#I'm dying due to lack of oxygen

[midnight-bay-if]

Okay, that ask with MC dying in RO's arms. I can't help but reverse-angst any angsty ask I see, so now I HAVE to.

What if despite the MC seemingly dying, the team managed to call an ambulance and for it to arrive fast enough to like manage to restart their heart and ultimately save them? What I'm mostly interested in in this scenario is how would the ROs act during the period of uncertainty of "will they wake up or not", and when MC finally DOES wake up and is fine (cause well, they could have woken up but with all sort of issues due to the lack of oxygen and what not).

I live for hurt-comfort!

(A little bit of hope can go a long way. Let's do this :D)

S: The wait is excruciating. It's a difficult ask for S to set aside their usual cynicism in favour of a more optimistic approach. In the army, it was customary to carry a letter for loved ones should the worst come to pass. S had to deliver more than a few of those letters. They still carry one themselves out of habit. Preparing for the worst like some paranoid doomsayer has become their second skin.

But just this once, they don't want to believe in the worst. They don't want to prepare to break bad news to loved ones, nor imagine the empty space you could leave behind. Perhaps your inability to give up has rubbed off on them. It's a quality of yours they are counting on right now.

Then, the doctor exits the room and smiles, and S knows that their uncommon hope has not been blind after all. You don't wake immediately, but S guards your bedside the entire time. It feels like a lifetime, but when your eyes finally wake, it takes all their strength not to immediately pull you into an air-restricting embrace.

Instead, they grasp your hand in theirs, clutching it tightly against their chest with misty eyes. When you finally speak their name, the tears finally spill freely.

"Thank goodness," they whisper, grasping your hands as if in prayer. I don't know what I would have done if..." They breathe. Deeply. "I fear a very long lecture is teasing the tip of my tongue, but I will do everyone a favour and keep myself gracious instead. Something to look forward to, my darling."

They smile.

Rain: It’s impossible to sit still. Plagued thoughts of pained screams and bloodied hands keep them pacing the length of the waiting room. The others are here too, but for once, Rain doesn’t have enough space inside their head for everyone else.

The pattern sound of their pacing steps keeps them grounded. It’s something else to focus on... because otherwise, the alternative is remembering every sordid detail of what happened to you, and that is too bloody unbearable.

How could they let this happen to you? Are they truly resigned to a life of regret forevermore? Regret was already a heavy enough weight for them to carry as is.

Then, the doctor spills the good news, and Rain rushes into your room, shaking. They didn't think they had tears left to cry, yet they fall freely once more. Red-faced with puffy eyes, they collapse onto their knees beside your bed, tucking their face into the crook of your arm... Honestly, they would be embarrassed if they weren't so happy.

"Perhaps we should consider retirement," they offer once their tears have ceased and they can force a smirk back on their face. "We could settle down by the ocean far away from Albach Bay and grow old together under a canopy of stars. Or we could get on a boat and become pirates. Mind you, the mermaids might pose a threat... Hm, I'll workshop it."

They are only half joking.

Taj: It's easier to be angry. So, as Taj watches the doctors and nurses rushing around as they busy themselves with their work, Taj seethes. They still taste the metal tang of blood in their mouth from the assailant whose throat they ripped out. It taunts them.

'You were too slow', it goads. 'You have always been too slow.'

Taj growls, subconsciously scratching at their own skin as they dig their nails into their arms. Their aggravation must permeate throughout the waiting room because the staff are giving them a wide berth. Sometimes, they'll spot a nurse giving them a pitying look and Taj will dig their claws in deeper.

It's all they can do to prevent clawing at their throats.

They don't understand. Taj has fought tooth and nail to find 'home'. S and Rain came along and provided shelter, but they found a home in you.

Taj would flay the skin of every potential threat before losing that.

All that anger, all that pent-up rage, begins to finally trickle away when the doctors give the good news. It still exists—it's still there—but it softens, as does the self-flagellation.

At your bedside, they wait. When your eyes flicker open, and you whisper their name, they finally breathe. "I always knew you were annoying, Koel, but I never pegged you as cruel."

Pouting, they grasp your hand in theirs and hold it delicately up against their lips. "Thank you," they gasp, barely breathing. "For not leaving me."

N: N is losing what little patience they actually have. It feels like days since they absconded away with you, and there has been no news since. What in Hael do they do here? There may or may not have already been a few incidents of cornering medical staff in a somewhat threatening manner to demand they prioritise you above all others.

It's not like there is anyone of greater importance in this hospital. N knows that to be true, even without knowing who the other patients are.

It's too tempting... to want to reach out to the dark recesses of your mind and pull you back, but then fear takes over. What if they reach out and you aren't there? What if they scream into the void, and all they hear is their echo? It would ruin them.

So, they wait and wait, and finally learn what it means to be patient.

When the doctors, still maintaining a cautious distance, finally break the news N has been so desperately hoping for, N breaks. They rush into the room, practically tripping over their feet in their haste. For a moment, they forget all about their image as a Prince of Hael and choose, instead, to embrace one simple truth; they care.

"Do try not to die in the future, my dear. I would be awfully put out if you did."

Umbra: If it weren't for the others, Umbra would be burning through the very heart of themselves to skulk, watch, and stand vigil in your room as the doctors worked. But it was S who rightfully pointed out that if you were to wake and Umbra had become less of themselves in the meantime, it would only bring you more heartache.

So, instead, they continue to practice trust. They are choosing to trust in your strength, in your stubbornness, in your desire to live. Even as their instinct to fight scratches at the back of their skull, they choose to believe instead. It's hard and getting harder.

Umbra knows if it weren't for the others, they would have already stormed your hospital room with savagery.

When the doctors finally release Umbra from their torment and share the good news of your stability, it's all they can do before Umbra is at your side. God grant mercy to the person who attempts to remove them from that point on.

Overwhelmed with emotion and with their fear no longer gripping their throat, they daringly climb onto the bed next to you. With hushed apologies, they gently rest their head atop yours, listening to you breathe.

"I never noticed before," they whisper, breath shuddering. "You breathe so deeply."

(I'm sorry sorry this took so long! I wanted to do it justice since it feels like a short sequel, lol. It's been a busy few days since we rescued a cat from a family member who had to move house. I may or may not be using them as inspiration for Taj, haha.)

[nyxthejinx]

ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ 1 | ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴡᴀʟᴋ

Wowowow another short and cryptic chapter!! If it doesn't make sense it means it's working :) it will- in due time. For now I just wanna smooch my loves 😔

[ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ ] You're not part of the script, they must get rid of you. But will the Hunters become the hunted once your true nature is revealed?

[ ᴛᴡ ] talking about dying in the beginning with some graphic description (lots of nihilism on reader's part), generic description of blood, smoking, Kafka lil kissie mwah, lemme know if I'm forgetting anything (it's 5 am 🙃) finally baby Blade enters the scene!!!

[ ꜰᴛ. ] Kafka x GN!Reader x Blade

[ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ] 718

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ.

If it wore a sword’s, a knife’s or a gun’s clothes. If it appeared as a bottomless pit, staring at the depths of existence, or if it looks like the ground inching closer the more you lose altitude.

You think of sidereal space and the cold it harbours, of those fifteen to thirty seconds necessary to run out of oxygen, of those twelve to twenty-six hours it takes for the body heat to disperse, in the lack of atmosphere.

You imagine how it would be to be torn apart, choked, burned, have your flesh chewed to its bones. You imagine a pain that finally ceases, once the body has been slaughtered.

Going to sleep without the risk of waking up again: you project the image in your mind.

Before Kafka bursts your little bubble, dragging you back into the elevator.

“Your death will not be vain, Drifter. It serves for a greater cause."

She smiles in the corner of your eye, pristine and serene as if she wasn’t asking —ordering— you to die for her cause. Kafka is an amazing dancer when it comes to sticking to the choreography, lest the outcome steer away from what her master foresees.

No matter what it takes. Who it takes: the script has been set in stone already.

Too bad death is the last of your concerns, and so are her empty, poorly crafted words.

“I don’t really care.” You shrug.

Kafka’s brows shoot up in mild surprise, but she’s chuckling the next second already. Her eyes wrinkle at the sides, her shoulders shake gently— the radiant darkness of her soul glows brighter than ever and she’s just something else, straight out of this world.

“Are you mad at me?” She inquires, unfolding her arms to run a knuckle over your cheek.

Trying to process her words feels so impossible under her touch. Your feelings have long faded like cheap colours, brush strokes watered down by time, flowing into a grey puddle at your feet. There’s something stirring inside your chest, you know it- but how can you name it when your skin tingles and your knees go weak?

It’s not fair. But you lean in anyway, letting your eyes fall shut briefly. “Does it matter?”

“Not really, no.” She sighs. “Frilly words won’t change a thing, especially yours.”

“A kiss would, though.” You place a hand over hers, flutter your lashes gingerly. “I’d die with a silly grin on my face.”

“That can be arranged.”

Her smiling lips lock on yours, gentler than last time. There’s no love, no passion, no longing nor lust— it feels like a sorry kiss, a consolation prize, a sop to prevent rebellion. But it’s also one to be broken reluctantly, as both her hands drag you deeper by the jaw and trace your cheekbones with unexpected tenderness.

Maybe there was personal pleasure hiding behind her sense of duty, that night. But it ends all too soon and you will never tell.

Kafka leans back, cleaning the smeared gloss from the corner of your mouth. You glance at the panel in the elevator, see that you’ve almost reached the final destination.

If the Hunter is saddened, she doesn’t show it.

She's busier rummaging through the pocket of her coat now, as she pulls out a cigarette tin you know very well; it’s yours, just like the smoke she extends to your lips. You hold it gladly, waiting for her to light it.

“It wasn’t my choice.” Kafka whispers, voice delicate like the flame of your lighter.

Once the cigarette burns to life, you don't waste time— you inhale until your lungs are full of cloves with a hint of cinnamon, until it invades your senses and makes your mind dizzy in a way that never gets old. It tastes of memories you can’t remember, dreams yet to be dreamed, but most of all nostalgia you have no reason to experience.

"I know." You exhale eventually, as your shoulders sag. “Just remember me, even if it’s meaningless.”

Kafka smiles yet again, brushes your cheek as her other hand returns the two items to you. Inside the pocket above your heart.

And your lips quirk in the slightest, before the elevator stops at the floor where your blood will spill.

-

"Another one like you, Bladie." Kafka ponders, staring at the merging skin of your freshly wounded neck.

The puddle growing at your knees and the crimson path staining your clothes would convince anyone that a life was taken, today.

But the iridescent purples and blues lining your blood tell another story.

The story of someone who's walked across this universe for many years. Centuries, millenniums even.

Someone just like him.

Who Blade sees smiling at him, as if his sword wasn't dripping with their blood.

"Not yet, so it seems."

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

[heissobabygirl]

Graves X Male!Top!Shadow!Reader

A/N: hey guys, noticed a lack of male reader Graves fanfiction so I'm here to (hopefully) kinda fill that void! Hope you all like it. This took me like a week but I love the song it's based around, I def recommend listening to it during the read if you haven't already! This was only read by my sister and she told me I HAD to publish it, so I am. Sorry if there are mistakes. Feel free to request if you like my writing. I'm only writing COD at the moment and I only write male reader (sorry ladies ;-;). Enjoy!!

The following contains ANGST and HORNY

DO NOT READ IF YOU DONT LIKE THOSE THINGS

Okay byyyye :)

Song to play while reading: Granite by Sleep Token

-------

Sulfur on your breath

Granite in my chest

You will never have to talk about it

You never want to talk about it

You tried justifying your actions in your head as you heaved the scolding hot tank lid up.

"Graves!" You called, smoke immediately filling your senses due to the proximity of the fire. It burned your nose and esophagus, causing your throat to constrict. "Phillip!" You can't help but go into a coughing fit. The cackles of embers ignited by the explosion seemingly mocking you. Taunting you for saving the man who created this mess for himself. Why were you bailing him out again?

Squinting your eyes and taking a deep breath of oxygen you dive into the opening. You fumble blindly through the ocean of smoke, trying to feel any material other than the metal interior of the tank.

Your hand brushes against what feels like the nylon threads of a tactical vest. Looping your fingers through the straps you pull with every muscle your body can spare.

Your body aches, the lack of oxygen dizzying your mind. You step to the top of the tank, heaving the body up with the force of everything you had left: adrenaline and spite. You pick the man up, hoping down, feet once again finding cement. You drag him a good distance away from the burning war machine, slumping him gently on the ground.

"Commander." Your voice is hoarse from coughing, "Commander don't you fucking give up on me." You straddle him, his blonde hair dark from soot and ash. It's smeared across his face, bonding with beads of sweat against his skin.

Your fingers tread down the path of his vest, finding the velcro belt to rip it off of him. Throwing it to the side, his neck is also covered in the black soot, almost like it was a growing infection. Drops of midnight sweat dripping down the dips of his muscles. Ripping off a glove with your teeth, you check his pulse. It's fading fast, the thrum of his heart dying as his chest fills less and less with each inhale. You know what you have to do.

You place his hands on his chest, locking them in place. Returning to his side you tilt his head up, pinching his nose to close it off. You place your hands over his, the sweat hanging to your skin as the warmth of his radiates through your palms.

–

Fury too damn late

Reason dislocated

Soon you'll never have to talk about it

You never want to talk about it

Your voices ring with animosity throughout Grave's home office.

"Don't tell me how to do my Goddamn job, Soldier!" His voice was stern, his gaze going from a soft expression to the deadly and stormy as he grew more agitated.

"Soldier? Really? Were not on the fucking field, Phillip!" You snark back, shooting him a vehement glare of your own. He just stares you down, his gaze burning into your own as you two clash.

"Oh, right! How could I be so stupid. You, Phillip Graves, could NEVER be in a meaningful relationship! All you can do is keep people at arm's length with some fake authority you hold over them! Get real Phillip! If you don't cut this shit out you're gonna die alone!" You couldn't gauge his reaction, it looked the same as before.

"And you don't care…do you?" Your voice is softer this time. The words float through the air tantalizingly, striking him in the chest. The walls he built were coming down in moments, but he'd never let you know. Your brows furrowed, knitting up at the inside corners. "You don't care about me, you care about this stupid fucking job. You care about getting the mission done, pleasing people that don't even matter-" your words shrivel up and die on your tongue, just like your spirit.

You can feel tears stinging at your lash line. Rage brews in the pits of your guts, teeth grinding together to curb your urge to deck your Commander in the face. You do the only things you can, you turn to leave.

"Hey-" steps thud throughout the room, starting slowly and growing closer together the closer your hand gets to the door knob. A hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around to look the blonde in the face. "You can say whatever the hell you want about me. But don't you dare say I don't care about you."

–

I was more than just a body in your passenger seat

You were more than just somebody I was destined to meet

I see you go half blind when you're looking at me

But I am

The music played softly through the car, drifting through the space that was nearly extinct between the both of you. Your hands on his hips, squeezing and rubbing your thumb in circles over the fabric.

The stubble of his facial hair rubs against your face, the scratch a ticklish but good feeling. His hands are around your neck, running his greedy hands wherever you may allow him.

You reach around to grip his ass, the flesh soft as he groans into your lip lock. Your hands snake back around, unbuckling his belt, running it through the loops and discarding it on the floor of your car. Your fingers make quick work of his jeans, unbuttoning them and pooling them at his thighs.

Your lips move to his neck, biting the soft skin as he jerks against you. You hold his hips still with your strong grip, kneading the flesh of hips. He mewls, the Phillip Graves mewls. "Fuuuuck." He drolls, his tone raspy.

"Can't believe you're this worked up already, Phil." He screws his eyes shut, tipping his head back.

"Shut up-" He stumbles over the words he's searching for. "You should just be happy you're getting this chance, Lutentiant." His hands grip your shoulder for stability, giving you a tight squeeze.

You hum, bringing your lips close to his ear speaking low, "Oh I'm so lucky. Fucking my Commander in my car because he couldn't wait to get home to whore himself out." You watch his throat Bob, Adam's apple moving with the action. The words coarse through him, straight to his dick. It throbs at your voice, seemingly knowing who it belongs to.

–

Between the second hand smoke and the glass on the street

You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave

You say you want me but you know

I'm not what you need

But I am

“You can say whatever the hell you want about me, but don’t you dare say I don���t care about you.” His eyes bore into your’s, creating a moment of silence that’s quickly shattered by you.

“Then maybe you should fucking act like it, Phillip.” The use of his first name makes him cringe. He hasn’t heard it from your lips in so long he forgot it was his. He spent so long, more time than you knew, clinging to every word you said. Committing your features to memory so if you ever left him he would have the lines of your skin mapped out so you could crawl inside his skull and be safe there.

Graves was no fool, he knew his line of work was dangerous, he knew he was walking on cracking ice everytime he stepped outside. With one wrong move, one missed sign, he would fall in and drown. A part of him always hoped you would save him, put an end to his reckless ways. That you pull him up, back onto a more sturdy section of the ice and he could steal the oxygen from your lungs that you would always so happily and eagerly give. You loved him after all.

But now, he could see the adoration you always swirling in your eyes when he was within your vicinity was dead and gone. Replaced by a dull and dreary cacophony of resentment and pain. He was smothering you, he had taken too much. There was nothing he could do to save you.

Even if he poured everything he had into you, filling you up with everything he had so greedily taken you were too broken to store it anywhere. Not your eyes, not your hands, not your heart.

–

When you sit there acting like you know me

Acting like you only brought me here to get below me

Nevermind the death threats parting at the door

We’d rather be six feet under than be lonely

The words coarse through him, straight to his dick. It throbs at your voice, seemingly knowing who it belongs to. He closes his eyes, screwing them shut. Hips rutting and stuttering against you to get any kind of friction.

“Stop teasing.” His tone waivers, brinking on the edge of neediness and desperation still. Your hands trace his figure, snaking their way up to his hair. You can feel it between your fingers, the strands dancing across your skin as you give a harsh yank. He grunts, his head tipping back with the pull of his hair. Your lips clash with his neck again, being gentle with your mouth work as you trail to his collar bones.

Your fingers undo the buttons of his shirt, the fabric lying dead as you discard it. His upper half is vulnerable for your eyes to devour; and devour your eyes do. Your gaze rakes over him, sending chills throughout his veins, his heart skipping for just a moment enough to be noticed.

“Thought you loved my teasing though. I mean, obviously you do. Look at this.” You palm his erection, the friction sending waves of heat through his nerves. It crashes through him with the force of the sun, clouding his headspace. The only visage he can conceive is of you. “Look at you.” Your voice is hushed, soft even.

“All worked up over a single touch? Remember to breathe, baby.” You chuckle.

–

If you had a problem, then you should’ve told me

Before you started getting all aggressive and controlling

You only drink the water

When you think it’s holy

Even if he poured everything he had into you, filling you up with everything he had so greedily taken; you were too broken to store it anywhere. Not your eyes, not your hands, not your heart. They had no room for him anymore.

“I’m leaving.” You break his thoughts, shattering them into a million pieces and scattering them across your shared living space.

“You never talk to me anymore, Phillip.” That wasn’t what you were supposed to call him.

“You hull yourself up here in your office, create these walls, create a mess-” you take a breath. He takes the opportunity to speak.

“Well, hey- Let’s talk this out, okay? Nobody has to leave anywhere-” he’s negotiating. Trying to gather the shards of his thoughts, collecting them and their jagged edges that cut and pierce his skin. In all honesty, they probably pierce your’s too. They dig into your epidermis, like a parasite, embedding themselves right out of your grasp. Only able to access them if you want to rip yourself apart, and you couldn’t bear to see crimson anymore.

“No Phillip.” You shut him down. “I’m tired of talking it out. It never works with you. Your words mean nothing to yourself and to me. You know this, I know you do.” Your voice sounds defeated and drained. The last ropes tethering you to him snapped and shredded to bits. But he would be damned if he didn't try to knot them back together, even with the fraying edges.

You couldn’t leave him, he would do anything for you to stay. He knew that, but he never revealed that to you. So how were you supposed to see his hurt, his anger, his desperation to make you stay. He would cement your feet in place if he needed to.

–

So keep an eye on the road or we will both be here forever

“All worked up over a single touch? Remember to breathe, baby.” You chuckle. Your pants had been discarded long ago, your arousal just as prevalent as his. Tucking your fingers under the hem of his boxers, you pull them down. His chest heaves as the cool night’s air hits his hard cock. Your hands find purchase on his hips once more, he throws his head back.

“Please.” He whines. “Please, I don’t care anymore, just fuck me please.” His voice breaks, the shift of his personality making you even harder.

“Of course my love. I’m so proud of you for begging for it like the good boy I know you are.” He nods, burying his face in your neck as you slowly split him open with your cock. His breathing hitches, the pace becoming erratic as you shush him. “Just breathe, baby. Tell me if it hurts.”

“Just-” His back arches as he reaches the end of your length. “Just move please.” His throat constricts as you snap your hips up, a choked moan coming from deep within him. He jolts when you hit the spot he loves the most, your name tumbling from his mouth like a mantra. It was the only thing he could remember at this point, the only thing he cared to remember.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” You pant, watching him as intently as the moment would allow. Your hand wraps around his dick, palm stimulating the tip as you move down the rest of his shaft stroking as well as you could using the precum as lube.

His hands grip tightly on your shoulders, bouncing himself with the rhythm of your thrusts. Skin making contact with skin resounding through the car’s space. His grip tightens, his nails sure to leave crescent shaped marks.

His moans are needy, guttural. “So, so good for me, love.” Red dusts his cheeks as you speak, keening at the parise you’re giving him. You can tell he’s about to come undone. The way his bounces stutter and his body jolts at the contact, he’s close.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me.” You grab his face, turning his head to look at you. The blue of his eyes meet yours, his pupils blown wide as he looks dazed. God you loved when he looked like this. “I wanna see your face when you cum, I wanna see that pretty fuckin’ face.” He nods the best he can, whining at words coming from your mouth. God he can feel you reaching so deep inside of him, scratching the itch that burns within like nobody else could. The way you snapped your hips hypnotized him, the only thing he could focus on was your voice.

He felt himself teetering on the edge, pushed to climax by a powerful thrust of your own. White spurted all over his toned stomach and you. His body shakes and convulses, your hands never leaving his hips as he slumps forward onto you. His face finds your neck again as you chase your own high, unintentionally over stimulating his senses. His legs shake something fierce as you cum inside him, the warmth spreading through his entire being.

Your arms wrap around him, bringing him as close as humanly possible. Smoothing your hands down his back as he twitches and pants.

"You did so well baby. So well."

–

I was more than just a body in your passenger seat

You were more than just somebody I was destined to meet

I see you go half blind when you're looking at me

But I am

You place your hands over his, the sweat hanging to your skin as the warmth of his radiates through your palms. You steady your breathing, leaning down and connecting your lips. You've done this so many times before, moments that felt like life or death but this was different. This was life or death. You breathe into his mouth, his chest rising with oxygen from your own lungs.

Your hands move to his chest, using your weight to press down intermittently but harshly. Afterall, good CPR cracks the ribs. That's just what you did, the sickening crunch fills your ears as you keep administering CPR. After thirty compressions, you move back down to his level. You're getting ready to fill his lungs again when he sputters a breath.

"Baby? Baby, can you hear me?" You cup his face, steading his head and neck. He groans, hand reaching up and attaching itself to your arm.

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay, we're gonna get you out of here." You smack your radio, static fizzing on the other side.

"This is L.T. (L/N). Does anyone copy?" You wait for a response. "I'm in need of immediate medical aid, I have Commander Graves. I repeat, I have Commander Graves."

A moment of silence passes, and just when you're about to give up a voice answers you.

"We copy, L.T. We are inbound to your position right now. ETA 3 minutes out." You breathe a sigh of relief, the adrenaline in your body starting to disappear. Graves look at you, his hand never leaving your arm. You sit next to him, finally turning your attention to the wound on your side. The giant gash now causing a noticeable gnawing pain that radiates from the sight through your whole body.

"Fuck." You mutter, shifting your weight painfully

"You're hurt." Graves' voice rings through your head. His voice hoarse from misuse.

"Yeah, that fucker Ghost got me." You say, sucking in a breath as you apply pressure to the wound. "Atleast I think it was him based on the height. Managed to nail my side with a Shotgun blast." The wound was bigger than your hand. In the little time you've touched it blood has stained the skin, the crimson you're so familiar with the last sight you may see.

Graves is silent, studying your face as you lie next to him, your hands interlocking. You bring his knuckles up to your lips, kissing them softly. These three minutes seem to drag on for eternity. Your vision fading around the edges, you close your eyes trying to focus on your pained breathing.

"Hey," Graves finally speaks.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Between the second hand smoke and the glass on the streets

You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave

You say you want me but you know I'm not what you need

But I am

"I love you too, Graves."

[bettathanyou]

The Aftermath Of Being A Hero

Y/N x Cedric, Based on the fanfic "The Master Wand" by @shychick-52

A fanfic of a fanfic, y'all. Based off of @shychick-52 's A03 work, "The Master Wand", AN AMAZING FANFIC IF YOU HAVENT READ IT GO DO IT RIGHT NOW. It's still a work in progress, but after... Certain events, I needed to write something to comfort Cedric cuz my heart hurts too much.

Also, yes, I did spend a stupid amount of time researching 19th century/modern day rib fracture treatment. Also symptoms. For the sake of a fanfic of a fanfic. Sue me!

Anyways enjoy, shout-out to everyone else who read @shychick-52's work and deserves financial compensation.

Warnings: blood mentioned, alluding to injuries, implications of medicinal drug use

The days following Cedric's return back to Enchancia were... A blur, if he's being honest. It still felt surreal that he was back in his tower again, completely untouched from his absence as if it never happened to begin with.

Oh, how Cedric envied it.

Every breath was now a painful reminder of what he endured, and of the vile things he had to do for Sofia's survival. Every shadow felt like a trap waiting to be sprung on the sorcerer, dragging him back in chains that rendered him helpless.

Hell, he can't even look at himself without the evidence of those haunting events written in black and blue bruises across his eye and face.

The entire kingdom hailed him as a hero, again, and the newfound respect Cedric had been given these last few weeks is now "forever immortalized", as King Roland declared.

Cedruc glanced down at the specks of red against his fingers from another coughing fit, grimacing.

Respect was a hell of a price to pay, as he's come to know now.

Not that respect was the main fuel for his actions, anyways. Cedric had long since made peace with dying, if it meant Sofia was safely returned home without a scratch. Truthfully, he couldn't imagine a way to do that without laying down his life, but...

Now Cedric has to deal with the aftermath of being a hero, again, but this time didn't feel nearly as gratifying; if anything, Cedric felt like a fraud.

"...Am I really a hero after doing such awful, terrible things?" Cedric questioned himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. The lingering silence was his only response, of course. Cedric fidgets restlessly, the lack of an answer mirroring the uncertainty stirring in the sorcerer's heart.

Needy for a distraction from his thoughts, along with his broken rib, Cedric takes a drag on his pipe. Each inhale felt like both a blessing and a curse. He knew that smoking with a broken rib wasn't smart, given the breathlessness he's already experienced due to his injuries; but willow bark tea does little to nothing for his pain, and Cedric isn't going to accept whatever brain numbing nonsense, like opium, a doctor would prescribe.

May as well get some relief if I'm damned either way, Cedric thought to himself, shrugging as he takes another hit.

He sputters out the smoke with a fit of short, painful coughs that quickly give rise to wheezing. Cedric's coughing had only gotten worse as he returned home, the restrictive tugging on his chest growing by the day; equally, to the darkening of the bruises and swelling on his left side.

The sorcerer covers his mouth with his sleeve, feeling lightheaded from the struggle to just force oxygen back into his lungs. Tears began to build as he coughed, at first from the physical pain; the stabbing, radiating burn and soft clicking of broken bones felt as if Grimtrix was digging his foot into his side, over and over again.

But what really stole the breath from Cedric's lungs, was the foul tang of his own blood in the back of his throat. The sorcerer can't help but gag; he wasn't squeamish by any means, before the Order. But now, the taste, even the sight of blood was enough to make panic take control of his heart.

Cedric didn't really know when the coughing slowly started to dissolve into weak sobs, but the tears were falling, plip plip plip, as hot and heavy as his own blood from his lips.

His free hand scrambled to hold onto the workshop bench, leaning forward onto it for support until the cough spell faded.

Just as the lanky man was regaining his composure, a knock at his door made Cedric nearly jump out of his skin.

A strangled yelp catches in his throat, and if Cedric wasn't so pissed off at the sudden interruption, he would've been embarrassed by such a noise leaving him.

The sorcerer waves his hand with a soft curse towards the heavy oak door, not having the energy or care to bother greeting whoever it was. Cedric had it made up in his mind that he would just give them what they wanted, then swiftly kick them out again.

He turns to glare at his unwelcome visitor, honestly expecting one of the royal children or a castle staff member.

Before he gets the chance to speak, however, Cedric's mind immediately blanks when his caramel eyes meet yours.

"...I wasn't bothering you too much, I hope?" You offered with a nervous, apologetic smile. Cedric had made it clear that he felt fine enough to resume work like normal, and DIDN'T need any doctor's aid for his injuries, and you wanted to respect his wishes, of course.

Although your own anxiety had won out anyways, which has led you to knocking on the sorcerer's door.

"No, not at all."

Cedric replies with a tight smile, which makes your heart sink.

"I just- wanted to check up on you. I know you said you're fine, but, well... You know me."

You rub the back of your neck as you eye Cedric with a knowing look, which melts his stern face with a tiny smile in reply.

"I'd like to think so, my dear."

He replied back, suppressing the urge to cough as his breath waned. The sorcerer clears his throat, trying to downplay it. You notice how he doesn't really answer

And I know you too, Cedric. You think to yourself after a moment, your eyes leaving his to scan his body properly.

You saw how torn up the sorcerer was when he first returned- despite your pleas to help him, he insisted to be left alone, that he was fine.

Now, you weren't sure if he looked any better or worse since that day.

At least he wasn't covered in so much blood this time.

The dark circles usually under Cedric's eyes have somehow gotten more dark, making it appear like he has two black eyes instead of one. The gash on his forehead has been bandaged, at least, but the linen strips are already beginning to unravel. Your gaze settled over to his hands, wringing in a nervous habit, thick bandages surrounding the base of his knuckles and fingers.

You didn't glean any details from Cedric yet, but you heard enough from the rumors flying about the castle from what Sofia recounted. Cedric got beaten up, bad, and it showed.

I can't imagine what else he's hiding underneath that robe... You think to yourself, swallowing the dread as you step forward and approach Cedric.

The sorcerer watches you with wary eyes as you come closer, not really making a move to embrace you.

You pause for a moment, a tense silence filling the room from a million things left unspoken between you both. You look up at Cedric, eyes searching for... You don't even know, really. Confirmation, that he really is okay?

Or that he actually isn't, because who would be? How could you even begin to console him after such horrors?

You exhale through your nose, but shove your insecurities aside. Your hand rests on Cedric's arm, squeezing it gently. Your palms rub up and down in soothing motions, feeling how tense his body was underneath your touch.

"... Your bandage is starting to come undone." You whisper softly, lifting your hand away from cedric's arm to free the strands of silver hair sticking out from the gauze.

"I know."

The sorcerer sighs wearily, turning to rub his cheek and avoid the concern etched on your face. Cedric felt the dull ache of unshed tears behind his eyes, pent up from the thick wall of his defenses.

"I'll fix it later- you don't have to worry, darling." Cedric mutters, inhaling sharply in pain as another chunk of hair was unraveled from the loose linen wrappings. He squeezed his injured hand shut, resisting the urge to flinch and make his discomfort be known.

You frown in turn, exhaling softly in slight exasperation.

"I'm already worried, Cedric."

Bits of dried blood still clumped at the ends of his hair, the white locks stained a rust color. It was evident that the bandages were made in haste, and haven't been properly looked after since. You knew Cedric was a perfectionist to a fault, and the feeling of loose cloth rubbing against his forehead would've surely made him go crazy by now.

Something was definitely wrong here; your gut was right. Cedric wasn't taking care of himself at all- instead opting to isolate in his tower, until he can properly mask his own emotional disarray from others.

Cedric shrivels under your piercing gaze, knowing that the effort to pretend to be okay was ultimately fruitless. Yet he still does it, like a bad habit he still can't quite shake off. Guilt begins to gnaw at him, and he shifts in place restlessly.

You grab his hand, seeing his anxiety and offering him relief through your touch. Cedric intertwines your fingers together, his thumb caressing yours. The silence wasn't so dense, now.

If felt opposite, in fact- fragile, like one word would shatter the sorcerer into a million tiny pieces.

He takes in another painful breath.

You hear the slight wheeze in his following exhale, and it pricks your heart. Gently kissing his unbandaged fingertips, you try to impart love and care into his skin, to show that you're here, with him, and he can trust you.

"We need to change those bandages together... alright?"

Your gaze lifted upward towards the sorcerer, desperation and love swirling together alongside the welling tears in your eyes.

Cedric swallows, hard, trying to keep up the facade of composure. As if there was any more room within himself to stuff down the tears, or the lingering sense of doom and panic that keeps him up at night, or the inevitable feeling of his soul cracking and splitting in half, much like the broken rib lying in his chest.

Which is why, with only a quiet sob, Cedric says, "I know."

________

You gather the remaining ingredients and supplies necessary from Cedric's workshop into your arms before dutifully walking back to the washroom. Cedric was sitting on the floor, the cold tile pressing into his thighs grounding him still to reality. He heart was racing, the fear of your reaction making him almost regret agreeing to this at all.

But seeing you round the corner, supplies in tow with your arms barely balancing it all made a smile creep along his cheeks.

You huff, placing everything down haphazardly on the edge of the sink. Bandages, tinctures, a wound salve Cedric uses for everyday accidents, scissors, alcohol, a couple rags, and a small bucket were amongst the lineup of things you had prepped.

"Spared no expense, I see..." Cedric commented, trying to crack a joke to keep his fear in check.

You smile to yourself, then turn to Cedric.

"For you? Always."

That got Cedric to genuinely smile, his previous fear transforming into soft butterflies in his stomach.

After washing your hands thoroughly, You kneel down in front of him, scissors in your hand.

"I'm going to cut away the old wrappings first, okay?" You lightly touch Cedric's cheek, and he responds by giving your hand a quick kiss, followed by a nod.

You get to work cutting through the loose linen, your heart racing by the second as the cloth gets more stained with the rusty color of dried blood.

Carefully peeling away the old bandage from his forehead, you gasp at the clotted blood and hair sticking to the gash, a semblance of a scab forming at the edges. The skin around it was smeared with blackish brown blood, mixing with the bruises lingering on his brow.

"Cedric..." You whispered in anguish, your face falling.

The sorcerer hangs his head, and you tear your eyes away from the injury to grab a rag, dipping it into the warm water gathered in the bucket you brought in.

You wipe the mess on his forehead clean, Cedric wincing underneath you. The sound breaks your heart of course, but you knew you had to keep going. The wound could've easily gotten infected by now, and the idea of letting that happen to him made you angry- at him, for not letting you help in the first place; then, yourself, for not acting sooner regardless.

But that anger doesn't hold a candle to rage you felt towards the people responsible for this.

"...Are you alright, dear?" Cedric asks in a small voice, his finger touching your arm as it works on his head.

You sigh, heart breaking. Of course this sweet man would ask- always concerned about the needs and emotions of others around him, even with his head split open.

"I should be asking you that-," you reply, frustration seeping into your words more than you liked. You feel Cedric's sad eyes burn into you, not knowing how to reply.

You turn away, unable to bear those brown eyes that make your heart ache.

"I'm fine, love. Really, I... I just." You stop, unable to find the words to say that could explain yourself. You sigh loudly, leaving your sentence hanging midair as you turn to the sink to change the subject. This wasn't supposed to be about you, anyways.

"I don't know what to put on your gash... I kinda just grabbed stuff." You muttered, gesturing to the bottles you've seen Cedric grab a few times when accidents injured him.

Cedric doesn't even lift his head as he replies, "The yellow jar- with the mismatched lid."

You grab it, returning to his side. Cedric stares at the lid that squeaks in the way that always annoyed him, because he lost the damn lid due to an explosion, while patching up another, different injury.

He feels the familiar ointment be pressed into his skin, and a pained groan leaves him at the biting sting of it. Cedric leans further into the wall, and you cringe apologetically.

"I'm sorry- should I stop?"

"No, no- just, make it quick, please." He says through gritted teeth, and you quickly cover the rest. Grabbing the rag, you clean the dried bits of blood out of his silver bangs, until they get back to their soft white-grey color.

He exhales in a sigh of relief, but that triggered a coughing fit as his bones creaked in protest. He doubles over, the wheezing taking hold as his entire frame shakes with the force of his coughing.

"Cedric-?!" You cried in concern, staring helplessly as the sorcerer continued to struggle to inhale. The pain stabbing in his lung felt like his side was on fire, and his hands scrambled to grab the rag on the floor to cough into- tasting the metallic tang already climbing up his throat.

You see the blotches of red staining the cloth, the air in your lungs stolen.

"Cedric..? You-"

"I know, it's bad." He grimaced, cutting you off as he groaned.

Seeing your skin blanch, he's quick to console you.

"It can't be helped- broken ribs sort of do that, I suppose!" His voice cracked like his rib as he forced out a laugh, hoping you would crack a smile.

You didn't.

"If you knew it was bad, why did you say you were fine! You can't just hide a broken bone from me, Cedric!" Your voice hardens, brow furrowed deeply as your gaze holds on the fresh red specks on the rag.

"....I know- I'm sorry, (y/n)." Cedric shoulders droop, his arm cradling his inflamed side as well as his wounded heart. The guilt cut clean through him, and there was nowhere to hide from your piercing eyes that always stripped him down to his most vulnerable.

Cedric cuts through the silence first, tracing the grout between the tiles of the washroom floor.

"I know I should've said something. I know I should've- asked for help..." Cedric sighs, painfully.

"I just... I couldn't. I couldn't keep looking at it- the bruises, the cuts, the- the blood..." Each word makes the sorcerer tremble further, cringing at the rag in his hand. Another piece of evidence damning him to that same night, where he was beaten half to death.

"Everything since that day has reminded me of it, somehow. I just- I don't know, I didn't want to see you, or anyone else, to see me like this. Broken."

Your frown deepens, then your eyes, soften as you process what Cedric said. Your own tears start to form, and you regret snapping on the man. He was already hurting enough, and now instead of helping, you were making it worse.

"Or, having to see the way you're looking at me right now." Cedric added, lifting your chin away from the rag, your eyes crashing into his sweet caramel brown irises.

You hold each other's stare, until you break the silence next.

"How am I looking at you, Cedric?" You ask, voice soft and apologetic. You trace the curves of his cheeks with your hands.

"Like you blame yourself..." Cedric replies in a melancholy tone, his sad eyes locking with yours.

You swallow the urge to apologize on instinct, but a small "I'm sorry," leaves you anyways, turning your face away to take your eyes off him.

"Don't apologize, (y/n)." Cedric catches your face in his hands, turning you back to him.

"I thought I wanted things to just go back to normal- you know. Before, everything happened..." Cedric's eyes darken, but he presses on.

"But it seems like no matter how much I want to avoid it, I can't. Don't have much choice, really." His flicker down to the bloodied rag, damning him once again.

Your eyes track his, biting your lip in a concerned pout.

"You don't have to do it alone." You offer gently, resting your hands on his shoulders, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

Cedric smiles, grasping your hands in his and squeezing them back.

"I know; I'm sor-"

Cedric gasps as his sentence is swiftly cut off by your warm lips. He melts into the kiss, his hands cupping your face. For a brief moment, it was like all the pain and tension bound to his body faded with each brush of your lips together. Cedric can't find the strength to pull away, needing every passing second to last longer.

You feel him finally relax, and you kiss him a few seconds longer before you have to part for air.

Cedric cough slightly trying to catch his breath, the pain making him flinch a little while he hugs his side.

You noticed, playing with the seams of his robe.

"Let me see?" You coaxed nervously.

"It's not pretty, darling..." He replies with a sigh.

"It's you, so that's clearly not true." You retort without missing a beat.

That got Cedric to relax a little, a small smile spreading across his cheeks.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Cedric smirks, but his eyes still are wary.

You kiss his cheek, shrugging off his robe.

"Don't worry about it. I'm here to help." You reassured him, stripping him down slowly and apologizing every time he winced from the crack of his ribs.

Shirtless, you lift Cedric's arm out of the way. You can't stop the gasp of shock that leaves your mouth; purple and green splotches lined up Cedric's side, as well as in clusters all over his chest and arms. It makes your eyes sting, and your heart prick, looking at the extent of the damage.

"Oh, Cedric..." You breathed out, your hands barely brush against his bare skin, afraid to even touch him.

"Told you so." He replied, chuckling awkwardly.

"...I'm not going anywhere. We need to ice this." You speak firmly, steeling yourself to treat Cedric further.

"Allow me, then." Cedric straightens up slightly, eager to flaunt his magic. He mumbles the magic words, an ice pack manifesting in your hand.

"...Thank you, love." You reply, pressing the cold pack against Cedric's angry looking bruises.

Cedric groans instantly from the contact, and you aren't sure if it's in pain or relief. His body seizes up a bit, and before you can pull the ice away from him, he rests his gloved hand on your arm.

"I should be telling you that..." Cedric mused, rubbing soft circles into the crook of your elbow.

"You don't need to. It's what I want to do- by making sure you're okay."

You smile, kissing the tip of Cedric's nose.

"...I will be, as long as I'm with you." Cedric sighs, feeling content for the first time since he returned to Enchancia.

He pulls you into his lap, then shortly into another kiss. It was sweet, and soft, and perfect.

"I think I feel better already, love." Cedric eyes you with a flirty smile, and you laugh, a sound that lights Cedric up from the inside out.

Yeah.

He was going to be alright.

[giggly-squiggily]

Could I request some Korekiyo x reader hurt/comfort? Like it gets REALLY FUCKING ANGSTY (As angsty are you’re comfy with :3) and then it gets resolved at the end? (Maybe throw some tickles in there 👀) thank you!

WHOO BOY- when I tell you I read this and said "Challenge accepted", I wasn't kidding! This..is really angsty hehe. Due to the contents of the fic, I didn't feel right putting tickles in, but there is a decent amount of comfort hopefully somewhere in the mix? Either way, I hope you like this angsty Korekiyo fic anon! (and if you'd like, I'd be more than happy to write tickles for Kiyo as I'm slowly falling back in love with Danganronpa and miss him)

@sevenincubistolemyheart @giggly-toybox

CW: Danganronpa V3 chapter 1 spoilers, angst, panic attacks, graphic depictions of the first execution, grief, loss, angst, mentions of illness, mentions of death (also we're ignoring parts of canon because I said so)

The crash of the piano closing rattled you. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. Around you everyone seemed to fall mute. You could see them talking, crying, shouting, but you didn’t hear a thing. All you could hear was the broken notes of Der Flohwalzer as Kaede slowly died before all of you.

You needed to get out. You needed to run, to flee from it all. You turned, slipping on your feet as you bolted. Bodies- there were too many bodies. The room was too hot, you couldn’t breathe-

Her body swung like a metronome. Long blonde hair hung in her face, hiding the anguish remaining. The lid of the giant piano slowly fell forward-

Your stomach turned. You clung to the wall as you tried not to throw up, head spinning with lack of oxygen. You were gonna pass out right here and now. Falling to your knees, a blood curdling scream ripped out your throat. How’d you manage that without any air you could only wonder.

“Don’t go dying on me now!” Were her last words, tears dripping down her face as she looked at each and everyone of you. Kaede- her beautiful smile wrecked with grief. She mouthed to you a soft goodbye just as-

“(Y/N).” Who was that? Who was talking right now? You couldn’t see- the world suddenly went dark. You heard your name shouted once more before your head hit the cold hard ground.

~~~

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room.

“Forgive me.” The voice from earlier spoke, so gentle but so startling to your shaken form.. “We only have access to our own rooms. I couldn’t get into yours, so I brought you to mine.”

Daring a peek, you found Korekiyo kneeling by the bed. He was a good distance away, dripping the last few drops of tea into a mug with careful hands. He was always so wrapped up- you could see the bandages were fresh. “Tea? It soothes the soul.” He held up the cup to you.

“Tea…right now?” You almost laughed. Then you did laugh, a hollow bitter sound. “Kaede just died and you’re offering me tea?” You smacked the cup out of his hand, sending the contents spilling across the floor. “How can you be so calm after- after all of that just happened?”

Korekiyo looked at the discarded mug, watching the hot liquid melt into the floor. Then he reached around him, pulling out a towel. “I had a feeling you’d do that.”

“If you did, why bother offering- What are you doing now?” You yelped when he pressed the towel against the stain. “That’s hot! You’ll burn yourself!”

“I’ve done it before.” He spoke casually, but you were already on the floor, taking his hand away from the damp towel before it could touch him. “Really, it’s not that hot.”

“Shut up. That mug was steaming!” You held up his hand, looking for wet spots through the bandages. “I think I burned my hand when I-”

That’s when you felt it. The slightest of tremors. Staring at his hand, you watched it shake within your grasp, the muscles tensing in his arms. They were so clammy beneath the bandages.

“You’re shaking…” You mumbled, looking up at his face. At first glance he seemed calm, but you could see it. The darkness in his eyes, the paleness of his cheeks above the mask. “Korekiyo…”

“Apologies. I meant to be comforting you. You passed out in the hallway- we all assumed the worst.” He muttered, gently taking his hand out of yours as he carried on dabbing the spill. The towel was no longer steaming, but you suspected it was still hot. “I don’t blame you- a sight such as that can be rather…”

“Terrifying.” You finished when he couldn’t go on. Your heart broke when he nodded, something of a shaky exhale could be heard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s quite alright.” He reassured, but it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. Reaching out, you began to gather the pieces of shattered mug, waving him off when he started to protest. “I don’t care if I get cut.”

“...” He didn’t have much to say to that. When the spill was gone and the mug pieces were discarded, the two of you sat facing one another, you leaning against his bed and him kneeling before you. “I’m aware this is a…rhetorical question, but..how are you?”

You snorted, then immediately felt bad. “Sorry. I’m…better? No- not really. I’m numb. But I’m not gonna pass out again if that’s what you mean.”

Korekiyo nodded, and the silence continued.

“Was this…your first time? Witnessing death?” He asked, something small in his voice that put a stopper on your snappy retort.

“Was this yours?” You asked in return. Korekiyo seemed to sink into himself.

“My sister…I was there in her final moments. It wasn’t as…violent as Kaede’s.” He stammered some, as if saying her name was difficult. Hearing it was just as bad. “But it felt like it. It felt far worse, if I’m being selfish. She went so quietly and yet…”

“Her loss is so loud.” You finished, reaching out and grabbing his hand. It was shaking again. You squeezed it. “How did she die?”

“...Illness. She had grown weak so fast.” Korekiyo seemed to tremble. Tears rolled down his masked cheeks, leaving wet lines along the fabric. “One day she was smiling and sitting up, the next she couldn’t open her eyes. She just…left.” He choked out the last words with such grief it brought tears to your eyes, blurring your vision of him. “F-Forgive me…I shouldn’t be speaking of her right now. We just lost Kaede, and yet-”

You had closed the distance so fast. You weren’t even aware you were doing it until he was wrapped in your arms, your face pressed into his shoulder as you held together his fragile core. “It’s okay.” You whispered against his shoulder. “It’s okay to grief her too.”

Something broke then. Arms wrapped around you tightly as Korekiyo let out a sob. It wasn’t long before you were both crying, grieving the loss of Kaede, Rantaro, and all those who have come before. It hurt. It hurt so, so much, and you felt like you were gonna crumble away like ash at any moment. You hung on tighter, steadying yourself against Korekiyo as all the pain you felt since coming to this twisted game all spilled over.

Eventually, when you ran out of tears and felt strange for hanging on, you released Korekiyo, sitting back until you were sitting knee to knee. His eyes were red and puffy, and his mask was wet with residue tears. You were sure you didn’t look any better.

“He-eh…you know, I bet Kaede’s fussing at us right now.” You smiled, wiping your face as much as you could. “She’s probably pissed we didn’t get to hear her play a proper rendition of Der Flohwalzer.”

Korekiyo let out a shocked laugh, finding your eyes. “That’s terrible!”

“I cope with humor.” You shrugged, earning more wet laughs from Korekiyo. “Seriously though…I’m gonna miss her.”

“Yes..as will I.” Korekiyo nodded. “I’ve only known her acquaintance, but she was a lovely girl.” Something sad passed over his expression then. “I wish I weren’t so harsh with her before.”

“What’s done is done. I don’t think she’d hold it against you.” You tried to smile, but you felt so drained it hurt. Instead you leaned into his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “Hey…thanks for being there for me, Korekiyo.”

“Please, call me Kiyo.” He took your hand back. For once this entire evening, it didn’t feel cold. “Thank you too. You’ve..helped me in more ways than you know.”

Once again, you’ve fallen into silence. Your chest hurt, your face burned and your head felt like you smashed it through several concrete walls. You were sure Korekiyo wasn’t doing any better.

“I can’t stay for the night. The bear’s orders.” You groaned, burying your face into the soft fabric of his shoulder. “But could I stay here with you? Until he makes me leave?”

Korekiyo didn’t answer. He didn’t have to- not verbally. He simply got comfortable, letting you lean fully into him as he leaned into you. Your hands stayed interlocked as you lounged in comfortable silence.

For the first time since coming here, you felt safe.

Thanks for reading!

[larabiatasstuff]

This is part two Bestie 🖤 @fangirlstorycreator

I woke up to someone splashing water into my face. "Wake up the captain wants to talk to you." the man who kidnapped me said. I looked around, I was on a boat tied to one of the masts.My heart immediately beat faster. I was afraid of water since I almost drowned when I was a kid. Tal was the one who saved me but, he wasn't here this time. "That's a very nice surprise you brought here Zackary. Still looks fresh and unused. Oh, the things I will do to you little siren." the captain, an old man with a wild beard and a blind eye,said and reached out to touch my face. "Don't you dare touch her." a familiar voice sounded behind him. The captain turned around and there stood Tal. I tried to fight against the ropes but it was hopeless. "And who might you be?" "I'm the one she belongs to. So take your dirty hands away from her and let her go ." Tal said looking in my direction, I could see how desperate he was to save me. The captain gave him a cruel smile "Then come and get her." with that he pulled out his sword and they both began to fight. Tal was way better than the old captain and his moves were much faster. "Throw that bitch over board!" the captain yelled and my blood froze. "No, no Tal! No please don't do that please." I begged while the man called Zackary dragged me to the edge of the boat. I looked over to Tal and I could see that our men joined him and were fighting with him. "Take a last look at your lover Missy." Zackary said and pushed me into the water. I tried to free myself from the ties but they were too tight. I sunk deeper and deeper into the water. No one would come to save me this time. And in my last moments I thought of Tal but right in the moment before I passed out due to the lack of oxygen, I felt someone dragging me to the surface. "Come on Y/N, wake up please, please don't do that to me." Tal checked for breathing and a pulse but there was barely something he could feel. He pressed his lips on mine trying to get me to breathe and started CPR. Tears were running down his face as he tried to save me from dying." Please Y/N I'm so sorry I wasn't fast enough. I'm so so sorry I couldn't save you earlier. Please God don't let her die!!!" he gently stroke my cheek when I suddenly started to cough and threw up a huge amount of water. "Oh my god Y/N you're alive. That's right let everything out. Don't forget to breathe alright?" I held onto his body for my dear life, I was shaking and still scared. "Tal I'm so happy you're here. I thought I'm going to die. It was so dark." he wrapped his arms around me holding me close to his chest. "I know princess but you're safe now. No one will ever lay a hand on you again that's a promise. I will protect you with my life from now on. God I was so scared that I lost you." he kissed the top of my head and started rubbing my back. "You saved me again. I can never repay you for that Tal." he smiled "There's no need to do that princess I'm so relieved to have you in my arms again." "I like it when you call me princess. The last time you did that we where kids and you pretended you were the knight that asked for my hand." he looked deep into my eyes. "Well Y/N, this time I'm serious. I really want to be your knight if you want me too, of course." I put my still shaking hand on his cheek "Yes Tal I want nothing more than that. I want to be with you for so long." "I'm so happy you say that. I love you princess." "I love you too Tal." then he leaned in and we shared a wonderful, sensual kiss.

[xionshadow]

✨️🕯💥 For the writer asks😊

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

The Snowdrop Prince OR My Time of Dying.

I poured a lot of work into both and a LOT of my dorky series related to Say My Name is going to reference concepts explored and introduced in My Time of Dying.

As for The Snowdrop Prince? Guys plz don't be out here passing up cutesy fairytale recreations. I promise it's cute and sure you might NOT ship Matsuda with Mikami. But give it a go! Fairytale logic suggests you don't really care who the prince is, plus I actually threw in a minor unrequited love thing by accident. Of all of my upcoming and past fairytale based items, this one shouldn't suffer as much as it does.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

By far to this day, Falling Petals was the HARDEST piece I had to write. And I wrote a whole fic based on someone trying to end their life like countless times.

Falling Petals is a special type of personal project because it's based on both Sora and Riku from Kingdom Hearts having Hanahaki Disease. And I little known fact about me is that I have asthma.

I have countless memories of pure fear of coughing so much I would pass out due to the lack of oxygen. So the scene where Sora is having a coughing fit and looks utterly terrified is based on real life events!

I DO wish to rework that fic, but the coughing scene makes it really hard to realize that wish. Every time I read it I'm reminded of the times I was desperately trying to breathing but only earning more coughs instead. It's a good fic though!

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

The Snowdrop Prince for round two! I don't actually need to say anything wonderful about it. All I need to say is I drew a beautiful picture that you can see when you read it! It took me till white day to finish but seeing as I published the fic on 14th of Feb, I think it's befitting.

[cookie-nom-nom]

thanks for the @, this man is a legend. I'd like to get into a little more explaining, though I'm by no means a soil ecologist and am doing cursory research. First of all the change in A profile is INSANE. That's the topsoil, where most of the organic decomposed stuff is. Also where most nutrients are, and so you want a good layer for farming since your crops grow better. Soil formation is extremely slow, so the sheer amount gained is impressive, especially when taken to account how much soil is usually eroded by conventional farming practice. Pretty bad given you need soil to grow stuff in.

Thing is, lots of farming practices disturb soil hella bad, like the tilling that is mentioned Dave avoided. Tilling very deliberately stirs up/loosens the soil such as through plows, which can destroy weeds and make it easier to plant. But tilling also causes problems like disturbing helpful organisms in the soil, like earth worms and arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi (...well amf oscillate in usefulness but I like them so dangit they get a mention!). And it makes erosion far easier because the soil is less compact and wind and rain can move it better. That soil causes problems both by no longer being on the farm, and often ending up in places its not supposed to be like rivers or blowing across the country like in the infamous Dust Bowl. Who knew breathing in dirt constantly is bad for literally everyone!

Fertilizer. Oh man. So, fertilizer causes a couple of problems. It also solved a lot of them in full transparency! There were massive concerns about how to feed the growing population, and fertilizer was a huge part in that. There are substantial consequences though. 1, you got to get those nutrients from somewhere, such as mining phosphorous and potassium, or mixing air nitrogen with hydrogen from natural gas. I don't have time to get into the ramifications of mining on the environment, but trust there's lots of them. 2. Lots of those fertilizers are washed away into rivers, lakes, etc which then inject excess nutrients that cause problems that kickstarts a process leading to fish and aquatic life dying due to lack of oxygen (eutrophication). So Dave cutting down on fertilizer usage helps the environment, but not necessarily his crop yield. Which he offset using cover crops (grown between the main crops, prevent bare ground (erosion) and can make it harder for weeds to grow). Peas are a legume, which have the ability to intake nitrogen from the air and store it, which adds nitrogen to the soil. I see evidence for peas as good for getting that nitrogen need (here). That source also suggests radishes work, though another source contradicts that. Anyway crop cover is hella important, and it's driving me a little crazy that my current job doesn't utilize it but well that's a confounding variable when trying to take data so we all make sacrifices in the name of science. Alas.

Multiple species have different nutrient requirements, and so by using a mixture of crops they can compete less. Niche partitioning lets gooo. It's like how I won't touch my roommate's blueberries, but since he's full on berries he only nibbles at my spaghetti whereas a second Nom in the house would mean WAR. Less bloodshed since we need different nutrient imput. More complete use of the nutrients in the soil mean they need less fertilizer imputs, plus the nutrients cover crops like the nitrogen fixing peas are adding to the soil. Dave used very little fertilizer without sacrificing yield much, which is a sign of very sustainable farming.

Fungicides and insecticides cause so so so many problems. Like you're introducing poison into the equation, and they don't ever affect only the pest a farmer is trying to get rid off. They tend to have health consequences for humans and ecosystems. The famous case of course being DDT, an insecticide that accumulated in fat and would travel up the foodchain when a contaminated animal was eaten, increasing in concentration and doing things like killing off eagles and songbirds. Also potentially doing things like leading to the endangerment of honey bees, generally being carcinagens, etc etc. Dave switching to using no fungicides and insecticides doubtlessly was very difficult, given pest control is a nightmare and jeopardizes yield. There are other methods of pest control however: things like using predators to the pest, having a variety of crops (see: monocultures are horrible), mechanical control, etc.

I know absolutely nothing about neonicotinoids and seed treatment, and so won't comment to avoid potential misinformation. Most of this has been my background knowledge supplemented with cursory research to confirm and offer jumping off points for further research if anyone cares to.

His cash crop yields have been increasing by an average of 5% annually for the past 5-6 years, with far less fertilizer and no fungicides, insecticides or seed treatment

^^highlighting because it's absolutely INSANE. Proof that more environmentally friendly approaches are beneficial. Wish this discussed more the economics of this, since if he's getting a 5% increase in yield but it takes 10% more money input it may still be infeasible for most people. As thin of a margin as many farmers operate on, more intensive and expensive methods may not always be possible, or too risky. I'm not here to demonize anyone who isn't employing these environmentally conscious agricultural practices, of course, since as it often is the real enemy is capitalism. I'm of the firm belief that anything that benefits the environment benefits humans in the long run, but as is the current system incentivizes profit now consequences later. Hard to change the machine when you're just trying not to get crushed. Which makes Dave's commitment all the more impressive despite the rigidity trap of the agricultural system being self propagating as it asks greater and greater inputs to maintain the human population.

It's honest work, and it means so, so much that he did it.

[kpopehell]

"These sins are prohibited by law"

Oh really??

I think THESE GUYS FROM MONSTA X SHOULD BE PROHIBITED BY LAW

[moo-blogging]

Late night (half smut half angst) thoughts #38:

'I' slam. 'Got' slam. 'To' slam. 'Make' slam. 'You' slam. 'Preg-' slam. 'Nant' slam.

Levi slammed into you hard. Every movement felt like a target to be shot, and he hit bullseye at every single one of them. Your legs were numb from the lack of blood flow and your thighs sore from holding position.

'No, please Levi,' you were begging, tears flowing down from the side of your eyes into your ears. 'Please stop...' You felt more pain than pleasure in your pelvic area. Levi looked scary as he pinned your waist down with both hands and mechanically stamming his body into yours.

Your pleas turned into sobs. You hid your face in your palms, wiping the tears as you tried to catch your breath. You panted for air, pumping as much oxygen into your lungs via your mouth because your nose was blocked.

Levi refused to look at you. Because he knew what he was doing was exactly what he vowed never to do to you.

You reached for Levi's focused face and touched his cheek. You called to him, 'Levi,' and whispered 'I will love you the same.'

He stopped moving. You saw tears welling up in his eyes and his face crumbling. Levi started to wail. Gently guiding him, you pulled him into your arms. The sound of his crying muffled as he crashed into your neck, his arms grabing you tight as if you might disappear any moment.

You held him tightly, hiding your face in his hair, weeping silently. You barely survived the ambush of Female Titan in Wall Rose. Injured, Levi couldn't participate in fighting the titan. He witnessed how your cloak was inches away from the titan's fingers and he was infuriated how you risked your life so easily.

Levi wanted to keep you out from the Scouts for good but he knew you wouldn't walk out just like that. When you finally met in HQ, you had a big fight with Levi even before you had a chance to report to Commander Erwin.

Enraged, Levi yelled 'I order you to resign from the Scouts!'

You yelled back 'Well, make me, Captain Levi!'

And so he pulled you into his bedroom, locked the door and forcefully made out with you. It started with him kissing you hard, your lips crahed together, tongues fighting. His hands pulling off garments from you, stripping you clean before stripping himself. He pushed you onto the bed and climbed onto you. Sucking your nipples, and rubbing himself, you both got aroused quickly.

Levi spread your legs and pushed himself into you even before you were ready. Trying to kick him off due to the pain snd surprise, you groaned and pushed him off. But Levi was strong, and he continued thrusting his hips into you. You felt him inside of you, rubbing agaisnt your wall. The momentum was uniform and heat was rising from the friction. But his thrusts were too strong, stronger than usual. Fear started to creep onto you as you saw him avoiding eye contact.

'Levi...' you moaned his name, 'Levi, what are you doing?' You never seen him so focused, like he had a purpose. And then he told you he wanted to make you pregnant to keep you out of the Scouts.

But now, both of you were crying in each other's arms. You knew you pushed yourself over the limit because you weren't strong enough to take down the Female Titan alone. It was decided that Mikasa was the one to do so. But you were angry at the decision of releasing the titan in a city full of unknowing civilians. You threw yourself in the frontline blindly as an act of protest. Levi was witnessing your near death experience but couldn't do anything due to his injury. He was angry at you, the world and mostly, at his helplessness.

'I'm sorry,' you told him as you run your hand over his undercut. 'I'm sorry for throwing myself at the titan. I should have thought of you.... I could have died and left you all alone again.'

Levi cried harder upon hearing you dying being said out loud. He thought about it a lot but never had the guts to say it. He never wanted to say it or hear it because you were too important to him to lose. He cannot bear to lose you. He cannot bear to not have you by his side anymore.

With a shaking voice, Levi begged 'Don't.... leave me... please..'

'I won't leave you, I promise you, Levi. I won't leave you.' Tears streamed down your face.

Softly, you kissed his hair.

'Let me make love to you, Levi.'

[eddiemunhoe]

and nothing else matters | eddie munson x reader

summary: reader is in a bit of a tight spot, and realizes during their musings what's really important. this was a little plot bunny that wouldn't stop bothering me! a short little drabble

warnings: cursing, mentions of dying, shortage of breath, a lil' angsty but some fluffy goodness at the end

word count: 1041

It’s funny, really. How things can seem so important when you’re young. It can feel like the world might end when you stutter whilst saying ‘here’ during roll-call at school. It’s like that when you’re in high school, you guessed. Nevertheless, it all seemed wholly unimportant now. How could you have worried so much about whether or not Ms. O’Donell would forget to collect the homework you’d ignored the night before? How did it feel like your life would end when some popular basketball guys tripped you in the hallway and everybody laughed? Not owning that one really cool walkman seemed like a really big deal last week.

Being worried about dating the only guy you’d ever had eyes for since years back because he was considered, amongst your friends, as a weirdo – seemed so fucking stupid when you were on the brink of death. It was only these last couple of days that you’d managed to talk to him. Whilst he was hiding because people thought he was responsible for a girl's death. You wished you’d had time to tell him how much he meant to you. How amazing he was.

Struggling to breathe, you truly cursed yourself for every little thing you’d agonized over. Your heart clenched at the way you’d screamed at your younger sibling that morning. With a cringe you remembered their hurt little face staring up at you. You even felt bad for being so cold towards your absent father, who’d probably had a rough upbringing too and couldn’t help how he treated you. A lone tear escaped your terrified eyes, as your fingernails clawed at the slimy vine that had wound itself around your throat, tight enough to completely cut off your air intake. 

In your short life, it felt like you had already accumulated a great deal of regrets. The biggest one was probably not letting Eddie Munson know how much joy he’d brought to your life. Every one of his little outbursts of exasperation in the dining hall, or his snappy retorts to Ms. O’Donells’ evident memory loss had somehow managed to put a smile on your face – even when things had been shit at home. 

It was him that you thought about now. The thought of his serene, doe-like brown eyes brought you some solace in your last traumatic moments. The way his long locks framed his kind face, and the way he’d smile a bit lop-sided sometimes felt like a soft blanket wrapping around you as your limbs started to feel colder by the second. It felt like it might be over soon. The edges of your vision had long since started to blur, perhaps due to the now constant stream of tears that ran freely down your cheeks, or perhaps due to lack of oxygen. Either way, it was starting to get dark now. You wish you could form words. Perhaps a whispered ‘I’m sorry’ would make its way back to your younger siblings, perhaps an ‘I love you’ would reach your mother, and perhaps a ‘I'm sorry I was too worried about what others thought’ would reach Eddie before you left the world. 

It was all dark now, and your feeble attempts at drawing oxygen into your lungs echoed coldly in your ears. If this was what death felt like, it was rather loud. Bangs, screams and frantic voices could be heard, and you briefly wondered if this was some of your relatives retrieving you to some afterlife – how traumatic of them. 

Your spirit guides, or whatever they were, were screaming your name. Over and over. Each time they sounded more and more desperate, frantic, frightened. They were trying to tell you something, but it all seemed so far away.

“Please! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go – I-i didn’t leave this time! I stayed! I tried, I really did– oh, fuck, fuck, please - not again,” the voice was familiar. Distraught and high pitched it sort of reminded you of when Eddie had one of his little tantrums. If you weren’t so out of it maybe you would’ve smiled. 

“Son of a bitch!” 

You briefly wondered if this was God laughing at you. Although perhaps she was trying to make your passing a bit more lighthearted? Or perhaps she thought Eddie’s frantic voice would ease your pain. And it did. You could hardly feel the vine around your throat anymore. 

You could hardly feel the vine around your throat! With great effort, it seemed to take every fiber of your being just to manage to force air into your aching lungs. After a raspy, almost asthmatic sounding half breath, you gasped in a large breath of air as your eyes flew open. You could hardly remember closing them at all. Panting, you frantically started flailing your arms, trying to remove any threat to you as you realized you had lived. 

Blinking, your vision was still slightly blurred as you frantically tried to see what was around you. Kneeling beside you, hovering over your frame was a long haired man who looked like he’d been through hell and back. His sweet eyes were filled to the brim with tears and he looked frightened. You took one look at him before you threw yourself into his arms and let panicked sobs wrack through your frame as your ordeal caught up to you. 

“Oh, shit, fuck, son of a–” Eddie breathlessly muttered “I thought you– I didn’t think I– I thought I was too late,” he mumbled into your hair as his arms wrapped around you and kept you close to his warm chest. As his warmth started to seep into you, your body started to shiver and shake violently in his arms. Perhaps due to shock, or from being without oxygen for so long - either way, it made you cling to Eddie more desperately as you whispered how scared you had been, your words muffled slightly by his neck and hair. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart - you’re safe, I’ve got you now” he repeated, rocking you back and forth soothingly as his rang clad hand stroked your hair softly. 

“You’re safe,” and maybe that wasn’t the whole truth, but right now you chose to believe Eddie. You felt safe, there in his arms. 

[dragonflydecay]

hi okay lets talk abt vampires in victorian medicine

(tw in tags but: discussion of disease, death, human decomposition)

- context: tuberculosis was huge then, and a Very Large portion of the population was sickly and/or dead/dying at any given moment. This means there were substantially more dead/nearly dead people around than anyone really knew what to do with

- more context: victorian medicine was vague and misguided and lacking in a lot of ways, and their knowledge of human decomposition was the same if not worse; also spiritualism was the latest craze

- with so many people dying around each other/in similar ways, people started to point blame onto the supernatural, and since everyone was rlly into that at the time, ppl (including scientists/doctors) wanted to check it out

- after exhuming the bodies of supposed vampires (especially in the winter), whose graves frequently appeared to be ~disturbed, as if someone had been coming and going from within~ (grave robbing was huge at the time as medical specimens were on high demand), the corpse was often found to be: ~mysteriously incorrupt~ (not decayed), with hair and nails that seemed to have grown since burial; shifted in position from when they had been buried, and in some cases observed to shift or even groan; and bloated/flushed as if they had been ~transformed~ into some horrid creature

- again, actual scientists looked at this and came to the same conclusions that yep, something was going on and it was definitely spooky. the general consensus was that they could be killed by either staking, beheading, burning, cutting out their heart, or some combo of all of them; when stabbed/cut "fresh" blood was seen to leave the wound and the body would (again) shift and sometimes groan, evidence of 100% genuine spookiness /s (it got to the point vampirism was practically a posthumously diagnosable medical condition, with these being "cures")

- what actually happens?? bodies decompose at different rates due to loads and loads of factors, particularly temperature. winter=cold= slower decomposition=more discovered "vampires". hair and nails don't grow, but the skin shrinks, causing that illusion

- bodies frequently trap gases after death, causing them to move and groan as the gases shift and settle through the body (corpses can move A Lot, even to the point of sitting up and other large-yet-vague and seemingly improbable movements). by stabbing or otherwise puncturing the body, the gases are released and, sure enough, those spooky symptoms disappear

- blood does coagulate after death from the sudden lack of oxygen, but it will liquify again in time and frequently remains a liquid for a good while. bloating/discoloration happens for a lot of reasons

- eventually science figured itself out ppl are obviously not diagnosed as vampires anymore. all things considered, the victorians rlly did pretty well observation wise, they got almost all the right information yet came to all the wrong conclusions due to their wild assortment of circumstances

(disclaimer, this is all amassed knowledge collected from years of overlapping special interests, please add on/correct/do yr own research if u think this is cool; i'm just some guy)

[aftgficrec]

Hello! Could you rec some Andreil kissing/ making out fics please? Could be soft or smut everything is perfect, thanks xxx

I literally had to stop myself from listing a zillion previous recs and not leaving room for new stuff! There’s still plenty here; you'll find loads in the heavy make outs ask alone. We had some discussion about the first fic fitting the ask, but hopefully you’ll agree that it does. Happy reading! - A oxo

an abbreviated list of previous recs:

heavy make-out andreil fics here

andreil or jerejean kiss & make up here

foxes see andreil kissing here and here

‘between the wall and a hard place’ here

‘matchmaker’ here

‘His’ series and ‘Let Me Write You Poems About What My Lips Have Felt’ here

‘I’ll be with you (from dusk till dawn)’ and ‘Sink Into Your Sunlight’ here

‘Fall Apart In My Arms’ and ‘I learned from my pain’ here

‘We keep this love in a photograph…,’ ‘paper mâché stars,’ ‘An Afternoon of Painting,’ and ‘coming down’ here

‘Can we can pretend like we're (not) in love?’ here

‘always you’ and ‘Small Smiles’ here

‘Severe Weather Warning’ here

‘the shape smoke takes,’ ‘Dough-Filled Hearts,’ and ‘said to be’ here

‘i'm sorry i ruined your birthday’ here

‘Without Words’ and ‘my heartbeat is hesitation…’ here

‘Ricochets Off The Moon’ here

‘The Proposal’ here

‘His Gift’ here

‘Something, in General,’ and ‘Love in the Time of Covid’ here

‘cape anywhere,’ ‘What Once Was Lost,’ ‘How to Be a Human Being’ series parts 1 & 2, and ‘Friday Night Big Screen’ here

The Massive Continuity of Ducks by fuzzballsheltiepants [Rated T, 12280 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Fall 2021, Locked]

Andrew Minyard had it all planned out. He'd drive home to New Hampshire for fall break, stopping to check out some law schools along the way and having his existential crisis in private. Except somehow Neil Josten ends up tagging along, and nothing ever goes quite as planned, does it?

tw: panic attacks

Sweet Stuff by sadwatermelon [Rated T, 8939 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil works at a candy shop. Andrew purchases his body weight in candy.

Featuring: several dinners, lots of lollipops, lots of kissing, a very hungry Andrew, a very soft Kevin, and a huge amount of found family feels.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: disordered eating, tw: body shaming

New Dialects series by bringmeapipedream [Rated G, Collection with 2 Complete Works, Last Updated Sept 2021]

Part 1: Gentleness is a Language Learned [2499 Words]

“Why— why do you do that?”

Neil and Andrew have a sleepy morning to themselves and learn a thing or two about gentlenes

Part 2: New Dialects [3903 Words]

He doesn’t think he quite managed it but it felt like a start. Touching Neil like this was not not familiar, though it was different. It was something he’d never done before but it felt more like learning a new dialect of a language he already knew, and he was pretty good at learning languages. He could learn this one too.

Mild by batrincos [Rated T, 3734 Words Complete, 2021]

Kissing Neil was like taking a deep breath right before dying due to the lack of oxygen.

You don’t think whether you should or shouldn’t breathe right after you’ve barely drowned; in a SOS-situation your body moves faster than thoughts in your useless head — you take a breath as soon as possible just for the sake of surviving. You deal with consequences later

tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Hold Each Other by exactly13percent_OLD (hymbeaux) [Collection Rated T/E, Complete, 2018]

Chapter 32: Who Are You [T, 4193 Words]

Andrew really hates that boy at the tea shop Dan runs. Or so he tells himself.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

Chapter 33: Bouquet [T, 4223 Words]

Andrew is just minding his own fucking business when a ray of sunshine decides to blind him.

He's having a hard time being bitter about giving and receiving flowers.

NB: art for this chapter by @still-waiting-for-godot

Chapter 35: Fall [Semester] [T, 5657 Words]

Andrew notices the stupid redhead in his class that seems to have a thing for shitty boyfriends and smug eyes.

He really wants to not notice and he keeps saying he doesn't care, but here he is.

NB: For more andreil kissing in ‘Hold Each Other’ check out chapters 3, 4, and 21-23.

Afterthoughts by wesawbears [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2017]

Chapter 6: Andreil- Alternate Take [1063 Words]

The Foxes find out about Andrew and Neil's relationship in a slightly different way.

tw: involuntary outing

Chapter 39: Andreil- Trip with the Foxes [522 Words]

During the few weeks between the end of the school year and the beginning of summer practices, the Foxes decide to take a well deserved vacation, this time to one of Allison’s beach houses. It’s a fun and relaxing time for all, with even Kevin bitching only tangentially about Exy.

tw: alcohol

kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face by StarrySpectacle [Rated T/M, Collection, Updated 2018]

Chapter 1: andreil + shotgun kiss [T, 612 Words]

“Have you ever shotgunned before?” Neil sat beside Andrew on the roof, head upright and turned to the campus.

Tumblr Headcanons by praising_the_foxes [Not Rated, Collection, Updated 2019]

Chapter 9: [T, 842 Words]

three and a half headcanons i cannot stop thinking about

Art

Andreil shotgun kiss art by @microolli

neck fetish? art by @peaches-plums-please

“yes or no?” art by @drewneil

Kissing art by @poorlydrawnaftg

Andreil smooch by @joonaxrt, plus >>Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to<< color | black & white on their instagram

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.6 END

There were little things, really, that ended up putting her doubts and theories to rest. Nicole hadn't been an active person since she was five, so the occasional mild fatigue didn't stand out from her normal routine. The headaches that came and went or the tiredness that accompanied nights when she didn't get enough sleep were simply chucked to her body adjusting to its newfound immortality. Sometimes it takes longer for the Cadou to fully settle in, Esteria had reassured her, talking from personal experience as her own mutation took close to two years to be done changing her body.

All the doubt was wiped from her mind when she woke up one evening, the day after another particularly unpleasant experiment run with Miranda, with a splitting headache. It soon turned downright nauseating and hasty steps took her to the bathroom connected to Cassandra's bedchambers, where she all but doubled over, as much as her position leaning on the sink allowed.

Her initial plan was to simply splash some cold water on her face, but that soon went out the window when her throat and mouth were invaded by the familiar sensation of thick blood coming and pouring out. The white porcelain got stained in dark crimson as her heart seemed to beat painfully against her ribcage, making a small whimper escape blood stained lips. This experience in and of itself was not unfamiliar by now, but her own body apparently taking offence to simply existing was a new and unwelcomed development. An attempt to take a deep breath was made, but that only seemed counterproductive as it sent a stinging ache through her chest, so she settled for holding her breath until the pain subsided. A few shuddering intakes of the oxygen her body seemed to scream for later, the room and her reflection finally seemed to stop spinning.

Her eyes landed on the crimson mess in the sink and she let out an exhausted sigh, but before it could be cleaned, the bathroom door that she had left ajar creaked open.

"Heyy- ooo that looks bad," Daniela's voice came from her side, tone as over the top as always with the grimace that pulled at her features.

"Oh this? What do you mean, just a normal Thursday evening," Nicole replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and hands still shaking on the faucet when she turned on the water.

The other redhead didn't seem phased, presumably being Bela and Cassandra's sister does render one immune to sarcasm. Instead she shrugged and occupied herself with her sister's collection of perfumes that were placed on an adjacent counter.

Nicole gave her a look through the mirror while trying to splash some water on the remaining blood stains. "Did you… need something?"

"Dumbass number one and two are practicing some sword fighting in the garden. Thought you'd like to see," came the reply complete with an eyebrow wiggle that gained her a playful shove.

"Give me a minute to change," Nicole said, finally pushing herself off the sink when the nausea subsided back to a mild headache and her face was free of crimson trails.

As promised, when they entered the back garden that stood between the castle and its extensive vineyard, the faint clinking of metal against metal could be heard. It raised in volume as they made their way to an area where a few logs had been set on the grass, that made perfect sitting spots around what the sisters reclaimed as their small personal arena dedicated to occasional training. The vine covered statues and bushes with colorful leaves made for a pleasant spot to simply spend time in too, her wife currently dressed in light training gear and sword fighting coming as a big bonus to the beautiful surroundings.

The moment Cassandra's eyes landed briefly on her, a characteristic smirk pulled at her lips, their ashy tone left visible from the choice to skip lipstick for the time being. Their sparring match got cut short by a sudden low swipe at Bela's feet, that knocked her off balance and sent her on the trampled grass underfoot.

"Show off," she grumbled at her younger sister when offered a hand to get up. She took it, but continued to glare daggers at Cassandra as she dusted off her pants.

Not that the middle sister noticed, having turned and came up to her wife for a tender good morning kiss. She let the hand not occupied by the sword's handle rest on Nicole's cheek, eyebrows pulling into a frown upon noticing the tired look in emerald eyes.

"Are you feeling well? You look pale."

"Yeah yeah-"

"Oh just some mild gut-puking in the form of blood all over your sink," Daniela interjected, giving a fake innocent shrug when Nicole turned to glare at her. "You might wanna get a maid to clean it up, she did a shit job of it."

"I did not!" Nicole protested.

"You forgot the underside," Daniela hummed. "That was some mad splatter there."

She was rendered mute as the youngest sister moved to the small fence portion that was turned into an impromptu weapon holder to choose something and take Cassandra's place in another sparring match. Her glare was interrupted when she noticed her wife's worried expression.

"It's fine, just a mild headache now," Nicole sighed as she brought a hand up to interlace their fingers and pull Cassandra with her so they could both sit where Laura and Anita were. "Any chance I'm getting another performance? Since I missed the last one," she then said, a sly smile making its way on her lips.

That got Cassandra to grin, fangs glimmering in the early evening's soft light in a way that anyone else would find downright menacing. "Of course," she answered, eyes momentarily moving to her sisters.

It looked like Bela was winning, despite Daniela choosing her preferred twin swords that she wielded with an odd mix of grace and chaos. A slip past her guard and a hit with the ornate hilt of Bela's sword was what it took to put an end to their match, the youngest sister stumbling forward and breaking into a swarm before she had the chance to fully lose balance and fall face first into the dirt. She reappeared in front of the blonde, tongue stuck out and nose scrunched in an annoyed grimace, complete with a middle finger. If the Dimitrescu sisters had one thing in common, it was that all three of them were the world’s biggest sore losers.

"My turn to kick her ass," Cassandra perked up, picking up her well polished gladius.

Daniela, still miffed about her previous loss, didn't offer her the grace of getting into a proper stance. A flash of flies later, the clanking of metal ringed around them as Cassandra pushed her back.

"We said no swarm!" Bela called out from where she had found a seat on the grass, right in front of Laura.

The youngest rolled her eyes but complied, the buzzing completely dying down in favor of quick swipes and blocks. What Cassandra might've lacked in speed, she more than made up for in an impeccable defense, being near impossible to get near her body even with the apparent advantage of having an extra sword. Their fighting came to a standstill soon enough, with Daniela unable to get near while also being too quick to let any major hit land.

"My ladies."

Alexandria's voice called out from the entrance of their little makeshift arena, distracting Daniela enough for her sister to quickly swipe at her feet not unlike she had previously done to Bela.

The Steward flinched for a second when a long frustrated growl was heard from the youngest, but cleared her throat and did her best to keep up her characteristic poker face as she addressed Nicole. "Mother Miranda's assistant is here for you."

Her face fell, annoyance and dread both bubbling in her chest at having her pleasant day cut short not even two hours after waking up. She got up and exchanged goodbyes with the rest of her family while grabbing Cassandra's free hand in a silent demand to see her to the door.

On their way out, she decided that old jeans and a slightly oversized shirt that had survived her high school days was an attire appropriate enough to being tortured. It should've been concerning how at peace she had become with that idea, at least to any person with a sound mind. She never declared her sanity intact though.

"I'll see you later," she told Cassandra once they were at the heavy doors of the castle's main entrance, a thumb slowly tracing her jaw.

Emma was impatiently waiting for her just outside and blame the slight inherent meanness she had learned to let free since becoming a Dimitrescu, but Nicole took immense pleasure from the woman's uncomfortable grimace when she pulled Cassandra down in a deep kiss that went on for ten seconds too long. Small victories in the face of doom.

---

Nicole choked out a sob that walked the fine line between crying and screaming when the knife that looked way too big for the woman's hands came down at her elbow's joint with a gut wrenching crack.

It felt like Miranda had an unbeatable talent to never disappoint when someone thought she had reached the peak of inhumane with her experiments. The poisons were dreadful as was everything before that. The test on how well she can heal bullet wounds from the previous day had been downright cruel, only stopping after the results that showed how only a bullet through the head can incapacitate her for a while. Today's experiment on regenerating limbs was starting to eat away at Nicole's remaining sanity. It obviously started small, with fingers, but Miranda was always so keen on pushing limits.

She turned on her side with the remaining hand pressed to tear filled eyes and nails digging into skin as she desperately tried to find some sort of distraction from the pain and tingling that felt like static in her veins. Her temples were already throbbing with a headache and her vision was spinning due to the nausea. Miranda and Emma were having some sort of conversation to the side, but it felt distant through the deafening ringing in her ears as she put all her effort into not throwing up due to the sheer shock her body was going through.

The amount of time she laid there sobbing completely evaded her, not bothering to keep a mental track nor raising her head towards the clock mounted on the wall. She just wanted the healing to move and get it over with.

By the time she was mentally prepared to stomach the sight, her hand was already stitching together muscles covering the newly reformed bone, together with the beginnings of skin close to the incision. She tried moving her finger and flinched into a whole body cringe at how utterly wrong it felt.

The door creaking open took her attention away from the unsightly muscles twitching as they got placed together and into their places.

"Lord Heisenberg is here," announced a man, donning a white lab uniform not unlike Emma's.

"Just on time," Miranda perked up, a dangerously gleeful look in her eyes.

She got up, leaving the assistant with the job of timing Nicole's healing as she went to greet Karl. It went on for almost another torturous minute before the tell tale click of the timer and Emma noting it down marked that her arm was once again whole.

"How- how long was that?" Nicole asked, tentatively moving her hand. Good as new, with the exact same mobility function and sensitivity. The only thing missing was the beige nail polish applied just the night prior.

"Five minutes and twenty," the woman replied, not looking up from her paper.

Another few minutes of silence passed, that Nicole spent flexing her fingers. A bit of hot rage coursed through her veins when she noticed her ring finger, the matching band she and Cassandra had having been left on the desk upon entering the lab. At least Miranda had the decency of not slicing her hand off with the ring still on it, but she still wanted it back.

It wasn't long before Miranda came back, motioning for her to follow. "Come," she said, waiting for Nicole to push herself off the hospital bed and onto her feet.

A small burst of dizziness later, she was standing and shaky legs were taking her towards the woman. "Can I get my ring back now?" She did her best to keep the edge out of her tone, too tired to face her wrath.

Miranda simply thought for a moment before waving a dismissive hand at her. "Fine, it won't be in the way anymore."

Nicole wasn't sure if that was good or downright horrifying.

Most of the rooms in the underground maze of corridors were unknown to her. The structure twisting and turning in dizzying patterns that were enough to disorient anyone not familiar with the layout. Not to mention the occasional tunnel that stretched for entirely too long that led to one place or the other from the town above.

Nicole found herself following Miranda through one such unknown area, the corridors new to her but the look not dissimilar to every other part of the underground structure. If it weren't for the numbered plaques on the door, she wouldn't even be able to tell this was a different area than the ones she's seen before.

Miranda pushed open a door and led her inside. It was definitely more spacious than the labs and the space was mostly cleared out save from a few tables lining the walls and some cabinets. The only thing at the center was Lord Heisenberg and a long metal table, leather straps fastened to its sides and a circular saw blade attached to a machine above.

Nicole took a couple stumbling steps back, hips hitting the corner of a table and rattling the papers placed on it. It seemed to peeve Miranda, who grabbed her wrist impatiently.

"Come now, we don't have all day," she said while slowly dragging her towards the table.

With every shaky step, her knees felt like jello under her and her ears started to ring anew with the panic and dread settling like ice in her veins. Her legs finally gave way under her and she fell to her knees with a pathetic sob.

"No please. Please I can't," she said, one hand meekly grabbing at the goddess' lab coat.

Miranda bent down on one knee, brows furrowed in the feign concern that only she could have perfected to such an art. "We have to," she started, voice so soft one could easily believe it belonged to someone else. "We must know the limits of your regenerative abilities. You said it yourself that you want to know them."

She had but not like this. Not like this.

"Then use anesthesia. Please just don't-" she choked out a sob before the end of her phrase. Not that it was going anywhere, it was just a pathetic attempt at bargaining for less suffering.

Surprisingly enough, there were few instances since coming to the Village when she felt truly and utterly terrified. Anxious and afraid? Sure. But not even Lady Dimitrescu hiring her, or Cassandra taking an interest in freaking her out or even getting shot made her feel the dread she was feeling then. She would've rather spent eternity on the cold hard stone under her knees than budge an inch.

Miranda pursed her lips and lifted her chin with one hand, expression like a mother hearing her child make an outrageously unattainable request. "You know that will interfere with the results."

"Then local anesthesia," Nicole suggested, holding onto some kind of feeble hope by a thread.

The goddess seemed to actually consider it for a moment before shaking her head. A hundred meek protests and cries fell past Nicole's lips and on deaf ears as she was pulled up by the wrist and back on track towards the metal table. Miranda was incredibly strong despite her rather short stature, so any attempt at pulling back was completely useless.

Once at the room's center, she pushed Nicole against the table, frowning when she refused to get on. With a sigh, she grabbed her chin once again, putting slightly more force in the gesture. Both a warning and witness to her growing impatience.

"If you keep still it's going to be much less painful," she promised, though the validity behind her words were doubtful.

Though there was something in Miranda's tone that almost demanded to be believed without question. It may have been the inherent authority that came with being almost divine, a goddess in all ways that truly mattered. Or something else entirely, common to every piece of the Megamycete's web, down to the finest and farthest roots.

With a barely visible nod, Nicole pushed herself onto the cold surface of the table. It was far taller than she was so Karl had to spend a few good minutes readjusting the leather straps on the sides until they were in the right positions to wrap tightly around her limbs.

"Uh… sorry kiddo," he said in a barely audible whisper as he fastened a strap around her forehead. "Here," he pressed a folded cloth to her lips, that she bit down on to at least try to not crack any teeth.

He seemed almost as much of an unwilling participant as she was, lips pulled into a tight line under the scruffy mustache. The only one seeming rather gleeful there was Miranda.

The leather was digging painfully into her skin, the belts having been tightened slightly too much to prevent movement. Not to mention the uncomfortable position, with her hands tied above her head and starting to feel numb. Her head also seemed beyond foggy, the shallow breaths she was taking doing a poor job of providing her body with oxygen, to which it protested with a heart painfully beating against her ribcage, almost as if the small parasite that nestled around it was taking offence itself.

Another sob shook her body, deafened out by the metal sound of the circular blade when it was turned on. Thankfully it was clean. At least Nicole hoped as much. And sharp. If she was going through this she prayed that she would at least be granted the mercy of a clean cut as opposed to shredding of skin and muscle with everything underneath.

She shut her eyes when Miranda raised her shirt enough to expose her abdomen and, as the saw forcefully came down, screams were muffled both by the cloth in her mouth and the deafening roar of the saw.

---

The feeble knock on heavy ornate doors was answered by the tall woman positioned on guard duty that night. Nicole did not remember her name and at the moment it was the least of her worries.

She took a handful of shaky steps inside before clearing her throat in an attempt to not let her voice waver. "Cassandra?"

"Out hunting with her sisters and the other ladies," the woman answered promptly.

Nicole simply nodded once and made her way into the castle as the heavy thud of the shutting doors echoed around her. Her movements seemed on autopilot, eyes only focused enough to watch her step as she made her way through the familiar path up to her wife's bedroom. She barely registered passing through the first set of corridors, the paintings and priceless decor she had grown accustomed to every day becoming a background blur.

She felt downright dreadful.

Her ears were still ringing slightly and exhaustion made her limbs feel heavy and aching with every step. The headache from earlier was also back in full swing and throbbing painfully at her temples.

A quick look at a golden clock mounted on the wall in the main hall reminded her that it was near dawn so the rest of her family must be on their way home.

She flinched, a small jump that threatened to throw her off balance, at the heavy footsteps that came behind her. Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw none other than Lady Dimitrescu, her mother in law, making her way under the low arch of one of the doors leading into the spacious room. Thin black eyebrows were pulled into a frown at the sight of the much smaller woman, hunched over and all but shivering, with dark circles under her eyes having taken an almost purplish hue and dried tear streaks on pallid cheeks.

"Oh hi," Nicole greeted with a wry smile. "I thought you were out hunting."

Alcina waved a hand dismissively, eyes still focused on every minuscule shake of her shoulders. "Paperwork had to be taken care of."

At the explanation, Nicole let out an oh and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to politely book it up the stairs and under the mountain of blankets on Cassandra's bed. There was no escape, it seemed, as a large hand came to gingerly rest on her shoulder, leading her further in and towards one of the plush couches lined in front of the barely lit fireplace. "Come sit," she offered, face softening in a gentle motherly smile.

Nicole just nodded absent mindedly, sitting barely on the edge of the white cushions decorated with a beautiful intricate floral pattern. She passed clammy hands on her jeans, now covered in fine powdery ash from the crystallized remains of the discarded half of her body after she retrieved them following the night's experiments. A disgusted grimace pulled at her lips, deciding then and there that the pants had to be burned as soon as possible.

"How did the tests go?" Alcina asked, taking her attention away from the ruined piece of garment and being met with distant eyes.

"Good," Nicole whispered, but before the word could even be fully out of her mouth a sob shook her entire body, coming out accompanied by choked out gasps as she all but doubled over in an attempt to make herself smaller than she already was.

The Lady's eyes widened at the sudden outpouring of emotion, so uncharacteristic for the woman in the few years she had been part of her family. "Oh child," she whispered, hands resting protectively on small shaking shoulders.

"Did-" Nicole started but interrupted herself with another shuddering gasp. "Did she- do the same thing to-... to you?"

Alcina grimaced, expression unseen by the smaller woman currently curled in on herself in her arms. It had been so long since her infection, the pain caused by her body acclimating to the Cadou a distant memory. Something that would forever remain seared in her mind however was the cruel ice in their goddess' eyes as she ran test after dreadful test, pushing the limits of her body to see how much she can actually heal. It had taken months to finally be content with the results, after her body's defensive response had been mutating and turning into the giant hungry beast she kept carefully at bay from that moment on. Instead of answering, Alcina decided that the better option was to rub her back slowly, not unlike she had done to her own daughters countless times before, to bring some comfort.

"You will get through this," she promised, unwavering conviction in her tone.

---

Date: 20th May 2012

Subject: Nicole [REDACTED] Dimitrescu

Mutation experiments - 5 (Regeneration- 4)

Testing the limits of regenerative abilities - regrowing body parts

Subject can regrow limbs (arm, served from elbow - 5'20'') and regenerate after being cut in half. If the body is cut with a 50/50 ratio, the upper half will regrow the lower half, prioritizing brain activity and the Cadou's placement. If the proportions are different in favour of the lower half, the upper one may still be the one taking priority; results vary. Up to 80% of body mass can be regenerated. If more than that is destroyed (eg. dissolved using acid) subject will presumably crystallize and enter a dormant state like others infected with a Cadou.

The discarded body parts crystallize and disintegrate into a stony/ashy mass.

---

Miranda's enthusiasm seemed to slowly dwindle after a few more experiment runs, the same effects John Abbott's mutations that caused his untimely death coming to knock at Nicole's door every so often.

"You see," the goddess had said the last time she had called Nicole down in the underground labs. "John was missing the healing abilities, which led to his infection slowly corroding away at his body until his death. You can heal, so you won't die, but the negative effects are still present. So try not to get hurt too much too often," she finished, not even sparing her a glance.

And that was the last Nicole had seen of Miranda, at least as far as one on one experiments went. The woman would still pay the castle a visit every so often, sitting down with Alcina for a glass of wine and having the rest of the family joining in on occasion, when their discussions didn't stray too far into matters of their cult.

She was right too. There were days when a migraine would rudely wake her up in the morning, or when her chest seemed to ache to the point where she was sure the parasite that made its home around her beating heart was trying to escape. The Cadou truly was a wretched little thing, constantly at odds with her body's defenses and trying to slowly but surely cause damage to the point of death. But if there's one thing that very same parasite had bestowed upon her was just… being really good at not dying. The healing abilities were in a continuous cycle of repairing any and all internal damage the infection may have caused on a not so good day. Those times had her doubling over the nearest sink, or suitable container if unlucky, a waterfall of blood carrying all the damaged tissue that had been replaced flowing from her lips in crimson rivulets.

A cruel fate, one may think. Not her though, for the knowledge of how her family had helped her through the change was at the forefront of her mind each time she had to sit down due to a burst of dizziness. Cassandra rubbing gentle circles on her back while she was coughing up the clogged blood in her throat grounded her beyond belief. Then, when everything was said and done, there was always something to get back to. A short vacation originally meant for business but that Alcina would always prolong for just a couple days so they could all spend some quality time away from the Village and the cult and Miranda's scrutinizing ever watchful eyes. Or the season's first hunting trip, the genuine glee on her wife's face never growing old to her. Even life's more mundane events, like the weekly movie night that had half the family groaning at Esteria's choice of vampire media. Rinse and repeat, forever under the castle's imposing towers and inside ornate inviting rooms, always warm and welcoming, always feeling like home to her.

If that was the price she had to pay for eternity, then so be it.

---

Subject Name: Nicole Dimitrescu

Cadou Affinity: Favorable

Brain Functions: Normal

Subject can regenerate at an incredibly fast rate, although healing slows down with loss of consciousness. Shows a similar mutation to John Abbott; able to detect illnesses by specific smells. The latter mutation causes the Cadou to have adverse reactions, causing internal damage that is however kept at bay with the regenerative abilities.

An unfit vessel for Eva.

[min-yunki-agustd]

THE HOSPITAL chapter: 4

I'm calling them chapters now because I feel it fits better.

~ sope series~

Doctor Min and sickie hosoek.

word count: 3,392

Dr. Min meets an unforgettable patient. An incident happens which leads hoseok and yoongi to head to the hospital. Feelings for one another begin to spark.

Tw: lots of fluff, domestic sope, mentions of emeto, adult language

previous chapter: Thinking about you... Part: 3

__________________________________________________________

The ambulance drove off.

Yoongi had never felt this way before...

yoongi's heart hurts. In fact, his entire chest was tight. Yoongi feels sick. He stood there, in the middle of the road. He watched as the ambulance drives off too far for him to see. The sound of the siren geting softer and softer. The red and blue lights fade in the distance.

It was when he could no longer see the car or the lights that he takes in a breath. He realizes he's been holding his breath since the ambulance drove off. He stands there not moving a muscle. He can't move. It's starting to get hard to breathe with how tight yoongi's chest feels. He hates this feeling. Even though Hoseok woke up and was responding he felt extremely worried. He couldn't get the image of fear covering hoseoks face out of his brain. He kept replaying the moment he saw hook's limp body on the floor. Why was the image affecting him so much? He's a doctor. He's seen it all. He's seen far too much to be feeling this way. He was starting to get that feeling in his lungs and head. His head felt light, His lungs tight not allowing air to enter them fully. This is the same feeling he felt when he lost his first patient. An anxiety attack he was told by his doctor. A much older and experienced fellow. It was so easy to diagnose other people but for himself not so much. So, when he had his first anxiety attack due to losing a patient he thought he was dying and that it was the end of his medical career. Knowing what was happening to himself didn't make the situation any better. Standing in the middle of an empty road in the middle of the night didn't help much either.

He kicks himself out of his motionless state as his breath picks up. He has his hands on his knees and he begins panting. He holds on tightly to his pants. He was trying to get himself to calm down. The humid air caused sweat to fall from his forehead and trickle onto the road. His stomach swirled due to lack of proper oxygen.

Jungkook sees the once frantic man now in a panic state in the middle of the road. Jungkook runs over to him and pats his back. He noticed that the guy was taking ragged and unstable breaths. He knew exactly what was wrong with him this happens to his friend all the time. He tried talking to him. " you alright man?" The younger says. yoongi speaks between breaths, " huff, yeah, huff, I just gotta- " yoongi gasped for air he couldn't really speak. He feels like he could puke. "I think your alright man, just gotta uh... breathe" jungkook felt awkward as he talked to the stranger. Yoongi found comfort in his words. " you're a doctor right? " jungkook says. yoongi was confused at what the other was geting at. ( I stole this from iron man three when tony has a panic attack in the car and the kid calms him down : P) " what do you normally do when someone feels like this." jungkook is trying to get the man to think about something else and distract himself from the panic attack. Yoongi closes his eyes. He could feel the wind blowing on his face. He could feel drying sweat on his forehead. He can hear crickets outside, and the sound of cars in the distance. He felt himself calm down. he could smell something. It was light, sweet, and fresh. Yoongi realized what the smell was, it was the inside of hoseoks apartment. The smell stuck to him from being inside hoseok apartment. He was finally calm. His breath slowed and his lung function felt much better. He opened his eyes and stood up. " I have to go see hoseok at the hospital." He says to jungkook. Yoongi sticks out his hand in front of jungkook for him to shake. " Thanks for all your help" Jungkook shakes it and smiles.

Jungkook walks back to his apartment. He opens the door and yoongi can hear the sound of a cheerful dog coming to greet him. Yoongi walked to his car. He got inside and turned it on. He was thinking about hosoek. yoongi was a very caring person but he cared so much for Hoesok that it hurt.

He speeds over to the hospital. He's a bit surprised he didn't get caught by the police, he's thankful he didn't. Hosoek lay on a gurney. He gained awareness of his surroundings. So many people were touching him and the lights were so bright compared to the darkness of the apartment. He doesn't remember much after waking up with yoongi in front of him. How did he even get into his house? Hosoek could feel a pounding in his head. He felt something in his hand and tried to sit up. He felt could and his mind was hazing. An odd and dull sensation was in his stomach. It was as painful as before, it felt numb. He looked down at himself. His body was covered in a white gown with light blue diamonds on them. He felt something strapped to his hand. He looked over and saw a male nurse Putting tape over the iv that he just placed into hoseok. He felt someone tampering with his other arm. He saw a female nurse on the other side. He felt squeamish when he saw the needle she had he quickly looked away as she inserted it. He didn't know what it was but he felt the substance go in. He cringed. His body felt extremely heavy and he just wishes they'd stop touching him.

He looked back to see the male nurse clamping something to his finger. He didn't like the pressure but he'd rather look at than the needled. " You'll feel a slight pinch," the nurse says. Hoseok didn't respond to her. He felt sick. The nurses move from hoseok and are writing down things, messing with medical stuff on a metal tray. Hosoek clears his voice before speaking up. "w-wheres... doctor Min. The nurses look at him and then at each other in confusion. the female nurse speaks up. " Dr. Kim will be here shortly, he will be your doctor. " Hoseok felt scared and confused. " Where is Dr. Min." He was just with me. I want- hoseoks voice shakes, I want to see dr. Min." The nurses were confused about how he knew dr. min worked here and why was he asking for him. The male nurse notices that hoseoks heart rate was beginning to rise. " Sir, please calm down, Dr. Min isn't available right now, but Dr. Brown will-" Hoseoks interrupts the other man. Hoseok is drowsy and confused and he just wants a familiar face. Hosoek could feel his eyes water. " please, hosoek chokes on his words. I need Dr. Min."

Hosoek's heart rate picks up substantially. the nurses try and calm him but it doesn't work. Hosoek's breathing picks up as well. At The same moment, Yoongi burst threw the door. The nurses stare at him as he walks in. "Dr. Min do you know him?" " Yes, Yes I do I was there when it happened," yoongi says as he stands by hoseoks bed. Hoseoks hands are shaking, his body is shaking and he feels panicked hearing the machine go off, replicating his frantic heartbeat. yoongi noticed the boy's frantic state. Yoongi feels calm knowing hoseok is safe. yoongi shoulder's relax before he spoke again. " Can you guys give me and my patient some privacy, I need to talk to him," yoongi says looking at the nurses. The nurse lifts The bandage she has in her hand." I wasn't finished bandaging his arm." " I can do it yoongi says. walking over and opening his hand to take the bandage. The nurse places it in his hand. He walks back over to hosoek. The nurses leave and close the door. yoongi looks down at hoseok. He's still shaking. He puts a hand in hoseoks hand and looks into hoseoks eyes. hoseoks was pouting and his eyes glistened with tears" what happened at the apartment?" Hoseok looks down at himself as he begins to recall what happened. Hoseok looks at his hand it was in yoongi's. yoongi's hand felt soft. his long pale fingers held on tightly.

Hoseok relaxes. The machine behind yoongi quiets down a bit and that helps hoseok focus on yoongi's warm and delicate hand. Hosoek takes a deep shaky breath. The odd sensation in his stomach fills a little worse as he tries to speak. "I was laying down... and I was hungry and cold... but- th- the - I didn't..." hoseok words were caught in his throat. " relax, "yoongi says looking deep into hoseoks eyes. " look at me... " Hoseok did what the doctor told him to. Yoongi's ora was soothing. Him being here kept him calm and it made him feel safe. Hoseok gave yoongi's hand a squeeze. Hosoek could see the brown in yoongi's eyes. His eyes were very pretty. They sparkled in the fluorescent lights. Hoseok tried again. he felt calmer. "I got up to get a blanket," hoseok spoke softly. yoongi let go of his hand and began to bandage up hoseok arm making sure the needle stayed in place. Once he was finished yoongi held back onto hosoeks hand. " I felt dizzy, and my stomach hurt really badly."hosoek continues. " ok, yoongi sighs in relief theirs not many signs pointing to anything serious he says to hoseok hoping this information would be a comfort to hoseok. Yoongi slowly lets go of hoseok hand. His hand was feeling clammy and to be honest holding on to hoseok's hand made his heart flutter. " please, don't" hoseok says looking into yoongi's eyes. yoongi looks confused. " it's embarrassing but I'm really scared right now." hobi admits. ( this is the part where animated orange and yellow leaves come out of nowhere lol) Yoongi holds back onto hoseoks hand. Holding it tightly. Yoongi felt too shy to say anything. he could feel himself blush. He was holding another man's hand. he's done it before in past relationships but this felt different. and hoseok wanted him to keep holding his hand it made yoongi's heart warm up and beat fastly. He tried not to show it. He wanted to keep hoseok calm.

yoongi looked down. trying to hide the pink covering his pale face and ears. Hosoek wiped his face of tears. "Dr. min?" can you please stay with me? I don't want to be here alone. hosoek admits. " of course, I can. " you don't have to if you're too tired it is pretty late." Hoseok felt selfish for asking when he remembered that this was dr. mins time off. " no- no I want to be here with you." I wanna make sure you get better. " "plus-" yoongi adds feeling embarrassed. " you really scared me back there. I don't think I can leave until your alright." yoongi says trying to keep his voice steady as he held hoseok's hand. Yoongi can feel anxiety roaming around in his brain. Did he go too far? hoseok was quiet. yoongi interrupts the silence. " have they called your family yet?" hoseok remebers the sadness he was feeling. He felt it all over again. There.... out of town right now they can't come and see me." Hoseok felt tears pile in his eyes and then trail down his face. Yoongi looked up at hoseok's eyes. tears ran down. Yoongi takes his hand and wipes a tear away. Yoongi gives the boy a short hug. keeping hoseoks hand firmly grasped into his own. yoongi whispers " your gonna be ok... I promise" hoseok was astonished. was this moment real? he'd pinch himself but he couldn't move. His eyes were opened wide. yoongi sits back down on the chair beside hosoek's bed and hangs his head embarrassed that he showed affection to the other. hosoek felt like he was dreaming. did- did doctor min like him? he thought. no.... well. that's not the kind of affection you show to just any old patient hoseok thought.

A new sensation hit Hoseok's brain from entertaining the thought of Yoongi being in love with hoseok. He looked at yoongi a little differently now. He wasn't quite sure if it were true but he felt something when Yoongi was around. " what about you? " Hoseok asks sincerely. " how did you know something was wrong and how did you get in," Hoseok asks. "Yoongi looks at Hoseok. Hoseok's expression changed from a sad one to a hopeful one. Yoongi would do anything to keep that look on hosoeks face. " well, do you remember texting? yoongi says. Hoseok looks as though as he's looking for the memory in his brain. " I asked you how you were," yoongi says trying to help jog hoseok's memory. " oh I remember!" hosoek perks up to say. yoongi continues. " well... I text you back and you didn't text back for a really long time so I asked if you were alright again and you didn't reply. I was worried that you may have been in trouble but thinking back now, you could have just been sleeping." How'd you get in? I recall seeing your face but that's all I remember. hosoek says looking at yoongi's worried expression. " Me and your neighbor broke the locks to the door. " I'm really sorry about that, I will pay for the damages. " I kept knocking and calling but there was no reply. yoongi says. " hoseok giggles at yoongi cute expression. " it's ok, I know you were just trying to keep me safe." " you could have just sent the police or an ambulance though, but you saved my life and I couldn't be more grateful." "Thank you so much, Dr. Min. " Hoseok says smiling. He teased yoongi a bit, realizing that he cared a lot about him. hell, he had to care to break down the door hosoek thought.

yoongi looked away blushing a bit while nervously scratching at the back of his head. Well, it was really no problem. I just want to make sure you were safe is all. They were silent for a while. The strong medication made him tired and yoongi by his side made him feel safe and relaxed enough to fall asleep. Yoongi sat and watched. admiring hosoek face. He wondered what hoseok did for a living yoongi's eyes scanned hoseoks body. He was quite fit. He also had the brightest personality yoongi had ever seen. Hosoek went from crying and scared to calm and maybe a little happy yoongi thought. watching as he sleeps. yoongi yawns. He felt really tired. He looked in the direction of the hospital room's window. The sun was beginning to rise. He turns back and looks at hoseok. He looks so peaceful. Yoongi realized he was falling for the other. He'd only met him a few days ago but in that time he has laughed a little, he's cried a little too. He just can't imagine not seeing hoseok every day. No. He can't. He doesn't know anything about this man. He is his patient. yoongi let go of hoseoks hand. He can't fall for someone he just met. He was his patient. It's probably against the rules. It's been a while since he'd checked the old handbook but he's pretty sure. And if he did, there is no guarantee that hoseok would feel the same. yoongi was the one who made moves. He held hosoeks hand. hosoek probably was only scared that's why he didn't let go ,yeah that's what it was. Even if hoseok did magically like him what then? a relationship? Could he really handle one right now? what would his co-workers say if they found out he was with a man. what would his parents say? Did hoseok even like men?

Yoongi laid back in the chair he sat in. Arms folded. He put his chin to his chest and began drifting/falling asleep. The two stayed sleeping in the hospital room. Nurses would come in to check but they would stay quiet so as to not disturb the two. It was around lunchtime when hoseok woke up. He sat up in the hospital bed. He looked over to the side. Yoongi was sleeping peacefully. He couldn't have been comfortable sleeping though hoseok though. Hosoek realized he stayed. He didn't have to. Hoseok wouldn't have minded if Dr. min went home while he was sleeping. Dr. Min was so sweet hoseok thought. Yup, he was definitely falling for him. He tends to fall too quickly. He couldn't help it. He's never had someone care so much. It warmed his heart. The feeling left quickly when he felt an awful pain in his stomach. He laid back in the bed and yelped in surprise by the pain. He held on to his stomach. He's not sure if whatever he was given worn off or if it was a different pain but it hurt a lot.

Yoongi hopped up and looked over to hoseok. Hoseok looked up meeting yoongi's groggy expression. yoongi was so tired that he leaned in a little too close. He was close enough to kiss. They accidentally bump noses instead. Yoongi stepped back, surprised almost falling over the wires connected to the machinery. He balances himself and apologizes. He asks hosoek if he's ok. Hosoek tells the doctor about his stomach. "It's probably hunger" yoongi helped hosoek pick out food from the hospital's menu and yoongi stayed by hoesoks side. making sure he ate well and relaying any symptoms to his doctor. After eating hoseok complained about his stomach not doing so great. " was it the food?" yoongi asks." did you eat too much?" hoesok kept his eyes closed as he rubbed his tummy. " maybe... I'm not really sure." "it's like... " hoseok hiccuped in between talking " my stomach won't digest it. or it won't settle down." " would you like me to get your doctor?" " I thought you were my doctor." hosoek says. "I'm not on the clock right now." " hoseok pouted a bit. His expression was like a little kid's. "oh"

"call up your doctor. He'll tell you what he's going to do next and he'll help you out. " yoongi says. Hoseok says ok and grabs the remote and presses the button. It was a bit of a long wait. Yoongi tells the other to be patient. It was hard to with the pain growing. He was starting to sweat and nausea swirled in his stomach. " I'm not sure that I can wait. " what's wrong?" yoongi says in a calm tone but stands quickly. " I think..." hoseok gulps and sits up. " hoseok, tell me what's wrong. " yoongi says. " I think I might puke." hoseok spits out. Yoongi walks over to the cabinet and starts rummaging for something. Hosoek squeezes his mouth shut feeling bile rise in his throat. yoongi finds what he was searching for and hands it to hoseok. Here. Hoseok takes it and keeps it over his mouth. hoseok gasped for air. He hiccups and then retches up his lunch. The blue bag grows heavy in his grasp. yoongi rubs the other back lulling him to calm down. After another round hoseok manages to calm his stomach. He rubbed it in circles as he tried to relax. He lays back feeling weak and achy. The pain from the fall before has caught up to him and now makes his body ache.

The doctor eventually walks in. yoongi explains the situation and the doctor tells him that a nurse forgot to give hoseok a round of the meds they were giving him. Which was most likely the reason for nausea. This angered yoongi but he kept his cool and listened as the doctor spoke. The doctor tells hoseok that he will be released soon. The doctor states that unfortunately, they couldn't find the problem. yoongi was the first to find this problem. The doc said that He has more medication that he can pick up and that they'll run a few tests before he's allowed to leave. Hoseok was glad that he wouldn't have to stay much longer.

_____________________________________________________

This is definitely one of my favorite series!

I hope you enjoyed and don't worry things really pick up in the next chapter ; ) also yes I'm so addicted to this story that I've already planned out the next chapter lol

[bunchofstraydogs]

Dazai Osamu character breakdown as I understand him

Meaning that this might be inaccurate and your opinion and visage of him might differ from mine, which is just fine. We perceive the world and the people around us through our experiences and expectations. I'm curious to know how you guys see a complex character like Dazai, just please respect everyone's opinions.

Warning: Manga plot mentions, s2 spoilers, BEAST light novel spoilers, Dazai Osamu

Dazai Osamu was introduced into the scene of Bungou Stray Dogs at 14 when Mori found him.

Even at that young age, Dazai had suicidal tendencies and had been wrapped in bandages similarly as he is in the present. Already dealing with too much trauma for a child his age, the fire is fuelled as he was forced to bear witness to the death of the Port Mafia boss at the hands of Mori, the person that took him under his wing. To use him; which was becoming very apparent to Osamu if he hadn't been aware since the start. Now, I'm not saying that death of the previous boss left a particular scar on Samu, he even agrees with it and is something he himself would have done. But that that is the scene that bore fruit of the following quotes:

"Or could it be that you're afraid, Mori-san? That one day i will slit your throat and take over as the boss?"

followed by

"Everyone seems suspicious to those who have an axe to grind."

This tells us right away that he can tell what type of person you are just from the way you perceive your surroundings, which is logical, but not something many think too deep into.

Even less who have their evaluations of others on point like he does. And he has to, since Dazai's plan is always to understand his allies, his enemies, possible allies and possible enemies. He also takes into account important neutral parties that can still, in one way or another, affect the outcome of his plans or decide to align with one side out of common interest. After comes realising the main goals, along with side achievements (just in case some of those maim his allies or ruin the future plans he made) of every party. Taking in their morals and motivation, and being familiar with the ground the confrontation will happen on, he now has the view of the whole chess board and it's pieces in his head. He moves his allies in the right places, knowing how they'll react in the situation to come, and awaits the enemies with open fire arms. He was tought to think like that. At all times. Mori made sure of it. You know how specialists never really stop thinking in their areas of expertise, like doctors, for example, will naturally notice people's posture and look for scoliosis or whatever? How your foot hits the floor, if you're walking straight, your knees and shoulders, etc. Same for Dazai. His brain maps out person's expressions, reactions, choices, personality, etc. in great detail. I'm pretty sure he has eidetic memory, if his conversations in manga with Fyodor are anything to go by.

Another thing his brain does is think of worst possible outcomes.

Not in a fear of what if things go wrong, but as a possible route. He uses it to determine how big of a threat the opposing force is and what steps they'll have to take to achieve that. Knowing that, he'll know how to intercept them. Also, like everything else, it's not something he can control since we're talking about thought process here and that's just how his brain works. Can't magically turn that off. It's especially annoying to him when he's genuinely enjoying himself with, let's say, ADA members and then his brain goes brrr.

•"A lot happened recently and we're a torn in many people's eyes." *Tanizaki and Atsushi drinking punch* "There's a possibility, while a small one, about 8% at this very moment, but as time goes on will increase, that an organisation outside of Yokohama decided we're an unavoidable threat and poisoned the drinks. Don't drink that. Nothing will happen, they'll wake up tomorrow in pristine condition don't drink th-"

Yeah, i feel bad for him too.

He has PTSD and insomnia, besides the hectic brain,

so he's not getting proper amount of rest. Actually, he drinks almost every night by himself at home. Pretty sure it's canon as well, because if you search for a picture of him in his room, you'll see him surrounded by multiple bottles. Two of the PTSD symptoms are hallucinations and night terrors (no, that is not the same as a nightmare). What people usually do is use opium to cause hallucinations in a safe environment so that there's little chance of them happening uncontrolled. He's probably using alcohol to numb himself while he's reminiscing, since if he does still have hallucinations after years having passed by (which isn't impossible), they're probably few and far between. Not saying there's no chance he isn't using opium. He would know where to get what he needs, after all.

Osamu's haunted by his own actions as well, not just by trauma caused to him.

At an uncountable amount of occasions, he found himself looking into a mirror and not really comprehending his image. It was like dissociation. Looking through a fog at what's supposed to be your carbon copy, but not knowing all of your features perfectly, so whatever you're seeing could only be an impostor, yet you're not sure because that would take comprehending physical proof of your life to the fullest and how it works and he just... can't. He can but he doesn't want to. He already knows he's despicable and broken, doesn't really feel the need to see just how much. He can't, for all his perfect memory, remember the faces of the people he has killed. He hadn't even seen all of them, but he was responsible for their demise. Causing havoc and misfortune in general through other crimes besides murder as well. We've seen his expression when he listened in on Atsushi talking to Kyouka over the earpiece how the 35 deaths don't matter anymore. He knows they do and he knows that the change of heart won't justify what he's they've done. Ango thought him to value each life. But he also knows that even murderers can change and become good. Oda did that. It's also what's keeping him in the agency.

When Oda died, his last words mentioned that Dazai doesn't care about good or bad and that was correct for Dazai Osamu back then. I genuinely think that his present self does mind the difference.

He believes in necessary evil and will do dark shit to get the good outcome he's envisioned.

He doesn't separate outlaws and lawful people, however.

He knows that generally speaking, the line is thin and easy to cross and that many were born or forced into the situations they are. Those that fight the life thrown at them are an exception, not a rule. That's also why he likes Atsushi, probably the main reason. The boy has every right to hate the world and yet. Dazai is envious, he doesn't really have the same capacity.

I want now to talk about why does Dazai Osamu do what Dazai Osamu does.

The reason he attempts suicide, joined the mafia, made friends at all, is because for all his intelligence and observations, ability to understand others, he doesn't really understand himself.

He doesn't understand his worth. He doesn't understand his purpose. In all of that confusion, he finds no reason to live. He laughs but can't get the high, he bruises but can't fully heal. In all of the things people find happiness in he can't feel joy from. He is emotionally stunted. He thinks too logically. He doesn't understand actions out of emotions because to him, it doesn't make sense. Emotions cloud your mind and when you're not thinking straight, you make mistakes. Plain and simple. He just accepts it, that most people simply cannot control themselves and prefer lashing out instead of methodical approach. All the better for him, he has leverage. Even when he does act on impulse, which is incredibly rare and not as explosive and dramatic, his brain rationalises it as to why his actions were a good way to go. And if his reaction was one that bore fruit, than it was a tactical one.

"If you place yourself somewhere close to raw emotions, where you're exposed to raw violence and death, instinct and desire, you can brush against man's true nature. I though that way i could find a reason to live somehow."

From this, i can tell that he was hoping that, in a situation where he's pushed far enough, he'd realise what's important to him, what he wants to protect or destroy, what's one thing he wouldn't want to leave unsettled before dying. What is that one thing he'd regret dying before achieving? What should he fight death for. What is worth living on for? To him, it doesn't matter if that something is good or evil as long as he gets to keep it in his life.

It seems he hadn't found it exactly, but is satisfied with what he has for now, in the agency, to just keep going. But he still tries to commit suicide, hoping that one day, when the clear picture of the world around him is fading away, when he's becoming light headed from the lack of oxygen, when he's loosing control over his body and thoughts don't seem to flow well, there will be one thing, anyone, screaming at him to fight it. New day new chances. It didn't happen today, better luck tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomo-.

Now, like Mori, Dazai feels the need to, at all times, be in control of the situation. Including people.

That means no one, but perhaps Ranpo due to his own abnormal intellect, is aware of their own role. They know their mission, but they're not expecting to be given that particular one because they'll come across an obstacle they would react to in a way that would satisfy Osamu's plans.

Dazai Osamu is more of a chemist, than a chess player, if you ask me.

Throwing different people into the mix, under different conditions at different times and is noting down their reactions in safe surrounding if possible, so that when the time calls for it, he'll be able to make a perfect concoction for the predicament. A chemist and his substances; A chess player and his pawns; A puppeteer and his puppets. Now, Dazai is meticulous and never rash, but like everyone else (except effin Lovecraft what is he even) he's only human and he bleeds when he falls down and humans aren't perfect. He isn't always right. That means he makes mistakes. The issue with big shot players that control the board is that, when they fall down, everyone on their side crashes and burns as well. So the day Dazai fucks up everyone else will follow because of lack of insight on their part that's completely out of their control. All it takes is for him to underestimate or overestimate one person and chaos ensues. There is no such thing as happy little accidents small mistakes for someone like him. I have crippling anxiety and a sole thought that one hiccup could blow up in everyone's face... damn. I would try committing suicide myself. But it's his fault, he brought upon himself an obligation and pressure like that. To be fair, it was Mori that drilled that type of thinking where no one should know what you plan because they can't ruin what they don't know If they turn against you, they can't stop you.

For his own sake, and everyone else's, Dazai needs to learn how to show his cards and share the burden.

Again, going back to the emotionally stunted guy that has commitment issues (where he either can't commit or can't let go) trope.

He never outright does something good for someone where people would acknowledge it, he uses his underhanded tactics here as well.

He casually makes himself look like a bad guy, an asshole, to conveniently move attention from the inner turmoil a person is struggling with to a present problem at hand that they can fix and let their frustrations out on. But he hopes that, one day, someone just might notice his intentions for what they are and do the unspeakable- see through him.

"I'm a very private person. You don't ask, i don't tell."

Yes, and your whole existence is just a huge cry for help. He wants to be asked. He's begging for attention. A specific type of attention. One that will see him without making him feel imposed on. One that will understand his sins without making a big deal out of it. Accept him as a person he is, makes him feel like one as well. Makes him feel alive. Makes him feel... period.

The day he finds that thing is the day he completely turns his life around and fully dedicates to it. It's where the part of not being able to let go commitment issue ensues.

Since Oda's death he's been secretly keeping an eye out on possible ways to bring him back. If you've read Beast AU you know that when Dazai gets his hands on the book, he'll create a universe where Oda doesn't die. Should he find an ability user that can bring back the dead, just tell him what it will take, he's ready to destroy his own soul for it and if that isn't enough, well, he'll have no hesitation ruining theirs. After all, BEAST!Dazai Osamu never actually met Odasaku, he just had the memories he'd gotten from his canon self and that was enough for him to do everything he did.

He's incredibly selfish and has a weird come in but the door is a wall dynamic he rolls with in his self imposed solitude.

It's like the walls of the space in my brain are ugly and terrifying, so i closed off the entrance to keep myself in. I'm doing you a favour but please break the wall down and tell me it's okay to come out i don't want to be here-

Happy little thoughts woah woah yeah~

That's what i got from what I've seen of him. I may have missed some things, some things might prove to be wrong as the series progress further, but yeah.

There is, however, one more thing i want to put out here. Since Dazai was already like this before Mori found him, that begs to question as to why? What happened to him?

Now, since the characters are based on real people, is it crazy to say that Dazai Osamu has had a horrible childhood because of his father? Real life Dazai was terrified of his dad and was very intimidated by him. He always tried to stay in his good graces out of fear of punishment. Neither of his parents felt like a parent to him, actually. His father didn't care and his mother was often ill, but did care for him when she could. Both of them died eventually.

This could be the plot Kafka based Dazai's background on, but we'll have to wait and see.