to me because if he was a secret double agent- which he is- and mulder is accusing him of something adjacent to treason- what is a talk in skinner's office gonna do to solve the problem? again skinner is giving me high school principal energy. ur not gonna talk that one out babe but it's sweet you gave it a go xx)

mulder says that scully got too close to whatever the truth is when she had that little tracker thing and so they got her. i find myself agreeing with the guy who believes elvis faked his death. funny how he's often the level headed one

skinner, to my surprise, is taking this accusation of his agents being of the double variety quite well. he actually seems pretty reasonable about the whole thing, and like he truly believes there is some ulterior motives at play here.

but sympathy isn't enough for mulder: “What CAN you do” he asks Skinner, thrusting a finger in his face. “There’s only one thing I can do,” skinner sighs, and he... REOPENS THE X FILES?

(now this did shock me, but i was excited! don't get me wrong, i was just a bit surprised. i was thinking maybe he'd call up ciggy man and try to have a nice dignified chat since he seems so hell-bent on solving things through the power of discussion, but i suppose that reauthorizing the investigation into aliens while a top agent is missing for doing just that is. certainly an approach to the problem at hand?)

mulder walks sadly beneath a water fountain. it was sad enough as it was but then scully's mom walks up and things get even More sad

to somewhat break the air of tragedy: for some reason his face is crystal clear but hers is superrrrr blurry. like i've mentioned before, some shots are normal tv quality, and others look like they were ripped from a VHS. it throws me off each time.

but back to the matter at hand: he gives her scully’s cross necklace and he’s like "why did she wear that if she was such a skeptic" (which is a question i keep pointing out!!!!!!) and we learn the answer:

it was a gift from her mother on her 15th birthday. which i can and Will analyze in depth at a later date. the gift of a religious object to further solidify the need from her family to be Perfect and never fail and do exactly as they say. but scully choosing to wear it anyway, decades later, to hold her family close, no matter the pain of disappointing them. when she mindlessly reaches for the pendant to roll in her fingers, does she feel the warmth of family or the chill of their expectations she can never meet?

but. mulder tries to give her the necklace. and she says that he can give it to her when he finds her. not if. when.

he goes to a hill and looks up at the sky.

this episode was intense, and i will be gnawing on it like a bone for a while. seeing mulder and scully's mom together made me incredibly emo. seeing him break all the rules to find her also made me emo. trying to figure out if skinner is a real one and the ratio to which alex is genuinely evil vs just stupid were some serious cases of mental chess. and duane. we all wanna know what his deal is. and where is alex! he doesn't have to come back, don't get me wrong, but... did he fall off the face of the earth? go back to massachusetts for a dunkin run? i know that smug new englander look he has about him. don't sit here and tell me he grew up in kansas i won't buy it.

anyway, i saw the description of the next episode- so we're going back to an x file. i find it hard to imagine that mulder will have emerged from bloodhound mode by then, so maybe he thinks it's connected somehow and will go on a quest for answers in that direction- a vampire direction? hmm. guess i'll just have to tune back in!