#and subjecting my brain to bad emotions and feelings by overthinking things I KNOW are making me feel worse

[gaychaosdemon]

I am deciding to be gentle with myself this year above all else.

[scribe-of-hael]

Thundercracker HCs

TC headcanon that follow nothing in particular of Canon and is as very bias to my own au where I build him up to be kinda different because him and Sky are very underdeveloped and utilized. LETS GO

•TC is more well kept, and organized , he is able to throw down but at the end of the day he cares about himself to keep his up keep

•He is the youngest of the trine and it kinda shows with how more optimistic and far more light hearted he is than his brothers

•TC had always has had a fascination with , what? You guessed it! Writing !

•Writing is TC'a passion, it was one of the focal points he was hooked on when agreeing to join the Decpticons was because of Megatron's writing for when it first started. He was touched to his very spark with Megatron's words. He learned very quickly how words and working could affect one another.

•he researches endlessly of writing, works, and genres. He prefers stories with happy ending but he is also about drama and some dark themes.

•He is also a photographer, he loves to take picture of his brothers, the scenery or even important moments. It has gotten him into trouble for stopping in the middle to capture the moment.

•His writings are important to him, it doenst matter if he feels or even if he's hurt he will take some time out of his day to write. Because he reads do much, if its niche knowledge or even history you want to know you come to TC.

•Try to keep him on topic he will jump aorund and get a bit carried away with rambling /pos

•TC had always questioned the Decepticons almost as soon as he joined , it only grew with time and the more worried he got, worried he got for his brothers Especially Starscream and Megatron's growing abuse towards him.

•He is definitely a kind spark, who wants to see the beauty in it all, which some bots call him soft amd weak for

•he more sensitive and emotional ,this can be both good and bad. He panics and is filled with paranoia. He tends to overthink and complicate things.

•just because he is kind. Do not mistake it for being weak. He is just as fierce as Star or Sky and honestly probably could be more unpredictable about what he will do. He can be just as scheming , clever and resourceful. He is a Decepticons for a reason.

•he is prone to outbursts of emotion, if it is anger its connected to his abilities. His sonic booms can become more powerful when emotional driven. Nothing like shattering brain modules when he decides to have the pulse of five sonic booms in half a millisecond.

•His frame is way more durable than the other two because of the constant subjection to his own sonic blasts. Its reinforced but also allows its self to vibrate to allow the sound to travel.

•Oh and he writes Erotica and is kinda a freak/pos

•He is Demi though, having taken little to no partners because he could never properly feel a connection depsite having a desire for a partner. While he wants someone he wants to truly have a deep and lasting connection

•he is nothing but in love with being in love which makes him prone to being vulnerable and easily taken advantage of in hopes of finding someone fo love, which Star and Sky (mostly) intervene to stop their brothers spark ache.

•TC also loves animals, that includes his dog Buster whomst he'd give his life for

•He adore human culture so DAMN much this bot is also obsessed with vintage items humans have made.

•He wear glasses despite not needing them because he thinks they make him look cooler/smarter

•TC's main thing is he writes stories and incorporates real people into characters. There are many stories you will find character eqiailants to bots he's encounter or events he has lived. You'll come to find writing isn't just his passion, but his cope for the war and even after it.

[ofmiceandpeace]

Okay, so does anyone else have an affinity for Gene Forrester or is it just me? Like on a deep psychological level, and qualities as well…

In the tags of a reblog of a post I can't find, I mentioned this a little bit, but I don't know if I said it directly in a post. But anyway, it's actually kind of bizarre. (I'll get a little personal here so if you find that cringey then I wouldn't read this. It sounds a little venty at times, which was not the intention, but to explain the way my mind negatively works.)

On a shallow level, I'm introverted and I get good grades like him. I like my subjects; is that being an intellectual? I'm also not an athletic person—I’m not participating in a sport, and most likely wouldn't in the future. All of my friends do sports and some, partly due to that, are actually perfect citizens and human beings. Here I thought it gets meta.

There are people so much better than me, and I have always felt some twinge of jealousy or a deep rooted loathing for their superiority, and after analyzing that moral at the end of A Separate Peace, I realized that it totally applied to me. My whole thing is insecurity. My emotions often get the better of me, especially when I overthink, which is equally as often. Sometimes I (used to) feel like my head is just crowded from anxieties and such, leading to the aforementioned bad actions. I've actually pushed people away in the past due to this.

Onto a side point of overthinking, a lot of it is being introspective like Gene was in his narration, albeit some being his reflections from 15 years in the future. I analyze my own thoughts and motives like they're of another person (or so I think) and that just uses a lot of time and brain power, probably for no good reason. For example, I spend a lot of time mulling over events in the past that embarrassed me, or things that still make me angry months or years after its happening; things I just regret, like ruining friendships with people in the past because of my own insecurities. I don't know if I've come to terms with them yet. We'll see in 15 years.

But anyway, yeah, I don't know, most of the people around me have just amazing qualities which make my own faults more apparent to me. Relating this to A Separate Peace’s moral may have made my overthinking worse, actually, because now I just tell myself, whenever I suspect wrongdoing, “Am I jumping to conclusions because I hate them for some reason?” thus perpetuating the cycle… and I can never tell if it is this way or that.

So in conclusion I relate to Gene with his traits and the way he thinks and acts. Which is kind of cringey to write, but this is partially for myself just to put these thoughts out there which have been floating around in my head for a while. It's really strange, because it's almost a perfect fit. I haven't come across any protagonist that I've related this closely to. Maybe this is another reason why I love A Separate Peace so much? Am I secretly rooting for myself? No, but Gene’s character is just so real. It's not overly dramatized, just a boy with a tortured conscience over an incident that was caused by a realistic mental conflict.

Comparing this to another Knowles book, Peace Breaks Out features characters that act very dramatically with interesting motives and lines and whatnot. More of the plot is action in comparison to A Separate Peace; so the story is not as “believable.” This lack of action in the predecessor makes it seem boring to a lot of people—we can all agree on that. People say nothing happens. But even though they're objectively wrong, I'll say that that's what makes it interesting to me.

You spend so much time with these characters in their everyday lives, listening to the inside of the narrator’s head, or to his friend’s monologues that now and then reveal a key part of his philosophy, that you almost feel connected to them, that they are, in the most figurative way possible, real people. And in my case you may even identify with a character since they are so realistic that their traits coincidentally lined up with your own.

Extreme plot points aren't needed for an interesting story. This tiny fandom can advocate this, right? We're passionate about a 60s book that takes place in a boarding school during World War II which like no one else cares about. It's crazy…

Anyway sorry this was all over the place. I wrote what I was thinking and things probably don't make sense. Thanks for reading if you made it to the end!!

[ganjas-shit]

What about a fluffy Billy fic please ?

Sorry, but I really need to have this off my chest :

All I have seen on here lately is smut ones, which is cool 'cause I find them actually pleasant to read, but I don't know man. I miss angst, comfort, fluff sooo bad. I'm tired of reading about billy and reader constantly banging lmao. I just feel like Billy is only used these days as a one time distraction. Like a one night stand lol. As if the very purpose of his character wasn't to denounce this very unhealthy behavioral pattern & coping mechanism that he's internalized. I feel like people have forgotten the purpose of his character. I remember when there used to be tons of fics with angst, smut, comfort, fluff, complicated & contradictory emotions, with both heavy and light-hearted subjects. I don't know if this is due to depression rates amongst the population reaching a high level these past few months. Anyway. Hope everyone is safe and that it's just me overthinking it.

I don't know man. I just want BILLY back. Not a vessel for high libido.

Oh my gosh, yes! I definitely know where you’re coming from! Billy has definitely heavily, heavily over sexualized. Every time I try and find a Billy fix that involves angst or fluff I always see one shots w tons of fucking 😭😭 not that it’s a bad thing I think his character deserves waaaaay more than that. I’ve been putting off the series I recently started because I rushed too much into the smut and it lowk is botheringggggg me. My goal was to slow things down and focus on who Billy is at his core, but my brain got ahead of itself. But anyways YEs I can definitely do this thank you for the suggestion!

[weirdsht]

Another day, another lotcf novel rant

by clicking 'read more' you will be subjected to, not only, novel spoilers but also a long and messy rant about lotcf novel so please be warned and don't blame me hehe

Maybe I’m overthinking it, maybe I’m not but just listen to me okay. Just listen

I think it’s so genius that Yoo Ryeo Han chose to tell the story in a third person point of view but still having it on Cale’s pov (mostly)

Like its 3rd person’s pov that still has the mc as it’s narrator

Its fcking brilliant

Because there are some subtle things that you will feel but won’t really notice.

For example; Cale being part of the unreliable narrator squad

Yes we know that he is one. But you won’t really notice it much. Especially compared to Dokja because ORV is in first person.

AND THE SUBTLE EMOTIONS 

We like to clown on Cale. It’s a running joke that the whole fandom is a sadist for his blood. Now, while that is true, I think it also stems from how the narration is portrayed in the novel. 

Now this might just be me but the emotions are so watered-down. Not in a bad way, don’t get me wrong, but more like in a it’s-on-purpose way. 

Sure I’ll read the “you were supposed to die that day” scene and cry for a week and still continue to cry at the mere thought of it.

But even though I’m crying there’s something deep in my heart and at the back of my brain that’s silently screaming there’s something missing. Something like “sure this is emotional, but it’s missing something and I don’t know what it is”. Then I just ignore it because it’s just something I thought of at the very back.

Then it clicks 

It’s missing emotions

THE EMOTIONS ARE KIND OF FCKING WATERED DOWN

BECAUSE CALE HENITUSE IS THE KIND OF MOTHER FCKER THAT LIKES TO DISRREGARD HIS EMOTIONS. He likes watering it down so he can focus on ‘more important things’

And like it’s hard to notice that it’s like that because it’s not on first point of view, it’s on third but still Cale focused

Anyways what I’m trying to say is Yoo Ryeo Han I love you and your sexy brain so much. I can’t do this topic justice because I’m the worst ranter out there. My emotions and excitement just gets the better of me ssdjhfgskjdgdfh

[shippaidan]

no one says that they are afraid of love as beautifully as you do

>>chapter: five >>pairings: chuuya x fem!reader | dazai x fem!reader >>genre: angst >>status: ongoing >>words: 4,8k (that's a long one) >>cw: spoilers, she/her pronouns for reader, swearing, alcohol, mention of vomiting, mentions of death/suicide

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a/n okaay so since it's my birthday today, I decided to post new chapter yeehaw also I'm going out this weekend so I'll probably start posting requests on sunday/monday! sorry for the delay!

REGRET.

As expected, everything went exactly according to his plan. The freezing wall chilled his back, his hands were chained with thick shackles, and his spine was a little sore from being in the same position for a long time. It was not the most comfortable experience, that's for sure, but there had been worse. And besides, who was he to complain? He was just a kidnapped man.

After rather unpleasant confrontation with his former subordinate, he intensely analyzed the entire situation he found himself in and decided on the best possible steps he could take. However, the sound of footsteps snapped him out of his contemplations. Elegant shoes appeared in his line of sight, and the echo of the steps seemed to pound into his brain.

"Well well well, who do we have here? Plotting as usual?" That voice. That fucking voice. The familiar man stood in full view at the bottom of the stairs, at which Dazai rolled his eyes.

"Dammit,” he muttered.

"Dazai Osamu." Chuuya spat out with a hint of disgust in his voice. To be completely honest, he was definitely the last person Dazai wanted to see, but deep inside he was expecting this visit. He would never let such an opportunity pass him by.

"Oh, the same old Chuuya. How nice to see you here." Dazai sent him a bitter smile. "What brings you to my humble abode? Forgive the mess, I haven't had time to decorate yet."

"I only came to see you as a sad little prisoner. It is better than I could have expected." Chuuya walked closer to the cuffed man and glared at him with despising eyes. The amount of emotion that filled his body seemed to boil from his intense gaze. Rage, betrayal, hatred. A kaleidoscope of feelings shimmered in his irises as he slowly approached Dazai. Until they came face to face with each other.

"Did you miss me so much that you decided to visit me in my misery? Do you want to look into my eyes one last time before I am sentenced to death? How romantic." The wicked smile did not leave his face.

"Listen here, you may be able to fool Akutagawa, but not me." Chuuya walked even closer to Dazai and with a brutal motion grabbed his hair, clenching his fist tightly and pulling downward. With an intense and also a little bit sad gaze, he stared straight into the almost empty eyes of a former friend. "What kind of sick game are you playing now?"

"Playing? I've been captured and am awaiting execution as a traitor of Port-"

"Cut the crap. The Dazai I know would never get caught through bad luck or carelessness. If you were that stupid, I would have killed you long ago.” Chuuya clenched his fist even tighter in his hair. Holding back in this situation required inhuman amounts of patience and self-control, but he had no intention of losing his cool until he knew the real reason for Dazai's reappearance. The stakes were too high, and Dazai was far too dangerous as a player in this game.

"You overthink things too much, Chuuya. But you've always had a bad habit of doing that." Dazai sent him a sly smile, at which Chuuya scowled and let go of a fistful of hair. Every word coming out of his mouth made him nauseous. "I know you like the back of my hand, Chuu. After all, I wouldn't be such a good partner if I didn't know you, would I?"

"Fucking bullshit. Don’t change the subject." Chuuya grunted with annoyance.

"It’s honestly really nice to see that you haven't changed a thing. I bet you are still just a passive observer of your own life, accepting all the logs that fate throws at your feet? Am I right?"

"Oh, shut your mouth already and stop playing dumb. Why did you let yourself get caught? What are you looking for here?” Chuuya was slowly losing patience. Dazai's mere presence was getting on his nerves to the point that with the remaining strength he restrained himself from punching him. With every second of looking at his stupid smirk, memories of her face contorted from suffering ran through his mind. Her bitter tears, broken bottles and nights sat in the bathroom, holding her hair and stroking her back while she threw up the entire contents of her stomach. Chuuya hated Dazai for how much he made her suffer. He hated him with all his heart.

"The main reason is Atsushi."

"Atsushi?" The unfamiliar name caught Chuyua off guard. For a long time, something inside told him that maybe Dazai had come back for her after all. Maybe he had come back to shatter their little heaven they had carefully built over the past months. That would be something that would suit him perfectly. Thus, Dazai's answer both surprised and somewhat calmed him down. Now he got curious. „Who’s Atsushi?”

"That weretiger you're so obsessed with."

"Ah, that guy?” Chuuya waved his hand. "I'm not a part of this whole kidnapping thing. Akutagawa is in charge. I don't have any details."

"Then why were you so bothered by the fact that I'm here? Why else would I-" Suddenly, everything came together in Dazai's head. He laughed quietly, realizing the whole reason for his former partner's visit. His irritation, nervousness and suspicion. It all began to make sense. "Ah I can see what's going on here."

"What are you talking about, shithead?" Chuuya frowned. He definitely didn't like either Dazai's tone or expression painted on his face.

"It's not nice to play dumb like that when moments earlier you accused me of it." Dazai shook his head with mock disapproval. He sighed loudly and continued. "What a plot twist. The side character of his own life finally got the girl. That doesn't happen very often. You should be proud of yourself.”

"What the fuck are you-" Taken aback, Chuuya tried to interrupt him, but Dazai didn't seem to care.

"Don’t worry, I’m not here to take her away from you. I don’t want her. Although I am a little bit curious about how she would react if she saw me down here. I wonder if she would drop everything and run into my arms. What do you think?” He continued his vicious flood of taunting words, not quite sure why he reacted so violently. Why this thought affected him so much. Why imagining her at Chuuya's side felt so... wrong. So he threw out the worst words he could muster, though he wasn't sure if he wanted to fool himself with them or hurt someone in revenge. Maybe both. Maybe he wanted to hurt himself the most.

"Oi, shut up before you say too much. You don't even know what you're talking about." Chuuya felt such an uncontrollable surge of anger that he clenched his fists with all his might.

"It's a real shame that you only have her because I left."

"Last warning, Dazai. I swear to fucking god-"

"Why, am I wrong? Or does the truth hurt you that much?" The man's fury was like fuel for Dazai at that moment. „I’m really sorry I’m the one who have to break it to you, but she would never choose you, if I stayed. No one would.” Dazai's mocking laughter assaulted every cell in Chuuya's body. He saw red. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. He didn't even fully believe that Dazai would be capable of such a thing. To torment him with such cruel words. Was he really that heartless? „Tell me Chuuya, how does it feel to pick up trash after me?”

And that was the moment when Chuuya snapped. He couldn't bear a single word more from Dazai's mouth. They all bit into his brain and sowed the seeds of doubt with their sharp fangs. So he approached him without hesitation and punched him in the face as hard as he could. Finally, silence fell.

"Try to say one more fucking word, and you won't live to see your execution."

Dazai became more serious. Flames of hatred and betrayal seemed to burn in Chuuya's azure eyes. They stared at one another intensely, as if trying to read each other's thoughts, but neither of them dared to speak a word again. That is until, after a few short moments, the echo of footsteps on the stairs reached their ears.

"Chuuya, you' down here?" Oh no. Dazai opened his eyes wider in surprise. It was a turn of events he had not predicted. His heart started pounding like crazy. No, no, no. This was not how it was supposed to be. She wasn't supposed to come here.

"Yeah, I am." Chuuya replied, completely ignoring the cuffed man, and moved toward the stairs. As soon as her familiar silhouette stood right in front of him, Dazai lost all his previous confidence. For a moment, he even had the feeling, no, he sincerely hoped, that Chuuya's punch was strong enough to knock him unconscious, and that it was all just a hallucination. He was not ready to meet her face to face. However, the moment their gazes met, he no longer had any doubts. He would recognize that pair of wistful eyes anywhere. It was her. The real her.

This did not bode well.

A hot pain spread throughout his chest. She was exactly as stunning as he remembered her. Thousands of thoughts swirled in his head. He carefully watched her escaping gaze, just to avoid looking at him. Her slightly dejected figure. Her lowered tone of voice. As if she was trying to be invisible to him. But it's hard for her to be invisible when she was the one thing in Dazai's eyes worth looking at.

He didn't pay the slightest attention to the conversation between her and Chuuya, but he didn't even look away for a moment. What a torture. Her completely ignoring Dazai was the worst form of penalty. He would have preferred a thousand times more if she had been the one to inflict punishment on him for all the mistakes of the past. Every part of his body begged for her gaze, her attention, her anger. He had to take control of himself and this situation.

"Oh, what a wonderful reunion! Would you like to join our pleasant chat?" He spoke up with an overly sweet smile. She, however, only gave him a vague glance and turned to Chuuya again.

"Give me the keys. When you're done talking to that man, just come to the car." Oh.

"That man? You wound me, darling. Is that how you greet your beloved?" Yes, that's exactly how you should greet someone like me. I should be destroyed. Please, destroy me.

"Beloved? You've got to be kidding me." The note of anger in her voice pleased Dazai. A little more and he'll get what he wants. Please make me feel something again. Make me suffer. Make me bleed.

"Oh don't be like that. It's me, your Osamu. Stop pouting and give me a hug. To the good old days." Just a little bit more.

"I know what you're trying to do and you won't succeed. You won't provoke me." Dazai fell silent. The fake smile came off his face and was replaced by shock, which unfortunately he was unable to hide. She could see right through him, couldn't she?

"Come on, why would I want to provoke you?" He laughed, yet inside he was shrieking, begging for some kind of reaction from her. He prayed that she would scream at him, cry, punch him, make a ruckus and start an apocalypse. Or that she would at least raise her voice a little and give vent to her anger. That she would make it clear to him that he was no longer welcome in her life. Anything, just so he could finally move on.

Please, I beg you, tear me down. I deserved it.

"I won't do it." She said calmly, as if reading his mind. Maybe in fact, she could read his mind. After all, she knew him better than anyone else in this world. She stepped closer to him and gazed straight into his soul with disappointed eyes. "You won't get the closure, Dazai. You don't deserve it now. Are you even aware of what you've done? You left me when I was at my lowest. I lost Ango, I lost Oda and that same night I lost you, and it was your decision to leave me. You don’t get to move on. I just hope you are doing well in your new life and it was worth destroying me completely. I really fucking hope it was worth it."

And the worst part was that... it was not worth it. He was nauseous. Every word coming out of her lips was like a dagger thrust and twisted in his heart. Of course, he was aware of what he had done to her. He wasn't that much of an idiot. But hearing it out loud hurt a thousand times more than he might have thought. He could feel Chuuya's burning gaze of hatred on him, but he didn't care. He focused all his attention on her, like a sponge absorbing the piercing words.

Her voice did not tremble. But Dazai's heart did.

"I don't think I need to tell you where to find the stuff you came here for. I bet you figured it out yourself a long time ago. Just get out of my sight and never come back. I’m not going to let you destroy everything again." And so, the two headed for the stairs without turning back. Leaving Dazai all alone with his greatest enemy. Himself.

From that point on, getting the information he wanted did not require much time or effort from him. The most effort, against all appearances, was to return home. Or rather house. He closed the apartment door behind him and sighed quietly with stale air. It could use some ventilation, that's for sure. He kicked his shoes into a corner somewhere and with a heavy step entered the room.

"I'm home." He muttered to himself. He did every single time, even if there was not a single person to answer him. Not a single person waiting for him. However, he continued this small habit, as if there was still a sliver of hope hidden deep in his heart that one day he would hear the long awaited words. Welcome home.

Home. What a strange word. What was "home" anyway? Everyone certainly has their own definition of it. Was home just a place where a person stored their belongings, spent their free time, and slept under a roof at night? Or was home the smell of a warm dinner, quiet music playing on the radio and more than one pair of shoes by the doormat? What was this enigmatic "home"?

Well, according to Dazai, home was a place on earth. A place where he could return with peace of mind, knowing that he would always be welcomed back and accepted. A place where he could remove all masks from his face and fully be himself, without fear of rejection. A place where someone would be waiting for him, who would wrap him in gentleness and patience. A place where he could die every night and be born again along with the sunrise. A small heaven on earth.

Dazai did not have a home.

Or at least not anymore.

He began to wonder if she had a home these days. Did her snow-white walls still exude the icy cold of forsaken souls and sleepless nights? Did her bedroom still smell of empty promises and broken voices? Did the phantom of the life he left behind seep into the concrete of the walls and haunt her every night?

Or maybe now the frost of her life had been replaced by a soothing warmth she had never experienced before. Maybe her living room was decorated with beautiful flowers and floating memories in photographs where her smile outshone even the summer sun. Maybe the couch was draped with soft blankets and a pile of pillows where she rested at her leisure, watching her favorite movies. Maybe there was a warm dinner waiting for her and the gentle smile of another person. Two pairs of slippers, two mugs of morning coffee and two spoons in the sink, after a late night ice cream snack.

Maybe someone had given her the home that Dazai never could.

He hoped so.

He stood in the middle of the nearly empty room and, for the first time in a long time, looked around carefully. The dark apartment without an ounce of soul was a perfect reflection of him. Devoid of any beauty, it brought no comfort, no sense of security or reassurance. Only empty walls, a bed that hadn't been made in weeks, and clothes scattered on the floor that he didn't have the energy to put back in place. It was his own hell, which reminded him of his misery and solitude every single day.

Or was it not hell? Maybe it was just purgatory. A place where he could atone for his previous life. Even if he wasn't very religious, Dazai was sure, this must be some kind of punishment. Punishment for all the crimes and sins he had committed. For all the lives he had taken, for all the blood he had spilled, for every broken bone and heart ripped from the chest. For every trigger pulled. For every family he shattered. For the fact that he was born.

He sincerely believed that someone like him should never have been born. From an early age, he had been searching for the essence of life, but he couldn't find it in anyone or anything in his path. So he gravitated to people and environments where feelings and emotions were uncannily real. Where no one bothered to mask their worst sides. Where he could observe behavior, and perhaps that way he could learn how to be human.

His biggest mistake, however, was seeking the meaning of life in a place that ended it without hesitation. He hoped that in the raw emotions of the murderers, he would find the truth about what really makes a person human. And all he found was his own downfall.

However, in the midst of this chaos of death and doom, there was also her. In her hard shell hiding a beauty that Dazai was not worthy enough to see. Her cold hands covered in gold so delicately put his fragments together as if he were fragile porcelain. He probably never gave a hint of it, but her every word touched a depth of his soul he didn't even know he had. In her coldness, she was warm like oozing blood, dripping slowly onto the melting snow. She was a breath of fresh air after a midnight downpour. The first sip of morning coffee. She was beautiful. Beautiful in such an incomprehensible way that Dazai never saw anyone like her again.

On a daily basis, she was surrounded by an aura of composure and calm. A determined gaze always focused on the goal. Ready to do anything to achieve it. Confident, unstoppable, merciless. Yet she was at the same time the embodiment of comfort and understanding. She never judged. She made everyone at the bar laugh with her sense of humor, and her breakfasts were the best he had ever had. Existence with her by his side was a little more bearable.

Above all, however, she was too good for him. Too understanding, too patient, too caring. She didn't care for him the way a person would care for a small child. She didn't hover over him, she didn't pander to his every whim, she didn't flood him with a wave of affectionate words. Most of the time, in complete silence, she simply stayed by his side, absorbing together the frost of the morning and the frost of their hearts. And that was enough.

Oh how dare he hurt her like that?

However, Dazai knew that he was no good to her. He was only giving her a substitute for what she really needed. What she really deserved. Even if she was a ruthless mafia executive, ready to pull the trigger at any moment, taking lives exactly like him, without hesitation. She was something more. Or at least in Dazai's eyes.

He did not yet understand the concept of love back then. In fact, he probably still didn't fully understand it. However, at the time, these feelings overwhelmed him. He wasn't used to the racing heartbeat, the burning warmth in his chest and the indescribable attachment that pushed him to spend every possible moment by her side. He wasn't used to it and was terrified by it. He was terrified by the very sound of the cursed word. He was terrified by the dependence on another human being and the prospect that sooner or later he might lose her. How would he survive losing her after exposing his whole heart? He knew that the best way out was to end their relationship before it developed. Nevertheless, he selfishly allowed himself to bask in her presence a moment too long. Then unforgiving fate proved to him once again that everything he ever wanted would be taken away from him.

He realized that his leave from the mafia would bring much suffering. What he didn't expect, however, was that most of that suffering would fall on him. Perhaps it was for the best. After all, he was the evil of this world. An outcast, looking for his own place, yet never knowing how to fully fit in.

Oh what in the world had he done? Was it all really worth it? Was abandoning everything just to fulfill a dying friend's last wish actually his path? Or did he make an irreversible mistake? Regardless, there was no turning back. Nor a chance to make things right again.

He did not predict the consequences. Oh how painfully he did not predict the consequences of this rash fulfillment of a promise. The beginning was not so bad. He disappeared from the face of the earth, holed up in his own world and waited patiently for the smoke of confusion caused by his disappearance to slowly settle. Time, however, verified him. His life completely lost any leftover shine and color, and turned into a pure attempt to exist from day to day. Dazai stopped living. Dazai began to vegetate.

And what's the point in that? What's the point in fighting every morning, only to spend another day in solitude and go to bed with the same sense of hopelessness as the day before? What is the point? The thing is, there is no point. That's why in Dazai's life, death was not a terrifying vision of the unknown, it was like a beautiful salvation, saving him from the burden of life on earth. From the weight of regret, remorse and rejection. He clung to the concept of death like a drowning man grasping at a razor, as his last resort. There were days when he desired it more than anything else in the world. To end this never-ending string of failures and disappointments. To close his eyes once and for all and finally truly rest. From the world, from people, from suffering. From himself.

Oh what a pathetically weak man he was. All it took was a moment, one look in her direction and a few words flowing from between her lips to shake the foundation of the entire new life he had built from scratch. But how could he ignore the blistering pain in his heart and the weight in his throat, brutally falling into his stomach? He couldn't get rid of the memory of her fleeing gaze, just to avoid catching eye contact with him. Her defensive posture, as if his very presence was a threat to her and an agonizing pain. And maybe it was. It probably was.

He saw her in many different situations. He saw rage emanating from her eyes and ripping out of her throat, he saw sadness overwhelming her mind and he saw joy filling the room with sunshine. He saw it all. However, he had never seen her so defeated and retreating. Or at least he had never been the one she was pulling away from. The realization flashed through his mind that he would probably never see her sincere smile ever again. And that thought somehow hurt him particularly deeply.

He began to wonder how their lives would have turned out if he had stayed in the mafia instead. Would they still be inseparable, giving each other every bit of warmth they could ever muster? Maybe they would have been more than just souls suspended in the void, accompanying each other through the hardships of the world. Maybe they would have crossed that invisible barrier and become something more. Maybe they would have learned to love. Or maybe their paths would have drifted apart over time, leaving a bitter aftertaste of shattered hope in their mouths. What if they met now? If they had met when Dazai had already abandoned his merciless alter ego, would their story have turned out differently? Oh how Dazai longed at least for a moment to go back in time and shake the younger version of himself. To tell him to come to his senses, that it's not worth it. That he is irreversibly losing something from his life that will never happen again.

He cringed at the very memory of his cruel words that he sometimes threw in her direction. How he used to reject her without a second thought and throw her out of his life. How brutally he was able to break her spirit time and time again, only to return the next day as if nothing had ever happened. He continually left her in darkness, doubt and despair, making her look for a way back on her own, while he reached out to her without hesitation, whenever he got a little lost. He wasn't being fair. He knew it.

He only hoped that someday she would be able to forgive him. Because he will never be able to forgive himself.

Maybe that was the sign that he had actually changed. Living in the light gave him a different perspective on the world. And because of this, the mistakes he made in the past weighed on his shoulders more than he could carry. So he kept collapsing. Every single day. And there was no one left to pick him up.

Dazai was so painfully miserable.

And now he was alone. Completely alone. Despite his daily conversations with his colleagues at the agency, despite the morning calls from an impatient Kunikida who rushed him to work, despite the smile that graced his face every day, he was alone. Like a clown performing in a circus, his each and every day began to resemble a pathetic performance more than actual life. Pretending as if he had not been dying the night before.

So in the end, was it really worth it? Wasn't he supposed to be happy by doing the right thing? Why was he so wretched, even though he did everything Odasaku asked him to do, letting out that one final breath on his deathbed? Could it be possible that Odasaku was wrong? Is it selfish of Dazai to regret his decision at times? Is it really that selfish of him to want to return to where he was truly happy? Even if only a little? To that questions, and a thousand others, Dazai unfortunately did not know the answer.

Of one thing he was sure. The night that would prove to be his demise, the night he would finally place a delicate kiss on death's lips, he will whisper into the eternal immensity of the sky. He will whisper as if he is whispering in her ear one last time. Hoping that the moon will carry his voice and reach her soul.

I'm sorry I was too terrified to love you.

[catnatch]

Idk how much does this fit the kind of asks you are/were accepting, but I just saw your Yosuke redraw on Twitter and a mini thread with that Namatame scene. I loved reading you mini analysis, and connection with Yosuke's Shadow. Idk if you could elaborate even more on the subject, but wow i just loved seeing those manga panels, the whole implication that he was willing to become the bad guy for a supposedely 'good motive' and your reading on it. In any case thank you. Those tweets did something in my brain (in a positive way). I do think that Yosuke is a good person with a wonderful heart, but i really liked this whole idea of how did confronting his Shadow affected him (to a point that he does not even want the others to know what happened there, be it because he was embarrassed or even for other motives). Ty ^^

(context for anyone happening upon this ask!) and i'll put the manga panels wholesale here

the thing about the IT's Shadows is i genuinely think Yosuke (and Chie's) are the only ones that really expose negative traits. the others are embarrassing sure, and it's easy to see how they'd feel bad about it, but those two are the only ones who express any sort of ahhh let's say malicious emotions. even though they are perfectly natural feelings (and honestly i love the trope of people allowing themselves to feel "bad" emotions; it's how they act on it, ultimately)

Yosuke is really really not stupid. i would argue he's the character who gives the most thought into he is/who he wants to be, even though he's maybe not the best at getting to that goal (and he is only 17). he can be too harsh on natural emotions and reactions [ie getting upset at people bullying him, crying, wanting to feel Special], while letting his actual harmful traits slide for the sake of fitting in (especially the role he thinks he should play). and he does continue to contemplate what his Shadow said throughout his social link (and i am superimposing the game's context onto the manga it's different i knoooow), both to downplay himself and as an effort to change. i think he does tend to overthink himself- in large part to perfectly play that role- and, in the context of the above panels, that can magnify his own "negative" traits to himself. Yosuke's shadow had said that he only entered the TV purely as a way to be entertained/feel important, and that's exactly what he's assumed about the killer's motivation. so what makes him better than the bad guy?

[spencers-renaissance]

let him be soft (and let him be mine) p.1

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel.

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better.

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.4k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Colab Alert! Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She will be posting part 2 and 3 of her edit tomorrow and Friday respectively, and I'll be posting part 2 of this fic on Friday, too!! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

The Poem:

Please, let him be soft.

I know you made him       with gunmetal bones      and wolf’s teeth. I know you made him to be      a warrior      a soldier      a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp and even wolf’s teeth can dull and I do not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames      the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me  that the world needs him. The world needs his heart      and his faith      and his courage      and his strength      and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his– The world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world,      and damn you too. Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him,      damn anyone that ever took anything from him,            damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. You know that he will give them everything      until there is nothing left of him          but the imprint of dust               where his feet once trod. You know that he will bear the world like Atlas     until his shoulders collapse          and his knees buckle               and he is crushed by all he used to carry.

Dear God,  you have already made an Atlas. You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules.  You have already made so many heroes, and you can make another again.  You can have your pick of heroes.

So please, I beg you– he is all that I have,  and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more.  Let him be soft,  and let him be mine.

—Please, let him be happy ( j.p. )

The Fic:

Spencer offers Derek a weak smile as they sink into their seats on the jet. It’s all he can really manage, considering the emotional exhaustion the case had brought on, fatigue settling deep into his bones as he relaxes into the comfortable fabric of his chair. He keeps his eyes closed to avoid Derek’s anxious, imploring gaze for as long as possible, but he can’t help them opening on instinct as soon as the plane takes off the ground, and his stomach does its familiar vault at the increasing G forces.

“Baby?” Derek asks softly, as soon as he sees Spencer’s eyes flutter open. “What’s wrong?”

Spencer sighs, turning his head to face the evening sunset for a brief moment before looking back to his boyfriend. “I’m just tired, Der,” he lies, throwing in what he hopes is a reassuring smile to try and seal the deal.

It seems to work, some of the anxiety relaxing from his face — though, Spencer notes, the slightly pained expression remains — as he reaches across the table in between them to take Spencer’s hand. He complies, placing his hand in Derek’s and allowing himself to relish in the comfort of his warm, protective hold despite how he’s feeling.

“I’m sorry, Spence. We’ll get dinner from that Thai place and head straight to bed when we get home, yeah? You’ll feel better then.”

Spencer can’t help the flare of anger in his chest at that — so strong he has to shut his eyes tightly against it for a second. How can Derek not realise what’s wrong? How can he sit opposite him, bruised, cracked ribs and all, and not understand that everything is not at all ‘eat Thai food in bed’ okay?

He forces his eyes open again. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Derek squeezes his hand once before letting go and thankfully, finally, dropping the subject. The sunset is a pretty blend of pinks and oranges as they fly down from New Jersey towards home, but Spencer doesn’t focus on the aesthetics of the sky. Not when that awful, tiny voice keeps whispering in the back of his head: how many sunsets does Derek have left?

⭐️

It might have been a lie, but the tired excuse seems to work. Derek doesn’t try to make conversation with him on the drive to DC, instead settling for reassuring touches that Spencer finds himself pressing back into despite himself.

He dives straight for the shower once they get back to their apartment, vaguely hearing Derek on the phone placing their standard Thai order as he sheds his restrictive suit and steps into the shower, immediately relaxing as the hot water cascades down his back. All of a sudden, the weight of the case catches up to him and he lets himself cry. Afterall, his desperate, grief-filled sobs can’t be heard over the water and he can blame his sore, red eyes on the shampoo.

When his tears eventually dry up and he exits the warm bathroom into the air-conditioned apartment, Derek’s sat on the edge of their bed fiddling with his phone next to an outfit of Spencer’s favourite loungewear neatly laid out. He always does it and it always makes Spencer smile, but this time his heart just clenches painfully and he has to fight back the hot tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“Hey, baby,” Derek says, voice concerned at the sight of his visibly upset boyfriend. His wince as he gets off the bed to come over to Spencer is the final straw, though, and he can’t help the violent, choked sob that forces its way past his lips, his body heaving with the myriad of emotions running rampant. “Spencer?”

He ignores him as he drops his towel and hurriedly pulls on the clothes Derek set out for him, tears spilling down his cheeks one after the other, indicating no sign of slowing down anytime soon.

“Spencer? Baby?” he pleads desperately as Spencer continues to ignore him. “I know you’re tired, but this isn’t like you. Why—”

“No!” he cries, turning to face him. “It’s not like me! Because even though I feel like this after every case I’m usually so good at holding it in! But I can’t do it anymore, Derek. I can’t keep feeling like this.”

“Baby, talk to me,” Derek begs. “We can work this out, we’ll figure this out together, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

All of a sudden, it’s too much. Standing there in their bedroom facing his injured, self-sacrificing, perfect boyfriend as emotion and fear choke the life out of him is killing him, and all he can do is grab his phone, hastily pull on a pair of shoes, and run out of the apartment.

If it wasn’t for his bruised ribs — Christ, if it wasn’t for Derek being shot not four hours earlier — Spencer never would have outrun him, but as it stands, he escapes the apartment building with only Derek’s pleading cries following him.

He runs through the streets of DC, half-blind from unshed tears, until he sees a bus coming down the road, and before he can overthink it, he’s boarding, paying, and taking a seat right at the back. The streets outside blur as the bus accelerates down the street and the tears he’d been holding back since he left the apartment, spill over, joining the countless tear tracks already decorating his cheeks.

Soon he’s not seeing the vibrant streets of the Adams Morgan district anymore, his brain replaying the shoot-out that ended the case instead. They’d finally cornered their suspect in a dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere, and Spencer had honestly thought that their attempts to talk him down were working, when he’d suddenly pointed his gun straight at JJ. Derek had easily predicted his next move and wasted no time in pushing her out the way, diving straight into the bullet’s trajectory, shot in the middle of his vest.

Hotch had taken care of the unsub and Spencer had gone straight to Derek’s side, his heart in his mouth as fear overrode rationality with ease. He’d been fine: checked out by an ambulance on site and prescribed some moderate painkillers and a few days rest until his ribs healed up, but Spencer had struggled to see it so positively.

Anger flares up in his chest again at the memory of Derek’s blatant disregard for his own well-being. JJ’s a trained and experienced agent: she could have shot the unsub before he even took the shot if Derek hadn’t pushed her aside, and even if she hadn’t, why was it better for Derek to take the bullet than JJ?

As much as he tries not to take it personally, part of him can’t really help but feel hurt. What if the bullet had missed the vest? What if Derek was really shot? He could have so easily died — in an alternate universe, Spencer is mourning the tragic loss of his boyfriend right now. Does he really not care that all this heroic self-sacrifice could leave Spencer a grieving widow one day?

He feels selfish. The world needs Derek: it needs his heart and his courage and his fierce sense of justice, it needs him to fight for the underdog, it needs him to stop at nothing to apprehend the bad guy, it needs anything he can give them.

But in this moment, Spencer doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care about what the world needs. He cares about what Dr Spencer Reid, book nerd and genius prodigy of Nevada needs, and that’s his boyfriend, alive, next to him.

The bus passes a church and Spencer immediately presses the button, getting off at the next stop and retracing the road until he’s standing in front of the beautiful architecture of a Catholic Church. Peace and quiet is exactly what he needs right now, so he takes a deep breath and walks through the heavy wooden doors into the building.

The smell Spencer associates with the churches he’d visit in his childhood when William would dress them up and parade them around a church as the perfect little family for as long as Diana’s meds lasted hits him as soon as he crosses the threshold, and something about it feels comforting. He walks through the small foyer and into the main congregation hall, thankful that no service is taking place. There’s a woman in a pew at the front with her head bowed, but otherwise it’s completely empty, and it emboldens him enough to slip into the back row.

He lets himself zone out, taking in the stained glass windows and the elaborate arcades as well as the ornate statues and decorations around the nave as his mind finally drifts from the torture of his thoughts.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice asks, snapping him out of his trance. He looks over to see a priest standing just to his right, a kind look on his face.

“Uh— yes,” Spencer replies, a little flustered. “Very. An old friend of mine did a PhD in the history of church architecture years ago, but even his high praise doesn’t do it justice in person.”

“Not a regular church-goer, I take it?” the priest asks, smiling warmly.

“Not sure the church would be happy to have me,” he says drily, “on the account that I live with my boyfriend.”

The priest’s face saddens at that. “Would you mind if I sat?”

“As long as you don’t try and convert me.”

He laughs at that, taking a seat next to Spencer. “That’s not my job anyway,” he reassures him. “God takes care of that side of things.”

Spencer nods once, before looking down at his fidgeting fingers.

“What’s led a non-Christian to a Catholic Church on a random Tuesday evening, then?” the priest asks warmly.

“Oh… I’m not sure you’d want to hear about it,” Spencer says awkwardly, blushing a bit at the thought of discussing his relationship troubles with a priest.

“Try me.”

Spencer takes a deep breath. After all, he desperately wants to talk about this with someone, and who better than a completely impartial person whose opinion doesn’t matter anyway?

“I work for the FBI,” he starts, “I have done for nearly a decade now. It’s where I met my boyfriend, actually; we work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I love the job, it’s given me pretty much everything I have, really, but… but I don’t know how much longer I can do it.” He takes a shaky breath in to try and abate the tears again, but when the priest lays a warm hand over his own, he can’t hold them back anymore.

“Derek— Derek is so strong. He’s fierce and he’s powerful and he’s a hero, and I used to be so proud of him for that, I still am, but now… all it does is scare me. Today he took a bullet for another team member, he pushed her out of the way and it landed in his own vest. He’s fine, but this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He’s run into burning buildings, driven bombs across cities to stop them from blowing up in a populated area, thrown himself into the line of fire to save others countless times, but one day… he won’t be so lucky.

“One day, it’s going to catch up to him, and he’s going to be killed by his own calling. He’s so selfless that he’s truly going to give everything to the job until it kills him… and where does that leave me?” He looks up and meets the priest’s kind, empathetic gaze for the first time, comforted by the reassurance he finds there.

“I never really had a family. My father walked out when I was ten and left me with my sick and confused mother, knowing that she couldn’t take care of me, knowing that he was leaving his child to take care of his mother for the next eight years. When I found the BAU, I found a family, and I found Derek. I love my whole team, but when it comes down to it, he’s all I really have left.

“If he stays in this job, I’m going to end up alone. There will never be another person for me, not after Derek. When people sit in this very building and pray for justice,” Spencer says tearily, “God answers that prayer with Derek Morgan. And those prayers, those pleas for mercy are going to take him away from me one day.”

The priest sits quietly for a moment, thinking, maybe praying, as he bows his head. “Child, God makes heroes for a reason. I know he’s so proud of Derek, that he cherishes all the lives he’s saved, but I also know that God cherishes Derek’s life, and yours, too. Derek sounds like the kind of person who loves with his whole heart, and I suspect that he loves you deeply. The Bible teaches us the importance of kind and honest communication, as well as the value in understanding the people you love, and I think you know that your only shot at a happy ending here is to tell Derek all that you’ve told me.”

Spencer’s always rejected the idea of telling Derek how much it breaks his heart to see him running at danger head on because he can’t think of any possible resolution they could come to — it’s not like he can simply turn off his self-sacrificing tendencies — but he doesn’t really see any other way out now.

He looks up at the priest. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m not sure I have any other choice.”

“I’ll leave you to your peace and quiet,” he says as he gets up to leave, “but please never think that God doesn’t want to know you because of your loving relationship with Derek. He loves you both so much.”

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

I hope you enjoyed part one of this fic - please go and check out Emily's edit here!

PART TWO

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoopc@marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

[tokyoghoose]

something that never was

pairing: daisuke kambe x reader

playlist: even if it's a lie - matt maltese*, a soulmate who wasn't meant to be - jessica benko, the less i know the better - tame impala, id rather go blind - beyonce ( cadillac records ), the house we never built - gabrielle aplin*, i cant make you love me - dave thomas junior, i go crazy - orla gartland, blow my brains out - tikkle me, hidden in the sand - tally hall

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating,

summary: the coldness he radiates gets the best of you, ultimately leading to the end.

announcements!

i dont really see daisuke cheating unless it was a misunderstanding or smth, but i liked the idea of this fic. Let me know what you think!

you can tell i didnt write this in a sitting lol. Im vv sorry if it's hard to follow!

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

There's a warm body beside you, yet the bed feels cold. The arm around your waist feels almost as foreign as the face in front of you. It hurts to look at him, to feel him. It hurts to even be around him. He's so beautiful but he feels like half the man he once was. It's disheartening.

Maybe the saying, what you don't know can't hurt you is correct because you were feeling the repercussions right about now. Curiosity really did kill the cat, and at this point, you don't even know how to get satisfaction from it. How does one bring up cheating to their partner? Especially when the partner is like Daisuke.

He likes to brush things off without paying a price except for whatever was in his bank account, the type to hand you a card and say 'go get yourself something pretty.' And it wasn't like he was a bad lover, in fact, it was very easy to fall in love with him. He has a charm about him that's magnetic, one glance and suddenly it's impossible to look away. Or at least that was your experience.

With the final confirmation that closing your eyes will do nothing other than bringing pictures into your head, you turn your back to him and try and distance your body from his. It doesn't do anything to help when he pulls you closer subconsciously, except for maybe it makes you want to cry.

You'd confront him tomorrow, you decided.

If you need to.

———

The pace you set is leisure and if kt wasn't for the poor nail bed quickly coming to nothing, it'd seem like you weren't completely losing your head. It's all you can think about. Daisuke out with some girl—who you know for a fact isn't his sister, and who is all over him. He didn't even make a move to push her off! He hates that kind of attention so if he didn't object it, then he was asking for it. He wanted the girl on his side. In fact, for someone who insists the other person sits across from him at a restaurant- he looked quite comfortable with her nearly in his lap.

Maybe you're overthinking this, y/n.

The door clicks open and your ears strain to hear the sound of Daisuke's dress shoes. He's rather indulgent when it comes to dressing wear and the shoes were practically silent, even with the short heel on the back.

"I'm home." He says to no one particular, taking off his trenchcoat and hanging it on the rack beside the door. He stops his path to the bedroom when he sees you frozen in place and staring in the living room. He merely quirks a brow, going to take off his suit and tie.

Suddenly you can't speak and you have tunnel vision. It's unfair how calm he always looks—it's almost smug like he knows everything about you and more. Like he can read your mind and tell you your darkest thoughts and when you'll die because let's be honest, it'll probably be by his hand. Maybe you should back out now before you can say anything. Forget it all because what if you're mistaken? The more you think, the more weight is added onto your shoulders and the more it pushes you down, down further into the hole you want to crawl into. Maybe you should let it because all you want to do now is escape his piercing gaze. His eyes are studying you, taking in your form and the cogs in his brain are turning to find an explanation as to why you are standing there like a psychopath and not welcoming him home like you usually do.

You feel like you're drowning. Is the light getting dimmer? The black around your vision only seems to close in around Daisuke and you try to look anywhere else but his face. There's water in your ears, the popping of them only intensifies until you can feel it pounding into your head with faint static.

Am I going to pass out?

It's not until his hand comes down gently on your shoulder that the closing circle of vision widens out and suddenly all the imaginary water rushes from your ears. You glance down at his rings before back up him, barely catching the end of his words.

"Are you alright?"

He's never been one to beg, so you would have to answer now or he'll leave it be for the rest of the night and probably months after until you're like this again.

"I-can we talk?"

He eyes you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes and keeping his brow raised before nodding, slipping his tie off around his neck, folding it neatly into the palm of his hand. He gestures for you to start the conversation, going to the minibar curving around the kitchen and living area.

When you don't reply he urges you on, "Why so tense? Did something happen, darling?"

It'd seem like he didn't really care from how cold his voice was, but you've grown accustomed to the monotone to know that he truly is concerned for your health. He genuinely wants to know why you're acting so odd. It only makes this so much harder? You're wrong- you have to be. This must be a sick trick your brain has played on you. Or he must be playing some sick trick.

Anxiety settles itself into your gut and it seems like it won't leave anytime soon.

"Daisuke, are...- are you cheating on me?"

His eyebrows finally go lax but he doesn't look up from unbuttoning the cuffs of his white button-down. His fingers fidget at the buttons and instead of the previous loose form, his hand forms a fist.

"I- "

"Why—exactly, are you accusing me of this?"

His gaze sends chills down your spine. He's offended but he doesn't offer a defense. Suddenly your mouth is dry and you lose all your words? How exactly were you going to tell him you stumbled across him and some woman in a restaurant and practically stared them down for fifteen minutes.

You decide the bear it and swallow a lump that has formed in your throat.

"You were with a woman earlier this week snd well, the displays of affection that I saw were not very like you. You've been gone for long hours and even if you blamed it on the new job, Daisuke—you never tell me anything. Is she for a case? Are you using her for information? Go on, tell me about it. Give me a reason not to accuse you."

You regain your confidence but it falters when you meet his indifferent expression. You'd prefer it if he looked angry and the silence that fills the room is deafening and the tension suffocating.

"I can't tell you anything about our cases-"

"I'm your partner! What am I going to do? Rat you out to whoever is breaking the law? Why would I even how those connections, Daisuke?"

Daisuke inhales deeply through his nose like this whole conversation is a burden on him and you can't help but feel like a burden too. Was this relationship not worth the time to talk this out? One hand grips the bar and the other pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You aren't my partner, you're my fiance. My partner and I work together. So, no. I can't tell you about the cases."

You want to rip out your hair. This isn't about his stupid job or his stupid partner. This is about the dumb fucking restaurant and the dumb fucking woman who was hanging off him.

He can't actually be this dense!

"It's not about that! Either you aren't getting the point or you keep changing the subject because it's true!" Your voice rises in pitch, your confidence failing and turning more so into desperation. But you aren't crying yet. There are no tears and your eyes are dry and you absolutely refuse to cry in front of a Kambe.

It's like the beginning of your relationship all over again. A protective barrier around yourself so you don't get hurt and offended by his cold shoulder. Was it so bad to think you've moved on from that feeling? Why is it so difficult for him to just comfort you and push back those fears? Is he that emotionally stunted? You may not know much about his past and his family, but damn— at least you're trying to work through it with him. Can he put out a little more effort?

All he does is pour himself a glass. All he does... is pour himself a glass.

"You know what- forget it. If you're so entitled and so emotionally reserved that you can't even talk to me without a drink first, then I guess we'll talk about it another time—when you don't look like my voice gives you a headache."

Daisuke actually looks taken back by your words and you suddenly feel bad for hitting a sore spot. He may not have shown it often, but he doesn't particularly like not being able to show his true emotions; no matter the reason being.

"Y/N, wait.."

But you're back on adrenaline just as soon as he felt a drop, pushing past him to get to your coat. You just needed to calm down before you said something you'd truly regret. Words tended to stay in his mind much longer than they were intended to.

"I'm staying at my mother's. Don't call me, don't text me, don't come near me until you're ready to tell me what the hell you were doing with her. "

When he doesn't say anything more and you can practically hear the cogs in his head turn, you make your way out there door, making sure to slam it shut.

You slip on the coat angrily, slamming open the door without sparing him a glance but waiting for him to say something. Anything. Were you being too rash? You shake your head and scold yourself, mentally. You can't just turn around now, not after an outburst like that. He has to learn something from this.

Irrational or not, hopefully, his true colors would show.

[obscure-sentimentalist]

flommy, “I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

[So this one’s been nagging at me for probably about a year now? It had been sitting half-started for ages, as I never really knew how to carry out the idea I had, but I did my best in coming back to it now. Bit lighter on the Flommy interactions this time, but in exchange we get Tommy and Thea siblingness and some Tommy thoughts.]

From the Comforting Cuddles starters list

“What do you think about ‘I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you’?”

“Do you need me to take you to the ER?” Thea deadpans from her perch on the cushioned window seat in Tommy’s room of the hotel suite without looking up from her phone. “Because it sounds like you got one of those Hallmark cards from the airport gift shop lodged in your throat.”

Tommy slowly lowers his own phone and rolls his head towards his sister, expression settling into one of loving annoyance. “What I’m getting out of that is that I have a future in the greeting card industry.”

“The future you should be more concerned about is the one where I spin-kick you in the head before the emotional trauma of hearing my brother workshopping romantic texts to his girlfriend sets in.”

“Hey, I’m keeping it perfectly PG,” Tommy defends, pointing at Thea with his free hand for emphasis.

That finally gets her to set her phone aside and swivel in her seat to face Tommy, giving him a striking, raised-eyebrow look. “I think the subject matter automatically makes it PG-13.”

“It’s a hotel bed!” Any exasperation behind the words trips right out of the gate, stumbling into nervous laughter.

Thea just continues to stare, swinging her legs back-and-forth unevenly as her feet dangle above the floor.

“That’s… achieved the perfect ratio of softness to firmness for an excellent night’s sleep?” Tommy can feel his ears reddening as they disappear into his shoulders. “Also, those pillows. Heavenly. Remind me to check with management to find out who the supplier is, I’m going to place a personal bulk order once we get back to Starling.”

“Right,” Thea says slowly, legs finally stilling. “So the high-quality comfiness is the thing worth writing home about. No other reason why you’d express missing having a plus-one to enjoy it.”

Had his mouth not dropped open with a scandalized pop instead, Tommy might have swallowed his tongue. “Thea Dearden Queen, you’re going to stop right there before I also ask about the hotel’s highest-strength cleaning supplies and if they can be applied directly to my brain.”

“You asked for critique,” Thea reminds him, but backs off by raising her hands sarcastically in surrender. “Just pointing out insinuations you may or may not have intended. You’re welcome.”

Chagrined by both the acknowledgement that he’d asked for help and his sister’s frankness in delivering said feedback, Tommy turns his attention back to the blinking cursor in the half-filled message box. The wittiness of the greeting has dulled significantly since the lightbulb first flicked on, even without the suggestive commentary. It’s a grim admission that spurs Tommy’s thumb to find the delete key and hold, consuming the carefully-crafted words before his eyes until he’s greeted once again by blank space.

The fact that Thea’s sigh is louder than his own is what pries Tommy away from his seemingly insurmountable task with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You really haven’t done this sort of thing before, have you?” Thea asks, waving a hand vaguely at the room as she sinks back against the window. “The out-of-town business trip.”

Admitting defeat (at least for the moment), Tommy tosses the phone onto the bed and crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I mean, if my business was pleasure...”

“So no, then,” Thea cuts in with a fond eye-roll. Her face goes soft a moment later, though, and she glances back at Tommy with a strange sort of knowingness. “Which means you especially haven’t done it when you’ve been in an actual relationship.”

Tommy offers up an entirely sheepish look. “I think that’s a given.”

Thea makes a little shrug-like expression with her lips, conceding that point. She pulls one foot up to rest on the cushion and hugs her knee to her chest, before giving Tommy another gently pointed stare. “It’s okay, you know.”

“Hmm?” Tommy rocks back on his heels as he lets the questioning hum slip, and rolls his lips under for a façade of innocence. These last few exchanges have been drawing them dangerously close to vulnerable topics—it’s still Tommy’s carefully-wired reflex to either clown about it or just play dumb.

Too bad Thea knows those moves when she sees them, and her narrowed eyes suggest that she’s still considering the earlier threat of a spin-kick in the head.

“It’s okay to miss her,” she says, stripping Tommy’s anxieties bare with a single statement.

For a split second, he thinks he might have preferred stewing in the awkward surrounding the Bed Text for just a bit longer. Incidental innuendoes are familiar territory, even if being called out for them by his younger sister adds a new layer of humiliation.

The notion doesn’t linger, though, but it’s due less to the embarrassment than it is to his brain bouncing from point to point like a pinball machine from hell. The mortification just ricochets back to the almost-slip in question, and—true to pattern as of late—propels his thoughts to a flare of fondness and Felicity. The thing that makes Tommy want to bury his face in one of the pillows that started it all, though, is the fact that the ball rebounds again to the current conversation, seemingly inescapable.

“It’s not weird?” The question comes hesitantly as he uncrosses his arms, immediately bringing one hand to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s only two nights, and one already down—we’re back by tomorrow afternoon, no time at all. I feel like it’s too much, just me being unreasonably clingy.”

Experience seems to back up that impression, after all. Two years, five, more have created gulfs between Tommy and his loved ones, and even then, his longing and loneliness came off as exaggerated and one-sided.

But maybe that’s not entirely fair, he immediately scrambles to note. Oliver was working through his own problems at the time (in questionably-at-best healthy ways), caught up in a different storm of emotion and trauma that instinctively repelled Tommy—familiar magnets flipped to the same pole for the very first time. Perhaps it took more time and effort than either of them could have expected, and still never returned them to where they left off, but they did manage to establish a balance better suited to who they are now.

(Even Tommy’s being in this hotel room—as one of three co-owners of Verdant, joining Thea in exploring options for expanding the club outside of Starling—is evidence enough of that reconciliation and understanding.)

As for his father’s absence and return…

Well, any expression of emotion comes off as an overreaction when compared to Malcolm, and should not be counted.

Almost as if she senses Tommy’s once-solid evidence crumbling to dust, Thea pushes off the window seat, landing gracefully on her feet. “You’re overthinking this, especially with the texts. Just call her, all right? We don’t need to head out for at least another hour, so there’s plenty of time.”

Still lagging a little bit from trying to detangle his anxieties, Tommy nods absently in agreement as his eyes follow Thea’s movements towards the door. When she crosses the threshold to head back into the suite’s living area, though, his brain finally catches up. “Hey! How is it that you’re the one giving me relationship advice?”

Thea grips the doorframe and leans her full body back into the room, one eyebrow arched as she tilts her head to look at him.

“I mean, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? You know, older brother’s prerogative and all?” Tommy defends weakly, wilting under the sharp stare.

“Seeing as I ended up with emotionally-constipated brothers on both sides, I think that privilege has been revoked,” Thea declares, smoothly propelling herself back upright and reaching for the doorknob. She pulls it behind her as she finally departs, but not before shooting Tommy a cheeky, “I’ll give you some privacy to relay the magical properties of a hotel bed.”

Tommy imagines his immediate response is the sound an ostrich would make if strangled. “Okay, look…”

The door closes firmly before he can get any more words out, but not fast enough that he doesn’t catch Thea’s laughter.

“Brat,” Tommy mutters affectionately under his breath, before teetering backwards to flop down on said bed. The impact bounces his phone an inch or two above the comforter, only to land face-down right next to his hip.

Tommy’s breath catches in his chest as his attention is drawn again to the device, a mere hand-twitch within reach. Hardly any effort at all to pick up, and selecting Felicity’s name from his recent call log to re-dial is no more complex a step. But his hand seems to be declining all calls from his brain, remaining unmoving at his side without even an itch in the fingertips.

He’s overreacting—he has to be, and for real this time. It’s been barely a day since his standard morning protest of Felicity’s alarm (involving an exaggerated yawn and an arm stretched across her stomach to secure her in place for just a bit longer) was met with a laugh and a set of ice-cold toes pressed to his shins in retaliation. Barely a day since Tommy lumbered past the bathroom door on his way to the kitchen and couldn’t (wouldn’t) fight the grin that bloomed upon overhearing Felicity’s murmur-singing of some earworm while getting ready. Barely a day since she’d swept into the kitchen, all color and curls, to accept the travel mug of coffee from Tommy’s hands in exchange for a soft, lingering kiss and wishes for a safe flight.

A one-day break from routine—one that’s still a few months fresh, at that—and certain comfort shouldn’t be this jarring, should it?

After all, it’s not like they’ve been completely out of contact for the last 24 hours. Tommy had passed along travel updates (and a couple pictures taken mid-flight of Thea, tuned out with her neck pillow, eye mask, and earbuds); in turn, Felicity had relayed the shift between her day and night jobs, and confirmed her safe return home following the latter. There may temporarily be a few hundred miles of physical distance between them, but Felicity is still firmly here in Tommy’s life.

And yet, he can’t help but linger on the memory of waking this morning: rolling onto his stomach and reaching across the bed, only for his arm to land flat atop a mattress completely devoid of another body’s warmth. How the confusion and pinprick of hurt struck faster than the recognition that said bed wasn’t his own and why, and the clarity only served to transform it into a yearning ache. Even brushing his teeth was a more solemn affair, with Tommy still half-listening for Felicity puttering around and starting her day.

Maybe Thea… has a point.

Before Tommy can tend to the gentle bruise to his ego from admitting his younger sister has relationship wisdom where he does not, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. Synapses finally firing as they should, his hand wraps around the device and lifts it to his face to glance at the screen.

His fingers nearly fumble and drop the phone directly onto his face when he sees Felicity’s contact photo (one he’d surreptitiously taken shortly after they’d moved in together, when he’d caught her pleasantly lost in thought at the kitchen table) and the banner requesting a video call.

Thankfully, Tommy manages to spare himself that painful landing by adjusting his grip and scooting back into a seated position against the headboard. He takes and releases a deep breath to compose himself, before his thumb finds the Accept button.

Within an instant of Felicity coming into focus, Tommy feels his lips tug into a broad smile to compliment her still-sleepy one.

“Morning,” she greets with a little finger-wiggling wave, before she pulls a steaming mug of coffee into view with her other hand. After a second, she curls her fingers into her palm and wrinkles her nose in thought. “Wow, that was weird.”

“What, saying ‘good morning’?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Felicity mirrors the expression and throws in a shrug. “I rarely get to open with it, at least. It’s usually beat out by someone requesting that I ‘please keep hands and feet and body inside the bed at all times’.”

“Always best to take those safety messages seriously, you know,” Tommy notes sagely. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitching, threatening an even bigger smile, but the impulse immediately extinguishes once he sees Felicity worrying her lower lip between her teeth and averting her gaze in uncertainty.

“I missed it today,” she blurts, catching them both off-guard after a (seemingly agonizingly long) beat. A light flush comes to her cheeks at that, but she confidently lifts her eyes back to meet Tommy’s and amends, “I missed you. Waking up with only a tangle of blankets trying to keep me in bed, and then getting ready on my own… I mean, it’s not unusual or unfamiliar, I did get by for many years this way. But I guess going back now, after getting into new and shared habits, is stranger than I expected.”

Felicity takes a breath to duck her head a little and push a stray curl behind her ear with her free hand, before picking up steam. “It must be something about the distance that’s getting to me—for no real reason, because it’s only been the one day and you’re back tomorrow—but I wanted to call and say…”

“I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

Only once Felicity pauses, lips frozen in a little “O” and only a single surprised blink to prove that the connection isn’t buffering, does Tommy realize he’s landed himself right back where he started. This time, though, he’s backed by Felicity’s own testimony, and that changes the game.

The lights on the pinball machine of his thoughts are going wild, that’s for sure.

“What I mean by that,” he starts, punctuating mid-sentence by awkwardly clearing his throat, “is that I miss you too. That I was actually looking forward to cold feet on my legs this morning, and hoping to hear you singing in the bathroom, and…”

Tommy trails off, disguising a small wince. Thea’s going to be smug about this for the rest of the weekend, and almost certainly for a while after they return to Starling.

“And I think that, if we’re both feeling this way, maybe we’re not overreacting so much as we’re… on to something.”

It’s difficult to determine what that “something” is, beyond the sense that it feels right. That they—Felicity and Tommy, together—feel right, and even a temporary deviation from pattern (no matter how small or odd) is a shock to the system.

It’s okay to miss her.

Felicity remains silent on the other end—the stunned expression having melted off her face and into something more thoughtful, but much less readable. Even though their conversation up to this point made their alignment apparently clear and she’s likely just turning the implications over in her mind, Tommy can’t help but subtly squirm from the suspense.

“Yeah,” Felicity finally speaks up, lips spreading in a small, soft smile as she nods in agreement. “Maybe we are.”

Despite that being the very answer Tommy was hoping to hear, he has no immediate idea how to respond.

“Oh. Uh, good,” he fumbles. “Because I’m hoping you’ll feel the same way about these pillows if I manage to find out where they’re from and get my hands on a few.”

Something in Tommy’s chest swoops as Felicity cracks out a startled yet amused laugh. “You’re really stuck on those, huh?”

Tommy meets that with a casual shrug and pats the one next to him for emphasis. “I’m a connoisseur. These meet all the necessary criteria, and then some.”

“And I’m a tough sell,” Felicity retorts, settling back in her seat and bringing her mug to her lips. “I know what I like, and I’m seeing only one pillow here that I want for sure by the end of the weekend.” To drive the point home, she bobs her head sharply to give Tommy a once-over.

“Well, now that I will gladly arrange,” Tommy agrees, and lets the grin spread unrestrained across his face.

[reeeyachi]

Thoughts: KilluGon Confession, Gon’s Emotional Control

Okay, so, this is a follow up post to my response/reaction/emotions on Tele’s post about KilluGon potentially canon explicit romantic confession. (Her detailed explanation was wonderful and beautiful and excellent, I just wanted to make a separate post on my thoughts because my brain is screaming into the void rn.)

Ok disclaimer: I’m working with the remainder of my caffeinated braincells right now so everything I say will be 100% subjective and just *thoughts* aka *mush*.

So…

I’ve also had/believed this headcanon that Gon fell first since I started watching hxh years ago because it’s too obvious, right? Tbh, I never thought of Killua being gay for Gon until recently (like 8 months ago-recently) because it’s always Gon who’s explicit about his thoughts on Killua. It’s too obvious. We could never miss it. So him confessing his love for him would make so much sense. Everything falls into place in my head.

Lea said some really good stuff about Killua’s character arc and how it sends a positive message to all the readers and everyone who identifies with him, a child who suffered from years of abuse. And him receiving love, accepting it and giving it in return would complete his growth process (I’m basically just summarizing here; please read Tele’s post they’re much more comprehensive and well-written).

A dramatic romantic confession to happen in canon would be the one to seal it – from Gon, a complete stranger he randomly met at the Hunter Exam, the first person to call him a friend, the person who went out of his way to save him from his family’s tortures, the boy who accepted him for who he is, wholly, unconditionally.

It would change everything. It would end past traumas.

Not only Killua’s, but also Gon’s.

Please allow me to lay down my 4am thoughts about what I think confessing his feelings for Killua would mean for Gon as well (with regard to his own character arc and self-worth issues).

Okay so before I go into that I want to try and explain how “confessing love” feels like / what it means to the person SAYING it. It’s nerve-racking. The tension. The pressure on your shoulders. The block in your throat. Your shaky hands. Your shaky voice. The fear of getting rejected. The fear of saying the wrong words or doing the wrong thing. The fear of jumping into the unknown. It’s a leap of faith. An ending and/or a beginning. It’s that line you cross where you can never go back. Once the words are said, BAM, it stays forever, and the very thought of that, the anxiety, the overthinking, nips at your brain.

The very thought of confessing to a person you like/love FOR THE FIRST TIME is fucking terrifying (Idk about you, but it is to me. And I feel like, for TEENAGERS, it would feel like hell’s pulling them to the earth’s core. Just. The thought of it.)

What I’m trying to say here is that, expressing genuine *romantic* feelings takes courage. And in this headcanon, with Gon being the one to SAY IT FIRST, he would probably go through all of these. But him being ABLE to say it would mean MORE THAN overcoming a fear of expressing. “But Gon doesn’t have any problems expressing his emotions.” Actually, you’re not wrong. But, for me, this isn’t exactly right.

Let’s jump first to me explaining my take on how Gon handles emotions:

For me, Gon has a hard time expressing what’s in his heart. Idk how to explain, but it’s just that, it’s so easy for him to say what’s on his mind all the time. But he has a tendency of neglecting negative emotions and hiding his true feelings; or letting himself feel it for a while but then he finds something that would make him forget about it. We’ve seen him breakdown. Emotions. Just piled up. And he exploded.

He said some bad things to Killua, he did some bad stuff. It’s all in the heat of the moment. And for me, I see it as lack of emotional control (bc he’s 12 and has abandonment issues and witnessed his father-figure severe his arm and basically dead in front of him give him a break YOU BREAKDOWN AND SAY BAD THINGS TO PEOPLE YOU LOVE AT 23Y/O DO NOT DENY IT) because he doesn’t know HOW to control it when it gets to him.

He’s afraid that he might break. And in effect, he would feel weak and helpless and useless. (Or even vice versa.)

Gon, unknowingly, protects himself from breaking by inserting the good things in his head. He protects himself from feeling useless by lending a helping hand, because he feels that he’s valuable that way; he feels that he’ll be loved and validated that way. He’d feel that he has purpose. It happens to people, which isn’t a bad thing at all, but it’s something that Gon could learn how to cope up with as he grows and matures.

(Read Tele’s wonderful meta about Gon Freecss here. I haven’t finished reading but I’m loving every bit of it so far.)

Ok back to the confession take:

Having said that, I feel that Gon would find it difficult to express what it is he’s feeling in his heart. But here we have to recognize the fact that Togashi threw him back in Whale Island, nen-less and Killua-less, doing homework and chores and good ‘ol Islander stuff. The beauty of this interval is that it would give him MORE TIME and the SPACE and PEACE he needs to get into his head and heart and just think everything through, learn how to deal with his emotions. Since he already experienced a peak of his emotional catastrophe at 12y/o, he would look back at everything and just… realize what it is that he has to.

Part of it is his feelings for you-know-who catboy. <3

And he wants to tell him. I also think that he would want something to happen after telling him. But, he doesn’t know if or how he could say it freely, unlike before when they were stargazing and he suddenly told him that he happy when he’s with Killua. At that time, it was a spur of the moment; at that time, him and Killua haven’t experienced the trauma that is CAA; at that time, it was simple. But now? How could Gon face him and tell him that he loves Killua after everything that had happened? Something would hold him back. He would hesitate. Something like…

So, again, him being able to say it (for me) would mean so much more than a simple get-together. Here’s a short list because I love lists!

Self-discovery and self-affirmation. You know how we see Gon as this sunshine boy who just wants to follow his dad’s footsteps to try and figure out what being a hunter is like / what’s great about being a hunter that Ging chose to not stay with him. At the present timeline, he already met Ging, he fulfilled his goal. What would he do now? What does he truly want? For me, him knowing that he *loves* someone dearly and *wants* to stay with that person would mean that he’s discovering which path he intends to go, for the long-term, and that sticking with that plan by expressing what he feels would simply affirm this self-discovery. It’s kind of related to that post by Tele here, of Gon following a path that’s not his dad’s footsteps. He’d have his own thing. He’d be his own person. Confessing your true feelings to your BEST FRIEND in the whole world would be a BIG STEP and Gon should know that it shouldn’t be taken lightly. It’s a very mature thing to do! When this becomes canon, idk, I’d cry because I’d be so proud of him for realizing what he feels, taking that emotion carefully and maturely, and expressing it lovingly – which brings me to my next point.

Being open to give and accept love again. Emphasize on the “again” because he went through a traumatic episode in his young life. You know that saying that you can never give what you don’t have? Well, folks, I think this is also applicable to Gon’s character now, like, after CAA, and after everything basically. We always see him giving love to OTHERS. Do we see him give love to himself? Gon endures pain and suffering because he thought it’s what he deserved. He’s willing to die in his best friend’s place so that he’d live. He’s willing to die to atone for something he didn’t even do. Gon needed to love himself. He had to learn how to take care of himself. You can never give a love you don’t have – so him dropping everything and professing his love for Killua would also mean that he DID it, finally. He’d have so much love for himself to give. He’d be ready to give all the love he stored for himself, and I think that’s really pretty.

Overcoming past trauma / getting back up on his feet. Having said all those, it all boils down to overcoming and ending past trauma – everything – because it would be a start of something new and fresh and beautiful. It would be a beginning of a new world for him, bright, spotless, unadulterated. When you fall in love, everything falls into place somehow, and all you see are beautiful things. I think this is meaningful because, while he’d seen beautiful things, Gon experienced abandonment, he experienced trauma and all the awful things we saw so far. So, with this confession happening, this new beginning, he’d look at the world with brand new eyes, he’d look at Killua, and think that it’s not so bad after all, because he’d have this overflowing love stored in his heart. It would cancel out the bad. He’d have another reason to live and stay alive. He’d have that one thing he wants more than any material thing – and that is love and happiness. Confessing is a choice. And by doing it, Gon chooses love and happiness over any material thing he wished to hunt.

I don’t know if that made sense but there! lol This might be reaching but just imagine the symbolism. It would mean so much. <3

[luque-moreau]

y'know i think its about time ive refurbished my psychonauts headcanons/theories

what??? me??? rewriting my psychonauts headcanons in a more comprehensible and informed way???

ye

alright, i think everyone knows what im talking about, by headcanons i mean headcanon as in singular, and as singular, i mean my "raz is somewhere on the spectrum of adhd".

so lets just get into it:

what is adhd actually?

adhd by definition stands for attention deficit hyperactive/hyperfocus disorder (yes, let me get into the details in just a sec). it is a nerodevelopmental disorder that is almost completely reliant on genetic factors, however conditions during pregnancy can sometimes contribute to certain aspects of how adhd manifests itself.

long story short, people with adhd have a smaller frontal lobe, and therefore less dopamine in general (even though yes, it is more complicated than that).

theres also a little bit of "chicken or the egg first" goin on here, certain behaviors or personality tendencies can also affect how adhd is presented in one individual to the next, however its still not clear if that is because it is an accommodating for a certain thought process or if someones experiences and personality shape their symptoms of adhd entirely. its a very blurry line, and the answer is different for everybody.

hyperactive type

hyperactive type is probably the closest to most stereotypical depictions of adhd, think the 5 year old whos parents brush off their child’s hyperactivity as something that will “go with age”. however, this isn’t only present in children, adults with adhd have to deal with a constant need for stimuli to make up for the lack of dopamine their current activity is providing them. this results in someone fidgeting frequently in repetitive or predictable motions, unable to hold attention to a specific task for long periods of time, or many other of the symptoms associated with adhd.(i sadly cannot provide more information in this area, i am not knowledgeable enough to...)

hyperfocus type

hyperfocus type is a tricky one, it can look like the complete opposite of adhd in theory. hyperfocus can look similar to special interests or hyperfixation, a great deal of time and knowledge dedicated to a very particular thing (although it is important to note that even though hyperfixations and special interests are incredibly similar, special interests is a term more typically used within autistic-circles, and isnt really the best word to use if you happen to be neurotypical). Think of maybe that kid who knows all the cool animal facts and won’t shut up about them. Its because certain trains of thought or activities might release more dopamine then others, so to get more of that dopamine, someone of hyperfocus type will be mentally unable to stop thinking or doing a very specific task or topic. this results in someone seemingly always spacing out, unable to change subjects or changing subjects too fast or with little to no correlation, or being completely unable to have enough motivation to do simple things.

personally i tend to fall under the category of hyperfocus myself rather than hyperactive, however the two are not mutually exclusive, its more common to find people with both types rather than just one. even myself, i might exhibit more tendencies to place me under the label of hyperfocus, but that doesn’t mean i don’t have any symptoms of the hyperactive type. its my personality that affects my mannerisms, which then makes certain aspects of my symptoms more or less apparent. Thats because im an INTP-T, i just tend to be more to myself and constantly in a state of thinking abstractly. I have trouble communicating and even sometimes recognizing my needs, and get to a point where im unable to do the simplest of things without feeling emotionally drained. Thats just my experience though, everybodys different. 

so what the fuck does this have to do with raz then?

well lets think about it, rather than have it just be me projecting myself onto a comfort character:

raz finds issue with connecting to kids his age

lets be honest. none of the campers really like raz that much. or at least some do the bare minimum to be try and be polite. it doesn’t seem like any of the other campers besides dogen, whos also socially outcasted, are really fond of raz. lili might like him, but that can definitely be interpreted as curiosity in someone new and different from the norm. It might not be that the kids despise him, but nobodys opinionated enough to care whether he is around or not.

social isolation is one of the most damning things i had to experience from an early age and still feel even today. there is a sense of feeling that you are different among your peers, whether that is a good thing or bad thing. it feels difficult to interact with other people you are not familiar with, and can really stunt you emotionally and socially. from a really early age, theres somethin in you that knows something is very different between the experiences of your peers compared to your own, and it can feel incredibly isolating.

raz and his borderline stupidity

time to get real again. raz is a fucking idiot. at least in the sense that sometimes his decisions seem incredibly spontaneous and not really thought through. he runs from home to attend a summer camp, not really thinking about the logistics of how he will get there, how the staff will react, how long its gonna take for his parent to find him, and so on. it doesn’t seem like he over or underestimates his abilities, he just goes for it without considering. that doesnt seem like the smartest thing to do, even though we know hes incredibly intelligent when it comes to larger, abstract situations. its the little details that he misses, small minuet things that seem unimportant that he overlooks, which can sometimes make things harder for him in the end.

i think its obvious that impulsivity is one symptom of adhd. however i cannot stress how difficult it is to think at supersonic speed and still feel incredibly stupid. i mean, thinking faster doesn’t inherently mean you will have better ideas, you can always be stupider faster, but being able to realize stupid mistakes or inconsistencies in your own thought process is annoying as hell. it feels like every time you try to recognize the issue, fix it, and move forward, you only end up not paying attention to another issue that gets bigger and more annoying than the first. Its always two steps forward, one step back, constantly making the same mistakes even though you try everything in your power to avoid them or grow as a person. The simplest of facts, ideas, or just things to remember end up being forgotten, and once youre reminded of them you remember them and feel like an idiot. however, arbitrary things and complex issues are much easier to digest and remember for me, things like history and the whole blame game charade of it all, biology and how every minuet thing has a greater impact on others and intertwines with every single factor of its environment, philosophy and theorizing why we think the way we do and what can be changed. but oh shit, im a dumbass i forgot to do my laundry. shit. god fuckin dammit.

empathy over sympathy

one of the basic themes of psychonauts is empathy. simple as that. raz goes around into other peoples brains, and tries to help them as much as he can, even if his efforts are not always successful in the way he intended. he never demonizes anyone to the point of unredeemability, and can empathize and understand other peoples perspectives. hes open to new ideas and

although some studies out there theorize that empathy is impaired due to adhd, from my perspective i feel like that is simply not true. if anything, i would say the sensitivity that comes with adhd (hypersensitivity) only enhances that empathy. i could definitely see social disconnection being one of the reasons it might appear that someone with adhd is less empathetic, however i would doubt that adhd would impair a persons empathy. adhd tends to also entail heightened emotions, this doesn’t necessarily mean a more outwardly emotional person, however it definitely shifts a persons perspective of their own emotions as well as others. the concept of hypersensitivity also completely contradicts the idea of people with adhd be less empathetic.

miscommunication and disconnect

sigh, the dad thing. yup. raz has that very iffy relationship with his dad at the beginning of the game which is eventually resolved. very abruptly, might i add. but thats not what this is about, thats a topic for another day. miscommunication seemed to be the root of the issue, however we only get razs side of the story. not to mention the severity of his claims and willingness to seemingly drop everything afterwards. kinda sus, ngl.

alright this ones a doosey. this, i feel, cements my theory pretty well. like i mentioned before, social disconnect and hypersensitivity are side effects of the symptoms of adhd.  this means people with adhd are highly more likely to either misinterpret someones words or actions if those in question are not completely transparent, its because they tend to overthink and interpenetrate responses with too much thinkin n such. the social disconnect makes a whole lot of it worse, it can just pile on top of already established feelings of inadequacy and isolation. and oversharing as a poor coping mechanism isnt an exclusively adhd related thing, it tends to be shared within similar neruodevelopmental disorders such as autism or even ptsd. i find it incredibly easy to disconnect myself from my own emotions at times and think critically at what i feel and how it affects me. which is a bad thing. if i dont acknowledge my emotions like they are my own for too long, everything falls apart. its not fun. but, that disconnect can make talking about certain more traumatic experiences or instances that had deep personal effects on my life and development as a person much easier to just share. and not always in an appropriate manner, comedic opportunity can be   v  e  r  y   enticing. this also explains why raz might have been able to drop everything about his dad after he apologized. he didn’t really, he probably still suffers just as much afterwards as he did before. but he probably wont realize that for awhile, since logically, the issue has been resolved. long story short, he has not had the time to cope, and to put that off he detaches himself from those feelings. w a c k

of course i have other reasons why i feel like raz could potentially have adhd, or at least be accurately represented in headcanon with adhd, some minor mentions being:

he uses his camp map as a journal to track his in-game progress, list of goals, and notes/snip-its of information. writing down information on some form of notepad or book is a common tool used by kids and even adults with adhd to help them keep track of minuet, individual tasks. its just using a planner, but with a bit more information. 

just from my personal perspective, the lengths raz goes to pursue his dream of being a psychonaut feel more like a special interest/hyper fixation sort of thing. he can jump between having genuine conversations with his fellow campers and just exploring the campground, to investing himself entirely in obtaining his goal, even when it seems almost impossible. thats some serious dedication to one very specific thing, y’know?

this one isnt as solid as the other but: m̶̖̰̯̫̍͝o̵̦͖̟͈̹̤̥̝͐̿̄̀̀̎̓ņ̶̛̭̠̐̊̆̍͝ķ̸̝͈̺̙̰̊e̶͉͚̼̅̔͗̂͐̍̕͝͝y̶̦̖̼͖̪͎̝̖̠̐̑͋̾̔̑́͐͘ ̵̢̲̘͎͉̔̀͒̄͌͊̀͌̀m̴̲̫̮̪̖̍̐͆̕͜͝ͅả̶͙͚͗n̶̗̳̩̙̘̼̦̦͇͝ ̷̡̨̡͔̗͕̘͍̥̑͒̎̐̃g̴͔̔̈̅̐̏́̌̔̈́́o̶̥̱̽̆̂͌̀͗ ̶̝̩͙͕͛́s̴̛͓̥̲̜͓͚̣̠̆̓̌͌p̶̜̹̯̦̫̯̣̎͐̽̉̾ḙ̴͇̬͑̈́̐̈́͘͠ͅȅ̶̡̗̞̩͔̫̪͈͑̓͗d̵̠͇͎̜͔͇͒̈́́̀̅̈́̒͘y̸̡̦̠̻̖̥̿ͅ. yeah, its the most generalizing reason but look, hes moving nonstop the entire game, climbing and running around the entire goddamn place wrecking havoc. a bit of imp can be found in most people with adhd if you look hard enough.

so thanks for reading this far i guess? im oversharing even right now with this, like an i d i o t but yknow what i dont want to read the great gatsby rn, so ive got nothin better to do. who knows, maybe the second game will give us more info to either support/discredit this theory? gotta wait for pn2 i guess

:^)

[bugmomwrites]

Sugawara and a neurodivergent s/o

In case you didn’t know I got into Haikyuu!! And now I take requests for them. None of these are in any particular order. This was totally self indulgent, and doesn’t mention any one particular condition. Based off of personal experience so I’m sorry if it’s not entirely accurate to you!

99.9% fluff aside from very brief mentions here and there of panic attacks and feelings of inadequacy. Lots of projection here.

If you take medicine this boi is always keeping track and reminding you to take the next dose.

If you’ve run out and can’t get more for a bit he makes it a point to be more patient with you (not that he isn’t every day, he’s just extra careful on those days).

If he senses you becoming overstimulated he’ll give your hand a reassuring squeeze and offer to take a walk with you to clear your head.

He tries to humor you whenever you ask a bunch of weird questions. He might not have ALL the answers, but he isn’t one to shoot down your harmless curiosity either.

“Time travel already exists because of daylight savings time. I could commit a murder in the first window between 1am to 1:59 and as long as the deed is done quickly enough, it’ll be 1am a second time and I could make the perfect alibi.”

“That’s uh, that’s neat baby. I think it’s time for bed now.”

“AND ANOTHER THING-“

He doesn’t squelch your excitement, but if he senses you getting too crazy, he can calm you down gently.

On those bad days where you think something is wrong with you, he holds you and tells you all the things he loves about you, promising you that it’s okay to be a little different.

If you stim or fidget a lot, he might look into getting one of those fidget cubes or something to keep on him (for emergencies).

When he spends time with you he tries to join you in your hobbies at LEAST once a week because it’s so cute how you get excited about something you’re passionate about and if he can learn a new skill? There’s a bonus right there.

He offers to help you study and helps you come up with an organized system for notes and whatnot. He’s just- so sweet and so patient I-

Are your hyperfixations are some niche subjects? He’ll you to the museum and watch you get excited and ask questions and it’s the cutest thing ever.

Suga has a very calming presence and hella emotional intelligence, so when a panic/anxiety attack is coming on he senses it fairly early. He’s able to bring you back to earth and make you feel better.

He knows you might not be able to express yourself with traditional affection at times. That’s okay! He understands where you’re coming from and if anyone says you’re “emotionally constipated” Sugamama is ready to throw down.

You overhear one of the players asking him why you don’t seem as affectionate as him and they wonder out loud “aren’t you hurt when they do that?”. You swallow the lump in your throat as you wait for his response.

You know they probably didn’t mean to come across as rude- they just want the best for their friend and vice captain after all- you’re about to beat yourself up when he steps in and defends you.

He explains that sometimes, people’s brains are wired a little differently. That you were trying your best, and how far you’ve come. That you were just as worthy of love as anyone else, and once they all get to know you they’ll see you for you.

You’re still behind the wall, trying not to cry. They say “if Suga says they’re a good person, I trust his judgement.” Relief washes over you, and the weight on your shoulders lightens up a bit that day.

You warm up to the team a bit more, relieved that you don’t have to overthink your every move to appear “normal” in front of them. They’ve learned to not overwhelm you or bombard you with questions or the obligatory “I’ll hurt you if you break his heart”.

You come around, and learn that they’re all wonderful people! They’ve learned to love you as one of their own, and get excited when Suga says he’ll be bringing you with him that day. Suga is glad they all love you. You’re glad that you can be yourself around them. Everyone is happy.

Over time he learns to read you more and more, and it’s almost like you guys have formed some sort of nuanced language between the two of you. Want cuddles? He’s on it. Need some space? He’ll be right here when you’re ready.

Suga is your biggest cheerleader for life’s difficulties, and he’s willing to celebrate even the smallest little victories. You finally made that call to the new job you applied to after being anxious about talking on the phone? He’s right there beside you, smiling and maybe even mouthing words to you to help you along.

Your idiosyncrasies are some of his favorite things about you. Even the simplest little habits he finds quirky and charming.

As the relationship goes on you warm up to him more, and become better with emotions. The first time you say “I love you”, homeboy is almost crying. He loves you too!!!!!

Overall Suga would be such a sweet and patient boyfriend and support you wholeheartedly. We all need a Sugawara in our lives tbh.

[wyrdify]

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. It’s been plastered all over every social media website I’ve been on, and I’ve had friends on other sites talking about it. I’ve also seen it on here, and I decided I’m going to continue my trend of being open about my own mental health. In doing so, I have a few goals: to help lessen the stigma surrounding mental illnesses, to let others know it’s okay to talk about what they live with, and to just get my brain to move onto another topic.

So, let’s get down to it.

My brain works great when I present stuff in list or outline format, so that’s what I’m going to do to start with.

These are the mental illnesses I live with every single day:

Dermatillomania

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Major Depression Disorder

OCD

Trichotillomania

A couple of these may seem unfamiliar to folks, and there are definitely preconceived notions about all of them, so I’ll share a little bit about what they look like for me in another section.

My family/personal history that contributes to my mental health:

Alcoholism (namely family members, but I bordered on becoming an alcoholic before I was 21)

Emotional abuse / gaslighting

Involvement in a cult

Loss of family members

Neglect (namely medical)

Other shit I’m not quite comfortable talking about in a public setting

What these mental illnesses look like for me:

Dermatillomania: It means I like picking at my skin, particularly recently acquired cuts or wounds. For me, my brain likes to make myself bleed, and it perceives that feeling, that pain, as good.

Generalized Anxiety Disorder: I worry about things and blow them out of proportion. Worst case scenarios are easy for me to imagine, and I overthink just about everything. Big surprises, the unknown, and anything outside of my control can make me panic.

Major Depressive Disorder: I’m tired a lot, and I often have trouble focusing or concentrating for long periods of time. Small things like putting something away takes extra effort, and I’ll often lose interest in things I normally enjoy. Since I was at least thirteen years old, I’ve also experienced thoughts of self-harm and suicide.

OCD: This links back to my anxiety, and it’s connected to the derma/trich stuff. I don’t do well when I don’t know something, or there’s any sort of uncertainty. I need things to be done in a certain way, and often in a certain order, or my brain will figuratively set itself on fire. I also need things organized in a specific way, or I get the same result. That’s the obsessive part. The compulsive part comes from following a somewhat strict routine along with counting in specific patterns, arranging my stuff in specific ways, and stuff like that.

Trichotillomania: Similar to the dermatillomania, but with hair. Often without thinking, I’ll pull my hair out. Sometimes, I do it purposefully because my brain thinks it helps with anxiety. This has also led to me having general issues when it comes to my hair in general.

What that family/personal history looked like for me:

Alcoholism: A lot of people in my family, including both parents, are alcoholics. They consume a lot of alcohol. I was pressured to start drinking alcohol when I was around 13-14 years old. When I was in my late teens, I would drink just to make myself feel better. Due to my intense fear of throwing up, though, I never let myself progress past tipsy. I don’t drink any alcohol now due to my medications and the knowledge that I could easily fall into alcoholism.

Emotional abuse: This is wide-ranging and extensive, honestly, and gaslighting was a huge part of it. What I’m going to do instead is link some things that explain what I lived with for most of my life. With this article from PsychCentral, I can check off every single thing on that list. This link from womenshealth.gov also covers what I dealt with.

Involvement in a cult: Insert nervous laughter. Starting around the end of middle school to the start of high school, my parents started getting involved in a cult that centers itself on therapy and self-help with some spiritual elements. Therapy through them was the only way to get help, or it wasn’t valid. My family is still involved in this cult, and I managed to get myself out of it when I moved back in 2013.

Loss of family members: In 2005, I suddenly lost my godfather, my dad’s brother. I saw him as more of a father than my biological dad, especially considering he curbed or otherwise acted as a buffer for my dad’s abusive behavior. In 2011, I lost my paternal grandmother, someone I was incredibly close to and trusted more than my parents. She also helped curb my parents’ abusive behavior, and her house was a safe place for me to go.

Neglect: I’ve said this before when talking about my epilepsy, but I was not allowed to go to doctors. Any medical issues, which included mental illnesses, I had were my fault, too expensive, inconvenient, or all in my head. It is also my belief that my mother pressured my pediatrician to tell me that my seizures were not neurological when I was sixteen years old. To this day, my parents are still very anti-doctor and borderline anti-vax.

Whoo, that was a lot of stuff, and I’m not even done---because of course not. Now, as the last part (I think), I’m going to list some things I do and personality quirks as a result of all this shit.

Confrontation/angry voices scares the ever-loving shit out of me. I shut down. I dissociate. I freeze, or I otherwise try to escape. Sometimes, this will come across as me trying to find ways to change the subject, not saying anything at all, or just agreeing with things because it’s easier.

I cry when people tell me they love me, and I often have to stop myself from saying things like “Thank you”, “Why?”, or asking for further explanation.

I doubt my memory and emotions a lot. To combat this, I keep logs, paper trails, and notes of just about everything. If I remember something that someone else doesn’t, or I have a different emotional response than someone else, I tend to assume the other person is right.

I feel guilty for everything. Somehow, everything becomes my fault, my responsibility, and I have to fix everything. This leads to apologies being my go-to responses for a lot.

I have trouble advocating for myself or saying that I need something. Needing things = bad in my brain.

I info-dump. My brain tells me people should have all of the information possible, so I do it. This includes telling people when I’m going to bed for the night or when I’m going somewhere.

I only feel safe crying when there’s no one else around.

I overthink every single thing I say and type.

I put everything in alphabetical order if possible.

I use writing to cope with feelings and other issues I’m dealing with.

I will listen to sad or otherwise emotional songs over and over again to help me get feelings out.

I will often perceive my issues as “not as bad as what other people deal with” and not talk about them. I’ll downplay what I deal with and shove it under a rug while trying to help others because, otherwise, I’ll feel selfish, self-centered, and attention-seeking.

If I can’t have my bowl of cereal for breakfast in the morning, it has the power to ruin my entire day, and I feel rather silly about it.

Lots of all or nothing and black and white thinking. Perfectionism also plays into this. If I can’t do something right the first time, or if things aren’t done perfectly, my brain will not let it go.

Physical contact without my explicit and verbal consent makes me cringe and feel incredibly uncomfortable. It can get to the point that even the thought of it happening triggers nausea. 

These are explanations for things I do and why I act in certain ways. They are not excuses, and they are things I’m working on to the best of my ability. I’m currently on a wait list to get a new psychologist so I can start going to therapy again since I know I need it. When I had it in the past, it was incredibly helpful and empowering to me. Since about February, my depression started to get worse, especially as I felt like things were falling apart around me. It rises and it falls. Nowadays, it’s just a little worse in the sense that I find shutting down easier, and I struggle to do anything that isn’t a video game.

Mental health is just as important as physical health, and it needs to be acknowledged as such. If sharing what I deal with helps even one person, then I consider it worth it.

That is all. I hope everyone is doing okay. If you’re not, though, that’s okay. It’s okay to not have good days or otherwise not feel physically or mentally okay. One day, that lesson will stick with me on a more permanent basis.

Love,

Kai

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Postmortem- Chapter 13

Kokichi overthinks his feelings for Shuichi and has a conversation with Rantaro.

ao3

This was bad.

No, it was more than bad, it was terrible, absolutely horrendous.

Kokichi Ouma had feelings for someone.

In the past, it was quite easy for him to relegate these feelings to the back of his brain and pretend they did not exist. In the rare moment that they did rise to the surface of his consciousness he would face them with blunt denial, acting like this silly “crush” of his was nothing but careless infatuation that would die down soon enough.

But now his feelings were staring him in the eye, baring their ugly fangs which threatened to sink into his flesh, rendering him a slave to his emotions.

If his trust issues during the killing game were anything to go by, it was evident that Ouma did not like being out of control of things. He would plan his actions very carefully in order to elicit very specific reactions from the other members of the group, who would play into his hand like puppets. Every action he took was carefully constructed and overthought, so there was no room for uncertainty.

But Ouma’s feelings right now were the epitome of uncertainty.

Love, if he even dared to call it that, was a fickle thing, whimsically swaying its victims to and fro, doing as it so desires. Ouma could take whatever actions he wanted, but he would be pathetically unable to escape the clutches of this “monster” that people called love. He was at its mercy, submitting to his heart’s desires.

Isolating himself did no good- it just made him think of Saihara even more, his absence burning a hole in his heart. But spending too much time with him was dangerous, the warm feeling in his chest blooming, growing until it was unbearable. Any sort of fine medium he tried to find between these two extremes did little to quell his emotions, rather, it made them flourish.

The fact that Ouma had feelings for Saihara was nothing new; Despite how much he denied it in the past, he at least acknowledged the tiniest sliver of a possibility that he had feelings for the other boy. But as time passed and he grew closer to Saihara, his feelings grew stronger as well. They began to dominate his mind, permeating his every thought:

When he went to the dining hall, he hoped that Saihara would be there, kindly waving him over to come sit with him.

When he bickered with Momota, he would purposefully try to gain Saihara’s attention.

And when he went to sleep at night, he wondered if Saihara was thinking of him too.

During the killing game, it has never been this bad. Maybe that was because the crushing weight of trying to end the killing game by himself was resting on his shoulders, taking over his every thought and leaving no room for such idle distractions. Maybe not. Who knows.

But now that the imminent threat of death was no longer looming over his head, he was supposed to be able to think more clearly now. Instead, stupid Saihara just had to occupy his thoughts and be so nice to him even after everything he did during the killing game.

Saihara’s sweet smile that he had reserved only for those close to him, the way he fiddled with his fingers when he was nervous, and the way that Ouma felt his knees go weak every time Saihara looked at him with those unnecessarily long eyelashes- it all made him sick.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Nothing except resign himself to his fate of suffering from an unrequited love, because there was absolutely no way that Saihara returned his feelings. Not when there were so many better alternatives available to him.

First of all, there was Akamatsu, the goody-two-shoes bundle of sunshine that tried to unite everyone together against the mastermind- a foolish move, really. She was the first to be by Saihara’s side during the killing game, and left a lasting impression on him after she died. Everything suddenly became “Akamatsu this” and “Akamatsu that” as Saihara struggled to find himself now that he was left alone.

She had been the perfect sacrifice for Saihara’s character development, her own character being reduced to a martyr that tried to end the killing game but failed miserably so early on. He had idolized her, to an unhealthy extent, almost, and did everything he could to make her proud. Of course she would be his first choice over anyone else and, given the opportunity, he would probably abandon Ouma in order to be by her side.

There was also Momota, who had been Saihara’s companion for the remaining duration of the killing game. Momota had essentially replaced Akamatsu, as the two were nearly one in the same: Both were overly optimistic, natural-born leaders with a sense of confidence that they could only hope would rub off on Saihara. Also, they both hogged most of his attention, leaving so little for Ouma to have to himself.

Momota had been, and still was, Saihara’s best friend, and Ouma couldn’t help but insult him out of jealousy, wishing that it had been him instead. But he was a good-for-nothing liar, so it was no wonder why Saihara had chosen Momota over him.

In short, there was essentially no way that Saihara would return Ouma’s feelings, not when he had so many better options available. The thought made Ouma’s heart sting, but as long as Saihara was happy he couldn’t really complain.

The more pressing issue was how Ouma would suppress these feelings and prevent them from growing. At this rate, he would end up head over heels in love with Saihara, and he absolutely could not let that happen. And if it did happen, he would have to keep it secret.

Eventually, Ouma would be rooming with Saihara, being in his immediate vicinity nearly 24/7. It was too late to back out now, so avoiding the other boy was clearly not an option. He would have to regain the self-control he had lost during the past few weeks, not allowing himself to grow too close to Saihara. It would be hard, but for both of their sakes he would have to do it.

He had to.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ouma groggily woke up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Blinking the remains of sleep out of his eyes, he immediately recognized that he was not in his room. Suddenly more alert, he quickly scanned his surroundings, registering to himself that he was in the recreation room.

“Oh, you’re finally up.” Ouma's eyes darted around before landing on the figure to his right, who he recognized as Amami.

“Huh?” he did a double take before sitting up, instinctively backing away into his corner of the couch.

“Relax, I haven’t been here too long. Just watching some TV to try and get my mind off of things is all.” Amami replied, noticing Ouma’s confusion. “You were here when I got here so I just let you sleep.”

Ouma looked down, noticing that he was covered with a green fuzzy blanket. He assumed Amami draped it over him, because he didn’t remember falling asleep with a blanket, whenever that was.

“What time is it?” Ouma asked, still a bit dazed.

“It’s 9:00 in the morning.” Amami glanced at the clock under the TV, then back at Ouma. “Did you sleep here all night?”

“I think so, I…” Ouma’s brows furrowed as he slowly recollected the events of the night prior.

Him and Saihara had been hanging out in the recreation room late at night, as both of them tended to be night owls. After Saihara had excused himself to go to bed, Ouma sat down on the couch to watch TV, not really feeling that tired yet. But apparently he was more tired than he thought, because he passed out on the couch.

“I was here with Saihara last night, and went to watch some TV after he went to bed, so…” Ouma looked up, noticing that Amami was looking at him with a slight smirk. Ouma frowned. “...What?”

“You and Saihara-kun have been spending quite a lot of time together lately, haven’t you?” Amami asked a bit smugly.

Ouma flushed, feeling his face begin to heat up even at the mere mention of Saihara’s name. He knew where this conversation was going and he wanted nothing to do with it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ouma huffed, throwing the blanket off of himself dramatically and going to stand up, only to be stopped by Amami.

“No need to get all defensive… It was an innocent question, right? Not like you two are dating or anything… Unless?” Amami teased ever so lightly.

Ouma reluctantly sat back down, sighing and crossing his arms indignantly.

“No! We’re not dating!” he pouted.

“Oh, okay then.” Amami mindlessly tapped his chin with his finger, “You two do spend a lot of time together though.”

Amami paused, studying Ouma’s reaction at his next words.

“You totally have a crush on him though.” he said calmly, while Ouma was anything but.

He whipped his head around to make sure that no one could possibly be listening before responding.

“I do not!” Ouma protested.

It wasn’t like him to get so flustered, but he knew that his trademark lies tended to work less well on Amami. All he could think of in defense was blunt denial, hoping that the other boy would drop the subject.

“Calm down, okay?” Amami put his hands up in defeat, trying to calm the other boy down. “I won’t tell anyone. Pinke promise.” He extended his pinkie finger towards Ouma, who looked the other way.

“Fine! But I’m not making a stupid pinkie promise with you. I’m not five!” Ouma stuck his nose up, turning his head.

“Okay, have it your way.” Amami stood up, making a show of looking around the recreation room. “Saihara-kun should be in his room right now, so if I just…”

Ouma’s eyes widened, and before he knew it he was frantically jumping in front of Amami in order to stop him from telling Saihara.

“Wait, fine! I’ll do it!” Ouma reluctantly held out his pinkie finger, to which Amami smiled triumphantly and interlocked his finger with Ouma’s.

“There. Your secret is safe with me!” Amami released his finger, allowing his arms to drop back to his sides.

“Sooooo…” Now it was Ouma’s turn to smirk, his typical persona now back in full force. “Does my beloved Amami-chan have a crush on anyone? Nishishi…”

Amami flushed just the tiniest bit, before the door to the recreation room opened. He turned to see who entered the room, then turned back to Ouma, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Good morning!” Akamatsu beamed, making her presence known in the room.

“Ah, Ouma-kun.” Amami gestured towards Akamatsu, lopping his arm around her waist. “This is my girlfriend, Kaede.”

Akamatsu blushed upon hearing her first name come from Amami’s mouth, as she seemingly never got used to hearing it.

“Still haven’t gotten used to that, eh?” Amami teased, causing Akamatsu’s blush to deepen.

Ouma tuned out the rest of their conversation, processing the information he had just received.

Amami and Akamatsu were together?

That would explain a lot. Ouma had always noticed the two of them spending time together, but he just figured it was because they were the first two out of the simulation and had grown closer to each other. He never knew that they were dating.

But even if Akamatsu was with Amami, that didn’t change the fact that Ouma simply wasn’t appealing enough to Saihara. Not to mention Momota still being in the way.

Of course, a tiny part of his brain was hoping that he was wrong and that Saihara was interested in him, but he did his best to silence this part of himself in order to avoid becoming too optimistic. Can’t let yourself get your hopes up only for them to be dashed, he supposed.

He took one glance at the happy couple, disgusted at how in love they seemed. Once the couple seemed adequately occupied with one another, Ouma slipped out of the recreation room, returning to his own room, where he would spend the rest of the day sulking about how his feelings were unrequited.

At least, the feelings that he thought were unrequited.

[moonlightsolo]

bête noire

summary: Kylo Ren’s emotions take a toll on your own, even when he is on the other side of the Star Destroyer. You’ve never felt anger like this before. Kylo asks you to travel with him to ambush the Resistance. Someone makes an unwanted visit. 

pairing: kylo ren x female reader

wc: 3k

warnings: violence, negative thoughts, implied sexual acts, also rly cute fluff

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Fury is radiating through your body but it’s not your own. It’s boiling close to the brim, ready to explode like a ticking time bomb. 

Kylo is away on the ship somewhere doing Supreme Leader things. Something must have happened to make him this angry for it to affect you. 

It’s making your chest constrict with anxiety, the apples of your cheeks are temporarily tinted pink for the time being. 

Meditation isn’t working, breathing techniques, napping. Nothing. 

You’re irritable. Your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of screaming into a pillow or ripping apart your quarters with your saber. 

You’ve finally put the twins down for a nap and now you’re laying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Hot tears roll down your cheeks onto the fabric of it. 

Your brain is replaying memories of your childhood, you almost miss your village on Jakku; It was much simpler back then. It’s been so long since you ran away. You know that your parents are dead now, murdered by Kylo Ren. 

Maybe you should have done it yourself so you wouldn’t feel so guilty, it could’ve given you more power as an apprentice. 

No, you don’t need more power. Just stay as a regular mom, that’s all you need to do. 

You grit your teeth and close your eyes. Everything is burning with anger. You just want to punch something. Your hands grip your saber laying on your abdomen, wanting to use it against anything.

Kylo storms into the room, grunting as he paces the room. He growls under his breath, his shoulders heaving as he breathes. 

“The fucking Resistance.” His arms tense up as he huffs, “They moved. They’re gone. They could be anywhere in this damn galaxy.” 

Little does he know, they have cloaking devices covering the perimeter of the base, even from the air. The First Order wouldn’t be able to find them on any radar they have. Especially because your path made it seem like you came straight from the base but it was much more elaborate than that. You’re not going to tell him that either. 

Kylo’s hand rests on the hilt of his saber, knowing that he wants to destroy something to blow off steam. He doesn’t want to scare you. 

You slowly sit up to look at him, just staring with no expression on your face. His cheeks blow as he puffs out air, his fiery eyes glance at you, then he looks back again. His eyebrows crinkle together in the middle, he almost looks puzzled. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks, clenching his jaw when you don’t answer him right away. He looks over your blank eyes and the almost dried up tear tracks marking your flushed cheeks.

“Your anger, it’s- I can feel it. I can feel it in myself.” You shake your head, you look down at the smooth metal of the hilt sitting in your hands. 

Kylo’s lips part gently and his jaw twitches. “I feel like I could hurt something right now. I’ve never really felt this way either.” You admit, then look up at him through your eyelashes. 

Kylo gulps and goes to talk but you continue, “The things I’ve been thinking about. My parents and my village. I want to go back there, Kylo. To see what’s left, maybe there’s something I forgot. The last missing puzzle piece that I need to settle down.” Your face crinkles up as memories play in your head and you shake them off. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin, a chill that travels down your spine. This wasn’t something regular, like the air conditioning. It was something otherworldly. 

Kylo seems visibly shaken by this too, his eyes are mixed with a bunch of emotions but the rest of his body is like a statue. 

“I want you to come with me, please.” You almost beg him to answer you. 

Emotions wrack your body then your bottom lip starts to quiver. Kylo notices the sudden change of your emotions and takes a step forward but you put your hand up to stop him. 

“I don’t need affection right now. I just need an answer from you. Yes or no. Simple.” You nod then take a deep shaky breath. You notice his hand is still resting on the hilt attached to his belt.

Negative thoughts swirl in your mind. Maybe he’s thinking you’re going to strike him. Does he think you’re dangerous? Is he going to put an end to you because of this sudden darkness inside of you?

You take a deep breath to stop yourself since there’s no need to overthink about those things. He would never hurt you. The anger suddenly washes away like sand being taken with the tide. It was like a cloud was over your brain. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t want to be like this.” You sniffle, hiding your face in your hands.

You can hear his footsteps getting louder as he walks towards you. His hand rests on your back to console you, “I was trying to see if you could calm yourself. I’m glad you did.” His body sits next to you which makes the sofa dip in. He pulls you into him, his rough armor bothers you but you still cuddle with him. 

“As long as you can take control of your emotions, you’ll be okay. I, on the other hand, can’t do that.” He chuckles which makes you smile. At least he’s trying to bring light to the subject. 

“I really do want to go back to Jakku.” You huff sadly, the corners of your lips turn down into a frown. 

Kylo’s hand gently rubs your side, “I know. I’ll make it happen.” His raspy voice speaks and rumbles in your ear. 

Before you could answer, he starts talking again. “I have to go away. Not for long, but I will be far.” You pick your head up to look at him which makes him slightly nervous, “Only two days maximum.” 

Your whole face turns into a pout and you just throw yourself top of him to bury your face in his neck. You let out a long over-exaggerated groan, “Whyyyyy...” You wail. 

He grips your sides, “There’s a spy in the First Order. I need to find them. I’ve been tracking a trail for a while and they’re supposed to be meeting somebody from the Resistance...” He trails off, his eyes zone out off to the side. He’s thinking quite hard. 

“Why don’t you come with me?” He mumbles in your ear. He waits for a reaction, your eyes widen in shock as you sit up to look at him. 

“With you? Like on the mission?” You stutter over your words and plant your hands on his chest. His eyes dart over your face as he gulps, “Yes. With me.” The grip on your waist tightens. 

You bite your lip, “What about the kids?” You ask and look back at their room. 

“I can get a droid to watch them. I’ll lock down my quarters until we get back. Nobody will be able to go in or out.” 

A small smile breaks out on your face then fades away. This would be your first time truly away from your children. They’ve been babysat by a droid before, but you’ve never left them this far. 

“What’s wrong?” He fidgets underneath your body weight to sit up more, “You’re sure they’ll be okay? I feel bad leaving them.” 

Kylo huffs quietly and nods, “I understand. You can just stay here then.” He leans forward to pepper kisses against your jawline. You pull back from his advances for a moment to look at him, “I want to go. I trust you. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to our children.” You lean forward to capture his lips with your own.

You giggle into the kiss as his hands grip your ass so he can switch your position from being on top to being under him. Your back presses into the cushion of the couch from his body laying on top of yours, his hands travel underneath your baggy shirt to cup your breasts. 

Today’s going to be fun. 

-

You yawn as you roll over, your arm falls off the edge of the couch. You slowly open your eyes to see that the lights are dimmed and a blanket is draped over your nude body. 

You smile just from knowing that Kylo did that. What a gentleman. You snuggle under the warmth then see the note left on the coffee table. Your hand slips out quickly to snatch it, his handwriting is scribbled messily on the ripped piece of paper. 

Nothing important, he just has Supreme Leader duties to take care of. You let a soft sigh, then peek over at the monitor on the datapad he also left by. The kids are still asleep. They’ll be hyper today. 

You realize that you have to be an adult so you slowly stretch your limbs. When you stand up, you wrap the blanket around your body then you start to pick up your scattered clothes as you make your way into the bedroom.  

The room smells like soap, he must’ve taken a shower. It makes you smile again. You couldn’t be happier to be around him again. 

You drop the blanket on the bed so you could scurry into the bathroom to shower as well. 

You haven’t gotten any of your own clothing yet, just the ones that you wore the night you joined him. 

Instead of getting into your own constricting clothes, you opt for one of Kylo’s tee shirts instead. You pull it over your head, then pull your underwear up your legs and some socks on your feet. 

You wrap your wet hair up in a towel so it could dry faster. Then you walk back into the living area, the smile on your face instantly drops. You stop in your tracks when you see someone standing with their back towards you. You instantly recognize their slicked-back ginger hair. 

You gently sneak your hand back into the bedroom to grab your saber off the stand right near the door. When you ignite it, the man jumps and turns around with his hands up in surrender.

“Hux?!” You exclaim angrily. His eyes are wide with fear when he realizes what’s in your hand, “Don’t kill me. I was just...” You take a step forward, your foot stomps on the ground. The sound of one of the babies crying echoes from the monitor on the coffee table, your eyes glance at the screen then back to him. 

He definitely heard and saw that too. He knows that they’re on board. “Children?” He questions.

Mama bear mode is now activated. 

You take large steps towards him until his back is against the wall, “I swear to the stars, if you tell anybody about this I will personally rip you to shreds.” You growl and hold the saber close to his face. 

He audibly gulps and eyeballs the blade that’s about to cut into his neck. “I won’t. I won’t.” He squeaks out. You give him a look and he shakes his head, “I promise.” 

You take a step back and disable your saber so the light disappears back into the hilt. “But children? When did this happen?” He questions you. 

“Hoth.” You grumble out, eyebrows still knitted together in the middle. You’re ready to strike at any moment. 

“Oh... So that’s where that baby hat came from...” He whispers to himself which makes you a bit confused. 

“Why would you bring them back here? Out of all the places to go in the galaxy, you brought them to the First Order?” He frowns. 

You roll your eyes, “So they can be with their father.” Then his eyebrows go up in surprise. 

“That explains a lot...” He rubs his forehead with his gloved hand then stands up straight again. “I know that I haven’t been the most trusting person around here, but I give you my word that I will not let anything happen to your children. I’ll keep my mouth shut about it.” He nods. 

His little speech makes you smile, “I appreciate that.” You let out a relieved sigh. His eyes then notice the state you’re in, looking down at your naked legs then back up to your face. 

You grimace and growl under your breath, “So what were you doing here anyway?” You question him now. 

Hux seems to get nervous by how his hands fidget, “I-I was just looking for Ren. I needed to find something for him.” His eyes fall to the side to avoid eye contact. 

“I can tell when you’re lying. You can either tell me the truth or I can go through your mind myself.” You threaten him, knowing you don’t have that ability but it’s quite fun to torture Hux. 

The man almost whimpers in fear, “You can do that... too?” He shudders then you take a step forward which makes him flinch.

“Okay, okay. I was searching for something. Something that he might have of his grandfathers.” He squeezes his eyes shut then peeks one open. 

“Fine. I believe you. Thanks for keeping this secret, by the way.” You drop your dark persona and he seems confused by your sudden personality change. 

“You’re welcome?” He lets out that statement more like a question. He stands up straight again to seem more professional, he fixes his hair with his hands before putting them behind his back. 

“You should get going now before he finds out that you’re here.” He gives you a curt nod before slipping past you and out the door. 

You truly believe Hux was being honest that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt your children. If he did though, that would be the end of him. He would have Ren and you coming after him. He should know better not to open his mouth. 

Once Hux leaves you go to the door to lock it once more, then you take a deep breath and exhale. “That was weird.” You mutter to yourself then go into the twins’ room to take care of them. 

When Kylo comes back, he has to use the Force to get into the quarters. He frantically looks for you while calling out your name. He finally finds you passed out in the rocking chair with Ellie babbling in your arms. He runs up to you, his hands grab your face which makes you wake up instantly. Your eyes shoot open and you suck in a sharp breath. 

“Thank god you’re okay, but what the fuck?” He snaps at you, “Why was the door locked? I couldn’t get inside.” He stands back up, his stature towers over you once again. 

You yawn and look down at El gripping your shirt, “I’m sorry. Hux came here and I just got freaked out I’m-.” He cuts you off. 

“Hux... He was here?” He would be breathing fire right about now if he was able to, you visualize the steam coming out of his ears. 

“Yes, but it’s fine. He said he won’t let anything happen to the children. I took care of it.” You nod. 

“He knows about them too?” His voice booms even louder which makes you and El jump.

“Yes, Kylo. He does. I think he’s smart enough not to say anything to anybody about it. He knows that we’ll both come after him.” After that sentence, he seems to calm down a little bit. He takes a deep breath and walks over to Ani’s crib to look at his son. 

The boy giggles and reaches up for him which Kylo happily obliges. He scoops up his small body, bouncing the child on his hip. “Maybe you should stay here once I leave.” He mumbles quietly. 

You feel yourself growing frustrated, “No. I want to come with you. I’m ready, I know I am. I can protect myself.” You say as calm as you can since you didn’t want the kids to feed off your little argument with him. 

You rock Ellie and coo happily at her before turning your attention to Kylo. He’s just staring at you with his rock hard expression. “Fine. We’ll leave in a few days.” He pushes back Ani’s wavy hair from his face.

The baby reaches up to tug on Kylo’s collar to his uniform which makes you laugh. Kylo looks back to you and gives you a smirk. “You sure you don’t want one more?” He jokes around which shocks you. 

“You’d want more kids?” You ask, pouting happily then you stand up. Kylo looks over you, his eyes follow your movements. “I do in the future, not yet, because of circumstances.” He replies, you stand on your tippy-toes to kiss him.

His dimples show when he smiles into the kiss, “I want to have a family with you, a big one. I would need- Ow!” You yelp when Ani grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs quite harshly. 

Kylo lets out a laugh you haven’t heard before, his hands go up to his son's tiny fingers to untangle them from your hair. 

He catches your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. “What’s that look for?” He mumbles under his breath, letting Ani’s hand grip his finger instead of attempting to pull off your scalp. 

“I just love you so much.” You mumble and bat your eyelashes. Kylo grins at your cute pouty face and swoops down to capture your lips once again. 

At this moment, there was a newly found peace in Kylo Ren. All he needs is his family and he would be happy for the rest of his life. 

-

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