#and I need this songfic

[shapeshifterraccoon]

where is my iwaoi broken melodies songfic??? rude???

#iwaoi #haikyuu #fanfiction #songfic #lyrics #song lyrics #nct dream #broken melodies #is a beautiful song #with beautiful lyrics #and I need this songfic #more than anything #give it to me #pls #fanfiction prompts #someone please write this for me #i am literally begging #i'm beggin you #please #i'm obsessed #and i love them #i love them so much #Spotify #i'm serious #like #have you SEEN these lyrics??? #it's not a want it's a need #fanfic authors #where u at #you need to get on this rn

[mediumgayitalian]

i mean I wouldn’t hate it if you went down the song line by line and explained your reasonings 👀 <- you don’t have to of course

ASK AND YOU SHALL FUCKING RECEIVE HOLY SHIT.

#sorry it’s handwritten i need to annotate w pen #i Cannot do it digitally #anyways here are my thoughts. #i tried SO HARD to make them legible lmk if u can’t read them & i’ll type them #maybe i should write this deadass #ask #solangelo #line without a hook #songfic brainstorm

[pyreneese]

Hey Death Note artists, amv and animatic makers who I love oh so dearly, you're all missing out on a prime lawlight song I just found ;) here.

#death note #lawlight #If you beautiful wonderful animatic/amv makers won't satisfy this hunger I might need to roll up my sleeves and write a songfic T-T XD

[zelreedsandwrites]

Bitches only want one thing and it’s a homoerotic vignette of Imogen going absolutely feral to protect Laudna set to Get Off My Back by Bryan Adams 🤷🏼‍♀️

#hello it me I’m bitches #was browsing the Spirit movie soundtrack to update my Southern Gothic playlist and this idea has me by the neck #imodna #imogen x laudna #southern gothic #hahaha WOW I’m gay #fuck me my hands are itching I don’t need another songfic rn

[writinginthesecrettrees]

So yeah.

Dean finds the porn Sam did to make ends meet in Stanford, and he doesn't say anything. But suddenly Centerfold is playing non-stop ("Driver picks the music, bitch.") and belting out "My blood runs cold, my memory has just been sold, my angel is the centerfold" and it doesn't take a pre-law genius long to figure out what's eating at him.

And maybe they never really broke up but that last time (furtive, angry, desperate, hurryhurryhurry before the bus pulls up) had been a goodbye and they both know that Dean's flings and Sam's almost-fiancee in those years weren't cheating. But this... getting money for getting fucked on film feels like a betrayal. If Sam would rather do porn than call Dean for help... Maybe the betrayal was his. He could have gone with Sam, could have kept him safe, could have gotten a job or hustled pool or, hell, he could have done the porn so Sammy could focus on school and stay his only. If Sam was doing porn, Dean had failed him. As a brother, as a lover--

Sam's voiice cuts through his thoughts. "I pretended they were you. I just... I was so empty without you."

And he wants to say he was too but instead he says "looked stuffed full to me," under his breath, half-hoping Sam won't hear and he doesn't look. Can't bear to see the kicked puppy hurt in Sam's eyes that he doesn't deserve because it was Dean's failing. Dean's fault.

And that's why he deserves the "Bet it took you all of an hour to fall into some bar slut's bed" Sam throws at him and the only time he's ever heard that venomous tone was aimed at Dad. Dean takes a breath, tries to pull his thoughts into some semblance of an argument and maybe if they get it all out, bleed out the poison, they can be them again, but Sam sighs before Dean can respond. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean says, because he still wants that fight but if Sam's gonna be all mature. He glances over to see Sam with some wry smile and a bottomless sadness etched on his face, quickly hidden when he notices Dean looking.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam says and maybe it's his imagination, maybe wishful thinking, but Dean could swear there's longing there, some note that reminds him of years gone by. Back when they still tried to be just brothers.

And it's the way Sam chuckles as he calls Dean "Jerk" that has Dean changing the music, and he's not belting it out but he still sings along with "buckle up baby, it's a bumpy ride, we're two kids hitching down the road of life" and the ache in his heart eases just a little when Sam's hand slides over to brush against his leg.

#the first fic i ever wrote for any fandom was a songfic #this is back to my roots in a big way #wincest #past weecest #music is fun #i meant this to be funny #but dean got in my head #with all his self-loathing and need #if only he could see himself through sam's eyes #my writing #oh the early seasons mess of them #before they got back together for real #somewhere between 'bloody mary' and 'bugs' #also 'born to be my baby' is their song i won't be taking arguments' #Youtube

[o0mochacoffee0o]

Ya’ll @wolfqueen66793 infected me with (platonic) Tails x Kit Brainrot so if you’ll excuse me I’m going to be writing a fanfic now titled “marry you” after the Bruno Mars song.

(…if anyone wants to know my silly brainrot scenarios that have spawned please ask me about it I have so many)

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #fanfic #miles tails prower #kit the fox #songfic #kit the fennec #tails the fox #sonic idw #the brainrot is real #idw sonic #idw comics #sonic idw fanfic #bruno mars + sonic #never knew I needed this #but here we are #brain go brrrr #marry you AU

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

me: what a beautiful uplifting song this is, let me look up the lyrics

the song, about the comfort of suicide:

#I SWEAR- #I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS- #BUT IT'S PRETTY CLEAR #I needs to write a songfic from it lol #tw suicide

[pink-blossomsz]

Carachoco song

This song gives me vibes of Dark Choco being in love with Caramel. But because of everything he's done and how he believes he's fated to be on the path of darkness, he's convincing himself she wouldn't love him back and he's trying to distance himself from her. Something along those lines, sometimes I suck at wording my thoughts. Anyways, Yum yum Carachoco angst! ^^

#cookie run kingdom #carachoco #dark choco x caramel arrow #caramel arrow cookie #dark choco cookie #don't you dare (make me fall in love with you) #caramel arrow x dark choco #Wanna wrong a songfic or something but I need to finish my other stuff first! #Spotify

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 15: Misanthrapologist (2)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Hidan doesn't know how to say "I love you." What he knows instead is how to savor something that hurts.

Author's Note: *WEE-WOO-WEE-WOO, SIREN SOUNDS*

CONTENT WARNING: This is a chapter very much about the intersection of mental illness, self harm, and having triggers for self harming. There is also knife play. From this point on, any chapter with the title Misanthrapologist may involve said knife play. Whats more, the knife play while consensual is not safe. I am perfectly okay if you skip anything that is uncomfortable for you.

The performer also has absolutely no idea he is immortal, the exact depths to which he can carry out what he preaches. It may be intense compared to prior interactions between her and Hidan.

The song for this chapter is Misanthrapologist by Will Wood.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So call me Amadeus

God made me famous 'cause I am his favorite

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Kisame did, indeed, touch Hidan’s fucking room. After such heartfelt welcoming, the performer is already trying to take the reaper backwards by the arm, beseeching him to calm down. “Hey, hey, it’s okay!” she pleads, watching the way he grits his teeth and raises his fist. “You can make a new one!”

“I shouldn’t NEED TO!”

Kisame pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hidan, it was literal, rotting blood stains on the floor. It was starting to reek.”

“Fuck you???" is all he has to say to that. Damn heathen. "Fuck you!”

The woman exhales, long and exasperated. Surely there is something else they can focus on? They only just started, this adventure all together. It’s like a dollhouse, all of her friends (“friends”? they're kind of forced to be nice to her) together, but they still are all fairly willing and capable of killing one another. Joy.

“Hidan, why don’t we go for a walk—?”

“Takara—” Wait. She is pretty sure he’s never said her name before. Huh. That’s...huh. This is a weird time for that sentimental tidbit of information. “—I have spent so many. Damn. Hours. And hours. And hours. Walking.” Oh thank Jashin, the lady thinks, he’s starting to think of something besides the missing ritual circle on his decrepit bedroom floor. Maybe she can use that to her advantage, to make peace.

“Then what would you like to do, now that you’re back?” she offers helpfully.

“Pray.”

“Okay, we can—”

“On my intricately drawn holy sigil for Lord Jashin that SOMEONE thought was freaking dirty!”

The blue man has his arms folded, frowning with squinted, exhausted eyes. She couldn’t have been discovered in this world by someone else? Anyone else? Maybe became friends with a wild dog or a swarm of angry bees? That’d be easier to handle than Hidan, of all people in their universe.

“Think of it this way,” the prophet’s one and only ally optimistically suggests, “You can teach me how to do it this time!”

Oh dear gods above. Kisame raises a lone index finger. “Takara, I have to say that I don’t think that’s very wise of you—”

“Wise my ass, that’s actually a decent idea!” Oh, there’s that horrible smile of his. It’s a real talent for something besides bloodshed to get him to grin, so Kisame is caught off guard by the easily shifting enthusiasm.

...Does his own bloodshed count, though?

Almost like they’ve known each other for years, the best and the worst disciple of Jashin swing their palms toward one another’s in excitement, clenching to make a deal. It doesn’t take very long for the pious man's free hand to begin to wave the shark away like he’s no more than a fly. “Now if you excuse us…do ya mind?”

Yeah, Kisame does a little, certainly when the only civilian in the house will be left alone with arguably the single most unhinged mass murderer on the planet. ...Okay, the swordsman of the Mist isn’t much better, but at least he hasn’t entirely lost his mind. Not like Hidan has. And so a wary guard looks to his ward for her consent. She looks back, bright yet soft, and flickers an innocent smile. She nods her consent to be left be.

“...Yell if you need me,” Kisame makes her promise, but she just closes her eyes, just like a cat does when it trusts you.

“We’ll be okay.”

On Hidan’s head remaining on his shoulders, she damn well better be, Kisame thinks as he reluctantly steps out and closes the sacrificial altar's front door.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But I can hate myself

So you don't have to

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The silver demon knows better than anyone that this woman is not as innocent as she pretends to be. No such thing as people on the moon, there's never been people in space. It's all as ridiculous as the way she dresses, all the pastel and floral and pink. For whatever reason, one he's not ascertained yet, the stranger wraps all things macabre and dark in a big frilly bow, like she sewed her heart inside a teddy bear. It's so distracting...so is it to protect herself? Eh...that doesn't really make sense to him, but that's his best guess, and honestly, it's not that far off. A scholar at heart, it isn’t like she’s shoved cotton in her ears whenever he speaks of his religion, not like her questions mean nothing at all. A sociologist: that’s the word she told him before. Everyone has their reasons, and she lives to know. That is how she can watch on with interest as the two sit across each other, finally, again after so much time. The familiarity is like a warm blanket on Hidan’s soul, the way they both sit cross-legged as she listens.

No one else listens like she can.

“So, might remember, might not, here’s a refresher for ya,” he begins, shifting one leg up so he can lean on his knee. “Circle’s important part of the prayer. Remember why?”

The performer bites the inside of her lip. She doesn’t know how to read the cheat sheet he gave in a handwritten bible, so she needs to go off of memory. “It...unifies and amplifies,” she recalls with his same choice of words from a month-so before. “It is not strictly necessary for prayer, but to always go without is like walking outside without shoes.”

“Bingo!” ...Wait, do they have fucking bingo—? “But,” he drawls out the syllable to give her time to think, “There’s somethin’ important you forgot.” She chirps up with a small “oh!”

“The...the blood represents dedication. The...precision of the circle being made of...your...ah...own...flesh?” She pauses to gauge his approval or lack there of, to which he glances diagonally at the ceiling and waivers his hand with a hum. It’s close enough. “Flesh is demonstrative of your focus and sacrifice.” Hidan hums again, this time longer and more satisfied with an upward tilt of his chin.

“You got it, you got it.” This is a side of him that no one else gets to see. No one else gives him the time of day, listens to his sermons, even attempts to understand what he’s trying to say. And so, no one else but her will be able to see him like this: unagitated and engaged. “And once the circle is drawn?”

He reaches into the inside of his black cloak while she tries to pluck an answer from her brain.

“You…” There’s no recollection of something more specific, and so she answers in a way that feels too plain, too simple. “...Pray?”

“Mm.” The man nods, and a kunai is gripped in his hand.

And abruptly, she is not doing so great.

“Eh?”

His eyes widen ever so slightly at hers going into saucers. The woman is pale, in an instant she is sick to her stomach. He raises a brow. Their first meeting was a doozy for her, yeah, but their conversations about his religion never turned up this way since, no matter how much he talked about the worst of things. What’s up now?

“Are ya...okay?”

She is not. She most definitely is not. But she should be. She should be. And so she must answer in the affirmative. “Yeah, I’m— I’m fine.” It’s not a lie if she should be fine. It’s just a knife. But Hidan has no idea that the problem is that there is a knife.

“Well, if you say so…” he mumbles, casually bringing the blade towards his palm, ready to get started as she had so requested to see. Audibly, though, she flinches; a whimper comes as her shoulders tense inward like she might be able to fold herself tighter in place, less able to move.

Hidan’s eyes narrow, and it is only coincidental that the kunai in his hand lowers away from his skin. “Hold on...you aren’t squeamish, are ya?”

“No, no—” That is actually true, at least usually.

“Then the hell is the matter?”

“Nothing—”

“Fuckin’ liar,” he rolls his eyes. “Listen, you asked to learn and now we’re learning! If you’re a wuss about blood, might as well tell me now.” He tilts his head. “Might make it a bit easier, yeah?”

“I’m not! I’m…” Her eyes are glued on the glinting metal; it eats her words up. “...Sorry.” She's escalating a lot faster than he anticipated, Hidan can see the panic on her face.

“Takara, can you just—”

“Sorry!"

Shamefully, she must take her leave. The woman stands up, and her hands grip each other for her dear life. She’s a bad friend. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Takara—”

The door closes again, and he is alone. Hidan exhales. His hand raises the blood-drawer again. Might as well get it done since he’s already started.

“...Goddammit.”

Slash.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

'Cause I like you, don't you see?

I just like you a little more than me

I, I like you, don't you see?

Oh, hеy, I just like you a little more than me

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Busy work keeps from idle hands, idle hands keep from dumb mistakes. The running water breathes its voice into her ears, and she tries to meditate on it alongside the motions involved in doing dishes. Shaky fingers grab one plate, scrub in a circle, set it down. Another plate, scrub in a circle, set it down. Spoon, accidentally do that thing where you put aim the faucet right onto the curved end so it splashes everywhere, set it down. Kitchen knife—

“Heh—!”

A cling of metal and a gasp occur at once, briefly interrupting the stream of sound from the small waterfall. It continues as ever, running the clear liquid over the innocuous little tool, making the silver seem even brighter and therefore sharper under its ever-changing shapes. Something so ordinary can intimidate her so much and it’s pathetic. Here she thought she was doing better. Takara frowns. Wasn't she improving? She hadn’t thought of it once since the water took her away from the old world.

A shadow drops over her shoulder, a pursed lip and a bored expression a great contrast to her own face as the traveler whips her head back to look. Purple irises slide over the way she’s raised her hands, the way they’re making sure they’re far away from so much as thinking about getting cut. Apologies begin to stammer again, to which Hidan only rubs his temple and interrupts like she's saying nothing at all.

“...You have a damn phobia,” he surmises. “That’s the word for this, right?” He makes the mistake of assuming that this is why she was afraid to kill with his scythe instead of normal civilian common sense. Either way, she shakes her head, bashful.

“I...well...only...kinda.” In full, aware control, she lowers her arms to her sides, slowly shuts off the sink, and gradually turns around. “I used to be more afraid, all the time. Now it’s only...sometimes.”

One eye squints with a questioning grumble. “Sometimes?”

“Only sometimes,” she repeats. Even when she walks past him and leaves the kitchen, Hidan trails behind. He’s a hard man to satisfy, in terms of curiosity.

“So like. Somethin’ triggers it?" he asks the back of her head, "Not just if you see a weapon?”

“Oh yeah.” The further she gets away from the sharp edge, the easier it is to talk, the more she expresses herself freely. “Usually it's when I’m not doing so great.”

The tea room will do, she decides, making a turn into the little nook where Kisame and Itachi once sat frozen for a whole day. She takes the south-facing loveseat, sitting horizontally across it so her feet are on the cushion. Hidan does the same, taking the northern chair and resting one leg on top while the other dangles off.

“...Are ya not doin’ so great now?” he presses. She’s quick to assuage him of his secret fears, that he is not enough after all, by shaking her head.

“Things are...pretty good, honestly?” Her gaze moves off of him to glance sideways at the window behind her seat and Hidan's only friend makes a list of things that are better with him around. “I got people who care about me...I don’t have to worry about being safe...or if I get enough sleep before work...or when the rent is due…” The more the woman goes on, the more clear it is to Hidan that this isn’t comparison to times when they had lived together before; it’s even further beyond.

“Do ya have a point?” he presses, getting she means something to bring all this up.

Her chest visibly rises and falls with full and heavy lungs. He can hear her breath even from over the coffee table between them.

“...Keep a secret for me?���

“Eh?” He blinks several times, but the answer is obvious, regardless of what he’s getting into by saying it. “Yeah, sure, okay… What’s your big secret, girly?”

Her expression is...shockingly calm in the long pause that comes to pass. It’s an aspect of her, a piece of her that will never quite go away. You can only speak of such a thing with casualness, with humor, lest it get more power than deserved.

“You ever feel sometimes you just wanna bash your own head in?”

If she sees his jaw drop, she ignores it, still watching out the window.

“That since you can’t kill God for doing all this to you, you just wanna kill yourself so you can go up and meet him, tell him what an asshole he’s been? Maybe get your hands around his neck for doing all this?”

She has achieved the impossible: Hidan is now concerned for someone else. “...Takara, what the fuck?”

That catches her attention, and she glances back at him, measuring his reaction. He is genuinely confused; she’s only seen this face on his before the one time he caught her singing a Lemon Demon song to herself. It scares her a little; out of everyone, she thought maybe he’d be the easiest to explain it to...

“Sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re not—” She kind of is, but he can’t be scared of anything. “—I just don’t get it.”

...Maybe she could keep trying.

“Do you remember when you asked me if my period was chronic?” With another sputter, Hidan’s cheeks prickle till pink and he rubs the back of his head.

“Uh. Yeah? What about it? So what?” He makes a wrong guess: “Is it happening again? Yer having a fuckin’ mood swing or whatever?” She shakes her head...though he is halfway right.

“I do have something chronic,” she finally admits, something that is perhaps worth his pity after all. A fingertip knocks the middle of her forehead. “Sometimes, brains get sick just like the rest of you can. Just like any other organ. Back where I’m from, it’s pretty common—” Putting aside her belief that it’s probably common here too, just handled differently. “—So they make medicines for it.”

The woman allows silence. Hidan may not always realize something immediately, but if you give him enough time, he catches on with deadly accuracy:

“...Ya don’t have that medicine.”

“Mm-mm,” she hums in the negative, so nonchalantly about something so life-altering. “So sometimes...I think...even though things are good...the chemicals my brain produces in response to stimuli isn’t always in the right balance. It’s like my brain— I mean, my logical part— and my heart— the part that runs off of the chemicals— don’t always agree on what is really happening.”

“Ah…” he murmurs, slinking his face into a palm, elbow pointed against the arm of the couch. “That fuckin’ sucks,” he understates, though she’s not the least bit offended. Honestly, the more easygoing this conversation is, the better.

“I can’t blame it for everything, but it’s a lot of work to retrain my mind, my reflexes. So whenever I’m weird...or I apologize too much...—” I’m sorry. “—You know why.”

It’s a fascinating contradiction, he begins to see, between his philosophy and her mental illness. The death of someone doesn’t mean much to Jashin if they don’t put up a fight. Killing yourself for no reason does nothing to spread his gospel. He ponders...is this why? Is this why she listens so keenly to him? Is this why she seems to accept such harsh truths even when she’s as weak and thin-willed as a butterfly wing?

Is any thirst for blood simply reserved for her own?

On her end of the room, as the disciples mirror one another as the fishes do in the constellation Pisces, the traveler enjoys the quiet. Someone knows. It’s not something she meant as a secret, but as soon as he moved to strike himself, she realized it had been one all along. Someone knows now, someone can finally come as close to understanding it as maybe someone can.

That’s about to be her problem, turns out.

“...I got an idea.” Hidan rolls his leg off the cushion and then moves from sitting to standing. The motion in his wrist indicates she’s to follow.

“Uh...okay.”

She slinks along behind, hands behind her back rubbing one another in residual anxiety, though the emotion she feels at his mysterious proposal is closer to intrigue than fear. They walk up the creaking staircase, turn the corner, and he opens the door to his room. The smell of rot from before is gone, but the metallic aspect has returned. Her eyes widen. The ritual circle has been drawn in her absence.

“I...oh.” Is this it? Is this what he wanted her to see? After stepping inside, Hidan moves to close the door behind her. He’s so uncharacteristically wordless that it takes her a second to look to him, to see what he’s doing.

His cloak is unbuttoned and drops to the floor. Hidan has been technically shirtless all along, but it looks so different when he’s taken his coat entirely off.

“Wait.”

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

“Hidan. Hidan, wait, what-?!”

He stops halfway in beginning to slide down his pants, looking up at her from the awkward position. “Eh? Well, guess for this first time I don’t need ‘em off…” The fabric shimmies further back up on his waist as before, not revealing anything further than the hips after all.

First time?!

“WHAT!” Her face is as red as the blood on the floor.

“Can you calm the hell down?!” Oblivious to one another’s intent, it’s only till his next words that seductive things are taken off of the table. “Don’t listen to the chemicals or...whatever.”

Her lips part to speak silence as he shoves the black and crimson cloth out of the way. A hand holds her wrist. As long before, when he first felt a pang of pity for the girl, it is so very gentle as he walks them onto the circle. It’s so fresh that it's still a little tacky as it sticks to his lowering knees.

“I have an idea,” he repeats, now that he’s lured her here. He has sunk to the floor in the middle of Jashin’s triangle, and he brings forth an object from his pocket to a standing woman much like how someone would propose. The only problem is that he is once again holding the kunai. The issue is that he wants her to take it. She’s so frozen she can’t even flinch.

“Hidan…” she murmurs, brow furrowing so hard it hurts. There are no words for this besides his name and to question. “W...what?” The circle is complete. In fact, she can now see the raw cut on the plushest muscles upon his hand. What is he asking her for...?

It’s more what she could be asking of him, really.

“Any way ya wanna hurt yourself…” Hidan explains, serious as can be, “Do it to me, instead.  I can take it. I'll be fine.”

“Hidan…” she quivers, horrified. The length of kindness does not matter when it creates such an atrocity. “That’s…” The bottom up her lids pinch upward in moral disgust. “...No…!” He responds to her terror so levelly, it makes this even worse.

“I want it.”

“No you don’t—”

“I fucking do.”

A reply so fast from her cut so short. His eyes are hooded. Now that he’s half naked, it becomes clear to her: the many, many scars upon his skin. She does not know that they are lighter, more minor than they should be on any human being, considering what he’s gone through...by his own hand or any other. Somehow, he is both so very damaged and absolutely immaculate. The beauty of him is overshadowed by the circumstance.

“Hidan…” The disciple pleads, tears in the corners of her eyes, unable to cross the line he reaches across. “Hidan…!” But damn if he isn’t curious. He asks something of her, as calmly as she’s ever seen him:

“Why not?”

Why not?

It should be obvious, but clearly the reaper has such a different view of the situation than she. In this grave matter, how can she unwrap it? How can she explain how this is so very wrong? She decides, unconsciously, that it necessitates the most painful of honesty.

“Because...I...don’t want to hurt,” she confesses. His hand remains out, blade resting upon it, waiting for her to take, but she does not. It scares her so much. “I don’t...want...to do what I’m not willing to have someone else...do to me. And—” Her reasoning: “—It’s selfish. But. But. But.”

But he is still listening. She has no escape, no interruption. She must continue to explain herself.

“I can’t...handle that kind of hurt if it’s from someone else.”

...What a strange distinction. It’s foreign to him, the idea that she’s more okay with hurting herself than she is anyone else. Masochism and sadism are shades of black and white blended till gray in the prophet’s existence; there is no such thing as sympathy, not when we all bleed the same.

...Then why, pray tell, has he been offering such a lowly thing to her?

He makes his own contradictions shut up by moving his empty, ringed hand so delicately up to his docile master, so carefully as to not scare, so smoothly so as to assure that no pain will be entering her own body tonight. Her skin is so soft in his scarred fingers.

“So...the fear of being hurt is the only thing that holds you back?” he tries to discern correctly. “It isn’t even that you’re not willing to hurt yourself?”

So sinfully, the truth is clear. “...Yes.”

She watches his face. A pensive expression grows a small smirk. He has been assured that maybe she could be a killer, after all.

“...Don’t worry about me, angel.” Another word...another thing he has never called her. Not out loud. She isn’t sure if this is a nightmare or a dream. She isn't sure anymore if she wants it to end. “Whatever can be done to a human body, I’ve done it. It’s been done to me. Whatever you feel...it’s nothing to me. I'll soak your suffering like a sponge. I can take that shake in your damn hands and carve it into a prayer.” Into his flesh. Into his soul. Jashin will surely hear them this way. “Just trust me.”

The stranger is unable to move her own body; it is so very easy to guide her fingers to clasp around the kunai’s handle...but something still isn't right. What is it?

…Ah, the most important part.

“Do you believe me?” he asks. “Do you believe me when I promise I won’t hurt you back?”

…

…

“I. Don’t.” Her mind is not in her body. “Know.” His fingers trail across her knuckles like butterfly kisses.

“Will you let me prove it?"

This is a nightmare of misunderstandings. She merely meant to say...that sometimes things are hard. Sometimes things scare her. And sometimes she needs to leave. This is far too drastic. There's no way she should ever ask this of him, that it'll do nothing but craft a desire to hurt other people. And yet.

And yet.

Religious purpose is used as an excuse to explore something truly deplorable.

"...Yes," she concedes, breathless.

That's all that is needed for the man to give her his everything. Hidan guides her grip on the kunai  with his own, and the disciple allows him, starting by pulling her down to his level, to her own knees so the symbol of his faith bleeds onto her dress. He brings the tip of the blade to the same palm he’s already struck to make his sigil, the hand laid face up between them with the wound's thin edges pinkened by healing cells. He grits his teeth at the first pinprick from the weapon she holds with his fostering attention, but he soon exhales in release as the line starts to draw. The new cut meets in the middle of his own and keeps going to forge an "x", the same orbit as star-crossed lovers.

Drip.

Drip.

His blood is now on their hands.

The tables have turned, the man now at her mercy instead of the woman at his. It's worshipful, his sacrifice. This first time, she can only cut a small part of him and only with his help, but that's just fine. She cries. She cries, but she won’t stop it. This means so much to him. Doesn’t that make it worthwhile? And somewhere, so evilly, doesn't he want it to make her feel good?

From the darkest depths of blazing hell, it is euphoric to be wanted so badly like this, behind the flames and blaring alarms. Someone sees her pain. Someone wants to rescue her. Through the smoke and screams, a savior is here. He will carry her away.

Like never before, the man soft, and praising, and encouraging. It makes this all the more sinful. “Just like that. That ain’t so hard, huh?” The soothing look upon face is more like one you may wear when you’re proud of someone, not that you are being mutilated by them. His tongue is honeyed, airy as a feather. “I told you I could take it.”

She is simultaneously so disgusted, so sick to her stomach, but undeniably part of her illness is from how her heart twists. So sweet, so terribly, she begins to appreciate the reaper's own appreciation for her. How could someone care this much? He offers his body to her. And what has she done to deserve it?

Merely exist in the way only she can.

“Whenever you want to hurt yourself like that...just find me," he repeats, etching a promise into her soul as he helps her etch his skin. He helps her hand fold on top of his once the act is done. The seal is made, and her lungs choke on his dedication. "We’ll make something out of it. Make it worth somethin’ besides just keeping you afraid of nothing worth your time.”

The words "I love you" don't matter in Hidan’s reality, only actions. Only the actions that hurt.

Even if it means that if she can never hurt, he’ll have to carry it all on his own shoulders. He can do that just for her. Just for Jashin and his angel sent from the stars. This is what Hidan has done today to deserve his eyes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, oh, oh yeah

Oh yeah

Oh yeah

Oh no

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#very very tempted to put in my favorite clip i made of my favorite youtuber #where she says you've entered the danger zone! #WEE WOO WEE WOO WHOOPS BITCH #YOU NEED TO TURN AROUND #youve entered: THE OH FUCK OH GOD ZONE #i know it could be a lot worse but that's how i feel about this chapter compared to any other writing ive done #hidan x reader #hidan imagine #akatsuki x reader #akatsuki x oc #songfic #aswtn fic #kisame is here and i love him as always but this aint about him

[kiwibirdlafayette]

chaos and balance- the capsize

"i don't think you understand what's actually happening here. If you'd just open your bloody fucking eyes, it's pretty obvious."

Chaos and Balance is a narrative playlist that basically comprises, in a chronological order, my headcanon for the progression of cTom Syndicate and cJordan's relationship through the course of S1, S2, the divorce arc (post-canon part 1), Mianitian Isles and the Aftermath (post-canon part 2, aka Gays on A Boat, Aitheaca, etc.) It started mainly because I really love the potential of using music to tell stories, and how lyrics can be representative of feelings seldom expressed any other way- based on both canon moments, moments I've interpreted as significant to their relationship/overall arcs, and little interludes I've written that take place in between episodes/"off camera" that connect things together in my head. All this being said, it is primarily headcanons, and is purely for fun. dont like dont read lmao

This specific being how keeping in the canon nonsense of capsize x jordan plays a role in cSyndisparklez from my pov :] enjoy!

(Red lyrics are representative of Jordan’s voice, green is Tom! Bolded black is both of them)

The shenanigans of Capsize happen just after falling for the villain,

in which Jordan is forced internally for the first time to come to terms with the fact that yes, he is in love with his friend/enemy/however you wanna put it. Despite how much he annoys him, despite all of his questionable behavior, despite it all, he has fallen head over heels for this absolute bastard of a man, and hates to admit it, but deep down has longed for a kind of affection that he could have.

I'll take my timeI'm not the forward thinker; you read my mind-

But a part of him still remains hesitant, and for one reason or another, refuses to give in, to openly admit it to not just others but himself. It’s at this point (I’ve written in) that Tom’s kissed him twice. The first, just a little peck on the lips he was able to brush off as a joke, just a hahaa ok cool bro that's funny. But the second time, as a cheap play by the zombie to get a purge kill having already caught the Ianitee off guard. It's irritating for sure, to have him weasel his way into free points by taking advantage of a distraction that worked a little too well, but why could he not get it out of his head? It hadn’t felt so wrong, actually, and… he had almost hoped it had been genuine. If it had been genuine, maybe he would have returned the gesture.

Better to leave it unsaidWhy can't I leave it unsaid

Instead they dance around it in banter, blathering on and on to one another in often complete nonsense, refusing to address what’s really on his mind. (You know I talk too much) He could confess, sure. But what happens then? All the meanwhile, Tom is scared he’s losing him. (As I hold your face, I can't find the words I need, and soon the opportunity is drowning)

Never someone all that good with words, he kind of hopes that Jordan will catch on. He has to catch on, sooner or later.. Right?Z

And then Capsize and the Ianitee pirates show up. To Jordan, it seems like she’s interested in him beyond him just being another follower of Ianite, and there’s his escape. Play along, play the part and maybe- maybe he’ll get over this.

You know my type, tightrope across the table I can't keep holding my breath

She seems to be into it. She’s responding to his flirting at least. See. He doesn’t need Tom. An Ianitee and another Ianitee seems more acceptable to him in his head, and maybe would be easier. That about, he’s not really sure.

New wave, no time Red velvet under pressure

But what Jordan does know is that he’s drawn to her. To him, it could be a way to forget about Tom. To the varied onlooker, it could just be that he’s happy to have another Ianitee around. Someone who can relate to his experience, someone who’s out to find their goddess just as much as he wants to. But he continues to conflate the two and pursue her in a way that he won’t realize for years is less than ideal.

It sparks my memory when we parked aside the shore, I kissed you there, the ocean air enchanting It escapes me quickly

Tom on the other hand, is for lack of a better word furious. Not in like a “I’m gonna murder this pirate captain for stealing my man” (because if he’s honest she’s one of the coolest people he’s met and he’s gonna befriend her whether Jordan likes it or not, with him claiming it to be ‘Mr. steal your gal’ which is??? Because does it really seem like he wants Capsize, if not as a spiteful thing)

When Jordan’s not around, Tom and Capsize hit it off, as she finds this zombie who doesn’t want to flirt with her at any given moment a lot more of an interesting person. As a Dianitee, he’s supposed to be their enemy, but for someone so supposedly dedicated to his god, he knows how to carve his own path away from being more than his god’s messenger- something she’s always admired in champions.

You call me poison, but you won't stop coming around- No, you won't stop coming around

For the purpose of perhaps getting Jordan to get the hint, Tom plays into their supposed love triangle, pretending to do things to ‘steal away Capsize’, only feeding into Jordan’s confusion. *Now Tom’s interested in her too? Is he trying to move on from me too? *- clearly to dense to realize Tom’s trying to get his attention back. She even admits to Tom that it's amusing that men seem to keep coming after her, when she’s very much more into women (abridged, but direct quote)

All I want is you- Your violet disposition, My unsound intuition

It all sort of culminates in that moment on Jordan’s ship where Tom, annoyed from his perch, watches his friend make an absolute fool of himself over Capsize, and decides to intervene, taking on the role of “fighting” Jordan over her. Capsize in a way is having a good laugh watching them roll around on the deck of the ship (I’ve drawn this, this is where it all started), starting to see it all sort of come together as to where Jordan could be coming from. At some point, Tom’s got Jordan pinned to the deck, and as one last desperate attempt at trying to communicate what he’s been trying to all along, he kisses Jordan, and much to his surprise, he kisses him back. They pull away, to Capsize’s approving nods, and it's all over.

(Jordan’s attempts at saving this are my interpretation of this conversation, aka one of my favorite chat threads of S1)

In the aftermath of all of that (If I had any semblance of a memory I’d pinpoint when exactly this interlude takes place, but im just ballparking it somewhere after Jordan dies in Tom’s vault bc Capsize doesn’t save him); in which he’s still thinking about what happened that day. Jordan reluctantly confronts Tom who spills it all. He tells him how much and how long he’s been in love with him, and how frustrated it made him that every time he kissed Jordan, Jordan never seemed to reciprocate no matter how obvious his feelings were. He’s tried so hard to make it clear that all he wants is Jordan, he wants to be loved back, he wants to be able to call him his lover. He did what he did in front of Capsize cause the fake ass courting set him over the edge because it pissed him off that Jordan would so quickly go after someone he just met just because she was an Ianitee or whatever to get away from him, because was he really that bad that Jordan had to try to hard to stay away from him? Tom knows he had himself to blame as well, but it felt like a step too far.

Always been looking for something to lose, when I needed something to hold onto.

(This sequence is followed by Pull Me Up, which. If you haven’t seen my CMV that’s the one xD)

Note. For my sanity I choose to perceive that any capsize x jordan moments following are more related to Jordan’s ‘holiest of all Ianitees’ attitude and feeling like he has to be her savior (which is a different aspect of his character arc from the romantic side, which is what I mostly wanted to focus on with this ramble, but i do touch on it a little. It's not as ever present as it could be because I haven’t found the right song to incorporate it into outside of Violet and Talk Too Much) But there is definitely more. This is from what i have notated in my stuff for these two sequences :] enjoy!

#FUCK #ok i finally finished this just. dont worry about typos #no beta we die like men #i had to use markdown for this because the colors on tumblr are atrocious im sorry #lafakiwi writes #syndisparklez #mianite by a gay man #chaos and balance- the story of syndicate and sparklez #no main tags for obvious reasons #characters. its fine yall dont need em #this doesnt need to b sorted into my character tags #if i forgot to expand on something ill add it back in later #put a read more bc this is technically 3 google docs pages worth of stuff its fine #song: talk too much by COIN #song: violet by bad suns #songfic #(?) #sorta #not really a fic tho #i dont know if i actually pickd up o what im supposed to but i can ensure all of this comes back into play in gays on a bat

[the-herdier]

There was a boy.

A very strange, enchanted boy.

They say he wandered very far.

Very far, over land and sea.

A little shy, and sad of eye...

But very wise was he.

And then one day...

One magic day, he passed my way.

And while we spoke of many things...

Fools and kings...

This, he said to me:

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn,

Is just to love, and be loved in return."

------------------------‐

Listening to this and imagining it's Hob describing a meeting with Dream at the tavern.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #i need a songfic with this please #hob gadling #morpheus #the sandman #Spotify

[budgetkoolaid]

i need more skater tim drake in my life, like fics art tiktoks ill take anything

#give him back his skateboard #where is it dc its been ages #he was a skater boy #i need more fics of this #tim drake #timdrake #red robin #redrobin #dc #bonus if someone makes a sk8ter boy songfic #timkon or timber idc #i just need more shit with him and his silly little skateboard

[stardusted-bookworm]

It ain't the being alone.

She'd been alone all her life. Had grown comfortable with it. Had known loneliness like an old friend. Had known. For never had loneliness wounded her the way it did now. She now knows that loneliness had left her long ago and had not been her companion since he walked into her life.

It ain't the empty home, baby.

She looks around at the house they'd called home. She is haunted by a memory. A memory of the rafters being filled with laughter and joy as he waltzed her around their dining room. A memory of the smell of spiced meats and mouth-watering dishes. Memories of endless hours of talking, of enjoying each others' companies as the fire crackled and the rain poured down outside.

These memories fade, leaving her in the cold, desolate house she had built for them. Portraits smile at her from the walls, cruel remembrances of a time no longer present. The fire no longer crackles. The stove no longer houses their cooking. And the floors remain un-danced.

You know I'm good on my own.

As she stares at a dent in the wall, she also remembers the endless fights. Him complaining that she was always gone. Shouting that she was never around. Her yelling back that she was around. All the time. That she should be allowed her own time and space. That she shouldn't need to be so firmly attached to him at all times that they fuse into one person. They had been born separate for a reason.

She remembers the silence after that. Should've predicted what came next.

You know it's more the being unknown.

He did not speak to her again, except for short words, curt answers. He was never in the house unless it was to sleep, and somedays, he did not even return for that. He no longer remembered the secrets they had shared with smiles. He no longer cared to remember her favorites, her laugh, her song. It was as if he was methodically un-remembering her.

And oh, how her heart broke at that.

And there are some people, love, who are better unknown.

She presses a hand to her chest, surprised to see it come away clean. The pain of her heart is so acute she believes she should be bleeding.

For it was not just the un-remembering. She had found out later, after he had left for the last time, that he had found someone new. Had wooed and courted this other with as much fervor as he had her. Had made them laugh, had danced with them, had enjoyed their company as ardently as he had with her.

It was then her heart cleaved. Was rent in two. Never to be mended. To be removed completely from his memory... to be treated as if she had never existed... No, there was no coming back from that.

It would've been better if she had never met him, she thinks to herself. For the good did not outweigh the bad.

She thinks back to how often he would dismiss her. Would not share in her excitement the closer they got to the end. Was it her fault? Should she have tried harder?

No. Her resolve hardens. The blame is not hers to carry. Not when he left the way he did. Not when he abandoned her before she even knew it was over.

She stands and looks at the match burning in her hand. She lets it fall to the ground and walks out of the burning house, burning the memories of him with it.

Nothing would grow on that patch of land again. She had ensured it. Had coaxed her magic back to her after years of suppressing it to make him happy. Never again would she debase herself the way she had allowed him to debase her.

She is the most powerful witch of her age. And the world would remember her power once more.

Starting with him and his pretty new bride.

#is this a songfic? #it started that way #unknown/nth by hozier gets me every time #i don't think i've ever listened to that song without crying #so i needed to write about it #i strayed off from the original intention of the song #but i believe everyone deserves to heal from heartbreak #and i guess if you think about it #the ending of this story is about redemption #similar to the message of first light by hozier #actually no it isn't #bc of the rage of those last few sentences #oh well #if you read the full thing i love you #if you didn't #i don't blame you #it was long #there is no fandom connection so people probably won't notice this one #but i enjoyed writing it so that's all that matters to me #ace writes #my writing

[alittlebitgoofy]

SO Reneè Rapp???!!!!

#my music autism tingling why did it take me so long to agree with Spotify that I’d like her #will be producing a cover of poison poison before I know it #on one hand song that’s kinda mean on the other I bring a tboy energy that all the bitches need in their life #winter rambles #also songfic ideas

[every-dayiwakeup]

Motherless Child

Sleep was no friend to Billy Hargrove. When exhaustion and Miller Lite finally join forces, he can't fight Mr. Sandman any longer.

He used to have dreams once. Now, he wakes up arms reaching out, screaming for his mother to rescue him. Sometimes when his eyes are blurry, he thinks he sees her sitting by him, smiling. Only for a split second, though. Maybe it's not a dream, but a memory tucked away in the dusty corridors of his mind.

His ears are trained to pick up even the slightest of sounds, which comes in handy for survival. Sleep, not so much.

The dark, and the emptiness inhabiting it terrifies him. He likes to sleep under his window, so the sun can shine on him, its rays embracing him in ways he desperately craves.

"Mi sol, did you know the sun is also a star?" she said shortly after tucking him in one night.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! As long as the other stars are able to find you, you'll never be alone."

"You fucking liar! I hate you! I hate you!" Billy screams, kicking his bedsheets aside, eyes scrunched shut.

Heavy footfalls burden the creaky floorboards outside his room.

Billy knows what's coming. But that doesn't make his stinging cheek hurt any less.

When he finally slips into an uneasy sleep, he turns his back on the stars. On Hope. Just like they turned their backs on him.

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child. A long, long way from home.

@mrsblackruby

@gracethieved

@ouizzyharringrove

@deedoop

@stevewhoreington

@wixterirox

@bowiebond

@eddiebillysteve

@talesfrom-theupsidedown

@local-redhead-bookworm

@skyesayshi

@onebrainsel

@suometar

@magellan-88

@dragonflylady77

@dragon1d

@cherry-sorry

@cherixsays

@spaceboxkitty

@angelshiba

@namorian

@billys-bitchh

@suspiciouslackofclowns

@justan-0-t-h-3-r

@thatawkwardlittlefangirl

#tw abuse #tw neil hargrove #reds writing #my fic #billy hargrove #this may be the shortest song analysis fic ive ever done #but it just came to me and i felt the need to write it #also billys mothers name is hope in this #im in my angst era i fear #songfics #been thinking about this song and billy since i heard it #Spotify #also if i forgot to add you to the tagslist im so sorry!!! my memory is really shitty sometimes

[idrils]

WHAT cringey dbz fics were you posting in 1999 spill the beans!!!

oh NO it's too awful, i was 10, i was in love with gohan, it was absolutely terrible self-insert stuff. girl drops into dbz world and bonds with the cast, has no trouble at all harnessing her ki to do fuckin anime magic, then there's a calamitous villain and only i have the true power to defeat him bc instead of fighting out of hatred or anger i'm fighting out of LOVE for my FRIENDS and my 10 YEAR OLD HUSBAND GOHAN

#dbz and gohan specifically were one of baby's first hyperfixations #like i legitimately was jealous of and hated videl (gohan's gf in the later seasons) bc i was like pff. she's not cooler than me #edit to add god i just remembered i had this inane habit of like insistently capitalizing things that didn't need it #like dragonball z was always DragonBall Z which. fine. but the B isn't capitalized in the source material why did i do that??? #it was the same with ki. it was always Ki to me. why???? no idea i was 10 and inscrutable #EDIT AGAIN I WENT BACK TO MY OLD FFN PROFILE AND THAT WASN'T EVEN THE WORST THING #APPARENTLY I DELETED MY 50K WORD MARY SUE OPUS. BUT WHAT I DID NOT DELETE. WERE MY ***SONGFICS******!!!!! #you know your girl wrote a songfic to ARMS WIDE OPEN BY CREED about vegeta learning he's having a son #i'll be waiting here for my accolades