#devilletting

(for sylvain lol) what pet peeves does he have, if he has any? sylvain usually plays himself as Cool as a Cucumber but we know the truth

Sylvain hates pointless tradition. Sylvain hates righteous stubbornness. Sylvain hates meaningless sacrifice. Sylvain hates injustice. Not that he keeps any of that a secret--But those aren't exactly pet peeves. They're too big, right?

In his days at Garreg Mach, one of Sylvain's biggest pet peeves is the pretentious bigheadedness of some of his peers. He really doesn't believe at all in any kinds of superiority. Classmates who view themselves as above others for no other reason than their birth or their skill annoy the shit out of him. Sometimes he'd goad people into sparring with him just to shut them up. (Not that it made much of a material difference--Anyone could say it was his Crest that made him a better lancer than an opponent, that he was a natural and hadn't worked hard. Even if it wasn't true, he never tried to activate his Crest when practicing. And for a long time he threw half his fights just to seem more lazy.) Another of his pet peeves is connected to the Blue Lions; He hates when they can't move on from the past. He remembers times in childhood with his friends as fondly as he possibly can but wants so badly to get beyond that part of his life. They're somewhere new! They can be better than where they came from! But he often feels like none of the Lions have reached that same point and it's endlessly frustrating for him. It's not that Sylvain doesn't understand, hell, Miklan appears to haunt him like a living ghost so soon after they start classes at the monastery, but he does, despite it all, want to grow. He may not always show it or be motivated to work on it (depending on his circumstances), but he knows how his life will go after school ends: He'll return to Faerghus and eventually take up his father's title and his short stint of freedom will be over forever. Sylvain wants to make the most of it. It grinds his gears to watch everyone else, to his eyes, waste this bit of time they have.

He also hates when people chew gum really loudly but if he's the one doing it to annoy people then it's awesome. He also hates it when people are pushy with him about studying. It's always students or teachers that assume he doesn't care about class or doesn't try at all. They don't ask, they just make assumptions. Another thing that bothers him a lot.

Sylvain is really good at fumbling relationships and it's usually incredibly on purpose. However, some of his pet peeves in any kind of relationship are hero worship and people who don't listen. Yes, Sylvain is pretty terrible about being loyal to his partners and he knows it, so he doesn't exactly expect great treatment from the girls he tries to go out with, but if they hero worship anyone--him or otherwise--it's an immediate breakup / dismissal. He hates when people are put up on pedestals. He's seen it ruin people's lives for all of his own. He knows it's not really fair, that people want to believe in heroes and in being protected and in the only system they've ever known, but it still pisses him off. And when it comes to being listened to, Sylvain is actually pretty sensitive about being heard. He's used to being taken with only a quarter of the seriousness that others are and he knows it's because of the disposition he's taken up. This is just his personality! When people refuse to hear him out or interrupt him or put down his ideas, he has two reactions that he oscillates between--Sylvain is either going to talk the person's ear off until they regret ever speaking to him or he stops talking entirely, smiling all the while. The latter reaction is more obvious to people who know him well.

@devilletting —- "we obsess. it's in our nature." / DEATHLESS. ↪ for vampire!genesis ♡

correction : obsession is human nature. people obsess over all sorts of small, trivial things: money, sex, sickness, fame. but the fact of the matter is this -- none of that matters when you're staring eternity in the face. but genesis is only a fledgling, she still remembers how it feels. now and again, it feels good to take pity on them.

he likes the city, and the way it never sleeps. it's the perfect habitat for a nocturnal animal. the artificial light of the bar hides her unnaturally pale skin, and the place is loud enough to drown out the thump - thump of all the heartbeats around her. well, almost. it's a distraction, at least -- she composes himself, flashing a charming smile at his newfound companion. oops! too much teeth.

"our nature?" genesis questions. he watches matt with her elbows on the table, chin propped up in the palms of her hands. "do you mean lawyers? i suppose you would have to be obsessive. the devil's in the details!" there's something special about her play - thing for tonight. so special, in fact, that he's considering letting the man live to see another day. matt is charismatic, friendly, and seems to have a brain inside that handsome head of his. he's already scoring much higher than most other humans genesis has the "pleasure" of meeting, and she's only been talking to him for about twenty minutes. none of this is what initially drew her towards him, though. the man is smartly dressed, well - spoken, and well - groomed. he's a lawyer. and yet, he's adorned in battle scars. there's a split down the center of his lip, genesis could smell it before she saw him, dried blood calling out to him across the cramped space. matt's knuckles, too, are bruised and dark, and when he turns his head towards the light, genesis swears she can see a gentle bump in his nose, the tell - tale sign of breaking, resetting. there's a story to this one. and goddess, genesis has been bored as of late.

she attempts to lean in closer (not to smell the blood, of course, don't be ridiculous, she has more self control than that), but as genesis approaches, it's like a wall has suddenly been put up between them. a wall that fucking burns. he jerks back suddenly, chasing safety and comfort, not caring how suspicious that might be. in the chaos, her eyes fall on a glint of silver peeking out from beneath matt's collar, and everything clicks into place. ah. i see. no wonder you're obsessive.

INBOX PROMPTS ╱ 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

Does exposure make something more palatable? Even with the most grotesque, hasn’t Will grown to have a taste for it? There was acceptance in divulgence even in the most drastic of circumstances. Despite that, he wants to believe that not everything can be stomach because it grows to become an acquired taste. There should still be things they do not simply get ‘used’ to.

“No matter how much time passes, certain things should always be detestable enough to never quite be comfortable with.”

𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘀. she was careful to never, ever cross them, because that’s when you get yourself in trouble. that leaves you vulnerable. clammy - skinned, karen once laid on the linoleum of some kid’s bathroom— she didn’t know who, some friend of a friend, or a girlfriend?, she was just there for free booze and so she wouldn’t be alone— and watched as her stomach emptied itself. she looked at the brown vomit on the ugly floor and thought about how much she’d fucked up. someone must have scraped her off the tile, because when it was morning, she was knocked out with a mouth full of cotton, sore - jointed, on a couch that smelled like shit and with missing time. there was dried vomit on the side of her face and in her hair. this is a better situation, karen supposes. it helps to put things into perspective.

grasping uselessly at the wall, when her foot fails to connect with the stair and she pitches forward, she expects to be met with a busted lip or bloody nose. instead, someone catches her mid - fall. something clatters down the stairwell. lifeless hair streaks her vision, even as she’s maneuvered so that her full weight is in those arms. from the corner of her eye, karen catches a flash of white at the foot of the stairs: matt’s leading cane, forgotten, and in favor of swooping in to save her. is she even worth saving? no, definitely not. but she doesn’t ask anymore why matt is so strong, and does not question how he knew that her knees were going out and that she could not make it up to his floor without hurting herself. all night, she’s ignored the bruise forming at his left temple. they don’t push one another, her and matt. he’s saying something to her, he almost always is, but she can’t make it out through the fluid rushing in her ears, from their impossible closeness, maybe.

karen folds up in his arms like a collapsible object; an art installation titled ‘woman on the verge’; and when onlookers gaze at her meaningfully they ask ‘ of what? ’; is it tears? or a mental breakdown? she reeks of whiskey and the kind of sweat fueled by adrenaline, sunk deep into the underarms of her button - down and she thinks she may have to throw this one away or at least wash it several times, so the correct answer is actually ‘on the verge of emptying her stomach in front of her boss’ but she keeps very quiet as she is carried up to an apartment that is not her own. if she weren’t so fucked up, this would be exciting. a promise of release of all the tension bundled up between them. but as it stands, she’s nauseous, and her head lolls against matt’s chest.

“ — thanks,  matt. ” she mumbles, half - muffled by the tender flesh of his neck. stubble pricks at her nose and mouth. there is the slightly stale scent of dried sweat and something sweeter and muskier, a cedarwood aftershave, maybe. her gratitude, though slurred, is punctuated by an appraising pat on his chest, not far from his heart.

each step feels like a wave thrown against her. she weathers the storm, but just barely. “ i guess i can’t take care of myself after all, not when it matters. ” the laugh that tears from her is more bark - like: spiteful and biting. her lips curl back. “ what a fucking joke. ” her teeth are very straight and white. they are made for winning people over. this is necessary, because her heart is a hideous black thing and her palms are wet with someone else’s blood. it doesn’t matter how many times she wipes them on her jeans, stumbling down dark roads and forests quieted by heavy snowfall, the stench remains, so everyone knows karen is a killer. she thinks she always has been. her nature is an immutable one. what could matt see in her? or foggy? she deserves none of this kindness.

➽ @devilletting says ; i had to do a lot of growing up quickly. (for your disgruntled wishlist!! matt is going through it and being bitter about his past to kate cuz hes in a bad mood lkjdslfjdskfdshf)

"Hey, I get it, okay? I was seventeen the first time I-- y'know, went out. Tried to do something." Of course, she's referring to her formal debut into vigilantism. It wasn't exactly smooth, and she has certainly refined it over the years, but that night had otherwise cemented a sort of rightness within her. Finally, an outlet through which to act. A way to seize control of some part of her life, and moreover a way to be something bigger than herself.

Kate huffs a sigh. There's an arrow she's been twirling through her fingers like a baton. At the agitation in her visitor's voice, she tucks the thing away. Now, this is a man she mostly just knows in passing, and a lecture from someone about a decade his junior might only serve to piss him off ... but that never stopped her before.

"And sure, this," a gesture to her gear, "was part of the growing up fast. But it was the part that I chose. You don't choose something like what we do, and keep choosing it, because you're bored, or rich, or talented. Some shitty things had to happen to get me here. So when I tell you I get it, I really do." Here she pauses to collect her next thoughts, regarding Matt rather earnestly despite her tone, but she's sure not to pause too long.

"I don't know what happened to you, and whatever it was I'm sorry that it still messes with you. I can hear it in your voice, you're bitter. It's easy to be bitter. Maybe you just had a bad night, I don't know - but what I do know is that you can't let it make you think you're too different. People like you, me, even Jessica... we're a little different, yeah. We have skills, and drive, and usually problems that lead us to act a way most people can't, or won't. But we're still just people."

It's almost a second city of scaffolding and fire escapes connecting the cluster of buildings they're on. The metal rattles a bit as Kate approaches his position, leaning against the railing there. To prove her point, or maybe just as a show of good faith, she produces a protein bar from one of her pockets and offers it to him.

"Be pissed if you're pissed, that's just life. But the second you start believing you're pissed, or hurt, or feeling anything in some kind of 'special' way nobody else can... that's a problem. I can commiserate when someone vents about a bad day. What I'm not gonna do, though, is listen to self-absorbed whining."

“ you’re preaching to the choir. life hasn’t been fair to me for a very long time, @devilletting . the world sucks, haha. ” there’s an uncomfortable air forming around this conversation. she twists a ring around her finger, a consistent reminder about what could’ve been, and what never will be. he was the exact opposite of her; morally righteous, a savior, someone who spoke for those who could not. and she, the silencer, the killer. she could never be like him.

“ guess that’s why you do what you do, eh? use what little influence you have to make things better, even by a small amount, ” she softens, “ its admirable. ”

˛⠀* “A lawyer, huh?” the woman mused lowly, piercing green eyes locked onto the ice currently shifting around in her drink. Scarred fingers carefully cradled the glass within her hands… almost too careful for a woman with as harsh of a presence as Kazu did. She never did care for lawyers. Anyone who upheld laws that were quite frankly beyond flawed was questionable in her book. This lawyer though… seemed odd. Very odd. Something about him was off, but Kazu couldn’t quite place it. (and oh, she did not like that feeling.)

MUNDAY: COLUMBO SPEAKS EDITION-ACCEPTING

"Well, uh...you know me, I'm happy wearin' the same sort of clothes every day. It's comfortable, familiar...no sense in changin' it now. 'Specially this raincoat of mine: Had it for years, and it helps me think straight. Y'know, there was this time my wife tried to get me to wear this new coat she bought me...'course I gave it the ol' college try, but, uh...it just didn't feel right. Feel more at home wearin' the same ol' thing.

"But the nice lady who helps me out here? Boy, I tell ya, she's got a different graphic tee for every day of the month, and I still don't think I've seen 'em all. Think me and her could come together on the pants and shoes department, she likes wearin' the same sort of thing, too-but those shirts? *whistles*...I can't even imagine."