#is this called self destruction or

[thedaythatwas]

something I appreciate about akechi as a character is that he never seems to think hmm, maybe I should emotionally distance myself from joker, because being invested in him could end up being bad for me when I need to kill him. the vengeance-oriented character goro is made out to be at first glance ought to think like this, but NO! goro akechi is NOT (just) that guy!

from the beginning, akechi goes above and beyond the minimum requirements of getting intel on joker and gaining his trust. he says, I’ll go the extra mile! I’m going to follow him around, inside and outside the metaverse. we’re going to talk about my dead mom. I’m going to insist that we’re RIVALS! I’ll spend so long thinking about all the reasons I hate him that it’ll become obvious to everyone around me— even joker’s (not a) cat— that what I feel isn’t really hate but something much more complex. obviously, this will make killing him that much more gratifying, because our lives are now intertwined! HA! take that joker! I WIN!

I believe this… interesting… thought process has something to do with akechi’s central motivation being more than just a desire for vengeance. he also desperately craves approval and recognition. akechi is not actually all that pragmatic. he’s highly driven by emotion, sometimes at the cost of logic (I mean… his revenge plot isn’t all that mature or well-thought through. it’s basically suicidal).

this considered, it seems that becoming akiren’s rival would be second nature to goro. it gives him a veritable cornucopia of things he craves. winning their “game” allows him to feel recognized for his worth. just playing it gives him opportunities to feel seen and known. being a rival is addictive. he gets the chance to embrace the anger he cultivates towards akiren and the rush of putting him at the center of his thoughts. their rivalry is by far the most intimate relationship akechi has. and so, he gets more and more tangled up with joker— and in his feelings about joker— regardless of any risk that poses to his plans. distancing himself would go against goro’s every instinct.

being akiren’s rival is tied to akechi’s vengeance, but somewhere along the line, “besting joker” evolves to be about more than plotting against shido. this is probably for similar reasons as to why akechi’s desire for vengeance against his father was never purely about “vengeance” at all.

of course, this comes with the pesky, entirely predictable side effect of akechi getting a bit obsessed. oh well! it doesn’t end up stopping him from trying to carry out his order to kill akiren.

regardless of how events actually unfold, akechi’s feelings are a clean-cut liability to his revenge plot. a rational character would probably want to avoid such an obvious crack in his armor. this to say, as intelligent as akechi is, he’s not really all that rational. there’s a difference! he’s not who he appears to be at first glance, or even second or third glance. he’s not the detective prince, or an assassin with tunnel vision for vengeance, or even just plain angry. akechi wants to be needed, and he’ll do anything to chase that feeling.

so yeah, it would’ve been nice if he had found a homoerotic rival before the shido revenge plot debacle happened! alas.

[annabelle--cane]

every month or so a poll goes around here that makes hundreds of adults who are actively on the dating scene blast an "I am in no way emotionally ready for a romantic relationship" bat signal into the sky

[whomst-yall]

they are Going Through It

[gh0sti31uv]

i forget the comfort feeling of a bandage wrapped around your wr1st

[angelstate]

Husband!Ghost x Wife!Reader.

tw: sensitive content, read tags before continuing!

Husband!Ghost is at peace when he’s by your side, you made him feel less alone in the world, like the hurt of his past goes away every time he looks into your eyes, you are a remedy for his aching heart and he couldn’t be happier for having found you after thinking for so many years he was unloveable.

you treat him like he is worth something. like he isn’t Ghost, the soldier whose job caused the death of his family, he is Simon, your husband whom you want to build a family with, he can begin to understand how you feel safe enough to wish something like that but doesn’t tell you his concerns.

he doesn’t want to bring you further into that side of him, doesn’t want to make his doubts yours and risk losing you, not wanting to make you get a bad feeling, to think of him what he thinks of himself.

Husband!Ghost believes in a brighter future, and unlimited possibilities of how life would play out for the two of you, how will you look with the passing of time, how beautiful age will look on you, he wants to see you live, wants to grow gray hair with you and laugh about how you finally time catches up to you, making you look old yet beautiful, always stunning in every way.

his young pretty little wife, the reason he wakes up and takes a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs his oxygen and no longer the smoke from cigarettes that worsened his health at a slow but real pace. and he stopped smoking for several reasons, but you are the biggest and most important one, the main one that makes him use his self-control for something more than just managing his emotions, but to have a much longer future with you.

Husband!Ghost was suicidal for most of his life, wanting nothing but the torture of being alive to end sooner than later, he craved the relief of death, the weight of his burdens to be taken off of his shoulders. He was aware of how much of an extreme measure that was, he wasn’t actively trying to kill himself, but carelessness disguised as selflessness gave him free rein to sacrifice himself, to die a hero even though he felt like he was no good at all.

he has never meant to cause pain to those he cherished though, as small as that is, he has no place in his heart for a lot of people either way, his past uses most of it, storing the ghosts of those he loved that he didn’t have the chance to bury, the little space left used to put you in it along with his teammates.

He has you on his mind though, and that is a much more complicated place to get into or leave, his consciousness being his worst enemy and best friend, keeping everything and everyone alive even if they are long gone. but you aren’t gone, thankful, he wouldn’t be able to deal with your death.

but you are alive, breathing next to him, the sweet smell of your shampoo lingering in the pillowcase and sheets, serving him as a reminder of your existence, that he hadn’t imagined you. That you had been just there, right by his side and he would most likely get you back.

Husband!Ghost is good at letting go, at not letting things get to him no matter how disturbing they are, and he is able to keep his composure at all times, breathing in and out before acting out a plan, having overthought the worst of situations late at night, wanting to protect you from the evils of the world even if that was the last thing he did.

He values your peace and your safety, he guards your steady heartbeat so it never falters, so it never stops no matter what. He is tired of death, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to another person, not you, God, please anyone but you.

Husband!Ghost had already lost Johnny, his mother, his brother, his niece, his sister in law and so many more people because the world wasn’t kind, the universe having a personal vendetta against him, dictating that he should suffer and spend the rest of his years with vengeance seething on his chest.

He doesn’t enjoy violence as much as he makes it out to be, he doesn’t enjoy the nonwashable stain of blood on his clothes or the unending heaviness on his chest, he likes the peace and quiet that pristine clothes and a clear mind can grant a person.

and he envies you sometimes, how your hands are clean from violence and how you smile at adversity with confidence that you’ll get past the hardships life gives you, you seem so content with fighting for your happiness, having to use tooth and nail to get to the simplest of milestones because life isn't kind.

Husband!Ghost doesn’t understand a lot of things in this world but doesn't dare to ask questions, not to you, not to anyone. He lives clueless in some ways, emotions not being his strongest point, but he manages, and he tries in silence for you, always for you, everything for you.

And he goes to therapy in secret, not wanting you to know, not because he thinks it makes him look weak, no. He just wants to keep you out of the darkest parts of his life, the ones that keep him up at night, the ones that make him want to kill himself because he shouldn’t have survived.

He sometimes regrets having survived.

Husband!Ghost worships the ground you walk on, remembers every little detail about you, the way your voice turns high-pitched when you’re excited, the way you flutter your eyelashes when you’re about to cry, the way you look away when you know you did something he advised you not to do alone. he has engraved every aspect of you on his head, repeating them in a loophole when he’s struggling.

God how much does he struggle without your continuous presence, it seems unfair of life to part your path constantly, tying a rope around your waist and pulling you away from him every time he is close enough to reach you. He is your husband, so why does life behave so maliciously?

Husband!Ghost loves you too much to bear the sight he has in front of him, and he knows one day the universe would pull you away from him completely, he knew he was doomed to lose you from the beginning, it was only a matter of time before his peace was interrupted by the grasp of a destiny he didn’t want to live.

but right now isn’t about putting blame on someone, on a higher being he didn’t believe in or a destiny he wasn’t sure existed or not, maybe it was all his doing and he’s just blaming a more powerful source to take away the weight on his shoulders, to make his misery easier to carry as times goes on.

he moves closer to you, his steps heavy as he dares in a second of bravery and adrenaline to step closer to you, his heart pounding on his chest in a way that makes him want to throw up but he carries on.

he kneels next to you on the bathtub, his hands reaching under the water to hold your body, limbs unresponsive to his touch. he pulls you out of the water, not caring that his clothes are getting wet, he pulls you on his lap, holding your lifeless body like it’s made of iron, his grip strong and unkind, he can’t bring himself to be kind, and normally such grip would form bruises but the lack of blood flowing through your veins doesn’t make it possible.

He doesn't remember much of that evening, the flashing blue and red colors seeping from the bathroom window reminds him of false hope, and the cold wind hitting his face and your body hidden away by a black bag reminds him of the unkindness of the world he thought often about.

Widower!Ghost looks at your face and he thinks you're pretty, you’re prettier than he remembers as he sees you dressed in all white, your hair styled in the way he remembered you had it on your wedding day, your makeup simple but adding the color on your skin he knew you had lost a long time ago.

and if it wasn’t for the casket and your chest not moving up and down he could’ve sworn you were alive. He stands next to you for a long time, not moving and nobody dares to pull him away. They knew he wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of being away from you when the lifetime he had promised you together would no longer happen.

Widower!Ghost knows you left at your own will, that you left because you couldn’t keep yourself alive any longer and a small part of him is glad you went out on your terms, but the other huge part of him is devastated.

Because he loves you with the same strength religious people love their Gods, his love for you is poetic, it is guttering, it’s a flame of fire that doesn’t stop burning, no matter the amount of water you may pour in it. And he may just be one man but he loves you with the force of a thousand.

Widower!Ghost contemplates leaving the same way you did, he contemplates the repercussions of his action, the “what if” that stumbles upon his plan as he makes it, mind concentrated and focused as he studies his choices, and he thinks about it over and over again. a cycle forming in his head as he loses the light in his eyes before he even makes the final decision.

and it seems cruel to pull you away from him, it feels like a punishable offense to take you away from him with how much he feels for you, with how much he values your existence by his side, the smell of your perfume on the pillowcase, the warmth of your skin on his.

Widower!Ghost feels as if his life had ended when yours did, and it seems only fair in his mind that he stops delaying the inevitable, that he takes the steps he felt fearful of taking when he was a teenager and had things to lose.

this time he doesn’t have anything to lose, you took everything with you when you perished in the bathtub. Ghost takes a deep breath, a mouthful of pills and a glass of water later is everything he needs.

He lays on his bed, staring at a picture of the two of you, his eyes feel heavy but he refuses to close them, not yet at least. He needs one last look at your face, the sound of your voice replaying on his mind one last time before he finally lets go.

God, you always said I love you so sweetly in his ear, he’s going to tell you he loves you too when he sees you again.

[masterwords]

5x02 - Haunted | 6x06 - Devil's Night

[bananonbinary]

being very sincere here: i have never seen evidence that laziness is a real thing that exists. "you can do it but you aren't." do you want to (either because the Thing is enjoyable, or because you know the Thing needs to be done)? if yes, then it kinda sounds like you can't do it actually. if no, then who cares?

we don't need a word for "someone not doing something that they don't care about and doesn't negatively impact them," that's just how everyone works. and to use "laziness" to describe anything else is, pretty clearly in my eyes, willfully misrepresenting the situation because you don't believe other people might possibly experience difficulties you don't.

[theology101]

People need to accept that some times, a person is just Evil. And there can be lots of complex and nuanced reasons to be evil, but at the end of the day… they’re still evil. And just cause they’re a teenager right now doesn’t undo that, especially when every time they’ve had a chance to step away from evil, they doubled down.

Sorry you wanted her to be some manipulated little pawn but no, she’s a Mastermind. She made the choice, she murdered her friends.

Kipperlily is Evil.

If she didn’t do something in High School, she would’ve done something eventually. She’s a school shooter who slipped through the cracks and was failed by the adults around her - but end of the day she made the choice and is evil

Her best friend, the only one who ‘got it’ seemed to think that she was too far gone.

[zu-is-here]

Hey Zu!

Can we please see more rockband kross? I wanna see that two gay again.

I hope you have a good day/ night! :]

<– • –>

[codfanficedits]

Final tribute

If you're looking for a sign to stay alive, this is it.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader

Summary: Suicide.

Wordcount: 4968| Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: SUICIDE, mentioning of self-harm, mentioning of shoplifting, mentioning of a fucked up childhood.

A/N: Today (third of November) marks the 9 years anniversary of my best friend killing herself. It has taken me years to come over the guilt, and even 9 years later I still wonder if I could've prevented this. But I couldn't and she is gone. In a way I hope she'll live forever through me and my stories. We were teenagers, having to cope with shit that adults couldn't even cope with. I love you and even though you'll always stay 19 you're still my best friend. Until we meet again. A/N 2: If you're struggling yourself. Please know that life will be worth it, the sun will shine on you too one day, and you'll find the joy in life once more. I've struggled with suicidality and sometimes I still do. But. It. gets. better. I promise.

The silence lingers in the air as he sits on the chair next to your bed. You’re sleeping, getting some much deserved rest, but he can’t help but be angry at you. Angry for attempting, angry for not sharing what was going through your mind, angry at the professionals, for just letting you go again. But his anger gets replaced by guilt as he watches you sleep. Because if you were to die, it would’ve been his fault, at least to Simon.

Except that it wasn’t his fault. You just weren’t made for life and you knew it. Depression had been weighing you down since your teenage years, following you like a ball and chain into adulthood. No matter how much you tried, how hard you tried to fight it, it was a losing battle. A cruel dance with fate. Simon’s eyes wander around the self-harm scars that cover your body, a reminder of your battle, a reminder of every time your mind won the battle against your will to live.

As Simon’s guilt deepens, tears fall from his eyes. You always used to tell him “a cry a deep keeps the demons away.” So, he cried. You had always used your humour as a shield to cope, as a shield to keep people out of the dark abyss of your mind. No one would suspect a thing if you just kept joking about it.

It was a painful realisation – the guilt, but also the truth in those words. It was what he missed most about you, your smile, your warmth, your kindness. He misses your wisdom the most. Maybe if he had tried to understand you more, none of this would be happening. His heart ached with regret and longing.

Simon felt lost. He remembered your humour, but he could never make the thoughts leave his head. How you were always so lively and funny, but had suffered in silence for so long.

This had worried you the most. Not the dying alone part, you had made peace with dying alone a long time ago. But the failing of your plan, and how it would hurt the people around you.

He knew you hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he didn’t think he could find the way to forgive you yet. As for himself, he felt he could never forgive himself for not noticing earlier. How close you had been to death. How far he had allowed this to go, without a single moment’s notice. Not that this would’ve changed anything for you, you would’ve done it either way. With or without him noticing. The depression that had been brewing in you for more than a decade was a ticking time bomb, being set off without anything mayor happening. But this had been a messy attempt, your mind too crowded to think properly, the pain of being alive too much to bear. So you had made mistakes, mistakes that caused your attempt to fail. Mistakes that would make you hate yourself even more. Mistakes that would be carved into your skin the moment you had the chance. Simon couldn't help but feel your attempts to hide your depression had been his fault. Had he not made you believe you had to? Or was this merely some cruel trick his mind was playing on itself? He wanted to hold your hand so badly, to feel your warmth, to tell you he loved you. But you were sleeping. His guilt consumed him. He began thinking of every moment you had been depressed, every instance he hadn't helped, every time he hadn't noticed a thing. But truth be told, you would never had let him help you, your depression had been weighing you down, pulling you under the surface while you desperately tried not to drown.

But drowning is a silent thing to do.

And you, you felt as if the whole world had to be carried on your shoulders. Professionals had failed you, and friends were not made to carry such a heavy load. So you carried it all by yourself, allowing yourself to slip under the surface of the water. Simon was terrified. The idea of you suffering in silence hurt him more than he ever imagined it would. He wanted to tell you how much you affected the lives of those around you. How he had looked up to you for your wisdom, your humour, your honesty. How you had brightened his days just by being there. He also wanted to say how sorry he was for not noticing your depression sooner. But you weren't awake. So he stayed beside your bed, waiting. Hoping. Praying that you would live.

The disappointment of being alive would wash over you soon enough, and you would have to live with that disappointment, a disappointment to yourself and your friend. Your eyes flutter as you begin to wake up, the sunlight burning through your closed eyelids, the pain you feel a reminder that you’re alive. But you don’t want to open your eyes. You can’t face reality, not yet. A wave of relief washed over Simon as he felt you stir. He was still angry, worried, confused, but he couldn't keep the smile from his face. He reached for your hand, wanting to hold on to the life he had thought he lost. Wanting to hold on to you. Wanting to let you know just how much you meant to him.

"Don't leave me again."

You can’t answer him, not yet. You have to deal with the disappointment of being alive first, before you can tend to him.

Fuck

How you wished you were dead, how you wished that you had succeeded, how you wished you had finally found your peace. You turn to your side, curling up as a ball, the sobs that leave your lips are raw, violent even. As if your soul got broken open and you can’t stop your feeling from pouring out. As Simon watched you curl up into a ball, his heart ached. He could feel your hurt, your anger, your pain, and wished he could take it away from you. And he felt you needed this, this release, this raw feeling. But he also understood how much you disliked your existence. How unfair this life had been to you. How many times you had been disappointed by it all. By other people, probably. But he hoped in the end, you would know how much he appreciated and cared for you. Your tears didn’t stop, by all means they just poured harder, more violent. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did you have to be alive? Your feelings turn into anger, angry at yourself for failing, for staying alive, angry at the universe for playing these cruel tricks. “Fuck, Simon.” You sob. “I can’t do this.” Simon felt his anger dissipate, replaced by worry. He couldn't see you this way. So hurt. So depressed. So angry at the world, at life. That anger had always been the first thing he thought of when he pictured you, but not like this. Not the world's anger. Your own. "Hey hey, it's alright." He sat down next to you. "We can get through this together. Just me and you, like always." And that was when, for a moment, he almost believed it.

But you can’t, you don’t want to. You had been trying to get through it, with him, without him. But you’re tired. Tired of trying not to drown when the world is pulling you under. So, so, so tired. “I don’t want to, Simon.” You whisper and your voice sounds tired, as if you’ve been up for days. “I can’t fight anymore.” "Stop." he whispered, his heart aching. This wasn't the reality he wanted to admit, but it was one that was hard to deny. "Please, can't you see how many people care about you? I'm not talking about friends and family, I'm talking about me. Don't you think seeing you like this hurts me?" He knew you were tired. He knew you wanted to just disappear from the world of pain and suffering. And so he tried one last time. "Don't disappoint me." You squeeze his hand, to the point that your own hand starts to hurt from the power. You could see the pain in his face. The pain you had caused. And the guilt hit you like a ton of bricks. You feel so selfish, like you always have been.

“I’m so sorry for putting you through this.” "Stop... stop apologizing." He felt you squeeze his hand, and took it as a sign of hope. Perhaps there was still a chance, even at your lowest, to fight for life. "I'm your friend. I'll always fight with you, even when you can't fight anymore. Especially then. Maybe we can learn how to fight this together." He hoped it wasn't too far gone. He didn't want to lose you to the darkness. But what would you do if it wasn’t apologizing? It was all you did. Apologizing for existing, apologizing for not being good enough, apologizing for being depressed. For being alive. You give his hand a softer squeeze. “Thank you, Simon.” You mumble. “Thank you for being here, and I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.” "You've never let me down," he whispered back. His eyes were soft, and his expression gentle. All the anger, guilt and disappointment had vanished. He was thinking of you, how hard you had tried — harder than most would. He knew this. He felt this. He couldn't blame you for wanting an escape. An escape he wished he could provide.

"Don't you see? You're the strongest person I know. You're the last person to need to apologize."

His words. No matter how kind they were. They didn't register. You understood them, they were words you could even tell to others. But those words weren't meant for you. Not to someone like you.

So you laid there, curled up in a ball, the disappointment of being alive weighing on you. But they were meant for you. They were for you. Because even when you felt broken, he saw you as strong. When you were tired, you were resilient.

"Let me come a little closer." Simon shifted closer, trying to place his hand on your arm. He wanted to hold on. He wanted to feel you. Your warmth, your touch, your comfort in his hand.

You were hurt, but he wanted to hold that warmth, hold on to you. Because it felt like a treasure to him.

"Rest," he told you. And he meant it; he wanted you to take a break. You were so tired, so full of self-destruction.

He stayed with you in that bed, even as he felt your strength slip away. He wouldn't leave you until he was sure you could fight back. You would fight back, and he would do whatever he could to help you, to make the world a more bearable place. To give the light inside your soul room to heal.

And so your first attempt ended like this. With Simon holding you.

But you were broken, broken beyond repair, and one attempt turned into two, turned into three. All while Simon's life just continued. His missions, his deployments. And there you were. Feeling like a burden again. Simon felt his heart sink with each attempt, his anger growing with each disappointment. It made him feel powerless, unable to help you get better. To show you how much the world needed you. How much he needed you. "Not again..." His voice trembled with tears, a look of desperation on his face. He wanted you to recover, but felt hopeless. He felt that maybe he had already failed you, but didn't dare think it. Because if there was a chance for you to survive... he wanted you to take it. It must've been exhausting for him too. Not knowing if a call from you was just to catch up, or if he would hear just sobs, and rambling about how you couldn't take it anymore. How he had spent hours and hours talking to you. Unable to cope with the guilt of something would've happened to you.

But he was only human, and humans can only take so much.

You look at your phone. Tears streaming down your face as you had called him. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing..." He sighed. "I can't take this anymore. You can't keep doing this. Can't keep hurting yourself, can't keep hurting others, can't keep hurting me."

He didn't want to shout, but for the first time his anger began to surface. He wanted to see you get better, but his hopes were dwindling. "Just... please." Simon was at a loss of words. "How can I make you feel better about all this? What do you need?"

His anger was justified. In your attempt to stay longer on this earth you were dragging him along your misery.

"I'm sorry!" You repeat again, as the tears roll down your cheeks. "I don't know Simon." You hated that you had called him, once again. He was on deployment, unable to help you.

"Can you let me go?"

Simon felt his stomach knot. "Absolutely not." He knew his anger could hurt you, but had to hold on to his hopes of saving you. Because he had promised himself he wouldn't let you escape like this.

"No. No way." He let his voice raise, his anger making him feel stronger. "I am not letting you go." He would not hurt you further, but he would also not let you give up. He had to try.

A decision was made.

And you took a deep, deep breath. "Right." You mutter. "I'm sorry, again."

You wipe away your tears. "I know you're busy. And I really don't want to bother you. But can we just talk? Talk about our time at high school?" "Always." Simon smiled softly as the knot in his stomach disappeared. He felt more hopeful now that he had gotten your attention, and felt his anger melt away. "You know you're never a bother. How I wish the only thing I had going on was to speak to you." He tried to joke, but his concern for you clouded his humour.

"Tell me the first thing that comes to mind. High school. Any memories."

A soft sigh left your lips. You could hear his concern. You could hear your heart crumble when he joked about all the things that were going on, and how you were just another add on to that pile. But you pushed it away. This phone call had to turn into a light one. One without more worries.

"Remember how we met?" You ask. "In our self-defence class. You were brand new and I was a black belt. We hit off immediately, and then it turned out we went to the same high school." A smile formed on your face. Better times.

"I remember us secretly smoking behind the building." You snicker. Simon's smile broadened, the memory coming back to him as if they were there a second ago.

"I've always wondered what would have happened if I didn't go to that class." The smile faded again, replaced by thoughtfulness, as Simon considered how different his life would have been. He likely would have never met you. "I wasn't as tough as you remember, I was just taller." He chuckled. "I remember my first day, and you told me about your past. And you asked me about my life — which I was very quiet about then. What else do you remember?" You can’t help but chuckle. "Yeah we definitely did some trauma bonding. Two people with a fucked up childhood."

You clear you throat. "I'm glad we both managed to escape our homelife."

At the mention of trauma bonding, the smile dropped from Simon's face. It was true, it was how you had bonded. And it was one of the worst ways to bond. But he knew you were still thinking about it, and didn't want to change the mood of the call. "Don't think about that," he said. "Come on now, we can't let a shitty childhood ruin our lives." He was one to talk. Running away at eighteen to join the military. You both knew that your childhood would haunt, till the end of times. But you dropped the subject. Not in the mood to ruin this phone call. "Yeah yeah." You mutter.

"I remember you sneaking out of school to shoplift a can of coke." You laugh. "I was so goddamn worried you'd get caught." "Not as worried as me." Simon laughed. "I didn't get caught, though. So my criminal record is still clean... for now." "Although it is a miracle you never got caught. I don't think I've paid for a single can of coke in my last year of high school, thanks to you."

Simon felt his spirits lift, as he recalled all the stolen sodas you and him had split. It had gotten harder to sneak them in as you went up the year grades, but you had enjoyed those stolen moments of sweetness together.

For a few moments, it was as if you were still in those high school halls. Stealing drinks, telling each other about your past, and trying to escape your family life by spending all your time together. But now you were far apart, and there were other problems in your lives. Life had changed. "God. We were idiots." You sighed. "The amount of times we skipped school just to hang in the park and smoke."

"I still don't get how we graduated." You add with a smile, the phone call was helping to take your mind off things.

"We were almost too late for our math final." "We were extremely late for our maths final," he corrected. "But it got us through, didn't it?" He chuckled nervously, thinking of how close you came on several occasions to being kicked out.

"We weren't idiots. Life was just hard." He sighed, his eyes growing softer with each word, "We just needed to find ways to escape. And somehow, we made it." He knew you were feeling better, and thought for a moment. Perhaps he did want to push you a bit, to help you heal.

Of course you remembered, life had been hard for the both of you, yet somehow he had managed better.

"Somehow we made it." You repeat. "Thanks for staying on the phone with me, Simon. I know you're busy, and I'm feeling better right now. I'll keep you updated through text, okay?" "The day you don't call me on your lowest is the day you stop being my friend." Simon tried to joke. He wanted to lighten the mood, but also make you feel wanted. It was important to him that you did not feel like a burden.

"And don't apologize. Your emotions are the most important to me... don't push them away. I just wish I could be there to hold you through it all."

"You don't have to rush." Simon added, a sense of finality to his words.

"You staying on that call meant more than you'll realise." You said. "I'll text you soon okay? Take care Simon."

You ended the call, with a soft smile. Outgoing call: 57 minutes and 26 seconds. It did you more good than you had expected.

Simon sighed. Although it had been a long call, it felt like it had gone by in a flash. He kept thinking about that joke he made, about the day you stopped calling him on your worst days. And how he didn't want that day to ever come.

He knew you had been hurt too much in your life, so he was happy to keep being with you. To keep talking, to keep lifting you up again. He thought he had succeeded, too. Maybe you wouldn't try to hurt yourself again.

"I'll talk to you later." He muttered to himself.

You did feel better. Your house got cleaner, you started going out more. No longer calling in sick to your job that often.

You snapped a pick of a sunrise, sending it to Simon. "Made me think of you." You texted before you went on with your day. A little check in to let him know you were okay. He smiled as he read the message, feeling his heart lift as he read it. It was more than just a little message to Simon. It was what he needed to see, to know you were recovering, and happy. To know that all of the time and effort he put into helping you was paying off. He wanted to tell you right now that he was proud of you, that he was happy for you. But maybe you didn't need that yet. So, he kept it to himself for now. He responded with a simple "Thanks" message.

You did it every day. Usually in the morning. Sunrises. A flower. A dog. Anything that made you happy. And he usually responded with a "Thanks." But that was enough for now.

Your therapist applauded it, and that made you happy too.

You crouched down during one of your walks. Making a picture of one of the first fungi you had spotted during her walk. You send the picture to Simon.

"First one! When is your next deployment?"

Simon was glad for the daily pictures, and did his best to keep it up. He wanted you to feel like you were important to him, so he had to try and be more attentive to your messages. He stopped in the hallway as he read your latest message.

"Uh, this weekend. For three weeks." He texted.

He wondered if he should say more, but did not want to overwhelm you. He was happy already. You were alive, and looking at flowers and fungi. You were feeling better.

Ah. Three weeks. You knew he didn't have any service while deployed. Something with safety and all that. But you didn't mind. The cold November air hit your face, and it made you feel alive. You took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill your lungs.

"That sucks :(. I'll keep sending you the nice things I find on walks, even if you can't see them right away." You texted back.

Simon was glad you understood, and didn't want you to think he didn't care. He tried not to think about the length of the deployment, or the fact that he would likely not be able to talk to you for three weeks. But it didn't matter, because you were recovering.

"Send whatever photos you want, I won't be able to respond, but I will love looking at them." He texted. "Three weeks go by faster than you'd think. I'll be home before you know it."

You did the math. He would be gone on the first of November. And he would be back around the 22nd.

"Do you think you'll be home for Christmas? It’s been a while since we celebrated together." You texted him back.

Your text felt like a punch to the gut. It was true, it had been a while since you had celebrated Christmas together. Your last Christmas together had been two years ago, and it had been an awkward one at that.

Simon tried to put on a brave face. "I'm going to try." He texted. "If I'm lucky, I'll be back late December... maybe even early." He wondered if you would take these answers well, or if he had just made things worse.

"That's great. We'll work the details out when you're back from deployment, no worries." You texted back. There was a light spring in your step as you walked to your job. As if the weight of the world had fallen off your shoulders. "I'll text you tomorrow before you leave for your mission :)"

"Sounds good." Simon was glad to see you in high spirits again. "Talk to you soon."

You and Simon continued to exchange photos for the remainder of the week. He sent you images of training exercises, and you sent him photos of birds, and flowers. It was the highlight of both your days. On Saturday morning, the day before Simon was to depart for the mission, he sent you a voice message. He was standing in his room, as he talked.

"Hey. How are you today?" Some days you just exchanged pictures. The others you had whole conversations. But that was okay, you understood he was busy, and you didn't need his attention all of the time. You smiled when you got his voice message, it was nice to hear his voice again.

"Simon! I'm good, best I've been in a while." You answered through a voice message. "How are you? What time are you leaving?"

"I'm glad." That was always Simon's response, when he heard you were doing 'well.' He had grown to love seeing your photos, and the few conversation you had together throughout the week kept him going. He sounded excited when he spoke, and you could hear a little of the anticipation in his voice.

"Leaving in 20 minutes." He sent. "I'm feeling pretty good, to be honest. A little nervous, but I'm looking forward to the mission."

"You're a good soldier, Simon." You responded through your voice message. "Those three weeks will be over in no time, and when you're back we can go plan Christmas. In the meantime. I'll send you my daily pictures, so you have something to look at when you get back." You added in another voice message

Simon smiled when he heard you call him a good soldier. It felt nice, to be recognized. And to be seen.

He sent back one message that simply said, "Thanks."

He got ready for the mission, grabbing his gear and getting into his squad vehicle.

As he drove in quiet, he thought about planning Christmas. It felt nice, looking forward to things. Maybe you and him could go on a little trip, or do something fun together.

He was optimistic, and couldn't wait for the next three weeks to be over.

On November first you send him a picture of a sunset.

"Reminds me of you. I miss you :)"

But you got no answer, knowing he was out in a mission and had no reception.

On November second you send him a picture of a dandelion, a cat, and the moon.

"Even though we're apart we're looking at the same moon."

And again you got no answer, but you knew he had no reception.

On November third you send him a selfie, a smile on your face.

"I will miss you Simon. Take care. I will always love you. You've been a great friend. You've been my best friend."

On November third you put your phone back on your desk before you left your home. The walk to the train station was short. You had led them all on, but it was your time to leave.

You had held on to life as long as you could. But you were done. You were tired. You couldn't live another day, but at least he would have some good memories of you.

"I'm sorry." You mutter as you saw the train approaching.

One deep breath.

You and Simon always had a habit of sending photos to each other. Especially of the sky. Simon felt a sinking feeling come over him as he saw your last pictures. It was a beautiful sunset, but the words you chose had taken away much of its beauty.

"God damn..." He whispered as he read your message. "Is this what I think it is?" He started getting a thousand thoughts at once, all flooding through his brain.

What could he have done?

Should he have said something different?

You were going to be okay. You were getting better.

Nothing. Nothing could've been done. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't the fault of your therapist. No one was at fault.

Some people just weren't made to grow old, and you were one of them. Your depression had haunted you and had finally taken you to the dark abyss. You were finally at peace.

Simon tried to push away the thoughts of all you were going to miss. All of the life you were going to miss. He could not believe it. He simply couldn't. The person he tried to cheer up, was gone. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault... He kept repeating that to himself, but deep inside he knew that had always been true. He had done all he could. All he had been able to. And that would never be enough to make you stay. Simon's eyes were growing red, but he tried to keep himself strong. It had only been hours after you died, and he was already questioning everything.

"I'll remember you." He said, to no one. He thought of all of the times he tried to help you, the pictures you sent him. The jokes. the little conversations you shared. He couldn't believe it. Simon tried to dial you, to call you, to call for an answer. But he knew that there was nothing he could do now. Nothing but hope that heaven was real. Nothing but hope that he would see you again. Nothing but hope that this was all a horrible joke, a sick nightmare.

The photos of the sunset, the cat, the moon, all lay in front of him. They looked like a cruel joke. Like reality's cruellest and sickest joke of all.

You weren't supposed to end.

[hel7l7]

I’m in that weird stage of healing from smt where things are new and good. But the fact that it feels new and different terrifies me and makes me spiral into some sort of crazy panic mode because I just want control….

What I had in the past was not better than what is now. Repeat. I am only comfortable in chaos because it is what I know best. Repeat. I can learn to get used to a new version of me and it won’t always feel scary and uncomfortable. Repeat.

[taradactylus]

Been off from tumblr a bit but I just wanna share my general thoughts about TSAMS, especially today's episode...

‼️Quick warning for suicide and self harm mention‼️

I feel betrayed. I legit cried. Out of embarassment, betrayal, and pure but well-reserved anger.

I'm not going to be quiet about how to show handled Sun's problem. Not one fucking media type ever dares to normally bring up suicidal problems, the people who suffer from this, the amount of kids and adults who DIE from such thoughts. This isn't about the overly edgy teenagers who want to normalize cutting yourself is okey and cool. This is about the people who suffered for months and years with such conditions while the world made fun of them or ignored their calls for help. Ignored the signs.

USA doesn't have much of a public transport where the show is going on. But here we do. And a lot of trains are late every day. Late for hours because of "mechanical issues". 8 out of 10 times the mechanical issue is a local kid who jumped front of the train. A teenager fed up with life. An adult who lost their way. An ederly too impatient for death.

I have waited months. Months. To see how Sun deals with it. A character I fell in love with not in a romantic sense, a character who shared way too many of my own problems from hallucinations from abuse till betrayal. A character who was pushed and pulled their entire life around people who slapped you then said they love you. I wanted to see how he heals out from it.

The signs were there. Everywhere. Sun said it out loud once that he at least fantasized about death. EVEN OLD MOON KNEW ABOUT THIS! He literally told New Moon Sun would be capable of doing it.

So why... why through Miku, the character used as the "weird fandom girl" symbol do they bring up such a delicate topic? A topic that is not delicate because you have to tip toe around the people who live with self destructive thoughts day and night, but delicate because it matters to be properly heard out AND NO ONE LISTENS!

Not one fucking media listens. A lot of us out there rely on fandoms. Stories we can escape to because the world never listens. And call me a self-projector all you want dear creators or whoever writes the story, but you either just pulled the cheapest and most dumbest way to close off a story line with solving Sun's problems off-screen, or you just legit don't give a fuck about people who "self-projected".

Honestly, what if I did? What if in a sense, I saw myself in Sun? A Sunshine of a character ruined and changed by the things that happened to him. Am I not allowed to relate to him? Am I an annoying "fan-girl" for caring about how he heals because I myself have no idea how to do it either? Or am I like Miku for hoping someone calls out on his behaviour because that's something I've wanted my entire life and never got?

And here I am, still somehow hoping Sun is lying. That he is in denial. That there is more to what was shown... but honestly? How long should I wait and hope while the character I started to like is now becoming a bit too toxic?

And with all due respect, I'm taking this episode personally. The creators watch the fandom. Probably have their secret accounts to see what the people theorize. And if Sun is not lying, and suicide is an annoying topic and we are self-projecting too much onto Sun, with all due respect, dear creators... grow the fuck up and educate yourself.

I don't need the world to pity my ass for having self-harming habits, wishing to die and even attempted suicide before (I'm getting my ass to therapy in the meantime so do not worry about me), but all I want from content creators to fucking educate themselfes before bringing up such topics. TO CARE A BIT MAYBE?!

I have survived my worst times, but not everyone does (it's not about who is weaker or stronger, only utter guilt held me back, without that I'd be long gone), andI want for those who has no help feel like they're heard and seen. Cause literally that's all itt takes sometimes to maybe save someone's life.

So yeah. I'm utterly disappointed in this episode. Not because I want the world to know that I'm suicidal and everyone should tip toe around me and "omg pls give me attention" ect ect ect...

Im disappointed because I had hopes for TSAMS to maybe, maybe be an example and bring this topic up normally for a change. But well... here goes my hope for an educational approach of suicide and self harm in a popular show.

[psink]

Translation of the interview with Kamiya Hiroshi (Kusuo's VA) and Nojima Kenji (Kuusuke's VA)

The TV anime "The Disastrous Life of Saiki K: The Final Chapter" will air as a year-end special program on the TV Tokyo network on (friday) December 28th from 7:35 to 8:30.

The January issue of PASH!, which is now on sale, features an interview with Kamiya Hiroshi-san, the voice actor of Saiki Kusuo, and Nojima Kenji-san, the voice actor of Kuusuke Saiki. We’re releasing a preview ahead of tomorrow’s broadcast. 

Amidst the busy end-of-year, good grief, a world-involving sibling fight…? We spoke to Nojima Kenji-san, who plays the older brother Kuusuke, and Kamiya Hiroshi-san, who plays the younger brother Kusuo, after they had just finished recording about the truth of the matter!

―― Please tell us how you felt when the decision to make the Final Chapter was made. Kamiya: I was very happy. Even if you want to adapt every episode from the original work, it’s not always possible to do so. But with this series, everything fell into place. I think the biggest reason we were able to adapt it all the way to the Final Chapter was because of the fans’ wishes, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.

Nojima: I had heard that the Final Chapter would be made, but I was wondering about what form it would take, and it turned out to be a two-part year-end special. Could people really sit through an hour of this work?! What kind of focus would they need to watch it? I was a bit worried about that (laughs). But I’m sure that “The Disastrous Life of Saiki K” will deliver dense content that makes you lose track of time again, in the way only it can. 

―― Compared to other anime series, “Saiki” has about 2 or 3 times more dialogue per episode, right?

Kamiya: I had vaguely noticed that, but… Nojima: You didn’t want to know, did you? (laughs)

Kamiya: Certainly, for a 30-minute anime, it takes a lot of time to go over the script. Even when watching the DVD to check it, I thought “Hm? Is something wrong with the machine?”, because it felt like it was playing fast-forward (laughs).

Nojima:  I’ll be honest now, but on the day I first participated in the recording, I actually went into the recording without finishing all the checks.I checked the script at home and then immediately went to the studio. I was calculating in my mind the timing to start reading the script to record whilst still keeping my role preparation fresh. 

But, the amount of lines was beyond my imagination, so I couldn't finish the preparation… This was something that shouldn’t have happened, but honestly, I got through the latter half [of the recording] just with concentration (laughs). But, since I was able to maintain the momentum from the first half, I’m glad I was able to bring out a good sense of raw feelings. Kamiya-san, how was your first recording?

Kamiya: I already can’t remember, but when I re-watch Episode 1 now, I think the pace is still slow. It’s gotten gradually faster since entering season 2. In season 2, Director Sakurai was probably broken as the pacemaker (laughs). Nojima: Ahaha, I see. It's like a live band where the rhythm gradually speeds up, and you keep going without knowing the original pace.

Kamiya: Exactly. 

Nojima: Since you can’t keep up by just listening to the lines as words, you have to listen to the partner’s tone and match it. It might be similar to a music session.

―― In the Final Chapter, the relationship between Kusuo and Kuusuke seems to be a highlight. What do you both think about these brothers?

Nojima: The reason they can fight so much, do terrible things, and act recklessly is probably because, ultimately, they’re brothers. In a different case, it would have ended in a complete fallout, wouldn’t it?

Kamiya: That’s true. After all, what Kuusuke is doing is almost criminal. Nojima: Ahahahaha.

Kamiya: What I found especially dangerous about what Kuusuke did was the story of making the elderly villagers wear powered suits. The way he disguised it as caregiving while completely using them as his own puppets was seriously dangerous. Nojima: It’s surely his own sense of justice. I wonder if it’s an antithesis to how we should handle the aging society going forward (laughs).

―― Kuusuke’s obsession with Kusuo is also quite dangerous, isn’t it?

Nojima: Kuusuke has a very strong desire for approval, wanting to be recognized by Kusuo above all else. Challenging him to fights is, I think, a distorted expression of that. But I believe it is also an expression of his love and his desire to be loved back.

Kamiya: Kusuo probably thinks Kuusuke is a troublesome person, but Kusuo is also at fault. Although Kuusuke is a genius, he worked hard to create the control device for Kusuo to help him control his superpowers, didn’t he? Kusuo should be grateful, but he doesn’t express it. “Thanks, big brother. I can’t live without this” - it would’ve been nice if he could’ve said that, but Kusuo doesn’t understand the feelings of those without [superpowers], so that didn’t happen. There was also the sense of taking it for granted because they're family, but thinking how this resulted in that difficult brotherly relationship is quite sad.

―― That’s deep.

Kamiya: Although Kusuke knows he’ll lose, he keeps challenging Kusuo to fights and enjoys the process, which shows his malicious side. He’s also quite twisted. So they’re both equally to blame. From an outsider’s perspective, their relationship can be summed up with one phrase "they’re just just not honest with each other”.

Nojima: Despite that, there are also times when they rely on each other.

Kamiya: It’s complicated. That’s why even in the Final Chapter their relationship will likely be depicted. 

―― Finally, could you give a message to the readers who are waiting for the broadcast? Nojima: I was worried about how much Kuusuke would appear, but he ended up having a lot more screentime than I had expected, so I was satisfied. I have no doubts that the viewers will enjoy it as well!  Since the story’s pace is fast, please acquire the ability to not blink while watching (laughs), and surely, you will be moved to tears in the end. There are emotional parts, but more than anything, I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for cherishing and enjoying this series for so long!

Kamiya: The TV anime is finally reaching its conclusion. For those who are watching for the first time, it might be difficult, as the story keeps quickly progressing whilst you’re wondering “what is this?”. But there is a scene at the beginning that reviews past episodes and introduces the characters, so I think you’ll understand what this series is about. That said, since it’s a gag anime, I hope you can enjoy it without thinking too much.

As for the highlights for the Final Chapter, Kusuo finally moves [his mouth] and speaks for the first time. You might be wondering “What is this person saying?”, but it’s exactly as it sounds (laughs). Please watch the main story to uncover the truth behind it. I’m sure you’ll be surprised.

[lover-of-mine]

Buck got his happy ending, but did he really?

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Poppy playtime game/story concept/idea thingy: the player, overrun by guilt, sadness, and grief from the deaths of the other toys (including bunzo, mini Huggies etc), is driven insane and just.... Well, snaps.

And I don't mean, like, wallowing-in-emotions type insane, I mean like MISS DELIGHT level insane, except, yknow, with revenge instead of cannibalism🙃 probably gain a biiiiiit of a strong desire to hunt down and kill the prototype as a kinda "justice" (or at least what they think-)

i dunno, I came up with this at 3am and now its been living rent-free in my head

It was kinda inspired by Odysseus in this song:👇

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4Q0Un9PQ0wk&list=RD0M2ByVS-_Ww&index=5&pp=8AUB

But yeah anywho- hope I've given you brainrot!/j

*skeletor voice* UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN!/silly

I'm so fucking devastated, oh my God.

Angel/The Player seeing everyone die and trying to save them again and again. They can't catch Huggy when he falls. They don't realize what Mommy Long Legs can do until Bunzo is gone, and then they fail to help the mini wuggies and PJ. They watch in horror as MLL is crushed in the grinder, unable to do anything about it. They save Poppy, she asks them if they killed her, and Angel loses it. "I couldn't save her. I couldn't save Claire's little girl".

Then, Playcare.

They weren't expecting Delight to be crushed by that door. They try to save Dogday, and he's either eaten from the inside out or dies thanks to his wounds. Angel makes a desperate attempt to save Catnap, but the Prototype is quicker.

Kissy is mind-controlled by the Prototype. Angel saves her, and confronts him.

They kill the Prototype after a messy, messy fight, and a gas leak ends up killing whoever other small toys still remain. Kissy, Poppy and their angel are the only survivors.

Angel... Snaps. They leave PlayCo, call their family, and the two girls end up safe and sound. But Angel? They disappear. Forever.

It's only when news of Playtime's remaining employees going missing start arriving does Poppy realize what Angel decided to do.

They don't come back for her and Kissy. Their body is found years later, alongside the last of the missing higher-ups. Poppy can only hope that Angel finds some peace in the afterlife, if that even exists.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hey so uh about your boyfriend. yeah i accidentally whumped him too hard and he regenerated. sorry