- we all know that chuuya often has short outbursts out of anger (bc his short body is not built for containing large amounts of pressure- sorry, had to put that one in there), but when he’s truly angry, he can’t move or breathe or even think about anything coherent- he’s completely consumed with rage. on a lighter note, this has a pretty funny side effect because he basically unconsciously activates his Ability and causes everything within a ten mile radius to start floating (”chuuya. chuuya, put the roomba down. chuuya, please I’m begging you. CHUUYA-”).
I was gone because I was exploring the secrets of nuclear weapons and then I was threatened to keep quiet by an unknown identity (this is a joke)
Anyways, I’ll be here more often now sooo have some flags content (verlaine and adam too) and Tsuji dou because there’s really no content of them here.
- apart from his declining mental health, one of atsushi’s biggest flaws is his forgetful memory. i shit you not, this man has the memory of a goldfish. it’s one of the reasons why kyouka does not trust him with the house keys or the car keys or the agency keys (or keys in general). the only reasons why he remembers most of the port mafia members so vividly is because of their a) unforgettable emo/vintage aesthetic outfits and b) constantly attempting to murder him will makes it hard to notremember them
kenji knows all sorts of disturbing animal facts and he will bring them up at the most random moments. the agency could be having a game night (minor detail: the moment uno cards are brought out, everyone’s out for blood!) and he’d be like: “hey did you guys know if ducks are bored enough, they will literally eat each other?” :D
- since kyouka and kenji are both big eaters, they like to go out to restaurants whenever they can! every time atsushi comes along, he can practically hear his wallet crying out in pain
poe writing a book for six years to defeat ranpo and dazai writing 26 volumes of a notebook to complain about chuuya has the same energy. that energy is called homosexuality
Fyodor and Reader celebrate a victory well deserved after hours of planning and calculation. As the world burns, heat and tension spark between the couple, the two new deities of a new world.
Characters present:
Fyodor
Warnings
15+(I’m gonna start adding age “recommendations’’ because I can’t stop you from reading, but try and respect my boundaries DNI- if your age in your bio is 14< I will block you T_T I have nobody blocked and I really hate blocking, so please respect my boundaries.)
Mild Suggestive content-
Manipulation- NOT a healthy relationship
violence/gore - Minor but there
Canon divergence.
Religious themes
Words
824 (last paragraph holds suggestive content would make it 690 words if you skipped it)
Flames, an eternal symbol of different takes. Like with all things that lay rest within the world, fire can be interrupted in such ways that go over anybody’s heads. A symbol for rebirth, but also destruction, lies within bright lights that shimmer within the dark that surrounds them. Why can one not combine the two meanings into a perfect mix of the morals of white and black? For rebirth to appear, does destruction not come into play? As with crime and punishment, can you have justice without crime and crime without justice?
As with the former pair of fire, there is an adept place where you can have one but not the other, while where one exists, you must have the other. To have justice, there must be crime, and where there is rebirth, must be something to bring forth from the ashes. While on the side of the devil there is not the light of the saving grace, only the latter of destruction; without rebirth and crime, without its hand of punishment. Perhaps such ideas are what fuel the man’s mind. As he plays God upon his throne, his eyes focus on the burning world. From the ashes there shall be perfection, so he says. Without the tainted crime of abilities, a world beyond that of the mortal plane. He is to be the god of this new world, an all-knowing monster… while he is also the devil that lurks within the shadows, playing the darkness to counter perfection. He wishes for new, but the old must burn before such things can come to be.
His words were always sweet, like honey, to those he needed as chess pieces. He knew how to play his hands, which side of the coin he must play. To those who need to see him as divine, he is such, nothing less. For those who must see him walk within the shadows, a motivation to follow for a goal to kill is the devil that lurks behind mortal souls. To the one beside him, clinging upon his arm, like a lost child, he was their life source, an equal of the boundaries. A balance of two forces, neither savior nor hunter. He brought them into an enlightened craving. His eyes were nothing like a human’s gaze, but rather a ravished beast tearing at every defense as he penetrated them one… by one… until there was nothing but the exposed human heart within their shallow chest. His words like silk wrapped softly about their mind until he was their life’s center, their reason for living. The final chess piece in a game he’d been playing since the soil of Yokohama had graced the bottom of his boots… no…. longer, had he begun this journey the day the curse bestowed on his body had shown itself? This ability that helped him form his ideals and visions? Though he supposed it did not matter quite that much when it had begun now that the flames of everlasting change swallowed the land around.
His only true care within this greedy world was of the one seated over his lap, leaned against him as he watched change. “Look what we have made my angel, the heavens shake and the depths of hell tremble at our beck and call.” He smiled to himself as his glass of vodka touched his lips before he offered the same glass to his Guardian Angel. An ability that kept people away, a manipulation of the very elements of space and time, contorting things beneath veils of lies and tweaks of manipulation. To have the final card be this power concluded his success from the start.
To ease you into his grip had been a fun game while it lasted, to devote you to his views and create reliability upon him as your only line to surviving. His hand let that glass fall back to the table as his fingers twirl with your hair, his body language open and bored. “Let’s celebrate victory, little angel.” His voice swept within the walls, barely above a whisper as he trailed a delicate touch down your chin.
The small nod of those glassy eyes led him to lean forward, with lips curled into his snake-like smirk trialing against their neck. Leaving soft markings along the flesh as his hands moved from resting around their waist to leading down their sides, kneading the flesh between his hands. “Isn’t this world perfect now? Without the sinners?” The nod, as if they lacked a voice in their haze of admiration, always made his throat release a small chuckle. They would reign until death claimed their mortal souls. The two as one, running hands around each other. Their lips pressed together in rushed movements… The sound of breaths racing and lips smacking against each other as the world burned and rebuilt itself around them, the new centers in this world, echoed within the empty hall.
Did a thing on Twitter where people could give a character and a random number corresponding to outfits on this Pinterest board and someone suggested Sigma in #32
