#i'm just trying to explain there are no hard feelings here

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[lavenders388]

Hey! i was wondering if you can write a fluff story of kang dae ho x reader in the games! just about him being protective and stuff if you know what i mean!

~When the Sun Hits~

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚ Kang Dae Ho x Reader

requested 💌

wc: 709 (short n sweet!)

a/n thank you so much for all the love and all the requests!! I'm getting my nails done soon LOL they're so grown out its hard to write so after that ill be more active!!! ily all<3 -matcha

comfort was hard to come by in this place of death, desperation, and shock, let alone the safety and security you craved. you felt much safer than you did the first game, compared to being alone and confused you now were part of a team, another member claiming to have gone through the games and offering help.

all of the members of your group had such unique personalities, gi hun being the one that originally caught your attention with his assistance in the first game; geum ja and her son's loving arguments providing a sense of sweetness and even occasional entertainment; jung bae's jokes providing humanity in the dark place you've all found yourselves trying to survive in. but no one caught your attention nearly as much as the man closest to your age, dae ho.

dae ho's respectful admiration of gi hun and then jung bae made you smile to yourself. "how could someone be so bubbly after what just happened here?" you wondered to yourself, the situation in front of you becoming more contrasting to the place it was happening in. you giggled to yourself as he shouted "SIR!" at jung bae for the fourth time in a row.

you didnt notice how it made him smile.

your focus shifted as gi hun began explaining the next game. the reality of going through the childhood game-themed blood bath sinking in. you listened intently as he explained what shape to pick. you began to feel less anxious, you knew what to expect and how to survive in the next game; and you weren't doing it alone, you had your team this time.

the thought of that made your demeanor soften. shifting from the feared facial expression to one of relief and appreciation. jung bae notices, asking you kindly "how are you holding up with all of this?" you respond with a smile, appreciating his care "better. I'm glad i found people and even more glad i have an idea of what I'm going into this time."

dae ho smiles again. this time you notice.

"are you feeling better as well? you should be, i mean you're the one who asked him." you said genuinely. he stutters; not expecting you to strike up a conversation with him and a bit embarrassed you noticed him smiling to himself. "i am!" he beams, "I'm also glad to have found a group, thank you for asking." your smile deepens, more than you had wanted it to. "thank you! what did you say your name was again?" you ask; knowing he had told jung bae his name earlier. "dae ho!" he exclaims adorably. "what is yours if you're comfortable sharing?" he asks respectful of the fact you may not want to share personal information at a death game. "y/n!" you say to him with a smile.

this time everyone notices how it makes you smile. jung bae chuckles as he gives gi hun a suggestive look.

"lights out is in 30 minutes." the recorded voice echos throughout the room. your fear returns as gi hun warns that things might get violent as the night progresses. your worry begins to show on your face as you look around, trying to remember where your bed was. the group, especially dae ho notices, and they all agree to let you stay near them for the night.

a silence falls on the group as the players all begin to settle in for the night. you turn around, noticing that dae ho moved from his bunk behind you to a new bed in front of you. you pretend not to notice, afraid you might smile or blush in an obvious way. you deeply appreciated the secure feeling being around this tall, handsome, almost stranger gave you.

he didnt feel like a stranger, you reminded yourself you just knew his name and that he was in the marines. you wanted to learn more; as you went to bed with the comforting stranger in front of you, protecting you from whatever lurked in the darkness, you hoped not just for your survival in the next game, but for your whole group to make it out.

you knew he would protect you against whatever was to come the next day.

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚

[popculturealchemy]

giant masses

black spears

.

climbed your everest

sherpa, my brain

sherpa, hiding red flags

sherpa, casting shadow on your flaws

highlighting your strength

.

uncanny valley.

you think you're deep

mariana trench vibes coming from your end

Interesting at first

submarines sinking

you sinking them

shallowness,

I was unprepared for the kiddie pool of your truth

.

this shouldn't feel like myst

a complicated turn based point and click wtf nightmare game.

puzzles without answers

you're just fucking vague.

not the same

no solutions; = solution

.

rather be like nintendogs

rubbing my sylus on your bottom screen

doggy style multiplayer coop mission

finding that back and forth frequency we need

.

can't find you now

not sure sure if you had one

someone else got it.

new orbit or something

.

shedding you like leaves

hurting at first

nourishing my roots

creating ecology at my feet.

belonging to the streets

putting things where they go when they go there

.

.

someothing about you died

and you never told me

.

you felt it change

I'm noticing

I'm waiting

el niño

hurricane on the east coast of your phase

waxing and waning

.

no explanation

feeling dark, distance. erasure.

your face is stuck in my vision

.

no explaination needed,

your face is terrifying though

thought I'd give you a warning

.

dropped like a hot stone

falling like a leaf

.

time healing wound of separation

no one at fault

just hurting, foggy

discrete depression all day now

till this things fades

.

oh yeah. that persons not here no more

.

they are but, just different or something

black spear

red rover sent right over

hot girl summer

hot girl stone

warming my bed, thank you

leaves feeling cold now.

.

didn't break my chain.

you found my weak links

actually, I told you

you pulled on them right away

Information used on me

supposed to be used to protect me

complete. utter. lack. of. partnership. skills.

seeing an opening and taking it

full force

my weak weakspot becomes a fulcrum

a toggle switch

trigger my seizures

howd you get in here weirdo

you did this to your grandma too.

i'm so glad you accidentally told me that

feeling protected and hurt by luck

four leaf clover

knowing how to use it

.

not sure what else to say

bon voyage

no hard feelings but feeling only hard feelings

.

focusing on something else now

blurry feeling.

snuffed by the spear

.

feeling like a good year thats mine today

leaves falling

spears forming

nests revealed

needing exploring

.

new changes for new nests

less pesky birds

birds that don't peck

.

ctrl alt del this feeling

rebooting

trying off and on again.

living in the present..

eventually getting there

a lifelong test

.

one moment eclipsing the rest

break up

light shining behind this black prism

waiting to crest

already cresting

glass 1% full today

.

get back together?

.

surely, you jest.

.

I don't want to friends.

Neither did you.

It was supposed us

weird labels

archaic words

wanting to feel special

feeling reductive

reductive popculture moment in your mind.

doing "the thing."

.

enemies feels too personal.

memory halflife

redflags in view now

unraveling.

like a bathbomb fractal galaxy bath

poising the well

my water

black spear to your memory

you're poisoning me know

you're think you're smart because your friends smile while you're talking

dollar store connection

Impetus/ response

.

and now your falling from my memory

.

letting you fall gracefully is my gift to you

and it keeps on giving

enjoy the worms

fly high

.

focusing on my 1% water and black spear

old farmer painting

feeling rugged and dragged around by horses

.

cruel tricks

.

black spear not cruelty

.

third party I need for protection

people like you exist

I know that know

.

Ted talk running late

pixel's remembering my thoughts

you're a leaf now

I'm a tree

[kiyomitakada]

I think Misa was suicidal since her parents’ death if not longer. I wonder if she regretted not letting her stalker kill her in the brief moment before Gelus’ Death Note fell from the sky and gave her a reason to keep living. I wonder if she killed herself over Light, not because he meant so much to her, but because he had been the only reason she hadn’t done it years ago. I think she needed an obsessive, unattainable goal to justify staying alive. Seeing her parents avenged. Meeting Kira. Marrying Light. I wonder if Light hadn’t died, would she have been able to find another reason to go on living? Or would she have felt she had nowhere to go from there, that no goal was big enough anymore? Misa had hundreds of years to live, a gift from the sacrifices of two gods of death, but I think the only thing keeping her alive for so long was her desperate escalating search for a reason not to end it herself

oh absolutely!!! absolutely!!!!! suicidal misa amane is one of my most solid death note opinions and it genuinely surprised me when i first came on here and didn't see anyone talking about it. i mean it's basically canon isn't it. "kill me now while i'm still young and pretty," "i was supposed to die that day anyway," everything she does just to find light, all the risks she takes in yotsuba including getting in a car with the person she knows is a creep AND a serial killer, "i would gladly die for you"… it speaks so much to me, that desperation to find something worthwhile to die for, which happens to also be something worthwhile to live for. i think suicidality and longing to live are two sides of the same knife and misa is trying so fucking hard to balance on its edge.

I wonder if she regretted not letting her stalker kill her in the brief moment before Gelus’ Death Note fell from the sky and gave her a reason to keep living.

it's actually kind of worse! in the manga at least (haven't seen the anime) all she does is stumble back, she doesn't run — probably a stress freeze response — and gelus kills the stalker but his notebook falls in the shinigami realm, so as far as misa knows her stalker just fucking died right there. this is after kira kills her parents (something i messed up in my fic but it's too late to fix lmao) so i wonder if she saw it as like… this force in the sky that wanted her to live. someone out there who loved her so much he would do anything for her. i wonder how that interfaced with her mental health and how reckless she is all the time.

and then rem carries the notebook down to misa on purpose (she apologizes to misa for giving her the notebook when misa's in prison). so now misa knows that actually it was two separate people who saved her emotionally (light) vs physically (gelus). i feel like this is probably part of why she goes ._. when rem explains the whole gelus thing to her; she wanted it to be kira who saved her. but oh well! now she has the notebook she can help kira, and isn't that even better! completely agree that was her whole reason to keep going. yes.

I wonder if Light hadn’t died, would she have been able to find another reason to go on living? Or would she have felt she had nowhere to go from there, that no goal was big enough anymore?

god i wonder the same thing all the time. what else? the coolest marriage ceremony ever? (they get engaged but never married…) kids? grandkids? some kind of summit in her career? everything hollower and hollower until she implodes in on herself?

[thezombieprostitute]

Dr. Hot Stuff

Summary: You're probably the only nurse who hasn't slept with Surgeon Johnny Storm and you're happy to keep it that way.

Warnings: Age gap, Implied smut, Medical setting, Talk about surgeries. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Many thanks to @bigtreefest for help with the medical terminology and more!

A/N2: Reader is 35+ years old and female. No other physical descriptors used.

You feel like a zombie, asleep on your feet after an incredibly long surgery. As much as you liked being Dr. Beck's go-to nurse for long and complicated surgeries, it still took a hell of a toll on you. As soon as you were cleaned up and in fresh scrubs, you were headed to the sleeping area.

When the doorknob doesn't turn you blink as your brain tries to process why you're not already laying down. You try a few more times but nothing. Is it stuck? It's not supposed to be locked.

Then the sounds of giggles and moans pierce through your brain fog and you put the pieces together. Dr. Johnny Storm, aka Dr. Hot Stuff, doing his regular, pre-surgery "ritual" with one of the nurses. You roll your eyes and shake your head. You should break down the door just out of fully justified spite! But you know you won't get much support. Apparently Dr. Hot Stuff earned his nickname. If there's one thing you'll give Storm, it's that his partners have no complaints, and they are the type to complain.

You slink off to the break room to find a recliner for a nap.

You're startled awake by Johnny loudly celebrating his latest successful surgery. He's proudly proclaiming his mastery over the appendectomy to anyone and everyone who will hear. You roll your eyes and start getting out of the recliner. You should be used to these kinds of things by now. Young surgeons are always so loud and proud.

Before you can get out of the recliner, though, Johnny steps in front of you.

"If it isn't my favorite veteran nurse," he smirks.

"What do you want, Dr. Storm," you sigh.

"You know you can call me Johnny, like all the other nurses, right?" he raises an eyebrow, grin never dropping. "I'm just trying to be friendly but you keep shutting me out."

"I just woke up, Johnny. And I'm still very tired. I'd be friendlier if I could've actually slept in a bed." You give him your best glare, hoping it would get him to back off, maybe apologize.

Instead his smile widens, "oh, sorry about that. Next time I'll make sure you get to join in." He winks and you scoff.

"I'm out of here," you shake your head. "I've gotta get back to work."

"Wait, please, I wanna talk to you!"

"About what?"

His facial expression changes into puppy dog eyes that your certain would work on a younger you. "Can you put in a good word for me with Dr. Beck?"

Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion. "What?"

"I'm doing so damn well with these appendectomies and cholecystectomies that I could do them in my sleep," he explains. "I want to get into doing the interesting surgeries, the ones that'll help my career, you know?"

"You haven't mastered the mundane yet," you tell him and he rolls his eyes while giving you a groan. "It's incredibly important for surgeons, especially new ones like yourself, to get experience with the variety that can come from even a simple procedure."

"What variety?" he protests. "It's all the same procedure. The same hand motions. The same instructions."

“You’re about to sever the common bile duct but your view is partially blocked by a section of hard adipose tissue. What do you do?”

"Predict where the duct continues under the fat tissue and make the incision,” he shrugs as if it should be obvious.

“WRONG," you loudly scold. "You just nicked the hepatic artery. Your patient is bleeding out.”

He starts pouting but you continue to grill him. You can tell he's studied but he's just too inexperienced and he continually falls short. Given how red he's getting, you can tell he knows it as well. When you finally let up on the questions he backs up so you can get out of the recliner but he's definitely not happy.

"Bet you'd put in a good word for me if you helped me with my pre-surgery ritual," he grouses.

"Not gonna happen, Junior."

"You sure?" he raises an eyebrow in that way you know works on the younger nurses. "I bet I could make you feel young again."

"I'm sure. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna get back to work."

"I'll get you to change your mind one of these days," he promises with a wink.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Ooo! Giving me permission to think of you next time I can't sleep?"

You facepalm. "I walked right into that one."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 3>

word count: 2k

Nervous is an understatement for my state of feeling right now.

Today is my first segment and in this segment I have to announce that I am the temporary wise woman for Roman Reigns.

Also I have a task from uncle. I have to persuade Nick Aldis - the general manager of Smackdown to cancel the fatal 4-way match since it's just unfair.

These past few days I met Jimmy, Jey and Solo. Very respectful men by the way. Uncle wasn't lying.

I have also been making friends with the women roster cause I do need female friends here. I can't only hang out with the Bloodline, right?

"Don't worry, girl. You got this!" Samantha tried to hype me up. She is the ring announcer and honestly we became close really fastly. In a few days, we know all about the life stories of one another. "I can't even wait to announce you. Ladies and gentlemen, accompanied to the ring by his special council, the wise woman - Sophia Heyman...oh my god" she started clapping excitingly and this made me grin from ear to ear.

"It sounds so good. You are so talented" I exclaimed. She is really, really good.

"Good luck to your fiancée, by the way" I wished her.

"Thank you so much" she smiled nervously.

"It must be nerve-wracking to have a partner wrestler, right?" I asked out of nowhere.

"Indeed. You are always worried about their health cause anything can happen in that ring and yeah..." she explained. "I just pray every day for him and for my colleagues, of course"

"Understandable" I nodded my head.

"Speaking of..." she looked around us and got closer to me. "What do you think about him?" I got puzzled for a moment.

"Ricochet? Well, I haven't really spoken to him but he seems like a nice guy" I replied.

"Not my fiancée...about Roman" she looked around again and whispered his name.

"Is he like Voldemort, why you so scared of saying his name? Well, he seems okay for now. Honestly, better than I expected but I had no expectations so." I shrugged.

"I think he likes you." she just spat out but this time she wasn't very quiet.

"What? Samantha...are you in your delulu moment?" I furrowed my eyebrows because she just said that so out of nowhere.

"Girl, literally look at you. That's what I'm gonna say. You are the woman that haunts men's dreams, no matter if they are single or taken." Samantha clarified.

"Come on." I rolled my eyes. Would lie if I said I didn't get this before.

"He is divorced by the way but you haven't heard this from me" Samantha switched to whispering again.

"What? I mean...how do you know? I mean, yeah whatever, I guess. Uncle is divorced as well." I shrugged. What did I just do? Now it will seem like I'm happy because of that fact.

"You don't get my point. What I'm trying to tell you is that you should be careful if you don't wanna end up being caught in his vice grip" Sam giggled cause she knows I got the reference very well. However, I was totally unfazed because I don't see myself with a man like him.

"Ha-ha, so funny, Samantha, ha-ha. Don't you worry about me. I have learned my lesson with you know who, so if somebody wants to impress me now, it's gonna be very, very hard." I solidified my intentions. Robert really gave me close to nothing and I was blinded just because he was cute.

"What are you two girls talking about so passionately?" I suddenly heard Roman's deep voice behind me and it startled me so much that I jumped a little. "Woah, calm down, wise woman. Am I a ghost?" he was exactly behind me and I looked up to him since he is like more than 7 inches taller than me. Roman had his eyes down my direction and a big grin on his face. "Tell me what are you two gossiping about. Tell me the drama."

"The discussions me and Samantha were having, Mr. Reigns, are strictly confidential, so I am not telling you. You ain't one of the girls." I sassed him out and he let out a deep chuckle.

"But you are my wise woman. You should tell me everything. No secrets between us." he suddenly tried to act offended.

"This statement, Mr. Reigns, is disputed. There is nowhere in the contract that signifies I should tell you everything about my life and vice versa." I immediately opposed to him.

"Always disagreeing with me" he looked at Samantha with the look of complaint. "Have you ever seen the Wise Man disagreeing with me, Samantha?"

"No, at least not here." she replied.

"Okay but I'm not uncle. Also the agreements are only for the camera. Behind camera, I'm not obligated to." I turned to him and shrugged.

Roman chuckled once again.

"Miss Heyman, I honestly find your attitude so cute. You think you are 'biting' like a snake but honestly, I'm having fun."

"Oh, you think that this is my bad side, Mr. Reigns? I have to apologize then. You are mistaken" I fought back.

"No, I didn't say that this is your bad side. Anyway, we have to start preparing for later, so the gossip session has to end soon, okay?" he suddenly turned all serious. This man's duality is insane. He can throw some random jokes one second and the other second, he turns into a serious man. Is he a Gemini or something?

"Coming after a while" I said and turned around to Samantha.

"I bet you will" I heard him saying under his nose and I turned to him again. When he saw that I heard him, he made that funny "oops" expression.

Until the very moment he got away, Samantha had a look of disbelief in her face.

"See what I'm talking about? Now I'm 100% sure. Soph, I have never...ever in my career seen Roman like this. He is so obvious, oh my god." she put her hand on her mouth.

"Is he a Gemini?" I asked out of nowhere. It's a tendency of mine since I remember myself.

"Uuh, I think so, yes."

"That explains a lot. And then people tell me astrology ain't real" I shook my head. "And how old is he?" I asked quietly.

"Let me think...uh, he is a bit older than Trevor. Two or three years something like this. In his late thirties for sure - 38, I believe." my friend suddenly started calculating. "This year he will be 39."

"What?" my jaw was on the floor. "Yeah, no chance. That's a...12 year difference, nuh-uh." I shook my head.

"But you thought about it" she started laughing and poked me.

"About what?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Anyway I have to go"

"Coming for him" Sam couldn't help but snore.

"Ha-ha so funny" I rolled my eyes.

...

"I'm here" I shouted after I got in the locker room. The whole Bloodline is there.

"Lil' OG." Jimmy came to greet me with a high-five.

"Lil' OG"? Solo seemed weirded out by the way Jimmy called me.

"Paul is OG. Sophia is his blood, therefore she is lil' OG." Jimmy explained himself and his brother just seemed done.

"She looks nothing like Paul."

"Nah, she has his eyes" Jimmy disagreed with him.

"Ah yes. The saphire blue eyes that I inherited from my late great-grandmother Patricia." I stated.

"You may not look like Paul but for sure sound like him" Jimmy concluded. "So are you ready for later?"

"Mentally kinda, physically absolutely not. I have to start dressing up and everything because after 10 minutes the makeup artist and the hairdresser will be waiting for me." I looked at my watch.

Then reached to the wardrobe to grab the outfit I planned for tonight. It is a two piece costume consisting a blouse like blazer with a deep cleavage but it also has a scarf that is going to wrap around my throat and also a long skirt with a long slit. The color is dark blue with thin light stripes exactly like my uncle's costumes. For shoes I chose beige lacquered high heels.

Where is Roman? He was so insisting for me to come here and now he is nowhere to be found.

"Paul Heyman : female version" Jimmy said in a narrative tone which made me chuckle.

"I don't think the crowd is going to notice the difference" I shrugged.

"Oh, they definitely will, trust me" Solo said seriously.

I suddenly heard steps. I turned on my right and oh my God, I shouldn't have.

The view before me is just...wow.

Roman fresh out of the shower with his wet, long hair, his big ass tribal tattoo and a white towel wrapped around his torso. Water drips falling onto his body like tears.

"Ah, you're here, Sophia." he said that as if he totally expected me and as if everything is on purpose.

"Yeah." I turned around and faced his cousins because if I stare for longer, I will boost up his ego. Damn, that man is jacked.

"So is the bathroom free? I have to dress quickly." I asked a rhetorical question but I tried to go as quickly as possible, so I don't look at him in any way. I went through like a flash honestly.

"Do you need help?" I heard him yelling at me.

"No?" that was so random of him.

"You said you have to dress up quick and you know two works better than one" he replied and that response caused me to open the bathroom door and he was still sitting there.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Reigns but I have to decline this offer." after I finished, I slammed the door.

Is he out of his mind? Asking me this right in front of his cousins? Unbelievable.

Roman's POV:

I chuckled at Sophia once again. Damn, I know this woman for a few days yet she got under my skin. The way she looks, the way she talks, the way she walks. I feel betrayed by Paul, to be completely honest. How could he never tell me he has such a pretty niece?

"Uce...what the fuck?" Solo whisper yelled.

"What?" the grin on my face still stayed.

"Bro...you are hitting on Paul's niece" Jimmy called me out.

"Nah, I'm not. We are just joking" I immediately debunked Jimmy's statement and went to the wardrobe to search for my stuff.

"You don't joke like this...ever. Come to your senses, uce. She is way younger than you. How old is she?" Jon asked with a concern.

"I don't know. Probably 25-26." the looks the siblings exchanged between each other were full of shock as if I said she is a minor...come on.

"She is younger than me?" Solo seemed caught off guard.

"That divorce is blinding you." Jimmy started lecturing me. "You see a pretty woman and suddenly you want to sleep with her".

"I don't wanna sleep with her, you perverts. I just like her company, okay? Stop lecturing me." I tried not to yell at them because I don't want Sophia to hear me.

"Uce, you can't fool us. Look at her. A living Barbie doll. Get yourself together immediately." Solo whisper yelled but we all shut up immediately when we heard the door open.

"So how do I look?" Sophia asked, standing in front of me with that business ass little outfit and heels and so much unholy thoughts going in my head of how I bend her over and pull that skirt up and then...

Joseph, you should stop before somebody rises underneath and completely embarass yourself.

That woman is my dream personified and I don't care what my cousins think. I'm going to have her one way or another.

"Amazing" I cleared my throat. "Spectacular" I cleared my throat again, trying not to stare too much at her.

"Great" Jimmy and Solo threw her big grins and thumbs up.

"Thank you so much, now I'm leaving you guys. Bye. See ya later." she ran to the door and left the room.

"Holy shit" I sat on the couch. "I may be in trouble" I finally confessed.

"Took you long enough." Solo said sarcastically.

[tentenismybitch]

ok team gai-centric tenten headcanons now:

(handwaving canon cus idk if they even still have anbu after the war lmao but) she wants to be an ANBU and specifically requests it when kakashi becomes hokage - since kakashi is her sensei’s husband best friend, she incorrectly believes that he will grant her request. it’s because of this that the opposite happens: he explicitly DENIES her repeated requests and when she eventually confronts him about it, he’s like: well. me and gai care about you too much for me to fuck you up like that. here is a genin team that would benefit from your tutelage instead :)

tenten was neji's first real friend. but also. he used to piss her off BAD with all his fate and destiny talk, and for being an uptight clan-kid. she definitely used to pick fights with him in their academy days. he often won, but she discovered his blindspot because one time he turns his back on her and she throws a rock at him and it actually hits him. she's like "oh word? 👀 that vision's not quite 360 is it HYUGA?"

also. kinda pisses me off that neji is on a team with ROCK LEE and TENTEN, two of the canonically most pleasant, friendly and optimistic people in the konoha 11/12, and their sensei is fucking MAITO GAI, but it takes getting beat by naruto, some random jerkwad he just met, to change neji’s perspective on fate and make him less driven by his anger and hopelessness. i absolutely do not accept that, though i understand it had to happen because this is Naruto the Manga. IN MY MIND THO, naruto just echoes and drives home sentiments that neji’s LITERAL TEAM AND ONLY LOVED ONES have been drilling into him for the entire year that they have been on a team before he even met naruto, and also probably insisted on when they were still in the academy. bffr

RELATEDLY: sorry, but. for a while. tenten does not like hinata. she feels bad and guilty about it, but, well, two things. 1) (at least according to narutopedia) tenten allegedly hates weak people. based purely on what she hears from neji, she would probably categorize hinata as a weak person and 2) even if she didn’t, as neji’s literal only friend and someone who understands injustice, she would empathize with him and his hatred for the main house. in her child’s/teenage understanding of it all, she would find it perfectly reasonable that neji hates hinata, and in defense of her friend, would also not like her. she is never outright mean to hinata, because she’s not cruel! she just doesn’t try particularly hard to be her friend! hinata might not even notice it herself!! and she gets over it eventually!!

she also likes spicy food just not as spicy as gai and lee like it. her spice tolerance is like. she can eat buldak spicy ramen (original) but wouldn't touch 2x spicy, which gai and lee could eat regularly. neji cannot handle spicy food at all, bless his heart <3

this is going to be a hot take (its my headcanon tho so who cares) but. gai tries to teach them all how to open the gates. neji can't do it at all; tenten can only get as far as the 4th gate, the gate of pain

tenten is the first to kill someone and she is...not as upset about it as gai, lee, and neji thought she would be. in fact, her callousness about it scares gai a little bit and he has to give her a Talk about the Value of Human Life, even when it is an Enemy's Life.

also. see headcanon #1 on this list. when she requests to be anbu kakashi remembers this and is like "hm. this kid's got a latent bloodlust. maybe no anbu!"

because my kakagai goggles are always on: kakashi and gai try to be discreet about their relationship at first but tenten's very observant. whenever kakagai is acting a little too weird for her she's like "just make out already DAMN!"

speaking of kakashi, after naruto leaves, since tsunade has taken over sakura's training, he hangs out with team gai during their training sessions (that's their Stepdad ok)

ok. i'm disregarding the filler that explains how everyone became a chunin for this one:

after losing to temari so quickly and brutally, tenten OBSESSES over proving herself in this specific way. chunin exams are apparently held twice a year, so they register again–lee and neji are lowkey not ready after both getting major surgeries just a few months before, but they see how important it is to her so they register anyway and both end up getting knocked out in their final matches. that's right baby: tenten becomes a chunin first! lee and neji follow in the next exams six months later

speaking of disregarding canon: instead of gai holding them back a year, i hc that when it was time to register for the chunin exams when they were more newly a team, tenten opts not to register because she thinks they are not cohesive enough as a team (cus neji and lee are always getting into it.) neji and lee are very mad at her for this but she's actually right

[pirategauguin]

Teha'amana was the native wife of Paul Gauguin during his first visit to Tahiti in 1891 to 1893. It was common at that time for French colonists to take native wives; the wives simply referred to as vahine, Tahitian for "woman". These vahines were often underage children, as was the case with Teha'amana, their marriage being arranged by their family for reasons of status or financial advantage. The marriages were generally not legally binding. All three of Gauguin's vahines, the two he took after Teha'amana eventually returned home while Teha'amana herself declined to continue their relationship when Gauguin returned to Tahiti in 1895. Teha'amana undoubtedly saw herself as conventionally married according to her local customs, but for Gauguin the marriage was clearly a temporary arrangement. Nevertheless, he did profess a tender love for Teha'amana in his journal Noa Noa. Pierre Loti's Le Mariage de Loti, a book that influenced Gauguin's decision to travel to Tahiti, was an immensely popular account of such a marriage twenty years earlier, although in that case the marriage was actually a fictional composite of many casual liaisons indulged by Loti during a two-month visit to Papeete. In Loti's account his wife was fourteen years old, while in Gauguin's account Teha'amana was just thirteen years old.

These things are true. I want to make it clear that I do not condone these actions. However, this blog is not meant to refer to the real Gauguin. There is a degree of separation between the Gauguin from history and the fictional portrayal of Gauguin in the musical Starry. I do try to make this clear, as I have pinned a post discussing this to the top of this blog.

The difference between a real person from history and a character based off of that person is an important distinction to make. A character is not a real person, they are used as tools in a story and this may involve exaggerating certain elements of their historical counterpart and eliminating others, or for the sake of the plot, it may make more sense to put a character in a position the real person was never in. Beyond the plot, another reason these things may be done is to better convey a message that the writer(s) want to share. Applying this to Gauguin, if I remember correctly, the historical Gauguin never directly stated how he felt about how he had left the Yellow House. The Gauguin in Starry, however, has a line in the last song of the show that makes his view on this very clear: "I want to live again so I can stay." The character of Gauguin regrets his actions because that was what was right for the story the writers wanted to tell.

I do think this is an important discussion to have; the bad things historical people have done is something that should be talked about and recognized to be Not Good, but if these things are not relevant to the story being told, they should not be brought up as a reason to dislike the character. Not that a character doing bad things means that you're wrong to like them, but I could make a whole other post about that.

[piko-rose]

My Personal Headcanon On Why Amy's Love For Sonic Died Down Lately (and their dynamic)

When they were younger, Amy's love for Sonic was pretty extreme, and Sonic was, understandable, uncomfortable for the most part. He knows she means well, but that girl needs to calm down.

She can fight, but sometimes her hammer could only stun her enemies for a while. (It took her a long time to get rid of that robot that has been chasing her around Station Square.) She wasn't fully independent yet, even if she fought on her own a couple of times.

She often follows Sonic and his friends around. She is part of the team, but she was not a strong as she is now at the time yet.

She admires Sonic. A LOT. And Sonic knows that. Obviously, he could only run away from something like that, since he is NOT ready for that kind of thing, and whether Amy takes the hint or stop, she still loves him.

...BUT, I think things were slightly starting to change between her and Sonic after Lost World.

Remember this line?

You remember that? Okay, okay. Here's another totally unrelated question:

Before the events of Lost World, when was the last time Amy said "I love you" to Sonic out loud?

...YEP. 😈 (Unless I'm missing something, let me know lmao)

As more games and adventures come out, the characters get slightly older, and Amy is 12 to 13 now, and she is most certainly at that age where her body starts to change, but especially on how she views Sonic.

She knows she loves Sonic, but it was this moment during her change where she actually wanted to admit that she loves him.

I believe that Amy was all about sharing her affection to him not through confessions, but through obvious hints. Sonic totally got it, and there was no need to confess. Sonic knows she loves her.

...But she never said it. And she almost did, but she never did again for a while.

I think this was the moment in her life where, oh, God, she actually loves Sonic. SHE LOVES HIM, WHAT.

And she was looking back at all the times she had with Sonic that she can now see were unpleasant to Sonic (At least that's what she thinks) and that's probably why she isn't so expressive about her love to him than how she used to back then.

She wasn't sure what to do with this realization, and sets aside it for a while, and nearly stayed as her casual, peppy self... until the Eggman War happened.

During the 6 months of being with the Resistance, fighting Eggman's army all day and all night, all she can think of was Sonic.

She dreams that he still with not just her, but with her friends. She just wanted to see Sonic again, she just wants to be with her hero again.

But I'd like to think that she was also thinking about how she used to treat Sonic back when they were younger, how Sonic would almost always run away from her whenever she asks him out, or always look so uncomfortable whenever she gets so close to him.

Cringing at those memories big time, she wanted to change and hopefully when Sonic is okay and comes back, she can be better for him.

...Or will he still find her uncomfortable regardless? Would he even be happy to see her at all if he did survive?

But, hold on! She can't just give up her love for Sonic! He made her who she is today! A peppy, nature-loving, hammer-swinging, confident, brave... loud-mouth... annoying... Sonic obsessed... weak... pathetic... lonely little girl.

If she gives up on Sonic, it'll be like she gave up on the one hedgehog who saved her life. If she didn't she'll still be the same ol' Amy.

I also like to think she had parents a long while before she met Sonic, and was even expecting a little sister, but a robot invasion happened from where she was and attacked her parents and instead of trying to save them, after getting hurt, she ran away, hoping that they'll come back okay. But they never did.

She was all alone, and needed someone, a friend, a new family, someone who will hold her hand, anyone, to be there for her. But she was ignored by lots, and at that point, she's better off by herself, but still longed for company.

Eventually though, her tarot cards told her her future hero, and there might be hope after all. She encountered Sonic, held onto the belief of the cards tight, and the rest is history.

So, with that headcanon in mind, not only did Amy loose her parents that she didn't save because of her cowardliness (she was only so little at the time that happened) and also Sonic, who she thought will be her only hope, but now gone.

She doesn't even care if he did come back, he'd probably hate her now after everything she did to him, always talking about their "future wedding" or forcing him to go to Twinkle Park.

For the last few months of the war, it was nothing but Amy mentally beating herself up for either refusing to change or moving on, and they are both not fine choices.

She loves Sonic, but he does not love her, and she finally, finally realized it. And it's probably for the best if no body loved her at all.

But of course Sonic did survive and all of her worries wash away in an instant, she's just not expressive about her love for Sonic AT ALL now, since she's still worried about it but rather not mention it to Sonic because it doesn't matter.

If Sonic doesn't love her, then her feelings don't matter to him, and according to Amy herself, that is okay.

But also, I'd like to think that Sonic was thinking about his friends a lot up in the Death Egg for the past months, sometimes it's Tails (worried for his safety), sometimes it's Shadow (because he's wondering why he would join Eggman.) At some point, for a few days, Amy was in his mind the longest, and he felt bad about how he thought he was rude and pushy to her.

He wondered if she's not thinking about it too much, and if she is, will she give up on him? Yeah, he doesn't feel the same and still not looking for a relationship, but it's so strange but interesting how anyone could ever like someone like Sonic the Hedgehog. Amy was never afraid to show that, and she probably might be now.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. They were kids when she was like this, but he was so... arrogant at the time too. Not a lot happened at the time yet. He'd always have trouble expressing how much he value his friends, until he shattered the Paradox Prism. (I'd like to think Prime took place before Forces. It makes sense.)

She is such a sweet girl, and he probably made her believe that he didn't care for her. Just because he doesn't feel the same, that doesn't mean he hates her at all.

He wished he never ran away from Amy... Worrying for his little bro and wishing to be a good person for Amy was when Sonic cried in the Death Egg for the first and only time.

Frontiers, in my opinion, is kind of confirming their dynamic now. Sonic is a lot more sincere and kinder to Amy and she is not all hyperactive and lovey to Sonic. There is probably a real reason for this now.

They are both hiding their feelings from them, and they are both unaware of this. Amy, hiding her mental issues from Sonic, and Sonic, hiding his guilt away from Amy.

None of those things are important now. Sonic is with Amy and Amy is with Sonic. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

They don't care if they'll ever be something more when they get older. None of that matters anymore. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

Maybe someday they'll both talk about it, but for now, the present is important. They care about each other too much to think about it right now.

It's the kind of love that is unbreakable. It doesn't even have to be romantic. It's just love. Love is important for everyone, in any form. It's something Sonic and his friends need. And especially Sonic and Amy.

Amy Rose is the living embodiment of love, and without her, a lot would go downhill for Sonic and co. Heck, if it weren't for her, Shadow wouldn't have never remembered Maria's promise, which lead him to save the world with Sonic, before he temporarily disappeared from their lives for a while.

She is always there to lend a helping hand for anybody, even bad guys like Metal Sonic, and despite what she had been through, both in Forces and headcanon wise, she still fights back, even without her hammer.

She will pick you back up on your feet, reminding you that you are important and that you are loved, and that you should never give up. It's pretty much the words of encouragement she herself needed also...

She is still the happy, hyper, butt-kicking hedgehog we all know and love, but she still need someone to pick her back up on her feet after so long. Thankfully, she has her friends and her blue hero. The hero who made her who she is today.

I think Amy has no idea how important she thought she is, but Sonic does. Sonic knows fully well how important she is to a lot of people. It's about time he returns the favor to her. It's his turn to remind her how much a lot of people love her.

How much he loves her.

And I feel like The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog was the moment where their dynamic really shined, but also the starting point of their relationship not only healing, but also the next chapter of what's to come for them.

Everyone, friends old and new, gathered around for a special birthday. A birthday for the confident, unshakable, and radiant Amy Rose.

It was such a special moment in Amy's life. After years of chasing and following the people she look up to, she is part of the team, but most importantly, she is part of the family.

She is fully realized as someone more than just a fangirl, but someone strong, courageous, creative, kind and a big inspiration for others.

I feel like this moment here...

-is where Amy is eternally grateful to call her friends her family. A family she thought she'll never have again. She's not alone anymore, and as long as they're by her side, she'll never will be again.

Her chasing days are over. She's finally caught up to them. She's finally home.

And it's all thanks to Sonic.

If it weren't for him, she'd probably be alone forever. Her past moments with Sonic might be embarrassing to look back on for a while, but they are good memories regardless, because they involve him.

Sonic saved her life in more ways than one, and despite everything, he's grateful to have her too.

He cares about her. He really does... And in her eyes, that all she needed to know. As long as Sonic loves her in his own way, she'll be happy.

Amy hasn't given up on Sonic. As long as Amy always supports him, he'll be happy.

Maybe sometime in the future, they can talk about their problems, but that's a story for another time. At this point, they need to. Right now, they are happy. They are okay.

They are here for each other. They are finally better for each other now.

"You guys won't ever leave me, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[quietlyblooms]

alrighty, friends, i feel the need to be a little transparent because it's affecting things here. the short version of everything is: i'm not doing so hot in the mental health department. no one needs to be concerned -- i'm okay even if i'm having a hard time. but i just ask that everyone continues to be patient and understanding bc i promise that i'm excited to write and chat!! both new and old mutuals, i have so much admiration for you all!! the problem is that the discomfort and sensitivity i feel are making it increasingly difficult to be punctual and social.

so what does this mean? it means my activity may continue to be extra slow. i might procrastinate with messages or go completely silent. i might not log on some days just so i don't have to use my brain. but however my presence here fluctuates, i promise that in no way this is a reflection of my feelings towards you or our muses. i'm just going through it.

all that said, thank you for being here <3 thank you for filling my dash with things that make me smile, and thank you for being a space where i can relax. i care about all of you so much, and i encourage you to be kind to yourselves!! take breaks!! take your time!! your happiness and health matter first always.

[mrmathmanwr]

okay, tbf, tbf, i gotta defend my dudes here. Inuyasha not only went back to Kikyo due to an INSANE amount of guilt he felt for more or less (in his mind) CAUSING HER DEATH, and wanting to reconcile and console (hope thats the right spelling) her, but also because she was already dead, and he cared too much for Kagome to see her hurt. He wanted to help Kikyo get revenge, and she was already dead as well, so maybe if she died, she’d find solace instead. 

I RANTED SO HARD, PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Kikyo came back hating him, and as we saw in the flashback around chapter 47-ish iirc (one where he is telling the story of him and kikyo's relationship to Kaede) he probably would've felt horrible about this. When he offended Kikyo by saying "I'm not like you." He immediately followed it up by the line "Her face... It looked so utterly alone.... And for the first time in my life, I felt I had done something wrong." Now imagine this reaction, but instead of loneliness, it is sheer hatred. Wishing for nothing but to see you dead. This woman, your only solace in this world, the only person who doesn't see you as a monster, wishing for your death. Imagine that. 

now, going beyond that, he also wishes for this to never happen again to Kikyo, which I think is fair. The entirety of chapter 173 is dedicated to Inuyasha just saying “I don’t wanna see Kikyo have her life fucked over by Narkau again.” and his guilt is shown massively here too, or at very least it is in a line he says. “If he attacks you again… Who will protect you? I’m the only one you have!” He legit is saying “I would feel sole responsible if you died trying to kill Naraku.” He’s already failed her once, and he cannot STAND the thought of it happening twice.

That last part also loops back around to why he doesn’t want Kagome to be around while he’s still dealing with Kikyo, not only because he feels like shit for doing this to her, but also because, as Inuyasha said, he can’t afford her love. Not when love killed Kikyo. (GOD I FUCKING LOVE CHAPTER 176 AWORJAWIRJ) Literally, as he said, “I have to protect her, I have to give my life to Kikyo.” THEN, AS KAGOME HERSELF SAID TO IMMEDIATELY FOLLOW UP, “I know, I can’t compete against Kikyo. Because I’m… I’m still alive.” OMGOEJRAWIORJWAR. I say this with love, not malice, please, read chapter 176 of the manga. If you want, I can provide a link to it, but it alone I think perfectly encapsulates their relationship up to that point. (i am only on the early half of book 7, so I can’t say anything for beyond it.)

And I know you didn’t say this, but he always loved Kagome too. I feel like I really don’t need to explain, but there are SEVERAL occasions in the series where Inuyasha and Kagome only defeat the big bad evil trying to kill the because of their love for eachother. It could be argued that Inuyasha only killed the Thunder Brothers BECAUSE he loved Kagome, and seeing them die sent him into a blind rage, not to mention his reaction when he thought they died because of the thunder blast. The first time he unlocked his demon form was pretty much entirely because Kagome was about to be killed. I could go on but this rant is too fucking long and I am actively not eating tacos because of it.

LASTLY, just as a tiny footnote, I can’t entirely blame him for being salty over Koga. Koga tries to kill him and the gang, steals his girl (literally), puts her in IMMENSE DANGER (as stated previously, his biggest fear,) and then she seems flattered? Not to mention the other times he is constantly gawking over Kagome while FAILING TO PROTECT HER? All he sees him as is a danger to Kagome. still love my boy though, koga fucking rules.

And I am sorry if this whole rant seems angry, it’s not, my brain just wouldn’t let me not write this. Inuyasha’s guilt over Kikyo is something I find so fucking fascinating, and I couldn’t just let this fester and rot in my brain. It was like a tumor, pushing on my skull to get out. anyways i fucking love my dudes, and I hope this makes you love them a little bit more.

Kagome is so strong because I would lose my shit if I was nice to a guy and my crush were to start being jealous and angry and then he turns around and is still all over his former love.

[c6jpg]

i should have paid more attention to the first part of the little saurian world quest bc i am now fully invested

[cathymee]

maybe it's to maintain a sense of tension & turmoil that would eventually reach an explosive peak, a sense of tug-of-war, a back-and-forth to hammer home the ideals they want to deliver and for the viewers to chew on, but although these arguments regarding hiroshi & his stance as a man torn between his loyalty for his country & the loyalty for his Filipino friends and lover is of course important, how they write these scenes & the points they present from this week alone is getting too repetitive...? literally the argument scenes from last night & tonight between adelina & hiroshi is basically the same; the ideas were the same, the dynamics were the same: the aggressive, radical adelina, bristling rage and fear over the injustices she's seen thus far, and the cautious, inspiriting hiroshi, all hopefulness and reassurance one moment as a lover, defensiveness and sternness as a japanese soldier in another. this debate will be ever-present ofc, it is one of the series' biggest conflicts, but it is unfortunately so easy to tell when it is a.) being pulled up as a main topic to move the plot along / be a necessary conflict for character development/introspection / be the conflict to deliver the morals & messages the writers want to send to their viewers, or b.) when it is being pulled up only for the drama and filler to pass the time. like watching the characters sit down to argue for 10 minutes, do other things for the plot for 2 minutes, then sit down again to argue for the next 20 minutes. lol.

[baenxietydad]

@justkeepdancing-nemo

"If you sit around waiting until you feel ready, you're never going to be ready, and you'll be panicking three months before graduation 'Appa what do I do!?'" Mu-yeol didn't know how else to explain to him that it was already pretty late to start seriously thinking! "This isn't something you're ever ready for. You just have to start doing it."

Look, if Nemo needed to just focus on school while he's in school, if he can't handle school and researching at once, that's fine. If he had to graduate first and then spend time afterward planning what's next, fine. Then just say that!

Instead it was all 'it's too early, you're being ridiculous!' when he was the one thinking with his brain here!

"But like I said, I'm tired of trying to have adult conversations with you about this when you freak out or act like it's stupid every single time." He sighed. "Or worse, act like I'm forcing this whole situation on you. You wanted to go to uni and have a dance career, I didn't force any of those expectations onto you but you act like I did."

Frankly, he felt a insulted when Nemo did that. Who chose to go to uni? Nemo! All Mu-yeol did was promise he'd work hard to make it happen if Nemo chose that path. He didn't care if he chose it or not, just that he didn't feel like he couldn't do it if he wanted it.

It was one thing Mu-yeol prided himself on doing right as a parent. Nemo could have any role in the Hollow, any human job, and he'd be proud as long as Nemo was happy. He meant that. Hopefully Nemo knew it.

지금 바로 Jigeum Baro!? || The Baes

[thediktatortot]

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[mars-ipan]

this is gonna sound incredibly virtue signal-y i fear but i have been feeling. so fiercely protective of all the transfems i've ever met lately