#no more tired reac images

[magical-girl-coral]

Tumblr: OMG!!!! TRUMP IS ALREADY RUINING AMERICA!!!!! ICE IS RAIDING HOMES!!!!! ELON MUSK DID THE NAZI SALUTE!!!! WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THIS COMING!!!!!!

Me and every single Jew who warned y'all this would happen and were chased out of our communities and called zionists for it:

[cheriecoke]

starry silence

dazai x reader my lil contribution to the chaos that was today's episode <3 not quite a reunion, but the aftermath of one ෆ. i'm happy he's safe & sound, but he must be so tired. :( sfw !! kind of sad bc i’m also dealing w jjk leaks i love being in pain (i don’t)

as dazai slept, moonlight cut across his face, highlighting the contours of his skin, the dark maroon cuts and bruises that had been littered across his face. though he seemed the image of a soldier home from war, his freshly washed hair and soft breaths turned him into something much more gentle. dark strands fell in soft waves over his head, shifting as he stirred, his inhale just a skip before his breathing evened out once more. 

you traced his jaw, watching the steady streams of air flow through his chest, out his nose. he looked so angelic, so tender in that waxy moonlight, comprised of something otherworldly and earthly all at once. 

a soft sigh left his lips as you traced his chin, and something about that sound of relief, of him relaxing completely under your palm, had you choking up. tears pricked at the edge of your waterline like sharp needles, each one filled with something poisonous. 

dazai didn’t move, but you curled into a ball, squeezing your legs to your chest as he slept on.

he’d been out for hours, ever since he’d gotten out of the shower, collapsing in a pile of long limbs stretched toward every corner of the room.

the blankets were much kinder to him than the steel bed he’d slept on at meursault, where he’d always kept one eye open. now, though, even his own clothes fit him poorly, like the white prison pants that had hung so loosely off his waist. 

under his t-shirt, the angles of his collarbone had become sharper, the planes of his stomach much flatter than you remembered. though his features had never been soft, even the skin of his cheeks had thinned, stress taking more of a toll on him than he'd admitted.

it was peaceful night outside, no sounds of screams to be heard in yokohama. you were certain that you’d absorbed every ounce of turmoil that had lingered in the city beyond your doorstep, and it gathered up in your chest like a bundle of fiery energy. something that you weren’t sure how to get rid of without bending over the porcelain toilet. 

everything had resolved itself, hadn’t it? yet, you couldn’t shake the twisted anxiety that lingered in your chest, even when dazai was right beside you, sleeping soundly with no lasting injuries. 

you rested your chin on your knees, letting that emptiness swallow you whole, disappearing somewhere that wasn’t entirely there. the steady rise and fall of dazai’s chest was the only thing that kept you grounded, kept you from drifting away, lost in a spiral of every possibility that hadn’t come to be. 

a small sound of misery left your lips, and you bit down hard, tasting blood as two salty drops rolled down your cheeks. though the cry had been nearly inaudible, dazai heard it nonetheless, alway attuned to you, even the simple fluctuation of your heartbeat a beacon for him across the universe. 

“what’s wrong, darling?” his words were quiet, like he was hesitant to break the atmosphere, in fear that he might startle you. 

you blinked, not sure when your vision had become so blurry, and twisted your neck, letting your jaw rest against your shoulder. “nothing,” you said, but your smile was weak, and the word was hardly a sound at all.

dazai had tucked his cheek under his hands, blinking up at you with sleepy brown eyes that so resembled a child's. it hurt you all over again, that this aching soul who had never seen the beauty in himself had almost been taken away from you. 

your lips parted, but the words halted at your tongue as you pinched your eyebrows together, trying to explain what exactly was within you. it wasn't quite sadness, but it wasn’t relief either, a cumulation of everything you’d ever felt, and something entirely new. 

though, as always, dazai seemed to understand. he reached a hand out, fingers slender and delicate, placing them on your wrist. “it's not good to hold back your tears, my love.” 

as if you’d just been waiting for dazai’s permission, you shook once more, silently, the tears rolling down your cheeks faster, harder. he sat up, bringing you closer with every moment, until you were wrapped in his warm arms. ones that were battered and bruised, but still the safest place in the world. 

he smelled clean, more like himself than he had when you had reunited with him, and that fact alone sent another nauseating wave of emotion over you. you gripped his shoulders, his chest, unable to get any closer, even as you tried to fuse yourself into his being, turn yourselves into one whole that could never again be separated.

dazai kissed your temple, holding you as you cried, saying nothing until you could form the words to explain the ache that in the deepest part of your stomach, stretching to the back of your throat. 

“i was so close to losing you, osamu,” you said, and even if dazai denied it, even if he said he’d always had it under control, you knew that wasn’t true. one slip up, one miscalculation, and you never would’ve seen him again. a single error by chuuya, by ango, by yourself… 

dazai’s fingers twitched against your spine, and he, for once, was faced with uncertainty. like he hadn’t considered what would’ve been ahead of you when he was gone for good, even if his death would always be a possibility. even if you'd always known that if the world wouldn’t kill him, maybe he’d do it himself.

“i’m here,” dazai said, and it wasn’t a promise, but it wasn’t a lie, and you'd accept it for what it was woth. “I’ll be here.” 

there was no way to predict how long that would hold true, but you’d grasp that last spark of hope tightly nevertheless. you'd shelter it away in your loving embrace until the universe clawed it from your bloody palms, stealing the very last light that it had dropped down from heaven into your life.

and that would have to be enough.

"i probably won't write anything abt the episode, i really need to work on—" … rylie is such a silly liar (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

[cebwrites]

looking in

oc | gen, slight genrai word count: 0.8k

While they're recovering from the Sound Four, Genma and Raidou get a visit in the hospital late one night.

Raidou nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a ghostly figure walk past his bed - too tired and a little out of it on painkillers to think straight - but when he heard Genma's bed creak and the sound of his voice asking someone if they came here directly from a mission, and the quiet monotone that followed, he relaxed a little.

Even through the curtains separating their sections, Raidou could tell his childhood friend was consoling a shinobi he had become very familiar with over the years, still in uniform and a little filthy. Genma was scolding him for trekking dirt into a hospital and that he didn't have to cry over small potatoes. The reassurance that the blood on his clothes wasn't his didn't help in the slightest.

He couldn't see his face but heard the hoarse responding, "I'm not." Raidou could imagine the kind of expression the young man made, the kind he always had whenever Genma got hurt, and smiled a bit.

Eventually, Shiranui was able to convince Taeru to go home, clean up, and rest - best not bring germs and dried blood with him on his next visit, right? He must be exhausted, too. The tokujo were graced with the peace and quiet of their room once more after Raidou teased a little Genma about having such a doting baby brother. He was told to shut up and go back to sleep.

In the morning, the men are greeted with pumpkin broth alongside their expected hospital slop. The attending nurse chews Tae out for not letting anyone treat his wounds until after his visit and he pretends not to notice the heat of Genma's stare.

Tae gets round two of scolding after she leaves and Genma lays into him about the importance of wound care while apologizing to Raidou for not knowing what he liked to eat - getting just Gen-nii's favorites instead; his ear was twisted for not listening.

Genma makes a remark that he's only 30 and going to have grey hairs because of this little twerp, Tae's mumbled response was that he was taller anyway but even if he did, it'd mean they'd match. Raidou thinks rhetorically between bites of bread if Tae thought being cute would get him out of trouble.

The answer is apparently yes, since - although exasperated - Genma's expression softens still, and with a sigh, he tells the young man to sit on the floor so he can braid his hair.

It's not like it's the first time Raidou's been privy to moments like this; small bubbles of peace between their bustling, dangerous lives as shinobi. All of them were were aware that at any moment, all of it could be taken away. Hell, the reason Genma and Raidou were here in the first place was because they were defeated by Orochimaru's monstrous henchmen. The fact that they were so young stung both in the way that their opponents were just kids and that they were defeated. They weren't technically full jonin, just tokujo, but it still stung.

He wondered if those kids were Tsunade sent would be alright.

Tuning back into the idle conversation, Raidou watched his best friend carefully part and braid the younger man's hair. Genma mentioned how long it'd gotten, asking if he was taking care of himself properly - Tae's response was simply a low hum with his eyes closed.

Ahh, that must've felt nice, then.

Raidou briefly imagined what Genma's fingers running through his own hair would be like, but with his brother here all that produced was the unflattering mental image of himself with long hair in a comical way. He shook the thought away immediately.

His gaze turned to the two other men. It's not an unfamiliar sight; Genma's been tying Tae's hair since it was long enough to tie, long enough to cause the boy distress, and now as he's reclaiming his self image. Raidou was always in the periphery, as his older brother's - Gen-nii's - best friend. The comfortable quiet is nice, he thinks to himself.

It's nice enough for Raidou to reach over to try and pat his junior's head (although Namiashi was technically outranked), his expression the most peaceful it's looked in a long time; but that's disturbed as his wrist is held inches away and Tae asks what he's doing.

Raidou tries to awkwardly sputter his way through an explain for his actions, something about feeling the right moment - looking to his best friend in the other hospital bed for help. It felt as though he'd been rejected from petting a stray, or maybe an affectionate housecat who was sweet with only certain people and hissed at the rest. He could make a guess as to who he was right now.

Though all Genma does is take a second to hold the senbon away from his mouth, then laugh at his friend's discomfort under his baby brother's typical intense, off-putting gaze.

Heat slowly creeping up to his ears from both embarrassment and the sight of Genma's full-chested laughter, even if the cost was being hospitalized and wanting the earth to swallow himself whole, Raidou didn't mind moments like these.