#the existential thoughts and anxieties are starting to get to me

[smallboyonherbike]

🖤📞✔️⚫️🏴‍☠️

[gatitties]

Web of love

─Yandere!Jujutsu Kaisen x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: your worst night followed by a wonderful day, are you slowly going crazy? Maybe, but you'll get out of here no matter what

─Warnings: blood, self-harm, anxiety attack, hallucinations, obsession, toxic behaviors, stalking, yandere stuff

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

The blank pages: Part One / Par Two

YOU TRY to control your shaky breathing, no one would take away the poor quality of sleep you had at this point in your life, but having nightmares right now was the last straw that broke your patience.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your face was slightly wet because you needed to splash yourself to clear your thoughs, the cold water didn't help much anyway, you slapped your cheeks with moderate force hoping the feeling of mental numbness would go away, but again it didn't work.

"What the hell is wrong with me…?"

You touched your right cheek, slightly red from the previous blow, focusing your gaze on the reflection of the sink mirror, you were a complete disgust, never, not even in your worst period of exams, had you seen yourself so emaciated, the dark circles and bags under your eyes, the lack of color in your face, your frizzy hair, its lack or decrease, bloodshot eyes… you could continue to despise yourself while you stare at your reflection for hours, bringing out each of your flaws.

But there was one that bothered you beyond your appearance, your lack of emotions, your lack of thoughts, you refused to show anything other than a blank expression to those people who ruined your life, you refused to have to think complex things while they took care of everything, not being able to do anything on your own you began to stop complicating your life by thinking about solutions.

Who were you? What were your goals? Your tastes? When did your memories start to become blurry? When was the last time you really smiled? Were you real? Or just a corporeal desire of psychopaths eager to have something precious to protect? Since when was everything so gray, so monotonous? Did you still consider yourself a person with rights and freedom? When did you start accepting this?

"Hey… Hey!"

Focusing your lost vision again in the mirror, you weren't very surprised that you were hallucinating after having a brain as soft as baby food, it was you, maybe a couple of years younger who was speaking to you through the reflection, your mouth opened but no words came out as if you were a fish out of water.

"What's happening? Is this the future that awaits me? You're pathetic! Look at you… Where the hell is your stupid smile? You used to smile a lot before, why…? Why have I become a puppet?"

Your words mixed with a murmur, feeling how your heart squeezed painfully in your ribcage, your mind deciding to continue the macabre game of your existential crisis, replaying memories with your family and all the warm moments that kept you sane until now. You closed your eyes hoping that the hallucinations would disappear, but you only managed that instead of visuals they were audible, reproducing words of affection from your parents in a loop like torture, the breathing exercises you did before to calm yourself stopped working now, you bit your lip so hard that you ripped off some skin, not enough for you because you started running your nails down your arms, leaving red marks from the friction and force.

"You're better than this, what's all this whining about?! Get up and stop being a coward! You will only drag me into this meaningless future!"

"Shut up…"

"Are you even worth anything? You're so boring, I don't understand how those sorcerers want to protect you."

"Shut up."

"Are you going to cry to sleep like always? You are a disgrace, you are lucky, lucky that someone can love you so much, what would you do without them? They are much better than your own parents, accept it, accept it, they love you unconditionally! Even without knowing who you are or how you feel, even without knowing what your purposes are, they will love you! Accept your desti-"

"I said shut the fuck up! Silence!"

You shook your whole body, holding your head, you hit it a couple of times against the wall, so hard that even a couple of tiles fell off, a few drops of blood fell from your head, but you didn't care, the voice, your voice, it was gone, you swallowed your own poison, locking your inner, dark thoughts deep in your brain.

Your mind continued numb for a couple more minutes where all you could hear was a faint sound of static and a constant beeping, but it was more calming than having to listen to your own voice in that twisted way. Getting up once you calmed down a little, your reflection returned to normal, you splashed your face with cold water again, cleaning the blood on your head, nails and lip, taking one last look at your pitiful person, with your head still full of unknowns.

"Why is this happening to me?"

You rub your eyes tiredly, cleaning up the mess you had made, you decide to lie down on the cold bed once more, tucking yourself in and looking at the ceiling waiting for your body to magically disintegrate into ashes, too pretty to be real, when you realize the rays of light make your eyes hurt and sting, one more sleepless night, a new day awaits.

Faking and ignoring your nighttime crisis you get up to do your morning routine, being greeted by an overly cheerful Nobara as you passes through the dining room to look for some breakfast, you couldn't say the same for Megumi, who looked much more tense than normal, you didn't know where the others were but you didn't care much either, and Nobara and Megumi didn't say anything about your appearance, whether they noticed it or not, you're just glad they decided not to ask anything.

"You look like you've experienced the worst existential crisis of your life."

You spit out what you were drinking when you heard Maki just enter, from her appearance you could tell that she had gone out for a run early in the morning, Toge and Panda followed behind her, everything fell into a silence that was too uncomfortable for you because they stared at you carefully, completely ruining your efforts to hide your bad appearance.

"Just a bad dream…?"

You mumbled, avoiding everyone's gaze, Toge approached you, patting you on the head as if that would help you, although it was the most comforting thing you felt this week, it didn't feel as forced as other interactions.

To your relief, everyone continued with their things, while you ignored what they were talking about and continued eating breakfast, their talk became louder than usual, you frowned at this, deciding to listen lightly to the conversation, you froze when you remembered what they were talking about, the Kyoto school exchange, even though you didn't sign up for that stupid ceremony, as a student you had to, at the very least, be present, but you knew that a large concentration of sorcerers would only cause you more problems than solutions.

You knew why Megumi seemed so tense when the other students showed up, they didn't seem to have a very friendly relationship, they all seemed quite focused on the rivalry between high schools, which made you happy since the focus of attention wasn't on you, but rather in Itadori since he seemed to be targeted by the Kyoto school just for being Sukuna's vessel. The bad thing was that you had to stay in the teachers' room, with Gojo and a couple of other guys, the good thing was that you fell in love, Utahime was your spirit animal, definitely someone to admire just for her hatred of Gojo.

"So, why don't you want to compete? I can tell that you have quite a bit of accumulated cursed energy."

"Aww, meeting my favorite student? Well that's a delicate topic she doesn't-"

"I'm not talking to you, shut up."

You smiled internally when you saw Gojo's kicked dog expression, who didn't even let you talk to Utahime, she looked at you again, completely ignoring the albino's presence, it was, the first time since you arrived here that you felt like you were having a normal conversation with someone outside your life, someone disinterested in your protection, it was the most real interaction you had since then and it had to be ruined, not by Gojo, not by any student… curses, a planned attack, a lot of chaos was caused that you barely understood.

"Don't fight and don't try anything weird, although I'll know anyway, stay safe!"

It was the last thing Gojo said to you before leaving with the others to see what was happening outside, you couldn't have cared less about his words, and although locking you in your room was the main idea, your wires got crossed with your little sanity, if everyone was distracted by a greater evil you could use that to your advantage.

Since both sorcerers and curses were completely absorbed in their stupid fight, you used that to go outside, first it was a couple of meters, you didn't notice anyone, the capsule didn't stop you from leaving, so you walked further away, elated by your minimal achievement, you started running as fast as you could, reaching the busy streets of the city, smart enough not to go near the places Nanami frequented.

It had been a long time since your heart had been beating like this, so wild that you thought it might come out of your throat, you coughed for air once you stopped in a park, collapsing on the ground, you lied there, you laughed like a crazy person, some tears escaping of your eyes as you looked at the sky brighter than ever. You couldn't believe it, you were alone, with no one watching, you could feel all the positive emotions hitting you, there were so many sensations that you didn't know how to feel, but definitely much more relieved.

The smile on your face was indelible, you were happy, the world at this moment was painted in much more vibrant tones, the palette stopped being a constant tone of gray, you smiled at children, the elderly, you caressed animals, you bought a few flowers and then randomly give them to some people, completely in a bubble of happiness.

Although the bubble had to burst at some point, whether due to your subconscious or the pass of time, you knew that your sudden disappearance would only cause more of a stir, you wish you were left for dead, but you know those sons of bitches wouldn't have that in mind unless they saw your death with their own eyes or found your inert body.

Using your last moments of happiness, you decided to treat yourself to some of your favorite sweets, saying goodbye to the clerk who served you with one of your best smiles, you took the long way to the jujutsu high school, hoping to delay your reunion with your "loved ones" as long as possible.

"Stop there! Aren't you the missing girl? You've given us an incredible headache, come on, I'll take you back."

Someone you hadn't bothered to meet grabbed your wrist, pulling you without even waiting for you to react, analyzing her appearance, she was quite similar to Maki, maybe a family member.

"What a pity, sorry for the headache, but can you let me go? I know the way Maki number two."

At this moment the least you wanted was a confrontation, but your mood had not completely dropped, although now you were a little more upset than happy, your emotions overflowed, causing you to be a more sarcastic and sassy version of yourself.

Mai stopped instantly when she was called Maki number two, you had definitely found her weak spot, which turned into a passive-aggressive chat between the two of you, you would have been angry, but you couldn't be angry when you enjoyed the criticism you were giving each other, honestly it improved your day and you felt more human than before.

"Oh thank goodness you're fine! I thought those dirty curses had kidnapped you!"

Nobara didn't waste a second in hugging you as soon as she saw you, Itadori following her a second later, you assured them that you were okay not wanting everyone to crowd around you as the others also wanted to ask where you had been and why you disappeared when they were under stroke.

You drowned out the emotions you poured out during the day, swallowing everything, turning your expression blank as you felt Gojo's powerful gaze on you, everything calmed down for the next few minutes, the two schools finished the meeting and the Kyoto students left, before that you decided to exchange phones with Utahime.

Once you got rid of your companions, you locked in your room, unlike many other nights, you threw yourself on the bed, grabbing a cushion and screaming as if you were one of those teenagers in love in those saccharine series, you moved your legs in the air by pressing the cushion tighter between your arms. Changing your posture, you looked up at the ceiling just like the night before, with the big difference that now you couldn't contain your emotions, you giggled, biting your lip lightly, not noticing the wound you got earlier.

You saw it, you saw light at the end of the tunnel, ─not that way of course─, you saw how a door opened before your eyes, a new opportunity to free yourself from the chains that kept you captive with all these psychopaths, experience freedom after so much time made you delirious, made you imagine that you could get rid of them, that they would leave you alone, even if it was risky, your only option was to escape, run away from everything and everyone without thinking twice, without thinking about what can happen in the future, you would give everything to re-experience what you felt today when you ran away.

You sighed dreamily as you remembered the feeling of freedom, closing your eyes, not worrying about whether you were going to be able to fall asleep today or have another boring game of chess, oblivious to the blue eyes that watched from your window.

"It seems like someone is in her rebellious stage, maybe she need some restrictions…"

He muttered, unhappy with your disobedience but excited to see you happy, he didn't think he would see it so soon, your smile was beautiful just the way it was and you decided to hide it like that for them? They were only worried about you, why did you have to keep all that to yourself? They wanted to be part of your happiness, couldn't you understand it? Well, they will make you understand it no matter what.

Once he made sure that your breathing was stable, he entered your room, kissed your forehead like every night, only this time he sat next to you, caressing your head slowly, observing how, even while asleep, your silly smile was still painted on your face, the flash of his phone made you frown slightly, but you didn't wake up.

"I hope you rest well today, I'm sorry for not helping you the night before, but if I had come in you would hate me more, wouldn't you?"

He said to himself, closing the door slowly, giving you one last look before leaving, he sent the photo to the group chat he had with his students, reviewing the last photos where any of the four were able to capture something more emotion than indifference. Just like you, the small display of emotions only opened another door for them, that small display of freedom for you and emotions for them, was simply another trigger for your problems, after all, the more you move, the more you get tangled in the web.

[whokilledjared]

the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself. (& takes on social media)

Hi.

I'm lonely.

The moment I got "two weeks off school" in sophomore year, life went to 4x speed & I can't turn it off no matter how hard I try.

Maybe COVID-19 adolescence did numbers on me. Somewhere between the iPhone 5c and ChatGPT, 14-hour screen times have live-streamed to me a steady, homogenous death of culture.

Nothing is cool anymore. Nothing is sacred. Every movement is a trend, and every cult classic a sequel.

The value we place on things being beautiful, on being "cool," and our gatekept appreciation of how hard these things were to find: it's been co-opted, or perhaps stolen. It's been stolen by the new merchant class. "Disruptors" and "innovators" turning our lives into a burgeoning black mirror prequel. Soon, we'll graduate too, and we'll wring every morsel of value in each others' lives dry for cash.

Plain and simple, I think we're being manipulated.

Your dates are an algorithm. Your music is a social signal. And Zuck knows when you sleep.*

God. What the fuck are we doing???

“Individuation is becoming the thing which is not the ego, and that is very strange.” — Carl Jung

Recently, I deleted Instagram. My first impulse was to post a story or something, announcing my departure. But then, I thought that would be lame.

I got rid of my account, too. Kinda. Over 1 year, over 800 followers removed, and what remains of me is a little grey icon, and "JM_0000000010" where my name and face used to be.

yay.

There were many people I wish I could have been friends with, but I wonder, too, why I find myself so drawn to the validation of others. Does social media affect me worse, or do we all just choose to ignore it, languishing in private?

At any rate, this last year has almost felt like re-learning how to be a human being.

Personally, I think one of the biggest markers for maturity is when you become willing to disappoint the people you know in favor of what feels right to you, when you start to unravel the stories you’ve told yourself (or been told) about who you are and what you should be. In short, the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself.

And sometimes, I think about every college student that has ever lived. My grandmother, my dad, and so on. Just consider for a moment all kids who graduated before 2010:

What was it like for the ones in 1940? To walk around, before a campus had computers? In 2006: To meet someone pretty, but forget their number? In 1999: To cram into dorms, and watch Seinfeld live on-air?

Would I, like my dad in 1988, have braved cold night, brisk wind, & landline phone-call just to knock and see if my friends were too busy to hang?

What stories could I tell if there was even the slightest chance of getting lost on the way home from a party?

Humans are social creatures. We crave our friends like water. To me, the clearest difference between Dasani and Instagram is that one of them comes in a bottle.

Yet despite these distractions and comforts we have in 2024, somehow, we still have engineering students. People who carve out time in their day to sit down, look at paper, and solve differential equations. But then, that's not so hard, is it? It just takes time. Precious, fucking, time.

At Meta, leagues and leagues of these engineers power behavioral scientists, who are competing for the highest salary. Their benchmarks? Your FOMO. Guilt. Anxiety. Obsession. The worse you feel, the more you engage with their content. The more you engage with their content, well, you're starting to get the point.

Try something for me: Open up Instagram, but don't tap anything. What happens? How many little animations? How many tiny nudges prompting you to get lost? Our home-pages are billion-dollar diving boards, hoisting us over engineered catacombs of subconscious quicksand.

My homepage is my FOMO, my envy, and my crushes. The pain and struggle of trying to be someone who I am not. My little existential crises, bundled-up, packaged, and shipped with a like button.

To abandon your social networks entirely, however, requires a safety net of close friends. After all, your friends are online, and you'd be miserable without them.

This is the problem with our monkey brains. Millennia of sociological natural-selection have made us quite great at feeling terrible. We're damn good at making tribal status games to play with, too.

Seeking refuge in quirked up septum piercings and boygenius listeners, my time in counter-cultural, alternative "scenes" between St. Louis and Tampa has shown me that even the weirdest of folks and the most removed can accidentally find themselves reduced to nothing more than high-school popularity contests. Even if I love them. Even if they're amazing people. We're human.

We can't "quit social media" as much as we can't "quit bottled water" Sure, we can, but it's inconvenient. And even without a bottle, we're still drinking water.

So I lost touch with my friends. I got no new updates on their lives. I forced myself into the inconvenience of not having a phone to reach for in fleeting moments of boredom. Suddenly, I was out of the loop. Suddenly, I was bored. And suddenly, nobody missed me. My only friends were the ones I had the time to text. Everyone else ... does not exist.

Weekends have become more valuable than ever. Without the empty social calories of seeing my friends' pictures, I find myself planning hangouts as often as my schedule allows. I have more lunches, more study sessions, and more is done in the company of less.

And I have the time to breathe.

And in this calm, I think I found my answer: it's my misplaced ambition. These fears of anxiety and people I thought I would miss, they seem represent something I want to see more of within myself. Something I want to develop, lean into more deeply, as an individual. And I think that's quite normal; to look out into the world and feel attracted to things we want to see more of. This is, I think, how everyone develops their own definition of beauty — and of coolness. It's largely the intersection of what we find most interesting, and what we want to see more of in the world. Because beauty and coolness, by definition, are rare and hard to find. If they were everywhere, nothing be beautiful, nor would anything be cool.

When we all turn into wrinkles and cataracts, bad backs and heart attacks, for a brief, glorious moment, our lives are going to flash before our eyes. In this moment, you'll see your story. The ultimate progression of you.

How much of that will be skibidi toilet and reaction clips? How much of that will be arguing on the internet? Can you tell me, just how much of your life will you have skipped over to pacify your intentionally-lowered attention span?

That girl whose number you couldn't find Those passing questions over coffee that you couldn't search on Google The boredom of a subway ride

Those are not inconveniences, they're what the older generations refer to as "life."

* (oh, but if you can't sleep, consider this aside: Google knows the angle you walk at, how fast you're walking, and they've got crowdsourced pictures of everywhere around you at all times of the day. fun bedtime thoughts <3)

[c1oud999]

hi

i just wanted to come on here and talk about my experience with spirituality. warning: longggg post ahead.

basically ive been in the spiritual community for YEARS now. ive had existential crisis since the age of 11 and ive gone through many phases of many different spiritual trends. from law of attraction, to witchcraft, to religious devotion, to law of assumption and now finally non dualism. i read books, meditated for hours and hours, talked to spiritual ppl from all walks of life and watched all the episodes of ganga upanishad (a show i still highly recommend, you can watch on youtube). all this childhood trauma and mental illness made me crave for sweet relief. but nothing really made sense until law of assumption. i thought that that would be it yk. i thought i was done searching but i think that was when i was searching for things the most. i do know i have it in my 4d, when will i see it? i thought i would get all my desires but did not meet success. and then the non dualism trend began and i hopped onto it like pretty much everyone else. i was bewildered at the stuff teachers kept saying. what do you mean everything's an illusion? there's no way that's true. my very real surroundings are causing me VERY real pain and suffering. oh no no there must be a deeper meaning behind all this. and so i read all the books in 4dbarbies drive, but nothing clicked. yes it made sense intellectually, but i didnt want to believe it bc where is the materialisation satisfaction here? also i felt none of the euphoria that was supposed to come with self realisation. which means i must not be a realised being. and then i cried and cried and cried, isolated myself, literally stopped going to school and just lay in bed all day. but ofc, i continued to read the tumblr posts like i had been doing for the past several years. and yesterday i read 4dkelly's post about giving up. it made sense. by the time i had finished reading the post i had truly given up on everything. on wanting, hoping, fearing, striving etc etc. i was SO tired. so i gave up. fell asleep. i woke up really late as usual and missed the school bus. i ate breakfast in silence, switched the tv on and lied down on the couch like always. and like always out of compulsion and force of habit i reached for my phone and looked up non dualism on twitter. and then i came across a tweet that said a simple sentence only- "nothing is ever actually happening." woah. that kinda drove me to the edge of the cliff i desperately wanted to jump off. i turned on some dnb background music and turned the shower on. i stood under the boiling hot water like some dramatic bitch and started piecing together the "puzzle". it all made so much sense now. i got out of the shower and left the house for the first time in months with a cute outfit and makeup on and everything. i went to the mall, bought candles, stickers, eye masks, coffee, and a doughnut with absolutely no social anxiety at all. i sat by window, read some poetry on my e-reader, cried, peered down at the floor below me and cried some more at the sight of little kids sitting on santa's lap and taking pictures and marveled at all the christmas decorations around me. it was insane. i decided i was going to be neutral towards everything but im in love. maddeningly so. in love with this dream that i thought did not love me back. but love is all there is. I AM ALL THERE IS. and i need you to take this literally. there is nothing happening. there is nothing here except you. nothing to fear, nothing to desire. ik a lot of people are going to dismiss this post because it's not a "materialisation success story" but i honestly dont think i can ever want anything physically bc in all its true essence, what is there to materialise? i am already whole and complete. i am lying on this cold hard floor, but i have never felt warmer. also ik there may be a lot of things ive written you might not agree with but again, this is NOT REAL. I AM. i hope this post helps you.

thank you to all the blogs ive come across and all the pointers they have shared: @se1f @realisophie @itgomyway @4dkellysworld @4dbarbie-backup @infiniteko @iamthat-iam and many more i cannot thank enough.

lots and lots of love (more than you can ever imagine), and good luck.

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

HLC REACT TO FINDING OUT THEY'RE IN A VIDEO GAME

A/N: Inspired by The Amazing Digital Circus! Existential dread for everyone!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

WARNING: ANGST, existentialism, panic attacks, anxiety

MC and their favorite companion were battling goblins when it happened. A red barrel chain reaction had debris and enemies flying and the companion was caught in the collision crossfire. They hit a rock at just a weird enough angle that their body started ragdolling out of control. They spun and twisted out of sight and before they could process what was happening, they were falling.

Falling...

Falling...

The world above vanished. They landed hard on flat ground, the wind knocked out of them. Upon eventually standing, they found themselves in some sort of corridor. Gridded walls too high to see over opened to darkness above. There was no sight or sound of MC or goblins or trees or birds or....anything.

Tentatively, they called out. Their voice was swallowed by the opressive silence. They tried their wand. Nothing happened. So they walked the seemingly endless blank corridor until they came to an opening.

A massive room filled with statues. Some tall, some short, some human, some not. The companion gets closer, then freezes. These weren't statues. They were people and beasts and objects they recognized, all standing perfectly still in neat little rows like chess pieces.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He's staring into the blank eyes of his own sister. "Anne? What-...where am I? What is this place?" He frantically looks around, he sees teachers and students and shopkeepers and enemies and even his uncle. "Where are my parents?" He dashes through the rows of lifeless assets. "WHERE ARE THEY?" He screams, but no one answers.

He comes to the sudden realization that he's searching for faces he doesn't know. He doesn't know what they look like. He's mentioned his parents, he's missed his parents, he's mourned his parents, HOW COULD HE NOT KNOW WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE??

He falls to the ground in a heap. "They're real. I know they're real. I'm real. They're real. This is some curse. I'm dreaming." He starts hyperventilating. "SOMEONE WAKE ME UP!! PLEASE!!"

OMINIS GAUNT: The sudden silence of his surroundings scares him more than the chaos of battle ever has. "MC? Hello? Where are you?" He tries to guide himself along with his wand but it won't activate. He finds the smooth, glass-like wall and follows it.

He finds the opening and runs face first into what feels like a person. "Oh, thank Merlin. Can you help me? I don't know where I am. I'm blind, you see...hello?" He feels the person's arm. They're stiff and cold like the dead yet standing upright. "What?" He reaches out and finds another person, then another and another. All the same.

The silence in the darkness made his breath feel heavy. Wherever he was, felt wrong. Was he dead? Is this what dying felt like? Was this all there was beyond the world he knew? Was this the fate that awaited everyone or just him? Destined to suffer in spaces unknown with no guide and no familiar presence?

He sat down and curled his knees to his chest. His mind spun with questions as his surroundings felt less and less real. Was he even real?

ANNE SALLOW: She covered her mouth in shock. Slowly, she turned in place to take in all the things she thought she knew were real lifelessly staring back at her. She stared at herself the longest. Her life, her memories, her pain....none of it was real. Her suffering didn't matter. She was a pawn. A plot device.

She keeled over and vomited. She coughed and blinked the tears out of her eye to watch what came out of her started to pixelate and vanish. She stared wide eyed at the ground and started to shake. "I'm...real." her voice weak in the oversized room. "I'm. Real. I AM real." She threw her head up and screamed into the void above. "I'M REAL!" She glared defiantly upward into nothingness. She didn't know who she was shouting to, but she hoped they heard.

IMELDA REYES: Her dreams, her aspirations, her future... There was no life beyond Hogwarts. Everything in this room was all that existed. The world was just an amalgamation to be constructed and deconstructed at will. She wasn't special, she didn't matter, she was just another piece.

She had never bothered to think about it much before, but what mattered to her outside of brooms and racing? Did she have other genuine interests? Did she know who she was?

She laughs. A cold, humorless laugh echoes out of her. Nothing mattered. Nothing ever mattered. What was even the point of this confined existence? Who would want to be stuck in a singular place constantly at war? Who would be mad enough to think this is an existence worth creating? She laughs. Laughs until she cries. Laughs into the endless silence. Laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs....

NATSAI ONAI: She sees everyone except MC. Where were they? Why weren't they in the crowd? "MC!? MC!! CAN YOU HEAR ME??" With no response, she goes to her mother's asset. Even her own mother wasn't real.

Is this why she could never remember the faces of the bandits who killed her father? She always thought it was a memory blackout from trauma. No...it never happened. Matibililand didn't exist. Her home didn't exist.

She sat at her mother's feet and stared at the ground. Her mind couldn't handle the stress and she disassociated. She was as blank and still as the assets surrounding her.

GARRETH WEASLEY: "This isn't happening. This can't really be happening." He stared at his aunt. Her asset blankly stared back. His aunt wasn't real. The professors weren't real. The students weren't real. The dark wizards weren't real. Was Hogwarts even real? Was he??

"THIS ISN'T REAL! I WON'T FALL FOR YOUR TRICKS!" He shouts at no one. He had to believe that this was some sort of hallucination. He could feel. He could think. He was real. He had to be.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he cried out. "LET ME OUT! DO YOU HEAR ME!? LET ME OUT!! ...please..." He hiccuped and wiped his face. "Please .."

LEANDER PREWETT: He fearfully stayed away from the statued people as if they would come alive at any moment. He was too afraid to call out and hid around the corner. Without his wand, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know where he was or how he got there. He felt truly powerless and vulnerable. He'd never felt so small in his life.

His mind refused to accept that this was happening and refused to process the familiar faces. This had to be some sort of dark wizard trick. This couldn't really be happening. Ironically, he refused to play their game. He walked off into the darkness. The corridors had to lead somewhere eventually.

POPPY SWEETING: The missing person that stood out to her was her gran. The most important person in her life, and yet... Where was she? What did she look like? Oh gods, what did she look like?? She grasped the sides of her head as she thought as hard as she could to remember. Her gran's face and voice and home were a blur.

AMIT THAKKAR: He quietly walked through the rows, stopping in front of himself. He looked within himself. He had been so focused on "studies" that he never really thought about his past. Who was he? Where was he from? Who was his family? What were they like?

He had no past. Down here he had no present. Did he ever have a future? Were the stars he looked up to at night even real? He doesn't know how to react. Mental numbness washes over him. He stares emptily at himself for a, long time.

EVERETT CLOPTON: "What is Merlin's name?" He looked around, utterly confused. The reality of his situation didn't hit him immediately as his Ravenclaw logic took over to try and find a way out. He found some brooms, but none of them worked. They just flopped over like a pile of sticks. No wand he tried using worked. No matter how many times he tried poking or prodding any of the people, nobody moved.

He tried running. He charged down a dark corridor only to eventually end up back in the asset room. He tried another corridor, but it too looped around back to where he was. That is when he started to panic.

"There's no way out!" His breaths came quick and shallow. "There's no way out!! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP ME!" He felt light headed and stumbled to the ground in front of himself. He looked up from his hands and knees. "WHO ARE YOU!?"

She tried to remember farther back; her parents, her childhood! Nothing... No assets were ever created. They weren't real people. Just a page in her backstory. The trauma, the loneliness, the heartache..... None of it really mattered. She didn't matter.

She stood amongst the assets, crying silently. Wherever she was, she wouldn't be found. None would be looking for her. She didn't really exist.

~~~

YOU: Your companion disappeared. Things sometimes get a little glitchy with the companion mod. Looks like you'll have to restart from your last save. No big deal. After all, it's just a game.

[aduckinpain]

The Sunset clashes on waves of Cobalt

Tags: Character study style writing, Hurt/comfort, Happy Ending, Pure Soukoku, Everything in chronological order, Dazai Osamu's in character existential crisis, They're in love, Dazai's obsession with Chuuya's corruption, his obsession with chuuya honestly.

Word Count: 7.3k

This is also on AO3 by roianamustang (me).

Life is finicky. Evasive. Confusing. A fluke. Something, created from nearly nothing, by pure chance. It’s involuntary. You wake up one day, only to acknowledge your newly discovered existence by at least 2 years. Your lungs expand, your heart beats, your blood rushes, your ears hear and your eyes see. And your mind runs. It runs and runs, it runs out of breath. It searches for more, information flooding from every crevice.

Life is important, according to every living being. Even the most miniscule little creature will value it over anything else, whether that be by running, hiding or fighting. Even plants reach for the sun in hopes of waking up the next morning.

Dazai Osamu reached for the Sun when he was five and it burned. Leaving trails in its wake. 

Life is a continuous string of events that emerges by chance. It has variables so intricate, they can’t be calculated. Time, variety, coincidence. Fate. It starts unknown, and it ends the same.

Depending on where you live, people can live a healthy 80 years, and die peacefully in their bed, surrounded by loved ones. Yet, one lifetime is not enough.

We enter this world unwillingly, so why do we fight so hard for it?

Why are we so scared of death? Of the unknown?

How can you love life so much, that you fear the end of it?

What’s so unique about monotony and routines?

At the end of the day humans are mammals. Their ability to produce milk and have hair puts them in another category, while their capability of thought and intelligence, puts them in another rank. 

And still, our reason for living is to just not die. Survival, something every other creature on this earth, prioritizes.

So he doesn’t get it. 

Things can be pretty, things can be sacred, they can be fun, loving, but they are all temporary. Most of the emotions a human being feels in a lifetime are neutrality and anxiety, stress, fear, sadness, nostalgia and melancholy. Happiness and excitement, in its purest form are the rarest, with sudden entrances and premature disappearances. They’re hard to find, hard to replicate, hard to give. 

And at the end of it all, you die and everything is forgotten. You are a machine run by tubes and liquid that shuts off and that is it.

The world with all of its colors is bleak, the humans vary physically yet act similarly, predictably, and life dies.

But normal people don’t think like this. Normal people don’t stare at their ceiling willing themselves to drink water or eat food. Normal people don’t burn when others touch them. They don’t numb when their surroundings become too much. They don’t hate. 

They care and they love and they find meanings in everything.

Dazai doesn't.

Dazai hurts.

Why can’t he just be normal and meaningless and random and flitting and living and dead? 

Why can’t he be human?

What is he?

15 years of Dazai’s life have passed and he can confidently say that he has effectively erased his first 10 and blurred the last 5.

It all comes to a shocking halt, or more accurately, a start, when one moment he was walking in the empty, dusty streets of Suribachi City, with its secrets and rats, and the next he was…not?

Air escaped his lungs so fast, Dazai couldn’t even process the ever moving environment. 

Blink.

He blinked and he saw blue.

He blinked again, and he saw waves of cobalt crashing upon the sunset’s rays.

Or more realistically crashing into him.

A foot holding him down and the other kicking his face, Dazai Osamu breathed and felt air enter his blood for the first time since he was born.

The sun shone. 

And so did his eye.

His heart filled with oxygen. Beating steadily for the first time.

When Mori told him ‘Nothing dangerous’, he of course didn’t believe it. And looking at the bright red head of hair next to him, so tiny, so miniscule, so small, compact, microscopi-

“The fuck you looking at?”

Blue turned to him, glaringly darker and in the background he was very aware of the noise leaving its mouth. 

He just didn’t care to listen.

Nakahara Chuuya. 15 years old and yet, here he stood. The leader of The Sheep. So loud. So present in such a small body, as if it couldn’t contain him. As if it held death and destruction, and life.

Even by Dazai’s own standards, he wasn’t stupid. Chuuya was dangerous. To what extent he’s not sure yet, still willing to push some more buttons, to see some more outcomes, but still at the very least, he is very strong. And while he would love to pester Mori about this sudden mission, something was holding him back.

The next thing Dazai knows the gun is getting kicked out of his hand.

Blink.

And another blink. His eye captures life and Dazai Osamu jerks in its hold.

‘In other words, the suicidal maniac wants to live.’

‘I’ve come to think its worth trying.’

Because of you was left unspoken and yet to be understood by either one of them.

With Randou dead, Dazai had already started putting other plans in motion. 

Nakahara Chuuya lost a bet after all, he now needed to pay the price.

Looking at him now, on top of rocks, rubble around him, water rising and waves crashing, never getting close to that blue of his, breath stuttering, eyes hurt. 

Dazai had never seen something more human.

He wanted that.

He wanted Chuuya.

Dazai wanted Chuuya.

Odasaku was quiet. As a man yes, but also as a presence. Odasaku was a blank slate willing to hand you the pen, write on him and react accordingly. He did not uphold expectations or even judgment. 

Dazai liked Odasaku. 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend to sleep with the man’s presence next to him.

Odasaku listened and answered in seemingly normal replies that sometimes caught Dazai by surprise. So when he had ranted about Nakahara Chuuya to him the last thing he had expected was the man to say that ‘Nakahara seems like a nice guy then yeah?’. 

A small moment of quiet had made Oda turn, locking eyes with the fifteen year old. 

And he halted.

Dazai made some sort of noise of surprise and frustration and went through another round of ranting, screeching, he wasn’t sure at this point, all of it to properly make Odasaku understand the vile creature he had been stuck with babysitting.

He could keep yapping all he wanted, cause Oda Sakunosuke had never in his life met a kid like Dazai Osamu. 

And until now, Oda Sakunosuke had never seen that singular brown orb turn caramel with light. 

He had never seen Dazai Osamu look so alive before. 

Smiling, he continued listening to the annoyed voice of the boy next to him.

Seemingly out of spite, in Dazai’s eye at least, Odasaku, very out of character just replied with an outrageous statement that Dazai could not allow to even exist, never mind be thought, even worse be stated to the air surrounding him.

‘You really like this guy huh?’

And the cycle repeated.

As it would for the next 3 years.

Arahabaki, the lab, the Flags, Verlaine. If he couldn’t have a break, he can’t imagine what it is like for Chuuya. Well, if he cared enough in the first place.

Dazai is a notorious liar. He knows that, after all, he did perfect the skill on his own. However, in this moment, after all of these fights and new revelations, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t just tired. Having to deal with Verlaine’s corruption activation and planning for counter attacks was a new challenge, yes, but one he would have enjoyed more if his dog wouldn’t be the center of them in the first place.

If Dazai was tired, Chuuya was exhausted. 

And grieving.

He’d watched Chuuya fight, watched him anger, rage. But after the Sheep, he didn’t think he’d ever watch him break.

Following the beeping red light of his tracker, that he'd placed in Chuuya’s shoes, of course without his knowledge, the last thing he had expected was to be led to the Mafia’s transportation unit. 

Walking in, the echo of the weird fancy shoes that were given to him collided with the walls of the garage. The lights flickered in certain spots, almost as if on purpose.

It was so quiet, he’d imagine that if a feather fell, it would still be heard. 

Which is what confused him.

Nakahara Chuuya was not a quiet person. He was loud, deafening and present at all times. Everything he did was flashy, deliberately or not. 

‘Finding Chuuya is always easy. If you head towards whatever is making the loudest noise, he’ll be there.’

So either his tracker:

a) didn’t work

b) was found and eaten by his dog

Or

c) Chuuya was like dying or something.

The echo halted along with every other noise when he stepped into the small side room. 

He blinked again. Life was flickering.

Anything. 

He would do anything for it to be one of those options.

He would do anything just to have Chuuya rise to his feet.

He would do anything just to have him stop crying.

Dazai was frozen there. For the first time in a long while he felt powerless. He knew what to do when he was feeling this way but he’d never do those things to Chuuya.

Chuuya just stood there, sitting against an obnoxious pink motorcycle, heaving. 

And yet, he was quiet.

You could barely hear his breath stuttering, almost as if he just wanted the ground to swallow him whole, his existence to stop, to just disappear. He seemed so out of it, that he hadn’t even noticed Dazai just standing there.

Feeling his brain reboot, Dazai went to work. He’d treat this like a mission if he had to.

Chuuya liked touch. Not with just anyone no, however one of his main ways of expressing affection and care always seemed to be with vague caresses. Or punches.

But whenever Dazai got like this, he hated touch.

Brows furrowed in confusion, he tried racking his brain for a solution. He’d do both.

Making his steps loud and clear allowed him to be processed by Chuuya’s already small, but now hindered brain. Dazai took off his jacket and lowered to the ground, putting himself between the wall and Chuuya, taking off Chuuya’s hat and wrapping him head to toe. 

Chuuya had somehow gone even more quiet, and now he’d gotten tense. He can’t have that, so Dazai, for the first time in his life, hugged.

He closed his arms around the small frame and hoped.

A minute passed, maybe two, before he felt Chuuya deflate. He didn’t try to stop him from crying, that wouldn’t help, he just held him closer, allowing the weight of the smaller body to push him towards the wall behind his back.

The man- no the boy in his arms kept shaking and Dazai just didn’t know what to do. Reluctantly, scared to do anything wrong, he let his right hand rake through the now freed red locks and pushed his head closer to his own shoulder, this way Chuuya wouldn’t get even more tired.

A gasp of air, a gulp, a sharp intake and the words coming next broke Dazai’s already dead heart.

Why?

Why?

Why me?

What did I do?

I'm sorry. I’m sorry, I'm sorry, please just stop.

Because if Dazai had to name the most human person he’d met, he’d always say Chuuya.

If Dazai had to name the most raw showcase of human range, he’d always say Chuuya.

If Dazai had to name a person, he’d always say Chuuya.

Not your fault Chuuya, it never is.

He won’t hurt like this ever again.

Dazai will make sure of it. Nothing has the right to hurt his Chuuya like this, not even him.

Molten brown had turned dark and Dazai Osamu made a promise to himself.

He never made promises, they required you to stay alive.

But this one was the first one. 

The first one he’ll make sure to bring to his grave.

The entrance to Dazai’s office has a dark oak door, engraved with vines that curl on its edges. Its handle is typical Mafia gold. The office itself is nothing special, he made sure of it. Pristine, dark plates built his floor, almost mockingly, a carpet lay over them, right in the middle and a dark red Chesterfield sofa stood to the side of a small table. If he had to give it a color it would be deoxygenated blood. Or Corruption swirls. He certainly liked one more than the other. 

Today Mori sounded weird.

-er than usual.

Dazai makes a point to not use this office, but today it awaited him with a small stack of papers smack dab into the middle of his wooden empty desk. No pen in sight. This document wasn’t paperwork, it was information.

It would be ironic to say he had a bad feeling about it as some people would argue he’s got those all the time and they overwhelmed him. Some would argue he isn’t capable of feeling them in the first place. Both arguments are stated in late nights between missions and a very talkative red blob in his (read: Chuuya’s) apartment. 

Its quiet in this office, his shoes echo and he’s distinctly aware of the air around him colliding with his skin. A quick look around with his eye showed no signs of a trap.

Mimic.

A guerrilla organization from Europe that escaped to Japan after committing a war-crime sometime during the past global war. Mori wanted them dead. Or at least that’s what he said. But this apparent important information of a highly dangerous organization was not given to Soukoku.

No, it was given to the low-leveled grunt worker, Oda Sakunosuke. 

It was given to Odasaku.

Skimming through the documents, Dazai swiftly left the office.

He would never see it again.

Odasaku was quiet. As a man yes, but also as a presence. Odasaku was a blank slate willing to hand you the pen, write on him and react accordingly. He did not uphold expectations or even judgment. 

Dazai liked Odasaku. 

And at this point he could safely claim that new information had been updated in his Odasaku file.

Odasaku, throughout the years, cared for Dazai.

Now, Dazai cared for Odasaku.

The longest of nights, when he didn’t want a loud distraction or bloodied floors, he texted Oda. He would always answer, they’d meet up and they’d stay quiet. Just in the presence of the other. 

Dazai always felt safe and against his better judgment, understood by Chuuya, but being near Chuuya meant that at some point vulnerability would rear its ugly head, on those days Dazai just wanted a known space with a comforting presence. Odasaku was just that.

Chuuya was warm and bright and alive. He tethered Dazai to the concept of a human being. But sometimes Dazai just wanted an empty, fuzzy head. Sometimes the only exception of touch for Dazai was not what he wanted at the moment. So he searched for long nights and useless topics followed by silences and burning drinks or scalding curry.

Dazai found his constants for however many more years he’d survive this Earth.

The narrative was written and he felt content enough.

So why did the story change?

It had been a close call, a stroke of luck you could even call it, saving Odasaku in time the first time. And it has and will always be a lost cause convincing the man to kill instead of flee. 

It had been a close call, a stroke of luck you could even call it, saving Odasaku in time the second time. An extra wound added from Ango’s betrayal. 

If he could do it twice, what was a third time?

A bullet was shot. A body was falling.

So why were his hands warm? Why did they match the color of his sofa?

Why did it have to be Odasaku?

He found out about the kids but it was too late.

He found out about the motive but it was too late.

He figured out Mori’s plan.

It was too late.

You won’t find it.

Be on the side that saves people.

If both sides are the same, become a good man.

It’s pretty fady after that.

Contacting Ango was easy.

Burying Odasaku wasn’t.

Dazai Osamu, Demon Prodigy, youngest Port Mafia Executive, existed no more.

The only loose thread he had, was his other half on the other side of the world waiting to finish a mission.

He’d leave that thread sewn in.

He’d plant a bomb. 

He’d send a message.

He’d go into hiding for two years.

And for now, he’d live.

In the blink of an eye, Dazai Osamu had disappeared. 

People exist to save themselves.

A year and a half had already passed but it's not like Dazai had a concept of time anyways. The hiding and the erasure was easy. The boredom was not. Boredom brewed silences. Silences happened alone now. Being alone let his head be free. Or trapped he’d say, is the better description of it. 

It was raining today. Enough to keep the ground wet. Being in hiding didn’t really allow Dazai to wander but no one was looking for him under a lone tree, leaning on a gravestone in the middle of a field, so he let himself have this. 

He leaned his head on the stone. The rain wasn’t just heavy enough to keep the ground wet but also to drench him completely, but the sound of it was almost comforting in a way. The sky a uniform gray spanning into the horizon boringly, something it rarely does. 

The bomb had taken a bit to be processed by the slug’s brain, but it was successfully understood. For the first time in a while Dazai had reached out his hand first and let Chuuya make the decision. Contact would be hard, dangerous and almost non-existent, but he was willing to try. 

Of course after an even longer period of silence, because if Chuuya was one thing, it was petty.

So every now and then, on an anniversary or birthday, a mysterious little bouquet of Red Camellias would show up on the red head’s door.

A symbol of death yes, but that of a noble one. Sacred, godly. Left to the hands of a God of Calamity.

Unwavering loyalty.

Trust.

And every now and then, on an anniversary or birthday, something would be awaiting Dazai right next to the door. Whether that be a set or freshly rolled bandages or a gaming console.

A sigh left his lungs, uncovered irises following its trail disappear into thin air.

He got a soda before coming here, a funny joke he thinks Odasaku would chuckle with. Laughing just by yourself is just sad at this point.

S. Oda engraved in stone, buried in soil, clawing his head.

He’d use that as an excuse for the extra weight slipping from his eyes. 

Beige felt weird on him. It had been Odasaku’s signature color and Dazai was wearing it in tribute to that but it felt weird on him. 

Nevertheless, this wasn’t about him.

He climbed the stairs of a fairly new Detective Agency. He could almost feel the nerves, if he’d let himself feel in the first place.

The door opened almost dramatically, and the sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the nearly white tiles. 

“You’re here.”

Before him stood an older man with horrifically gray hair. The Boss of this thing then. Coffee brown eyes took in everything around him. There were three more people there.

A man sat behind a desk with curiously shut eyes and an insane amount of candy lay in front of him. That one was dangerous, he knew things and knew that Dazai knew he knew things.

A woman stood by the side of what looked like to be the inside of an infirmary, he knew of Yosano, or more accurately, of the consequences of her existence.

The most normal one of all had to be this one blonde man who looked like he’d blow a fuse if something didn’t go his way. Perfect, he’d need one of those.

Blinking for a moment, Dazai almost went into autopilot.

This would be different.

Everything Dazai did was deliberate. The only thing that could either act exactly according to his plan or be entirely unpredictable comes in the form of a small, small, horribly dressed, fancy street magician with a choker, that is currently walking, very loudly down the Port Mafia’s basement stairs. 

And oh, did Dazai miss this. 

Sure, during his hiding he may have gone once or twice to look at the slumbering, probably drunk at the time, man in front of him. But seeing Chuuya Nakahara subdued by slumber is like missing the Sun behind dark thick clouds. 

Chuuya spoke and he answered on instinct mostly. A knife at his throat and Dazai Osamu hadn’t felt alive in years with no contact from blue hues. 

A punch, a kick, the ground crumbled beneath his feet, Dazai didn’t care he was just about ready to kneel at this point. 

A sharp movement from the man in front of him made him pause. That was as much as a question, statement and reminder Chuuya would give him. This was Port Mafia territory, the hand holding the deck here was Mori.

They snapped back into their roles quickly, but he just couldn’t resist making that joke.

And if he saw Chuuya smile while climbing the stairs he can’t say, because for the first time in 4 years Dazai Osamu laughed and his heart started beating again.

Contrary to popular belief, Dazai didn't mind kids. In fact they always seemed increasingly intrigued by his presence. Odasaku’s orphans seemed absolutely delighted when he showed up.

Yumeno Kyusaku, better known as ‘Q’, was honestly not any different. Dazai had recruited them, finding resemblance to his own situation and past. 

However Q was not Dazai. They were just a kid. A small child with an incredibly dangerous ability and puppeteer, being pulled from one direction to the other only to be returned to a cold, desolate room at the end of the day, alone.

So to be completely honest, he didn't mind this mission. Or at the very least, he didn’t mind this mission’s goal. The variables needed for it to succeed however, were not, as you would say, one of his greater fortés. Technically it was his greatest.

Heavy, determined, meaningful footsteps fell into silence on his left side. A flash of red, contrasted by dark, gloomy clothes, stood beside him, calm.

Who's he kidding? Since when was Chuuya ever quiet, nevertheless calm. Well, towards him anyways.

“Are we just gonna stare at the door and wither away, or should we get a move on already?” Glaring blues had turned toward him. He could always feel their presence.

Dazai had no interest indulging a loud, yapping dog, so with an exaggerated sigh and some kind words exclaimed, that definitely did not have him nearly lose an arm and a leg, they entered the weird cottage-house-situation-thing.

Their steps immediately fall into sync and echo throughout the empty walls, while Dazai's heart sang and asked and wanted. 

4 years of quiet actions and no contact, the yearning reaching every crevice of his mind at every second. One meeting and a truce and comfort had finally arrived at his doorstep, again. 

As he, of course, sidestepped a kick aimed at his head.

Glancing slightly to his side, even the bland stone walls seemed to shine and sparkle. Banter jumped off each stair along with them.

“The only thing I like about you is your taste in shoes.” A slight pause and the other pair of steps stood still for a second.

“You think?” Was said sarcastically with a slight shine of hope hidden underneath it, as if anything would change in these 4 years. 

“Just kidding, of course.” Before even finishing the sentence, a crash and a yell were heard. Giggles collided with the surrounding bricks. 

They were Soukoku after all, they knew each other from the inside out.

Whatever this thing was, it definitely was not human. It didn’t even seem made. Every limb, or more accurately, goo, that was cut off would regenerate in seconds. So while Chuuya was doing his job as the brawn of the duo, Dazai, as the brain, was supposed to be planning ahead.

But he was stuck.

Was this it?

The downfall of the deadliest duo in Yokohama, possibly Japan, and in Dazai’s humble opinion, the World?

Had they changed so much?

He had two constants in life and one had already left him, he couldn’t lose this one.

As if sensing his turmoil, a slight kick to his feet made him blink rapidly. Turning towards the ginger he locked eyes with the annoyed glare decorating his face.

He could practically hear ‘Stop with the theatrics already’ with a small chihuahua animated right beside it.

Before he could get a full sentence out Dazai was slammed vigorously at the trunk of a tree. Vision whitening for a good second, his hearing quickly came back to the rushing footsteps and dare he say, panicked voice of Chuuya.

Coughing blood he slowly tried to rise up. “Those tentacles sure are strange.” Confusion showed itself on the shorter man’s face. “I can't disable them.”

“Bullshit. Is that even possible?” brows lifting upwards, Dazai could see Chuuya trying to grasp the situation.

The thing that works about Sokouku isn’t just the cards up their sleeves, Dazai’s capabilities and Chuuya’s prowess. No, it's more of this. Of looks being exchanged, the air between them still, no words to break it. It's this weird connection, that no matter how many times Dazai tried to replicate, run away from or find, it would lead back to a penthouse and blood money and his first reason to live.

Grinning in a way he hasn’t in a long time, Dazai could feel the adrenaline building up. “All right. Let’s do things the old way.”

Letting his eyes wonder about on the other man’s features, always searching, he asks. “How about Operation Shame and Toad?” A miniscule movement of the redhead’s left brow already had given his answer.

“What is this, Rain beyond the Window?” Chuuya put his hand on his hips, slightly leaning on one side. ”It’s more like The Lie of the Fake Flowers.”

Fond delight brewed in his chest, leaking when he could finally say the others name face to face after such a long time. “Chuuya, when have my tactics ever been wrong?

The fight went on for about 3 minutes and 49 seconds. A monster arose and so did a choice.

Whenever you ask that of me, it’s never really a choice.

Dazai watched with a bated breath as the other half of Double Black slowly slid down his gloves, letting them fall on the ground below. 

He thinks that if Chuuya had at least hesitated, let himself have a moment, Dazai would be just a normal man with a normal reaction. 

4 years later and his partner’s blind trust towards him managed to sever his eyes and clutch his heart. He’d never manage to replicate the pure exhilarated feeling he gets near the man he's known since he was 15. 

As lines fell from soft lips, red markings started traveling up Chuuya’s face. 

O’ granters of dark disgrace,

need not wake me again

It seems that alongside Dazai, a god was awaiting for the same thing.

When Corruption was first triggered, they were dead men on a mission to the underworld. Two fifteen year olds with too much power and responsibility over their shoulder, in their hands, dripping over their head, falling down the tiles of the Port Mafia territory. They’d shaken hands with Death so many times already, ready to surrender to its clutches. But if there was one thing— one person who always seemed to look at Death in the eye and crumble its skull into pieces, it would be Chuuya.

It was beautiful.

The air around it came to a stop as if the man, the god, before him could change the direction of that and more with a flick of his wrist.

Destruction reigned a victor in the remains of anyone or anything that could gather the courage to go against it, most of them being oblivious men in insignificant organizations. Ignorance truly is bliss.

Blood dripped down onto the ground staining it, feeding it.

Mortality looked beautiful on Chuuya.

And it danced in between Dazai’s ropes of bandages.

Nakahara Chuuya was a phenomenon a normal man would witness once in his life before succumbing to death, and Dazai Osamu was blessed to have him on the tips of his fingers and in the depths of his withering soul.

Touching the floating man’s wrist shortly thereafter silenced the god, trapping it in its cage of human ribs and indomitable spirit.

Looking down at the man on his lap, Dazai allowed himself a moment of want, tracing down the nose bridge. It was honestly unfair, the lab didn’t have to make him pretty.

Slowly folding Chuuya’s coat and finding his stupid hat was slightly harder considering the state of the environment around them, but he managed as always. 

Now came the hard part. Throughout their time as a duo, any time Corruption was activated, Dazai had two jobs.

Save Chuuya and bring him home safely.

However after his defection from the Mafia, he couldn’t exactly do that, as it would be considered kidnapping.  

But he could wait a little bit more. Until he would hear Hirotsu’s men running towards the designated coordinates. 

So he let himself have this and if you asked him after two bottles of Sake and a night of no sleep, Dazai Osamu might admit that he missed Nakahara Chuuya.

One last stroke of his fingers on the other’s eyelids, feeling his long eyelashes beneath his fingertips and promises whispered in quiet ears, and Dazai left the forest.

He never made promises, they required you to stay alive.

But it seems he can’t seem to stop making them when a certain man slumbers rent free in his troubled mind. Strong and untouchable even amidst the chaos in his brain.

Dead Apple, the ADA, Fyodor, Shibusawa, Corruption.

Chuuya.

Chuuya.

Chuuya.

When was it ever not Chuuya?

A sharp pain flooded his senses, making Dazai cough the blood out of his mouth and open his eyes. A smile immediately followed. The view before him could rival centuries of human art.

‘You used Corruption, believing in me?

How beautiful.’

To anyone else, it would be insanity. 

Gigantic ability merging dragon shows up and renders every human with gifts useless. People flee and fight and die. 

In their case, Dazai sends a message and Chuuya, as always, understands.

No matter the encryption or the complexity of it, the choice was sent and explained and was always followed through.

Because who else would put the lives of a country on past intertwined hands and shared breaths?

Who else would see the afterlife and jump at it in pure trust that it would be fleeting?

Who else but Dazai and Chuuya.

Chuuya and Dazai.

Soukoku.

Double Black.

Scariest and strongest duo in Yokohama and possibly more.

One soul, two bodies.

One human, one not.

Depending on who you ask about it, they'd have conflicting answers, but in the end, it never mattered.

Brushing away the red locks from Chuuya’s face, Dazai looked at the sky and smiled.

The galloping of horses’ heels chips away at Dazai Osamu’s thoughts. The Decay of Angels with Fyodor at its head will always be a danger. To be fair to the demon, everything with him in the center of it would always be a danger to itself and others. 

After the Sacramental Bow Award was given to the agency, the greatest work they had had was 

Mushitarou Oguri and his Perfect Murder ability. The case had stumped Ranpo, even if it was for about 2 minutes, and had proven itself a challenge and an award. However the last words that Mushitarou guy said, more accurately screamed, at them had been ringing in Dazai’s and Ranpo’s heads.

‘The Detective Agency is about to get a huge job offer! Don’t accept it! If you do, it’ll be the end of the Agency! You hear me? Don’t you dare accept—’

A man had fallen into step next to him, watching the race. Dazai particularly hates small talk but he’d learned to act a long time ago. 

Not just that but something was off.

In the blink of an eye and a twitch of a smile,

‘You won’t have tomorrow, former Port Mafia Executive, Dazai Osamu.’

Meursault Prison opened its doors and the Detective Agency plunged to its doom.

The Agency was framed and named a terrorist organization. That wasn’t the worst of it either, from what Ango had informed him, the world had seen the whole thing. On live television.

They had seen the execution of more than 10 political figures, their bodies cut right in half. A rising reputation had changed at the drop of a hat. 

Sighing deeply, he couldn’t help but think that he still had it worse than the others. Turning his head towards his left, he locked eyes with the thing across his cell. Fyodor Dostoevsky stood there, a permanent, horrendous smile on his disgusting face.

Honestly, he couldn’t wait for Chuuya.

Dazai’s big secret to communicating with the outside world was, ironically, his heart. His immediate point of contact was , as always, Ango Sakaguchi. 

When he was 15, one bright, sunny day, Dazai was bored. When tinkering around Mori’s office and bothering said man, did not bring him any more joy, he let himself bend over one of the many tables filled with medicine. Purple orbs flickered towards him for a moment, before a small, in Dazai’s opinion and many others, repulsing, smile showed on the face of its beholder.

Morse code was old news and bored thoughts to Dazai, but a new option was introduced.

With this in mind, when the vampire outbreak broke, Dazai was one of the first people to find out. 

Leaning on the small table, blinking, can only do so much for a grown man. “Maybe it’s time to do the thing.”

“The thing?” The thump of the book closing would’ve echoed if they weren’t in an ability protected prison.

Before Dazai could fully explain his, obviously, genius plan, the ground opened and swallowed him whole.

Literally.

Breathe in, breathe out, expand, contract, pump. Silence is noisy, until your vision sees bright flashing lights and your ears hear loud, blaring alarms.

Warning! Warning!

Intruder in the Level One Delivery Bay!

Anti-Gifted Fast Response Squad Hecatoncheires has been eliminated!

Neither the poison in his blood, nor the commotion on the outside managed to increase Dazai’s beats per minute. 

The shaking of the building and Fyodor’s smile didn’t manage to either. 

The sight of bright red locks did.

An angel whispered in my ear.

‘Chuuya, it looks like this is goodbye.’

As if. If that ever happened, they’d both be gone. 

‘It’s a shame it had to happen this way.’

It’ll never happen like this. Not on his watch.

‘It’s been seven years since we met. ‘

Feels like forever. It’ll always feel like that when Dazai started living on that very same day they met.

‘We never did get along, did we?’

Bullshit and they both know it.

‘But, come to think of it now, there were times where we understood each other.’

Every day, every hour, minute, second. Dazai’s lungs breathed the same air as Chuuya's on the chance that he could always be engulfed by his presence.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything Anyway… Goodbye!’

It was getting a bit too gay anyways. Even by his own standards.

Breaking bones hurt. Walking hurt. A bullet in your shoulder hurt.

Everything hurt. Dazai hates pain.

The tapping of fancy dress shoes were not lost in his delayed, post-blood lost brain.

A sigh slipped out before he managed to catch it, but if Dazai was one thing, he was but a yapper at heart.

This has to finish soon anyway, that horrid misty red did nothing to Chuuya’s composition. 

Blue was nice, he missed blue.

A bang ricocheted off the prison walls and Dazai’s head fell.

Power of friendship his ass. It was more on the realm of homosexuality.

From then on things happened slightly in a blur. Sigma was still asleep, Fyodor was a fresh smoothie, Gogol, or whatever his name was, was gay, he guessed.

And Chuuya was fine. He had taken off those horrendous contact lenses and was currently trying to pull out the fake teeth Dazai gave him.

Should’ve known better than to use the glue in the box, as it was insanely easy to exchange for a stronger, not water soluble glue.

But now Dazai was tired. So, so tired. So he let himself be caught by unrelenting, familiar arms and he closed his eyes.

Life is finicky. Evasive. Confusing. A fluke. Something, created from nearly nothing, by pure chance. It’s involuntary.

Life is important, according to every living being. 

We enter this world unwillingly, yet we fight so hard for it.

And at the end of it all, you die and everything is forgotten. You are a machine run by tubes and liquid that shuts off and that is it.

But is it really that easy?

Human beings' evolution stemmed from the ability to be conscious and aware of the fact that they are alive. Because in reality we are not just a machine run by tubes and liquids. We feel too much and think too little and live too hard.

We fight for survival to the point where we start thinking, is it worth it?

But normal people don’t think like this. Normal people don’t stare at their ceiling willing themselves to drink water or eat food. Normal people don’t burn when others touch them. They don’t numb when their surroundings become too much. They don’t hate. 

They care and they love and they find meanings in everything.

And so does Dazai.

It took him a bit. It took him actually trying to see, that he does.

Why can’t he just be normal and meaningless and random and flitting and living and dead? 

But he is. Isn’t he?

Why can’t he be human?

What is he?

What else can a creature with this much awareness, curiosity and confusion be?

Nothing really changed, not really. He just gained experience. And lost some.

Walking turned out to be harder than you remembered when one of your legs is utterly fucked. 

Left.

Right. 

Left.

Right. 

Slip.

Hold.

Or at least try to. Close your eyes, brace for impact. A well-oiled machine of repetition. 

He’s used to that, after all the human body learns ways to cope everyday.

Before Dazai’s face kissed the broken tiles of the prison, he was…..floating?

A singular brown orb slowly opened taking in the environment around him. His head felt fuzzy.

Gray tiles turned to smithereens contrasted expensive inky shoes. Following the line of, admittedly, short legs, the puke green jacket emerged forth an expression of disgust on his own face. It reminded him of stupid, white fluffy animals and bloody betrayals. 

Before he managed to follow the tendril of red laying on a shoulder, a black glove shoved itself on his face. On instinct he opened his left eye and followed the trailing finger currently smoothing the space between his eyebrows.

“You look incredibly stupid right now.” Snapping his eyes to the source of the voice Dazai blinked.

When no answer was exclaimed, a tilt of the head was translated and understood by both parties. Chuuya let him take it in for a bit, as he was now stupidly aware of everything. Almost as if he knew it before Dazai’s own body, the gloved hand pressed itself again. 

A scarlet eyebrow arose and Dazai blinked in approval. The hand previously holding his expressions hostage snapped. Ow echoed through the prison walls, a pout quickly forming.

Rolling his eyes, Chuuya quickly, almost instinctively started pulling him on his back. “Oh shut up, you big baby.”

“But Chuuya, you would dare hurt an injured hero!”

Blah, blah, blah.

Dazai couldn’t tell what that conversation was for the life of him but he doesn’t need to, not with Chuuya. On his best attempt to be conspicuous he put his face on the shorter man’s junction between his shoulder and neck, and slowly rubbed against it, a small smile emerging. Somehow even though the ginger went through each horrendous trial that he did, he could smell the insanely expensive products he used on his hair. Closing his eyes Dazai felt the rhythmic sound of each step, allowing himself to be safe in the only place he’s ever been. Before succumbing to slumber he felt a reassuring squeeze on his thighs.

And if another pair of lips stretched to accommodate a small smile in return, that was only for Chuuya to know.

Let’s go home.

The sun stretched languidly, filtering itself through the curtains of a penthouse. Its walls built on blood money and memories and two people, awake, aware and human.

Tangled limbs transacted warmth as Dazai felt his awaken. Arms coiled around his head blocking any sound the city could make, while fingers thread through his hair. If he closed his eyes now, he’d just fall back asleep. Clenching his own arms reminded him of the human shaped lump engrained on his person. Small puffs of breath slightly hit his head from above. His head was so quiet. His heart calm. This time Dazai didn't burn.

A small pull on his hair made him turn to one side, letting himself gaze at the view before him. It was truly unfair that something so small could be this pretty. 

Almost as if sensing his train of thought, another slightly stronger pull tugged his head back.  He let himself be the picture of innocence, all big honeyed eyes and pouting lips. His own mirrored blues squinted slightly and the man under him scoffed. 

The next time safe hands touched him, they pulled him towards warm skies and melted ice. Softened lips met his chapped ones and they lingered there for a while. The time for frantic breaths and sharpened moves passed when they were young and fearful, and may return in scattered forms in the future, but not today.

Angled forms and the slide of lips and shared sighs were a dance form they’d perfected the second they locked eyes. A hand pulled on Dazai’s neck and he let go.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that there was one absolute in this universe. One absolute that transcended human perception of science and the world.

Where there was Chuuya there’d be Dazai.

Where there was a Dazai there’d be Chuuya.

And so, the clouds glide, the winds hollow, flowers awaken and sleep, opening their petals, and people go about their day, exchanging words for carbon dioxide and laughs for oxygen.

And so, two human beings entangle through the most intimate ways human beings can. Existing next to each other through memories and unknown futures.

One coin, two sides. 

One soul, two people.

A house merged with safety and turned into a home. A home moved and grew legs and a heart and a brain and red locks and cobalt eyes and strong arms and Dazai walked in and never left.

Odasaku would be proud.

Odasaku is proud.

-End-

I will be writing my analysis on some of the things that may be confusing:

Any time Dazai's eyes are mentioned as singular or plural is deliberate. I am referencing his time in the mafia and his obscured view of the world.

Any repetition of sentences or paragraphs is also deliberate an example being Odasaku's description and most importantly, the beginning and the ending of the fic.

I have not yet read Stormbringer, however I have severely spoiled myself. That is why I only briefly caught onto its story and focused more on its consequences.

‘Finding Chuuya is always easy. If you head towards whatever is making the loudest noise, he’ll be there.’ is a quote Dazai used in the light novels.

Promises are extremely important as it shows Dazai on the cusp of finding a reason to live.

In the prison Dazai communicated with morse code by controlling his heartbeat.

When walking in the prison I wrote Slip after he took his right step and his next step would've been his left, which was broken.

Dazai's unknown origins have convinced me that he at the very least was abused by Mori, if not his parents. When I write 'Close your eyes, brace for impact. A well-oiled machine of repetition. He’s used to that, after all the human body learns ways to cope everyday.', I mean it as him flinching and expecting the pain.

Stupid white animals and bloody betrayals means The Sheep, as Chuuya's jacket when he showed up in the prison was nearly identical to the one where he was 15.

It was not my intention to insinuate sex at the end but I don't see why it can't be, so when I say entangelment of limb in the most intimate way humans can, it is up to you to decide.

The end is closure on Dazai's end with Odasaku, but if you want and believe so also Odasaku's spirit.

The title 'The Sunset clashes on waves of Cobalt' Is just Chuuya. His hair clashing with his eyes. Blue is also Dazai's color.

Soukoku have unironically probably kept me alive in certain moments, so I've always wanted to write for them, however I needed it to be at least good. Hopefully this is that.

As for my other fic about them, I am planning on rewriting it as it's honestly so, in kinder words, satisfactory to the way I write now.

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot if I managed to get some reposts, comments or likes!

If you like this, I have written more stories that can be found on my main masterlist. Including: Soukoku, Moon knight, Formula 1 Lestappen, Landoscar with more to come. If it manages to spark your interest, please go support those as well!

[mama-vaggie]

We want to make an official "statement" here. We know we've been inconsistent on our mental health issues, specifically on whether or not we are a system. But we've come to a conclusion and feel that sharing would be best for our own sake, as well as to clear up confusion and concern.

Some of us think we are a system...some are vehemently convinced that we're not....but we're gonna try to embrace systemhood and openly talk about "being a system" in the appropriate spaces.

I know this may not be a big deal to most, but we woke up in an existential crisis over it, so we think it's time to just wholly process it and see if embracing systemhood helps us. I want to make others aware of it because I have always been so inconsistent over whether I am a system or not, and I worry that if I don't formally put it out there somewhere, others may accuse me of faking it or trying to "copy" the DID/OSDD community.

I think I'd like to put this out there however- while we have no DID or OSDD diagnosis, we have severe trauma, some psychosis, and dissociation that has been recognized in a clinical setting. If it's those diagnoses, an advanced form of MADD, or an unspecified dissociation disorder is yet to be seen.

I am sure I am just overreacting, however I have huge anxieties over this whole thing and am terrified of others' reactions. I do NOT want to be accused of being an endo or getting fakeclaimed. The thought terrifies me. Please if you have questions or concerns, just ask. Don't start rumors. Please don't feel unkind. I'm scared enough as it is.

Lastly....the Mama-Vaggie blog will be on intermittent hiatus. Vaggie just doesn't appear often lately, and forcing ourselves to act like her hurts. I'm really, really sorry. Feel free to hang out with me on the Discord server though.

[edzephyr]

Hi... my top surgery is this Friday morning and I'm definitely starting to flip out now. Sort of moot because we passed the point of no return when the money officially changed hands. 😭 But anyway just. Thank you for all the encouraging words you've shared over the years. I figured as long as I can't sleep (and I probably won't now until the anaesthesia 😣) I've been rereading your posts and trying to think positively about my own results/future, which has been... not at all easy. (Depression + anxiety x all the "what if"s + foreknowledge of intense, impending, long-term pain = 😣😫😥😰😭)

But thank you for sharing parts of your journey and being a source of comfort in my panic/self doubting/existential crisis/crises 💛❤️‍🩹

This is a big positive thing for you. Just make sure you have communicated well with your surgeon over the result you're aiming for, and the details, and enjoy the ride. Tip, if you get to pick, I prefer intravenous anaesthetic over gas, as for me gas makes my brain a bit weird for a while after! Because I'm a bit nutty in any case I sent my surgeon a picture of a topless Shatner to remind her of who I was, the day before, since it was over the covid period so initially cancelled and there was a big gap since I'd seen her - to squeeze into that initial small window there was no time for more appointments. Fortuitous as she remembered the key discussion of shape over absolute removal (my priority was as natural look as possible for my body type), had thought about it, and discussed a great (more refined) plan on the morning. You don't realise beforehand the difference it will all feel. A great shift in personal comfort and ease of inhabiting the world. Couldn't quite grasp it until it was done. My guess is you'll be super glad and amazed at the change. Drop a message or ask any time for advice/support. Good luck!

[roncheg]

I want to share something, long post:)

This week i am intensely feeling that time is, indeed, relative.

So many things happened at once and I am very happy in the moment, f* anxiety, I decided to fully enjoy the experience (thanks, therapy☺️).

So, last February things at my previous job became unbearable and i quit juuust before the burnout started to affect me for real.

No, that's not right, I've got health problems from this, it WAS affecting me badly (sincerely, fuck people, who do this to other people, I hope they'll burn in hell for causing me that much stress).

The following months were filled with existential and financial dread, weak attempts at getting my life back on track and even figuring out what I am and what I want and can do (do not recommend, it feels awful but I've got some of my documents in order; got my oven repaired (it's been broken for years); got the second piercing in my ear; fallen hard in a new fandom and got an old-new friend)).

My relatives were understanding for about 2months, then there were dreadful probing questions - are you looking for a job? will you work soon? (and I spent last 15years working, busting my ass - I have resources to be unemployed for about a year). Thanks for feeding my anxiety, I guess.

Unfortunately, I found out that I am not ready to work as an artist on commission, it's too taxing on my ability to create, that path is closed for me now(((

Three month later at a pretty low point I secured a job in a completely different field than my previous career path, though it did have qualities, I thought I needed the most - easy, boring, close to home.

After a month it was unbearable, so, last Tuesday at a lunch break I casually went to a job searching app; sent my resume to a couple of companies in a field related to my previous professional experience, got a couple of interview invites, called them back right away; AND

one of the companies turned out to be a start-up that some of my colleagues from previous-previous job founded)

By last Thursday I went to the coziest interview I've ever had in my life; this Monday I quit a boring job; by this Wednesday I started working at the start-up; it's been 3 days and I have SO MANY adventures related to the new place, so many positive feelings about it, I still kinda cannot believe that this is happening.

And I really feel like a lifetime has passed since this Monday. So, yeah. Time is relative.

Wish me luck.

[schizoem]

TW: REALITY CHECKING, SCARY BELIEFS

I fear I'm faking being on the schizospec, although my psychiatrist thinks otherwise. I hope this isn't taken in the wrong way, but I don't seem schizophrenic.

As in, I've never been hospitalized for it, how do I know I'm having hallucinations, my delusions?

I feel as though I've been lied to. I was diagnosed with GAD and panic disorder... but I don't think I have those disorders... I feel that my anxiety and my depression are caused by psychosis.

I literally couldn't leave my house because If I did then the Earth would lose gravity and we would just fly up into the sky. Or other times I was too afraid to move because I knew I suddenly turned into a huge spider and If I moved and looked down, I would see my legs.

Since I was thirteen, I started thinking existential thoughts and had these beliefs, "I'm not real" "the world is not real", "what if I died or I'm in a coma?" (Sometimes I can hear the heartbeat monitor). I hear people say my name, and I ask those around me, and they tell me they didn't hear anything. I hear a voice that says, "HEY!" Really loud every now and then. I see bugs out of the corner of my eyes. I feel like I am not in my body but rather in my eyeballs and my brain is in my eyes.

I can't look around corners or outside my windows in fear that the alien creature is watching me. He is always there. He clicks his tongue, and I can HEAR IT! I hear constant ringing in my ears, my head. What if God decided he was done with the Earth and just poof! The existence ended. It's just abrupt.

I can't watch certain movies, videos, or content that talks about existential ideas. What if I'm dreaming all of this? Every morning, I pinch my skin to see if it hurts to know if I'm dreaming still or not. One time, I told my teacher to stop reading a book because I had woken up that day and I felt super off and not real.

The "panic attacks" I get, I become stiff and can't move at all, it feels like I'm slipping between dimensions and reality is shattering and I'm gonna find out that I'm really being controlled like a Sim. Someone is making me do these things. My family is not my family, I've been adopted even though there is proof that I belong to them. I don't know who I am, my name is not me, I am not me. I share bodies with someone else. I feel that I woke up at age 13 and I don't remember anything before then.

Anyone who is on the schizospec, is this familiar? Does what I experience seem to be the beginning phases of schizophrenia or other spectrum? I'm so paranoid about faking and thinking I'm just making it up, but I live daily, so paranoid of my brain and the thoughts I have. I'm not asking for a diagnosis, and I'll speak to my psychiatrist about this, but I feel safe asking the Schizospec community because you are the ones who live with the disorders.

Thank you if you respond. I sincerely appreciate it.

[water-to-drink]

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt8

Let’s Go Ice Fishing!

(Summary): Seeing that your mood has been down in the dumps, Lumine and Childe decide to surprise you with a secret ice fishing trip, unbeknownst to the strom closing in

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): Traveler!Lumine, Childe, Paimon, Abyss Prince!Aether , Al haitham, Jean, Ganyu, Sara, Ayato, and Ningguang

(Warnings): Cursing, suggestive language, use of Childe’s real name, Childe’s downbad in this part too, not proofread(let me know if I miss anything)

(A/n): Al haitham and Jean are friends cuz I said so >:(

─────────── ✧ ───────────

The snowstorms have gotten less frequent and harsh during your time in Snezhnaya, but that still didn’t calm your nerves. It has been 3 weeks, nearing a month since anymore Primogems have been found. You can tell things have gotten stressful from the jumpy nature of the low level fatui agents and them being much more apologetic lately. Things have gotten to the point where you rarely see the Harbingers or the Tsarita. Though you have Lumine and Paimon and Aether when he’s not in the Abyss to talk to, the tension still hanging over your head the feeling of uncertainty starts clutching at your back a lot more as of late

You try not to let your anxiety show, but it seems that no matter how hard you try your first vessel would be more privy of you and your emotions

And her and Paimon’s behavior today, you began to grow a bit suspicious of them. What could they be planning? It wasn’t until your favorite homicidal ginger ran up to you and shoved a fishing rod in your hand, saying that he and Lumine have something planned for you

“Ice fishing?”

“Yeah, we’ve noticed that you’ve been down recently and Childe suggested that we take you ice fishing, to clear your head.” Lumine explained

“It would be good to get some fresh air!” Paimon chimed

“That sounds nice, but we should let the others know about this so they don’t freak out when they can’t find me.”

“Don’t worry about that, I already told Capitano!” Childe exclaimed. “Come on, the good fish are waiting for us!” Childe grabbed your free hand and took you out the back

You should’ve known something was up when the taller man looked around each turn before leading you to another corner, but the prospect of being outside made you throw out any reason. When you were brought to the destination, a frozen lake with 3 stools around a hole cut into the ice

“This way, your-”

“Let me help you to your seat, (y/n).” Lumine cut the Harbinger off and took your hand to help you get through the ice and to your designated stool

Once all three of you settled into your respective stools, you turned towards Childe. “So what’s the point of ice fishing?”

“Well, it’s just a way to get out. I do this to clear my head after a long mission with no bloodshed.” The Ginger explained

“So we just talk and hope to catch a fish?”

“Yeah…”

“This sounds too boring, I’m going to take a nap.” Paimon said before disappearing in her little pocket dimension

“Wait, she can do that?!” You shrieked in bewilderment

“Yeah, I thought you could see it during all the times you used me as a vessel.” Lumine assumed

You were too dumbfounded to formulate any words. Thankfully you didn’t blurt out thinking her disappearing into a mass of sparkles and stars was only a game mechanic. You don’t know how you would explain to them what game was and that they were in one without causing some existential crisis

“Okay…”

It was all you manage to say and the two took it without saying anything more. You looked towards the horizon and admired the sun that just revealed itself in all of it’s shining glory. Oddly enough looking at the ball of fiery death didn’t blind you after starring at it, you could say it almost felt comforting. The same comfort you get when reminiscing on a snack you would have as a kid but not as much as you got older. The feeling of nostalgia got you thinking on some things, the same things that been crawling at your back. It didn’t help that the silence you were sitting in made the crawling worse the seconds pass

“Hey, Childe…?” The young man lifted his head towards you. “Do you mind if I call you by your real name, just while we’re here?”

“Of course, your Grace!” Ajax said with glee

“You can call me (y/n) since I’m using your real name.”

“Okay, (y/n).” The way your name rolled off his tongue made him super giddy, all the while Lumine and Paimon watched in mild discomfort. After the initial feeling of exhilaration has subsided, Ajax quickly composed himself. “Is there anything on your mind, (y/n)?” He asked gleefully towards the end at the privilege of getting to say your name

“Do any of you think my plan of taking my doppelganger off the throne would be possible?”

“Of course I do!” Lumine and Ajax said in unison

“Do you mean that as a devoted acolyte or as just you.” You turned towards Childe, a look of earness on your face. “ As Childe of the fatui harbingers or as Ajax?” You turned your attention towards Lumine. “And as the Traveler, the hero renowned all over Teyvat or as Lumine who traversed the stars with her brother?”

The two were left stunned, Ajax opened his mouth but no words came out while Lumine turned her gaze away from you

“I don’t know if I can really beat them. One day I’m just some ordinary person and the next, I’m in this world labeled as an imposter but I’m actually this divine Creator.” You looked towards the hole in the ice to avoid the gazes of your company. “I’ve never been too notable back home, but all of you call me ‘your Grace’ and hold me in high regard. I don’t feel that and sometimes….” Tears start to well up your eyes. “Sometimes I even wonder if you guys are just going along with my plan because you’re all afraid of hurting my feeli-”

“That’s not true!” You snap your head to face Ajax who got up from his seat. “Even though you’ve been reincarnated in a human body, everyone who knows of your presence believes you can achieve this goal. If her majesty had any doubt on then she wouldn’t hesitate to tell you!” Ajax sat back down on the stool. “I believe in you as Childe, the 11th Harbinger and as Ajax, the guy from that small village.”

“I agree with Ajax. Even though I’m claimed to have done massive feats, I wouldn’t have done them without you guidance. My battles against Stormterror, Osial, and the Shogun they all wouldn’t possible without you right by me.”

“Thanks guys,” You took your hook out of the water and set the fishing rod next to you. “Ice fishing is kinda boring, ya’ll wanna have a snowball fight?”

Lumine and Ajax share a look between themselves before turning their attention back towards you and nodding with smiles on their faces

─────────── ✧ ───────────

On the other side of the world, in the nation of contracts, Liyue. Here is where most if not all of the nations’ leaders are temporarily residing due to the order of their “Creator.”

The streets don’t hold the same sense of peace and liveliness it once held, now replaced by animosity and tension so thick one can nearly choke just by breathing. It isn’t any better at the Yujing Terrace, where the world leaders constantly discuss their next corse of action and the same place Al haitham dreads going

On one hand he is grateful that he’s not responsible for the work that comes with being the Acting Grand Sage, but this isn’t exactly what he was expecting

“Good morning, would like some coffee?” Jean asked as she held out a paper cup with its contents producing steam

“Thank you.” He said while taking the cup and drinking from it

“How are you liking your stay at Liyue?”

“It’s alright, I took the chance to pick up some books that typically don’t reach the Akademya.”

“You like to read, me too! Normally I don’t get to read because of my work schedule, but I digress. What genres do you read?”

“Mainly science, philosophy, and…” A noise takes Al haitham out of his line of thought

“Is something wrong?” Jean asked worriedly

It’s whistling

Al haitham walked towards the direction where the sound comes and sees the Natlan priestess with a bird perched upon her finger

“Chimalma, good morning!” Jean greeted

“Morning to you, Jean!” The priestess waved

So Chimalma was her name, Al haitham probably heard her name before but didn’t bother to remember it

“I didn’t expect for you to talk to birds.”

“Hummingbirds are said to be the souls of fallen soldiers, it would be absurd that the priestess of Natlan to not be able to speak to the late warriors, no?” Chimalma scoffed with a playful glint in her eyes

“No, I didn’t mean anything-” Jean tried to stammer out an apology

“I joking, you really need to lighten up.” Chimalma waved her hand dismissively

“I heard the language of birds is something their Grace and only people they chose are able to understand it.” A short woman with blue hair and horns commented as she walk up the stairs

“Spot on! As one would expect from one of Rex Lapis’ adepti~” Chimalma sang which made the qilin turn her head away from the feline hybrid

“If you can indeed talk to birds, then we can use that to our advantage in capturing the imposter.” The tengu general from Inazuma proclaimed as she entered with the Yashiro Commissioner sally of whom Al haitham couldn’t be bothered to learn their names

For a second Chimalma’s eye twitched and a slight hint of malevolence can be seen but soon returned to their usual easygoing gleam. All of which didn’t go unnoticed by the acting Grand Sage and apparently the Yashiro Commissioner caught the slip up

“It seems that everyone is here so we can start attending to matters,” The voice of the Tinaquan brought everyone’s attention towards her. “are there any concerns one would like to bring to our attention before we start with today’s proceedings?”

“I would like to bring up a question,” The young clan head raised his hand. “is Snezhnaya going to be joining us? I don’t recall seeing a representative in our meeting with their Grace.”

“Despite the numerous attempts to get their involvement, they refused each instance.”

“Would it be possible to think, they’re harboring this imposter.” Everyone’s attention quickly turned towards Al haitham, each face containing certain level of surprise. Wether it being what the former scribe said or the fact that he even spoke at all. “Not too long ago they tried to construct a god that would replace Lord Kusanali, so it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for them to be hiding the imposter in hopes of using them to their advantage.”

An unsettling silence hung over the envoys as the realization of the words fully took root in each of the leader’s minds

“That’s absurd! You don’t think they’re foolish enough to try that…? To try and use a world ending entity to replace their Grace, right?” The horned Adeptus worried

There was a moment of silence until the Tinaquan cleared her throat

“If your assertion is true, then we need to mobilize our forces as soon as possible.” She declared, her eyes showing a flame burning within them

─────────── ✧ ───────────

Completely unaware of the arrangements being made, you throw the snowball without a care in the world. The same carefreeness you once had before being labeled as an imposter and hunted like an animal

You watch the snowball fly through the air and break apart once it missed Childe and made contact with a tree trunk. That was the nth snowball you threw he dodged with no effort, but it looked like Lumine was having an easier time getting the snowballs to hit the ginger. You shouldn’t feel too bad, things could be worse. You could be doing just as bad as Paimon desperately flying out the way of snowballs but still getting hit by a good chunk of them

“Your Grace, there you are.” A familiar voice greets you

You look back to see a pair of golden orbs starring back at you

“Aether, how did you find me?”

“I followed your aura when I didn’t sense you in the palace.”

“The spell wears off? Damn that’s really inconvenient.”

“I can cast it on you, again. If it’s for you, I don’t mind being inconve-” A snowball hits Aether square in the face. “Lumine!” Aether yelled

“You didn’t specify you weren’t in the fight, so I didn’t know.”

“Bullshit!!!”

Aether held out his hand and a clump of snow appears in it. As he gets ready to throw the snow ball Lumine tries to run out of its potential line of sight

“Wait! That’s not fair! You can’t use elemental pow-” The blonde tried to shout but was hit in the face

Lumine wipes the snow off her face and starts to grab a large chunk of snow from the ground and packed it into a ball. Aether shield you from Lumine’s and Ajax’s line of sight

“My sister is scary when she’s angry, don’t worry I’ll protect you, your Grace.” The normally cold prince told with an uncharacteristic smile on his face

“No fair, I wanna be on (y/n)’s side-” Ajax whined but got hit in the face by a snowball

“How dare you utter their Grace’s name so casually!”

Lumine and Ajax looked at each other and seemed to have reached a sort of truce. The two grab snowballs in each hand, getting ready to throw them

“H-hol up. Go easy on me!” You pleaded

They did go easy on you, Aether not so much. A barrage of snowballs were thrown at him mercilessly, but he managed to dodge a good portion of them and got an equal amount of his snowballs hitting them

You tried to throw a couple of snowballs but they always ended up missing their target and so you just decided to sit back and watch them. They didn’t notice when you sat on the sidelines, but you didn’t mind you had just as much fun watching them. Time seemed to have gotten away from all of you because the next thing you knew you realized how dark it was

“Uhh timeout guys…” You yelled clear enough for the others to seize their attack. “it’s getting pretty dark out here, we should start heading back.”

The cheerful expression on Ajax’s face dropped into one of realization and horror

“Shit! We need to find shelter fast!”

“What, why?!” You asked fear quickly sinking in

“There’s a cave over there!” Lumine said as she pointed towards its opening

Ajax picked you up and ran into the cave, he stopped once he no longer felt the harsh winds from the outside

“Are you ok?” He asked, making you look at his face, which you were in close proximity. Did he always look this pretty? Or was it that because he’s in front of you and you can see details in face that couldn’t be captured in a series of polygons?!?!

“Ye-yeah, I’m fine,” You said with your gaze adverted. “can you put me down now?”

He immediately does and a smirk graces his pretty boy face

“What are you smirking at?” You asked dreading his response will make your face heat up even more

“You know my offer still stands. The one I gave when we bumped into each other in the forest of Sumeru, us having s-” The ends of the red scarf around his neck fly into Ajax’s face and the two of you turn to see the twins grimacing as anemo particles dissipate by Aether

“Can you not try to get your dick wet for two seconds?” Aether chastises

Ajax yanks the scarf out of his face. “You’re just jealous of the effect I have on (y/n), they can’t help that they find me attractive.”

“You nearly put their Grace in danger and now trying to make a move on them while saying their name so casually, don’t you have no shame!”

“Don’t blame me, you could’ve noticed the sun setting but didn’t so act like you’re any better then me!”

Aether retorts something back but you didn’t catch it due to your attention being brought to something else. It seemed that Lumine took notice on your spaced out look

“Is something the matter?” She asked

“I just feel something pulling me towards it…” Was all you responded with

The pull got more intense the longer you stayed, immediately turning your body you begin walking further into the cave. Lumine and Ajax followed you and tried to convince you to sit back in your seat near the fire, or that is what you think they’re saying to you. Your only focus is on finding out what is pulling you deeper into the cave

You stopped at the dead end and you stared at the wall in awe of what you see. A Primogem embedded into the wall

“(Y/n), we should really be heading back. You’ll get sick if you’re not near the fire.” Ajax tried to persuade you

You turned towards your companions. “Wait! You don’t see that?!”

“I don’t see anything.” Ajax admitted

“You don’t see anything?!”

Ajax shook his head leading you to turn towards the twins

“Lum, Ae, please tell me that you see what I’m talking about.”

They only shook her head, you could see a slight blush on their faces, most likely due to the nickname you gave them. You weren’t in the mood to fawn over how adorable they both looked, you groaned in frustration and went to where the rock was embedded. Seeing the glowing stone, hesitation stopped you from touching it but pushed it aside, you reached out for it and pulled it out. The gem began to glow brighter in your hand as if it had been brought to where it belongs

─────────── ✧ ───────────

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @transbirbboi @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @ventixthexanemoxarchon @bore2808 @lizzhearthz @bidisasterforevermore @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch @esthelily @yurivision @angelamelamela @d4y-dr3am3r @blackcoffex @not-the-shroom @raffaelo4ka @rebeccawinters @artwitchh @kaveh-is-pretty @imyme20 @nymphsdomain @sun7lowxr @itz-luna @flowerypesky

Taglist is still open

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Angst (8) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven

a night to remember (ao3) - grievingwarwidow

Summary: roxie, who prefers the label exotic performer over stripper, is a star amongst people who are out when the sun goes down. who better for a close-minded phil who has despised what he labels as lowlifes to suddenly obsess over than Roxie himself?

aka the one where phil gets pathetically hung up on dan, better known as roxie and is desperate to get to know him better.

Aftermath (ao3) - firephan311

Summary: What happened during that week in March when Dan abruptly stopped taking his antidepressants.

Angelfish (ao3) - PyroStormIsBae

Summary: musings on phil’s anxiety, self image issues, and new hair + how dan loves him through it all.

(TW) Catch You on the Flipside (ao3) - Amorist (dead_on_the_inside)

Summary: Dan is holding himself together by the seams after running away from a religious cult. He has to ask himself why he keeps going, but deep down, he knows the answer already. It's the same answer it was long before his parents packed up and moved him to a thinly-veiled conversion camp in America—Phil.

Or, my excuse to write self-indulgent angst, because sometimes we need that.

Chips (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: Dan struggling with the concept that all healthy couples should fight.

Coffee by Chappell Roan (ao3) - danswideslit

Summary: someone on tumblr mentioned needing a dnp fic with the narrative from coffee and I felt inspired because I love that song a whole lot

Comfort in Chaos (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Phil wakes to Dan having a nightmare that he struggles to rouse him from. It later transpires that there is a reason behind his unsettled and panicked behaviour.

crushing grief (there is no remedy) (ao3) - shandril

Summary: When Phil comes to get the last of his things, Dan has one more chance to ask him to stay.

Deceit and Devotion (ao3) - Thatonefunhun

Summary: Phil Lester has it all. A successful career doing what he loves, a “bestie” who's always got his back, and a can-do attitude! He’s living the life! But what goes on beyond the camera? And is everything as it seems…

Falling for You (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Dan is at the front door waiting for Phil, eager to get outside so he can put his secret plan in motion when he hears a chilling thud of his partner colliding with the bathroom tiles.

First Love/Late Spring (ao3) - leewritesstuff

Summary: Dan and Phil are a ranch metaphor.

Dan and Phil are the moon and the ocean.

Dan and Phil are first loves.

Phil left in late spring.

frozen in time and space (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: It’s 3:30 in the morning and Dan hasn’t been able to stop looking.

I Hardly Feel Anything At All (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan in a depressive episode spends his night at Phil's apartment to "do laundry" while there he finds what home truly means, some existential stuff, Phil is kinda unaware of depression (so is Dan in this fic, de-nial is a river in egypt) but he still cares

I know you, hands under my sweatshirt (ao3) - midorijpg

Summary: “How are you?”

It's with an undertone of fear that he dares ask that, as always, even if he knows that he’s lucky if Dan even decides to answer. And as he imagines, Dan just tilts his head, looking at him as if lost in thought, swinging the bottle with his hand before just resting it on the floor.

“Make room,” he just says.

“What?”

“I said, make room.”

or, something something about having bad days and growing up and realizing you don't (completely) fit in couches anymore.

I try to picture me without you but I can't (ao3) - solarpower21

Summary: After Dan's tragic death, Phil starts having a bunch of strange dreams where he is still alive. But are they really just dreams?

Or: Phil's soul consciousness can't cope with Dan's death, so he starts hopping between different universes, trying to look for him.

I’ll be the light that you can’t make (ao3) - MANIAvinyl

Summary: There was suddenly a tightness in Phil’s chest, put there by guilt and fear, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. The gravity of Dan’s depression was creeping up on him, like a realization he didn’t want to admit.

Or; Dan is depressed and Phil cant help but feel that the sickness in his best friend is a mystery to them both. Hurt/comfort and angst

It's either bathmat green or agony (ao3) - sunshine_and_storm_clouds

Summary: It was day 34 of Dan being gone on tour, and Phil had only left the house to see his parents or the occasional friend. The breeze from the fan brushed his chilled skin, and he shivered.

----

Phil really, REALLY misses Dan when he's away.

Peach and Lime (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil doesn't do relationships. And then he meets Dan. He still doesn't do relationships, but he has a fun angst-filled night.

(TW) Perfect (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Phil is going to make TATINOF perfect-whatever it takes to get there.

Proxy Requests (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: A story about poop and fear (unrelated)

Stir Fry (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: Dan never cooks unless he's feeling guilty. Phil waits.

The Anniversary (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: It is fifteen years to the day since Dan's suicide attempt, and Phil endeavours to make the day as normal as possible.

The Beeping Penthouse (ao3) - gaydreaming

Summary: Set during the events of How Phil Nearly Died. Dan does his best to take care of Phil after their traumatic day, despite being terrified himself. As is to be expected, things dissolve into softness and silliness rather quickly, until they're both able to feel okay again.

the inherent romance of washing the sheets (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Laundry is a bit meditative when you know how to do it, Dan reflects as he sprays stain solution on the sheets.

to love somebody the way i love you (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: Dan and Phil return home from the hospital, and Dan’s Going Through It emotionally.

trade all my tomorrows (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: It's 2014, and Dan Howell is screwing up in life. Fresh off of potentially ruining his just-started acting career with a heavily-memed public freakout, he's ready to hide away for the rest of his life. Until a stranger reaches out, who might not be such a stranger after all.

when i walk in the kitchen, my heart hits the floor (ao3) - aura_sky

Summary: a phivorce fic

based on the Renee Rapp song (In the Kitchen)

or

Dan walks into the kitchen and he misses Phil.

wikihow to stop a divorce (ao3) - ivorycastle

Summary: ❝(...) but then suddenly one day you make a life change, and the flames feel no different..❞

You're Perfect To Me (ao3) - ticklishraspberries

Summary: Dan is feeling insecure about his body, and Phil can’t have that.

[madhogthymaster]

The Familiar Yet Unfamiliar Horror of The Milk Games

CONTENT WARNING: Mental Illness, Trauma

This is Milk Inside a Bag of Milk Inside a Bag Milk... and its sequel, Milk Outside a Bag of Milk Outside a Bag of Milk... and the sound of an electrical short-circuit you're hearing right now is my anxiety sensors flaring off uncontrollably.

The Milk visual novels, as I would like to call them, are an unnerving, unsafe, decisively un-fun journey into the mind of a broken individual as she navigates an altered reality filtered through the disfiguring lenses of her mental illness, low-functioning neurodivergence and trauma. This isn't as much an allegoric representation of her deeply rooted issues as it is an abrasively surreal piece that aims to subject the player to the world as she perceives it, as her mind mutilates it, making every waking moment of her life overflow with existential dread. Milk accomplishes such devious goal thanks to its unique framework: the player is a voice in her head trying to help her buy a bottle of milk; a task made oppressively difficult by her fundamental inability to function within the "standards of society", at the very bare minimum. The first game assaults you with a barrage of fastidious, disorientating, senses overloading colours, sounds and shapes. The girl copes with it by "pretending to be the protagonist of a visual novel." She is the "milk" inside the bag of her multi-layered, anxious brain.

The second game forces the "milk" out of the bag, once she's home from the grocery shop, and becomes a disturbing therapy session: a nightmarish and morose stream of consciousness fueled by insomnia and very dark thoughts inside darker thoughts inside darker thoughts... It's a visual and verbose trip with recognizable artistic influences (somewhere between Satoshi Kon and Hideaki Anno) that does not relent and does not apologize for it, with its sharp black/red monochromes and suffocating aesthetics, with its dreams within dreams.

Milk Girl is trapped in her own head just as much as she is trapped in a reality that offers no support to her. She has to develop habits and coping mechanisms just to survive the day-by-day Kafkian horror of living. Do not take my word as an authority on the matter but I do believe these games come as close as it gets to properly capture what it's like to grow up as a neurodivergent child, along with the potential scars picked up along the way. As an autistic person, I find myself sucked into this vortex of unease, fear and dread that feels all too familiar yet unfamiliar. Existing in this perpetually fluctuating state of mind between feeling like a burden and hating the world for not conforming to you. However, make no mistake, Milk Girl is not your "puzzle to solve" as the purposeful ambiguity of the narrative framing demonstrates. Understanding "what's wrong with her" is not the goal here. The goal is Empathy.

The Milk visual novels are strongly, viscerally about Empathy. They are about connecting with people you don't understand, people who have suffered for faults not of their own and have been alienated as a result. People that deserve love and to be loved just as much as you do. People that need help but don't deserve pity or disdain for it. People like you but not like you, different yet the same. They (us) are human beings regardless if they are "relatable" or not.

In conclusion: these games are a deeply unpleasant experience and more so powerful as a result, the art direction is impeccably strangling and Milk Girl is an iconic character. Play them at your own discretion - especially if you are neurotypical. This was emotionally draining to write.

---

A/N:

I have had these thoughts on the series typed down since the beginning of 2023. In truth, most if not everything I put in the form of an article starts life as sporadic observations over on my Twitter account. Hence why I keep linking my threads on Tumblr, as well. Anyway, you can follow me there and on YouTube, of course.

The Milk games were developed by Nikita Kryukov. They are available on Steam and Nintendo Switch.

Have a happy new year, or else!

[autisticjoys]

Inside Out 2: Thoughts and Speculations (long post)

New Emotions: Why Them and Why Now?

While the trailer has only shown 1 of the 4 new emotions, the comments got me thinking about why these specific 4 were the ones added as Riley hits puberty.

Anxiety

I've seen a lot of comments after the first trailer asking about the difference between Fear and Anxiety and based on definitions from the internet, Fear is essentially a response to a perceived threat that is present at the moment, while Anxiety is a response to "What if?" type scenarios that may or may not happen or even be realistic.

When I gave that answer in the comments, many people told me that Fear functioned as both in the original film, and that brings me to the "Why Now" part. I think Anxiety appearing after puberty is meant to represent how, when we're younger, fears that might seem irrational or unrealistic to others (adults especially), feel real to us (if a kid believes monsters exist, the fear of a monster in their closet is very much rational in their mind). But, as we get older, we start to learn the difference between things we should be afraid of (or at the very least more aware of/careful about) and what are unlikely events that our minds simply obsess over, hence the appearance of Anxiety.

As for the other 3, tho we haven't seen them, based on the nature of the emotions, in my opinion it also makes sense why they specifically only appear after puberty hits.

Embarrassment, in my own definition, is the feeling one experiences when they think they've said or done something that makes them look "uncool" or "weird/odd" (this also applies to things others say/do that makes you or themselves seem "uncool" or "weird/odd"). While this can also happen to younger kids, I feel like it's more so teens that have very rigid definitions of what counts as cool or not, as well as being real jerks to anyone not meeting these rigid definitions (kids can be really mean too, but i think they're more flexible about what they consider cool), and therefore Embarrassment is much more likely to occur strongly in teenagers.

Envy, is also an emotion that, in some form, exists in younger kids, however the biggest difference is, I think, in the focus of the emotion. When we're kids and we see someone have something we don't have, but want, our focus is on the thing (which is almost always material), rather than the person ("I want to have X too!). However, as we get older, our focus shifts to the person who has that thing (which can be material or immaterial) we don't have, but want ("Why do they have X?). Notice how, in the first instance, our reaction is a desire to possess that thing (it's less about someone else having it and about us wanting it), and in the second, it is a questioning of why someone else gets to have that (it's more about why they are the ones who have it, than about us wanting that thing). The latter is what Envy is.

Ennui is a form of dissatisfaction with the way things are, that mixes boredom and tiredness. Children often live in a world that is full of fun, adventures and magic, however the world of school gradually loses these qualities and issues can pile up on top of each other. Riley turns 13 in the film, which is around the time (at least in my country) when kids enter high-school, which is progressively less about fun, even compared to earlier forms of school. This is also the period in many teens' lives where they start questioning why they need to do things and things such as existential crises or depression can come in, both of which can lead to things feeling pointless or meaningless, which coupled with burnout from expectations, can result in Ennui.

New and Old Emotion Pairings

Aside from Joy (who is the only positive emotion in the bunch), I think the 4 other old emotions could each pair well with one of the new ones.

Fear and Anxiety

As mentioned above, the two fulfill similar functions, and at Riley's age it's probably really hard to clearly distinguish between them. So I can easily imagine one of them freaking out, which freaks the other out and so on, so forth.

Disgust and Embarrassment

More so as opposites compared to the previous two. As mentioned in the first film, Disgust's role is keeping Riley from being poisoned (both physically, but more important to this point, socially), which includes keeping her from doing things that are seen as "uncool" (like when she wanted to tell Riley's mom that she shouldn't take her to school). And what exactly did I say Embarrassment is? The feeling we get when we have said or done something "uncool". Basically, I can imagine Embarrassment tailing Disgust, preemptively worrying about the outcome of any situation where Reily might say or do such a thing (especially if socialising or romance are going to be topics in the film, which I'd assume they'd at least partially be).

Anger and Envy

If you think about it, this combo makes a lot of sense too. Anger has been shown as the one who seeks justice and fairness. Envy (as per the definition I gave), includes a feeling of unfairness about someone else having something you want to have too and if you dislike that person or simply think you'd deserve that thing more because of y, it can easily lead to feeling "rightful" Anger (at that person, at your parents, at the world or even yourself). So I can see Envy riling Anger up at different things, both material (like a new phone) or immaterial (like popularity).

Sadness and Ennui

Sadness has been depicted as someone who likes to engage in deep thoughts. Due to the nature of Ennui (as I described above), it would make sense to me if they were deeply philosophical, after all, their existence is partially borne of a questioning of one's existence and purpose. So I can just imagine the two of them engaging in deep conversations, even about hard topics like death or the expectations and hardships of adulthood, maybe even gender, sexuality, discrimination and depression.

I don't want to make plot predictions, but I think the positive to negative emotion ratio will play a part, and tho I don't necessarily think Joy will go back to how she was in the first film, I can definitely see her treating the new emotions (Anxiety in particular) similar to how she treated Sadness, at least initially. I also think that Anxiety, who I think will kind of act like the leader of the new emotions, might get antagonised, perhaps even more so than the rest (just like how Sadness was in the first one). I also think that perhaps Joy will kind of get pushed out by the other emotions, as Riley might go through some of the rougher parts of teen life. I also think that after the initial shock, Sadness in particular would be the first to open up to the new emotions (she's been shown to be empathic in the first one with Bing-Bong).

[sh1-n0bu]

congrats on reaching 300 followers!!! may i request for hetalia? (i’m not sure on the maximum amount of characters allowed so i’ll make a list, you can skip anyone you don’t want to write for) how would scotland, wales, spain, portugal, france and northern ireland deal with an s/o who’s always lost in their thoughts? like they’re always imagining up complex storylines with their own characters, impossible scenarios, procrastinating, giving themselves unnecessary anxiety, and it’s turned to maladaptive daydreaming at this point. they know this, and they say they’re trying to change, but deep down they really don’t want to because reality hurts, and they’d rather be lost in their own little world instead. am i self-inserting too much? probably-

✿ 𝙞’𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 ✿

characters: francis (france), allistor (scotland), dylan (wales), antonio (spain) and siamas (northern ireland) x nb!reader

warnings: hints of maladaptive daydreaming, disassociation, insomnia, existential crisis, comfort, fluff, light angst

notes: phew it has been so long since i had last watched hetalia so i had to watch a lot of vids, comps and read the fandom articles to remind myself of them lmao. with that the characters also might come off OOC

hetalia fandom r u still alive????? if so then yall better prepare bc once my inbox gets flooded with hetalia reqs im gonna terrorize yall🕴🕴

francis is a romantic through and through and due to that he daydreams as well. whether it be romantic dates or acts you and him could do together, recreating gentle scenes from his favorite romance novels, plan out your date and anniversaries - francis is a romantic soul and he feels your daydreaming problem to a certain degree.

whenever he notices you suddenly go quiet, eyes hazy and unfocused, staring at something while fiddling with the strands of your hair, nails, the strings of your hoodie or anything you can get your hands on, the man would let out a sigh and sit behind you. pulling your body close to himself and slowly rocking you both back and forth gently - waiting patiently for you to come back to the real world.

but sometimes francis just can’t help but get a little bit selfish. wanting your attention only on himself but he knows it’s wrong.

so that’s why, when you stepped into your shared home with the blond after another draining day at work, he had already prepared a tea party setup with your favorite novel’s theme, dressed up as your favorite character with a charming smile and gentle eyes. candles lit, the freshly baked goods’ scent wafting through the air enough to make you drool alongside a hot, steaming marble pot filled with a chamomile tea.

“mon amour, would you care for a tea with me?”

before you two started dating, allistor thought of your stimming and daydreaming moments as something familiar to his brother, arthur.

perhaps you saw something that the normal people couldn’t see and interact with them like his little brother, so the redhead didn’t ask anything of it nor did he thought it’s anything problematic. however he got smacked in the face by how deeply your maladaptive daydreaming problems run when after your date at the cafe together, you almost got hit by a car when crossing the street with unfocused eyes and slow, dragged steps.

since then, allistor took it upon himself to study and research more about the differences of daydreaming and maladaptive ones, what causes them to happen, the reason for one to end up having such an odd yet harsh behavior.

whenever you would end up stimming with your headphones plugged in, mindlessly and robotically going through your work with an eerie silence - the man would observe you for a while, trying to decipher if you’re slipping a bit too deep into the dreams before walking over to you and gently tapping on your shoulder.

when your lovely eyes would lock with his own bright blue ones he would give you a smile and reach out a hand. a silent invitation for a slow dance with him - a formerly talked upon agreement that you two made to help you reground again after another slip.

“dalrin’ would you care to share your dreams with me?”

dylan loves fantasy creatures and stories like his brothers and due to that the blond daydreams quite often as well. about the different mythical creatures, their origins, territory, how they would live and interact with one another - all sorts of things.

he tends to stim a lot without even noticing as well so dylan would be the best person to share your struggles of maladaptive daydreaming. not to mention the short man always carries around a big sponge or those cute, character shaped stress balls.

the first time when he found you completely unresponsive laying on your bed with your headphones in, dylan immediately knew what was going on. so he silently slipped into the bed next to you, held your hand in his own and rubbed slow circles into the flesh until you came back again.

since then you both had made a promise to each other to try and get better. slowly but surely working on your behaviors, problems and sudden slips. and it’s safe to say that you both had gotten better.

“cupcake! if you slip down the rabbit hole again then take my hand and drag me down with you! ‘cuz i don’t ever want to be without you.”

antonio is a bright and optimistic young man, however sometimes he comes off as blunt and insensitive due to him not fully being able to read the situation at hand.

perhaps it’s due to his inability to read the room that he was able to snap you out of your slip so easily and effectively when you two first met. a simple pat to your shoulder and voice asking you “what are you doing sitting around without doing anything for?” definitely stopped your daydreaming.

after you had said your answer to him in an unsure voice, the bright smile wearing man simple smiled even brighter and asked you if you wanted to be friends.

and since then antonio and you two became friends. meeting up in small shops, restaurants, gardens, everywhere anywhere all at once until one day after almost 2 years of friendship the young man asked you if you would like to take your relationship a step further.

whenever he finds you stimming with your fingers while gazing at someplace far away, he just can’t help but get a bit sad. you wanted to be someplace that’s not here and antonio didn’t want you to go somewhere where he can’t be with you.

so he would always rubs simple shapes into your hand or shoulder, giving you an unusually melancholic smile with his pinky raised.

“pinky promise to always come back from your wonderland to me?”

siamas is a loud and chatty fellow - the perfect human representation of a golden retriever if only he had blond hair instead of red.

it was all thanks to his bright personality that you have been getting better and better at regrounding yourself back again when alone.

when siamas first saw your behavior with his own eyes he immediately knew what it was. so the redhead calmly walked over to your sitting form on the couch, kneeling before you and started to plant butterfly kisses on your cheeks. trailing them slowly over your acnes/moles/freckles until you snapped back and let out a giggle at his sweet antics.

he always has a lot of different toys, chibis and cute little bracelets connected to his keychain so whenever you two are going out kn a walk or a date, when he feels your hand become loose in his own he would proudly pull out his keychain and put one of the toys into your hand. gently squeezing yours - which is holding the toy - in his own, giving you a smile and a proud kiss to your forehead when you ground yourself back.

“welcome back honey. so what do you think of getting for dinner today?”

[st-asya]

Idk what kinda introduction post that is, but I need to start this blog while my hyperfixation is still intact. No idea who'll bother to even read it, honestly, I fully expect it to be a talking-to-the-void kinda thing, I just love practicing my English, might as well combine it with my stoopid tho(ugh)ts everyone has already thought and seen cause I didn't exactly get into the series in time.

It's a side blog, and I'm not a native speaker so I'm self-conscious as everloving fuck and I sincerely apologize (yeah, it's a proper formal apology cause I feel guilty as fuck as well) if my posts are unreadable, I always do my damnedest for them to make sense, but it won't always be the case, I assure you. I have no talents except for trying to overcome the anxiety that grabs me by the throat on the daily basis (and I'm not even into that kind of asphyxiation thank you very much, duh) which sometimes results in my brain lacking the necessary amount of oxygen for it to function properly (but again I do my damnedest for my vitals to be intact), hence some inadequate posts. So about that, I'm trying to overcome the anxiety by posting everything that pops into my silly little head (it's a shitty way to do it, but it's something at least), the horrors persist, but so do I.

Kay, I'm depressed as fuck (not trying to present it as a badge of honor or anything, it's just a part of my personality, so I think I need to mention it), and it's a miracle watching OFMD (finally) somehow made sense in my head (cause nothing does lately). I'm as late for the party as fucking ever, but oh well maybe being slow will be my always.

I've just started to watch it actually, but my first thought was that it felt a tad rushed, but it's perfectly understandable. Still it made me feel the full daunting force of existential dread with a ray of hope on the side (which, again, makes me all suspicious to no end cause everytime I feel hopeful I think my brain is fucking with me with no safe word involved in the process).

I've watched 6 eps of season 1 so far, spoilers don't faze me one bit (I'd stumble upon them either way, no point in trying to avoid them, methinks), cause I made sure I'd watched some YouTube vids with bits of all the eps combined on a complete whim and cause those bits did exactly fuck all for me to piece together anything at all, so strictly speaking, they don't even feel like spoilers. I'd even say I started to actually watch the series cause I got so damn angry at myself for not understanding shit, so I was like yeah, makes perfect fucking sense and finally I know what the "m'noses" and "doggy heaven" lines were about (I seriously thought I'd spontaneously combust if I don't find out, the last time I've ever been so dead set on achieving anything was when I tried to understand whatever the hell Buttons says (so fairly recently), cause English is my second language (there might be subtitles and script, I assume, but no, we die like my will to live while figuring it out solely by listening to what he says (love me some torture, weird flex but okay, I guess).

That's helluva long post that barely makes any sense, so I'll shut up for now.