Felt inspired to start writing. Dunno why. I feel depressed as fuck today. It sucks. Recurring depression sucks. But anywho, on with what people actually came here to read.

Drabbles for all.

Warning; language.

oOoOo

"You make breakfast."

"No, you."

"You!"

"Cooking is uncool!"

"Fine, we can just starve then." She will push him, gently in a rough way, letting him know, you're a jerk, but I love you more than anything.

He will grab her and mess her hair up playfully, those long blonde locks he loves so much, like he loves her, saying I know, I know.

Their love is like a flame. It will keep you warm if you tend it carefully, but will flare up or die out because fuck it, life's like that.

"Damn you, Soul."

She will meander into the kitchen, hair back up in it's perfect messy bun, pink tank top slightly askew, shorts hiked just the teensiest bit too high, and pull out all the things to make the goddamn breakfast because she goddamn loves him.

He will watch as she does, satisfied but also very much a slave to her will, because she never leaves his head, because he writes music for her and about her, because she holds him closely in her heart, so closely and so gently that he cannot help but return her love.

oOoOo

When he says, 'Be my partner."

She says, "Okay, BlackStar."

When he says, "Let's be the biggest stars in the Academy."

She says, "Okay, BlackStar."

When he says, "We're gonna defeat the Kishin!"

She says, "Okay, BlackStar."

When he says, "I think I have a problem."

She says, "I'll help you, BlackStar."

When he says, "I wanna ask HER out."

She says, "I'll help you, BlackStar."

When he says, "She broke my heart, Tsubaki."

She says, "I'll help you, BlackStar."

When he says, "I have no family left. I'm alone."

She says, "I love you, BlackStar."

When he says, "I'm dying, Tsubaki."

She says, "I love you, BlackStar."

When he says, "I love you. I always have."

She says, "I love you, BlackStar."

When he says, "Will you marry me?"

She says, "Okay, BlackStar."

oOoOo

Inspired by the song Skulls by The Misfits

I want your skulls, I need your skulls.

Liz hums it under her breath as she tidies up. It's hard not to when the house is covered in them. They are sleek and efficient, the kind of fancy thing you would see at a high end office. If there were such things as high end gothic death offices, of course.

No, the ones the tall demon gun is thinking of are the ones inside of him.

There are, of course, the static-like, black ones that are a part of the magic of being a reaper, that help him fight, that make him stronger, more powerful, and better able to protect Liz and her sister.

But the ones she meant were not those. She instead is thinking of the skulls that are attached to skeletons that are locked inside a very deep, dark closet inside of the meister. She knows he keeps a tight hold on himself, barely ever opening up, trying to keep it all inside.

She wants them. She wants them all. She wants to know their secrets, to hold them close and protect them just as he protects her. To cradle them carefully, not damaging, just nurturing, healing. Helping.

Instead, she cleans his house and cooks his food and helps him fight because she knows it is all she can do at the moment. But she will do it with joy, if it means that one day, just maybe, she will be able to unlock that closet, step inside and embrace whatever she finds.