#and then i lost all motivation to do anything

[causenessus]

comforting you. | bungou stray dogs

inc. chuuya, dazai, ranpo, odasaku

written is second pov (no gendered pronouns used)

"you deserve this." by men i trust

word count: 4.6k words

notes/warnings: separate scenarios for each bsd man and how they comfort you when you’re feeling down, giving you both love and realistic advice. i feel like i bounced between writing generalized headcanons and hyperspecific scenarios, so i’m sorry but i hope you enjoy this <3 each of you is deserving of so much love and patience <3 you deserve to be here <3 each pairing is in an established relationship. also (relevant for odasku’s scenario), the orphans are still alive. my writing my universe. i'm actually beastzai in another au where everyone lives and is happy and everything is okay. use of pet names "sweetheart" (chuuya scenario) "angel" (dazai scenario) and "love" (oda). general hurt/comfort drabbles :) lmk if I should add anything! i would NOT consider this proofread because I read it half-asleep at midnight trying to edit it so forgive me for any mistakes 🙏

special shoutouts to @dorotheasdiary + @aouzi for hyping me up/listening to my rambles abt this work!! sorry for the tag </3

chuuya.

sometimes the urge to give up became too strong. 

was it too much to ask time to stop for just one day? it seemed all your pleas to the sky were falling on deaf ears.

still, as all things do, you eventually lost the motivation to keep pushing forward on your own.

like a runner who trips upon a small pebble and can’t get back into their pace, slowly, slowly falling behind the others.

the one difference was that you had come to a complete stop. you'd never allowed yourself a break until you were completely burnt out; unable to move even a muscle.

you haven’t even made it out of bed the whole day. 

the room was starting to feel sick and stuffy with how long you’d laid in those sheets that no longer seemed to provide any comfort. rather, you felt like you were simply dirtying the sheets by continuing to lie there, purposeless, useless.

you barely had it in you to call out of work before drifting back into a mundane sleep that you continued to wake up and fall back into for the better half of the day. you hadn’t looked at your phone after sending a quick text to your manager, unprepared for whatever kind of passive-aggressive response they'd messaged back with because of your late notice. the unknown was too much right now, you couldn't focus on anyone you couldn't read but yourself. you didn’t want to be around friends, family, or people out on the street, where your mind would run rapid laps around itself, trying to figure out what everyone thought of you.

at work, it was the same; sizing yourself up to your coworkers, figuring out how well-liked you were— how replaceable you would be if one day you suddenly up and dropped, or, more likely in your mind, you annoyed everyone enough that they let you go. 

never really knowing what others thought terrified you. obviously it wasn't the norm despite living in a world filled with those gifted with abilities to be able to read another's mind but that didn’t mean your mind could simply let the anxieties go. your head always seemed to be buzzing, preoccupied with concerns about something.

which is why you had tried to block everything out, the moment you woke up this morning and every rustle of your legs tumbled in the sheets was too loud for your ears; a playlist of music on shuffle played softly from your phone nearby, giving your brain something mindless to focus on while you had your head pressed between pillows to deafen out the rest of the world.

you didn’t feel any better or any energized despite how much you had slept today, but at the very least, sleep often took you away from constantly having to listen to whatever your mind wanted to rave and overthink next.

'what time is it? have i even gotten up once today? i should at least walk around. clean up. i'll never be motivated to get out of bed like this—' there your head went, taking one simple question and turning it into spindles of chains to wrap around your throat.

but when you feel the mattress sink beside you, suddenly everything goes quiet. the sheets become just sheets again–not something you’re sinking into or dirtying. someone has opened the curtains, revealing an orange sunset outside, and something nice is playing from the speaker of your phone, you realize.

he is the only one who doesn’t make your head spin. he is your grounding anchor, the gravitational force keeping your feet planted on this earth, opening your eyes to the beauty of the world you couldn’t otherwise see due your own anxieties.

“you been here all day?” he must have snuck in without you even hearing him (which isn’t hard to believe, considering the cushions you’d just been pressing to both of your ears), even giving him enough time to change. chuuya’s hair is still in a loose ponytail and he wears that black choker around his neck as always, but he’s dressed in a white shirt and some sweatpants, his gloveless hands reaching out to rub circles in your back.

he’s bare with you, and that’s what you love most about him.

you’ve had you’re insecurities about not being good enough for him and anything else typical within a relationship, but he never leaves you wondering. he grabs your hand to keep you from floating away too far, getting lost in your own thoughts, often pulling you back into the moment, when you’re lying in bed with him on quiet nights, the sides of your faces only lit by a nearby warm bedside lamp. he’ll trace the side of your face, searching your eyes, asking, “where did you go?”

and you can’t always answer, but you know, every time he asks you this question, that at least you can tell him where you are now. you’re at home with him. 

and this moment is no different, with his calloused hands gliding up and down your back, and you only let out a small whine, shuffling closer to him as best as you can with how tangled you are up in his sheets.

“what’s wrong?” he asks softly, head tilting towards you slightly as you shimmy closer. “how can i help, sweetheart?”

you like how clear he is. how he always tells you what he’s thinking. he never leaves anything up to interpretation, always silencing your thoughts before they can make an assumption and run far with it.

while in the beginning of your relationship, it was hard to always voice what you needed, you came to realize with time that when chuuya asked you what he could do to help, it wasn’t him pressuring you to tell him what was wrong. it was simply how his head worked; he wanted you to be clear about what you needed. if that meant talking out your problems, he would listen. if that meant leaving you alone, he’d give you as much time as you needed (albeit probably checking in at some points just to make sure you didn’t need anything, it was just his nature to care for you). but all in all, he just needed you to talk to him. he would talk to you, you would talk to him. that's how miscommunication was prevented. your mind always felt so clear when you were around him because of how rationally he seemed to think of everything—all you had to do was follow his lead, and everything else came easily. things were never sugar-coated between the two of you, they were said plain and simple. (and with how charming he was, chuuya’s words often ended up being just as sweet as sugar anyway, not even needing to be wrapped up in some false front. when he said “i love you,” it was something clear. a fact, not something said just to appease you or mellow things out, he said it because he meant it).

and how refreshing it was, being lost in a sea of your own murky, unclear thoughts based off of assumptions upon assumptions, to be pulled from that ocean to the shoreline and be promised that the sun would rise again.

eventually, opening up to him became easier. even thought it sometimes took a few hours, you always ended up telling him what was on your mind and he waited patiently every time. he only ever listened unless you asked for more, and he never invalidated your feelings. trusting that he was just going to listen to you, it began to take even less time to prepare yourself to open up. it became as easy as taking a sip of water; something you had to do voluntarily, but was still needed, healing, and often refreshing.

the pitch of your voice slightly heightens as you hum a “yes” in response to his question, curling up closer to him, and his fingers have found their way into your hair, combing through it. “got tired of everything,” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the side of his thigh, thankful for his contact.

“yeah? i’m sure you did, baby. you’re doing a lot. it’s good to take a break every now and then. anything in particular spur you to take the day off? there’s no shame in just deciding to take a rest day for the hell of it either, though,” he speaks as gently as his actions, shifting slightly on the bed so that you can rest more comfortably, your head now laying in his lap, and he brushes your hair out of your face as you look up at him and his pretty bangs framing his face as he leans down towards you.

you hum in thought at the question, searching your brain for the answer. was there something that had triggered you to break today? or was it just the build-up of it all? “not really anything in particular,” you shrug slightly, still admiring his golden-brown eyes, hooded and soft, gazing into your own, “just felt like everything came toppling down today. i’ve just been thinking too much about what others think of me. i don’t feel that important to the world, or my job. i’m easily replaceable–nothing special–and yet i have to keep fighting for this job. i have to fight to occupy space for myself in the world when i never even asked to be here in the first place. —and of course you make everything better but i mean–you know me. you’re good to me. you’re too good to me. and sometimes i can’t understand why you waste all of that goodness in you on me.” by the time you’re finished, he’s gently lifted your head out of his lap to lay down on his side next to you, continuing to face you the entire time. 

you finish your long-winded explanation of unreasonable worries, and he only stares into your face, and you begin to shift under his eyes uncomfortably. his head his propped up in his hands, and he wears a small smile on his face, eyes flicking every few moments to focus on a different part of your face. “...chuu?” you whisper his name quietly, and his smile only grows.

“sorry, got too caught up admiring your pretty face,” he apologizes, and there he goes again, being so honest it makes your heart squeeze sometimes. he shifts his position slightly, reaching out his free hand to intertwine his slender fingers with yours, gently pressing the pads of his fingertips against your own, playing with them. “well, first of all, don’t think of your life through the lens that you are now. you can’t control or read anyone else’s mind, and that’s okay. people make a lot of irrational decisions anyway, it’s impossible to predict what someone will do, so don’t worry about what they think. what makes how they perceive you or what they think more correct than what you feel? they could be totally wrong about something, and they are if they think you’re replaceable, or bad, or whatever. don’t make yourself smaller for anyone else. you’re so smart and thoughtful and if anyone makes you feel bad about who you are, i’ll talk shit back to them, alright?”

you nod at his words but don’t meet his attempt to lighten the mood, only shifting closer again, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. his hand is back on your head, keeping you close while combing through your hair. “i think you're perfect as you are, [y/n]. i wouldn't want you any other way. you're the only thing on my mind all the time and you’re all i think about—if you're worried about what goes through my mind. i'll always be here for you, i'll be right behind you even if the world is against you. all you need is me, i’d burn everything to the ground for you in a heartbeat."

dazai.

as a kid, you quickly learned not to fight back. 

others were allowed to be angry and lash out, but when you did the same, it was wrong wrong wrong.

when you were young, you learned that love was conditional.

there was no understanding when it came to your emotions. no matter the kind of day that you had you were still expected to always be kind and patient, and never yell back.

to be loved–or rather, to simply survive in this world, you had to be the smaller person; never expect someone to love you for who you are, but because they like that you’re agreeable, quiet, and passive. never expect anyone to care about how you feel, no matter how close of a friend they are.

and surely, you couldn’t expect any kind of empathy from a coworker.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, and you could feel the way your chest contracted, suffocating with you, every time you were the brunt of kunikida’s critiques. there was no middle between letting the man belittle you to a husk of your former self or the scariest option of all: say something and risk your dynamic with him worsening even more.

setting boundaries and speaking your mind had never been things that came easy to you, as admitting that something was wrong in your relationship with someone always seemed to leave a gaping hole in the relationship that would always be prevalent, at least to you. telling someone who seemed to be unaware of how unkind their words were “you’re hurting me” seemed to always make things awkward between you and the other party. they realized they could no longer throw you around and every time they left, you couldn't help but think you should've dealt with it and kept your mouth shut. 

so you smile and nod along to whatever kunikida’s ordering you to do next, fake laughing when he says something about how important the job is and to make sure you don’t fail, as if such an option was even possible. you had never messed up anything he asked you to do, and with how long he went on about the importance of the job, you never planned to. but his ending words always reminded you of how little your efforts seemed to matter to him. he would never trust you or see you as anything better than just a little office worker to dump work on.

your face drops as soon as the man turns his back to you, and you let out a quiet sigh before returning to the laptop in front of you before hands upon your shoulders scare you.

“caught you!” a voice pops up from behind you, making you exclaim, jumping in your seat, whipping your head around to see a familiar brown-haired man. he was always causing problems for kunikida and getting scolded, and yet he seemed to be able to take everything as a light-hearted joke. he came into work every day with a smile on his face and new ways to irritate kunikida, while you couldn’t see yourself ever returning to this office if that man yelled at you the way he yelled at the boy in front of you even once.

“dazai! you scared me,” your eyes follow him as he slides into the chair next to you, slightly rolling away from you with how he’d launched himself into the seat. “what did you…catch?” you ask, watching as he scoots closer back to you again, resting his cheek on a bandaged arm atop of the oak desk you both sit at.

“now, now. let's not try and act all innocent. why are you letting him talk to you like that if it hurts you?” he asks with a smile, while your face only pales, your heart completely freezing up the moment you hear the question you fear most. you have to tear your eyes away before he sees through you anymore, and you look down into your lap, where you’re picking at your fingers. if dazai noticed it, surely others did. had kunikida been able to read your face? had you offended him because you refused to communicate your true feelings with him? maybe you seemed like a stuck-up individual in his eyes if he could tell that you were faking with him, and you weren’t sure if him believing that lie or finding out the truth would be worse.

“well i…” you trail off when his fingers come into your line of sight, intertwining them with yours, stopping you from the bad habit.

“have i ever gotten upset with you for very understandably getting annoyed at my endless antics? have we ever disagreed on something we absolutely refused to resolve? no to both. but are humans creatures of imperfection by nature? have we all made mistakes? yes, and that’s why they’re able to forgive each other unless they’re insufferably stuck up. but don’t let your head turn kunikida into a monster he’s not. he’ll understand if you ask him to speak to you less directly, or with more belief in you. he’s giving you these jobs because he trusts you, you know. he just rambles on about the importance of them because that’s who he is. you know that, and you know him. you know he’ll work to treat others with the respect they deserve, you just have to tell him so first. but he’s not going to get mad at you,” your eyes flick up from where he’s running a thumb along your knuckles up to him, only to find him already looking at you with those warm hazel brown eyes of his. he’s right, and it feels nice to be seen and not bashed for your true feelings. instead, you're being understood. under his gaze, you no longer feel weak for how sensitive or emotional you may feel. he’s looking at you like you’re worth something, worth enough that you can fight for yourself, worth enough to deserve to be comfortable in your relationships, rather than used by those near you.

“thank you,” you mumble, and he’s pulled you close by the wheels of your own chair, your knees knocking as one of his hands reach up to caress the back of your neck, soothing you further as you continue to look at him.

his lips are still curved into a smile, not the trickster one he wears as he comes up with his next plot to harass kunikida, but a soft, genuine one, like he loves and cares about you, without you even asking anything of him. maybe this is what love is; being looked at and known, without even having to open your mouth.

“of course, angel,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against the back of your scalp, “bring it up while atsuhi or i are around if you want, we’ll help you explain how you feel. you’re not alone, you never were and you never have to be."

ranpo.

ranpo’s heightened abilities to observe, infer, and understand go far past anything related to his detective work. 

the first time he found you feeling down and wanted to comfort you, he defaulted to what he knows helps him feel better (i.e. sweet treats, dim lights, warm, quiet environments). the entire time, while his hand is on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you lean against him, soft cries muffled by the blanket he’s placed over you, his brain is running the entire time with what he can do best to support you; did you like what he brung you? do you prefer to isolate yourself or do you like the company when you’re feeling down? blankets or no blankets? do you want him to talk to you and try to provide a distraction or is just being there for you what you need? touch, or no touch?

ranpo is so attentive to your needs. whatever you want and is best for you, he will get you and do for you. he gives all thanks to fukuzawa, for helping him realize not everyone sees the world the way he does, all those years ago. since then, he’s learned to be more responsive, emotionally thoughtful, and soft-hearted in his responses if that’s that what you need. but if you want to hear logic and how he’s rationalizing out your situation, he can do that, too. again, he is completely willing to bend and shape himself to your needs. the only thing he will always push for is to be in a room with you when you’re feeling down, even if you don’t want company </3

he knows when you really need to be alone, but he doesn’t like to let you be on your own for too long. he’ll always be in the next room over if you need anything, quietly pacing the room, only worried and thinking of you and if he can do anything more for you. if you’re curled up in bed all night, he’ll eventually knock on the door to ask if he can sleep with you and keep you company. he wholeheartedly believes letting other people help you and be there for you helps, especially to prevent you from spiraling down any pits of despair or insecurity. he wants you to know how much he cares about you and your wellbeing, he wants to be there to hold you close, press gentle kisses to your head, and murmur promises that he’ll never ever leave you alone.

but if you say no to company, he is happy to sleep on the couch and will be up the moment you call his name if you need something or decide you do want company. he is there completely for you always and whenever, and all of it comes from a place of love. he’ll never push you to do anything or tell him anything you don’t want to, and he’ll try not to infer anything even if he knows he could use context clues to find out exactly what’s upsetting you. he knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready if you want to, and it’s never his job to be in your business. his only responsibility is to love you and make sure you know it <3

oda.

you’ve never been great at facing your own problems, and you’re even worse at facing others in your time of struggle. it feels impossible to rely upon anyone, no matter how close they are to you.

sakunosuke oda is a selfless man, always taking care of others, putting their wellbeing above his own. he took in five orphans despite knowing the increased risk to his own safety that would come with taking care of them, and he still chose to do it despite not having a place of his own to take care of them at. he gives half of his wage as one of the lowest-ranking members of the port mafia to the kids every time he receives his salary and he’s never once deviated from the habit.

you know he’d drop everything for you if you told him what was wrong, but you couldn’t do that to him. it didn’t feel that serious. and worst of all, telling him how you were feeling would only cause him to cut his job short and then he’d be standing there with you while you continued to wallow in misery; of course his presence would help you feel better, but it wouldn’t immediately solve everything.

it wasn’t worth it. was your justification as you slipped out of your shared apartment. it wasn’t worth telling someone else how you were feeling, because they couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t even figure out for yourself what was wrong. you had to make your existence worth it instead, then. the best way you found, to distract yourself from your feelings and make sure they remained pushed down, was by helping others. no one whose in need of help often asks how others are truly doing, and you like that about them.

you don’t tell him where you’re going. you have nothing to hide; you just don’t want to worry him. you’ll tell him if he asks, but for now, you’re on your own.

but what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t know you? if he hadn’t memorized and kissed every mole, freckle, and blemish adorning your body? he knew you better than you realized, although you could never fully accept the fact that he paid attention to you, remembered your likes and dislikes, and knew your habits and routines like the back of his hand, all just because he loves you.

and when he comes home from work to an empty house, searching for any traces of you, he’s not worried. he has an idea of where you are and he knows that all he needs to do is text you, if he's curious. and he doesn’t immediately push his assumptions onto you about why you might be out and where; he knows you can take care of yourself and that you’ll communicate your needs to him. so when he texts you, it's not that he's demanding that you come home or ot tell him your whereabouts. rather, his texts are just to let you know he cares and is waiting for you at home.

sakunosuke ♡ : i’m home, just wanted to let you know

sakunosuke ♡ : text me if you need anything. and be safe

if he sees that you haven’t at least read his message within an hour or if he just can't wait to see you when you get home, whenever that may be, he already knows where to find you nine times out of 10. he’ll text the owner of his favorite curry shop, asking him if he’s seen you while already on his way down to the restaurant.

it's usually where he can find you there when you’re feeling down; braiding sakura’s hair, folding their laundry, coloring with one of the boys, helping out downstairs in the kitchen, or wherever else you can find a place to keep yourself busy. he knows that you’re always like this when you’re upset, and if you won’t take the day off to take care of yourself, then he will do it for you happily and well. he won’t even try to pull you away from what you’re doing–he’ll simply sit down with you, grabbing his own colored pencil while making small talk with the kids, giving you a small smile when you realize he's come into the room. or suddenly he’s next to you, helping you carry and hang up laundry, or drying off the dishes you’re washing.

and then before you know it, you’re walking home with him, hand in hand, a plastic bag rustling in his free one. you’ve both stopped to get food on the way home, and once you make it there, he’s immediately sitting you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “let me do everything, love.” he’ll help you out of your clothes into something more comfortable, holding your hair back while you wash your face and clean up, he’ll pull your chair out for you as you sit back down, and run a hand through your hair, keeping any stray strands out of your face as you eat. 

outside of the house, you can bury your feelings as much as you want to and work to please others, but at home with him, you’re the focus. you’re the one who’s honored and worshipped in the house. sakunosuke’s not letting you lift a finger if he can help it, and you can’t get away with continuing to ignore your feelings when his only desire is to help you.

and you’ll tell him what’s bothering you when you’re ready. he knows that after how long you both have been together. and so in the meantime, he’ll wait patiently, showering you with all the love in the world. ♡

[octaneink]

Come take your chance with me

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Summary : The reader likes Will, she decides to show that she loves him in the most romantic way she can think of. Write a song dedicated to him. Now she just has to post it privately on YouTube so James can have a look at it... Right? Warnings : none (unless you count some cheesy ass writing) Notes : I have once again decided to write something based off a song that just got me in the mood! Its a bop, 10/10 would recommend. Also, I know nothing about music theory, I looked up most of this stuff on Google, I apologise if I got it wrong.

You sit cross-legged on your bed, your guitar resting against your knees, the hum of your desk lamp casting long, flickering shadows on the notebook sprawled open in front of you. The room is quiet except for the occasional creak of your chair and the faint hum of the city outside your window. Your mind, however, is anything but quiet.

Will’s smile flickers in your thoughts—that easy, crooked grin that’s been haunting you for months. You can still see it so clearly: the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, the way he’d leaned in close to hear you over the noise of the bar that first night, his breath warm against your ear. Focus, you chide yourself, shaking your head as if it will dislodge the memory.

The melody has been looping in your head for days, an insistent rhythm that feels like it’s woven itself into your very being. The instrumental beat, the steady thrum of the would be drums—it’s like an earworm no one else can hear, a secret soundtrack only you know. It’s there when you wake up, humming in the back of your mind as you brush your teeth. It’s there when you’re scrolling through your phone, tapping out the rhythm on your thigh. It’s there when you’re lying in bed at night, the notes swirling in the dark like fireflies you can’t catch.

But the words? The words are a mess.

“I’m lost in your eyes"

You pause, tapping your pen against the paper. I'm lost in your eyes? Too cliché. Too… obvious. But the next line comes unbidden, as if your heart has been waiting for permission to speak:

“But you’re the cool to my calm each day…”

You wince. Cool to my calm? That sounds like something you’d find on a motivational poster in a dentist’s office. You nearly scratch it out, but the rhythm of the words keeps your hand still. It isn’t perfect, but it’s honest. And isn’t that what matters?

Your mind drifts back to Will. You’d met on a night out, of course. James, your best friend since college, had dragged you to some trendy sports bar downtown. “You need to get out more,” he’d insisted. “You’re turning into a hermit.”

You’d rolled your eyes but let him drag you along anyway. And there he was: Will Lenney, standing at the bar with a drink in hand, his laugh cutting through the noise like a beacon. James had introduced you, and Will had flashed you that grin—the one that makes your stomach do somersaults.

Will said your name, “Nice to meet you. James talks about you all the time.”

“All good things, I hope,” you’d replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Mostly,” Will had teased, his eyes sparkling.

That had been six months ago. Six months of late-night conversations, of stolen glances, of moments that felt like they could mean something if either of you dared to say it out loud.

You sit cross-legged on your bed, your guitar resting against your knees. The chorus has been nagging at you all day, a snippet of melody that refuses to leave you alone. You strum a chord, humming under your breath.

“Honey dance with me

Come take your chance with me"

It’s catchy, you have to admit. But is it too much? Too obvious? You groan, flopping back onto your pillows. Writing a song about someone who has no idea how you feel is harder than you’d thought.

Your phone buzzes on the night stand.

Will (9:42 PM): You free this weekend? James and I are filming a collab. Thought you might want to hang after.

Your heart leaps, but you force yourself to play it cool.

You (9:43 PM): Depends. Will there be snacks?

Will (9:43 PM): Obviously. I’m not a monster.

You smile, your fingers itching to pick up the guitar again. Maybe you’ll figure out the bridge tomorrow.

Past you was clearly an optimist.

The bridge is giving you trouble. You’ve rewritten it three times already, but nothing feels right. Each attempt feels like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands—close, but never quite there.

“Now we’ve been losing our way

A little bit more every day…”

It’s close, but something is missing. You sigh, setting the guitar aside and reaching for your coffee. The song is almost done, but the closer you get to finishing it, the more terrified you become. What if Will hears it and realises it’s about him? What if he hates you for thinking about him in that way? What if he doesn’t?

Your phone buzzes again.

James (11:15 AM): How’s the song coming?

You (11:16 AM): It’s… coming. I think. Maybe.

James (11:16 AM): You’re overthinking it. Just finish it already.

Easier said than done.

By the end of the week, the song is done. You sit back, your fingers sore and your heart pounding. You glance at the clock and groan. You have work in the morning, but there’s no way you’re sleeping now.

Instead, you grab your phone and open your messages.

You (12:07 AM): Hey, James. You awake?

The response comes almost immediately.

James (12:08 AM): Barely. What’s up?

You (12:08 AM): I wrote something. Can you look at it? Tell me if it’s too… much.

James (12:09 AM): Send it over.

You snap a picture of the lyrics and hit send, your stomach twisting as you wait for his reply.

James (12:12 AM): This is… wow.

You (12:12 AM): Wow good or wow bad?

James (12:13 AM): Wow good. It’s raw. It’s… you. Will’s going to lose his mind when he hears it.

Your breath catches. When he hears it? You hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

You (12:14 AM): I don’t know if I can let him hear it. What if he hates it? And its still not finished…

James (12:15 AM): He won’t. Trust me.

You don’t respond, your mind racing coming up with random, horrible, horrific scenarios of what or how he’d react when he heard it.  

But then you think of his smile, of the way he’d looked at you that night at the bar, and something in your chest tightens. Maybe it’s worth the risk.

The red recording light glares at you, unblinking, as if it’s judging every note, every word, every breath. You’ve been at this for hours—days, really—trying to get it right. The song is finished, but capturing it perfectly feels impossible. You’ve already done seven takes, and now you’re on your tenth. Or is it the eighteenth? You’ve lost count.

Your voice wavers on the line “murky waters, baby,” and you stop mid-verse, groaning in frustration. You hit pause on the recording software and slump back in your chair, running a hand through your hair. It’s late—way too late—but you can’t stop now. Not when you’re so close.

You glance around your home studio, a space you’ve spent years curating. The room is small but cosy, soundproofed with foam panels you and James installed last summer. Your guitar rests on a stand next to your keyboard, and your mic—a decent condenser you saved up for—sits in front of you, its pop filter catching the soft glow of the desk lamp. Your laptop screen displays the waveform of your latest attempt. It’s not terrible, but it’s not perfect.

You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and recall how to get to where you are now.

The first day is a disaster. You’re too nervous, too stiff, too aware of every little mistake. Your voice cracks on the high notes, and you keep stumbling over the words. “Honey dance with me (oh sugar)” sounds more like a question than an invitation, and you cringe every time you play it back.

You give up after the fifth take, deciding to focus on the guitar track instead. You plug in your acoustic, adjusting the mic placement until the tone is just right. You record it clean, layering in a soft strumming pattern that matches the rhythm of the song. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

By the third day, you’ve managed to record a decent vocal take. It’s not flawless, but it’s raw and honest, and you decide that’s better than perfect. You open your DAW—Digital Audio Workstation—and begin syncing the vocals with the guitar. You add subtle reverb to give it that dreamy, intimate feel, tweaking the EQ until your voice sits just right in the mix.

You play it back, your heart pounding as you listen to the chorus. 

It’s close. So close. But something’s missing.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted. Your fingers are sore from playing the guitar, your throat is raw from singing, and your eyes are burning from staring at your laptop screen for hours on end. But the song is finally done.

You play it back one last time, your heart in your throat. It’s not perfect, but it’s yours. It’s you.

You open YouTube, preparing to upload the video. You set it to Private, your thumb hovering over the upload button. You’re not ready for anyone to hear it—not yet. But then your phone buzzes.

Will (1:14 AM): You up?

Your heart skips a beat. You glance at the screen, your thumb slipping as you fumble to reply.

Public.

You don’t realise your mistake until it’s too late.

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing incessantly on your nightstand. Groaning, you reach for it, squinting against the harsh light of the screen. The notifications are overwhelming—hundreds, maybe thousands, of them. YouTube comments, Twitter mentions, Instagram DMs. Your heart skips a beat as you open YouTube and see the number: 1.2M views.

Overnight.

Your stomach drops. You sit up, your hands trembling as you scroll through the comments.

“This is so beautiful. Who’s it for? 👀”

“The way she sings ‘your lips on mine’… I’m obsessed.”

“Who’s Will?? Someone find him!”

You freeze. The description. You’d written it in a sleep-deprived haze last night, not thinking anyone would actually see it.

“For Will.”

That’s all it said. No last name, no context. Just two words that now have the entire internet speculating.

You open TikTok, against your better judgement. The first video that pops up is a stitch of your chorus, overlaid with a clip of a random guy named Will from some obscure show. The caption reads: “Found him! This is the Will she’s singing about. #HoneyDanceWithMe”

The comments are worse.

“No way, that’s not him. She’s way too talented for that guy.”

“It’s obviously about Will Smith. She’s just being subtle.”

“Will SMITH?? Girl that man is married. She’s obviously talking about Will Stuart.”

“This song is a BOP. Also, Will better step up because this is breath taking.”

You close the app, your face burning. This is worse than you thought.��

You cradle your face and scream into your hands. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be private. A secret. Something you could share when you were ready—if you were ever ready.

Your phone buzzes again, and you flinch. It’s James.

James (8:57 AM): You didn’t mean to do that...right?

You (8:58 AM): NO WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT?? 

You (8:58 AM): ALSO 

You (8:58 AM): NOT HELPING!!

James (8:59 AM): Relax. It’s raw. It’s… you. Will’s been asking for your address, by the way.

Your stomach drops. Will’s been asking for your address.

You type out a response, delete it, then type it again.

You (9:00 AM): What did you tell him?

The three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again.

James (9:01 AM): Relax, I didn’t give it to him. Yet.

You groan again, louder this time. This is a nightmare. A beautiful, terrifying nightmare.

By noon, you’re a wreck. You’ve avoided social media, but the texts keep coming. Friends, acquaintances, even your mum has seen the song.

Mum (12:30 PM): Pumpkin, is this about that boy you told me about? The one with the nice smile?

You groan, flopping back onto your bed. This is a disaster. You type back a quick yes and for the moment, ignored her messages.

Your phone buzzes again.

Will (12:45 PM): Hey. You okay?

You stare at the message, your heart pounding. What do you even say? Hey, sorry I accidentally wrote a song about you and posted it online. My bad.

Before you can reply, another text comes through.

Will (12:46 PM): The song’s amazing, by the way.

Your breath catches. He’s heard it. Of course, he’s heard it. It’s everywhere.

You (12:47 PM): Thanks. I didn’t mean for it to go public.

Will (12:48 PM): I know. James told me. You okay?

You’re not sure how to answer that.

The knock comes at 1:00 PM sharp. You’ve been pacing for what feels like hours, your stomach in knots, your mind racing with a thousand what-ifs. You glance at yourself in the hallway mirror—hair a mess, still in your pajamas, and a worn old hoodie, eyes wide with panic. Great. Perfect timing.

You take a deep breath, smoothing your hair as best you can, and open the door.

There he is. Will. Standing on your doorstep, his hands shoved in his pockets, that familiar grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his eyes are soft, almost hesitant.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You step back to let him in, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and for a moment, the two of you just stand there in the quiet of your hallway. The air feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

“So… the song,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You wince, crossing your arms over your chest like a shield. “Yeah. The song.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “It’s amazing. Really.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “Thanks.”

He hesitates, then reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch is light, almost tentative, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “You could’ve just told me, you know,” he says, his voice soft.

You look up at him, your breath catching. “Told you what?”

He smiles, that same crooked grin that’s been haunting you for weeks. “That you feel the same way I do.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Will, I—”

But before you can finish, he steps closer, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. He murmurs your name, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to say anything. The song said it all.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s soft at first, tentative, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you lean into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepens, sweet and slow, like honey dripping from a spoon. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the warmth of his body, the way his breath hitches when you slide your fingers into his hair.

It’s messy and imperfect, just like the song, but it’s real. It’s you.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“So,” he says, his voice rough, a grin tugging at his lips. “Does this mean I get to dance with you?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you. “Shut up.”

He kisses you again, quick and playful this time. “Never.”

[yurisorcerer]

Every week I walk in to the torment nexus and walk out with my heart broken in three places. What a fucking show.

Some interesting play with structure and framing this episode. At last week's conclusion Soyo was shown discovering Mortis, and the whole scene was framed in slasher movie tones. Here, now that she has a better idea of Mortis' whole, you know, thing, Mortis is instead framed as the angry, lost girl that she really is. I really enjoyed (and did not at all expect) Soyo actually playing along with Mortis' whole 'calling the doctor' bit, it shows a pretty deep empathy that I don't really know if we've seen the character express before? (It's been a while since I watched MyGO, so I may be forgetting something.) Also, she apparently spends 3 whole days sleeping over there trying to patch things up, which, while there's definitely a selfish aspect to her motive (she misses CRYCHiC too, after all), I think deserves serious real one points. I don't think I have the emotional stamina to spend 3 whole days consoling anyone about anything.

Full credit to Rana also, who can just intuit what's going on with Mortis and Mutsumi without even actually being told. (She doesn't actually go out of her way to help, though, and spends a decent amount of time this episode playing with cats. Rana remains this subseries' most mysterious character.) Mortis actually seems to develop a bit of a crush on her, and is that a twinge of jealousy I detect from Soyo about that fact? My god, what a relationship chart this series has.

I like Umiri's brief scene in this episode. Forever the eternal mercenary, she describes the breakup of Ave Mujica as though it happened around her and not to her. And yet when Ricky Taki calls her on this, she gets annoyed. Truly the "fake ass IDGF'er" meme in human form.

The first half of this episode, I must stress, is actually pretty light by this show's standards. So of course, there needs to be a breaking point somewhere. Here, that breaking point is between Mortis and Mutsumi, who stirs for the first time in a solid month only to find how awry things have gone in her absence. This isn't what she wanted, and Mortis is appalled to learn so. The two have an argument in headspace, which of course to anyone outside of the Mutsumi-Mortis system's own head just looks like an argument with herself, and she actually carries on so bad that she ends up tripping and falling in front of Live House Ring and making a huge scene, which of course a throng of anonymous busybodies are nearby to witness. It's SO much that it would come off as contrived if the show weren't so set on showing us how badly this is fucking over Mutsumi and Mortis. It's hard to watch.

There is something admirable about the show's complete lack of handholding with this kind of thing. This episode alone depicts multiple conflicts within a fully-realized mental space, a tug-of-war between Mortis and Mutsumi for their collective fate that is just profoundly sad to witness. I do wonder how legible this is to audiences who aren't plural. Part of me---literally part of me---is worried this series might be too ahead of its time for most audiences to properly appreciate.

(I've barely talked about Sakiko here and she is absolutely going through it up and down this episode. From the horrible, obviously untrue claims she makes about not caring about either band or even about Mutsumi, to the fucking folder of notes she's gotten from Tomori over the years, to the fact that she sadly looks for another one despite telling Tomori off for them last week. To. This fucking expression, just, god.)

There's a mostly-lighthearted interlude with Nyamu (it remains really funny that her dark secret, compared to everyone else's, seems to just be that she's from the sticks), but even that is twinged with her finding out about Mortis and Mutsumi's public breakdown. The episode then ends with MyGO finding out about Sakiko's whole extremely fucking complicated family situation. Episode 7 is entitled "Post nubila Phoebus," "after the clouds, the Sun." In most other contexts that would be a shining beam of hope, and maybe it is here too, but I'm fairly sure things will get worse before they get better. (Recall, we still have no idea what's going on with Uika, just as one example, and she's the only character from either band who doesn't put in even a cursory appearance in this episode. Where is she!)

[tobyisave]

Omg hey! Thanks for taking the time to engage/share your thoughts even though you don't fully agree, I really appreciate it. And I don’t really disagree with you here, I just want to reply with my thoughts since you raised some interesting points!

Learned behaviors vs experiential gap: Absolutely the empathy/emotions thing is my weak link here, I'd call it a shameless projection that isn't necessarily supported by but consistent with canon lol. The only part I'd be reluctant to concede is the low empathy thing, but ultimately, an alternative interpretation where he's just really damn good at repressing is viable as well!

The learned behavior interpretation as you put it definitely makes sense, and I get the impression that it's more popular too. Kokichi's a really confusing guy and I think the interpretations we find most intuitive are probably going be the ones that relate his thought process to experiences we're familiar with, because that helps us grasp some semblance of humanity within him. All this to say I don't think there's anything that makes my explanation any better than yours; like you said, the truth is ambiguous, and I think it's best to gather as many different plausible interpretations as possible even if they don't lead to an "answer," because it lets us appreciate his writing and our relationship to our own interpretations. So I really appreciate you taking the time to put your version in words!

Gonta: On a similar note, I've basically lost hope that we'll ever know for certain what was going on in Kokichi's head here — and in spite of my giant footnote, I don't actually have a well-formed opinion myself — but I really like your point that his words gave Gonta peace of mind. Ironically I think I overlooked that angle because I didn't see a pragmatic reason to do anything solely for Gonta's benefit, since at this point Gonta's fate is sealed and his emotional state has no bearing on the future (aside from its effect on others, which has pretty much already maxed out with 'pity'). But consideration for the truth Gonta sees in his final moments makes total sense from the perspective of a Kokichi who's more emotionally 'typical,' and your interpretation is compelling; it gives more weight to the specific words he says, rather than just anything plausible to mislead people on why he's crying... I'll definitely have to think that over after this.

Paranoia: Another great point that I completely failed to address. I agree he's a little paranoid, or at least a reasonable amount of paranoid given the game they're in. Subbing that in as the cause of emotional disconnection in my analysis is really interesting... At the very least, I agree that paranoia would definitely add to the impression that these are all sham conversations. Though to confidently form an opinion on this I'd have to go back and look at the lies he tells in the killing game versus everyday life with that lens. My current impression is that his lying is too deeply ingrained to have developed situationally, so if I took his social detachment as a result of paranoia then I'd have to conclude that Kokichi is constantly paranoid. Which is not my opinion, but I'm sure it could be argued. In that case, in an everyday environment, the 'low empathy/emotion' version of Kokichi mostly neglects to tell people about himself because he doesn't care, while the 'learned behavior' + paranoia version actively avoids people knowing anything about him. Neither is an explanation of his lying per se, but the former would facilitate his compulsive lying, while the latter might not facilitate lying but does create a stronger motivation to lie.

Here and in other cases, I think a lot of the difference between these two headcanons just comes down to how good you think Kokichi is at acting and ignoring his emotions. 'Low empathy' Kokichi doesn't actually fight his instincts much, at least until shit really hits the fan, and that’s part of why that explanation appeals to me. Meanwhile 'learned behavior' Kokichi is frequently suppressing his instincts, successfully enough that I almost have trouble imagining someone being able to act that well (grain of salt, that’s *definitely* a blind spot for me - and more importantly, he is an Ultimate so I can’t put any kind of talent past him). My own reservations aside, the interpretation of Kokichi as someone naturally social who constantly has to fight his instincts definitely has its own merit; it’s emotionally compelling (in a pretty unique way that’s very different from mine) and probably more accessible as well.

Well, hope you didn't mind me writing an essay response to your response to my essay here lmao. I'm definitely starting to appreciate how challenging it is to figure this guy out; it's almost the opposite of the SDR2 problem, where Komaeda tells you his mindset from the get-go but the game never gives you a moment to recontextualize his actions after his death. V3 points at Kokichi and goes look, a mystery! we must recontextualize his actions! and then proceeds to give us basically nothing to go off of. All I can really aim to do is propose something with consistent internal logic, and I'm very glad if you think I managed to do that.

Again thanks for the rb, it's a treat to get such a long comment on my analysis!!

Character analysis: Why does Kokichi lie?

I think lying is more than just a means to an end for Kokichi, so this is my personal understanding of Kokichi's habitual lying, centered on the headcanon that he experiences his own emotions very weakly.

In a vain attempt to make this post more streamlined, I've isolated most textual examples into footnotes at the bottom; probably only read them if you don’t buy what I’m saying in the sentence prior. Lastly, if you disagree with something I say here and choose to make it known: probably read the footnotes first, and regardless please just be nice about it :')

"If I wanna become closer to Shuichi, I probably shouldn't lie so much... But that's my shtick... or more like, my way of life..." (Kokichi's inner thoughts from Salmon Team)

Small lies vs Big lies

To start this off, I need to clarify that there's (at least) two very different kinds of Kokichi lies. First are the “big” lies, like being the mastermind or lies about the nature of DICE. Big lies are consistent, told with a “straight face,” and well thought-out, because they usually serve some kind of strategic purpose [e.g. footnote 1]. But those aren't the kind of lies I'm aiming to explain here, because they're already well discussed and follow a pretty understandable logic.

I'm focusing on what I call "small" or compulsive lies: trivial claims & performed emotions that are usually not believed for long, either because they’re too outlandish or because he or someone else disproves them. For example, sobbing that he hates coffee and then asking for a cup of coffee; or telling the seance participants he's "actually super duper strong," despite knowing full well they're about to watch him struggle to carry the iron cage [more ex. in note 2]. Most of Kokichi's lies fall into this category imo, especially in low-stakes environments like Salmon Team and UTDP. Unlike big lies, "small" lies are somewhat unique to Kokichi, he tells/performs them constantly regardless of context, and they don’t serve a very clear purpose.

Masking

I think Kokichi got very good at performing emotions from a young age in order to mask the fact that he doesn't experience empathy or other emotions very strongly. And maybe that sounds like a very specific headcanon, but just stick with me here... [and/or see note 3 for one line of evidence]. Failing to emote convincingly would’ve not only made it difficult to exist in everyday society, but it probably would’ve put an even bigger target on his back as a criminal, too… So yeah, he learned.

But as it turns out, spending an (admittedly very short) lifetime pretending to have emotions you don’t actually have is a fantastic way to:

Start feeling detached from the people around you,

Start seeing everyone else as suckers for buying it, and

Very quickly lose any moral qualms about lying — after all, people would attack him from every direction if he was honest about his feelings towards them (or lack thereof), so how is it fair that they want to punish him for lying, too? There’s just no winning!

My interpretation boils down to this: Kokichi lies compulsively because he is deeply bored, and the kick he gets out of deceiving people is one of the only things he finds consistently rewarding about talking to them. Most social interactions already feel like lies to him because he is constantly forced to mask, so he might as well tell fun lies about being a supervillain instead of boring, easy lies about wanting to be friends with everyone.

(Continued under the cut)

Not all lies are strategic

I think it's easy to assume at first that the only reason to lie is for some sort of material influence: changing others' behavior or hiding undesirable truths, either for your own selfish gain or the greater good. Definitely, there is a purpose like that for most of Kokichi's "big" lies, and even some of his "small" ones (e.g. the kind of short-lived lies both he and Shuichi tell in order to advance the Class Trials). But even in retrospect, not every lie he tells can be explained with an external motivation like that, selfish OR unselfish.

I think telling "small" lies is more of a habit for Kokichi than a strategic choice, something he can't quit even when it becomes an actively bad strategy (hence "compulsive"). But if you’re already with me on this, feel free to just skip to the next section :P

A. Small lies aren't meant to be believed.

I don't think Kokichi tells lies in order to actually mislead people most of the time — because if he wanted people to believe his small lies, then he wouldn't be constantly retracting them. Many (or even most) of his small lies are soon followed up with “It’s a lie!”, either literally or by demonstrating/implying that it’s untrue [e.g. note 2 again]. [For some possible exceptions to this rule, see note 4].

Fig 1: Kokichi struggling not to give himself away after Monotarou believes his outlandish lie (V3 manga anthology). While I think this instance is a bit exaggerated, it nicely draws attention to the fact that he enjoys revealing his own lies.

By Kokichi's own doing, there is often a net 0 change in what people believe by the time they reach the end of a conversation with him. E.g. Kaede doesn't walk away from their FTE thinking Kokichi is her long-lost companion, Shuichi doesn't walk away from Salmon Team thinking Kokichi is obsessed with dumpster diving, etc. This suggests that Kokichi's not trying to change the perceived truth, he's just interested in the momentary act of tricking people.

B. Kokichi doesn’t tell small lies to alter his social standing, for better OR for worse.

I think the first half of this is self evident — I mean, if he was trying to gain status, he's doing a terrible job! He is aware of what behavior is required to make people like you and listen to you, and he is patently not doing that. 

You might then argue that he’s doing the opposite: intentionally bombing his reputation to build up to Ch.5 so that people would readily believe he’s the mastermind. While I do think his annoying lies ended up helping on that front, I don’t think his mastermind plan is the cause of this behavior, because...

Firstly, we still see him lie constantly in contexts where there's no clear advantage to being hated (UTDP, Salmon Team).

Secondly: Crying wolf is one of many great strategies to make people hate you... but it is a uniquely terrible strategy to make people believe you. If you were really going to create an evil mastermind persona out of thin air, "pretending to be a lying attention-seeker" is just not the most logical way to go about it; that would only make it harder for you to convince people that you're actually being serious when you do the big reveal that you're the mastermind [for a note on Junko, see 5]. That's why I don't think the compulsive liar thing is an act; instead the evil persona we see in game is just the result of leaning into traits people already disliked about him. The reason he tells so many meaningless small lies during the killing game is just that he already was, and is, a compulsive liar.

Again, there are some "big" lies, lies he doesn't go back on, that he tells in order to tank his reputation (e.g. "The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it"). But those big lies aren't enhanced at all by the fact that he walks around telling people the sky is green, you know? That might make people hate him, but it's not the wisest way to do so while still maintaining control over people.

Finally, regarding the argument that he tanks his credibility in order to mask his own emotions, see note [6].

So, with all that said... Why even tell these lies, if they don't give him more control over the situation, his classmates, or the truth?

Boredom

I believe Kokichi’s small lies are primarily driven by boredom. Yes, his complaints of boredom are probably meant to tie him to Junko (narratively) and justify enjoying the killing game. But I do think he’s also genuinely, chronically bored. Just because he doesn’t have vivid emotions doesn’t mean his brain isn’t expecting him to have vivid emotions, if that makes sense, so there’s just a constant lack of stimulus that leaves him restless.

On that note, I think it's difficult for him to maintain interest in everyday conversations. There's not usually a lot at stake for him, because he doesn't feel much about the people around him, and isn't interested in pretending that he does just so they can feel "connected" to a version of him that doesn't actually exist [but see 7].

It doesn't matter to him which path he takes when navigating everyday social interactions, so if he has to get through those interactions anyway, he's going to take the road less traveled. Pointing fingers, confessing to murder, and spontaneously bursting into tears… it’s not usually to accomplish anything in particular. It's more like doing backflips in an empty prison cell: equally as useless as rotting on the floor, but marginally more entertaining.

Fig 2: Kokichi consciously using lies to entertain himself. His dissatisfaction with the lie appears to be unrelated to whether or not it was believed; I suspect this is because the claim was so mundane that convincing Shuichi of it wouldn't have been very impressive in the first place.

But what's actually fun about lying?

I think this constant need for entertainment is what motivates a lot of Kokichi's social behaviors, not just lying. But he clearly has a special relationship with lies in particular. I think this is partially because of his perception of himself as "fake" (in the literal sense), but more importantly because lies are a versatile, challenging, and (relatively) harmless way to get reactions out of people.

Lying poses creative and intellectual challenges: Introducing lies basically doubles the amount of social calculations required to participate in conversation [elaboration in note 8].

Lying creates artificial stakes by reimagining ordinary conversations as competitions. By playing a game of "how many times can I fool this person in one sitting?" he creates an internal motivation to engage in conversation and perform social behaviors convincingly (at least, for short periods of time). External pressures like “being liked” aren’t usually enough to motivate that.

Lying allows him to emotionally occupy extreme scenarios without actually creating extreme scenarios. If he wants to raise tensions high enough that he can actually feel them, lying is one of the less destructive ways to do so, because it's entirely verbal (including body language, that is) and thus avoids material risk/harm. Now that's not to say it doesn't hurt people [e.g. note 9]. In fact, that's often the point; I wouldn't call him a sadist in the traditional sense, but there is something gratifying about triggering twinges of guilt and empathy in yourself if you don't normally have access to those feelings.

All this to say, Kokichi's habitual small lies aren't driven by a desire to create genuine misunderstandings, or to make people do what he wants [note 10]. I think what he actually seeks from social situations is little bursts of catharsis from witnessing other people’s emotions, and the feeling of control or "winning" that comes solely from being able to deceive them and get those reactions. 

Going "it's a lie!" right after is a really important part of this. It's a punchline, a tiny power trip, a kind of "Bingo!" he can use to declare victory. He doesn't necessarily want people to believe what he said, he just wants them to know that he totally got them and he'll do it again. Because what’s even the point of coming up with all these lies if people are just going to believe them and obliviously move on?

Lying as satire

Finally, and I’ll admit my thoughts on this aren’t quite as fleshed out, but I almost imagine Kokichi's lies as a form of satire, given that one of the few things he seems genuinely (?) passionate about is his right to lie. That is to say, it means something to him, in addition to being internally rewarding. He's had to present a false persona of himself from day one, after all — but now that he's a self-proclaimed bad guy, there's a lot less pressure to do it well. Performing those social behaviors in random, nonsensical patterns, and telling lies that feel just as true as the "honest conversation" he's learned to fake... it's like a form of indignant social button-mashing. It doesn't really matter if his performance conveys a coherent image of a person or not, because it was always arbitrary to him in the first place, you know?

….And I think I'm just going to stop myself there before this gets any longer. Tysm for reading!!!! <3

Disclaimer

…Actually that was a lie, let me get on my soapbox real quick. I think it's safe to say this essay hinges on Kokichi having some form of neurodivergence, however you want to label it. Personally I see him as having some antisocial traits, but I didn’t want to make that a silver bullet, and I thought it’d make more sense to just take the specific traits I see in him and work backwards from there. With that in mind, I want to make it abundantly clear that I don’t mean to assign any moral value to emotions. I can’t say this headcanon is entirely based on my own experiences, but there's a reason I connect with it, and I don't think anyone should be judged or labeled inhuman for emotions they do or do not have.

Moreover, while I explicitly take the stance that his emotions are morally neutral, I am explicitly NOT taking a stance on the morality of his behaviors. My intention here was just to explain them logically. Between you and me, just trust that I'm a Kokichi enjoyer and I did my best to consider things from his perspective.

Credits

Game screencaps from justonegamr and JakkHearts on Youtube. Manga screencap from Mangadex.

I also want to plug this analysis by @/g0nta-g0kuhara — I'm honestly not sure how much of my analysis aligns with/borrows from theirs, but it's definitely one of the posts that informs my current understanding of Kokichi, so it'd feel weird not to at least mention it. Consider giving it a read!

Finally, shout out to @thedaythatwas for peer reviewing this meta!!

Footnotes

These were mostly off the top of my head, so if I got anything wrong, feel free to (again, nicely) point it out ^^;

 “Big lies serve a strategic purpose” Big lies are also what I'd call the "normal" type of lies, just like Maki's Child Caregiver lie, or Komaeda's fake bomb threat — they're meant to be believed and to influence people's decisions. Examples of Kokichi's "big lies": those he tells in order to impersonate the Mastermind (e.g. claiming he loves the killing game); lies to Miu (being oblivious to her murder plot) and Gonta (believing the Killing Game Busters is a good idea) for his Ch.4 scheme, and debatably DICE lies to protect himself and his Ultimate title (though for these I also think he just gets a kick out of trying to juggle such a big lie for so long).

“Small lies” An example of an "emotional" small lie is the times he bursts out crying; he's not necessarily making false claims, but his actions communicate feelings he doesn't have, and most of the time he'll follow up by reverting to a bored expression thus implicitly confessing to the lie. His claim that he can’t taste food is also a pretty good example of a verbal lie: it’s random, difficult to believe, and he immediately follows it up by saying he likes sweet and spicy things. (That last part was definitely intended to imply he was lying, but whether or not he was lying about lying depends on your hc… I personally choose to believe that he has a weak sense of taste and relies on “interesting” textures like carbonation, because I think it parallels my take on his reduced emotions in a fun way.) +++ For further examples, the majority of Kokichi's Salmon Team events are just him spouting random bullshit and then immediately taking it back.

"One line of evidence for reduced empathy/emotions": His thought process often reads to me like someone with low empathy; and his ability to rapidly switch between extreme emotional performances and total flatness suggests that, in his natural form, his internal reactions are either dull or don’t automatically reflect on his face. For example, when Kokichi "gets real" during trials, his expression often goes blank and he comes off as overly blunt/pragmatic (“Everything you said is total BS… You didn't give two shits about Tenko when she was alive." "How do you expect to find the culprit when you're all worried about each other's feelings?" "Why do you guys hate lies so much? […] And some of them are only white lies, or lies to be kind to people…") They're delivered flatly (voice/sprites, and phrasing to a lesser extent) and express frustration with people's hypocrisy around social norms. To me these are moments when he gets so fed up with the social dance taking everyone in circles that he has to step out for a second and drop the mask, even knowing that his true self will make people see him as inhuman. (I probably shouldn’t have to clarify, but for the record I say all this as someone with low empathy myself.) +++++ALSO: I want to credit @/g0nta-g0kuhara's meta for pointing out that Kokichi's expression goes flat in (different) honest moments - linked in credits above - although I ultimately interpret this in a slightly different way for his character.

"Some exceptions to the 'it's a lie' rule": His own thoughts and feelings, which are often kept ambiguous. Lies he doesn't need to retract because they're obviously false ("I hate liars!" or "I was born from the big tree behind Hope's Peak Academy..."). Small *non-compulsive* lies that serve a strategic purpose, like perjury to further the trials (though you could argue these too are "obviously false" and basically retract themselves after a moment of critical thinking; e.g. claiming he killed Angie (ch3), or debatably telling Himiko she mentioned the brick handrail (ch4) because he intentionally casts doubt over the lie by telling it very badly). And of course, he doesn't go back on his "big" lies or the lies that serve to support them.

“Compulsive lying isn’t the best way to impersonate the mastermind”: Although I think his lying is very connected to his boredom, and his boredom connects him to Junko Enoshima, I want to point out that he is unaware of Junko. To the viewers of Danganronpa 53, his behavior absolutely looks like the behavior of a mastermind… but there’s no reason for Kokichi himself to think that “someone pathologically bored who constantly switches personas” is the most believable caricature of the mastermind. I think that’s a coincidence that was engineered by Tsumugi, and from Kokichi’s perspective it’s just part of his personality.

"Tanking his credibility to mask his emotions": As some have pointed out, being constantly dishonest does make it easier for Kokichi to dismiss his own moments of vulnerability and keep his thoughts/feelings ambiguous (e.g. gracefully backing out of his love confession to Shuichi during the love suite by pretending he was joking. The idea that it's a prank is only believable to Shuichi because he already knows Kokichi likes to pull his leg in other ways). I don't disagree with this interpretation of Kokichi's lies, in fact it's a really fascinating angle and part of what makes interpreting him so challenging. However... I still don't think that's the ONLY reason he walks around telling people the sky is green. Its usefulness is pretty limited to cases like the love suite, where he's trying to 'test the waters' and back out if the first approach fails. A superficially similar example is when he cries for Gonta's execution and then whirls around with whole "I don't want to, stupidhead!" bit — he's not actually testing the waters here, because he never intended to go forward with the story 'I'm really sad about Gonta and I regret doing that;' even if you think the tears were real, the plan was always to retract it. What actually saves face for him here is the fact that he's able to stop crying and go on a straight-faced villain monologue afterwards — and all that was *required* to make that believable was his acting skills (admittedly helped by his "evil" reputation, but not necessarily by his "liar" reputation). In other words, I'm inclined to think it would have worked even if he had presented as 'honest but mean-spirited' up until this point. It's the same way Tsumugi can convince us in Ch.6 that she's evil and her grief for previous victims was an act, despite never having presented herself as a liar until now; Kokichi is lying about being a heartless villain, while Tsumugi (ostensibly) is not, but they have the same effect in the moment because their ability to switch rapidly between 'good' and 'evil' personas proves *in itself* that they're good actors, and that one of those personas must be false, regardless of how their honesty was perceived beforehand.

"Kokichi lacks emotional stake in other people": This is simply a headcanon I am positing because I think it has interesting implications for his relationship with lies. Please don't be mistaken when I say that Kokichi doesn't care about the people around him (all of the English words for "caring" are frustratingly ambiguous, in my opinion). I don't think Kokichi experiences "care" as an emotion very often, no, but that doesn't mean he can't take interest in people, have opinions on them, or "care about" them through his actions. Now, whether or not he actually does that.... is not the topic of this essay either!

"An intellectual challenge": To lie, you have to continually generate a false narrative (rather than just regurgitating the truth), you have to track which routes you've left open based on what you've already said, and you have to assess whether or not they believe you (...which are all similar to calculations you'd already be used to doing if you don't have empathy). If you want to win, you have to do all of this on the fly and do it really, really well. And once people know you're a liar, it not only gets harder to convince them of your lies, it also gets harder to convince them of the truth; once lies are introduced, the pressure to perform well pervades every part of the conversation. Of course, this is way more fun with bigger lies (like DICE lies, in my opinion), but the little ones still take a modest amount of effort (an amount he can afford to expend on a daily basis) and yield a much more immediate reward.

"Lying still hurts people": e.g. Kokichi accuses Kaede of strong arming everyone during the Death Road of Despair, then accuses everyone else of attacking her the following morning. This one is a complicated example because it was such an obvious lie that I really have trouble believing that he wanted anyone else to buy it (I really think the point was to annoy people and raise social tensions), but even though the lie was quickly pointed out, it still actually made everyone gang up on Kaede, to the point she leaves to cry in her room afterwards.

“Lying isn’t to make people do what he wants”: Again, I'm just talking about his everyday compulsive lying here. While he does use DICE related lies to make people do what he wants (e.g. make Shuichi hang out with him), I consider those part of his "big schemes" rather than his habitual behavior, since his claims about DICE are consistent, well thought-out, and long term. Not to mention, the veracity of those claims isn't too important to me, since he's already very transparent about the fact that he's trying to threaten people into doing his bidding in these cases.

[paintingstardust]

happy (very belated) moth day!! hehe

(moth belongs to @14dayswithyou)

[diroxide]

I’ve been working on this off and on… crazy bastard alert!!!!

[ambibug]

Red Cosmos

POSTING THIS ON MY BIRTHDAY!!!! YAY!!!! its not gonna be my birthday in like 2 hours but its still my birthday rn so it doesnt matter

so erm. sorry for not posting in like half a year. especially after i said i was gonna post art everyday for a month. oops!!!

i tend to get burnt out of social media quickly and take very very long breaks unannounced. same thing happened with my tiktok. so i apologize for that !! im not planning on quitting anytime soon buuuut this is definitely not gonna be the last time i just ghost a social,, its just the way i am chat!!!

anyways, this drawing isnt supposed to mean anythings lolz i was just messing around with filters and brushes on clip studio because I HAVE A DRAWING TABLET!!!! YAYAYAYA BEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME!!!!

[chrollogy]

[riiviir]

hi tumblr sorry I disappeared I am back with lamb

[aikaterynne]

Darkness in bloom.

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[brainrot-stitch]

How 2 do well in school, which is starting soon, no glue no borax

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon High: Chapter 22

The shrill squawking of seagulls in the sky disturbed the slumber of the newly settled Oceanclan. Hazepaw roused from his nest, groggy and a little annoyed by the noise. But when he stretched and felt sand brush the sides of his paws, a bubble of excitement grew in his chest. That's right, we're back on the beach! He remembered and celebrated internally as he sat up to tidy his pelt. Grains of sand met his tongue, salty and earthy all at once. It felt like forever since he had so much sediment in his fur. It was comforting in a way. A sensation Hazepaw never knew he'd miss. But he'd never admit that to anyone. Instead it would remain his private joy as he got up and ready for whatever the day would bring. The sunlight outside the apprentice's den was shaded over by the protection of the Twoleg Settlement Bridge. Only the smallest of sunbeams managed to sneak their way through the cracks of the wooden ceiling. Hazepaw settled into one of those spots for a heartbeat, allowing the warmth to soak on his face and wake him. Once he was sufficiently alert, the fluffy white tom made his way to the fresh-kill pile. A few small fish and rodents lay within it. It was rather pitiful looking, and meant cats would need to go out and hunt soon. For now, Hazepaw chose three mice and carried them to the elder's den. Though he hated dealing with the old fools, he knew he'd have to feed them before taking anything for himself. Dolphintail was the first to be alerted of his presence underneath the old boat, the scent of prey luring her over. Though she didn't seem at all pleased that it was Hazepaw delivering today's breakfast. Still, the eldest of Oceanclan's ranks accepted the food she was offered, and carried it to another part of the den to be consumed. Closeby, Whisperpaw was working on taking ticks off of Chloe. The elders had gathered many during their time in the Forest Patch. Now that they were home, the old cats could be properly cleansed of the nasty little parasites. It seemed Whisperpaw was just finishing up as Hazepaw dropped a mouse at the elderly kittypet's paws.

"You couldn'ta brought a gull instead?" Chloe griped with an indignant tail lash. Hazepaw growled at the old she-cat in frustration, glaring at her sharply. Whisperpaw shook her head, silently begging him not to start a fight. After a heartbeat and a huff, Hazepaw backed away, delivering his last mouse to Oystersplash.

"Thank you," the elder mewed gratefully as he tucked into his meal. Hazepaw dipped his head to the old warrior, pleased to know at least one cat was satisfied. Then he padded back to where Whisperpaw was working. He still needed to speak with her and apologize, like Otterpaw wanted. Now was as good a time as any to make up.

"...I'm surprised you can stand to be in the same den as me right now," he remarked after watching Whisperpaw clean up for a few quiet moments. "You've been so skittish whenever I'm around."

Whisperpaw jolted at the sound of his voice, the fur on her spine standing a little. She continued to tidy up as they carried on a conversation, as if she were trying to distract herself. "Well, I can't avoid you forever..." she responded, her voice as quiet as ever. She glanced over her shoulder then back to a mousebile and tick soiled mossball she'd rolled up. "Besides. Otterpaw told me about the talk you two had."

"She did?" Hazepaw ears perked. Perhaps Otterpaw had done some of the hard part and talked Whisperpaw into hearing him out. "I...don't suppose she told you how sorry I am on my behalf, though, did she?" Hazepaw lifted his chin hopefully. Whisperpaw turned, tilting her head at him, unamused. She knew well what Hazepaw was talking about. But she clearly wanted to hear the words come out of his own muzzle. Hazepaw gave a disgruntled sigh. "Right. Ok. Well listen, Whisperpaw. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. It was uncalled for, and I really didn't mean any harm. I just wanted to help you since you've been struggling with your warrior training. But I see now the way I went about it was harsh. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me."

For a few heartbeats, Whisperpaw sat silently, expression unreadable. "I've always liked you, Hazepaw," she started, tail-tip wiggling anxiously, "but it scared me that you'd turned your bullying onto me. It hurt worse than the lashes you gave, I think. It's hard to forgive you."

Hazepaw lowered his head, shame and a bit of frustration burning beneath his pelt. "I know. I really didn't mean any harm though, honest. You're my friend. Probably my first ever," he confessed. He glanced between the elders, daring them to chime in. Luckily none of them spoke, instead ignoring the apprentices so they could have their moment in peace. "I just want you to be a great warrior. Especially with the huge pawprints you have to fill." He shifted to face the gray tabby she-cat. Then he lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "You're better than your littermates, and I know you can be a great leader for Oceanclan someday. I thought I could help you get there, by giving you some tough training. But it wasn't my place, and I hurt you. I regret it. I just want my friend back..." All of Hazepaw's words were spoken from the heart. But there was a small seed of gain planted in his speech. Though he did want Whisperpaw back as his friend, he also needed to stay in her good graces. If he upset Whisperpaw too greatly, he'd blow his chance at ever being Oceanclan's deputy. Then all the hard work he was putting in with Sea Breeze would be for nothing.

Whisperpaw twitched her whiskers. "I understand. But it doesn't erase the mistrust I feel for you. However, I don't want to lose your friendship either... I care for you, Hazepaw. But I need some time."

"I get it..." Hazepaw deflated, the hope inside him for reconciliation nearly snuffed out. He sat in silence for a few heartbeats, letting Whisperpaw's words soak in. She still liked him, at least. Not all was lost. Hazepaw would just have to work to prove he meant the words he'd spoken. Determination blazed in his belly, making the fluffy white tom swish his tail. I'll gain her trust back soon enough, Hazepaw thought confidently. He gave Whisperpaw a small smile, receiving a quiet yet apprehensive purr in return from her as she went back to caring for the elders. Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Hazepaw finally excused himself from the boat and emerged into the clearing of camp. Sandybreeze was padding nearby, her head moving in search of something. When her gaze fell upon Hazepaw, she trotted over to him. A heartbeat later, Otterpaw joined them.

"Just the cat I was looking for! You're coming with me to lead a fishing patrol." Fishing patrol? Excitement sprung up inside of Hazepaw at the prospect of fishing for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I'm coming too!" Otterpaw boasted, her joy nearly bursting out of her. Perhaps she was hyped up for the same reason. Or maybe she was looking forward to spending time with her aunt. Whisperpaw suddenly emerged from the elder's den; ears pricked, probably because of the tone in Otterpaw's voice.

"Can I...come too? Luckysong taught me a little about fishing," she mewed, glancing at Hazepaw apprehensively. She looked as though she were giving the request a second thought, regret on her features. Otterpaw brushed her tail along her friend's flank to reassure her.

Sandybreeze gave her whiskers a twitch. "I don't see why not. More paws catch more fish, after all. Come along, you three. Let's meet with the rest of the patrol."

The Oceanclan deputy led them to a pole at the edge of the Twoleg Settlement Bridge, towards the awaiting warriors. Urchinpaw was the first cat Hazepaw spotted. More importantly Troutwhisker, Seaweedfang, and Ripplesnout were there, too. They were the best fishers in Oceanclan. Surely the patrol would be bringing home lots of prey today! Hazepaw smirked with excitement, kneading his paws into the sand beneath them in anticipation.

"Looks like all of 'em," Ripplesnout, noted. Sandybreeze nodded in agreement then flicked her ear, prompting the patrol to head across the beach. A strong breeze ruffled their pelts as they walked, the chill making Hazepaw shiver. Though every day Greenleaf drew closer, Newleaf kept its grip on the world with stone strengthened claws. Hazepaw wished to feel warmth soak his fur at last, in the way cats described the hottest season doing. Then it would make swimming and fishing in the ocean more fun. Though the sand felt nice and hot, with the sun beating down upon the shore. If they'd had a moment, Hazepaw would have rolled around on it to heat him up. He knew once he got in the water the world would feel cold again. Maybe he could do it later, to prepare himself for swimming. For now, though, Hazepaw kept pace with his clanmates, straining his ears to catch the sound of the nearing ocean. As they padded along, Urchinpaw, Otterpaw, and Whisperpaw chatted idly beside him.

"Do you think we'll see any Twolegs while we're out here..?" Whisperpaw wondered, voice quivering a little.

"Doubt it." Urchinpaw shook out his pelt. "It's still too cold for them. Without any fur, the ocean is too much for them to handle in Newleaf."

"But look." Otterpaw gestured to some prints in the sand, leading up to then away from the shoreline. They were close in shape to Twoleg's lower paws. Yet there were none of the creatures in sight. "Appears two were here."

"Well they're long gone now," Minnowjaw assured in with his muzzle in the air. "They musta realized they weren't cut out for the beach beyond the Twoleg Madness season."

"And thank the Moon for that! We don't want those bumbling beasts around when we hunt. They'll scare off all the fish with their splashing," added Troutwhisker. The other cats nodded in agreement, pressing forward on their journey. Hazepaw smelled it before he saw it. The crisp, salty, tangy scent of the ocean was a glorious and unmistakable aroma. It made his mouth water. Energy surged through the fluffy white tom's limbs as he restrained himself from rushing to the seafoam. But Otterpaw beat him to the lunge, bursting away from the patrol to chase the strangely docile waves nearby.

"Race you to the water!" She called over her shoulder to her denmates. A darkness loomed within this part of ocean--something eerie that Hazepaw had never experienced before. In a flash, Sandybreeze rushed after her niece, rounding her to block the way just before Otterpaw managed to touch the water. She ushered the brown she-cat back to the approaching patrol, receiving an earful upon return.

"Are you fish-brained?" Snapped Minnowjaw.

"What made you think you could just run over and dive into the ocean like that? Have you no sense!?" Ripplesnout spat. Otterpaw lowered her ears in shame.

"Pipe down! These 'Paws still have a lot to learn about ocean safety," Sandybreeze growled at the warriors. Then her attention returned to Otterpaw. "From now on, be wary of calm, dark water. And never try to swim in it," she warned her niece more placidly. She didn't seem as angered by Otterpaw's actions as the other warriors.

"But why?" Asked Otterpaw, voice a bit wobbly. Whisperpaw moved to flank her.

"The ocean will pull you in and drown you, if you do. It's because of its jealousy, you see. The ocean is in love with the Moon. But they separated long ago. And so, sometimes the ocean takes out its resentment on us." Hazepaw recalled fables about Silverpelt, sometimes referred to simply as Moon. She was a mother-like figure to cats in most. While in some, she was a stubborn, vain character who only focused on herself. But she was an important figure in the Land's Star's history. Especially for Oceanclan. She was the reason cats existed in the first place.

"But why would it do that?" Urchinpaw lashed his tail with curiosity. "And why do we swim in the ocean if it just wants to kill us?"

"Because the ocean is part of our history. Just as it is part of Silverpelt's. And though it can be a great threat; the ocean is also our greatest ally. Swimming in it builds muscle, making us stronger than the other clans. It also provides us an endless supply of food, so that we never go hungry," Sandybreeze explained. "The ocean loves us as much as the Moon does. It just allows its resentment to cloud its judgment at times. That's why the water is dark, when the ocean aims to suck a cat under."

Hazepaw let out a thoughtful hum. This sounded like something Moonpaw would be interested in. Perhaps he could find out more about the ocean and Moon, so he could have a story to bring back to her? "Why is the ocean jealous of us?" Hazepaw questioned.

Sandybreeze let out a small purr. "Its more jealous of the partnership between the Sun and Moon than us. But because cats are a byproduct of that alliance, the ocean tends to hold resentment towards us as well."

"Can you tell me more? About the ocean and Moon?" Hazepaw's voice was hopeful. Tonight he planned to bring the story back Moonpaw, if he could.

"That's an elder's job. If you want to hear tales of ancient spirits, ask some of them later." Hazepaw was disappointed by Sandybreeze's response. He thought by the way she was explaining things, that she would be more interested in sharing her knowledge of ancient drama. But Sandybreeze was nothing if not a serious cat. Though she believed the stories told to her in youth, she wasn't the sort to waste time discussing useless information. She'd rather teach Hazepaw the truly important lessons of life. And though Hazepaw was grateful for his mentor's teachings, he did wish she could be a little more relaxed on some occasions. Still, there was no use getting his pelt ruffled now, over her not indulging him with some tale of whimsy. The patrol moved on from the shadowy area of the ocean, to a part of the beach where the waves acted more typically. Here the water was bright and blue. If they drew close enough, they may even be able to see to the bottom through the froth.

"You 'Paws go and fish over that way. The three of us will be fishing in the less rocky parts of the shore," Troutwhisker instructed expertly, gesturing with her smokey tail.

"How come we can't go swimming with you?" Hazepaw complained.

"Because you aren't strong enough yet to withstand the waves. You'll practice when Greenleaf comes. For now, work of perfecting your form," Sandybreeze responded, nodding her head to her companions to lead them away. Hazepaw growled, lashing his tail in frustration. He was sure he was strong enough to fish with the warriors! As he moved to follow after them, pain suddenly rippled through his muscles. Hazepaw cursed under his breath. Between cleaning up the temporary camp, the journey back home, and training with Sea Breeze in dreams last night, Hazepaw's body had grown a bit achey and sore. The walk to the beach hadn't helped his muscles much either. If he hadn't been pushing himself so hard, he'd be strong enough now to prove his mentor wrong. Instead, he conceded to his own limits and followed Otterpaw, Whisperpaw, and Urchinpaw over to the rocks. The waves crashed rhythmically against them, spraying the boulders with the momentum. The water was at the perfect level, deep enough to be inviting to fish, but low enough that it would not consume the rocks with each rolling wave. Hazepaw was the first to climb onto one of the slippery stones, beckoning his companions with a swish of his tail. Otterpaw jumped to join Hazepaw on his rock. While Urchinpaw settled on one of his own closeby. Whisperpaw perched on a stone between them. In the ocean surrounding the rocks, little fish swam with the current; weaving in and out of crevices, in-between seaweed and other little plants. They had no idea that they were being hunted. The conditions were perfect for a successful catch. Otterpaw was the first to give it a try, her paw raised and poised for an attack. Hazepaw observed her with delayed breath as the brown molly's lightning fast reflexes led to her successful strike. A pretty silver fish flopped on the stone between them, it's mouth gaped and shut as it tried to take breath from the air. Hazepaw grabbed it by its gills and bit hard, tasting it's delicious juices gush over his tongue. He had to resist the urge to bite down harder, realizing now he hadn't eaten before they went out today. As he sat up with a lick of his lips, the fluffy white tom wished he could take this fish as his own. But on a hunting patrol, warriors were not permitted to eat. So he slid the now deceased creature aside, taking his turn to make a catch. Hazepaw watched the water carefully, narrowing his eyes to focus on the scaly critters below. As another paddled closer to the rock, Hazepaw struck out, hooking the fish and pulling it to the surface. This time Otterpaw made the killing blow, thanking Starclan quietly for the prey before casting a paw out again. The two apprentices took turns like this for a while, successfully snagging quite a few fish between them by the time Hazepaw turned to check on Urchinpaw. The wiry black tom appeared to be struggling. Though his pelt was moist and his fishing paw soggy, not a single fish was set beside him on his rock. His face was twisted in frustration as he glared down at the water, before he once again tried to scoop something. This time he managed to pull up a fish, but he fumbled as the creature flopped for it's life. It managed to flip out of Urchinpaw's paws in the air, hurtling back down to the water. Urchinpaw scrambled to grab it, before it inevitably escaped back into the deep blue depts. With a splash, Hazepaw watched as the fish disappeared beneath the current. Urchinpaw cursed to himself and thrashed his tail, muttering something about giving up already. Whisperpaw giggled at his attempt. Hazepaw and Otterpaw exchanged a look. Then he stood, leaping onto the stone beside Urchinpaw.

"Let me show you how it's done," Hazepaw offered, shaping his paw like a hook with claws extended. He flicked an ear, urging Urchinpaw to copy. Urchinpaw did as instructed, mimicking his friend's moves. "I saw you leaning while you hunted. The fish will get spooked by your shadow if you do that. Even if they just see your fur, it'll startle them," Hazepaw explained.

"I saw you do it, though," Urchinpaw growled.

"That's 'cause fish are too stupid to differentiate objects from their colors. They see white and think clouds. Black, however? Means predator." Urchinpaw let out a chirp of understanding and nodded.

"Kinkfoot taught me darker colored cats have to be more strategic. Instead of striking the closest fish to your rock, you have to judge which fish will swim into your range," Otterpaw chimed in. She motioned for Hazepaw to switch places with her, then jumped to Urchinpaw's side. "Watch me." Otterpaw demonstrated what she had spoken of, stalking a rather large blue-ish colored fish as it swam into her reach. Carefully Otterpaw eyed the creature until she determined it was close enough to scoop. With an expert paw, Otterpaw pulled the fish out of the sea, leaving it beside Urchinpaw to kill. The wiry black tom gladly nipped it, then sat upright to try the technique for himself. It took two more tries before he was successful. But after finally getting a fish of his own, Urchinpaw seemed to find his groove. The four apprentices together managed to catch a sizable pile of ocean prey. Otterpaw had caught the biggest; the blue-ish one from her demonstration. Though Whisperpaw had surprised them all with the bonefish she'd snagged. Their fishing patrol would surely be pleased to see how successful they'd all been. Though their next challenge was figuring out how to carry all their fish to the warriors.

"I saw some Twoleg netting float past not long ago," Urchinpaw mentioned, running off to track it down. Hazepaw, Whisperpaw, and Otterpaw followed.

"Oh sweet," Hazepaw mewed.

"Well done!" Otterpaw commended once the oddly weaved vines had been found. The net was partially washed on the sand, making it easier for them to grab. Hazepaw stepped into the water to untangle the rest from the rocks, dipping his muzzle under the ocean's surface. As he did so, he felt a searing pain on his nose and shot up with a screech. A crab had clamped down on him with it's claw. Otterpaw and Urchinpaw laughed as he struggled for freedom, while Whisperpaw watched on with concern. Though the cackles of the others were infectious enough to have her stifling some giggles of her own. Hazepaw pawed at the brownish-red crustacean, trying to force it to release it's grip. Instead the crab pinched harder. Hazepaw laid down and shook his head, trying to pull it off himself with both paws. As he yanked, a rock fell suddenly on the creature; once, then twice, cracking open it's shell and killing it. Hazepaw looked up. Whisperpaw was holding the rock between her paws, glaring down at the crab to ensure it was dead. Hazepaw sat up.

"Uh, thanks," he mumbled.

"Don't mention it," was all that the gray tabby said in response, turning away to drag the net and crab back to their prey with Urchinpaw. Otterpaw came over to Hazepaw to lick the pain away from his nose. She purred, too, as if trying to soothe him. Heat instantly rose in Hazepaw's pelt from the gesture. It was sweet; almost too sweet for someone like Otterpaw. Moonpaw was more likely to show him such a kindness, especially after they'd spend some time apart. Maybe that was how Otterpaw felt too. Since she hadn't been speaking with Hazepaw for nearly a half moon, perhaps she felt a need to make up for it; by showing she still cared. Or maybe she was making up for the curtness of Whisperpaw. Still, Hazepaw wasn't going to question her actions, even if they did confuse him a little. This is... nice, Hazepaw thought. Then after a few moments he jerked away, too flustered to handle anymore.

"Feel better?" Otterpaw tilted her head. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and Hazepaw thought he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Ye..yeah," he murmured. Then he turned with a rush, motioning for Otterpaw to follow back to the rocks. The warriors were waiting for them upon their return. They were already singing the praises of Whisperpaw as she showed off the crab she'd killed, and the net Urchinpaw found. Sandybreeze approached Hazepaw, commending him on his efforts.

"I can smell which of the fish you caught. You've learned well, it seems," she praised. "And that also goes for you three," she added then whisked her tail. "Though, Urchinpaw, I will have to speak with Silverdrop about giving you another lesson or two." Urchinpaw lowered his head respectfully, grumbling in frustration under his breath. Hazepaw nudged him with a shoulder to warn him to be quiet. Otterpaw moved to touch noses with her aunt then sat beside Whisperpaw who was putting fish into the net.

"We best be heading home, before the sun starts to make the fish rot," Troutwhisker grunted. Seaweedfang nodded in agreement, helping load prey into the net.

On the trek back to camp, Hazepaw reflected on the day. Pride puffed his his chest from a job well done. His stomach growled as he anticipated the tasty meal he'd get to enjoy at home soon. And his mind began to wander to the fun he had with his friends. A longing soon grew in his chest; a familiar feeling he gained only when he missed Moonpaw. Hazepaw wished she could have been there with him, fishing and laughing along with his denmates. Would she have soothed him after the crab attacked him, like Otterpaw had? Or killed the stupid thing, like Whisperpaw? Hazepaw bet today would have been even more enjoyable if he'd gotten to spend it with her. He'd begun to feel this way a lot, whenever he'd spend a couple of days away from her. And now, with the entirety of Oceanclan's territory between them, Hazepaw wished even more that they were in the same clan. It was in that moment he suddenly decided; I need to see Moonpaw again.

[sunfloralchaos]

Once I'm done with ongoing things I'll probably take a serious break from shit,,, not feeling worth it at the moment

[daftysaph]

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