#mizuki couples therapy

[cryingaboutpeoplewhodontexist]

Mizuki: welcome to couples counselling! My friend Tighnari told me you two had some issues to work on. Can you tell me what those issues are?

Kaveh: What?!

Alhaitham: *snorts*

Mizuki: is there something wrong?

Kaveh: We're not a couple! Alhaitham is just annoying and never cleans up after himself! Tighnari just was tired about me complaining to him about it so thats why he probaly asked you for help.

Alhaitham: Well, need i remind you senior, that its my house, so my belongings can lay freely there.

Kaveh: that is not the case if i need to step over them every time i walk into our living room!

Alhaitham: well you know what i need to see every time when i walk into our living room? That horrible painting that you still didn't hang correctly!

Kaveh: you..!

Mizuki muttering to herself: this is going to be a long day...

[dovoodles]

Sometimes all you need is . . .

Aka someone pointed out that Mizuki is the one holding the scissors in the Imprisoned Marionette set, and that coupled with the fact that it's likely that Mizuki's talk with Mafuyu is what finally gives her the courage to leave has left me absolutely sick. The creators of this game should pay for my therapy.

[transpandaoctournament]

Transpanda OC FINALS

THIS IS IT, THE FINALS, THERE WAS A LOT OF TIES BUT WE'LL SEE WHO... SOMETHING WITH THIS. WE'LL TALLY THE VOTES AND GO FROM THERE, YIPPEE!

The rules of the tournament

Brief introduction to "Thank You For Existing"

CHARACTER BIOS BELOW

Yuni Yoshinaga

“My name is Yuni Yoshinaga, and I don’t really exist.”

Born a timid, sweet, and quiet boy, Yuni was quickly mistreated for his rare heart-shaped pupils. To avoid abuse, he donned the personality mask of “The Demon Delinquent”. Years later, a major accident occurred. Yuni was medically mistaken for Mizuki Fujisaki, a well-liked girl with the same eye condition. Feeling finally free, Yuni dubbed “his” true self as “The Girly Force” to those aware while stepping into the role. Yet Yuni couldn’t shake off the “Demon Delinquent” personality mask. Why? He doesn’t actually exist…right? Yuni is the main character of TYFE.

Primary Inspiration: Masashi Rando from Pretty Face (And Chihiro Fujisaki from DR)

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Plural

Art of Yuni Yoshinaga by: Sunnyside_Cakes

Pan Kokoro

“I’m Non-Canon and I’m proud!”

Kokoro is your typical filler character; Never appeared in a single chapter of her source, and only a single episode of the show adaptation. The problem therein lies that the peppy girl exists inside the main character’s mind, Pan Yu. Brought to the front just a couple of weeks before the series’s canonical ending, Yu’s wedding, Kokoro is determined to find the space where she fits in best! Can she assert her existence with so many people insisting she’s just a delusional Yu, including Yu’s fiance Bow Botella? Whatever the case is, she’s surprisingly comfortable in both forms she has. Pan Kokoro is the main character of TYFE part 4: Filler Turf.

Primary Inspiration: “The Girl” from the anime of Ranma ½

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Plural

Art by @starredfishing, commission them!

Maya St. Fleur

“I’m Maya St. Fleur, and I’m gonna blow your mind!”

An ex-demolition woman turned psychic therapist (and a zombie descendant), Maya is employed by a recap therapy organization. Despite this, she’s actually never faced her past grief of losing several close people, choosing to forget instead. Trouble strikes when she needs to attend her own recap therapy, due to an actual total memory loss accident caused by Yuni. With slightly different circumstances, will Maya finally build on her past events? Or simply continue to demolish what shaped her...? Maya is the main character of TYFE Part 1: That’s Life.

Primary Inspiration: Razputin Aquato from Psychonauts.

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Adjacent

Art of Maya St. Fleur by: Sunnyside_Cakes

Jilly Bean

“I do not feel emotions. I hope that this does not cause you distress of any kind.”

Appearing quite emotionless at first glance, Jilly Bean is actually a severely self destructive individual focused on others first. Much of this stems from her assuming she fakes all of her emotions, when in reality she’s an undiagnosed system with one low emotion alter. She has a tendency of intervening with stories she feels demonizes someone unfairly. This need to be someone else’s anchor has led her into much trouble; the lemon coloring on her body is actually scar tissue for example. With the loss of one reformed villain turned friend, Shirley A. Gonna, Jilly’s low emotion alter gets front stuck, worsening her mindset. She is a recurring character in TYFE.

Primary Inspiration: Monkey D. Luffy from One Piece

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Plural (Unaware)

Art of Jilly Bean by: ragingwoodcock

[emanation-aura]

WHY DOES LAN YAN USE SECRET SOURCE AUTOMATON.

Xilonen? Perfect fit. Mavuika? Vaguely non-topical but connected by being ancient people/technology passed down to modern day and being war machines (literal or figurative). Lan Yan, who is not from Natlan and has nothing to do with ancient civilisations, artificial intelligence, or even anything to do with BATTLE—

I'm convinced Hoyoverse hates me specifically.

The Solitary Suanni is RIGHT THERE. I take back what I said about moving Gaming or Baizhu to the Suanni to compensate for lack of numbers. Just add Lan Yan to ascend on its mats like Xianyun does. Problem solved.

Mizuki using Hermetic Spiritspeaker is less egregious than it looks. Mizuki has a connection to Natlan (via People of the Springs) and has been there a couple times, plus Spiritspeaker is associated with the Masters of the Night-Wind, who canonically conduct therapy (this is confirmed by WQ dialogue; I can't for the life of me remember which one, but I have the screenshot to prove it). Plus, Mizuki's youkai-ness parallels or is meant to contrast the Spiritspeaker's seclusion, since the youkai of Inazuma tend to be more like Spiritspeaker (esoteric, hard to find, offer arcane wisdom) than Mizuki (engaged with human society, helpful, etc.)

Every day I wake up on this forsaken earth and remember that Baizhu and Kirara use Iniquitous Baptist boss drops and despair.

Yes, 3.6, we needed a new abyss boss for plot reasons, I understand. Let's assign it to the doctor from Liyue and the Inazuman courier cat nekomata and never look at it again.

This is nearly as sinful as Alhaitham and Mika using Setekh Wenut materials, but I digress.

[startwatchingjapanesedramas]

TV- Sixteen Syndrome

Ikumi and Mei are best friends, so close and dependent on each other that people consider them a couple. When playboy Asada attempts to flirt with the cute and antisocial Mei, Ikumi the tomboy stands in his way. Meanwhile, new student Sakurai is insecure about his girlishness. The storyline far exceeded my expectations; every character felt incredibly real, from their growth to their impulsiveness, and the way they continued to make mistakes and learn from them. Nobody is perfect and they all desperately need therapy, but that’s what makes this show so spectacular. Due to the serious topics touched on I wouldn’t call this a comfort show, but there are enough moments of lightness (usually provided by Mizuki and Aisa’s adorable flirting) that add to the complexities of human connection. An excellent coming-of-age with a very satisfying ending.

CW: child abuse/neglect, suicidal thoughts

Spotlighting: Aisa Takeuchi, Mizuki Itagaki, Rena Takeda, Yutaro

[cyhyr]

Whumpmas In July: "I Can't"

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka; Mizuki/Umino Iruka

WC: ~4990

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Notes: Deception, Drugging, Prison Break, Dissociation, Rough Oral Sex, Conditioning, Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Character Death, Triggers, Hair-pulling, Violence, Kidnapping

A/N: This story follows a Non-Linear Narrative, for the most part.

A sequel to “Secret”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

The day Umino Iruka walked into the clinic seeking therapy was the day Rikona changed her plans to fit her new narrative. Sure, she’d been next and available to take patients, standing right at the check-in desk as he filled out his paperwork; and normally, there was a day or two in-between registration and the first session, just so the team of psychiatrists and therapists could best review the potential case and match the best team with the patient. But none of that mattered. She was going to take Umino Iruka, and as soon as he finished filing his intake forms, she took the thin folder right out of Aiko’s hands.

“Right this way, Umino-sensei.”

“I prefer to be addressed with my given name,” he said on the walk to her office.

“Of course, Iruka-sensei. I’m Rikona.”

It’s so simple to establish a baseline with Umino. He wants to tell someone about his story, he wants to get better, but he doesn’t have the words for it and he doesn't know how to get there. She gently prompts him along, learning his past and keeping him from dissociating—she finds out in the first session that good is not a word Iruka can hear in certain contexts. She discovers trauma hidden in every corner of his life, coloring every interaction he’s had since he was eleven. She hears about Naruto and how Iruka’s as good as adopted him, even if the village won’t let it be official; and about Kakashi, the partner who suggested Iruka seek out counseling, yet forgoes his own mental health.

Really, it’s not hard to understand him.

So they have a couple of sessions and it’s working well. She’s getting to know him, while at the same time getting him to trust her and tell her more about his story.

But after only a few sessions, he is captured and tortured and she has to make a hospital visit when he's inevitably brought home—by none other than Hatake Kakashi. And of course, Hatake doesn’t leave his side throughout the hospital stay except for required psychiatric consults. Umino comes out the other side of his captivity with minor injuries and almost no backslide on his mental health progress.

Rikona gives herself much of the credit for that. To Hatake, she initially gives a modicum of a nod; he’s certainly present.

~

Iruka trips for the third time in almost as many minutes, and puts a palm to his temple. “Rikona-sensei, is there somewhere I can sit down for a moment?”

She looks back at him, brows raised. “Another dizzy spell?”

He nods.

Rikona leads him to a bench and lets him sit, guiding his head to rest in his palms, his elbows braced on his thighs. She had said that they were going to go straight to the Hokage Tower, but the hospital never felt this far away before. It feels like he’s been walking for over an hour.

“How much longer to the Tower?” he asks.

“Not too much,” she says. “Ten minutes.”

That. That doesn't sound right. The hospital is only a fifteen minute walk from the Tower. Why have they been walking for so long?

He lifts his head and looks around, but the wooded park they’re in looks like any other in Konoha. “Rikona-sensei, why are we in a park?”

“You asked for a little time to make sure the medication I gave you is in full effect before speaking to Tsunade-sama,” Rikona answers quickly. “Do you not remember?”

The world is still spinning. He carefully shakes his head before putting his head back down. “Are these dizzy spells also a side-effect?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You may have to just power through them.”

Iruka groans. “Okay, let’s keep going, then.”

Rikona offers her hand to help him stand, and her elbow to keep him steady as they walk.

The trees go by.

The sounds of the village fade away.

~

And then they find out that the Sato event traumatized Hatake. And honestly? She kept her cool in the meeting, but that night when she’s home, she has herself a good laugh. The man went and got himself traumatized over someone who he’s been manipulating for months, if not years? She’s not heard of a successful Reverse Stockholm syndrome; it’s hilarious.

But she also harbors a deep-set anger because it was under Hatake’s watch that Umino went and took that mission—he’s not an active field agent, shouldn’t be in the field, it should have never happened. It was under Hatake’s watch that the Sato incident occurred.

And then Umino talks about moving. And Rikona knows. This is the time. He’s asking for her advice, blushing as he talks about someday asking Hatake to move in together. But Hatake’s influence has been nothing positive and she knows exactly who Umino should be seeing instead.

She knows because she’s been covering for his usual therapist for over seven months and she’s a professional. She knows how to recognize abusers, manipulators. She can form an emotional connection with a carrot if it needs therapy—she’s good.

So when Mizuki tells her about his old boyfriend, this wonderful man he misses so dearly, who has never once visited him in prison; Rikona resolves to be the one to help this man, her patient, receive closure at the least—or reunite long lost lovers at best.

She knows she’s making the right decision. She knows Mizuki is good for Iruka. She knows because when she told him about what happened to Umino, she could hear his heart break.

“That’s why I never let Iruka take missions without me, see? Because I knew things like this could happen, and I care about him—Rikona, I care so very much—I could never have forgiven myself if something like this had happened to him while we were together.”

And no one can fake that tone, those heart-wrenching sobs, the tears, oh gods the tears.

Together they make a plan. And she’s so happy to help him, so happy that she’s essential to his reunion with Umino. Mizuki says it himself; without her, the plan could never be implemented. She even lets him write the first letter, so Umino can hear his words straight from his own hand.

And on her way out of the prison that day, she grabs a few forms, and some extra envelopes, and if one happens to be a request for a conjugal visit, well… Mizuki’s been alone for so long. The least Umino can do is reconsider.

...

(She didn’t know what that first letter said until Iruka-sensei brought it to her office, feeling like he could dissociate at any moment and experiencing a moderate anxiety attack. When she read it, she felt a sting of doubt, like maybe Mizuki wasn’t how she’d diagnosed him. But then she remembers Hatake, and how Mizuki says he changes things to fit his stories; and she realizes that this note must have been tampered with before it reached Iruka-sensei.)

~

The prison break for one goes like this.

It starts seven months prior, with the head psychiatrist for the hospital getting swamped with paperwork and a sudden flood of new patients, and it’s only her, Rikona, and one other therapist working the clinic lately. Tomi-sensei asks—practically begs—Rikona to take her prison shift on Fridays, that they’ll shut down the clinic except for emergencies. It’s only until further notice, only until Tomi-sensei can hire another psychiatrist, or at least another therapist.

When Rikona gets to the prison, the guard is wary at first—she'd already been there that week—but after a quick explanation he waves her through. She's been treating inmates in the East Wing for months prior, so she knows her way through security. But Tomi-sensei treats inmates in the West Wing. Three inmates, specifically.

The first she sees for an hour and a half. The first half hour is talk therapy, the last hour she oversees his electroconvulsive therapy. The second receives a cocktail of anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, a tranquilizer, and extra medicine to help with the side-effects of all these. Then, Rikona sits with them and talks for an hour. After that, she breaks for lunch. Finally, the third inmate of the West Wing; who receives one large dose of a mood stabilizer, and two hours of therapy.

Two hours a week, for seven months. Sometimes she stays later if the story he’s telling is particularly riveting, and she thinks that his telling of the story will help him.

But at the end of the day, she signs off on all three patients, carefully writing Tomi-sensei’s name in place of her own. Tomi trusts her judgement, and her conscience is clear. All three patients are steadily improving, some at slower paces, but improvement nonetheless. Rikona bills the hours in her own name, though; Tomi can take the credit for their health, but she needs to pay her mortgage.

So it’s easy to check out one of the East Wing prisoners for electroconvulsive therapy that Monday when she heads in. And she’s been working in the prison for years, so security knows her, and the East Wing prisoners are minimum security risks anyway—Rikona, thin and small as she is, picks an old woman to lead to therapy. And if the room for electroconvulsive therapy is in the West Wing, well security knows that Rikona knows her way around there, too.

The old woman is feeble, slow, gentle. The prison system broke her years ago. The poor thing doesn’t need to be shocked into submission. That’s not why Rikona brought her along.

There’s a seal she knows—the only advanced bit of chakra use she ever learned, before she determined that the shinobi way wasn’t her way—which can render a person invisible for a short time. She knows that the loss of his ability to mold chakra is very hard on Mizuki, and so when she leads the old woman into his cell and gives him the premade seal, she returns the grin he gives her.

“It’s time,” she says.

“You have him?”

“He’s all yours, Mizuki. You just have to promise to be careful. Whatever’s been done, he’s—”

“Rikona-sensei, I could never hurt him.” She presses the tag to his chest and he disappears.

She closes the door to the cell, leaving the woman in there alone, and walks away.

Confidently, she strides through the halls of the prison. She waves to the security personnel she knows. And then she gets back to the woman’s cell, and pushes another tag onto it—one to keep the door locked for good. They won’t be realizing that she’s gone for hours, if not days. They only use the flap at the bottom of the door to push her meals inside, and the tag leaves that part alone, she makes sure of it.

She toes it, just a little, just to be sure. It sways.

Rikona walks out the front doors, Mizuki a silent, invisible presence behind her.

~

Does she feel bad for lying to her client?

Gods, yes.

But it’s for his own good.

Hatake is a terrible, manipulative elitist. He doesn’t deserve someone like Iruka-sensei.

They’re five minutes from her home, a wooden cabin she maintains deep in the forests outside of the village. It’s there that the medication takes full effect and Iruka-sensei collapses. She’s so much smaller than him, and he’s heavier than he looks, but she pulls him onto her back and drags his feet along the ground and up the stone steps and into the house.

She’s careful, laying him down on the rug in front of the fireplace. It’s warm, so she doesn’t feel the need to start a fire. He’ll stay unconscious for a few hours, just until after sunset. She puts a blanket within reach, just in case he wakes up before they get back.

And then she leaves to collect Mizuki.

~

Kakashi doesn’t know how to explain it.

But something’s wrong.

There’s an odd scent in the air.

He had been heading to Iruka’s house, but he sighs and turns around to head back to the Tower. He’s still not going to take that mission, but he needs to talk to Tsunade.

~

Rikona watches as Mizuki strokes Iruka’s face tenderly. She’s making dinner in the kitchen and they’re laying side-by-side on the rug in front of the fireplace, now lit and warming the cabin. Her heart swells to see them together again after all this time, and she hopes that Hatake hasn’t poisoned Iruka-sensei’s memories so much that he can’t remember the good times he had with Mizuki.

They look good together.

Iruka-sensei hasn’t woken up yet, but she checked his vitals when they came back and he’s coming back to himself. They had pulled his vest and weapons off of him and set them on the couch once they got back, so he could lay more comfortably. He should wake any minute.

~

“A bad feeling?”

“A bad scent.”

“Like an intruder?”

“I don’t know. Very likely.”

Tsunade steeples her fingers. “Track it. Do not engage. Report back.”

Kakashi nods and turns to leave.

“It could be Akatsuki,” she warns. “Be careful.”

Kakashi is gone as soon as she finishes her sentence.

~

This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be a part of this. This isn’t love.

Rikona can’t believe she was so thoroughly duped.

~

The pack at large doesn’t know the scent he’s trying to convey to them. All he can say to describe it is wrong and bad and that can describe any fucker who hits their partner or child, or any stall vendor who deliberately raises their prices for a certain kind of person, or—

“The ripe, rancid one?” Pakkun asks, growling.

And those are the words he’s been searching for, yes. The rest of the pack catches that same scent and readies themselves.

“That’s the one. What is it?”

“That’s the prisoner Iruka-Boss fought a while back, when the prison had that major breakout.”

Kakashi’s stomach flips and his spine chills.

Mizuki.

~

“You’re awake.”

Mizuki puts his hand over Iruka’s mouth to keep him from crying out, leans over and whispers in his ear, “You could never get away from me, don’t start trying now.” The tears glistening in the corners of his eyes shimmer in the firelight and he looks beautiful when he cries. Mizuki dips his head and kisses Iruka’s neck, relishing the whimper he receives.

He removes his hand, knowing he has Iruka’s obedience.

“You’re not real,” he mutters. “This isn’t real. It’s-It’s a side-effect. Of the m-medication.”

“Oh, baby, this isn’t a dream,” Mizuki lifts himself to hover over Iruka, pressing the length of his body along the tan one on the floor. “I’m here. I’m here to stay.” He shoves his knees in-between Iruka’s thighs and rolls his hips. “Hmm, missed this. Missed you. Did you miss me, too, baby?”

“Get off,” Iruka hisses.

Mizuki grins and presses his teeth to Iruka’s neck. “Don’t mind if I do.”

~

Kakashi sends half of the pack to find Iruka, and the rest follow Mizuki’s scent.

He goes to the prison; he needs to check himself. He needs Pakkun to be wrong.

The security personnel confirm that prisoner 834-769 is in his cell. Been there all morning. There’s no log of him being taken out. Kakashi doesn’t growl, but asks if someone can go down to the cell and give him visual confirmation.

“Chakra confirmation is sufficient when there’s no cause for alarm,” he’s told.

Chakra confirmation???

“The fucker has no ability to mold chakra! And there is cause for alarm,” he grits through his teeth. “My pack caught his scent outside. I need visual confirmation of his presence in his cell now.”

Security at least pretends to take him seriously. They send a team down to the West Wing and Kakashi considers following them.

And then a bone-chilling howl echoes outside, and Kakashi doesn’t care about visual confirmation. Because the howl is the one that says scent lost and it’s coming from Bull’s half of the pack, the half that’s supposed to find Iruka—

And if they lost his scent—

Kakashi bolts.

~

Rikona leaves them to reacquaint in the living room. She steps outside. The stew will be alright on its low heat, and the rice still has plenty of time left to steam.

The stars are nice. The moon is waning from full, and she pulls a throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. In the distance, she can hear wolves howling and smiles softly.

It’s such a nice night.

~

He can’t explain it. He doesn’t stop to try, to tell an ANBU patrol what he’s doing, or to find Gai or anyone else.

The look on the security guard’s face was enough. No one will believe him if he tells them that Mizuki has something to do with Iruka’s disappearance. Hell, no one will likely believe him if he tells them that Iruka’s missing. After the Sato incident—and his reaction afterwards; he can admit that he was being a little overprotective—no one will take him seriously.

Kakashi has to do this by instinct. He has the pack flanking him, leading him along the ripe, rancid scent. They understand without him explaining, thank the gods.

Iruka is pack. This knowledge is as an intrinsic part of him as his family name, as chidori, as his loyalty to Konoha. More than this, the deeper part of him recognizes Iruka as his and recognizes the reciprocal possession Iruka holds on his very being.

Whether he knows it or not, Iruka owns him.

Boss’s Boss, indeed.

~

Mizuki hears the door shut behind Rikona as she leaves. He puts his mouth over Iruka’s, and when his lips won’t part he pulls on Iruka’s hair knowing that it will force a gasp as well as remind Iruka whose he is. He pushes his tongue into Iruka’s mouth when it opens and rolls his hips faster. With his other hand—the one not busy with the hair—he reaches to his crotch and pulls down the front of his prison pants and frees his dick. He fights with Iruka’s pants, and then lowers those too and eventually grabs both of them together in his fist.

Iruka’s limp. That’s fine. He’s used to working with that.

Iruka winces into their kiss, muttering, “Stop.”

“None of that. You know better.”

Iruka turns away. “I said, stop.”

Mizuki lets go of his own dick and pinches Iruka’s, watching him wince and hold back tears and bite his bottom lip.

“You know I don’t like that word. You don’t get to tell me to stop.” He grabs them both and strokes. “There, isn’t that better?”

“No, please—I can’t—I don’t want—”

Mizuki pulls his hair harder, twists his fist in the strands, and Iruka relaxes and his eyes turn glassy and there he goes. Mizuki grins, bites at Iruka’s mouth, and says, “Beg me to touch you.”

The response comes like the last two and a half years never happened. “Touch me,” Iruka murmurs.

“Tell me you missed me.”

“Missed you, ‘Zuki.”

“Aww, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel good.”

~

Kakashi runs through the forest behind the hospital and another sinking feeling hits his belly.

Rikona-sensei was supposed to be in charge of Iruka’s care.

But if Iruka’s missing.

Where’s Rikona-sensei?

“Pakkun.”

“Boss.”

“You know Iruka’s therapist?”

“Yeah. She went this way, too.”

Mizuki took them both. Fuck.

~

“Want to suck my cock, baby?”

Iruka comes back, just for a moment, just long enough to get the n sound of his answer. Mizuki tugs his hair again—training Iruka to become his personal little slut at the pull of his hair was the most brilliant idea Mizuki had ever had; he pats his own back every day he remembers the time he spent on it. And, damn it took time. Iruka never liked having his hair pulled, so the pain and the sex and his never-ending desire to please Mizuki combined together to make a perfect storm. And it still took months, almost a year, of hair-pulling and ordering Iruka around to condition him into the perfect whore.

And now, thanks to Rikona, he’s got that back.

He pulls himself up to the couch and sits, slides his pants to his thighs, and guides Iruka into position over his cock. There’s still tears on his lashes, and that’s just fucking perfect.

Mizuki’s been using his hand for over a year, and Tsubaki’s cunt before that.

Nothing compares to Iruka’s throat.

“Oh, good boy,” he groans as Iruka slides down over him. It’s tight, hot, wet—perfect—he put so much work into training this slut to take him and blow him right and two years isn’t enough time for Iruka to forget it seems, because he gets to slurping and tonguing and bobbing his head like he never left Mizuki’s legs.

~

Rikona stops in the doorway, blinking.

Iruka-sensei has dissociated. Mizuki seems to be aware of this, yet isn’t trying to get him to come back. In fact, he’s using Iruka-sensei’s mouth as-as—

She turns and goes back outside, closing the door quietly behind her.

She looks up at the night sky and suddenly the stars don’t feel so relaxing.

~

“My sweet, good boy, sucking me soo good. Look at you. Right where you belong.”

He remembers what he’s heard about Hatake from Rikona. What a joke. “As if blowing someone else could ever change who owns you.”

Iruka whimpers. Gods that sound fucking drives him crazy.

“Who owns you, baby?”

Iruka pulls off of him, just enough. “You, Mizuki.”

“Fuck, missed this.” He pushes Iruka back down, hits the back of his throat and keeps going. He takes Iruka’s hair in both hands and moves his head for him; Iruka isn’t going fast enough to get him off. This way, though, “You’re mine, baby. So good. Mine, mine, mine—FUCK!”

He shoots down Iruka’s throat.

The first time they did this, Iruka had spat it out. Mizuki made sure he never did that again. He knows that Iruka throws up later, once he comes back to himself; but whatever. Right now, he’s swallowing down Mizuki’s come, his throat working his pulsing cock and it feels great. He pulls back near the end of his orgasm, and lets the last pulses of come splash on Iruka’s lips and chin, watching it drip down his neck.

The tears are falling freely, but Iruka will stay on his knees until Mizuki tells him to get up. Fucking beautiful.

~

Why would Mizuki take both of them?

It doesn’t make sense.

Iruka, obviously. Mizuki’s had it out for Iruka since they were twelve, if not younger.

But why Rikona-sensei? If nothing else, he should have killed her. They should have found a body.

They still haven’t picked up on Iruka’s scent. There’s a third scent, but it’s muddled and weird and Kakashi can’t place it.

“Boss.”

“Akino.”

“Smoke, up ahead.”

“That’s where they are.”

He knows it in his bones. In his soul. He’d bet his life on it.

… He’s also betting Iruka’s life on it. The pack is already at top speed, but for this last sprint they all push just a little more.

~

Rikona walks off the porch and down the path. She’s reviewing the last four months of therapy sessions with Iruka-sensei in her head, and the last seven months with Mizuki, wondering where she went wrong. She hugs her arms tight to her body and watches her feet.

Hatake-san is an elitist. A genius, gifted child who advanced through the ranks too quickly and thinks too highly of himself. He’s Friend-Killer Kakashi, known for leaving a teammate for dead, for putting his own fist through the girl who loved him for the sake of a mission. He’s manipulative, and known for reading porn in public, and tampers with his partner’s mail, and-and-and—

She’s reaching.

She knows she’s reaching.

Oh gods, what has she done.

~

Kakashi watches Rikona stop on the path and begin to shake. He slides out of the tree silently beside her, and says, “Yo, Rikona-sensei.”

She gasps, startled. “Hatake—”

“Where’s Iruka?”

She points to the cabin behind her. “Please, I didn’t know. He lied to me.”

“Hmm?”

“He told me you were bad for him. He told me that he missed Iruka-sensei. He cried when I told him about Sato.” Rikona bites her lip. “How did he fake that? Did he fake that?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

“I’ll turn myself in.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kakashi says. He glares at her, exposing the sharingan for full threat. “If he’s hurt, you get hurt.”

~

“We should go to Water Country,” Mizuki sighs, slipping his dick back into Iruka’s mouth. “They’ve got good clubs out there. I could make a lot of coin selling the use of your throat.”

Iruka’s so far gone, so far down, he doesn’t even react.

“And with the ocean and all, your vomiting won’t be so off-putting each night.”

The door breaks open and a pack of mutts crash through the windows around him. Mizuki pulls out of Iruka’s mouth, reaches in Iruka’s weapon pouch beside him for a kunai. He may not have the ability to mold chakra anymore, but that doesn’t change how well a blade can slice through the delicate life beating in a person’s neck. Mizuki pulls Iruka to his lap and has him cover his body, pressing the kunai under his jaw.

“I wouldn’t,” he warns. Hatake stalks into view, coming around the couch. “I promise, I’ll kill him faster than you or your mutts can get to me.”

One hand on the kunai, the other around Iruka’s waist. He doesn’t even need to keep a hand in his hair now. Iruka’s his.

He put in the time.

He put in the effort.

He built Iruka.

He sneers at Hatake. “You and your mutts can leave.”

“Not without him.”

“Iruka? Tell Hatake to leave.”

“Please leave, Hatake-san.”

Oh, that was good. Like he was slapped, Hatake flinches; just barely, but Mizuki catches it. That was nice. Worth a reward.

“Good boy, baby,” Mizuki purrs. He bites Iruka’s shoulder, relishing the soft whimper.

~

He’s under. He’s so far under and Kakashi has to be careful or he won’t get Iruka back.

This wasn’t a warning Rikona gave him; that came from Tomi-sensei a few weeks back, when she heard about one of the dissociation episodes he’d experienced during the Sato incident. He can’t trust anything Rikona has ever told him now, but Tomi-sensei never had a hand in Iruka’s care and so is objective.

He motions for the pack to stand down.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Mizuki says. “Don’t leave. Just stay still.”

He takes the kunai away from Iruka’s neck and aims it at Kakashi.

He won’t hit him; Kakashi’s faster than anything he can throw. This is perfect. This is his chance.

He just has to be careful.

Iruka could still not come back if he’s not careful.

~

The bite of a blade against his neck is odd, but familiar. The slosh of come in his stomach is uncomfortable, but familiar. The taste of musk and come on his tongue is gross, but familiar.

Mizuki’s rumble against his back is nice and familiar.

Slipping into following Mizuki’s orders is simple. It’s easy.

The pain of his hair being pulled. The claustrophobic sensation of being boxed in as Mizuki hovers over him. Their bodies pressed together. His dick—pain—being stroked alongside Mizuki’s own length. It’s all familiar.

Falling is easy.

He can’t. He can’t handle being there anymore.

And then—

“Don’t move. Just stay still.”

The blade leaves his neck, and Iruka tracks it as Mizuki levels it at—

At—

Kakashi—

“Just sleep, dearest.”

“Please, Iruka, I wanna touch you please.”

“I like asking.”

“Please kiss me.”

“Hello, Love.”

“What do you need?”

“I will always come for you.”

“I will be wherever you want me to be.”

“Hello, Love.”

“Can I use the g-word tonight?”

“Hello, Love.”

“Hello, Love.”

“Hello, Love.”

And Iruka wakes up.

He reaches for the kunai out in front of him, disarms Mizuki and stands up out of his lap. He fights the vertigo, fights the chills chasing each other down his back and his arms.

He remembers the day he came home to Mizuki and Naruto, and how he put two kunai in him before kicking him out. He remembers the rage, seeing Naruto pull away from Mizuki like hot coals, remembers sending Naruto to hide in his own room because they had been in Naruto’s room; there was still a small blood stain on the floor of that apartment when he left, one he couldn’t clean up in time.

Mizuki can fuck with him all he’d like.

But he can’t fuck with Iruka’s family.

And maybe Mizuki couldn’t hit Kakashi with a kunai if he were point-blank. Maybe a thousand kunai couldn’t hit Kakashi if Mizuki were the one throwing them. It doesn’t matter.

Iruka’s been teaching Anatomy of a Kill and running disarming practicals for years. They can call him soft, and say his humanity is a weakness or a strength. He preaches the Will of Fire and he burns with it; he will protect that which is precious to him.

Naruto.

His own sanity.

Kakashi.

Whether or not it needs protecting, Iruka will be the shield.

He plunges the kunai into Mizuki’s chest, drags it through heart and liver, snapping ribs and muscle tissue as he goes, and settles the blade in Mizuki’s intestines. He stands over Mizuki as the life leaves his chest, gushing red and bloodying Iruka’s hands and clothes.

Mizuki’s eyes are dark with betrayal.

He whispers, “I will always own you.”

And then… and then he’s gone.

And Iruka breathes.

Gods.

I’m… I’m free.

[deerixiie]

description: one by one, love stole the people oikawa cared about the most. it stole him, too.

pairings: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

w/c: 1.6k

genre/warning: angst, hanahaki au, major character death, mentions of blood, body horror?

a/n: this is a one day late birthday present for the wonderful @wanderynn!! rae ily don’t kill me for writing oikawa angst for your birthday

Oikawa was nervous.

Which was odd, because he had been in situations like this before. Interviews required being asked questions he was expected to answer, after all.

But those were interviews. This was a therapy session.

Oikawa’s gaze dropped down at his hands, slightly worn from years of slapping a volleyball with his entire strength. Those same hands that had slapped a ball with spine-chilling intensity were the same hands that gently caressed your cheek, the same hands that easily intertwined with yours, the same hands that tilted your chin up with every kiss he placed on your lips.

Oikawa’s eyes started to burn.

The therapist seated in front of him continued to tap away on the computer, her face devoid of any emotion. She seemed to be satisfied with whatever was behind the screen and swiveled around to face him, a disgustingly fake smile on her face.

(Oikawa would know, his smiles were fake as well. Slightly strained, a little too bright to be genuine.)

“So, Oikawa-san,” the therapist said, making eye contact with him.

“Oikawa is fine.”

“Oh, alright. So, Oikawa, how are you feeling?”

Tired. Numb. Odd. Guilty.

“Fine.” The fake smile came easily.

“Ah, okay. Is this your first experience with Hanahaki?”

No, of course it wasn’t. He was told that being well-known meant people will fall in love with him. “It’s not your fault, Tooru,” they said. “Some people fall in love very easily.” Oikawa remembered snorting, thinking that no one could possibly fall in love with him just because he was charming and good-looking.

He was wrong.

(It started with Ume, the bubbly girl in his second year of middle school. Then Riko and Akika in his first year of highschool, one other girl he didn’t remember the name of in his second year, and Mizuki in his third.

Only three of them had settled on getting amnesia and forgetting Oikawa entirely instead of dying. The adoring gazes he was once plagued with became empty stares.

But Riko didn’t. Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to her funeral; he knew the only stares he would get would be accusatory ones.)

The therapist continued. “And I mean, not just from being a celebrity, but with people close to you.”

Oikawa suddenly found it difficult to breath. He saw the flash of spiky dark hair, of rude nicknames and harsh shoulder slaps.

(“I’ll be alright.”

“Iwa, you’re dying!”

“I said I’ll be alright.”

Oikawa was in Argentina when Iwaizumi died. “He had a severe coughing fit on the street that made him pass out,” they told him. “He was dead before they could put him in an ambulance.”

Oikawa cried for hours.)

“Yes,” Oikawa said quietly. “A close friend of mine died from it.”

“Oh.” The therapist’s smile faded away. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, flashing his brightest of smiles.

The therapist’s expression became more serious. “Dealing with that much loss must be hard.”

Oikawa didn’t respond. What does he even say to that?

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

About Iwaizumi? No, about you. Oikawa’s smile was smaller, obviously less genuine. “No, not really.”

“Well, uhm…” the therapist drummed her fingers against her thigh. “Were you two close?”

“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a lie. The lines between the two of you had been gray and blurred. Were the intoxicated kisses at two in the morning really love, or just drunken lust? Being tangled up under the covers as you lazily slept on top of the other wasn’t necessarily romantic, was it? You held his hand because you were afraid of losing him in the crowd, not because you loved him, right?

(Wrong.)

“Even if we were friends, we were closer than most friends were.”

“Ah.” The therapist typed something on her computer. “How did you find out?”

“Come again?”

“When she was diagnosed. How did you find out it was you she was in love with?”

“Oh.” Oikawa looked out the window. It seemed to be on the cusp of fall and winter, bare branches and freezing temperatures but no snow.

He found himself smiling. You hated the snow.

“She told me a couple hours before she died.”

The therapist sucked in an audible breath. “What was that like?”

Oikawa swallowed slowly. “We were sitting together, watching a movie or something like that. She had a coughing fit.”

(He remembered how weak you looked pressed up next to him, your knees drawn to your chest, your eyes hollow and empty, your body thin and frail. Your coughing fits were violent, more violent than most. Tissues and handkerchiefs followed you wherever you went, stained with shriveled, bloody petals.)

“She told me it was me. I didn’t understand her at first, but she was saying it was me over and over. And then I understood. Six hours later, she died.”

“Is that all?”

No. “Yes.”

“So you didn’t really have much time to think about it before she passed, but it must have made you feel guilty. That’s why you’re here today.”

Oikawa nodded.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Oikawa.”

That’s what they all said. But he couldn’t help it, could he? He saw you sprawled on the ground in a pool of crimson, serene white petals decorating the floor like it was some sort of aesthetic arrangement. You looked so unbelievably peaceful, finally freed from the death vice of your unrequited love for him.

Love for him.

Oikawa was blind. He was desperate. He was so desperate for affection that he accepted your kisses and touches with open arms, disregarding the fact that you could be in love with him. Pure, inhumane lust drew him to you, trailing his hands down your arms, pressing his lips against your skin. He was a monster.

“Oikawa, I take it that you’ve heard of PHH?”

(PHH - (Purple Hyacinth Hanahaki) A branch of hanahaki originating from guilt over the death of a loved one; usually one who had died a hanahaki-related death from being in love with them.”

Oikawa’s nose had wrinkled reading the definition off of his health textbook. “That can happen?” He asked, glancing over at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi shrugged and continued to fill out his homework. “Love is confusing.”

“If it’s this confusing I’m never going to fall in love!” Oikawa huffed. “Love is stupid!”

“That’s what you’ll say now, Stupidkawa. I bet you’re falling in love first.”

“Hey, Iwa-chan, not true!”

The world was an ironic, cruel place.)

Oikawa’s heart pounded in his chest, an ominous countdown. (Countdown to a diagnosis? Countdown to his death?) He nodded once. “I know about it.”

The therapist drums her nails on her desk, echoing his already racing heart. A sympathetic look passed on her face. “You might be at risk for that, Oikawa.”

Oikawa found his eyes drifting over to the window once more. He spotted a lone orange leaf clinging to the end of a tree branch, persisting even as the wind violently shook the branch.

(Your body shaking violently as you clung to Oikawa’s arm, whispering “it’s you” over and over, a mantra that would haunt him even in death.

Death. It was coming sooner now, wasn’t it?)

Another violent shake, and the leaf spiraled to the ground.

(Ghostly empty eyes, mouth slightly parted as blood dribbled from the corner. Your arms were wrapped around nothing, as if in those last moments of life you were holding something tight to your chest, a last connection to the mortal world.

Oikawa wished he was there. No—no he didn’t. He wouldn’t bear to see the light fading from your eyes as he held you in his arms.)

He closed his eyes. “I know.”

He found himself back on the court two days later.

“He always finds a way to come back to the court.” His coach had said that once. Highschool Oikawa had reveled in the praise, reveled in his devotion to a sport.

Now it felt shallow. How dare he be more devoted to a sport than the own two people who motivated him to even start playing? How dare he be blinded by the rush of dopamine a successful serve gave him? How dare he not support his closest friend when he was nearing his end? How dare he not notice your unyielding love for him? How dare he how dare he how dare he-

Oikawa swiveled on his heel and threw the volleyball onto the wall. It bounced off with a satisfying “thwack” and landed back into his hands.

Oikawa sighed.

His thumbs traced slow circles against the leather. Soothing. Calmi-

(His thumb rubbed a gentle circle into your cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, his breath hot on your face.

Your lips quirked into a smile. “For what?”

“Mm,” he moved forward and closed the distance between you greedily, encapturing you in another kiss. “It doesn’t matter.”)

Oikawa threw the ball up and took a step forward, shifting his weight into his feet for the jump.

A violent cough tore itself from his throat.

Oikawa collapsed onto his knees, his hand pressed into his mouth. The coughs were aggressive, sending violent tremors throughout his entire body. His throat hurt.

(“Yeah, it hurts,” Iwaizumi muttered, quietly rubbing his throat. “It hurts like hell.”)

(“It hurts.” Your voice was a ghost whisper in the quiet hums of the night. “Tooru, it hurts.”)

The coughs subsided, leaving behind an eerie sort of silence. Oikawa removed his hand from his mouth.

Ah, he thought. I should’ve expected this.

A vivid purple petal dotted with crimson sat in the palm of his hand. He closed his fists around the flower petal, his eyes stinging with tears.

Love was harsh words and sore throats. Love was drunken lust in the ungodly hours of night. Love was confusing. Love was stupid.

Love, it seemed, was everyone’s demise.

-purple hyacinths represent sorrow or regret.

-white tulips represent forgiveness.

taglist: @joliechuchoter @pablopascal @yn-tingz @vannerz @strawberriimilkshake @sunarashi @hajiimes @tttournesolll @hajibee @semiis @kageyuji (send an ask/dm if you want to be removed, fill out the form here to be added!)

[storytellingwithnissa]

Therapy Lessons #1100 words

My therapy lessons consisted of making stories with my adopted mother and my therapist. 

Writing would help my anxiety, it was a way to help get off the prescripted drugs. 

Here’s one of the stories, I would create :)

Mikage’s Other Familiar                This is just a one-shot I have been thinking about for a while. I watched Kamisama Kiss a couple of months ago and I instantly fell in love with the characters. Therefore, I decided to make an OC and the rest just came with it. “Please don’t leave me.” My voice echoed through the white flower filled meadow. Mikage continued to walk into the brief glimpse of light. I ran to Mikage as fast as I could. However, it seems my efforts were pointless. The more I ran the more I felt like I was getting nowhere. “Mikage-sama, please don’t leave.” I beg him. I extended my hand hoping he would turn around and accept it. As he completely vanished with the light, he turns around in time smiling at me sadly. I watch his lips murmur his final words before disappearing for good. When Mikage left, the life of the meadow begins as well. Everything disappears around me. I was falling into the white abyss only hearing Mikage’s words echo through my head. “Stay by his side, Anissa.” “Anissa!” I felt someone shaking and calling my name. The sound of the voice was sweet and mellow. “Anissa, please wake up you’re having a nightmare.” My eyes open abruptly meeting the brown eyes of the current land god of the Mikage Shrine, Nanami Momozono. She wrings out a washcloth and places it on my head with a smile. “You had me really worry, Anissa. You were shaking and talking in your sleep. Are you okay?” It made me feel bad to have my Master worried about me. I am the familiar I am supposed to be taking care of her not the other way around. I wonder what Mikage-sama and Tomoe would think about me in this type of situation. From the sounds of early birds tweeting outside, it was morning. “I’m fine, Nanami-sama. Thanks for taking care of me.” I gave her smile, but in the inside, I felt sad. Nanami had been taking care of me since I fell ill yesterday. Lately, I have been working myself so hard to keep the shrine clean I forget to sleep and eat. What a pathetic thing to do! Mizuki and Tomoe had left the shrine two days ago to take care of familiar business. Therefore, I was in charge of the shrine until they returned. “No problem, Anissa. Tomoe and Mizuki should be home this afternoon, so do not try to work too hard before they come back. I’ll see you later when I get home from school.” She stood up. “Wait! Nanami-sama do you mind not telling Tomoe and Mizuki about me getting ill. I just do not want anybody else to worry about me (especially Tomoe.) I said the last part more to myself. If I am going to stay by Tomoe side, I have to be stronger and careful not to anything too rash. “I promise.” I smiled. “Have a good day at school and don’t forget your hat.” I snapped my fingers. The purple hat appears on her head much to her displeasure. She mumbled and grumbled putting her on shoes. Onikiri and Kotetsu appear into the living room. “Don’t worry Nanami-sama. It’s the other way Anissa-san can protect you without moving in her condition.” They said in unison. She shook her head understand the situation, but still mumbling in unsatisfaction before leaving the shrine. I giggled. That is Nanami for you. Kotetsu remove the cloth and felt my forehead. “Are you feeling alright, Anissa-san?” He said worry. Onikiri flew over wanting to know the same answer. Other than Tomoe and Mizuki, Kotetsu and Onikiri I care for them both deeply they were more than shrine spirits to me. “Don’t worry you two, I’m fine.” I gave them a smile. “Ok.” They said happily. I got off the futon letting my midnight black hair fall down my back. After folding it, I put it back in the closet. I left the living room to put on my usual attire for the day, which was my red flowery kimono. I added a hint of makeup and decided to let my hair flow free today. I begin the tasks of cleaning up my room and the rest of the house. After sweeping from room to room, I could hear the sound of arguing acknowledging that Tomoe and Mizuki were back. “Oh my.” I sighed. I finished the hallway then put the broom away to greet the other familiars. I enter the living room to see the two arguing. “Welcome back, you two.” I smiled. Mizuki jump me into a hug. “Anissa-chan, I’ve miss you so much.” I return the hug. “Glad to have you back, Mizuki.” Mizuki look at the clock above us. “It’s almost time to pick Nanami up from school. I guess I will take my leave.” He disappeared. After the hug ended, I felt a little dizzy. I felt like things were moving from side to side. I felt Tomoe catch me. Everything went back to normal. “Anissa are you all right?” He looks into my dark blue eyes. I wrapped my arms around his back and leaned into his chest. I shook my head slowly taking in his sweet scent. “I’m fine, Tomoe.” I felt him wrap his arms around my waist. Moving his forehead to mine, he gave me an intense stare. “You know I know you better than anyone in this shrine and you were never good at lying.” I could feel my face heat up from embarrassment. “I cann-“You stutter a lot when you lie.” He teased. “Tomoe quit teasing me already.” I felt like my face was going to explode. “You were always cute when you blush.” I press my hands against his chest. He intercepted me and pulled me even closer. He forces me to look him in the eye once again. “What’s bugging you?” His tone sounded quite serious. “It is n-nothing-“Anissa.” Tomoe gave me look. “Nightmares, Tomoe. I am having nightmares of when Mikage-sama left. They won’t go away.” Tears leak down my face. “Shh…’’ He picked me up and took me to his room. He gently puts me down on his bed and cradling me in his arms. The feeling of warmth fills my body causing me to drift into sweet slumber.                        Understanding Mikage-sama’s words perfectly, I happily accepted the task of always staying by Tomoe’s side.”

I miss my sensei <3

[neurotrophicfactors]

4, 17, 19, 23, 39, 49 for the oc meme!

4. A character you rarely talk about?Osric Erasmus Livingstone III. He was born into a noble family as the youngest of three sons, and the only son who did not inherit a single spark of magic. When he was 11, his family (minus his eldest brother) was exiled and the rest of his childhood was spent struggling to get by with his mother and middle brother. Adult Osric, as a result, is a pompous douchebag who does good deeds solely for the money and recognition because he never wants to experience poverty again. He’s not above petty revenge and thus makes sure to tell anyone who mentions Lord Caiaphas (the eldest brother) that his real name is Eugene. 

17. Any OC OTPs?Between OCs–I used to have lots, but now I only have a couple in development. I’m trying to make a boyfriend for Osric, but it’s hard when your brain is a piece of trash that can’t focus on anything for any decent length of time. 

19. Introduce an OC who means a lot to you (and explain why)I’m going to talk about Naota Ryder, because I never get tired of talking about Naota Ryder. He’s my first Mass Effect: Andromeda child and I love him to bits. He has generalized anxiety disorder and he grew up feeling inadequate because both of his parents are prodigies and… he’s not. He’s smart, but he’s not a genius, and so he always felt like a disappointment–especially to his father, who was a war hero while Naota loved dance and didn’t want to hurt a fly. He joined the military in hopes that it would bring him closer to his dad, hated it, but became a sniper to keep himself out of the fray. Joke’s on him, because he was good. Very good. He earned the nickname “Headhunter” among his squad because whenever he was instructed to shoot to kill, he always used headshots; it was the fastest, most painless death he could offer. He hated the nickname. He has a good sense of humour, but most people never see much of it because he’s very reserved and it typically only comes out when he’s comfortable and in comfortable company.

I love Naota because I find him really relatable. He’s very different from me, but I grew up feeling like I was never smart enough, and I know what it’s like to have anxiety. I also have a huge soft-spot for characters with close sibling relationships, and he and his twin sister, Mizuki, are best friends. He’s just a good boy and a crybaby and I love him. 

23. Introduce an OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like?Already introduced him, but definitely Osric. When I first created Osric, he was just going to be a pretentious asshole from a noble family; I had none of the exile backstory to explain his pretentiousness. He was just going to be obnoxious and self-entitled. Because I created him to play the tabletop game Palladium, I also rolled to see if he would have psionics and he ended up being about as powerful of a psionic as one can be. I may revisit that idea. 

39. Introduce any character you wantI’ll introduce Renton Ryder; my newest soft boy in development. Because he’s another ME: A child, he grew up in similar conditions to Naota–could never live up to his academic expectations because everyone expected him to be a genius, but he really loved physics. Renton is an angry person not so deep down. He’s really open and friendly–great sense of humour–but when someone pisses him off, he has a temper and there is no off-switch. Fists start flying. It can be a problem, and it was a big problem when he was growing up. He went to therapy for it and he was given a lot of tools to mellow him out–he meditates. He isn’t quite agnostic, but he hovers between believing in God and not believing in God. He does believe in spirits though, the way Turians do. He is also my ADHD son.

49. Which one of your OCs would most likely enjoy memes?Naota would share memes only with his closest friends, but Renton Ryder… oh man, Renton is a memelord. And if he wasn’t in a medieval fantasy setting, I know that my Dragon Age son, Tristran Lavellan, would enjoy memes too. 

Anisaaaaahh!!! Thank you for sending these! I hope you’re doing well

[transpandaoctournament]

SEMIFINALS ROUND TAKE 2!!!

The consensus seems to be overwhelmingly for redoing this poll!

REMINDER: If Yuni OR Kokoro get the most votes they both go forward, if Maya gets the most she goes forward, it they tie: I subject you to an even longer version of this image

The rules of the tournament

Brief introduction to "Thank You For Existing"

CHARACTER BIOS BELOW

Yuni Yoshinaga

“My name is Yuni Yoshinaga, and I don’t really exist.”

Born a timid, sweet, and quiet boy, Yuni was quickly mistreated for his rare heart-shaped pupils. To avoid abuse, he donned the personality mask of “The Demon Delinquent”. Years later, a major accident occurred. Yuni was medically mistaken for Mizuki Fujisaki, a well-liked girl with the same eye condition. Feeling finally free, Yuni dubbed “his” true self as “The Girly Force” to those aware while stepping into the role. Yet Yuni couldn’t shake off the “Demon Delinquent” personality mask. Why? He doesn’t actually exist…right? Yuni is the main character of TYFE.

Primary Inspiration: Masashi Rando from Pretty Face (And Chihiro Fujisaki from DR)

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Plural

Art of Yuni Yoshinaga by: Sunnyside_Cakes

Pan Kokoro

“I’m Non-Canon and I’m proud!”

Kokoro is your typical filler character; Never appeared in a single chapter of her source, and only a single episode of the show adaptation. The problem therein lies that the peppy girl exists inside the main character’s mind, Pan Yu. Brought to the front just a couple of weeks before the series’s canonical ending, Yu’s wedding, Kokoro is determined to find the space where she fits in best! Can she assert her existence with so many people insisting she’s just a delusional Yu, including Yu’s fiance Bow Botella? Whatever the case is, she’s surprisingly comfortable in both forms she has. Pan Kokoro is the main character of TYFE part 4: Filler Turf.

Primary Inspiration: “The Girl” from the anime of Ranma ½

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Plural

Art by @starredfishing, commission them!

Maya St. Fleur

“I’m Maya St. Fleur, and I’m gonna blow your mind!”

An ex-demolition woman turned psychic therapist (and a zombie descendant), Maya is employed by a recap therapy organization. Despite this, she’s actually never faced her past grief of losing several close people, choosing to forget instead. Trouble strikes when she needs to attend her own recap therapy, due to an actual total memory loss accident caused by Yuni. With slightly different circumstances, will Maya finally build on her past events? Or simply continue to demolish what shaped her...? Maya is the main character of TYFE Part 1: That’s Life.

Primary Inspiration: Razputin Aquato from Psychonauts.

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Adjacent

Art of Maya St. Fleur by: Sunnyside_Cakes

[transpandaoctournament]

Transpanda OC Tournament Semi Finals

The rules of the tournament

Brief introduction to "Thank You For Existing"

CHARACTER BIOS BELOW DUE TO THIS BEING A TWO (or 4) AGAINST ONE POLL, MORE HAS BEEN WRITTEN ABOUT MAYA TO BALANCE

Pan Kokoro

“I’m Non-Canon and I’m proud!”

Kokoro is your typical filler character; Never appeared in a single chapter of her source, and only a single episode of the show adaptation. The problem therein lies that the peppy girl exists inside the main character’s mind, Pan Yu. Brought to the front just a couple of weeks before the series’s canonical ending, Yu’s wedding, Kokoro is determined to find the space where she fits in best! Can she assert her existence with so many people insisting she’s just a delusional Yu, including Yu’s fiance Bow Botella? Whatever the case is, she’s surprisingly comfortable in both forms she has. Pan Kokoro is the main character of TYFE part 4: Filler Turf.

Primary Inspiration: “The Girl” from the anime of Ranma ½

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Plural

Art by @starredfishing, commission them!

Yuni Yoshinaga

“My name is Yuni Yoshinaga, and I don’t really exist.”

Born a timid, sweet, and quiet boy, Yuni was quickly mistreated for his rare heart-shaped pupils. To avoid abuse, he donned the personality mask of “The Demon Delinquent”. Years later, a major accident occurred. Yuni was medically mistaken for Mizuki Fujisaki, a well-liked girl with the same eye condition. Feeling finally free, Yuni dubbed “his” true self as “The Girly Force” to those aware while stepping into the role. Yet Yuni couldn’t shake off the “Demon Delinquent” personality mask. Why? He doesn’t actually exist…right? Yuni is the main character of TYFE.

Primary Inspiration: Masashi Rando from Pretty Face (And Chihiro Fujisaki from DR)

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Plural

Art of Yuni Yoshinaga by: Sunnyside_Cakes

Maya St. Fleur

“I’m Maya St. Fleur, and I’m gonna blow your mind!”

An ex-demolition woman turned psychic therapist (and a zombie descendant), Maya is employed by a recap therapy organization. Despite this, she’s actually never faced her past grief of losing several close people, choosing to forget instead. Trouble strikes when she needs to attend her own recap therapy, due to an actual total memory loss accident caused by Yuni. With slightly different circumstances, will Maya finally build on her past events? Or simply continue to demolish what shaped her...? Maya is the main character of TYFE Part 1: That’s Life.

Primary Inspiration: Razputin Aquato from Psychonauts.

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Adjacent

Art of Maya St. Fleur by: Sunnyside_Cakes

MAYA (Part 2)

"Yuni, is this just what you deal with from the day to day?"

Something... wasn't right. Maya had only gone to recap therapy cause her memories accidentally go plucked out. She got them back, she was herself, everything should be fine. But the... "she" she was during that recap keeps popping up when the others go through their own recap stories. Does changing a few things in this, really only simulation of the past, start following it's on continuity? This "continuity error" Maya seems so much more chipper and adventurous than present her. ...And what happens when the recap catches up to the present? What's gonna happen to them her?

Primary Inspiration: Razputin Aquato from Psychonauts.

Plural or Plural Adjacent?: Adjacent

Art of Maya St. Fleur design by: ragingwoodcock