#suicidal tendencies implication

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: sacrifice / self sacrifice / slight suicidal themes / death mention / ]

I personally think that Leo took the wrong lessons from the movie. I definitely think he grew to understand the importance of teamwork and making sure he takes others into account so as to not harm them by proxy of whatever scheme he has cooked up, however based on the ending events I’m not quite certain he fully grasped two things.

The first thing is communication. Oh, he can communicate, and he does, when he deems it necessary. When he’s setting up a plan prior to the action. But this is where the second thing comes in.

The second thing I don’t think Leo truly grasped is “it’s not about you.” It’s so unbearably easy to take that the wrong way, especially when taking the rest of the series into account.

What I believe Leo took from this message is not “it’s not just you, everyone matters and can contribute, can help and be helped” but “put the whole of everyone above yourself” which can both be a good lesson…and a fatal one.

And it is fatal, we see as much in the movie.

Even after the big hope speech, when Leo is “fighting” Krang!Raph, he takes a huge risk. Sure, it worked, and Leo managed to get through to Raph through a well deserved apology, but it could have so easily ended in his death and yet he barely even hesitates to go for it.

And then again, to the big scene at the end, where Leo sacrifices himself not only for the sake of his family, but for the whole world.

To him, that’s the message to take from this. That the lives of everyone, of the greater good, matters…more than him. That the risk to himself is worth it if others can be saved.

Leo learned that gambling with his life as the betting chip is always the best move to make in the end.

And to make matters worse…this thinking is what works.

These risks are ultimately what is needed to save the day, so why would Leo look away from it now? Clearly it’s the right move and everything worked out!

Thing is, Leo did grow from the events of the movie. He learned to take things more seriously and be more mature, he learned to value his team’s input and capabilities enough to rely on them more, and he learned to be less self-centered and realize the turmoil others were going through (especially if that turmoil is a result of his actions.)

But still, he’s grown to accept the gamble of his life as a viable answer to their problems.

Personally, with how Leo has been shown to toy around with the idea of “it’s better me than them” I think this goes beyond sacrifice in the name of love or even sacrifice in the name of responsibility, and pushes over into sacrifice in the name of worth.

[rollforjackass]

thinking about aziraphale's line "evil always sows the seeds of its own destruction" in relation to crowley creating the stars and galaxy and planets, and how creating the earth on which they lived their lives and for which they sacrificed everything inevitably destroyed crowley's relationship with the one person his life revolved around

[system-to-the-madness]

Cherry Blossom Interventions 🌸 Fushiguro Megumi x Reader

Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: hurt/comfort – angst to fluff Word Count: 3 271 Warnings: SPOILER for up to chapter 253, suicidal tendencies and implications (Megumi), mentions of death and depression Summary: Megumi has drawn back from everyday life completely, so you intervene A/N: Sorry for the late post; life happened. Played volleyball with friends, went to eat sushi, went running with the same friends, went to Maces, and then to a foot Onsen.

Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist

"Why am I here?"

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to Megumi. He was standing underneath a cherry blossom tree when a cool breeze of spring air swept through his hair, carrying pink petals that caught in his black strands. His hair was shorter than it had been in autumn; not by much but the difference was still noticeable. You wondered whether he had cut it to not resemble the version of himself Sukuna had turned him into.

��You know why you are here,” you answered him, ignoring the frown on his brow. “This is an intervention.”

“What kind of intervention,” he asked back, clearly starting to get upset.

“What kind of intervention do you think it is?”

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.” Megumi was already turning away from you again when you called out for him.

“We are worried,” you told him, almost shouting.

He just scoffed.

“Who is we?”

“Yūji, me, Toge, Maki, Yūta” you replied. “Panda, too, and Ieiri-sensei. Ever since December, ever since that last fight. Do you think we don’t know what's been going on with you? Do you think we don't know you've been skipping therapy and meals. We know you're just holed up in your room the whole day. We know you don't want to be here; you don't want to be with us anymore-”

“Then why can't you let me be?”

His shout made you flinch, but you had faced scarier things than an upset classmate.

“Because we care,” you shouted back. “We care too much to let you ruin your life like this! Don't misunderstand: We are not making light of the situation you were in - you are in. We understand that none of us could ever possibly imagine the things you have gone through, but you cannot ask us to let our friend die, who we fought so hard to save. You can't ask that of us!”

Megumi just rolled his eyes. “And what about what I want? What about the things I want,” he asked.

“For once, you don't get to say in this,” you shook your head. “It's not much we demand of you. We want you to eat properly. We know you haven't. We want you to step outside at least once a week, doesn't have to be long, just sit in the sun for a few minutes. That's all we ask. Or open your window, it's been barricaded since you moved back in in January. And go to your therapy sessions. We know you have them scheduled and we know you've been skipping them. You can't expect to get better if you don't go to these sessions.”

“And what if I don't want to get better?”

“That's not an option. I told you: For once you don't get to say in this.”

Megumi stared at you from between the falling cherry blossom petals that were carried down to the ground by the wind. You could see in his eyes that right now, in this moment in time, he thought he hated you. You just had to hope he didn't actually feel that way. If he did, you did you definitely would have been the wrong choice to have this conversation with him.

It had been quite a debate between the second years, Yūji, and you about who should talk to Megumi. You even considered asking Ieiri-sensei about being the one to talk to him, but in the end, everyone agreed it would be best if it were you. They were convinced you were the one he trusted the most, the one he liked the best. At least those were the others’ arguments. You weren't sure how true they held, now that he stared at you as if he wished you were to drop dead to the floor.

“All right,” Megumi sighed. “I'll oblige to your demands under one condition: Give me one good reason why I should continue fighting. But keep in mind: my mother is dead. My father is dead, killed by the man who raised me, the man who – although he is not my father – is the closest thing I've ever had to one, the man who I had to watch being killed by my own hands. My sister is dead, also killed by me. What do I live for? Give me one good reason.”

You stared back at Megumi watching the hatred in his eyes. It was obvious he didn't believe you had any idea what he was going through.

Truthfully, you didn't. Your situation was nothing like his, and you never had been in a situation like this before nor would you ever be, but that didn't mean you didn't know all the facts he just listed. His father, his mother, his sister, and Gojō-sensei, all the people he ever might have considered family, were gone, along with so many others. And in a large part he blamed himself for it.

It was not his fault, how could it have been his fault, when it had been Sukuna, who had possessed his body. But you supposed having to watch your own body commit such terrors, having to watch as your hands took life after life, unable to interfere, unable to save his friends and family, unable to do anything but watch them all being slaughtered… it wasn’t surprising he blamed himself.

“Gojō’s in a coma, one he might never wake back up from, and it's nobody's fault but mine. Do you really believe I can live in a world like that?”

You wanted to disagree with him, tell him that it was not his fault, that he was not the one to blame, that as long as you all stuck together, there was still hope, but you knew better than to do so. Instead, you started with what he had demanded of you.

“You want me to give you a reason to keep on living,” you asked. “Gojō-sensei is not dead. As you said he's in a coma. Ieiri-sensei has been working on him every day. As far as we know he might wake up any day now.”

Megumi shook his head. “You really believe that,” he asked, “if you’re really believing that, you are more naïve than I believed you to be.” He sounded disappointed.

“Not naïve,” you disagreed. “Hopeful.”

“Same thing.”

“But let's assume for one moment Gojō were to wake back up,” you continued the train of thought before Megumi could derail it again. “Wouldn’t you want to be there? Wouldn’t you want to see him again, talk to him again?”

“You’re dealing in probabilities; probabilities are not good enough. Give me something tangible.”

You blinked. You had really thought he would give in at Gojō. So, what were you to say now?

“A stary sky then,” you offered. “To go star gazing the way we did last summer. On a blanket, out in front of the school, sharing snacks and drinks.”

Megumi scuffed.

“Another sunrise,” you continued. “Pinks and reds and oranges dying the clouds, a new day with new possibilities-”

“New suffering? Not good enough.”

“A puppy’s fur under your fingertips, these sharp, tiny teeth burying in your skin.”

“And what for?” Before you could answer, he kept going. “All my life I’ve tried to form relationships, be close to people I care about, and all my life they left me. One after the other. So what good is another stary sky, another sunrise, a puppy’s fur underneath my fingertips, if I don’t have anyone to share it with? It’s not good enough.”

A part of your mind was still hung up on the thought that it was probably better for Megumi to blame the dead for being dead than himself, but you quickly answered.

“You have us,” you told him, taking a careful step forward. “Maki, Toge, Panda, Yūta.”

His ocean blue eyes glimmered as he fully turned towards you as if he was waiting for something specific.

“You have Yūji.”

His shoulders sacked, and he looked away.

“Not good enough. They’re all gonna leave eventually.”

“I won’t,” you disagreed. “I’m not gonna leave. I made you a promise when we entered Shibuya together, that I’d always be there, and I don’t plan on breaking that promise.”

Megumi shook his head, biting his lips, still not looking at you.

“You’ll be there,” he asked, sounding disbelieving. “For every stary sky, every sunset. Every meal, walk, therapy session.”

“Yes.” Your reply was unwavering.

“You don’t even know what that means,” Megumi sighed, finally looking back up to you, but now he seemed rather sad than angry. As if the scenarios he had painted were what he wanted but were too far out of reach to even attempt to grasp them. “I’m sick. My mind- I’m broken. Something inside my head is broken and I don’t know if it will ever heal again, and if it does, if it heals right. A promise like you’re offering… it wouldn’t just be for the next days or weeks. It might be months, years, hell, it might be decades of me trying to shut my self away, of nightmares, therapy, being unable to laugh or feel anything other than this pitch-black darkness. You can’t promise me you’ll be strong enough to be there. I don’t doubt that you have the strength to see me through all this, I know you do. But there will be times when it will seem as if I’d be okay, and you’ll be hopeful, but when I have a bad phase again- It would hurt you, and I can’t hurt any more of my friends.”

“And you think the way you’re behaving right now is hurting nobody? Megumi, I won’t promise that I’ll always be there. I can’t. I’m still a sorcerer, I still have to go to missions, and am in danger every time I go. But I will be there for you for as long as I can and for as long and often as you want me to be.”

“For every stary sky?”

“And every sunrise.”

“Every meal?”

“If that’s what you want, yes. And for every walk, and if you want me to, I’ll even wait outside the therapist’s office for you.”

Megumi averted his gaze, staring at a spot right in front of your feet.

“Why? Why would you do that? What do you get in return?”

Carefully you took a step forward. “Because I care about you Megumi. And even though it might seem selfless, getting to be there for you, supporting you, trying to help you to get back to your feet, getting to watch you fight to get better, being with you through all this, is actually a very selfish act.”

Megumi looked back up, his eyes scanning your face for a moment.

“Can you hug me,” he asked, voice quiet over the wind in the branches above you.

“Of course,” you smiled and slowly crossed the last distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. He seemed to melt into the touch, almost fragile, his body moving closer to yours until his whole front was flatly pressed against yours, his face buried against the side of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek and ear. You held him tight, not too tight, so he still could breathe without effort, but tight enough for him to feel how serious you were with everything you had offered.

“I’m just scared of ending up alone again,” he whispered. “And I can’t lose you too. You’re too important to me.”

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered back, rubbing his back through the thick fabric of his oversized hoodie.

“What if you die?”

“I won’t. And if I do, I’ll come back as a curse, like Rika.”

The sound of a small chuckle surprised you, but you quickly held Megumi tighter, hoping to engrave the sound into your memory forever.

Before you could say anything else, Megumi’s phone started ringing. You stiffened up, ready to pull away, but Megumi kept you close.

“Aren’t you going to answer,” you asked, hesitantly wrapping your arms back around him.

“No,” he replied.

“What if it’s important?”

“How important can it be,” Megumi shrugged. “Not more important than this, anyway.”

After a while the ringing stopped, and Megumi slowly loosened his hold on you. Carefully pulling away, you came face to face with him.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“What for?”

“Everything. I… I tend to lose sight of the good things in life and let the darkness swallow me whole.”

Taking a step back, you reached out your hand for him to take. Questioningly he raised his eyebrows at you but placed his hand in yours.

“Now you won’t get lost in the darkness,” you told him with a smirk, making him roll his eyes.

“That’s too cheesy for me,” he shook his head.

“Oh, don’t start laughing now, Fushiguro,” you cried. “I saw that! The corner of your mouth was twitching!”

“It wasn’t! That’s annoyance at how cheesy you were being!”

He only kept his expression in check for another second before he burst out laughing. Using your intertwined hands, he pulled you back into a hug, this one more casual than the first. When his phone started ringing again, both of you ignored it.

After you had calmed down from the laughter, Megumi’s eyes fixed themselves on your face, watching you as were catching your breath.

“Can I kiss you,” he suddenly asked, making you freeze in your motion.

Surprised you looked at him, your heart seeming to miss a few beats, but then you nodded your head, and a moment later his lips were on yours, soft, a little chapped, but gentle. It was a sweet kiss, nothing too extravagant, and still enough to steal your breath and make you weak in your knees.

It was perfect, you suddenly realized, kissing Megumi like his. Around you, cherry blossom petals were floating on a warm spring breeze, birds were singing in the branches above you, and Megumi’s arms were warm and secure around you while his heart beat a firm rhythm underneath your fingers, somewhat too fast for a normal heartbeat, but then again yours was probably racing too.

The perfect moment got interrupted by yet another ring of Megumi’s phone.

“I think you should answer it,” you mumbled against his lips. “It’s probably really something important.”

Megumi sighed but pulled away enough to grab his phone out of his pocket.

“It’s just Yūji,” he rolled his eyes, but before he could answer the call, the ringing stopped again.

He shrugged, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“I got a question,” he suddenly declared.

“Ask away.”

“You said: another stary sky, another sunrise, and…” he hesitated for a moment before continuing. “a puppy’s fur underneath my fingertips. Where do you plan to get me a puppy from?” He sounded amused, but you knew him good enough to know that he would do hell of a lot to play with a puppy sometime soon.

“Okay, here’s the thing.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yūji and I were thinking, for a while now.”

“That can’t be a good sign,” Megumi sighed. “What crazy idea did you two come up with now?”

“I’m gonna ignore that low-key insult, and let you live” you announced, “But do you know Principal Yaga’s friend, the one who had all these dogs?”

Megumi nodded, clearly hesitant about whether or not he really wanted to know what Yūji and you had come up with.

“So, one of the dogs had puppies a few weeks back and we were thinking that it might be good to adopt one of them, for our year. We’ve been talking to the teachers and thinking things through and if all of us take turns caring for it, it won’t be too much responsibility all at once. And it would give us some sort of stability, having to go on walks on regular hours, playing, teaching it commands… but there’d also someone to keep us company when we don’t feel so good, someone who can’t give us advice, but also won’t ask questions either. Someone who accepts us as we are, no matter how good we are in school or whatever. So… yeah, the puppy is already old enough to be separated from its mother and is moving in next Friday.”

Megumi stared at you.

“You adopted a puppy,” he asked incredulously.

“We adopted a puppy,” you corrected. “Yeah.”

“And we‘ll share responsibility for it?”

You nodded, and Megumi’s eyes suddenly grew hard.

“I don’t know that dog yet, but I’ll fight you for custody after graduation,” he declared, making your eyes widen.

Graduation. That was still three years away, the furthest Megumi had talked about the future since November.

Swallowing your surprise, you shrugged. “That’s okay with me.”

“But wait,” Megumi suddenly stopped. “Before the puppy arrives, we need all kinds of stuff. It won’t be like with Shiro and Kuro, it’ll need a basket, and bowls and a leash! I think we’ll need several baskets, so we don’t have to carry them around all the time. And food! We need special-”

He was interrupted by the ringing of a mobile phone, this time yours.

“Yūji,” you told him, showing him the screen on which a picture of your pink haired classmate had popped up.

“Let’s answer it,” Megumi sighed. “He’ll just keep calling otherwise.”

You had barely pressed the green button to answer the call, when Yūji’s voice was already sounding from the small speaker, loud enough that you didn’t even have to put your ear to it.

“Megumi isn’t answering his phone,” Yūji all but screamed. “I’ve tried calling him dozens of times but he’s not answering! I’m really worried! We need to-”

“Yūji, Yūji, calm down!” Quickly you interrupted your panicking friend, pressing the speaker button so Megumi could listen in. “He’s with me, he’s fine, we were talking a walk.”

On the other side silence spread out.

“And you didn’t call dozens of times, you called three times,” Megumi added, leaning down to the speaker.

On the other end, a small “oh” was audible.

“So, what’s so important that you decided to terrorize Megumi via phone calls,” you asked, shooting Megumi a glance.

His eyebrows were furrowed, and it was not hard to tell that he had only now realized just how worried his friends were about him, how much they cared about him. Enough to send ever cheerful Yūji into something akin to a panic attack just because he hadn’t answered his phone for a few minutes.

“I didn’t terrorize him,” Yūji protested.

“You kinda did, but whatever. What’s going on?”

“You guys need to come to the hospital wing asap,” Yūji told you.

Megumi and you exchanged glances. The hospital wing? That wasn’t good. Megumi took your hand in his and started walking back the way you had come.

“We’re on our way,” you told Yūji, “What’s going on? Who got hurt?”

“Nobody,” Yūji sounded like he was running himself now, slightly out of breath. “Gojō-sensei’s awake.”

And with that he ended the call.

Megumi and you were both so surprised about the message, that you came to a slithering halt. Gojō was awake? Sure, you had told Megumi it was a possibility, that he might wake up soon, but you had not believed it to actually, really happen at all.

For a short moment Megumi and you looked at each other,f inding your own surprise and relief mirrored on his face. And then you took off running, taking the quickest way to the hospital wing, your hands intertwined.

[willgrahamsleftear]

Okay I'm here to subscribe to your newsletter, please elaborate on this at your earliest convenience!!

Just woke up heyyy!!

Okay so I have a theory that Mark was kinda trying to commit suicide in a really roundabout way via the coffin trap.

He enters the room after Peter with a syringe. Why would he do that if not so that he could get Peter into the coffin by force? Which would then make him be the one to get crushed to death, and frames Peter completely for his crimes, letting Mark die with his dignity as an innocent man in the eyes of others.

He tries to get out of the coffin when he’s shoved into it, though we don’t really know if this is a ruse or not. I feel like it wasn’t, considering we see him struggling to get out of the coffin during the fight and hitting the glass when it locks. Though he does accept it afterwards and takes the opportunity to mock Peter.

Also, he gets extremely self-destructive after Peter’s death. Even before forensics & the audio unscrambling outed him as Jigsaw, he’s got no real reason to keep living and so he just continues killing people in more brutal, showy ways. Then when he is discovered, he goes around killing FBI agents, police and swat teams, and further implicating himself rather than trying to cover it up like he did before the coffin trap.

After Jigsaw’s death, he doesn’t really have a reason to live. In encouraging Amanda to kill Lynn via blackmail, and setting up Peter to kill slowass Jeff, and locking them all in the room together.. and on top of that, with Peter and Perez’ trial (killing Peter and Perez, if it went to plan, which it didn’t), all he’s doing is eliminating any ties he could have to the Jigsaw murders, and anyone who could either figure out he is a Jigsaw apprentice (Peter, Perez) or could name him as Jigsaw (Amanda, John, though we can’t be entirely sure he planned that. I’d say it was more that he got ‘lucky’ that they died?)

Once he finds out Peter survives, he then sets him up to be framed as Jigsaw. Why would he frame Peter if he was just going to kill him? And then further attempt to frame Peter after his death (which I believe was him just trying to cope with the fact that nothing he did went according to plan. He wasn’t as good at ‘predicting the human mind’ as John was.)

He has basically no reason to keep going after John’s death (at least, no outside reason. I personally believe he lost his internal interest in living as soon as his sister died, and would have probably committed suicide after Seth Baxter’s murder if it weren’t for John.) He lost his sister, his work environment isn’t good, he’s been shown to have incredibly self-destructive tendencies.

He just couldn’t predict that Peter would overpower him and shove him in the coffin. That Peter wouldn’t finish the tape.

It’s SUCH a loose kinda “just trust me bro” sorta theory but ARGHGH it adds so much to his character and I hold it very very close to my heart

[tempeststhings]

Friendly reminder that just after he was branded (which would've hurt like all hell), this man was forced to fight and kill 35(?) other slaves with his own chains, for half of what his "owner" paid for him.

And throughout his whole life he labels himself as a murderer even though he only did that for the sake of his survival.

I think people think to take that lightly but when you really think about it, the implications of the whole ordeal talks volumes about Aventurine's desire and will to live, despite the fact that he tried to die so many times in the dreamscape.

Like seriously, despite his suicidal tendencies part of him still wanted to live, "clutching his chips with his hands" as one might put it.

I swear I will stand by my opinion that Aventurine really is the best character out there cause he mirrors both the strength and the fragility of man.

More love for Aven 🥹🩵🫶

[cloudninetonine]

A Player's Aid: Chapter 13

Fandom: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe

A/N: I'D LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE WHO GAVE ME MORAL SUPPORT ON OUR GROUP CALL AND A SPECIAL THANKS TO MY EDITORS, FANGS AND SHY, ALSO FOR LISTENING TO ME REREAD IT ALL Y'ALL GREAT

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, threatening language, descriptions of sick/vomit/throw up, disturbing imagery descriptions and descriptions of panic/anxiety attack, also slight implications of suicidal tendencies

The weight of the world felt heavy on your shoulders in this castle of darkness and silence. Your body weak, shaking under the pressure of any regret that ever did cross your mind as you sat there, curled into the tightest ball with a tear soaked face and fear blanketing your eyes.

It was true, what they said. Near death, your life would flash before your very eyes, letting you relive every last waking moment in a solemn look that only grew more agonising by the second. Your mother? Stranded. Alone. Never to be seen again. Your friends? Abandoned. Clueless. Left wondering what  happened to your being. Would you ever return to your home? Would Hyrule be your resting place? Whether from old age or the consequences of a risky move, resulting in a bloody pool beneath your cooling body-

How did you get here? When did you get here? Where were you? Was this real? Were you real? The suspense almost choked you, hands shaking with repressed emotion, clutching tightly to your cloak that hung from your shoulders. Home. You wanted home. You wanted your home. You wanted, wanted, wanted, wanted-

“(Name),” Wild called again, his hand coming to join yours balled tightly around the fabric of your mantle, “Please, I know you are scared but you must pull through.”

The Champion sounded so close yet so far. A mixture of nonsense and sense as your brain continued to stay muddled in the lone castle hallway.

Not a skulltula stalked the corners, nor did the Shadow’s darkness lurk, dragging against the walls and floor as it searched desperately for your petrified figure. Was he still reeling from your defiance? Had he simply taken the wrong turn at some point while desperately scrambling after you? Why wasn’t he here? Was he waiting? Watching?

A whimper broke past your lips.

Wild glanced around nervously.

What to do? What to do? The Wild Hero knew of your pain but yet didn’t know how to heal it. Time was ticking, he knew that danger was on the prowl and with only a lone holder of courage, the blonde knew that it would be a dangerous brawl indeed-

But then he remembered.

Wild remembered back, all those many moon cycles ago, when the Shadow had struck down the ranch-hand. Rivers of blood bloomed from the slash of the Iron Knuckle’s blow, spouting maroon sullying the area around Wolfie as he collapsed back onto the earth below, unmoving and quiet as time seemed to pause as all eyes fell onto him. He remembered the rage, he remembered the fear and the shouting and the pleas and he remembered it.

Standing. Watching. Waiting.

From anger sprouted seething hatred as he stared. It felt mocking, despite the apparent leaking wound under its bulking armour. Mocking of the hero before it, triumphant over its victory- Twilight had gotten cocky in his incessant hunt and now he had experienced its true power. 

Wild had snapped then, watching his friend bleed out between the bodies of his brothers protecting him even unknowingly. His newly forged sword drawn at the ready with his hand itching towards his slate as he bolted towards it. The hero did not care of its destructive power, he did not care of the consequences of his rage; others yelled around him but he would not yield, not even for them.

And he did what he did best- he swung.

The Chains of Stasis keeping it still, he hurled hit after hit of his blade. Every emotion that burned in the rivers of his veins poured into the strength of each and every blow. The dents in the armour only fed into his bloodlust, gripping his heart, almost choking but he kept at it, kept beating until the dinging finally stopped and his sword snapped from the strain, the armoured giant bubbling from the tension before exploding into a barrage of scrap, liquid darkness pooling around the remains.

The first attempt to break them. Put the fear into them all as Twilight had laid in that inn bed. The Shadow had tried to pull them apart from the seams, digging its  sharpened claws into the fabric to rip what held them together- their brotherhood, their bond. If one was to fall, what would become of the rest? Chaos would ensue and chaos did take  its toll, fights and venomous words breaking out between them.

But…but Twilight had made it. Miraculous and a miracle, the man of muscle had returned to his brothers with only regrets of secrecy to his name.

Wild would not let this happen again. He would not let the Shadow grin that mocking smirk as you laid cold on the floor below, blood pooling beneath you.

“(Name), I’m going to lift you, okay?” Words soft, the Wild Hero stroked your hands, testing his touch. “Don’t panic.”

When you didn’t respond negatively he moved his palms downward, slipping one under your knees and tightening another around your back, pushing his weight onto one leg to haul himself to his feet. It wasn’t ideal, not being able to fight, but this was all he could do while you were still stunned.

Bouncing you a little, he readjusted you in his arms and made quick work of returning to his brothers.

----------

Despite the Ache’s deceit and malicious intentions- it had not lied.

The skulltula herd had been quite the fight. The dodging of pincers while slashing their swords, snapping jaws with saliva dripping an ungodessly sight until the very end, Sky plunging the Master Sword straight into the archnid’s softened belly with monster blood spraying. The hero’s eyes were dark then, watching the creature writhe and squeal in pain until the very end, the dark purple ‘poof!’ of monster magic fading along with any remnants of the beast.

“We must still check the castle’s library- whether or not another hoard awaits us.”

They had to find those hostages.

And they did.

Builders, guards, mere travellers and others from the settlement were held up in the confines of the library- singing praises of the heroes appearance, handshakes and hugs of desperation shared all around as they cheered. 

“Our rations grew smaller, we were unsure if we would ever make it out alive!” Cried the head guard, Cillian was his name. “Thank you, good sirs, thank you so!”

“What led you into this mess?” The smithy had asked, “What happened?”

A builder’s moustache shook along with his wobbling lip, tears cornering his eyes. “Great big beasts with too many legs and eyes chased us! Attacked those who were unprepared! The library was the only place restored enough to keep back all of them!”

His friends comforted him as he wailed.

Cillian turned back to the heroes.

“Tell me, heroes- do these monsters still stalk those halls?” Cillain seemed almost afraid of his own words, let alone the answer. “Are we still in danger?”

The ranch-hand stepped forward. “We are all far from perfect safety but the hallways are no longer overgrown with webs or these creatures. We will escort you out, but any fighters who can still draw their sword should stay prepared to brawl.”

Hylians cried out in despair but the more battle prone called for their clarity- now wasn’t the time, they needed to escape.

The heroes did not forget of their other current affairs. Hyrule’s hand shaking around the hilt of his sword as he looked forward, dead eyed at the thoughts running through his mind.

Had the Wild Hero found you yet? Or did he still sprint through those halls? Once Twilight had tossed him with his shield, his bare strength throwing the smaller blonde over the crowd of monsters and a little further down the hallway, Wild had raced away. The skulltula couldn’t even keep up, left in the dust of the Hylian heroes brown polished boots. It was no surprise of course, the man had one goal on his mind and that was finding you- he had no time.

Were you okay? Were you dead? Hyrule’s pupils shook in boiling anger and fear. What if Wild hadn’t made it in time? What if he had just stepped into the scene to see the Shadow’s hands tear wildly at your skin, blood staining his claws as he tore out your own heart?

What-

A scream.

A scream so vile and horrid echoed through the stones, bouncing through the hallways and catching the ears of the masses. Others also screamed, horrified. Many covered their own ears and others ducked when the walls shook from this shriek’s power, dust  crumbling from newly built structures and books falling off their shelves as the shockwaves hit until finally relaxing.

The heroes all shared a look.

Warriors wasn’t fast enough to grab Hyrule’s tunic before he was scrambling.

“Traveller!”

The eldest had roared, worried but also frustrated, but it was too late. Hyrule had leapt three steps each of the staircase and bolted right back the way they had come, the others in a state of shock before the Captain had begun to chase after him.

“I’ll make sure he won’t kill himself!” 

And they, too, were gone.

Six remained.

Twilight’s hands twitched, glancing over to Time who could see the confliction in his eyes. Holding back for him.

He sighed, “Go.”

And now there were Five.

“We will escort you all, come.”

----------

Navigating the new paths of the castle was a little harder than Wild expected. It had been so long since he had trekked these halls, crumbling and blotched with Ganon’s malice as monsters of all kinds chased him. Bad memories, ones he would much prefer to forget, nevermind what this grand palace would have looked like before the chaos of the Calamity. Zelda hadn’t come to see the rebuilding yet either, despite the idea being raised, similar tainted dreams associated with her old home. It was why she stayed with him back in Hateno, making plans and working towards a goal in the confines of brick instead of the towering stone.

Anywho, Hyrule Castle was renewed and with renewal came new things- these were new hallways. Winding and detailed, new rooms had been carved from the remains of old- the webbing of the skulltula only added to the confusion, everything looking the same.

Damned beasts.

Sneaking by another one of those eight legged monstrosities, Wild dipped out of the room quietly and sped his walk to a silent jog, your arms tightening around him. More lucid now, you clung to the man in fear.

“Is he looking for us?” Your voice was a whisper, soft against his ear and making it twitch. “Or did he give up?”

He hated to quash that small spark of hope that dwindled. “I highly doubt it, not when it’s just the two of us.”

Your terrified whimper broke his heart. “He knows I’m the guide- he thinks I have some sort of magical power.”

It made sense, why else would he drag you here-

“He said he wanted it, he said he was going to tear out my heart-”

“Hey, hey, shhhh, shhhh.” The hero held you close, ducking into a corner away from prying eyes as you silently wept into his shoulder. “I won’t let that happen, do you hear me? He won’t touch a hair on your head.”

You’d cried like this only once before. Terrified, choked out, the hero could remember the weight on his chest and the feeling of fingers gently combing through his hair despite the lack of physical appearance with him. Wild could see the shading trees, leaves blowing in the wind as he laid in a pool of his own blood near the dead centre of Giant’s Forest- the Hinox remains laid just a little ways away.

“Please, Link, please you can’t die-” You choked, his heart hurting at the whimper. “You can’t leave me here alone-”

Wild hadn’t been gifted with Mipha’s grace yet. Too busy challenging himself to do more, beat more, he needed to be perfect when the time came to defeat the evil lurking within the cogs of the Divine Beasts. Better yet the malicious monster that resided in Hyrule Castle.

Yet there he laid, chilling and still in the once luscious green grass.

You had saved him somehow of course you had, someone just as amazing and brilliant as his guide would be the one to pull him from the brink of death. He would later wake from his unconscious slumber, laying somewhere different but bandaged and semi-functioning while you sobbed in relief. You never told him what you did, but he trusted you enough to never ask- after all, he always woke up alive, didn’t he?

Alive and remembering your shaking voice as you pleaded with him not to fall victim to his injuries.

Wild hated your frightened tears but at least this time he could do something about it.

Looking at him, broken and afraid, he moved his hand to gently brush away the wetness cornering your eyes. “I’m here for you, (Name).”

You searched his gaze for hesitation but found only sincerity.

“Do you think you can stand?”

“Y..yeah…”

The blonde helped you to your feet gently, his arm careful around you until finally you could stand on your own shaky legs, fighting back the mental exhaustion of it all. The hero pulled his sword from his sheath with his free hand coming to grab your own before tugging you to follow after him quickly, eyes scanning the area then quietly jogging towards another corner.

Another body slammed right into the both of you.

Winded, you could only manage a yelp, falling back along with the wild hero who portrayed a wide eyed protective rage only to gape at the familiar sight of shaggy brown hair and eyes of emerald green with dusted brown as you all crashed down to the floor below, the other form jumping back in surprise.

Hyrule’s sigh of relief held what could have been mistaken for his soul returning to his form.

“(Name).”

“Rulie-” You were tackled, body almost constricted by his tight hug. “Hyrule- Link-”

“I’m sorry.” He rushed out, his face settled in your hair. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry we couldn’t stop it-”

“‘S’okay-” You sniffled but Hyrule’s shaking breath stopped you.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“...I lost your dagger, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be silly, you’re more important than a measly blade.” You felt a tear drop into your hair, “So much more important.”

Your own hand came to gently brush his hair, brown curls engulfing your fingers as you worked to relax the tension out of his body. Your other hand still grasped Wild’s, squeezing gently at the digits to remind him that you hadn’t forgotten his presence, far from it. The reassurance was met with a grateful squeeze back.

“Come, we must go.” Once again you stood, the three of you a tight knit with the heroes still brandishing glinting swords. “Who knows where the Shadow could be-”

“There you are!” Hyrule flinched, turning back the way he came to see Warriors and Twilight jog down the hallway, only stopping once they had finally gotten closer- none looked please. “Traveller we’ll talk later about your selective hearing- Champion, (Name), are you alright?”

The Captain looked relieved but with an air of professionalism around him, standing tall with both his sword and shield pulled at the ready for combat. Twilight wasn’t quite sitting in the same boat- the anxiety blooming into relief at the sight of you but more so Wild, muttering a soft ‘thank the goddess’ under his breath before stalking closer to slap him upside the head.

“No more idiocy.”

Wild’s face showed understanding but his eyes sung a different chorus. “You and I have different definitions of what counts as idiotic.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“As I said, later,” Warriors insisted, turning back, “I saw an exit not much further back, we can meet the others outside and discuss any previous misgivings when we are whole-”

“There you are.”

Ice.

An icy chill filled the air around you as your stomach dropped right into a pit of despair, the hairs on the back of your neck standing with electrifying effort accompanied by the feeling of dread dragging a sharpened claw right up your spine.

You turned slowly in comparison to the heroes' snapping spins, swords and shields at the ready while staring with eyes of venom at the seeping shadows that curled round the corner of a following hallway at this crossroads of sorts. Darkness lurked, light from the hanging torches blown away by a haunting whispering wind as a murky blackness finally came into view with eyes of red and a mouth pulled to show rows of too many teeth.

How Nintendo had reduced Dink to something so puny was beyond you- he was fucking horrifying.

“Ah, and the heroes of Courage too- what a delight.” Too many voices, couldn’t he just choose one? You covered your ears like a frightened child. “Have you come to see the execution?”

“Shut your mouth, evil scum.” Hyrule hissed, “The only execution we’ll be witnessing is yours when I behead you-”

“Oh do quieten down, Hero of Hyrule, your words aren’t as impressive as you think.” Hyrule huffed in anger and the Shadow cackled, “Awh, have I upset you fairy boy?” 

A phantom red sword flew through the air and Dink dodged with only another laugh, rolling with the darkness beneath his form.

“Oh, almost- better luck- hm? Never.”

From behind you, you felt a shift. Just the tiniest bit of movement but still it had you glancing back quizzically to Twilight, his form stiff and slightly…shaking as panicked eyes stayed focused on the monster in front of you all. You weren’t the only one to notice, however, Wild glancing back in slight concern with Warriors stepping closer to his brother in spirit.

Dink noticed too.

And he smiled wider.

“Hero of Twilight.” He cooed, words dripping honey that hissed and bubbled with underlying poison. “Awh, what’s wrong- seems as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Twilight’s sword shook in a sweating grip. “Shut your mouth-”

“Or maybe you’re just…” The shadows shifted for a moment and you swore you saw the glinting metal of an Iron Knuckle’s helmet staring right back at you. “...scared.”

Twilight’s ears folded back along with his steps, skin paling.

Warriors looked pissed. “Ranch-hand, do not-”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you too, captain.”

Once again, Dink changed, yet this time a younger version of the Captain stared back. 

Warrior’s tensed.

No. No you wouldn’t let this happen. No matter your own heart crushing fear you were not about to let this bastard do this to them. Dink could scare you as much as he wanted, threaten you and nearly end your life but you drew the line at the others, you would not let him scare these heroes just like he scared you.

Fucking bastard, using the weakness of others against them.

“I’ll fucking show you…” A muttered growl did not catch his attention, nor did your movement as you leaned down to grab the convenient crumbled brick just a little ways away then stand once again.

You did this lightning fast, not allowing even a moment of hesitation from you or consideration from them as you ditched the slab right at his face.

Surprised chokes left all of them as Dink yelped in pain then cursed, that same demonic growling from earlier leaving him. Despite his body merged in the darkness you could see the blood curl around his fingers as his hands desperately tried to cover the damaged eye that still glared molten scorn right at your figure.

“You litTLE BRAT!” You flinched at the rage but tightened your resolve, standing just before Warriors and Twilight so he would focus on you. “When I get my hands on you again I’ll tear you limb from limb-”

“I don’t think you can.” You were talking nonsense but you didn’t care. “I think you’re too fucking stupid to- I mean I got away once already, whose to say I can’t just do it again?”

You just loved tempting fate, didn’t you? Tempting her and the devil that she tangoed with as Dink’s pupils shrunk in a frenzied rage while his shadows whipped around him angrily, searching for something to break- something to destroy. Hyrule and Wild stepped a little closer together, acting as a shield in case those tendrils of shade got too close.

“Watch your tongue before I cut it out-”

This time the phantom sword struck and it struck hard, impaling right into the Shadow’s shoulder with a gorey ‘schlink’ that pinned him to the wall behind him. The monster shrieked, gargling in pain with volumes that raised and dropped, tones that lightened and deepened while his hand, holding his bleeding eye moved instead to grasp at his punctured shoulder. 

There wasn’t much else of the scene to watch when you were thrown over someone’s shoulder and rushed away from it all. You tried turning to count heads and see who had grabbed you so quickly but when the sound of rushing footsteps caught your attention. You stared back at Dink who had sunken into the shadows that chased after you all, the light from the torches vanishing as the darkness caved in on the corridor and filled it with nothing but pitch black.

You could only see his eyes.

Haunting, raging eyes as they chased the five of you, stealing the solace of the light to take over with his gloom.

You were hypnotised by the morbid spectacle.

It was fast.

Really fast.

A quick turn almost gave you whiplash but you still watched him run, dementated as he slammed into the wall before shaking off his daze and crawling like a demon against the floor. Still no body, only shadow as you got closer and closer to a large brightness that hung behind you.

“Almost there!”

“Is it still chasing us!?”

“Dear Hylia in heaven-”

You felt its hatred. You felt its  wrath. You felt its bloodlust and you felt your own fear crawling back down your spine. You imagined those scenes in horror movies, the eldritch abomination scrambling over itself as it frantically chased the poor victim through those darkened scenes- this is what it felt like. This was the dread those innocent people experienced. 

You watched helplessly as claws reached out to grab you, infernal cursing catching your ears as its hand loosely missed your saviour’s shirt-

Light almost blinded you as you entered the outside world. The sun glaring down on your small group as they skidded to a stop just before falling right off a collapsing cliff side.

They turned instantly, swords still pulled and ready to fight, your body falling off the shoulder of Hyrule who looked murderous as he kept his sword pointed towards Dink.

The Shadow’s darkness took up the whole of the doorway, twitching and humming with a putrid magic as Dink just stood there. Watching you all with crimson eyes, with black ooze still dripping from one of his sockets along with the hole in his shoulder, he did nothing. Made no move, made no sound, the only thing he did was stare- right at you, centre of the group, burning and hate filled.

You didn’t understand why he didn’t move closer after all he did not burn in the sun. However, maybe the light still had an affect, the monster was a shadow after all and the two did not mix well- maybe this applied to Dink also?

Maybe four was too big of a crowd in the shine of the afternoon sun.

“Well!? What are you waiting for?!” Wild hissed, walking forward only to be grabbed by Twilight. “Fight us, monster!”

Dink’s glare moved to Wild, still just as sinister and vile before he turned back to the darkness and left you at that, standing there and viewing the ordeal with a growing confusion.

Was that…really it?

“Why did it just-”

“Doesn’t matter.” A soberness washed over Warriors, his eyebrows pinching. “If we are to fight him we need the Master Sword, let us return to the group-”

Hyrule’s face was plastered in disbelief. “And just leave that thing there!? It could get away-”

“What would you have us do, traveller!?” The captain looked frazzled, hair messy and eyes wild in contrast to his usual pristine presentation- Dink’s little trick must have gotten to him worse than you had expected. “The Shadow does not die by natural steel, the sword is our only hope!”

Wild looked just as desperate as Hyrule, spinning in Twilight’s grip “So we just leave the beast!? No, if one of us were to return to the others and bring them here-”

“If the beast is still watching us it would be sure to attack if we were alone.” Twilight tightened his hand, a reflex with the champion. “We return to the others whole and discuss a plan.”

“We need to attack while we still have him here!”

An argument bloomed with the men, voices raising along with hands waving but it slowly muffled out the longer that you stood there, eyes still focused on that shaded hallway of trickery and pain.

You had almost died.

The words echoed around your head like a siren in the foggy night, screeching, painful, and anxiety inducing as it clawed at the inner walls of your mind. Scratched in by bloodied fingers of a madman, his fingertips soaked with crimson as he muttered the words like a cruel mantra.

“Dead. Death,” He sung, with a jolly preen, his eyes bloodshot with a lust for pain. “Dying. Suffering. Murdered. Brutalised. Slain. Killed.”

Your breaths became pants. Your pants became chokes. Your chokes became hyperventilating as tears streamed down your face. Clutching desperately at your chest, you frantically heaved for air as your knees buckled beneath you and you fell to the earth below. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, only cry and shake as you tried forcing sound to leave you. A whimper. A moan. A word. Hell, a laugh. Yet nothing seemed to break free.

Digging your nails into the position where your  heart pounded, you twisted your hand in a motion, attempting to tear it out. It didn’t work, it wasn’t doing its damn job- better it laid in the dirt with the insects than inside you if it would only serve to be damaged goods.

Nonetheless, you finally managed something. Moments of struggling dragged into hours of torture finally minimalised when you sucked in a massive portion of air, body arching from the pain as you forced it into your lungs.

And you screamed.

Ears ringing as it progressed from a small yell to a blood-curdling wail, voice refusing to break as you tore your throat to let out everything you had bottled down in that last horrible hour.

It had only been an hour.

Your head slammed against the dirt, body curling into itself as you felt your throat grow raw from the excessive shriek. A violent reaction, a bubble ran up your throat and you gagged, pushing yourself higher and hurling your digested breakfast all over the ground, scrunching your watering eyes shut in an effort to avoid the scene of acid and chunks sullying the earth.

Hands reached you, your name being called but it didn’t stop the repeat of gags and sobs.

Your body finally gave out.

[zeroducks-2]

I was thinking of something my gf said about Under The Red Hood, about the whole "did Bruce hit Jason in the neck or shoulder" conundrum.

I hadn't really wondered about it too much previously, I just assumed Bruce is a fucking asshole because he threw a batarang at this boy who supposedly was like a son to him, after getting him back from the dead, at the very high risk of killing him. Like idgaf of the circumstances okay? Fuck off Bruce. So it's not like I really cared if that was the shoulder or the neck (even if it does look like the neck) because it's the principle that's fucked up.

But anyway, recently my gf said something and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I went back to UTRH and looked for panels and GODDAMNIT SHE'S RIGHT-

So, the answer to the question "did Bruce aim for Jason's neck or shoulder when he threw that batarang?" can be answered with BOTH. Let me explain.

The scene is Bruce and Jason's last confrontation in UTRH, and they just started to fight. It's a brutal fight made even more desperate because chemo has just been dropped on Bludhaven and Bruce cannot physically go check on Dick because Jason is preventing him, so they're both desperate, no one is pulling the punches.

it starts out like this:

With a batarang thrown behind Jason that bounces back from a close distance, and which allows Jason to choose his wound, because it's aimed to his shoulder and head.

Sounds familiar? Basically this blow is thrown in a way that takes away someone's balance, forcing them to move from a spot if they want to avoid a potentially fatal blow. Jason dodges of course and gets hit on the side of the shoulder, giving back with one of "his tricks", and the fight continues.

Now take a look at how the fight ends:

with the same opening blow, a batarang thrown behind Jason, aimed at his shoulder and head. Clearly aimed to destabilize Jason and make him let go of the Joker, but Jason does not move and does not let go until after he's been hit.

The implications of this are huge. It's a known fact that Jason does not think he's going to walk out of this alive, but here he actively chose to let Bruce hit him in the neck, solid on his position until the end.

There's also a bit, a few panels prior, regarding how both Jason and Bruce wouldn't fall for the same trick twice:

Never twice.

Bruce used the same move twice with that batarang throw, and again it implies that Jason should have seen it coming and he did. Bruce won, in the sense that he managed to not do what Jason demanded - shoot him through his face or watch the Joker die - he "managed to find a way to win" and keep his conscience relatively clean because he didn't shoot a gun, and it was Jason's decision not to move and to let that batarang hit him in the neck when he could have dodged it. And everybody still loses.

DC writers do have a tendency to depict Jason having suicidal tendencies. I'm pretty sure at this point that it comes from this, and that whatever the fuck happens in RHATO when Bruce beats the living hell out of him, and Jason does not defend himself, is supposed to be some kind of parallel to this particular dyamic of UTRH (a bad parallel but still).

I rest my case.

[mcmactictac]

alrighty full series finished bullet point thoughts. Spoilers ahead for the empty grave. Duh

-slowburn of the century. Somehow him giving her the necklace that’s symbolic of his fathers undying devotion for his mother is more peak romance than the two of them actually kissing.

-Kipps isn’t dead! I jumped to conclusions too quickly! Thank you reassuring people in my asks!

-ALSO is Holly queer!! Im just saying the hints are there with her female “roommate” and Lockwood not being her type and all that? Im a lesbian Holly truther

-George and Flo also really grew on me like yes so true

-the narrative progression of the series is great the way that every book builds on itself in pieces? Like it feels like a series that you know the author knew what the plan was when they started it and I appreciate that.

-LOVED the double emphasis of this title with Marissa’s grave being empty (of her bones at least) and Lockwoods waiting grave at his family plot. Terrific way of doing it

-The skull grew on me so much dude I’m glad it got let out and has the freedom to do whatever it wants now. Loving those implications

-great way to wrap up a series? Felt very real. The problem is not magically fixed, but there’s hope as they move forward to something better. Like it’s not a nice neat little bow that ties everything perfectly together but it gives you enough information to be satisfied with the outcome

-so endearing. They’re all so endearing. I said it once and I’ll say it again the found family vibes are truly impeccable.

-also Lucy literally swinging on a trapeze across the entire theatre to save Lockwood

-on top of that the parallels between Lucy and Lockwood and their recklessness and suicidal tendencies. Like Lucy going to face Marissa alone is such a thing she would be mad at Lockwood for doing

-I liked that stakes and a sense of danger were easily created without having to kill off any of the main characters. Like I’m glad they all get to be alive and happy

-very good series, terrific writing, funny, and yet so real.

Ok that’s my main summary of thoughts I’m sure that I’ll have more later <3

[lavenderhhaze]

野生の花 - WILDFLOWER

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader, minho x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

about: where before Minho, it had been Hyunjin — your inconsolable, melancholic, kill-myself sort of best friend. And it could have been love, in another time, another place.

warnings: toxic and manipulative friendships, implications to self harm, underage alcohol consumption, smoking, buildings on fire, mention of blood and injuries, suicidal tendencies, implications to cheating and sex, hickeys, fistfights and swearing, generally flawed characters

written as an entry for @skzwritingcafe's May/June event: blossoming love

Hyunjin likes to pretend he met you in college, burrying the shattered history of all those intricate losses carefully and neatly under his chest. He likes to pretend he isn't aware that you were a wildflower, with a talent of winding yourself around whichever finger is his weakest.

All the days of you and him only become hues pulsing in his chest, a memory too distant to remember. That summer he spent with you, when you had kissed him at fifteen, all a sweet game of pretend — a soft mauve. That evening you had spent, your arm twisted with his, both reluctant and unwilling to let go — a muted gold. And after all, everyday you have spent with him since, where he's yours, wholly and truly, although he'll never admit — a withering peach.

A fortnight ago, when air blew through autumn's teeth, ending the summer that had lasted all of six weeks, you had pointed at the fading sunset.

"Do you remember?" you had said, "Last year? The last day of summer?"

But Hyunjin didn't want to remember. Although he did; the last day of summer you had spent with him at the backroom of Ian's, cracking open warm beer cans and pretending to be regular highschool kids.

He was sick of remembering, he had said. To him, memory was punishment. You had winced, recoiling within yourself, almost ashamed.

And so he had reached across, long fingers easily finding yours, tangling and untangling in an undecided rhythm — that he would choose, always forever. He pulls them closer, his face finding home between your hands, kissing your wrist in spots he had memorized. Although seeming carefree, it's a game he played intently, purposefully.

Eyes on you, so brown and bold — tiger eyes, you had called them, aptly so. Unloved and free.

"What about Felix? He's waiting for you."

How voice is concerned, far from genuine, you know. Although in the way he looks at you, eyebrows drawn together, amber flickering amongst the brown, asking you to cave.

"I should go."

And only then, his grip would tighten; loose enough for you to pull away but just enough for you to know. He only stares, giving everything away but a word. I will get drunk and kiss strangers and dance all night with my friends. I'll cry for you on the kitchen floor but I won't ask you to stay.

And you cave. Again. As you have done all your life.

It has been so since fifteen. Shared earphones and holding hands, naps with his head on your shoulder — fresh coffee on his breath — in the school bus, the glass from the window so cold under your cheek and the occassional splatter of raindrops against your ear. The August air, fresh and ripe, eating you both alive from the inside, with noone noticing.

Hyunjin all but breaks into a smile, scrunched up eyes, wrinkles of happiness — the sort of smile you hoped would stick around forever. Your best friend, your only friend.

That evening is one of many, leaning back and exhaling smoke when his fingers run up and down your scalp, making up the prettiest braids you have seen.

It is hard to tell what you both have, you haven't figured it out yet, despite the last six years of the same ups and downs you shared.

It's hard to tell because of the album he keeps of you, winters and summers and springs, birthdays spent wishing on burning candles and frosting swiped on your cheeks, you folding laundry in a tshirt two sizes too big — his tshirt. You — April's wind in your hair, in the balcony with the sun against your skin, hands sticky with lemonade.

When you say you miss summer; you mean you miss summer, three years ago.

It's hard to tell because he'd kiss your cheeks, your hair, your eyes; smelling of peaches and dewy mornings. Shuffling of footsteps and slamming of doors, he'd drive you fucking wild but not ask you to stay.

Because right then, when you're falling on love again, he'd be gone. With her, flaunting his Cheshire cat smile, tiger eyes glinting with intent — that she caught on to, easy. His smell still lingers, only on her this time. Permanence marked neatly with the heart shaped bruises on her neck.

And Felix had arrived — all apologetic for a mistake you made, patting your head and murmering sweet nothings although he didn't understand.

Where is Hyun? He tests the waters, uncomfortable with the air, so thick and humid.

Gone to smoke, you lie through clenched teeth, hoping if the words were smaller, reality would be too.

And yet you know, if he had gone to smoke, you would be there too. Outside — where it was warm and blue, and still April. Smoke of one cigarette shared with the parts of him that will always remain untamable, messy and reckless. And you'd love him, regardless.

When Hyunjin would return, hours later; you never ask, because you already know.

"So, Felix huh?" he says the name like sandpaper on his tongue, anger unraveling right in front of you; jealousy and anger — both terrible for him. "It's like he's in love with you, or something."

"In love?" You taste the words, rich and sweet, not sounding like the terrible terrible thing Hyunjin made it seem.

"In fucking love."

"When you say it like that, it makes it seem so small."

Hyunjin's face is lit up by a stop sign, bathed in a crimson red — screaming at you to stop and you only wish you could. His fingers entangled neatly with yours, he all but smiles at you, eyes reduced to amber cresents.

You let him guide you to the same old rooftop, a narrow stairway to a wooden deck, underneath two sturdy laundry poles.

The same old rooftop where you had spent an evening smoking and watching an empty building burn, at fifteen — March 3rd, a grim and groggy afternoon.

Huge clouds and awful black smoke following the breeze towards the high street. The sound of sirens and the smell of burning — you were so sure the fire would never touch you.

You had stared at the two fire engines working on the flames and workers pushing back the usual crowd of gawkers. Everyone loved a tragedy, especially so when they knew the end to be appalling.

And you had only leaned back, against the lazy thrum of Hyunjin's heartbeat, his arm winding around your shoulders as he hummed a shifting tune.

"We can get away from there," you had glanced at the narrow lane running along the two story building, just enough for one person to squeeze through. "If the fire gets too close."

"I'm not running away."

"Even if this place burns?"

"You heard me," he had looked at you, brown eyes — rich and deep, "I don't mine dying."

It was thrown away so easily, as if you had always known : your inconsolable, melancholic, kill-myself sort of best friend; ready to end his life in a flash fire.

"Okay," you shrugged, settling back comfortably in his chest. "I'll stay with you."

Dusty cobwebs hang from the laundry rods like heartstring decors, and Hyunjin was vibrant, love dripping from his eyes — just the way he looked at you. Then he had looked down to his feet and turned away to hide in his lie.

"You'll die with me?"

"No way," you had said, smile already reaching your eyes. "I'm getting right the fuck away if the fire gets too close. You can die alone if you want to."

"Cold hearted bastard."

And he had laughed, shoving you away — so full and complete. Another one of the photographs he keeps preserved in the album.

The rest of the evening spent admiring the fire that flared up and died down several times. Glass had shattered twice and the crowd only grew, morphing into awkward shapes when the policeman had screamed at the bystanders to move back. A column of smoke spiralled upwards into the sky, withering at the edges like smudged charcoal.

"Tired, Sunshine?" he had asked, gazing blankly as the fire engines returned to their base, thier red lights spinning ghastly shadows.

"Not really," you had shrugged, catching him looking at you again.

Tired eyes, star-map skin, veins making pretty patterns underneath his porcelain skin. The way he had glanced at you — in a daze, in a dream; the early summer sun casting the shadow of his lashes on his cheeks.

And if it wasn't for that burning building, Hyunjin wouldn't have kissed you that evening. It was soft and gentle, contained within itself with no further intent. Glittering rooftops and flickering flames, smelling of cheap cigarettes and firecrackers.

It was meant to preserve the feel, the scent of burning wood with his hand on her neck and your fingertips sliding up his chest. Only then, you had dared to think — something that might have been love. He was taking up your whole world; all you could see, all you could feel.

And he had been the first to pull away. A mistake, Sunshine. Not again. And you had cried, tears setting in the creases from smiling at your knack for misfortune. He had wiped them away, index finger slotting under your chin and thumbs on your cheeks; accompanied by the unending chant of I love you, I love you. Although he liked to hide it behind his possessiveness and cowardice.

When you were younger, everything seemed so permanent, but as you get older, it drifts away.

It wasn't love, you think. But it wasn't nothing either.

Stolen glances at the schoolbus, visiting his parents' bookstore just to get a glimpse of him, laughing so grandly at his ridiculous jokes, feeling giddy when you're knees touch and pausing before you breathe his name, enjoying the way yours sounds, rolling off of his tongue.

It wasn't love, you decide. It could have been, if you had let it go that far. In another time, another place, it could have been love.

Now, he sits right across from you, peeling a clementine, breaking it into near halves and handing one to you, wordless. You can still see the bruises on his neck, one right below his earlobe — almost a heart, not quite dissapearing, not yet.

"So," he drawls, fingers winding around your elbow to pull you closer, "What about Felix?"

"It's nothing," you say, honestly, although you wish it wasn't true. Jealousy looks good on Hyunjin, albiet eating away at him from the inside. "And that girl? What about her?"

You can feel him smile, almost teasing; he repeats, "It's nothing."

You know it's a lie. Disgustingly sweet. Apple blossoms and pink lemonades. Heart shaped bruises and his scent — the smell of summer. And you laugh.

"What?" He draws closer, his smile only growing, the corners of his lips turned up— stealing your breath and handing it back to you with open palms. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't."

And he's flowers in your stomach, cutting you open and blooming through your ribs. And you decide, love isn't gentle. With Hyunjin, love is gritty and possesive. Love has teeth, biting away at the wounds that do not heal.

"Smart girl."

He doesn't stop you. He doesn't as you to stay. But you do so regardless — because he gives you everything you want. Holding his hands, wearing his sweaters, his head on your shoulder, windows flung wide open when he kisses underneath your ear. And just as easily — he takes it all away.

"I'll be out tonight, Sunshine."

His eyes are a challenge, dirt-brown and cold — gleaming like the slightly damp tiles of a club's bathroom. You have seen this scene before, with a terrible terrible ending.

With her again? Lips stained a lollipop red, a testing quirk asking you to say it.

Ask me to stay and I will. I'll drop the fucking world, and I'll stay.

You swallow the protests that rise up your throat, deep breaths and shallow exhales.

"Have fun."

You shrug, and he fades away. You stare at the sun for too long and it blinds you. Yet you're hypnotised by the light — by his light, terrified to look away, surrounded by pitch-black again.

Even past one, the rain all but a faint drizzle on the cold glass window — you think of him again. The sky a diluted cream, no moon, no stars.

At 3:30, the rain seizes. The door clicks open and the sink runs, punctuated by heavy footsteps.

You see Hyunjin again, and he looks a lot like heartbreak. A little bit unravelled, ivory hair in wisps, yesterday's white shirt in wrinkles, fingertips kissed red in his own blood. His expression is wistful and his eyes warm.

He hears the rustle of the bedsheets to find you sitting up in your single bed — alarmed. Open windows and fluttering curtains, you against the starless night through curtains of thin white lace.

"Sunshine, you awake?"

"Did you walk yourself to a fucking wall, Hyunjin?"

He laughs, a little bit broken in its rhythm but his laugh nonetheless. There is more blood — a smudge of crimson against his bottom lip, a purple vein prominent against the thin skin of his forehead, his skin cracking open under his eye. All bronze and bite. Venom and fistfight.

He sits on the marble counter, back against the cold white tiles. The white lights too bright, but you refused to turn them off. You're scared of the dark. You're scared of who you are in the dark.

The small bathroom of your shared apartment smells a lot like self-hate. Self-hate, old blood and antiseptic — the smell stinging the tip of your tongue.

Hyunjin hisses as the you dab at the cut under his bottom lip.

"Easy there, Sunshine. It stings."

You ignore his protest, hands travelling upwards to clean the cut under his eye. His skin is ash and honey, eyes glazed over as they study you, hands on your hips to keep you steady. His rain-damp hair pressed against the skin of his neck and his silver earings glinting in the excess light.

He's a constellation — with one star missing.

He extends a hand, an invitation, a demand; only to brush away the hair that falls on your face. And you let him because you miss him, although he sits right in front of you — bright eyed and rough edged.

"What are you thinking so hard about?"

You and him — this endless loop. His hand on your waist, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. The curve of his neck. The stretch of his spine. You and him — a couple of sinners making fun of hell.

"Why do you call me Sunshine?"

He smiles again, eyes reduced to honey -coloured cresents — blurry like the edges of his favourite photograph. He smells of a strange cologne, something older, as his hands wind tight around your waist, drawing you closer. His touch is burning, hands slow and patient.

"Because you love summers."

Because, Sunshine, you are my summer. But you hear the words die in his throat — his gaze still just as fond, laughter spilling from bleeding lips mid sentence.

That night, he sleeps in your bed, talking of every summer you had counted with him. It was Felix's brother — Minho. He punched me in the face because I called him a two-faced cunt. You feel him shift, tangling the sheets even further. I didn't lie, did I?

The wind shifts back and forth, constructing and expanding; and it hurts to breathe. You're scared to swallow your words, afraid of the damage but you know you can't stand still.

"I liked him, Hyun."

Your voice breaks. And you think of the line he drew in the sand you just can't get past. Stupid fucking boy that sucked the fucking life out of you. And you let him.

You hear a weighted exhale. Silence falling off of his tongue and settling between you both. His arm around your midriff as the night swallows you whole. And the diffused light glances off of his shoulders — he's staring right at you. You would have called him an angel; you would have, in another place, another time.

Are we still just friends if it's your breath and mine, late at night with our fingers laced under our covers?

Hyunjin was missing again, and you laugh at how you're obsessed with the smallest things — the feeling of his lips against your cheek when he had kissed you goodnight, you lost in pretend sleep. I'll be back, Sunshine. You sleep coiled around yourself, tightly wound. Hands in fists under your pillows, salt tears drying on your cotton bedsheets.

You think the sun has set for the tenth time that week, days spent avoiding your gaze in the mirror. And was it June? The days growing smaller until the sun could fit in the palm of your hand, like the world has stopped spinning and you're only glad. Summer is your permanent, raging on and on.

Until it rains, mid-June, with no sign of Hyunjin. All you recieve is one text, I'm all good, sweetheart. I'll be right with you. Soon. Take good care. One you don't have the heart to reply to, only laughing at how rushed he makes it seem. Soon. I'll be right with you.

And that's all you remember from June — rain. And him. Slender fingers wrapped around his order of coffee, other hand slipping his reciept in the front pocket of his light wash jeans, silver rings glinting under the little light they can catch. That day when you had talked yourself into wandering off to the campus café, too miserable to mope in your now lonely apartment.

When he had slipped into the seat opposite yours, catching you grumbling about how romantic love hadn't died after all. He had followed your line of sight — couples and couples, stolen glances, shared jackets, fingers interlaced across tables and shared laughter.

"Not quite the romantic, I see," he had laughed, slender fingers rising to cover his mouth and his rings catch your eyes again.

"You can't blame me."

The rain is a constant, beating down at the big glass windows adjacent your shared booth, the sound oddly comforting.

"Minho," he smiles again, looking up from his coffee, so formal that you're afraid he'll extend a hand for you to shake. Ivory hair cropped neatly under his ears, front pieces long and damp, falling on his eyes. Something about him is softer and kinder than anyone you have known — missing that sharp edge Hyunjin was all about.

"I know."

And how could you not? All you remember is Hyunjin's bloodied knuckles and smudged lips, the star shaped scar blooming underneath his eye; all under the fluorescent bathroom light. Minho seems almost too gentle to have fists that hard.

"Of course, you do."

He catches the edge of your voice, eyebrows raised. He smells of something older, seasalt and caramel — you decide. The type to have his coffee with creamer and foam, unlike Hyunjin, an expresso enthusiast and nothing else.

It's still pouring — the trees growing greener before your eyes. And you're worried you have no excuse to be miserable anymore.

It is June and you're tired of being brave. You're weary of counting days as if they never end, nights falling short of your only comfort — your best friend. And still, that evening you allow Lee Felix to drag you to his graduation party because you haven't learnt to refuse him yet.

He's all freckles and sunshine, golden blonde hair and vanilla perfume; opening windows and drawing curtains with all intended dramatics — full, cherry lips and silver teeth.

"You'll fucking love it, yeah?"

You nod meekly, in a weak attempt to mirror his enthusiasm — because that's all you can do.

You had been to this apartment twice before — both with Hyunjin, a hand wrapped around your waist, secure. Giggling at his theatrics, lips stained the red of cranberries, when it we was still summer.

You draw the line past four shots, cringing at the bitter taste lingering in your throat that reminds you of your best friend; because with him you had learnt to drink, and drink more; drawing on concrete with pink chalk and beer cans in hand.

"Not quite into drinking either, huh?"

Salt air and caramel. You remember that voice. Smile lines and cat eyes — in a shirt that was a deep shade of green. Ivory hair falling over his eyes, deep-set and black, staring with intent. Minho reminds you a lot of rain.

"It's okay though," he cracks a grin, lowering the solo cup in his hands — a glimpse of plain orange soda. Quite fitting. And gentle. "Just the same."

You smile. For what seems like the first time in months, and you're scared of what happiness feels like. After weeks of numb, numb and numb. Happiness feels a lot like a trashy graduation party, sharing laughter with the one responsible for the bruises on your best friends chest, standing of sticky floors with spilt beer.

"Don't want to get drunk today."

Happiness is odd, surrounded in grey and shrouded in rain; especially when you're lacking the heavy weight of Hyunjin's palm in yours, your purse slung on his shoulder.

"I know."

It's the same sharp tone you had used in the café, sounding harsher with the flush of your cheeks that those four shots gave you. He knows. His smile a little cryptic when he sips on his orange soda, eyes glimmering like fistfuls of confetti. Splintered blue shadows dance on his face.

"You know," his voice is dry, old, experienced. One hand plays with the silver ring on his delicate, orange stained fingers. "You can't make someone love you back my loving them harder."

You know, you want to say. But did you really? All you know is loving someone isn't supposed to leave you with bruised knees and still you wander off, spending an evening with a boy with an orange soda cup — with an idea of what love looks like, and only a suspicion of what it feels like.

He's animated — all hands and fingers, words and laughter, when he raises his brows and widens his eyes to get his point across, " I told him, right? But no, he had to sneak the dogs in. What a fucking asshole. This is why we can't have nice things."

"You have him shit for it?"

"Of course, I gave him shit for it. I'm a cat guy through and through."

Minho lingers like petrichor after rain, and for once you wish the warm night doens't end. When he lifts his head and smiles with a timid offer to walk you home — the brightest goddamn star you have ever seen. And for a moment you almost believe you could start again.

"Sunshine."

Your heart breaks at his voice, the familiarity of it all no less distressing when you walk in to find him curled weakly at the headboard of his cold bed. He's a wilted flower — your best friend in his beautiful, broken magnificence.

You don't answer — choosing to linger at the door; because really, what could you say? I missed you. And then let him rip your heart out again?

Hyunjin looks tired, patient and awaiting — arms open for you to settle in, daring you to refuse. He's the sun, after all; and you his summer. A tattoo peeks at you from the neck of his collared shirt, a butterfly wrapped neatly around his collarbone.

He catches you looking, raising his hand to thumb at the still unhealed skin with splinters of red, "It's meant to symbolise rebirth, I guess. Kinda fitting, don't you think?"

Rebirth. New beginnings. New love. Because he chose to leave? You want to scream — maybe burning is better than drifting apart.

He's wide awake when you take a seat next to him — bigger and louder than he has ever been. He reminds you a lot of the boy you fell in love with at fifteen.

At fifteen, smiling at porcelain faces only for them to not smile back at you — exept for one. And you were in love. The moonlight sliding off of him and collecting in his arms. His shuddering underneath your fingertips as you had traced his cuts with antiseptic.

A gash running down his neck, a bruise on his collarbone and another where his jaw met his near. And you're only thankful it wasn't bruised ribs this time.

"Doesn't it hurt?" you had whispered, his face still in your hands — he's bleeding sunlight and you're trying to patch up the cuts, "When he treats you like that?"

The neon light had flickered and momentarily, it was just Hyunjin and the moonlight — an angel. He only stared at you and you were afraid you'd cry. You read his words though, spilling from honey-coloured eyes: it's okay, Sunshine, it's not as if I love him anyways.

Thankyou, he had said. His voice too soft to be a teenager's — but again, he had never been as young as you.

He's now twenty, staring at you with the yellow light from the table lamp hitting his jaw just right. He looks like a child again, small and vulnerable — like he's just crawled into his parent's bed after a nightmare, exept he has never known comfort like that.

It's still summer for him, the balcony door slightly ajar. It's summer for as long as he can pretend.

"I got something for you."

An instant coffee jar with airholes on the lid, a few blades of grass and some water and a firefly — competing with the yellow lights with only a feverish glow.

You hadn't seen a firefly in years, and the ones from your memory were far more brighter, brilliant. For you, fireflies were the sickly sweet smell of summer nights, forest spirits, salt air and youth. Stretching in the sun and enjoying the little life offered you with open hands until it grew too loud — swarming and seething, showing you it's teeth.

"It's a firefly," he announces, a little hesitant, a little proud. And it reflects off of his eyes like two tiny chips of gold.

"You visited home?"

Home sounds sour on your tongue, too alien. Just swirls of dust from the street because your hometown was no home — and he notices too.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because it's lonely."

And you know the sort of loneliness he means. The longing of walking aimlessly busy street in the evening, watching the city lights glow from the window — a thousand lives walk right past you and life is really to big to be enjoyed. And it is lonely, it always has been.

"Did you meet anyone?"

He huffs a short breath, close enough to be a laugh, "Saw Chan once, apparently he's getting engaged."

"Really?"

It's bittersweet — watching the people you once loved leave to have a life outside of you. The teenaged Chan, all poised and responsible, overworked to the point of hysteria but not quite and the older Chan — wiser, gentler, softer. You've never gotten rid of him despite three years of no contact. You can grow apart but never break apart. And you're scared it'll be the same for Hyunjin.

"I feel like I'm wasting my time, you know?"

"On what?" He asks, innocent and unblinking, hands clasped between his knees and chin lifted towards the yellow light. The firefly slides down the glass walls.

On you. On us. The words catch in your throat, holding his gaze is if it's a stranger's. And he catches on, because he always did.

"You know I love you right?"

You nod. But really, did you? It's raining, but it's just ache in your ear. A white noise.

He sighs — a deep exhale, a hand reaching for you to pull you close. As if all you both do isn't just messing around and pretending to be whole. The light slides off of his shoulders and he grips your hands, that's what he's always done — setting himself on fire so he can burn the brightest.

"I love you as far as love goes," you inhale, waiting for the catch in his words, hands held tight. "But, Sunshine, some people aren't meant to be together."

Because he's all youth — travelling and moving and flowing. You don't want to be the dark sky for him to be the star.

"You deserve more than that."

He smiles at your silence, hands drawing you even closer, "Maybe in another universe I'd ask you to run away with me."

And you smile too, but it's bitter — because you know, even in another universe, your answer would be yes.

And you're afraid he'll cry for the first time, hiding his face in your shoulder. You cannot bear it because this time it's sadness shared. Your hands run a familiar path up and down his spine.

"You know?" he breathes, drawing back and clearing his throat. His hair is messy, a passing breeze on a still summer day, a little bit unravelled. "I saw you and Minho."

"You did?"

"Yeah," he smiles at you as if it's the beginning of the world, hands holding your face — warm and soft. "I'm so fucking happy for you."

It's June and you're four shots past where you should have stopped. You're lying on the floor, curled up on the edge of you're bed. It's raining against the window, hard. Hyunjin has been missing since the second shot. But Minho is there, drawing circles on your temples because he doesn't drink.

You hold his hand, fingers threading into his. And he smiles — like you're his whole fucking world.

"You're a guy, right?"

He chuckles, still stroking your hair, his silver rings cold to your temple, "I think so."

"Do guys feel sad?"

His hands still and his smile cuts itself in half because he thinks you know. His arms are around you and the air is too thin to breathe. You don't know about the skeletons that would occasionally slip out of his closet to show themselves in the mirror. Or the thin blade in the back of his wallet he had fished out from his father's pencil sharpener at fifteen. Not yet. You don't.

And still, you're there for him when he exhales a shaky breath, offering shelter for as long as he needs it.

Minho shrugs, his smile returning but not quite. His head is heavy next to yours.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Like an absent father, Hyunjin had never quite been there. Stealing himself from you and returning half-starved. And you kept mothering dying things.

But now, he's here. He's there, although drunk off of his mind, when Minho jokes about asking to marry you at the local McDonald's at midnight — waiting for the lights and cola to sober you and Hyunjin up before you'd cross the road to return home.

He's there, enthusiastic and giddy, clapping hands and deciding roles. He'd be the priest and Felix the flowergirl.

He's there — walking home drunk and giddy to get a suit although Minho only wore a sweater and jeans, sliding a ring pop on your finger and kissing your drunken champagne lips.

He's there, laughing and cheering and drinking even more. Hugging you tight under the neon lights of the McDonald's diner.

"I'll be the godfather," he says. I'm so proud of where you are, you hear.

June ends with the wedding and July starts white — an endless field with white daisies. The first weekend is for Minho and you, climbing up the stairs to his apartment's roof, ducking under laundry poles to stare at the full, white moon.

He's radiant, the moonlight catching on his shoulder. His dark eyes are caught on you and you know what they look like when he's in love. He's warm and familiar, solid and safe.

Car headlights flow in the endless traffic underneath — the traffic thick with the scent of petrol strong enough to taste. This time you know what love feels like. Walking home with a fever of happiness each evening, his name in your mouth.

The firefly jar is heavy in your hands, the firefly bumps against the glass walls, it's dim light flickering. You twist open the jar and tilt it, Minho's hand a welcome weight on your back as you see the firefly climb the edge of the jar.

It walks a few steps, crouching on the lid, unmoving. The wind sweeps past, almost taking the firefly along with it, it's paper thin wings struggling against it.

"It's not moving," you whisper.

"Give it some time, sweetheart."

You wait for ever. The wind rustles in your ear and the firefly makes no move to fly.

Much later, does it take to the air. It's light diming and brightening in a rhythm as it flies past the laundry poles, and traces a swift arc towards the building. It's light lingers for a few seconds only to be scattered by the wind, dissapearing into the slow moving traffic.

You watch Minho as he reaches for the lingering light, smiling when he grasps nothing.

"Tell me a secret."

He pauses, his lips quirking with intrigue, "What kind of secret?"

"Any kind."

"I don't have a secret."

"You're lying, everyone has secrets."

His eyes wander as he pretends to think, and he's golden under the moonlight with the wind running it's fingers through his hair. Silver rings glinting at you as he taps his chin childishly.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

It's drizzling, raindrops running down his temples — the slant of his brow and the curve of his neck. You remember his shaking hands in you're when he had hugged you for the first time.

"Spiders."

You laugh, without it sounding hollow on the inside, watching as his lips curve into a smile. The night no longer feels like splinters on your skin.

"You're joking."

"No, really. It's the legs, I think. Or the eyes."

"Tell me another one, then."

He leans over, studying you with a smile like rose and satin. The drizzle lingers, dampening the wave of his hair, his eyes brimming with possibility. You know what happiness feels like — finding every lost bone and fitting it in place.

"I love you."

A/N: took like two months to write — it's a sweetheart of mine. so much murakami inspiration. please leave comments bc i really wanna know what you think.

[starfall-isle]

The robotniks make me lose it to think about. the way Eggman views his creations, gives them sentience, and then manipulates and twists their emotions into loyalty, his love being born of pride ,his clear favoritism, the implications of how he looks back on Maria and whatever family he was raised by almost with envy and jealousy, his idealization of Gerald leading to eggmans biggest instance of sincerity and reflectiveness to date after SA2 (and just all of Geralds shit in general .how his love for shadow was still born out of ulterior motivations and ultimately when it came down to it how he didn’t view shadow as a person with autonomy and was willing to hurt and use him as a vessel for own grief and revenge, knowing he was sending him on a suicide mission after manipulating his last memories of his dying sister or whatever. fuck Gerald) shadow’s complicated interactions with Eggman throughout the series, Sage repeating the pattern of self-sacrifice in a way that mirrors Gerald and Shadow’s relationship, robotnik kids’ tendency for martyrism in general!! the fact that Sage will still be working for Eggman against the planet and people she learned to care for because!!! She loves her dad and it’s a sincere love between them but she is still something to be used by eggman and even though she has respect for sonic she will be put in a position of loyalty vs morality no matter what because she just wants to be loved and be a family!!!  Messed up!

[apollodarling-writes]

hxh yandere main four x gn reader??:))

YAN! HXH MAIN FOUR X GN! READER HCS

I did a poly, sharing situation. I hope that was what you were looking for.

its pretty shit, so I'm sorry

tws: stalking, murder, gaslighting, manipulation, implications of noncon, abuse, drugging, Stockholm, vague descriptions of injury, noncon somnophilia, forced pregnancy for afab readers, memory loss

MINORS ARE AGED UP!!!

Killua would develop this kind of attraction to someone because of their caring and kind nature. Maybe they're gentle to everyone and love to take care of people.

Maybe you took care of him when he was injured and made him good food, or perhaps he met you in the Hunter Exam. Either way, good fucking luck.

Killua grew up with a family of assassins and did not have the nurture a child needs. Illumi is extremely possessive of Killua and these habits were passed on to Kill himself.

Therefore, Killua thinks these habits are normal and when he confides in Gon about this, finding out that Gon has these same obsessive tendencies, he'll be even more inclined to do what he wants.

Gon grew up without his mother and father so he's obsessed with having a family one day. When he falls in love with you, it feeds into this delusion of keeping you safe from all harm so that one day you two can have the family he so desperately wants.

Gon doesn't have a specific type, but he does like the idea of having someone to protect.

When Gon and Killua are paired as yanderes, they're unstoppable.

Killua is a training, confining, princess love type, obsessive, delusional, possessive, overprotective, manipulative, stalker, monopoly yandere. He's not above hurting you

Gon is a delusional, confining, delusional, monopoly, obsessive, dependent, murder-suicide, self-harm, overprotective, training, manipulative, removal yandere.

Killua's training is vastly different from Gon's. Killua will hurt you, break bones, sever muscles, and then he will build you back up.

Gon is the softer training type. He'll be upset with you, but will whisper ever so softly, 'this is why you should let me protect you.' and proceed to manipulate and gaslight you while he cleans you up.

Gon and Killua, if provoked enough will kidnap you. They'll chain you their bed and monitor you, leave you in the care of Illumi for missions (which is never a good thing because the entire time they're gone, you have no human interaction outside of Illumi feeding you).

Gon and Killua like to drug you when you're 'misbehaving' so that it's easier to punish you. Oftentimes, their punishments consist of looooong 'lovemaking' sessions. They'll overstimulate you so much that you'll promise not to do it again.

If you are afab, Gon and Killua will force a pregnancy upon you, no matter how that may affect you.

Killua wakes up a lot during the night, and sometimes he just can't resist using your body for his pleasure.

Kurapika became a yandere shortly after he fell in love with you. After his clan's massacre, he just couldn't afford to lose you too, so he always has tabs on you.

Kurapika is the chill yandere in this relationship. As long as you're in sight, he doesn't care what you do. That doesn't mean that Gon and Killua won't kill someone if Kurapika gives them the go-ahead, though.

Please, please, please don't make Kurapika angry with you. He will tell Killua and you will not like it.

Kurapika wants you to lean on him more than anyone else, so he does his best to worm his way into your heart and psyche.

Leorio is the insecure one in this relationship. How can he compete with the others? He can't protect you and he can't use nen, so why does he think he has a shot?

Leorio is the only one in this relationship who knows that these feelings of obsession are wrong, but he can't bring himself to stop.

Leorio is the insecure type. He thinks he's inferior to the others and often wonders if he even stands a chance.

If he decides that he doesn't... watch out.

Leorio will kill you and then himself.

[turtleblogatlast]

So you said your p!Leo caught the attention of the prison dimension because of his strong will and determination. What If he loses that will? As his brother die, as he's left 16, as he watches April's grandchildren wither to old age... will he lose his will to survive? Will the dimension give him up because he's not a bright spot anymore?

Also, I love your aninatic idea! I would LOVE to see it!

[ cw: death implication / suicidal tendencies implication / ]

Great question!! To answer, it’s moreso that his resilience is what initially caught it’s “attention”. What made it stay was his very soul - it specifically called to him as a flame that wouldn’t go out no matter how dim it became. His soul is bright, shining and blinding in the vast expanse of grey nothingness that makes up the prison dimension.

Determination, resilience, a healthy dose of relief (because Leo wanted to be there, if only to trap the Krang with him, but it was still an intent to be there and that was noticed) all wrapped in a beautiful blue light that acted as a beacon.

The Prison Dimension got its tendrils in it the moment it “noticed.”

As for whether it would leave Leo, should he lose the will to continue on…no. Because the piece of that dimension left in Leo’s soul is him now. His soul is not just intertwined with it, it has completely mixed with it.

I have more to say on that particular topic, but I might wait until we tackle Path C a bit more hehe :)

(And thank you! I think that animatic would be super fun 🙌)

[ladyluscinia]

BLACKHANDS GIRLIES WE ARE REALLY IN IT NOW!!!

(aka Lady's OFMD 2x01 - 2x03 BlackHands rambling)

Link to the general non-BlackHands thoughts.

Screaming. Whooping. Cheering. *Singsong voice* My fucked up pirate husbands had mutual love confessions while the main fucked up pirate husbands are "on a break" after admitting they made each other happy! AAAAHHHHHH!!! Can't murder-suicide the other half of yourself! I am winning!!!

ADJSKLDFSKJFKDL

Ok. Deep breaths. This will be rambling but coherently (<- lying)

---

Breakup Boat - Izzy's Version

Fuck, I said in my general thoughts post that the extremities of Edward's cruelty & Edward's suicidal pursuit were working well, and nowhere is that more noticeable than in what Edward and Izzy have going on.

So in the timeskip between S1 and S2 we find out Edward has been raiding ships at a breakneck pace, uncaringly trauma bonding his crew (R.I.P. Ivan), going hard on murder & booze & drugs, and tormenting Izzy to the point my guy is literally having a breakdown in front of the crew. He lost the 1st toe for threatening to resign and accidentally setting off a Stede-hurt timebomb, and Edward goes to take a 4th because Izzy doesn't convince his whole crew to happily dump their pay in the ocean. "Threaten me again" has become "Give me any excuse" it seems, and Izzy has been complying. 😬 Edward (casually): "Take your boot off." 😬 Earlier Edward offers him rhino horn, too, and Izzy just says "No, not right now" leading Edward to call him a "lightweight", so I'm thinking Edward hasn't had exclusive rights to substance abuse as a means of coping, either. (Note: the rhino horn itself does nothing, so the substance abuse is booze and any actual drugs he's gotten his hands on.)

Oh, and they didn't include the shot where Edward throws a knife at Izzy? Did it just get cut, or are we getting flashbacks with more conversation later?

Going to rewatch the end of 1x10, Izzy's "smile" at declaring Blackbeard was back lasts a fraction of a second and looks just like his "everything is totally fine I swear" grimace-smiles from the beginning of the episode, so I think it's pretty safe to say Izzy did not ask for this and hasn't thought everything was fine for a single second since.

The Breakup Boat atmosphere is definitely fucked.

Now, personally, I'm still of the opinion we're not supposed to read this as a version of a domestic abuse arc (even with the intervention talk). (EDIT: clarifying thoughts and phrasing.) Because they still inject too much of it with humor and I can't imagine Edward comfortably coming out the other side at a happy ending if we frame it that way. Like there's black comedy and then there's "Wait, we're really just laughing this off?" I think horrific domestic abuse of your ex-situationship in a romance counts as the latter. But I do think it's revealed to be functioning as something adjacent - namely Edward's depression and suicidal tendencies have massively spiked post-Stede and he's actively seeking to a) confirm his own belief that he's unlovable, and b) get killed so everything stops hurting.

And Izzy? Izzy loves him and wants him alive. Worst thing Edward could hear right now.

Like oh my GOD IZZY LOVES HIM. As soon as Izzy hits his breaking point and realizes the crew have his back, he's emboldened to go stand up for them and himself to Edward. (He has been defending them already - the pre-intervention conversation open with him quietly alluding that they need a break - but this is more.) He ignores the boot order, ignores the threat, and finally asks the damn question:

"Who am I to you?"

This is where my linear coherency falls apart btw 🥴

---

Who KNOWS You?

"We've worked together for years. You know me better than anyone has ever known me, and I daresay the same is true for me about you. I have... love for you, Edward."

Oh fuck backstory implications oh FUCK.

Ok, I've already seen the posts doubling down on Izzy realizing he doesn't know Edward at all and I'm drawing my line in the sand. That's bullshit. That line there? That's straight truth.

To quote my own posts:

People will act like you are making bold and unsubstantiated claims if you say Izzy likes Edward as a person not just as Blackbeard, but I find the notion that “Blackbeard” as a human guy you live down the hall from is somehow substantially different / distant enough from the real Edward 24/7 that only liking Blackbeard is plausible to be a very bold claim.

(That conclusion comes from this post, but Izzy knowing Edward vs Stede knowing Edward was also a major point in my original overarching Edward Meta from Season 1.)

Of course Izzy knows Edward. He knows his talents and his weaknesses. He knows the shifts in his mood, his favorite foods to find in a hold, what tasks he used to pass off as often as possible. He talks about work with him because they live on a ship. Their state of dysfunction when we meet them doesn't negate that knowing.

Knowing each other so well actually made their dysfunction worse. Let them escalate more than two people less intimate could have managed, while also exacerbating their misjudgements into ruinous disasters. Izzy didn't know - probably in part didn't want to know - Edward was falling hard for Stede so fast. Edward didn't know or want to know that Izzy was reaching a breaking point for their relationship.

But still, crucially, Izzy did know Edward well enough to clock that something was fundamentally wrong in 1x10, and he knows what's wrong now. He knows Edward is hurting him and hurting the crew because Edward himself is hurting, and the whole point of this "I'm worried about you" talk is to try and fix it.

Unfortunately, Izzy has Stede so unspoken at the front of his mind that he accidentally quotes the man, and that sets Edward off on his interrogation / further terrorizing the crew Izzy is trying to stand up for. Which is why Izzy finally makes his choice to stop talking around the issue...

"The atmosphere on this ship is fucked. Everyone knows why." -> "Your feelings for Stede fucking Bonnet."

...and then Edward shoots his leg out. Not even looking at him.

Jump ahead. Edward says to Frenchie, "The new First Mate always kills the old First Mate. It's always been like that." - Has it though? Because that has some wild implications for Izzy murdering someone to secure his spot in Edward's circle of trust (...hot). And some interesting gaps for Edward if he was ever a first mate under Hornigold or anyone else. Or is this just him fucking with Frenchie because he knows "Trust is king. And queen. Trust is everything" is bullshit? Go, repression boy, go. Who am I talking about? Both. Both is good.

And then of course we get:

"Did you think I wouldn't know the smell of my rotting former First Mate?"

Knows him by the smell of blood and infection. By the avoidant look in his crew's eye. By the fact he doesn't know Izzy is dead. Their relationship is rot and ruin by his own hand but he would NEVER assume Izzy's dead until he knows.

"He was your friend," Jim spits in Edward's face.

Edward wakes up Izzy and even delirious, literal seconds after realizing he's down a leg, Izzy knows what Edward wants the moment he flips the gun. And he wants nothing to do with it.

He knows he can't. Won't. No matter how much Edward openly wants him to pull the trigger. (Edward knows him well enough to doubt, too. It's real convenient that his final staging has Izzy looking at the back of his head. No chance of his face giving anything away.)

Izzy's absolutely brutal in his assessment, trying to give some hurt back, but he's not wrong:

"Ohhhh. Oh, are you scared, Eddie? Too scared to do it yourself, eh? Go on, clean up your own fucking mess. I'm not doing it, I've been doing it all my fucking life. Fuck off."

All his fucking life.

I have to wonder... is this a conversation they've had before? Echoes of one? Izzy has a tactic here - dismissal. Refuse to play along with Edward's melodrama. Treat "I dreamt that you killed me" as though he's throwing a snit like a toddler. "Good for you" could have sounded like a question egging him on, but it comes out flat. A sarcastic sneer. Edward has always thought he'd go out with more of a bang. Loves a good fuckery. In his Purgatory he desperately wants Hornigold to recognize how unique and over the top his mutiny was. Not like those ordinary mutinies. Even his imagined death is being pitched over the highest bluff tied to a rock???

Izzy knows Edward is serious or he wouldn't be so fraught and sobbing as he laughs, but his words don't treat him as serious. Maybe a bit of derision has been effective at ruining the fantasy before? Suicide of a great leader is just so banal, you know? Quit daydreaming and pull off an impossible fix.

(Maybe "Fuck off" normally doesn't end the conversation, but starts the real one?)

Also "Eddie". First off of Izzy's lips at his cruelest, then Hornigold's. We heard it in S1 right before Edward committed to becoming the Kraken. At the time I thought he was bristling at the disrespect - "Eddie" is not "just Edward" - but maybe Frenchie stepped on a bigger landmine than we thought. Edward is so particular about names, and Izzy knows all the rules best, doesn't he?

Either way... This time the conversation ends with Edward leaving. "Farewell, old chum," he says without turning around. And when he hears the gunshot, he's not surprised.

Edward knows Izzy, too. Knows that the farewell may count as "closure" but Izzy is only going to take the ending one way. Izzy lifting the gun to his temple was the inevitable result of leaving that room. It takes seconds. Edward is still rising out of the stairwell when it happens.

We can't talk about knowing without touching on Purgatory, where Edward goes to know himself.

Lots of interesting stuff about Edward modeling his toxic spiral off of Hornigold as the fucked up example from his past. Probably where he picked up a lot of his piracy philosophy too. But the really juicy bit related to Izzy is the spectre of Hornigold confronting him about killing his dad and Edward's instinctive:

"I've never told anyone about that."

Hornigold calls him out for telling Stede, but it seems pretty likely that Stede is the only one he's ever had the conversation with.

However.

I still think Izzy knows. Hornigold even tells us how:

"A grown man covered in tattoos? Eh? With daddy issues?"

Edward didn't tell Izzy, and Izzy didn't ask for confirmation. But Edward will tell a whole crew of strangers about "the Kraken" killing his dad to win best ghost story. And that his dad was a dick. Izzy, who Edward loves and trusts and "outsources the big job" to, would not have much trouble connecting the dots between any version of that story / troubled childhood anecdotes / Edward's issues with killing / Edward's daddy issues.

I sincerely doubt "killed your abusive old man" is even an uncommon pirate backstory.

Izzy does know Edward - at his best and worst and everything in between. Knows him better than anyone. Suspects with certainty his darkest secret.

Izzy knows Edward, and Edward knows Izzy, and that's why everything fundamentally quakes for Edward in this self-destructive rampage when Izzy breaks their unspoken rule and tells him that he loves him.

---

Who LOVES You?

Jumping back to the (first!) literal, actual love confession we got, let's talk phrasing. Because yeah there's love there, but at the moment there's also a lot of other stuff.

"I have... love for you, Edward."

This is such a passive way of confessing, and there's the long pause as Izzy forces it out. People have attributed it to repression, or feeling ashamed of his love for Edward, or just not wanting to push it on him. I think "love" isn't a word they use out loud, so saying it is hard, but I also think Izzy's being passive because at the moment it does just feel like he "has" love. He doesn't want to actively feel it or offer it up right now, not with the complicated knot of anger and hurt and, tbh, probably some of his own depression. He "has" love because, despite everything, he still loves Edward.

And he does, is the thing! The whole goddamn reason Izzy is here, still trying to be a support for Edward is because he loves him. Literally anybody else would have left by now, or killed Edward, considering he's actively trying to push Izzy to the breaking point. And even at said point, when Izzy's finally standing up for himself, he offers Edward another chance to realize he's loved.

Edward starts dismissing him the moment he says the l-word, but Izzy continues:

"I'm worried about you - we all are. The atmosphere on this ship is completely poisoned. But if we could all just, maybe... talk it through?"

Izzy knows what's wrong and while he didn't originally think Stede was that important to Edward, he's put it together by now. And he's a huge fan of trying to talk through their problems, tries it multiple times even in the peak communication failure / stress powderkeg of S1, so of course he tries one last time to get Edward to accept he's not alone.

Instead, he accidentally invokes the ghost of Stede Bonnet and reminds Edward why he's doing all of this in the first place. Reminds him that he is unlovable while having the audacity to confess to loving him.

So Edward makes a big show of going out on deck, shoots Izzy in the leg, and tells Frenchie to get rid of him.

Frenchie doesn't, naturally.

And when Edward finds the crew saving the man who he just shot for daring to love him - because of course they are, he's their dick now - well... "He was your friend," Jim spits in his face, having just been thinking about their best friend (who they are more than a little bit in love with 👀).

How long do we think Edward stands there, looking at what he's wrought? How long does he sit at Izzy's bedside, looking at him "rather still" while he weighs if the missing leg proves his point where the toes didn't?

And you know Izzy's love is so bone deep and rooted in that it's unconditional by this point, because Edward did NOT prove his fucking point. Nothing he's done so far is enough to get the man who loves him to pull the fucking trigger. Down 3 toes and then a leg, asking first thing whether Edward was there for the other one, and STILL. STILL IZZY IS HEARTBROKEN AT THE REALIZATION THAT EDWARD IS READY TO END IT FOR REAL.

Still he won't pull the trigger himself. Not on Edward, at least.

And only after Izzy is gone can Edward return the words.

"I loved you. Best I could."

*screaming crying tearing at the walls*

He loved him.

HE LOVED HIM.

Edward's perspective of his relationships is fundamentally warped. Alongside his self-image. Probably has been for most of his life, going back to the self-hatred he ties to killing his dad. Stede leaving hurt him immensely (and predictably, Stede) in ways Stede will have to own up to, but it was Edward's own unaddressed issues - independent of Stede AND Izzy - that determined the appropriate response to that hurt was "realize that vulnerability and hope are lies and every dark voice in the back of your mind ever was telling the truth, actually."

Edward's conviction that nobody loves him and that he's not capable of successfully loving someone back is literally his depression talking. It is not rationally based in the reality of his life or relationships, Stede or otherwise. He may even have successfully beat back the sentiment for most of his life, with that getting harder and harder as time went on.

(He's expressed this kind of depressive-episode-driven warped view before, btw, and they explicitly parallel it in Purgatory just for me! The flashbacks of the bathtub scene while he attacks the spectre of Hornigold are my huge W in that episode. "It all boils down to this - you're afraid you're unlovable", said by the actual manifestation of Edward's suicidal self-hatred in Purgatory, is the new "That's why I don't have any friends." I think it's fair to question if he was a reliable narrator of his experiences back then, too. Jim and the crew certainly think he had at least one friend.)

Basically, "Best I could" now can mean a lot of things before. Young Izzy and Edward could have been much healthier than they are at present. Probably were, to be honest. It wasn't enough to save them from going sour, but it could explain why they've stuck together so long even as it has.

Izzy loves Edward. Edward loves Izzy.

LOVE LOSES. BUT LOVE WINS 😭😭😭

---

Kraken Era = Murder-Suicide, but Edward Wants to be the Murdered One

So, uh... *scrambling for notes* Where am I going with this? Fuck, I'm not even writing it linearly... OK!

Izzy KNOWS Edward - knows him going back ages, has seen his darkest and weakest moments - and even after 3 toes and a stress breakdown he still LOVES him enough to say it out loud (which I doubt these guys do, uh, ever). Which really throws a wrench in Edward's "Stede realized I'm inherently toxic and unlovable" theory, and prompts him to redouble his "prove to Izzy he doesn't love me" efforts by casually shooting him.

Afterward, he finally makes his passive suicidal intents explicit when talking (practically sobbing, in truth) to Frenchie:

"Never going back to land. We're gonna sail, rob, raise hell forever and ever, without end."

He's set on it, now. Izzy's potential last act was to finally rip down the illusion, give name to the hurt Edward had been running from since he first put on his Kraken makeup. So he pushes his little wedding toppers out the window, cleans himself up, and goes out to wave every single red flag imaginable for poor Frenchie's locked box.

Except it wasn't Izzy's last act, now was it?

But that's fine for Edward. That actually works better. He wants the hopeless situation to end, but he doesn't want to pull the trigger himself or he would have done it by now. After everything, surely Izzy should be ready to murder-suicide him??? He can't still love him, not after Edward so effectively proved he's exactly as toxic as his self-loathing depressive episodes say he is. It's poetic.

Edward underestimates Izzy. Knows him with his head, but the depression makes him underestimate his heart.

Edward doesn't get a bullet through the head, be hears the gun go off and - well - that's one way to spin "not even Izzy loves me any more" into a true statement.

Edward wants to live slightly more than he wants everything to end. It's the only reason he's alive. Before Izzy said Stede's name he was floating high on denial like that bird who never lands, keeping his depression and his destruction as a blast radius more than a dagger. He was lurching in the direction of dying by combat or by crew mutiny or by simple self-destructive behaviors, but he avoided thinking about anything long enough to have intent.

After Izzy's desperate attempt to intervene, Edward can't hide from his own reasoning anymore. Or his hurt. Or his self-enforced hopelessness. And with that comes aims. He has his rough night and then starts the massive red flag upswing. Cleans up. Gets ready for the big finale. He pushes Izzy with the "closure" conversation, trying to find a pressure point that will get him killed to close off the narrative with a artful bow.

Murder-suicide sounds like a fix to his problems, but he still wants to live slightly more. He still can't turn the gun on himself. He aims to be the murdered one.

After Izzy is gone, though, by Edward's own actions? That's the last straw he needs to commit in full. Thanking Frenchie? Just another final goodbye to get his affairs in order. "Take the day off, brother. Go live." The moment Izzy dies they all become dead men walking.

Thank FUCK that Edward a) still would prefer it if they snapped and murdered him / something out of his control killed him (he still wants to live), and b) still wants to die dramatically. A different man would have walked right back to his cabin and not missed.

Sidebar to appreciate the breakup boat crew some more because I love them:

Fang: "So... do we think he's better?" Jim: "Fuck no!"

Edward is ready to be the murderer with his cannon pointed at the mast, but he stalls on damning the whole crew to a watery grave (r.i.p. half of them), gives Izzy time to wake up and drag himself out to protect said crew, and then finally gets what he's been after.

Edward's motivations are already perfectly clear, but just to really hammer it in - he thinks he just drove a man he loved to suicide, and then he demands the couple he found kissing fight to the death with the reasoning:

"All love dies, I'm just hastening the process."

Jim literally just learned last season that was bullshit, my guy. It makes sense they are the one who finally puts a stop to him.

(Except the cannonball doesn't hit. There's no head wound. And Edward is alive when they take him back to the secret room, laying him out respectfully instead of letting the waves take him too. They don't even know if they'll survive. They certainly don't have anywhere to take the body, or a working ship to get there. Maybe they didn't notice because they didn't want to notice.)

(AND EDWARD STILL WANTS TO LIVE)

Both Izzy and Edward try to die. Both of them do - maybe, in the bottom of their hearts - want to live just a tiny bit more. They shoot each other. They say OUT LOUD they love each other (though Edward I swear to fuck you better say that to Izzy's face ohmygod). They are on this journey together.

BOTH OF THEM LIVE. AND NOW THEY HAVE TO DEAL WITH THAT.

(I feel like I wanted to add stuff about Stede & Izzy meeting again but like. I don't even know. Izzy doesn't even know. Is he protecting the crew? Deflecting? Edward's dignity (-ish)? Stede's good opinion of Edward? Dealing with his own massively fucked headspace? Ask me again on Friday. Fuck.)

My fucked up guys are in toxic fucked up LOVE!!!

[j0elmill3r]

Wish You Were Here (II): Welcome To the Machine

"Where have you been? It's alright. We know where you've been."

Pairing - Joel Miller x Daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x Niece!Reader

Summary - Witnessing your fathers' demise at the hands of the daughter of a man he killed saving your best friend, you realize your crusade for revenge for your father’s brutal death is bound to be a bloody one.

Warnings - Diverges from canon and I mean it in no way at all follows canon, spoilers for the last of us part 2, canon violence, death, mentions and implications of suicide, baby girl struggles mentally, implications of self-harm (Please let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count - 2.5k

A/N - And here is the second chapter, almost halfway already? damn. Anyway, I just wanted to say that this series? Does not follow anything of the second game at all, only in that Joel dies and someone hunts down Abby. I hope everyone is enjoying it, and as always, feedback, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Joel Miller Masterlist

-

Joel had thought settling down in Jackson would have helped you and your often fragile mental state. Your dad knew that you struggled with your mental health, and he wished that you had better access to at least some help in managing whatever was going on with you mentally. He hoped that settling down somewhere would help stabilize your mood with some kind of routine, that maybe now you'd be able to relax after being so tense and on edge for the past year.

But it appeared to have done the opposite to you.

With nothing to think about, you didn't have anything to distract yourself with, which left you alone with your often loud, deafening thoughts - deafening thoughts which told you to hurt yourself. Joel knew about your tendencies of self-harm, at 16, he had found you in a bathroom in the QZ, holding the deep gash on your wrist. But he thought by now that you were past that, that you had gotten better. Maybe not.

Joel climbed up the stairs, having heard a smash and then your panicked gasping and crying, he had to check on you, knowing your slightly shady history with things smashing near you and holding the shrapnel to your wrists.

"Y/N?" He called out for you, reaching the bathroom door to where he had located you. He rattled the door, only to find it locked. "Y/N. Open the door," Your dad demanded. Joel continued to rattle the door. "Y/N!" He was panicking now, what if you had gone too deep again? You hadn't locked the door the last time, making it easier for Joel to get to you in time - But if you had gone too deep in this instance, you could have already bled out by now, laying dead on the floor in a pool of your own blood. "Y/N stand back. I'm kicking this door open." You barely had any time to react before the door was kicked down, and you looked at your dad, your face the double of a deer that had been caught in headlights, looking its killer dead in the eyes.

"D-dad!" You cried, clutching your wrist as you looked at your dad. Joel took the sight of you in, your hands and clothes stained with blood, pieces of the smashed mirror scattered around you - A large piece sitting on the sink beside you, your blood smeared across it. "This isn't what it looks like!" You tried to defend your self-destructive actions to your dad, who knew that this was exactly what it looked like.

"Y/N, put that down please," Joel said, referring to the sharp piece of glass you held in your hand tightly, the sharp object cutting deep into your hand as you gripped it. You sobbed as you held it tighter, your breathing increasing as you noticed the concern on your father’s face. "Come on, baby girl, it's okay," He assured you, holding his hand out to you in a reassuring gesture. Your panicked and bewildered eyes met your dad’s concerned ones, and you dropped the piece of glass which you held in your hand, it falling to the floor and shattering into smaller pieces. You didn't react as Joel took your hand that wasn't cut up from the glass, and led you out of the bathroom and to your bedroom, sitting you down on your bed.

He sighed to himself sadly as he picked up the first aid kit from the kitchen, Joel really thought that settling down would have helped you with your issues, but it appeared to be the opposite - You had seemingly gotten worse. You sat in silence as your dad stitched you up, he was a pro at this, having done it so many times before. It never mattered how many times he stitched up your cuts, Joel could never stop the helpless feeling that nestled deep in his stomach - He wanted so badly to help you, but he knew that what you were going through was far from his level of expertise; All he could do was assure you that everything was going to be okay, even if neither you nor he believed that it was true.

You awoke with a startled gasp, Tommy looking over at you with concern on his face. In your tired gaze, his figure was a blur, which you almost mistook for your dad - And then you remembered. It was a funny thing, grief. Sometimes you were blinded by it, it weighed you down and made you feel like you were drowning with no surface in sight, the cracking of your dad's skull would deafen you as you were forced to relive the day of his death over, and over. Then there were the days when you could seemingly escape your grief. There were days when you could wake up and forget all about your dad's demise, you'd be able to go about what needed to be done, and then at a point in the day, it would catch up with you. It would hit you like a train, dragging you with it for miles and miles before coming to a screeching halt.

"You alright?" Tommy asked you, watching as you ran your fingers over the scar on your hand, a nervous tic you had picked up. You nodded and looked away from your uncle, unable to meet his eyes - A telltale sign that you were lying to him. Tommy knew you were going through so many emotions, especially towards your former best friend, Ellie - Who had packed up and moved to a farm with her girlfriend, Dina. You couldn't understand how she dared to have acted so attached to your father - and often act as though he was hers - and then pack up and leave straight after his death. "You can talk to me, you know." It broke Tommy's heart when he thought of you and everything life had put you through at such a young age - Losing your childhood, your older sister dying, your mental health issues, and now losing your dad.

"Yeah, I know, Tommy," You told him. The car battery had died just outside of the Indiana state line, so you and Tommy had been walking since then. You were reminded of the hike trails that Joel had shown you and Ellie while you were on the way taking Ellie to the fireflies, he told you that he used to bring you and Sarah on these walks, even though you were too young to remember them.  "Are there any firefly-occupied QZs out here?" You asked your uncle, turning back to look at him as he walked behind you.

"One just outside of this forest," He told you, watching as you huffed and rolled your eyes, powering on through the dimly lit forest, despite it being broad daylight, there was minimal light in the forest.

This was shown when you stepped right into a bear trap, the contraption clamping tight on your ankle. Tommy, noticing the look on your face, then looking down, ran towards you, clamping his hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as the shock dissipated and became pure, unfiltered pain.

"Hey. I know it hurts but we have to be quiet," You continued to scream into your uncle’s palm, even as he tried to shush you. "I have to try and unclamp this so we can keep moving." Tommy knew he could be straight with you, he knew Joel had raised you to accept that that was how people had to talk to you to keep you alive sometimes. You chewed on the insides of your cheeks, accepting the roll of gauze that your uncle handed you from his backpack and clamping down on it. Tommy knelt down by your legs and pried the bear trap open with some struggle, swiftly catching you as you fell to the ground with a muffled cry of pain. Acting fast, Tommy quickly gauzed up your ankle to attempt to staunch the bleeding, but judging by the paleness of your face, Tommy knew this was getting bad.

"Tommy," You pointed to behind him, noticing a hoard of infected coming on the horizon. He looked to where you pointed, and he didn't, not even for a second, consider leaving you. "No, Tommy you have to go." You pushed him. He shook his head as he put his arms under you, lifting you up with a groan.

"Not without you. Not a chance in hell," Tommy threw you over his shoulder, leaving you room to grab your gun should any infected get the chance to get close to you. You shot at a couple of them before your vision started to blur, the world around you gradually dimming as you continued to profusely bleed. "Y/N? Hey, Y/N, stay with me, don't close your fuckin' eyes." He demanded, noticing that you had stopped shooting as he continued to run out of the forest with you.

"Tryin'," You were tired, and it wasn't long before you went limp over Tommy's shoulder. Luckily, he was out of the forest, immediately making a beeline for the small shack which sat outside of the QZ. Tommy knew this QZ, having worked with the fireflies to take it over. He barricaded the door shut after laying you on the floor, seeing that your blood had soaked through the gauze he had wrapped around your ankle.

You groaned as you woke up, the sun streaming in through the blinds causing you to squint your eyes at its harshness. Wait, this...this isn't the forest, why were you in bed? You looked around as you sat up, recognizing your surroundings as your bedroom in your house in Jackson. Your ears perked up at the sound of guitar playing from downstairs, if you recognized correctly, it was Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd - And there was only one man you knew that could play the guitar like that.

Throwing the duvet off of you, you sprung to your feet, looking down to notice there was no evidence of your leg ever being caught in a bear trap. You let out a sigh of relief and made your way down the stairs, freezing as you got halfway down them - Joel and Sarah sitting laughing on the couch. Your dad spotted you first, concern on his face at your presence.

"Y/N?" He got up from his spot on the couch, Sarah having to do a double take at you - You were no longer her tiny baby sister, but instead a fully grown woman. You accepted your dad’s embrace as he waited for you at the bottom of the stairs for you. "No...No, baby girl, why are you here?" Joel asked you.

"I-I was in the forest with Tommy and my leg got caught in a bear trap, there was a lot of blood," You explained to your dad. Joel shook his head sadly as he sighed, Sarah still looking at you in shock. "Hi." You said shyly, giving her a small smile. You hated that you knew so little about your own older sister, you wished that you had gotten to spend more time with her.

"You...You," Sarah couldn't find the words to express how she felt, so just hugged you, even though you were now taller than her. "You're not little anymore." Sarah knew it was childish to say, just because her life had ended,  it didn't mean yours did.

"You got little," You joked back to her with a teary laugh, looking back to your dad. "I miss you." You choked on a sob as you looked at your dad. Joel smiled sadly as he hugged you once more, savoring the moment for as long as he could before letting you go.

"I miss you too, baby girl," He assured you, kissing the top of your head. "But you can't stay here," Joel told you adamantly. You looked up at him, shaking your head.

"What? No, I wanna stay here," You pleaded with him, not knowing if either of them had any control over who could stay. Joel shook his head and put both hands on your shoulders.

"I know baby, but it's not your time," He was tearing up, he felt selfish for wanting you to stay. He hated that he could only have one of his girls at any one time, he just wanted the 3 of you to be back together as a family again. "You have to go back, for Tommy."

"But, dad-"

"Y/N."

"Y/N"

"Y/N?"

You let out a quiet gasp as you woke up, seeing your uncle hovering over you. Tommy was taken aback by your sudden hug, but accepted the gesture, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

"Sorry," You apologized, avoiding eye contact with your uncle, who smiled at you comfortingly - If he was being honest, Tommy actually appreciated the gesture. "How long was I out for?" You asked him, rubbing your eyes.

"Couple of hours, I didn't realize how deep that went. I'd say you're lucky to be alive," He told you, before helping you up onto your feet, wobbling on your injured foot before standing steadily. You took your backpack as he handed it to you, slinging it over your shoulder and limping out of the shack. The more you thought of what Tommy had told you - Lucky to be alive - That was too real to be a dream. Had you died for a couple minutes? You hoped not, you would have felt terrible, the thought of your poor uncle Tommy being forced to resuscitate you days after losing Joel broke your heart. He broke you out of your trance by putting a hand on your shoulder.

"So, what's our plan?" You asked him, looking up at him as he stood beside you. He let out a sigh as he studied the gates, barbed wire tangled around them to deter people from both entering and escaping.

"We go through."

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[thenixkat]

I mean of the darker people in the series we have:

Kabru- initially portrayed in an antagonistic light what with being a murderer with stalker tendencies who belives that team Touden wronged his party/has considered murdering the protag for reasons tied to his morality that's got a Knight Templar-type beat regardless of his reasons, also a fantasy racist

Kiki & Kaka- satellite characters of a group of minor characters. Who are a set b/c that's how folks write twins. Very little dialogue and presence

Thistle/Sissel- an antagonist who tries to murder our protags

Cithis- a convicted criminal, has murder in her list of crimes, a cop, a fantasy racist, enslaved in the same way that DC's Suicide Squad is, and the Canaries are also portrayed initially in an antagonistic light

Its uh, actually, a bit of a pattern with some unfortunate implications. Like, I'm well used to the paper-skin brigade parts of fandom tending to miss shit like that and try to gaslight the shit out of (brown and Black) fans of color that do notice shit and say anything about it.

[ruan566]

Anyone ever think that Dazai's wish to die probably stems from his desire to feel humane?

Ok first off the book from which Dazai's ability gets its name is in Japanese and the more literal translation of the book's name would be "Disqualified from being human"

Disqualified from being human carries a lot of implications that the actual name doesn't carry

Disqualification implies that it's Dazai himself who feels that he can't call himself humane

And Dazai states that death isn't the opposite of life, rather death is what completes the experience of life

And what is more humane than dying and living?

It's pure delusion but I like to believe that Dazai's suicidal tendencies stem from him craving to feel humane or at the very least feel something.

It also explains his obsession with Chuuya during his younger years and the attachment that still persists now

Chuuya despite perhaps being codes or a clone is still so much more "humane" than Dazai or so we believe from Dazai's perspective

Hence Dazai's wish to actively understand everything about Chuuya so to use Chuuya's perspective as a guide on how he himself can become human

The main difference between Dazai and Chuuya is that while Dazai needs a purpose in life he doesn't understand the basic concept that life doesn't have to have a purpose

Chuuya on the other hand suffers, aimless pointless suffering without any purpose in life because Chuuya's objective is to prove himself humane

And what is life if not another name for suffering

Chuuya wants to be humane for an inner sense of satisfaction, Dazai wants to be humane so he doesn't feel "empty"

Chuuya's desire to feel humane may perhaps also come from the fact that in the lab he was treated as a lab rat so to him if he's not humane then isn't that validating all the experiments done on him?

The concept of basic rights is for humans

If Chuuya finds out that he isn't human then to him it's almost as if all that lab did to him was correct

Chuuya wants to feel humane because he doesn't want to feel as if he deserved all that he was put through

Dazai on the other hand wants a purpose in life wants a meaning in life he holds on to things on an obsessive degree so that his genius mind remains occupied

He wants to be humane to find an answer to his "emptiness"