#when a child leaves it should be afraid for themselves if they're going to make it. not if their parent can handle themselves!

[theinheriteddutchess]

Bella is panicked to leave her mother, because her mother is normally helpless without her. She forgets to pay bills, get gas or food and gets lost. This woman is a mother and has her child monitor her.

Pfew luckily she got married so her new husband can be her caretaker.

This is literally the thing I can feel sad for bella for. The child caring for the parent and having anxiety because "how is my parent going to survive without me being there holding the fort?!" is too real.

Then you also realize, it is a good thing bella left, because with renee, she would've always been the parent, the responsible, the suppressed. With bella around Renee doesn't have to grow up or take responsibly, because she relies on her daughter so much she probably isn't even aware. It is a dynamic she made since bella's childhood, and she benefits from it.

How does bella claim this woman is her best friend? She's a leech!

I can't stand Renee. She is awful in every way. I can't find a good thing about her.

[lostloveletters]

Leave a Tender Moment Alone (John Brady x OFC)

Summary: Private Kate Woodward and Lieutenant John Brady are reluctant to wear their hearts on their sleeves, but they're each starting to wonder if maybe they should.

Word count: 1k

Note: Meet Woody! Title comes from the Billy Joel song. For a little bit of context, this takes place before Damn Yankees, but you don't need to read that to understand what's going on in this fic. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Warnings: Light period-typical misogyny. Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies.

Private Kate Woodward had a child clinging to her leg, another hanging onto her back, both attached to her like little monkeys. 

The village kids were always in the mechanics’ orbit. Woody wanted to be a good role model for them, even if she didn’t quite know what that looked like. She wasn’t exactly keen to admit it to anyone except Holly, but offering her expertise as a mechanic to the WAC wasn’t entirely out of love for country.

After years of wandering aimlessly up and down the West Coast, she woke up one morning and realized she didn’t like her friends (if she could even call them that), working almost exclusively on stolen cars because she couldn’t hold down a legitimate mechanic job, and especially not the type of person she’d become. So she signed up, expecting to be working on jeeps or trucks, but instead found herself applying her knowledge to planes. 

Her first commanding officer, Lieutenant Deanna Seberg from Glendale, designated her Woody to differentiate her from the dozen or so Catherines and Kathleens who used Kate as a nickname.

She liked being Woody. Woody was tough and competent yet approachable, likable, even. She tried to be good. Helpful but not too imposing. Kept her cursing to a minimum. Checked her temper. Had to. She was part of something bigger than herself, bigger than any of them could have ever conceived of. Finally found a way out through it. She couldn’t afford to fuck it up.

While the handful of other mechanic girls had gotten their experience through family garages or the odd trade school, they accepted her claim that hers came from messing around with friends’ cars. She was good at what she did. No need to push it. 

Thankfully, Kenny had their backs, the young Arkansan drawling that where he came from, women weren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty to get the job done by the end of the day, whatever it may be. If that also involved entertaining English laborers’ kids, fascinated by Americans and their planes, she’d try her damnedest.

“Miss Woody!” Billy shouted, making a running start toward her. 

“Wait!” she yelled. “I can’t—“

Just before impact, which would have surely sent her directly to the ground with three children in tow, Billy was scooped up in Lieutenant John Brady’s arms. 

“You could take off with that speed, buddy,” he said, flying the boy around for a moment before setting him on his feet and ruffling his hair.

Woody smiled as the other two children climbed off of her. “You saved the day, Lieutenant.”

“Miss Woody, now you’ve got to give the hero a kiss!” Sarah, the young girl who’d been hanging off her back exclaimed with a flourish of her hands. “That’s what happens in the stories.”

Brady shook his head. “Miss Woody doesn’t have to—“

Woody gave him a quick peck on the cheek, their small audience of Billy, Sammy, and Sarah giggling and cheering in delight. “Why don’t you kids go make some trouble for Mr. Kenny?”

The children ran off, arms spread out wide as they imitated planes themselves. God, had she ever been that carefree as a kid?

Brady cleared his throat. “I came by to see how the fort’s doing.”

“And just in time. That would’ve been a hell of a tumble if it weren’t for you,” she said.

“You’re great with those kids.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I try to be the kind of adult I wish I had around when I was their age, you know?”

“That’s good of you.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you what we’ve done so far.”

He stuck close to her as they made their way around the damaged plane, Woody taking care to let him know exactly what had been fixed so far and where they were having a bit of trouble. Shuffled a little closer to her when she pointed at one of the engines.

He smelled nice, a reprieve from the mix of fuel, motor oil, and sweat. Not to mention the occasional whiff of cow manure drifting through the air on a strong breeze. For a moment, she envisioned her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck while something soft and slow filled the room. Wondered how he’d hold her.

Shit. Stop daydreaming.

She glanced at him every so often. His expression didn’t change much. Brows furrowed, handsome face etched with concern as he scrutinized the state of his plane.

“Really, I’ve seen worse,” she said.

He scoffed. “That’s reassuring.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

Certainly wasn’t the first plane he crash-landed, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he could practically hear his mother’s voice, ‘John Brady, I did not raise you to speak to young ladies that way.’ Except he’d hardly consider Woody a young lady. She was a mechanic with a mouth when she got a few beers in her. More rough-and-tumble than any of the girls he grew up with.

Everyone seemed to like her, though. Hell, he sure did. Hambone already made a stupid comment about how he should ‘ask Woody to kiss it better’ when his fort, so comically named Brady’s Crash Wagon, went up in smoke. Probably why it smarted to feel like she pitied him or something.

Smarted worse to see the way her lips pressed in a thin line. Kept her gaze anywhere but him.

“Kenny told me you stay out here late working on it. Thank you,” he said, a stubborn substitution for an apology. “I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence. 

Wasn’t sure what else he could say, and she was doing everything but telling him to buzz off. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Woody.”

She nodded. “See you around, sir.”

He tried not to kick himself too much as he walked off, not entirely sure where he was going.  

“Hey Lieutenant!” Woody shouted when there was a few yards of distance between them.

He stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at her. “What is it?”

“You got something—“ She gestured to her own cheek.

He wiped the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him and fought back a smile at the grease smudged on his fingertips.

[coulsonlives]

It makes me itch when people say BPD means someone is a narcissist. Because it's the literal opposite of that. The person is awfully afraid people hate em, so much that they'll act out if they feel like someone is going to leave em or not spend as much time with em (a common example is when a parent with BPD has a child and the child is starting to gain independence and challenge their opinions, and they feel like the ground has gone out from underneath em and they're unsure what's gonna happen). Or a second example is when someone objects to a thing they do, and they interpret it much more strongly than someone should, and they think it's a massive event and nobody cares about em and is out to get em. Cancelling whole family dinners because one person doesn't want to go, that kinda thing.

People with BPD generally have attachment issues, feelings of worthlessness, and fear that people will leave em. They catastrophize a ton, they can have bad episodes of suicide ideation because of how bad things become. Actionable suicide threats because of the severity of their hopelessness are a thing. Does that sound like narcissism? Nope.

Many people who grew up w a BPD parent, unlike a parent with NPD, will have a decent amount of good memories mixed in w the bad ones. NPD is usually always 'on', but BPD can wax and wane depending on the situation. I know multiple people who had perfectly fine childhoods, but then as soon as they became adolescents and teens and started expressing themselves more independently, their parent with BPD couldn't cope.

As for the whole abuse thing: all I'm gonna say is people with cluster B disorders can definitely be abusive in certain ways, just like anyone who doesn't have a disorder, but is the abuse in BPD of the narcissistic type? Nah. It might look like it from time to time, but the reasons are so dang removed from narcissism, and the reasons why someone with NPD would abuse others, there's really no point in saying people with BPD are narcissistic. Maybe if someone has comorbid disorders, but BPD alone isn't characterized by narcissism.

Tldr stop interchanging the cluster B disorders my peeps, they're not the same.

[veresiine]

Swsh headcanon post: Leon and kids

Leon likes working with children, because so many of them are so earnestly enthusiastic about pokemon, just like him!

Not only does he like encouraging future and beginner trainers, he just genuinely enjoys the company of anyone he can talk with pokemon about, especially if they're as happy to talk as he is. And the kids like being heard and listened to and bask in the positive attention.

Between helping raise his brother, at least for Hop's early life, and all the fan meet-and-greets he's done, often including small children, Leon is very good at working with young children. It helps that some of the skills for handling and raising pokemon carry over.

He's less good at working with teens, but that also has to do with that age group (along with young adults) being the most likely to find his antics cringy or off-putting. Younger kids usually see him as a friendly, helpful, strong person to look up to, and adults generally either fondly remember him from when he was a beloved child star or genuinely respect the man he's grown into now, while the 14-22ish cohort is more likely to be annoyed by his bombastic showmanship, childlike enthusiasm, eccentric behavior, or questionable fashion sense.

(Topics: "Life at work" and "Kids of his own" under the cut due to length)

Life at Work

Leon babysits for his coworkers from time to time if they can't find another sitter and he doesn't happen to have much going on that day. He's usually pretty busy, so it's rare that things line up, but he enjoys the opportunity when it comes up.

But he does want to look out for the kids and parents working for the League and Battle Tower! As the child of a single mother, he doesn't want to see other families struggle like his did (yes his grandparents should have helped more. No that doesn't change the need for more institutional support).

So he helps push for more paid family/maternity/paternity leave. The League had already been pretty good in that regard for office workers, but less so for Gym leaders and trainers, and for League staff working at stadiums.

And once other people in Wyndon point out to him the need for it, he gets on board with the idea of adding a nursery to Battle Tower and to League HQ, making things easier on office workers with young children. With less things to worry about, they can focus more on bringing exciting battles to the people of Galar and supporting the region's trainers, right?

Kids of his own

Some of Leon's pokemon already do see him as a dad. Dragapult does it a lot less now, but years ago, even after he had fully evolved, he'd still climb up and rest his chin on Leon's head as if he were still a Dreepy and Leon were a Drakloak. These days, he only does that on the very rare occasions he and/or Leon are afraid. The Dreepy themselves, of course, flock to Leon only slightly less often than they flock to Dragapult.

Leon would be super excited to be a dad to actual human beings, too, whether biologically or through adoption.

That said, with how busy he is battling and also managing the League, I don't think he'll plan to have children until sometime in his mid-30s, when his career is stable and his influences on League policy entrenched, and some of his pokemon are older and a little less energetic and battle-happy, and he can take more time away to focus on raising children. I imagine either Hop will have kids before him, or their mother might remarry and give them another little sibling, before Leon ends up having children.

Of course, that's planned. If it happens sooner, he certainly wouldn't object or complain.

His mum would be very happy, too; not only would she be happy about having grandkids, but also, it would mean hearing from Leon more - since he's not been great at keeping in contact beyond birthdays and major holidays and mostly only keeps up with Hop - since there would be a fair share of "MUM how do I -?" calls. Leon is good at basic childcare. He's done this before. He knows what he's doing. On the other hand, small children are GREAT at coming up with new and exciting problems that frighten or baffle first-time parents.

I can see him overindulging in giving treats; he knows how to balance discipline and reward in pokemon training, but how can he say no to his own kids? At the same time, he'd struggle with time management at first, balancing work and childcare, and would often end up late to one obligation or another.

But he'd get a handle on that eventually (and sooner, the older he is when he ends up having kids), and would definitely be a warm, supportive parent, doing his share of the work and also being emotionally available.

Even for Leon and his near-boundless enthusiasm, more than 3 children would be too much to handle, especially since he is so occupied with the League - with events, battling, and office work - and then any lingering effects from his injuries or poisoning from Eternatus making his life more difficult. Having 1-2 children is reasonable. 3 is pushing it. 4 or more is out of the question.

Thank you for reading! Other swsh (and mainly Leon-centric) headcanon posts and fics can be found in my pinned post.

[ziorre]

Ial Embrit is a maju* of Haltir race*, who was born in Emmise city (Emmise country, Derga continent) and lived there all his childhood with his parents. The family come from the upper classes (aristocrats), as they had a large inheritance. Ial's mother and father devoted themselves to noble professions: mom is a professor of magic and spells at a local university, dad is a military man wearing the uniform of the highest ranks. With such roots, the boy had every chance of a secure and carefree life in the city, which was what everything was going to be up to a certain point.

Ial grew up as a young man who loved and respected his parents, always listened to them, helped them and understood how important is the work they were doing for local people. That is why (already being of age) he showed a desire to join the Royal Troops, dreaming of following in his father's footsteps and protecting the inhabitants of his native country. He always looked at his father as a hero, as an example to follow; his image of a stern and tactically competent leader on the battlefield and a strict, but accepting gentleness from his family was for the boy the thing he looked up to. Now Embrit Jr. is already on the battlefield. He is a good warrior (uses both magic and weapons), observes discipline and follows the instructions of his elders. All natives of Emmise know that Anri* from Vaterevul islands has been terrorizing the local Haltirs for ten hundred years and that they are the main target of those who protect the country. They are written about in newspapers, in children's books, spoken about in schools and universities, at rallies and meetings, and the message is always the same – they are villains, they are those who aimlessly prevent us from living peacefully. Such propaganda worked on Ial also, and that is why (when he went to the front) he believed that he was doing the right thing, he wanted to be the one who protects his homeland from scoundrels and sadists. He fought, he pierced people of the hated race with his sword, turned their bodies into ashes. However, over the course of these two years, he was increasingly visited by the feeling that they were doing something wrong, that almost all those Anri, about whose ferocity and ruthlessness he had read in books as a child, about whose bloodthirstiness every newspaper headline screamed, were not really such. They are also people, they are also afraid, but they need to protect their country from… Haltirs. More and more often they were instructed to attack ordinary people, more and more often they were ordered not to take prisoners, more and more often the focus of their attacks shifted to those who simply could not defend themselves. Perhaps Ial would have continued to suppress this voice of conscience if it hadn't been for the case when they were ordered to burn down the entire village. It wasn't even on the map, and the residents were just fishermen with their families. Many managed to escape as soon as they saw the soldiers from afar, but there were also those who did not have time or did not intend to leave their land at all. Such people were burned on the spot in their own homes. He stands in the doorway, a woman huddles in the corner and begs him to spare her, four children look at the man in fear. He couldn't do that. They're civilians. They are simple people who shouldn't have to go through this. They are the same as the ordinary residents of Emmise who need protection. They weren't the ones he was going to fight. The war should not affect those who did not start it. Embrit looked back, making sure they weren't being followed, and ordered them to leave through the back door. When he saw that they had gone out unnoticed, Ial went out and set fire to the house. Before he had taken a couple of steps he heard a shrill female scream behind him. Hurrying towards the sound, he sees another soldier directing streams of fire at the one whom Embrit thought he had managed to save. A charred corpse falls to the ground, children scream in shock and fear, a soldier points his hands at them… After that day, Ial was considered a fugitive traitor to his homeland, who was now being hunted by all the soldiers of Emmise. For what he did that day to his colleagues, the death penalty was not enough...

*Maju - creatures who possess magic *Haltir - maju, whose magic is based on the element of fire. *Anri - maju, whose magic is based on the element of water.

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

I think the IWTV showrunner/writers are afraid of allowing Claudia and Louis to look even remotely bad, so they have to turn Lestat into a caricaturish villain to justify their murdering him.

Idk if it's because they're afraid that the audience won't sympathize with her character when she's killed if she's presented as ever doing anything wrong, or if there's some other reason behind it, but that's what it seems like to me.

I don't honestly see how they get past season two at this rate, but I guess we'll see what happens. But it is funny watching book fans twist themselves into pretzels to try to justify why these changes are good and make sense.

If so, then I'm calling bullshit. Louis and Claudia aren't the "good ones" and things don't need to be black and white. Like...half the point is that...Louis and Claudia were partially in the wrong for killing Lestat, and making Lestat into a over-the-top-abusive asscheek, Louis into a victimized catamite, and Claudia into a tortured teen runaway detracts some nuance from the equation. Yes, Lestat is violent and Not Morally Good person, but the way he behaved is OOC. In his worst moments he never did anything even approaching what he did to Louis in the show, and never once did he raise his hand to Claudia. This narrative of domestic abuse is baffling to me. The fucked up aspects of Lestat, Louis and Claudia’s family unit always came more from the mental mindfucks (Claudia) and the emotional unsuitability they all experienced, rather than some good old wife-beating.  Literally, when Louis was thinking about leaving Lestat in the book, what does Lestat do? He goes and makes them a daughter to keep Louis with him. Not tear his throat open and drag him for filth before going Magneto-on-the-satellite on him.   I have no idea what in the hell is supposed to happen with Claudia, because in the show is obvious she's going to kill Lestat in revenge for Louis beat down/Lestat's atrocious actions, but in the books/movie, she kills purely for selfish reasons. I feel they took a lot away from the story by aging her up physically, because that's literally the crux of her resentment and hate, a woman who is approaching three-quarters of a century old trapped in a child's body. (not a teenager’s) That alone should be enough to inspire deep pity and sympathy.  Claudia kills Lestat despite Louis also having a hand in her making, because she now wants Louis alone, and loves Louis alone. Going for the “sister” role for her substantially weakens what she is, which is woman forcefully taking what she wants. I don't want to say that I hope they don't get greenlit for a season two, but at this point I'm starting to not like the show more than I like it, and I had absolutely started to love it at the beginning. 

[star--nymph]

*plagues your inbox* 20, 29, 30, 31, 39 for Blaine (:<

YOU SAY THIS AS IF I DID NOT ASK FOR IT

BLAINE MY BABY BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!

(numbers added from the other ask)

3. What is something they really like about themselves and what is something you really like about them?

Blaine's going to sit there and think really hard about it. It's not an easy answer: Blaine fucking can't stand himself. After a long moment, he'll probably sigh and whispers that he likes that he's nice to people. He likes being nice. It makes him happy. It's the least he could do.

When it comes down to it, I love that Blaine is nice too. I love that he's this really sweet, kind dude that's doing his best when the world tells him he's weak for being kind. When I was younger I was told a lot that Blaine is actually kind of boring for a main character because he's so nice, especially when Artemis is standing right there being...ya know, the world's biggest, loud asshole, but I don't believe that. I think it takes a really interesting person to be actually compassionate in the face of overwhelming anxiety and self hatred. It's super hard to be kind, gentle dude in the world. I don't want to harden Blaine because people don't understand that. He's my genuinely good guy. I think there need to be more dudes out there who want and strive to be kind.

Also I love that he's basically the human form of Kermit the Frog please help him.

6. What is their favourite music genre? If they don’t have one, what’s their favourite song?

Citypop/Electropop or Indie Rock! His favorite song would be Gold and Bones by Friday Pilots Club.

12. What is their safe place? And what does “safe place” mean to them?

The rooftop of Godkiller's headquarters or of his Dads' house. Neither are places where he needs to perform or hide what he is. Both his Dads know of his childhood and experimentation, so they're one of the few people where he doesn't have to hide what's actually bothering him in front of him. He can say that his weird powers are acting up/hurting him or that Artemis is getting to him; he's afraid that people know exactly what their relationship is. His fathers protect him and keep him safe--if that's not the definition of a safe space, then what is.

The rooftop is like that on a smaller level. There's a bit of a barrier there where he can be alone but he can hear his friends below him. He's alone but he's not actually alone. Besides, it has a great view of the cityscape, especially at night, and it's a good place to just breathe out and let the anxiety leave him. Blaine has spent many hours up there alone, just watching the city while listening to music.

20. What is their hidden talent? Is that a skill they’ve been practicing since childhood or just something they happen to know and never had the chance to show? Besides, was it something forced upon them, taught by someone close, or they picked it up themselves?

Blaine's draws and uses watercolors to paint. I don't know when exactly he started--probably in his midteens where he would doodle during class. Art is a pretty good way to deal with anxiety after all. It's more or less a thing for him. He has dozens of sketch books he keeps around, but he doesn't show anyone just because, well, why should he?

Mainly he draws landscapes and objects. He could sketch people but he feels uncomfortable by the idea of doing that with out permission. Or maybe he just doesn't like the human form that much. He doesn't really want to read into that, though.

29. They have a chance to get a tattoo: what would it be?

Blaine does have a tattoo! He has an anatomically correct heart and veins on his chest, over where his heart is. The veins grow out towards his shoulders and down to his stomach. He got after he left the military and needed something to cover up the military tattoo. He got the heart I think to remind himself that he is a human being, regardless of what he was done to him as a child.

30. What is their love language?

Oh, probably words of affirmation and quality time. What better way to convey love than to say it and mean it?

31. What would make them blush?

hfjkfhfdjs better question is what doesn't make Blaine blush? You could give the man a slight compliment on his hair and he's turn red and start giggling and fidgeting with it. Affection makes him so embarrassed.

39. If they could go back in time, how would they reassure their child-self about the future?

I don't know if there's much he could say or do besides hold him and tell him that someday, someone's going to save him and that he'll have lots of friends.

Maybe, though, he would just whisper, "It wasn't your fault", repeatedly. Perhaps if he says it enough times, he'll believe it someday.

[plusanimablog]

Chapter 53: My Anima

So...Blanca.

Husky and Nana see her, Nana thinking that she's a real angel. Then she wakes up and GASP, she's the White Shadow!

Husky and Nana escape the room, recognizing her from last night. They find themselves in a strange room full of plants. Then Nana sees this:

She screams and runs off. Then the White Shadow flies around her. She freaks out, thinking it's trying to get inside her. Then Cooro and Senri burst in...then Fly bursts in after them, shoving them out of the way. He cries out "Blanca!" and the White Shadow returns to Blanca's body. Nana asks if Blanca is the girl's name and Fly responds in the affirmative. He says she's an angel Anima. Husky demands to know what the hell is going on and Fly offers to explain in a different room, leading them to another track that leads out to Astar. Turns out they're in a tunnel that was made in the capital a long time ago. Only a small part of it is still usable. He takes them outdoors to the Astarian National Research Facility. Then he takes them to the library where they see Marca (surprise surprise, Husky isn't happy to see her). Cooro just recognizes her as the lady who gave them apples. Fly asks her to make them some tea as he leads the kids away.

He finds out they met Lyra and confirms that she underwent Anima implantation at her own request. He also confirms that he can also remove an Anima, turning the Anima user into a human. He says that becoming an Anima is not something children wish for; they unconsciously draw in Animas in order to survive. A child cries, an Anima arrives. The Anima marking is a scar that he can remove with surgery. Animas tend to leave on their own when a child grows up, no longer being needed. But Fly asks why wait? Why prolong your suffering? The facility can help children lead normal lives.

Husky calls him out, asking what exactly is he supposed to do for them? Fly responds by saying that since Nana is good with a needle, he can have her take an apprenticeship under a seamstress. He then cryptically says that if there's someone that you can't see because of your Anima, you can see them again in Husky's earshot. However, he won't recommend the procedure to Senri, saying that being a Kimunkle the Anima are sacred to his culture. The offer stands for everyone else though. Cooro himself says that Nana should do what will make her happy.

We later seen Nana bathing to prep for the surgery. Cooro himself is thinking by the window, wondering if he really will be happier without an Anima. I mean, he had one since birth so he wouldn't know. So Nana is being led to the surgery room to be prepped for anesthesia. She hesitates and admits that since it's the last time, she wants to say goodbye to her Anima. She sprouts her bat wings and bat ears and thanks them for helping her and introducing her to her friends. When Marca asks if she's ready, she flies off, saying she's changed her mind. She's not happy despite her Anima; she's happy because of her Anima. And hey, if it's going to disappear when she's an adult, what's the rush? She then rushes over to see Husky, afraid that he had the surgery and Husky pops out to yell at her for screaming. Nana hugs him and says that she didn't have the surgery. Husky says he thought about it but didn't go through with it; he's happy the way he is. When Nana asks where Cooro and Senri are, Husky says they never wanted to remove their Anima in the first place so they're probably in the waiting room. The chapter ends with them going off to search for them.

[tyrannuspitch]

things i liked about season 2, a non-exhaustive list

alex's overall state of mind. skipping school and turning up bruised. getting scolded for absences when he's just witnessed a murder. the way he speaks to sabina - very gentle and a little uncertain of himself, but also, scarily intense. the fact that he's afraid he's "dangerous" and "losing his mind", and others call him "unstable and "damaged", and this whole time he is fixated on yassen, whose name he knows but who he keeps calling "the man with the scar". (there's a kind of symmetry in there, isn't there? someone else dangerous and damaged who might have answers?) the way he's clearly reliving ian's death through ed pleasance's attempted assassination and he's convinced that this time he can fix it. and maybe finally get those answers he never got to begin with.

also the fact that everyone is telling alex he's crazy even for things he absolutely knows to be true but can't prove! the moment with the police where the contact info alex was given fails! sabina's reaction to alex saying he'd been employed by blunt! i'm not blaming sabina in context, but like... there's something very powerful there. alex is a child who has been horrifically abused and he can't tell anyone for any reason because they're more likely to assume he's delusional and/or lying than believe him.

the sense of inevitability, despite the whole season apparently turning alex's recruitment process on its head. how quick alex is to accept that it's Happening Again and he has no choice but to respond, how he actually seeks out blunt even though he must think there's a good chance blunt will use him the same way again if he does make contact, how blunt's refusal to listen actually backs alex into a corner and puts him in more danger. how alex's grudge against blunt's department for what they did in season 1 is slowly eroding. tom talking about "what they did to you" vs alex talking about blunt & co "leaving me behind".

how smithers and jones see themselves as helping alex, when what they're actually doing is enabling him going into the field alone without backup and with only minimal intel, while using the intel he gives them... and alex is grateful for this because it means someone is doing something. :(

how alex fucks up with smoking mirror. because he ISN'T an agent, he doesn't have training or backup or access to anything like the information a real agent should, he doesn't even have means of self-defence beyond his bare hands. how smoking mirror is somehow surprised by this, because he assumed alex having an adult's responsibilities would mean he had an adult's... resources? respect? rights? how he wanted alex to protect HIM. when alex is just a fourteen year old looking for any adult who can give him answers or help.

alex deliberately modelling himself on ian - "do you think if ian was here he would just walk away?" - and yassen viewing alex almost entirely through his relationship to john - "find scorpia, find out who you really are"... but that's not who alex is. that's who john was.

[tenthgrove]

Hello, I just saw that you opened your request. I'm the one who ended up writing a whole prompt! Imagine this for each member from La Squadra: they had an one-night stand with a random woman, she accidentally got pregnant and decided to have the baby without telling them. After a while, the woman got ill and passed away, but not without before sending her child with their father (let's imagine she has the direction of their hideout even if it's ooc, or she knew where they hang out). So, one day someone knocks the door and introduces themselves as the kid of one of the members/if it's too young, someone left them on the door with a explainatory note... How do you think each member would react by discovering that they have a child and they're supposed to take care of them from now? You can make each kid with different ages if you want, it would be funny to see Prosciutto or Ghiaccio dealing with a rebellious teenage son or Risotto trying to take care of a toddler, but I guess not all of them would want to keep their children. Sorry if it's a lot, haha.

La Squadra did a Diavolo

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic/Familial, SFW

A/N: your idea about mixing up the ages got me thinking, and I ended up using randomisers for the children’s ages (though I did consciously change some of them) and genders. It added a fun bit of chance to this prompt.

Formaggio, with an 8 year old daughter

The whole thing feels surreal to him. There's a little girl on his doorstep calling herself his daughter and by all evidence, it's true. He doesn't really know how to feel about it at first. On one hand it's kind of cool he had a kid all this time and you're clearly a lovely girl, but on the other hand, what the fuck? Still, not being the practical sort, his sense of sentiment far outweighs any question of how he's actually going to look after a child, so without much deliberation, Formaggio agrees to let you stay.

Formaggio isn't too experienced with kids but he doesn't exactly dislike them either, so he figures he knows what to do. At your age you can at least do the basics of looking after yourself, so he isn't too worried. The only problem is that if you ask him to cook for you or help clean your room, his eyes go very wide. He never quite picked up those skills himself, he's afraid, so you're going to have to ask someone else for that one.

The good news is that Formaggio is a very easy-going, fun sort of dad, who is a natural at playing with you and lets you do what you want when he can't be around. He quickly gets used to showing affection to you, letting you cuddle up to him on the sofa in front of the squad and even carrying you around once in a while. He gives amazing piggy back rides.

The bad news (or more good news, depending on how you are) is that you have to leave school. Risotto says that at your age you can't be trusted not to tell anyone your new family is a bunch of assassins, and taking you to and from school each day would be too much of a hassle. Nonetheless, you're welcome to continue your education from home, though Formaggio will hardly push you if you don't keep up with it. Melone is much better on that front.

Despite the risk, Formaggio can't bring himself to force you to lose all your friends, so he lets you keep meeting with them. Furthermore, he knows a few guys in other squads who have kids about your age, so he's happy to introduce you to them if you want a friend you can be more honest about your home life with. Formaggio might not have a clue what he's doing, but he's doing pretty good.

Illuso, with a 3 year old daughter

He's been fearing this day would come for years. A small child knocking on the door of the hideout, holding a note in hand addressed to him, just as a shady looking car drives away. Yeah, Illuso remembers your mother pretty well and he remembers the distinct lack of precautions they took during their encounter. Now, the consequences of his actions are here at his house, and Risotto is currently standing in the doorway of the office looking ready to give him the biggest dressing-down of his life.

After his tongue-lashing, Illuso frantically agrees to take responsibility for what he's done and see to it that you're well cared for, and begins the task of looking for relatives who might take you. Unfortunately, none of your mother's family can be traced, and Illuso can't exactly call up his own right now. Leaving you on the door of an orphanage isn't an option because you're old enough to say where you've come from, so it looks like for the time being, Illuso is stuck with you.

Initially, Illuso is not thrilled. He pawns you off on Melone, Sorbet and Gelato whenever possible and tries to live his life as before. But increasingly, he can't help finding himself visiting your room whenever he's stressed or has had a bad mission. There's something so pure about gently stroking your hair as you sleep. He can't help but feel... attachment, as he rubs his thumb against your tiny palm.

From then on, Illuso starts to make a point of spending more time with you. You're at the age where you just want to touch and explore everything you're given, so letting you make a mess with his makeup and beauty creams is an easy way for him to observe and learn about you. He even starts doing the more practical things like washing and feeding you every so often.

Eventually, Illuso becomes an actual father to you. He loves you as a father should and puts his time into making you happy. Illuso is glad he didn't give you away, as you've opened his eyes to so many things. For the first time in many years, he feels human. He feels redeemable.

Prosciutto, with a 13 year old son

As you tell him your story Prosciutto racks his brains. He didn't have many one-night-stands in his youth but the ones he did have were so far back he barely remembers them, so your mother's name doesn't immediately ring any bells. If it weren't for the striking resemblance between you, Prosciutto probably would have thrown you out for a liar there and then. But as you are, it's clear you're being honest. He lets you in.

After a short interrogation by Risotto to make certain you aren't acting on behalf of some third party looking to infiltrate the squad, it's agreed you can stay, so long as you keep quiet about it to your friends. At your age you can largely look after yourself and all you really needed was a roof over your head, so there's no problem with you moving into the spare room as long as you stay out of the others' way.

Education isn't much of an issue either, since you're likely well settled in your current school and can get yourself there and back. Just whatever you do, don't go telling anyone you live with a bunch of gangsters now. Prosciutto means it, you could seriously put yourself in danger if you do that.

Much to your father's ire, you end up befriending several members of the squad, especially the younger ones like Melone, Ghiaccio and Pesci who have some generational overlap with how you were raised. Prosciutto would rather you didn't do this but at the end of the day, he can't really stop you. God forbid you call him an old boomer again.

Your relationship is overall positive- Prosciutto makes a point of taking you on outings when he has the time, and giving you parental advice when you need it. However that doesn't stop you from making fun of his stuffy, old habits, and playing the moral high ground in regards to his work.

On that note, the problem comes when you develop an interest in the squad's work. It's only inevitable, given how pervasive the topic is in conversations around the house, and the fact you're more than old enough to know what a gang is, but the day you first ask him about it is no less welcome. What's scary is that you're about the same age as Passione's youngest recruits and, well, if you ended up joining them because of him, Prosciutto might never forgive himself.

Pesci, with a 6 month old son

He knew it had been a mistake. Not long after his 18th birthday he'd given in to the squad's pestering about his virginity and finally gotten rid of it just to shut them up. Now he's ridden with guilt. Not only did the poor woman get pregnant because of him but now she's died. He can't help but wonder, the letter attached to the basket you came in was very vague after all, was your mother's death at all related to your birth? If so, Pesci doesn't know how he'll forgive himself.

Pesci immediately panics and stumbles into his Fra's bedroom crying louder than you are. Prosciutto remains calm, advising him to first make sure this actually is his baby through Melone, in case this is somebody trying to trick him, and to then think through his options rationally. As far as Prosciutto sees it, he has two. He can either see to it that you're taken in by a caring, reliable individual, or he can keep you for himself. Surprisingly, Prosciutto's actually okay with the second one, since in his eyes duty to one's family is absolute.

Pesci stammers a bit and asks if he can wait a few days to make his mind up, which Prosciutto permits. But it isn't long at all until Pesci is far too attached to you to ever let you go, and it becomes clear you'll be staying for the long-run. Risotto is hardly happy about this but agrees with Prosciutto's sentiment of family, so he doesn't try to insist you be sent away.

Pesci is an incredibly loving father. He'll dash from the other side of the house at a moment's notice if he hears you crying. That said, being so young himself it's inevitable he requires some help with raising you. Sorbet and Gelato chip in quite regularly, as does Melone when Pesci is desperate enough to fall on using him. Prosciutto helps out too, being your uncle, and occasionally you've even had Risotto answer your cries.

La Squadra can only hope their situation improves somehow in the coming years, since Pesci has no idea how he's going to deal with an older child in a house full of assassins. At very least, being so young it's a long time before he has to worry about things like school. For now, what's important is that you are loved very dearly. Pesci has discovered a new protective streak in himself, something he discovers every time he looks in your eyes.

Melone, with a 4 year old son

When you arrived you were frightened and confused. You struggled to babble out the story you were told to tell as the strange men crowded around you in the front room of the house. Then, a bizarre looking man with purple hair pushed to the front of the crowd, insisting he knew what to do in a situation like this. He carried you somewhere quiet, and gently asked you to repeat your story again. You told him you were looking for your father, Melone.

Melone is elated. He's always wanted a child, but getting into a relationship stable enough to produce one has never been an option with the life he lives. Now the happy accident he never new he had has come home to him! Carrying you back to the living room, Melone introduces you as his son and announces to the team that he will be keeping you.

This is met with some protest. Not only are you of the age where you'll need constant supervision, but quite frankly, nobody trusts Melone to take care of a kid. Melone refutes their accusations harshly, making it absolutely clear he will not be giving you up without a fight. Finally, Risotto surrenders, on the terms that if he catches any signs of abuse or neglect, he will see to it personally that you are re-homed elsewhere.

Melone's parenting style is relatively laid-back. He believes parents should be a 'safe base' from which children should explore the world, coming back when they need advice but ultimately following their own whims within reason. He encourages you to play as you wish and does not stop you from bonding with the rest of the squad. Finding supervision for you while he's on missions proves to be a non-issue, since his stand's massive range means he can often do most of a mission's work at home.

When the time comes to educate you, Melone decides against the risks of enrolling you in school. He is an amazing teacher and can teach you everything you'd need in half the hours of a typical curriculum. Beyond the essentials of literacy and simple maths, Melone largely encourages you to follow you own interests rather than stick to some boring, arbitrary list of useless things a normal curriculum for some reason expects you to learn.

That said, he knows the importance of making friends, so he frequently takes you out to meet with neighbourhood children. All-in-all, the squad is surprised at his sensible parenting choices, and the happy child you are turning out to be.

Ghiaccio, with a 2 year old son

It's almost comedic the lengths Ghiaccio goes to to avoid the problem. As the others crowd around you in Melone's lap, Ghiaccio cowers in the corner insisting that you absolutely cannot be his. It's very obvious you are, of course. You look almost exactly like him, and have a cry to match. You've even inherited the same, mild visual impairments that earned him his glasses. There's no getting away from the truth.

After accepting the truth, Ghiaccio takes you away to his room to 'clear his head' before deciding where to send you in the morning, but when morning comes, that deliberation time quickly turns into a few more days, then a month, then never. It's clear Ghiaccio's become attached to you, and he cannot bring himself to give you away.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have the foggiest clue in hell how to look after a toddler. He has a hard enough time understanding what it is adults want from him, let alone small children. There are times he even considers giving you away again, but they never last long enough for him to go through with it. Bit by bit, he slowly learns how to be a father.

Melone is his primary co-parent. As cautious as Ghiaccio is about letting him around his baby, it soon becomes clear Melone can understand your needs far better than he can. The pair have many sessions together teaching Ghiaccio how to do things like wash you or cook your food. It's honestly a massive help, and probably the main reason Ghiaccio doesn't completely melt down within a month of having you.

These issues aside, Ghiaccio is a person who is very genuine in his affections. He would break the shins of anyone who even looked at you threateningly, and every fibre of his being wants you to be happy. He even learns to control his temper, as he knows from experience just how damaging an angry parent can be for a child. He's going to give you a better childhood than what his parents gave him, and that's a promise.

Risotto, with a 6 year old daughter

Well, perhaps this ought to have been expected. In his early 20s Risotto was really far less careful than he ought to be in regards to his encounters, so he probably had this coming. You are at a difficult age, old enough to understand your father is a criminal but young enough to still need his care. If he takes you in, there will be many challenges. And yet he cannot bring himself to turn you away. Looking at you he feels... obligation.

In the early days he tries his best to shelter you. He keeps you in his room and tells the others not to talk to you. But that's no way for you to live, and he knows it. Eventually, he swallows his fears and lets you explore your new home, even taking you out to the park a few minutes each day so you can run around. He talks to Melone about continuing your education, and asks Sorbet and Gelato if they'd let the spare room next to them be turned into a bedroom for you. He's going to make sure he raises you right.

Risotto may be quiet and introverted, but do not mistake that for emotionally distant. He does not underestimate his vital role in your emotional well-being, and is quick to pick up on when you are feeling sad or lonely. He makes sure to pick you up in his arms and ask what's wrong when that happens.

Though he didn't know her well, he mourns your mother with you, and is very watchful for the signs of attachment issues that may result from losing a parent at such a tender age. Being all you have left, Risotto gains a new instinct of self-preservation. For the first time in years, his life has meaning.

In terms of bonding, he prefers calm activities that allow him to passively observe your interests, such as watching movies or reading you books. When he's working in his office and doesn't need his camera on, he's happy for you to sit in his lap as long as you're quiet. He would ask if you don't read what's on his screen, though, at least not while you're so young. He'll give you a better explanation of what he's doing some day, but not just yet.

Sorbet and Gelato, with a 12 year old daughter

First of all, let's make clear that regardless of which one is biologically your father, they both feel equal responsibility for you. No doubt they were both present for your conception anyway, so as far as they're concerned, if one of them has a secret kid from a hookup, they both have a secret kid from a hookup.

Having always wanted children, they are happy when you appear on the doorstep and introduce yourself as their daughter. Though they don't say it out loud to avoid upsetting you, they kind of wish your mum had kicked it sooner so they could have raised you from a younger age, but they're more than happy to make do with what they've got. There's no hesitation in welcoming you to live with them permanently, and anyone who has a problem with this isn't brave enough to say it.

Right from the get-go they are very permitting parents, awarding you a generous helping of their cash each week and having a rule list that pretty much starts and ends with "don't talk to the police." Despite your age they don't expect you to be independent, and are happy to cook for you and help you out with other things when you ask. It seems parenthood was made for them.

Despite all this, there is one problem in your relationship that is making things difficult. That of your fathers' work. You're 12 years old and you aren't stupid. You know they kill for a living and you know they enjoy it. When you stumble into the bathroom at 1am to find them covered in blood and laughing together, there's no making excuses. No matter how good they are with you, this is going to make you afraid of them.

Sorbet and Gelato are incredibly stringent in solving these early issues. After all these years they've finally got the family they wanted, and they aren't going to let it slip away from their own cruelty. They are honest with you about their occupation, since they want you to know you can trust them, and make absolutely clear it won't affect their care for you. You are welcome to ask questions and receive honest answers, but other than that Sorbet and Gelato will make a point of not accidentally causing you to witness something you shouldn't.

With them, you are welcome to continue your old life in terms of school and friends. They want to spend time with you, but they don't want to overtake your existence completely. When you are up for it, they are keen to take you on outings that interest you so you can spend time together as a family. They hope you know how happy you make them.

[bunchofstraydogs]

Dazai Osamu character breakdown as I understand him

Meaning that this might be inaccurate and your opinion and visage of him might differ from mine, which is just fine. We perceive the world and the people around us through our experiences and expectations. I'm curious to know how you guys see a complex character like Dazai, just please respect everyone's opinions.

Warning: Manga plot mentions, s2 spoilers, BEAST light novel spoilers, Dazai Osamu

Dazai Osamu was introduced into the scene of Bungou Stray Dogs at 14 when Mori found him.

Even at that young age, Dazai had suicidal tendencies and had been wrapped in bandages similarly as he is in the present. Already dealing with too much trauma for a child his age, the fire is fuelled as he was forced to bear witness to the death of the Port Mafia boss at the hands of Mori, the person that took him under his wing. To use him; which was becoming very apparent to Osamu if he hadn't been aware since the start. Now, I'm not saying that death of the previous boss left a particular scar on Samu, he even agrees with it and is something he himself would have done. But that that is the scene that bore fruit of the following quotes:

"Or could it be that you're afraid, Mori-san? That one day i will slit your throat and take over as the boss?"

followed by

"Everyone seems suspicious to those who have an axe to grind."

This tells us right away that he can tell what type of person you are just from the way you perceive your surroundings, which is logical, but not something many think too deep into.

Even less who have their evaluations of others on point like he does. And he has to, since Dazai's plan is always to understand his allies, his enemies, possible allies and possible enemies. He also takes into account important neutral parties that can still, in one way or another, affect the outcome of his plans or decide to align with one side out of common interest. After comes realising the main goals, along with side achievements (just in case some of those maim his allies or ruin the future plans he made) of every party. Taking in their morals and motivation, and being familiar with the ground the confrontation will happen on, he now has the view of the whole chess board and it's pieces in his head. He moves his allies in the right places, knowing how they'll react in the situation to come, and awaits the enemies with open fire arms. He was tought to think like that. At all times. Mori made sure of it. You know how specialists never really stop thinking in their areas of expertise, like doctors, for example, will naturally notice people's posture and look for scoliosis or whatever? How your foot hits the floor, if you're walking straight, your knees and shoulders, etc. Same for Dazai. His brain maps out person's expressions, reactions, choices, personality, etc. in great detail. I'm pretty sure he has eidetic memory, if his conversations in manga with Fyodor are anything to go by.

Another thing his brain does is think of worst possible outcomes.

Not in a fear of what if things go wrong, but as a possible route. He uses it to determine how big of a threat the opposing force is and what steps they'll have to take to achieve that. Knowing that, he'll know how to intercept them. Also, like everything else, it's not something he can control since we're talking about thought process here and that's just how his brain works. Can't magically turn that off. It's especially annoying to him when he's genuinely enjoying himself with, let's say, ADA members and then his brain goes brrr.

•"A lot happened recently and we're a torn in many people's eyes." *Tanizaki and Atsushi drinking punch* "There's a possibility, while a small one, about 8% at this very moment, but as time goes on will increase, that an organisation outside of Yokohama decided we're an unavoidable threat and poisoned the drinks. Don't drink that. Nothing will happen, they'll wake up tomorrow in pristine condition don't drink th-"

Yeah, i feel bad for him too.

He has PTSD and insomnia, besides the hectic brain,

so he's not getting proper amount of rest. Actually, he drinks almost every night by himself at home. Pretty sure it's canon as well, because if you search for a picture of him in his room, you'll see him surrounded by multiple bottles. Two of the PTSD symptoms are hallucinations and night terrors (no, that is not the same as a nightmare). What people usually do is use opium to cause hallucinations in a safe environment so that there's little chance of them happening uncontrolled. He's probably using alcohol to numb himself while he's reminiscing, since if he does still have hallucinations after years having passed by (which isn't impossible), they're probably few and far between. Not saying there's no chance he isn't using opium. He would know where to get what he needs, after all.

Osamu's haunted by his own actions as well, not just by trauma caused to him.

At an uncountable amount of occasions, he found himself looking into a mirror and not really comprehending his image. It was like dissociation. Looking through a fog at what's supposed to be your carbon copy, but not knowing all of your features perfectly, so whatever you're seeing could only be an impostor, yet you're not sure because that would take comprehending physical proof of your life to the fullest and how it works and he just... can't. He can but he doesn't want to. He already knows he's despicable and broken, doesn't really feel the need to see just how much. He can't, for all his perfect memory, remember the faces of the people he has killed. He hadn't even seen all of them, but he was responsible for their demise. Causing havoc and misfortune in general through other crimes besides murder as well. We've seen his expression when he listened in on Atsushi talking to Kyouka over the earpiece how the 35 deaths don't matter anymore. He knows they do and he knows that the change of heart won't justify what he's they've done. Ango thought him to value each life. But he also knows that even murderers can change and become good. Oda did that. It's also what's keeping him in the agency.

When Oda died, his last words mentioned that Dazai doesn't care about good or bad and that was correct for Dazai Osamu back then. I genuinely think that his present self does mind the difference.

He believes in necessary evil and will do dark shit to get the good outcome he's envisioned.

He doesn't separate outlaws and lawful people, however.

He knows that generally speaking, the line is thin and easy to cross and that many were born or forced into the situations they are. Those that fight the life thrown at them are an exception, not a rule. That's also why he likes Atsushi, probably the main reason. The boy has every right to hate the world and yet. Dazai is envious, he doesn't really have the same capacity.

I want now to talk about why does Dazai Osamu do what Dazai Osamu does.

The reason he attempts suicide, joined the mafia, made friends at all, is because for all his intelligence and observations, ability to understand others, he doesn't really understand himself.

He doesn't understand his worth. He doesn't understand his purpose. In all of that confusion, he finds no reason to live. He laughs but can't get the high, he bruises but can't fully heal. In all of the things people find happiness in he can't feel joy from. He is emotionally stunted. He thinks too logically. He doesn't understand actions out of emotions because to him, it doesn't make sense. Emotions cloud your mind and when you're not thinking straight, you make mistakes. Plain and simple. He just accepts it, that most people simply cannot control themselves and prefer lashing out instead of methodical approach. All the better for him, he has leverage. Even when he does act on impulse, which is incredibly rare and not as explosive and dramatic, his brain rationalises it as to why his actions were a good way to go. And if his reaction was one that bore fruit, than it was a tactical one.

"If you place yourself somewhere close to raw emotions, where you're exposed to raw violence and death, instinct and desire, you can brush against man's true nature. I though that way i could find a reason to live somehow."

From this, i can tell that he was hoping that, in a situation where he's pushed far enough, he'd realise what's important to him, what he wants to protect or destroy, what's one thing he wouldn't want to leave unsettled before dying. What is that one thing he'd regret dying before achieving? What should he fight death for. What is worth living on for? To him, it doesn't matter if that something is good or evil as long as he gets to keep it in his life.

It seems he hadn't found it exactly, but is satisfied with what he has for now, in the agency, to just keep going. But he still tries to commit suicide, hoping that one day, when the clear picture of the world around him is fading away, when he's becoming light headed from the lack of oxygen, when he's loosing control over his body and thoughts don't seem to flow well, there will be one thing, anyone, screaming at him to fight it. New day new chances. It didn't happen today, better luck tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomo-.

Now, like Mori, Dazai feels the need to, at all times, be in control of the situation. Including people.

That means no one, but perhaps Ranpo due to his own abnormal intellect, is aware of their own role. They know their mission, but they're not expecting to be given that particular one because they'll come across an obstacle they would react to in a way that would satisfy Osamu's plans.

Dazai Osamu is more of a chemist, than a chess player, if you ask me.

Throwing different people into the mix, under different conditions at different times and is noting down their reactions in safe surrounding if possible, so that when the time calls for it, he'll be able to make a perfect concoction for the predicament. A chemist and his substances; A chess player and his pawns; A puppeteer and his puppets. Now, Dazai is meticulous and never rash, but like everyone else (except effin Lovecraft what is he even) he's only human and he bleeds when he falls down and humans aren't perfect. He isn't always right. That means he makes mistakes. The issue with big shot players that control the board is that, when they fall down, everyone on their side crashes and burns as well. So the day Dazai fucks up everyone else will follow because of lack of insight on their part that's completely out of their control. All it takes is for him to underestimate or overestimate one person and chaos ensues. There is no such thing as happy little accidents small mistakes for someone like him. I have crippling anxiety and a sole thought that one hiccup could blow up in everyone's face... damn. I would try committing suicide myself. But it's his fault, he brought upon himself an obligation and pressure like that. To be fair, it was Mori that drilled that type of thinking where no one should know what you plan because they can't ruin what they don't know If they turn against you, they can't stop you.

For his own sake, and everyone else's, Dazai needs to learn how to show his cards and share the burden.

Again, going back to the emotionally stunted guy that has commitment issues (where he either can't commit or can't let go) trope.

He never outright does something good for someone where people would acknowledge it, he uses his underhanded tactics here as well.

He casually makes himself look like a bad guy, an asshole, to conveniently move attention from the inner turmoil a person is struggling with to a present problem at hand that they can fix and let their frustrations out on. But he hopes that, one day, someone just might notice his intentions for what they are and do the unspeakable- see through him.

"I'm a very private person. You don't ask, i don't tell."

Yes, and your whole existence is just a huge cry for help. He wants to be asked. He's begging for attention. A specific type of attention. One that will see him without making him feel imposed on. One that will understand his sins without making a big deal out of it. Accept him as a person he is, makes him feel like one as well. Makes him feel alive. Makes him feel... period.

The day he finds that thing is the day he completely turns his life around and fully dedicates to it. It's where the part of not being able to let go commitment issue ensues.

Since Oda's death he's been secretly keeping an eye out on possible ways to bring him back. If you've read Beast AU you know that when Dazai gets his hands on the book, he'll create a universe where Oda doesn't die. Should he find an ability user that can bring back the dead, just tell him what it will take, he's ready to destroy his own soul for it and if that isn't enough, well, he'll have no hesitation ruining theirs. After all, BEAST!Dazai Osamu never actually met Odasaku, he just had the memories he'd gotten from his canon self and that was enough for him to do everything he did.

He's incredibly selfish and has a weird come in but the door is a wall dynamic he rolls with in his self imposed solitude.

It's like the walls of the space in my brain are ugly and terrifying, so i closed off the entrance to keep myself in. I'm doing you a favour but please break the wall down and tell me it's okay to come out i don't want to be here-

Happy little thoughts woah woah yeah~

That's what i got from what I've seen of him. I may have missed some things, some things might prove to be wrong as the series progress further, but yeah.

There is, however, one more thing i want to put out here. Since Dazai was already like this before Mori found him, that begs to question as to why? What happened to him?

Now, since the characters are based on real people, is it crazy to say that Dazai Osamu has had a horrible childhood because of his father? Real life Dazai was terrified of his dad and was very intimidated by him. He always tried to stay in his good graces out of fear of punishment. Neither of his parents felt like a parent to him, actually. His father didn't care and his mother was often ill, but did care for him when she could. Both of them died eventually.

This could be the plot Kafka based Dazai's background on, but we'll have to wait and see.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝓐𝓾𝓻𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓐𝓼𝔂𝓵𝓾𝓶: 𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟹𝙺

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚄

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I breathed out an airy and desolate sigh through my nose, obviously I unconsciously did it a little too loud as the raven haired male sitting across from me looked down at the floor.

"It was all my fault.....wasn't it?"

I looked up, the glasses sitting on my nose bridge tilting slightly that I had to push them back up so I could study his features, or should I say, his expressions. His eyelids never blinked once, his eyes were trained on the pattern of the carpet underneath him, but I knew his mind was elsewhere. I looked with pity at the bandages wrapped around his wrists, some of the edges stained with fresh blood. I gulped slightly, my stomach threatening to spill out my meager lunch of an apple and avocado toast slice from earlier. I could handle hearing patients tell and retell me about how they stabbed their parents to death, cut off their significant other's genitals because they were unloyal to them, even tackled a deranged lunatic that once tried to...... seduce me to put mildly.......

But to this day, I can't help but get dizzy when I treat or deal with patients who are self harming victims, because yes, they are victims. Victims of their own self loathing, guilt, and depressive state that isn't their fault. It just pains me so much to see them resort to such drastic measures...

But I'm also not stupid and know some, if not most only do it for attention or to manipulate others, and Yunho is a case not far from it. Which is why I was the one sent to deal with him. All the other psychologists would have fallen for his sad puppy eyes, good looks, well built physique and would have released him too early into the world. Not that he's dangerous and a threat to society, but he's not emotionally nor mentally stable to go deal with daily life yet. And I'm not a softie by any means even if I'm patient and meek doctor when necessary. But I'm objective and I seek deeper into the true person hiding behind the front they put in front of me.

"Do you believe it was your fault Yunho?" Usually one would get scolded for answering a question with a question, but I prefer this method in order to get my patients to reason and draw out their own conclusions......

And makes them pour out their true answers.

I watch Yunho ponder for a moment.

"It has to be- otherwise she wouldn't have...wouldn't have-"

He bites back a choked sob, teeth tightening and gritting against themselves as he fails to contain his tears. His hands cover his face as he begins to cry uncontrollably, desperate and heartwrenching wails resonating throughout the 4 walls keeping us company. Reaching for the purple plaid box on the coffee table between us, I take out a few tissues and stand up from my seat. Lightly tapping on his shoulder, I whisper a 'here' to him. He thanks me, but since he's crying too hard no sound comes out his throat. For the next few minutes, he's blowing out his runny nose, all red just like his eyes from crying too hard. He's sniffling while trying to control his previous hyperventilating session. I want to hug him or at least give him a pat in the back. But I can't, I can only sit back and try to imagine the agony he's probably going through, try to put myself in his shoes as I dive deep into the event that got him here in the first place:

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Coming back from a trip to the store, Yunho momentarily looks around confused when he heard his baby daughter crying. Quickly putting the bags on the kitchen counter, he makes his way over to the nursery that adjoined the main bedroom. Calling out for his wife, he receives no response as he walks down the hallway. He calls once more for her but stops midway as he opens the slightly ajar door. His heart stops beating and his veins run cold as he stares into the lifeless body of his beloved wife hanging in the room, feeling as if the oxygen is being ripped out from his lungs, suffocating slowly.

As if sensing his agitation, his daughter's cries from the other room grow louder, so much that they raise concern from their next door neighbor, a kind and sweet old lady who more than once has offered her help in watching over the child or help them out in any way she could. Typing in the passcode, she makes it there just in time to stop the tall male from inflicting more harm upon himself as he holds onto his wife's body in agony. Having been left with no choice, she immediately calls for an ambulance, who arrive there shortly and take him to a nearby hospital.

He was monitored 24/7 as he had a history of attempted suicide before. The nurses and doctors didn't want another episode to happen again, not wanting to leave a barely 1 year old fatherless as well as motherless. As an investigation went, police found a journal hidden deep between the mattresses on the bed. When they poured over the first pages, they knew there was much more to the story than just a doting husband who couldn't live without his wife, hence why he was relocated to the infamous asylum......

And a specialized woman was tasked to not only unmask the truth, but hopefully help a poor broken mind be put back together again.

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Hence why I'm here now, the folder I had read over and over again still on my lap. It honestly amazed me that I'd actually get to work on a case like this, and of course I took up the challenge of digging into a mind like Yunho's, not just to help him, but to leave a precedent for any other situations like this that came after.

"A precedent?" I remember the officer asking me.

"Yes. You'd be surprised just how common these types of toxic relationships there are in an everyday basis yet no one ever looks deeper because they're too focused treating a depressed person who's trying to kill themselves and don't focus on what they really are...."

Shutting the folder, I tucked it under my arm before turning on my heel.

"A manipulative individual who'll do anything to keep someone tied to them forever."

That's how I viewed Yunho, it's how I should be viewing him. At least until I could hopefully get him to change.

"How's......is my daughter ok?"

I let out a soft hum and nod as I scribbled something down on the notepad.

"She's fine. We're having someone take care of her in the meantime, don't worry."

Yunho let out a sigh of relief, fingers fidgeting against his thighs as he mustered up the courage to say something.

"Could I.....could I please see her?"

From the sad look in my eyes he could already tell the answer was negative.

"I'm sorry Yunho....I'm afraid until we see some improvement, we can't allow you to be reunited with her just yet."

I tried to keep my voice steady as I said that, bracing myself to possibly see him breakdown once more. He had already lost his wife and now learning that his only child was forced away from him could possibly send him spiraling down into another episode.

But Yunho instead took a deep breath and seemed calm.

"I understand.....it's ok..." I knew he was saying those last two words more to himself than to me.

Lifting his face up, he suddenly shocked me by looking so bright and rather happy.

"So I guess it's best if we begin right?"

Even to this day, I don't know whether I should have been delighted to have such a compliant patient.....

Or terrified.

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"Tell me Yunho, what was your first reaction when you saw your wife?"

A subtle hint of a smile curled at the corners of his lips.

"I thought she was the kindest and most caring person in the world, very pretty too. She just walked in and the room instantly lit up."

He was reminiscing about those times, I could tell. That fond look on his face was unmistakable.

"Do you believe you fell in love at first sight with her?"

His smile suddenly dissipated, eyebrows scrunching together as if recollecting memories from so long ago.

"I think.......I felt attracted to her.....but.....I don't think it was love?"

I could tell he felt conflicted with himself, but that's exactly what I wanted. I want him to question every feeling and sensation he felt at the moment so he could decide for himself if it was real or just a mere illusion he held. If he starts to second guess or question what he felt then he'd start reasoning and come to the conclusion that what he felt was wrong and mistaken. He'd see that his actions weren't justified.

"So when do you truly believe you fell in love with her?"

I stopped writing on my notepad and watched him close his eyes as he tried to pinpoint the exact time he felt whatever he thought was love.

"One night....one of our friends was feeling down in spirits. I witnessed how caring she was towards them...kindly reassuring them that they were loved, that they mattered. I vividly remember her kind eyes and loving smile as she comforted them. Then it hit me that she was that kind of person. Selfless, caring, doting, would sacrifice anything for her friends and family...... it was hard for anyone not to fall in love with her."

He turned his hand over, studying the wedding ring that he still wore to this day, the engravings of their initials being his prime interest.

"And at that moment I knew I had to have her. I couldn't let anyone else have her. I wanted her.... that love, compassion, empathy..her confidence and strong nature, I wanted-"

He stopped mid sentence and his eyes wizened in horror as he came to the realization I had foreseen long ago. He looked up at me, meeting my unwavering eyes that held no emotion at that moment.

"She had all the qualities I had always lacked in."

I took my glasses off and nodded.

"And I unconsciously wanted them for myself.... but the only way I could have them was...through her?" He seemed sickened with himself.

"Not exactly Yunho. You could have learnt to love yourself and raise your self esteem." I quickly scribbled my observation down.

"But I didn't. Instead I caged her up and slowly tore her down."

I couldn't help but let out an involuntary smile as he drew out that conclusion.

"Glad to know you've accepted that fact, even if it took several months for you to understand."

Shutting the notepad, I lifted myself up from my chair, straightening my blouse. Yunho followed suit.

"Is our session over?" He was always so polite, always escorting me out and holding the door open for me, which other doctors would have adamantly refused, too scared to come close to their patients. But not me. I let them have certain liberties at times.

"Not yet Yunho. As you've made remarkable progress, I got permission for you to see someone."

He was momentarily confused for a split second. Poor thing probably thought it was one of the nurses coming in to give him some new medication to take, which he hated with a passion. Stepping outside for a brief moment, I happily took the young baby in my arms, the little girl already used to seeing me as I always went to go see her after being with Yunho for a few hours. When I came back inside he had his back turned to me, once again staring off into nowhere. The light gurgled babbles the baby emitted caught his attention immediately. He whipped his head around so fast I thought he'd break his neck for a second. He teared up as the child began squealing in excitement as she recognized her father right away.

"Oh my-" He choked up with tears that he couldn't finish his sentence.

I calmly walked over to him, lightly bouncing the baby in my arms. Yunho hesitantly reached his hands out.

"Can I..?" He had such a hopeful glint in his eyes.

I didn't answer, I merely held his daughter out to him. As soon as she felt his embrace, she latched onto him as if he was one of the teddy bears she often slept with. Perhaps he was one.

No....he is one.

In my time of spending time with Yunho, I've come to strongly believe he is a sweet and tender individual. And judging by the way the little girl feels safe in his arms, I do believe he is capable of being truly loved.....

If he learns how to properly love not just someone else, but himself too.

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Stepping out of my car, I quickly grab the small pink bag on the passenger seat before locking it. Treading through the small patch of green grass, I ring the doorbell and wait for one of the occupants to open up for me. No surprise, I'm greeted by the same raven haired male I met nearly 3 years ago. He looks delighted to see me.

"Y/N. Hi!"

I wave at him, a small but genuine smile on my features.

"Hi Yunho. Did I come at a bad time?" I notice the apron covered in flour and leftover egg on it.

"Oh no not at all. Please come in."

Moving aside to let me pass, my nose catches the scent of baked goods filling the air. I can distinctly recognize the hints of lavender and french vanilla, an odd but surprisingly tasty combination. I spot out of the corner of my eye a little head peeking out from the kitchen, curious to know who had come to pay them a visit. Letting out a squeal, she quickly ran over to attach herself on my leg.

"Y/N!"

I chuckled and lightly run my fingers through her hair which was longer than the last time I saw it.

"Hi Jina, I see you've been baking something." We both chuckle as I scraped off some cake batter that had gotten on the tip of her button nose.

"Me and dad are making cupcakes for my friend's birthday party tomorrow." She explained.

"Wow that's a really nice gesture. I bet they'll turn out delicious."

Remembering that I was short on time and that I had one last task to carry out, I pull out the bag I had hidden behind my back and hand it to her.

"It's for you."

Her eyes began to sparkle so much they could rival all the stars in the galaxy. After thanking me like 20 thousand times, she plopped her tiny body on the couch to tear into the contents inside it. I shake my head before taking out a small paper from inside my trench coat.

"And this is for you."

Taking the slip from my fingers, Yunho opens it up and scans what it says. He seems confused for a moment, not fully understanding what it means. He looks to me once more, probably for the last time, asking for an explanation.

"It's your official release from the institution. No more drop in visits, no more eyes on you 24/7, and soon you won't have to continue with the prescribed medication, although when that happens they will send someone once in a while to check up and make sure you're ok without them."

Yunho nods but it is a rather sad and pained nod.

"So this means you won't be seeing us any longer?"

I inhale deeply and nod.

"This was a temporary thing until you got better Yunho. After all....I was only the doctor assigned to you."

It hurt me to say that as much as it probably hurt him, as much as it'd hurt Jina to know I wouldn't be coming back anymore.

"Can't we at least be friends?"

I hated seeing those puppy eyes of him practically beg me, signature trait he passed on to his daughter.

"That would be completely unprofessional of my part Yunho. I deeply cherish and treasure all the time we spent together and I'm beyond happy and satisfied that you've come so far since the start of our journey..."

I sighed deeply.

"But every journey has an end." He finished my sentence.

Extending his hand out to me, I took it and gave it a firm shake.

"I'm really going to miss you." He admitted.

"Me too. Me too."

Going over to the momentarily forgotten 4 year old, she let out an 'oof' when she suddenly found herself cooped up in my embrace.

"Take care of yourself and of your dad ok?"

I kissed the top of her head, her grinning face not registering that this might be the last time she ever saw me. Yunho walked me out the door and even escorted me all the way to my car. Always the gentleman, he held the door open for me. Before I could even get one foot inside, I felt a large hand grip my wrist. Turning to him, I was flustered when he suddenly pulled me close to him.

"Please don't leave. I need you....I..."

He looked conflicted with himself as he tried to finish his words. Taking a deep breath, he confessed:

"I love you."

My heart sank. He said the 3 words I hoped he'd never direct at me. Mainly because I was scared as he was. Don't get me wrong, Yunho is a wonderful man, and he truly deserves to be loved....

But am I certain that he has finally learned to love? Or is it because he feels he needs me?........

Only one way to find out.

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[yandere-daydreams]

I was curious what you thought of Icarus (from Greek mythology) as a yandere? If he and his darling are trapped the way he and his dad were in the myth, I could see him being the type to sabotage any escape attempt his darling may be planning. They may be trapped, but at least they're trapped *together*

I’ve always loved a good metaphor for hubris, even if the myth is more about his father’s downfall than his own. Still, I can’t hold that against him, not when he’ll be too busy projecting all that trauma onto his shiny new Darling.

Title: Icarus and The Sun.

TW: Imprisonment, Abandonment, Mentions of Fire/Burn Scars, Sabotage, Idolization, and Possessive Mindsets. 

~

When Icarus was ten, he fell in love with the sun.

It was an odd thing for such a young boy to be fascinated by. He’d grown up in castles and palaces, playing with enchanted swords and the children of gods and contraptions so intricate, he’d often wondered if his father was as human as he claimed to be. Not much had changed when he was sent away for someone else’s crimes, when his father had countless hours to craft lutes that played themselves and friends of stone and marble. He hadn’t meant to get bored, he hadn’t meant to lose interest, but he was afraid Daedalus’ talents were lost, when it came to his son. He’d never been a terribly thankful child.

He missed the world outside their labyrinth, the world beyond their tower. He’d had just enough time to get a taste for freedom, and as the years ticked by, he couldn’t help but long for it. Above it all, he missed the sun. There was a window in the highest point of their tower, a spot where the stones lied in such a way, there was just enough room for a young boy to sit, perched in a crack in the wall, and stare at the sky from sunrise to sunset, watching Apollo’s chariot until his eyes burnt and he could imagine how it’d feel to be in its light. If he tried hard enough, he could forget where he was, where he’d been trapped. Forget the way the chill had permeated his skin, forget the callouses on his fingertips from helping with his father’s experiments, forget that’d he’d probably die - captive and alone - for a genius that hadn’t even been passed down.

He dreamt of it, sometimes. Sprouting a pair of wings and flying away from Crete, flying higher and higher and higher until the oxygen left his lungs and all he could feel was warmth. It troubled him, but confiding in Daedalus was like confiding in one of his creations. He had a way of hearing but never listening, taking in and spitting out just as quickly. Hearing the useful information, hearing what he wanted to, and providing a solution, consequences be damned. But, the all blame didn’t lie on his father. 

When the method of their escape was revealed, he should’ve known better than to test the Fates. He was older, by then, a teenager. A young man who should’ve been smarter.

But, he hadn’t been, and…

Well, everyone knows how that story ends.

In all honesty, he was a little disappointed. Even washed up on some rocky, bleached shore, his skin blistered and every part of his body aching, the tide was cold enough to leach the heat from his soul, as sharp and unforgiving as any maze could ever be. He thought he would die there. Not of flame, not of water, but of exhaustion, of a hypothermia he couldn’t cure with a wayward star so far out of his reach. But, you were much too kind to give him such a peaceful ending. Too much of a guardian.

His guardian. His savior. The helpful hand that dragged him off of that beach and bandaged his wounds, that made him feel warm for the first time in years.

His Sun.

Your prison was more spacious than his, but it was a prison all the same. An island, too small and too isolated to ever hope to encounter a rouge visitor. There was fruit and fresh water, but you were alone, abandoned by a hero who couldn’t end his tale without an act of tragedy. You’d blushed as you told him, ran your fingers through your hair and taken your leave shortly after, as if it’d been your fault you’d been left for dead. As if you were the one to blame for someone else’s selfish deed.

As if your downfall was deserved, rather than a misdeed forced upon you for someone else’s mistakes.

For months, you tended to his wounds, helping him to walk, to eat, and talking to him all the while. He wasn’t very good company, unused to companions whose lips could move at all, let alone so quickly, but he made sure to nod and smile as you showed him the grooves, the springs you knew like the back of your hands after so long, the flow of the currents that made it impossible to come near your home without a proper ship. He loved it - the way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about your progress, your next plan, how if you just had one more nail, one more canvas, one more good day, you’d be able to sail away from your isolation with him in-tow, to Crete or Athens or any other city that would take you in. Icarus didn’t think he’d receive a warm welcome, but he couldn’t bring him to tell you that. He didn’t want to ruin your fun, see you fade into the lifeless creator his father had become.

Grow as dull and as cold as he used to be, before you.

He watched on and helped you mend lengths of worn cloth into sails, gave up the little knowledge he’d taken in, spent his days carving wooden planks from branches and rutters from trunks, if only to see how your smile grew whenever he laid his meager offerings at your feet. He healed slowly, confined to the shade more often than not, but you never complained, never bemoaned his limitations. You were too caught up in your freedom to care if he weighed you down, too distracted to notice how slowly he moved whenever you dragged him to the edge of the water, how his grin was always a little more forced when you took another step towards your inevitable flight. If you felt how tightly he held you at night, how hesitant he was to let go in the morning, you didn’t seem to care about his attachment.

You didn’t seem to care about him. He was a placeholder, a momentary necessity, a cloud so tiny and so distant, it’d only stand out in the clearest of skies. You didn’t say it, but you didn’t hide it, either. Why would you?

The Sun would never bother to explain itself. He should just be grateful he got to bask your rays for this long.

You didn’t wake when he slipped away from you, that night. You never opened your eyes, not as he fanned the embers of a long-forgotten fire back to life, nor as he dragged himself over your island, down to the bay where you kept your make-shift raft. He was insignificant, he was unremarkable, but all it took was a spark and a dip of his torch to set your creation ablaze, lingering at the scene of his sin just long enough to take in the warmth of the fire, the satisfaction that accompanied setting it.

The relief that came with turning your only escape into a blackened, charred pile of ash and soot, just as he should’ve done with his father’s accursed wings all those years ago.

When Icarus was nineteen, he fell in love with the Sun once again.

And this time, he wasn’t letting it get away.

[angrylizardjacket]

it's in the blood // this is tradition

Summary: Children inherit all sorts of traits from their parents. Not all these traits are good.

"My reputation preceded me before I was born."

[ charlotte & lola au ]

A/N: 2292 words. Halsey's new album killed me on the spot. i talk a lot about the next gen being mirrors of their parents, but i'd like to go into detail about that not necessarily being a positive. @misscharlottelee this made me feel things. i love these kids.

Warnings: overdose mention, addiction discussion, mentions of drug abuse.

Penelope Dingley-Lee

Tommy can count the amount of times he'd seen Razzle truly angry on one hand, and here and now he can see it again, written all over his neice's face. He'd thought she would look like Charlie when she's angry, and occasionally she does, the way her lip curls derisively, dismissively, that's very reminiscent of his cousin, but here and now, her blue eyes are hazy, cloudy, and her lips twist with an irate arrogance that is worryingly familiar.

Angry and high and wearing clothes that don't quite match, in this moment she's exactly her father's daughter.

She's been in the papers again. Her tits have been in magazines again. Tommy bites down on his instinctual desire to repremand her; she'd call him a hypocrite, call him an old man, tell him to keep his opinions to himself while she could still buy his sex tape out of a shady car boot down the street.

Charlie was like that too, on occasion, wit too quick for him to keep up with. When she got into a mood like this, Tommy didn't have to worry so much; usually Razzle would egg her on, but knew when to pull her back.

"It's my god given, motherfucking right to go feral -" he'd heard Charlie back in the eighties holler at three in the morning, high on amphetamines and waving a gossip rag above her head. Razzle would be on the sofa, equally fucked up, but gazing at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

"Lola gets photographed at least once a month stark naked along the strip like it's a sport, why is my Playboy shoot a national crisis?! My tits are fantastic!"

"They are, my love," Razzle nods seriously, and Tommy pulls his pillow from beneath his head, trying to either block out their voices through the thin walls, or maybe smother himself. The girl beside him, the groupie whose name he doesn't know, asks blearily why there's so much yelling. Tommy doesn't answer.

A week later, Tommy is the one to bail out Charlie and Razzle for public indecency, and they're both beaming from ear to ear.

Here in the present, Penny is draped out on the sofa, laughing low and pleased as she watches TV.

"TMZ blurred out my tits," she snorts, "cowards."

"Penny..." he can't help the faintly disappointed notes in his voice when he says her name.

"Thomas, I've read The Dirt," Penny fires back venemously. Hypocrite he hears in her tone, you have no power over me.

There's something hollow in her eyes in the photos he sees of her in the papers. She wears her father's inflluence and her heart on her crushed velvet sleeve, on the arm of a shallow, pretty, band boy who plays badly and loudly. But she laughs louder, though tthe sound is low and unconvincing if anyone bothered to listen hard enough, and Tommy wonders if he has enough dark hair dye left for when that boy breaks her heart.

Jupiter Lee

Tommy is proud to watch Jupiter on stage, but he is afraid.

Their anger is something he remembers from Lola, the way they cling to the past with vitriol echoes their mother, but on stage, they drink up the attention, get high off the love the audience gives, and he sees himself in those moments.

A child of addicts, Jupiter had drawn lines in the sand for themselves that they refused to cross; no alcohol, no drugs, and they'd stayed loyal to that. But highs come in all forms; they simply picked a different kind of poison without realising.

On stage, halfway between the gutter and a god complex, Tommy knows the smile they wear all too well.

Rebellion from Jupiter didn't shock the world like it did when it was Penny's name in the papers. Jupiter's trajectory was spot on in the eyes of the public, but rebellion wouldn't be the thing that broke them.

Once, so long ago that it's a miracle the memory survived, Tommy remembers asking Lola what she would be doing if she wasn't with the band. Lola gave him an easy, bleary smile, laughing sweetly when she told him that one way or another, she'd be here. In the moment it overwhelms him with love. In hindsight it breaks his heart.

"Come on, I think this is inevitable," Jupiter smiles on television as an interviewer asks them the same question; if they weren't making music what they'd be doing, "as if I'd do anything other than this."

'Don't you know where I come from?' is left unspoken, but Tommy still hears it.

He tries to picture himself in a life without the world at his feet the way he has now. No image comes to mind. Nothing else makes sense. Even if he wanted to do something else, wanted to grow up to be something else, he couldn't even begin to picture it for himself, tragedy and all.

They play their parts. They let history repeat itself. Jupiter makes mistakes Tommy and Lola had already learned from. Penny plays Jupiter's conciousness until the role grates on her nerves, diving head first into chaos, taking Jupiter with her with little convincing.

Tommy remembers this too.

When the world looks at Penny and Jupiter, they like to remember how Lola was seen as a bad influence on Charlotte, but forget that Tommy would have followed Charlotte in to Hell without hesitation.

Leo "Seo" Sixx

Lola has google alerts set up for her son, Seo, because he disappears for months without warning. Tommy asks how he is, and Lola looks to her phone with a tight smile, telling him that he's competeing in a skateboarding competition in Prague. She learned that from Twitter.

Seo comes and goes without warning, and talks to his siblings more than his parents. He loves them, but he hasn't allowed himself to stop for years. He doesn't know how. Then again, neither did Lola or Nikki.

"Jupiter thinks a lot about legacy, don't they?" He's in Tommy's kitchen, eating a poptart, when Tommy returns home one friday evening. He's waiting for Penny and Jupiter to finish getting ready, the three of them going out.

"Do your parents know you're in town?" Tommy asks with faint amusement, though there's a twinge of guilt in his gut when Leo considers that he should probably let them know. Says he forgot. Tommy's not sure if he believes him; like his parents before him, he tends to leave a lot unsaid. It's part of his charm, the world seems to think, but Tommy knows all to well how deliberate of an act it can be.

"Jup's got all this stuff in their head about legacy and who they should be," he continues his earlier thought, "which I guess makes sense, they tie a lot of themselves up in their identity," he shrugs, then, "I don't know Leo."

Tommy's not sure if he's talking about the grandfather he's named after, or himself.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Tommy says quietly, humouring him.

"I think a lot," Seo responds, "I've been thinking about going back on my meds, its weird being off of them." Of course this concerns Tommy, who knows objectively that Seo isn't his kid, but he's close enough that Tommy feels like he's allowed to be concerned. "I'm worried a doctor's note isn't going to be enough to let me compete at the Olympics on speed," falls too casually from Seo's lips, alarming Tommy in an instant. Though it must clearly show on his face, as Seo breaks out into an apologetic grin, "dextroamphetamine, for my ADHD. I've been trying to wean off it for the Olympics, it's been hard -" but his next words, said so blithe, so casual, have Tommy's heart stopping in his chest as he's thrown back thirty years, "I've been on them since I was like eleven years old; it was great, I could think, like the right amount, but now I... I think everything. I feel everything. Its a lot." He shrugs, like he didn't just become an echo of his father.

Seo's parents both died twice from overdoses, and now their son feels like he can't function without amphetamines.

Objectively Tommy knows that they work for Seo, that he's not abusing them he simply uses them to help him function, but the irony is not lost on him. It's a lot to unpack. He doesn't think to ask about the Olympics; it slips his mind until he sees Seo and a silver medal on his Twitter feed.

Lola calls Tommy in tears. She's proud, but she wishes she'd known, wishes she'd been able to watch it live, or go over and support him in person.

No-one in Seo's life seems to fully know or understand his intentions or actions, no-one can predict his next move. He puts up a bright facade, but like his parents before him, he does not trust the world to know him.

They don't know where he goes in the few months after the Olympics, all they know is that he doesn't come home.

Cerie "CerieThree" Sixx

Since she'd turned sixteen, Tommy has never seen Cerie Sixx without a smile. That is a very deliberate choice that she's made.

She's made a choice to rise above the percieved grime of her origins. She's halfway across the country, smiling for a camera she can control, editing her image before she lets it out into the world. Cerie Three - even the name the world knows reflects this; she's picked apart the context she was born into, disecting it, deciding which was useful to show the world, disposing of the rest.

She speaks warmly to her family, from what Tommy can gather, but the people on the peripheries of their life seem more like associates in the coldest sense of the world. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes half the time when she sees Tommy, and she shakes his hand when her brothers will hug him. The internet is closer to her than he is.

Cerie looks the most like her mother of all her siblings; she's 21, the exact same age Lola was when she met Tommy, but half the time he can barely see the resemblence. Lola had let the world see a villain at that age; Cerie had learned from that, had rejected that, rejected the cold, hard humanity of her mother's fronting. Cerie wanted to be perfect. Cerie had to be perfect, hyper aware of her own image, like her siblings seem to be, but the way she'd so effectively shaped her public identity was kind of terrifying.

Perhaps this was what it was like for people who didn't know Lola, only allowed to know the image she put out into the world, or people who only knew Nikki for his stage presence.

But the more Tommy thinks about it, the more he remembers just how effectively Lola had wrapped the band around her little finger when she set her mind to it, how she talked her way around exectives despite being dressed like she'd woken up in the gutter and fucked up on any number of drugs. Lola understood people, and it seemed Cerie did too.

Cerie Sixx, twenty one, doesn't stop creating content, doesn't stop studying, and doesn't stop smiling. Two of those three things are inhereted traits, inhereted determination, and the third is a choice.

Cyrus Sixx

Though Cyrus had inhereted much of his parent's musical talent, the same way Jupiter had, Cyrus had also inhereted a love of the high life. Even so, he's so full of love, kissing his mother on both cheeks before he goes out to get shitfaced in the bars she was decades before he was even born.

He works hard, at his job, on his music, but his partying matches it just as well. He knows exactly how far he has to fall before he meets the depths his parents' had sunk to, and though he doesn't voice this, his arrogance comes across in his actions.

There'd always be someone to pull him away from swan diving to rock bottom. He takes that for granted, and keeps getting closer and closer.

The only one of Nikki and Lola's children who still lives at home, he's the only one like them in the way they'd feared.

"He's going to have more success than he will ever be able to comprehend," Nikki had told Tommy, the day after Cyrus had been admitted to hospital after staying up for four days while high and obsessing over a song he had been working on. Nikki had found him having a fit after having fallen from his desk chair. Now, sitting on Tommy's patio in the sunset, he looks tired, he looks afraid, "if he doesn't end up killing himself first."

A month ago, the fire department and the police had to pull him, kicking and screaming and bareass naked from a tree in the middle of town. His parents had bailed him out, had felt a familiar sting of guilt as they find themselves reminded of their own youthful exploits. They repremand him, of course, but they both know the only reason they stopped climbing trees was because there had been no-one to pick them up after.

Nikki sees himself in his sons mistakes, but he'd had to learn concequences the hard way.

Tommy loves his family and all it's strange branches, as well as their raucous youth, but his closest friends were some of the most volatile people he'd known, and somehow he'd forgotten that as time as taken people and memories from him.

But these children were made in their image.

[honeyblockm]

Woe, fleshed out HNOC DSMP au be upon ye. HNOC is High Noon Over Camelot, an album that very loosely takes Arthurian myth and throws it into space. With cowboys. Like all Mechs albums, it's dearly beloved to me. You should listen to it.

In this AU Wilbur is Mordred and everyone else fills the roles around him based on that. People die. I'm having a great time.

Starts with the Syndicate rolling up to Camelot and killing the dteam. Yeah. The only concrete role that's filled is that Philza is Arthur. The rest of the Syndicate fall into the general space that Lancelot and Guinevere were. But they're still the Syndicate, so a bunch of anarchy friends. Not a romantic polycule. No stars and night this time, sorry.

Camelot is now an anarchist commune. (Why does the hanged man keep calling Phil the once and future king. We fucking hate kings.) Syndicate sticks around to make sure everything's running smoothly, resources are distributed, nobody tries to make a grab for power.

Ender table!

Once things are stable, Phil goes back for his kids. He returns to a ruined encampment, ransacked by Saxons. Wilbur and Tommy are presumed dead.

Wilbur and Tommy are not, however, dead. The Saxons took them in. This is how they meet Tubbo.

Wilbur grows up and takes in a young Fundy with the same mercy that was shown to him and his brother all those years ago.

Eventually Wilbur leaves Annwn to travel the desolate world. Fundy follows. Tommy does not. Wilbur comes to Camelot and makes a place for him and his son there.

He knows who Phil is. Phil doesn't recognize him. Wilbur doesn't tell.

There's a statue in the town. How the ropes that she hangs from in the gallows have managed to stay sturdy for as long as Camelot has existed, nobody knows. (And nobody has used the gallows for a long, long time either.) Anyways the statue. A regal thing, dressed in foreign clothes, a crown atop her head, a strip of cloth concealing her eyes. A name, carved across her chest reads: ERET. A long time ago, it'd said HEROBRINE, but it's been so long that most of the carving has worn away with age. So all that's left is read as ERET.

Sometimes she speaks. Sometimes she bids people to look into her eyes.

Wilbur looked into her eyes once, and now he won't go near the gallows.

ERET speaks to Phil, who doesn't believe her when she tells him his sons are alive.

ERET speaks to Schlatt, the newcomer. He's ambitious, charismatic, and an asshole. He does not listen to her advice, nor ERET's warnings. (He and Wilbur always seem to find themselves at odds with each other, Wilbur's kindness against his ruthlessness. Wilbur wants to open up Camelot to the Saxons, Schlatt laughs in his face. It's a struggle.)

ERET speaks the most to Fundy, who find himself spending long hours in conversation with her, much to the delight of ERET and the anxiety of Wilbur. One day, ERET tells him to sit at the seat at the head of the Ender table.

The chair! Right. Yeah, you know, the one that has killed one person who tried to sit on it and drove the other mad. That one. Fundy expresses his concern, but ERET thinks he can do it. And he trusts her. And maybe he's tired of Wilbur's overprotectiveness. Maybe if he does this he won't be treated as a child anymore.

The motherfucker pulls it off! Side effect of sitting in the magic chair: nightmares. Drifting in and out of dreaming, half caught up in decades of ship logs of every happenstance on Fort Galfridian.

Because guess what! You've been living on a space station this whole time! Also the space station has long been abandoned and is now slowly falling into the sun. Fuck.

[fundy voice] hey dad I sat in the brain-explodey chair because the statue you're deathly afraid of told me to.

[wilbur voice] you wh-

[fundy voice] also we're all going to die if we don't get the GRAIL

the GRAIL is a key to the ship interface that would allow the user to take command of the ship, turn on all the systems whose absence have made Galfridian such a waterless hellscape, and most importantly, fix the fort's orbit and keep it from falling into the sun.

It's a treacherous journey to reach the GRAIL and the Syndicate puts together a party, with Fundy to guide.

In their absence, Wilbur decides it's his chance. He's been making slow (slow) progress on getting the Saxons let in, but if he brings them now and it works- and it will work -then once the Syndicate comes back to see everyone happy and peaceful, they can't exactly kick the Saxons out now, can they? Once they activate the space station, resources won't be so sparse.

Schlatt won't like it, but Schlatt can't stop him.

So he does! He does convince Tommy and Tubbo and the Saxons who raised him to take a chance with Camelot.

Cut to the Syndicate and Fundy, the GRAIL party travels deeper and deeper into the ship until the only thing between them and their goal is a door. Only to find that it's guarded by two automatic gun turrets that are, unfortunately for Fundy at the head of the party, still active and still very dangerous. (The implication is that he dies, lol.)

It's Technoblade who walks up under the gun turrets, fielding every wave of deadly fire until the guns finally click off, empty.

He doesn't die, tho. Technoblade never dies. Super fucking messed up though, bullet holes and blood everywhere.

[philza voice] what the fuck mate

The previous holder of the GRAIL is the DreamXD, who is stuck in a dormant state in a lifepod. Whatever. The Syndicate kills him lmao.

They get the GRAIL, puts it into the ship operating system. They're told to designate a Captain, and then they realize the GRAIL can only be controlled by one person.

Feels like an issue

Anyways back above, the Saxons meet with the Camelot residents for the first time. The tension is thick enough to bleed syrupy blood if slashed open with a seax knife.

Wilbur steps forward, does not notice the scorpion by his leg. Tubbo does, and draws a knife to kill it. Schlatt sees this and mistakes this for aggression, fucking shoots Tubbo. Everything descends into chaos.

Blood! [Cheering] (Most of the Saxons are dead. Including Tommy.)

This is what I spent all these words building up to! Fuck yeah so much death!

Something breaks in Wilbur at this. After the fight, he follows the trail the Syndicate left.

Meanwhile the Syndicate settles their standoff, mutually agreeing to let Phil take the lead in this. They're about to designate the Captain when there's

Four shots. Three to hearts and heads and throats, one to drop Philza to the floor. The rest of the Syndicate is dead, and Wilbur, tired and bloody, steps out of the shadows (steps over the body of his son outside).

"Father- I'm- I'm sorry."

Whatever was said between the two, it ends with Wilbur carrying his father's wounded body into the lifepod, and FUCKING YEETING HIM INTO THE COLD VOID OF SPACE.

Then he designates himself as Captain, takes control of the space station, and pilots it into the sun.

[bored-storyteller]

Okay, I humbly apologize. I had a bad time - and unfortunately it's not over 😩- but here's the second part with three other leaders. I know I know I know! Malleus is missing! I'll try to post Mal today too- tomorrow, it depends on where you are - I promise.

Please I know you love him so much but love me anyway 🥺

14- Dorm leaders x down!s/o pt.2

Kalim Al-Asim

· Kalim is magical and exhausting at the same time. Yes, s/o love him from the bottom of their hearts, but dealing with him in times of stress is exhausting.

· The young nobleman does not really know the stress, at least, for what s/o can see, and this leads him to overcome any worries. It's not that he doesn't want to see other people's problems, it's just that he can't think of them.

· S/o as the days go by they feel worse and worse. The head often hurts and tiredness brings them into a state of almost half asleep. If Kalim saw this he would be very worried about them, but their presence for him is a fact. He is convinced that if something went wrong s/o would tell him, right?

· But no. How could they say no to his requests? That is, actually there is not even time to refuse.

·  Jamil is worried. He sees what is going on and tries to marginalize the problems. S/o should rest, they could ask him for help - as if he wasn't already doing everything in the dormitory-. But s/o know that the vice leader is already very busy, burdening him with their study problems and their worries is not the case.

Having to deal with Kalim really means having almost never breath. Even his affection can sometimes be a problem.

Yes, s/o certainly love him, but three days before the start of the test session, the thing more than making them happy is shaking them.

They have studied practically nothing and really feel their strength failing. While everyone is studying carefully, they are struggling to finish their homework for the next day.

The nights for s/o are now nothing more than a staring at the ceiling in desperate search for information that does not exist in their head. And the lessons are so heavy in the morning that their hope of getting through the year is almost zero.

Sometimes the idea of dropping out of school even went through their mind. They would certainly be freer.

Right now, s/o they are hiding in the bedroom, surrounded by study books.

It doesn't matter how much they read and reread those words, their overfull mind wanders over their fears, not making them memorize anything.

There is no way they can overcome this. They curl up on the bed, clutching their knees to their chests and doing everything they can to keep from crying.

Suddenly the door swings open. Kalim comes in with his cheer, filling the room with his happy voice.

It seems that he is excited about something, but s/o can’t help but look at him with wide eyes without understanding.

His exclamations echo in their heads as if it were empty, breaking the delicate crystal walls.

"Stop!" They cry when even the last fragile column of their sanity is brought down.

"Stop!" They repeat, bringing their hands to their faces and collapsing supine on the bed.

"Stop it! I can't take it any more! If I continue like this I will go crazy!"

The arms cover the face wet with tears. They are not really shouting at Kalim.

He stops suddenly, a little frightened by that reaction.

What happened? Where did he go wrong this time?

When the silence weighs too much, they still speak: "I ... I need to get out of here, I... don't want to be in this school anymore. "

Kalim listens in silence for a few moments to their sobs, then slowly, shyly, sits beside them on the bed.

"No ..." he murmurs, "I will help you, whatever your problem is." His voice is that of an injured child, but his arms raise s/o to his chest, to hold them against him and protect them.

"Everything will pass, I promise you. But I can't be without you."

The fingers pass slowly through the hair of s/o while his crimson eyes scan the books around them.

Kalim's arms hold them desperately. Right, how could they leave him alone? In short, who would help Jamil then?

That thought makes them smile, and while s/o get up seated they give to the boy a simple and light "ok", and then they resume the study with a quieter mind.

Kalim no longer talks, but neither does he leave, he simply remains close to them a little to comfort them, a little for the fear that they will move away from him, until he ends up falling asleep on their lap.

Vil Schoenheit

· Here, another guy who made stress his life. Some type of stress. Obviously, he must meet expectations.

· This also applies to those around him, or rather, to those who are close to his heart. If he demands so much from someone, it means that he cares about them. In a sense, even his insult when it is constructive is flattering.

· But for an already stressed s/o, dealing with him is extremely anxiety-provoking. You have to be perfect, everything has to be in order, and for an already fragile mind, well, the step to break is not far away.

· Still, he bears a great deal of stress on his shoulders without showing it, but he doesn't notice that others can sometimes be overwhelmed, and his manners aren't exactly delicate when it comes to appearances.

·  S/o are almost afraid of him every time his eyes meet them. What will he say? What's wrong with them?

Yes, they know how important the smile is, but they can't do it. In the library they leaf through the book they hold in their hands with empty and dull eyes.

They don't have to look good, on the other hand disappointment for themselves keeps them up all night.

There is no way they can get through this period, not for how they are.

They sigh, placing the book on the shelves and giving up. They fold their arms on the table as they sit, and there they hide their tired faces.

S/o  would like to go into hibernation, everything would be easier. No commitment, no judging eye ...

"S/o, my dear." The firm voice of the Poemfiore leader makes itself heard. It is firm, severe even if placid.

What's up now? Oh sure. They are not sitting upright with their backs. Hair is probably a mess and their eyes have been ruined for days. They already know to suck, there is no need for him to say it. They already hate each other, and there is no need for him to see how ugly their sticky face is with tears.

S/o do not move, as if he were not there, they remain closed inside themselves, in such a state of surrender that not even Vil can grasp immediately. But he understands that something is wrong. It never happened that they ignored him.

 “S/o.” the name is repeated again, but this time it is accompanied by the delicate hand of the leader who touches the hair of s/o.

As soon as the fingertips touch the head, as if they were of fire, s/o spring back, scared as if they had a ferocious beast in front of them.

Vil stares at those eyes so full of fear. Afraid of him.

In their dark circles he sees all the suffering of those days, all the dozing sadness. And in that situation of desolation, they feared him as if he were their enemy, the one who wants to harm them.

"No… Please..."

A prayer comes out of their fragile lips as if he is ready to kill them. He's not sure if they're clear-headed... no, they seem to be in another world. A dark and lonely world.

Vil's white fingers caress s/o's chin. They do not retreat, but tremble as if they were blades.

"I won't hurt you. I'm just worried about you."

His words are clear, as always, but a little sweeter than usual. He patiently sits in front of them, without losing contact.

"You can tell me what troubles you."

Finally the gaze of s/o meets the beautiful eyes of the boy. Eyes so beautiful, admired, and at this moment sincere.

S/o they bend down again, resting their forehead on Vil's hand while holding it with theirs. There they cry, for once without the weight of the angry gaze, but only surrounded by affection, while Vil gently caresses their head.

Idia Shroud

·  Ok, how to say, this guy is made of stress.

· Idia fears the social relationship, people stress him, what is not his room and his computer stresses him. He is not an easy person to manage.

· S/o are practically elected. They are fortunate to be admitted to his. In short, they can remain curled up on his bed without him saying anything.

· Usually are s/o who take care of him, who try to support him and calm him down, but sometimes of course they are the ones who need support ... but well, Idia practically doesn't exist.

· It is not his fault, but even if he cares about s/o in a way that even he did not believe possible, he is not good at social relationships. Very often he will limit himself and stay next to them, still connected to the internet. They don't mind, usually.

But this time the boy's body isn't even close to them. He is far away, in the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the screens. Yes, they are not even totally sure that he is aware of their presence.

Ortho, to their disappointment, is not present.

S/o don't need to be there, but for some time now they have felt a lump in their throat that they can't swallow. They have failed a test, and there is no way to recover it, or so they believe.

The truth is that they are nothingness.

They have to study, but loneliness echoes in their head. Nobody wants them.

So they slipped from the leader of Ignihyde to find comfort. It would have been fine even if he had been silently beside them, but no, he was elsewhere. They had seen an excited light in his eyes when they arrived. Maybe chat with someone online? Of course, those friends are better than them.

A failure, a weight, that's s/o.

Small tears wet the already dimly lit page.

In the darkness in which they find themselves, they sink into the anxiety and fear that they have been holding inside for weeks.

That horrible feeling of emptiness that causes the brain to tilt.

Idia does not notice the sobs. S/o are hidden, curled up into a ball on the boy's bed. Nothing makes sense to them anymore. More they cry, more they lose consciousness of their surroundings, and everything disappears.

Idia is too caught up in his game. He does not really notice that s/o are not well.

Only when he turns enthusiastically to communicate something to them does he hear them.

Sobs are louder now, but they don't know it.

Heart breaks in Idia. How long have they been crying? Two hours will have passed since they arrived. Why didn't they speak?

Oh God, it's his fault ... he sucks with people so badly, and he always ends up hurting them.

Maybe they came to him because somehow they believed he made them feel good, didn't they?

He gets up from his chair, unsure of what to do. Embarrassed he approaches them.

God, they seem so fragile. Will he break them if he touches them?

Slowly, as if he were dealing with a kitten, he places his sweatshirt on them, and then, a little scared, he sits next to them.

They seem lost, s/o don't react.

Idia feels the butterflies in his stomach from agitation. Suddenly, it seems to him that the figure of s/o is fading away in the dark of the room. It's scary.

Shyly he stretches his arms around the small figure and carefully pulls them into his chest.

He feels their sobs freeze for a moment, almost frightened, and then finally the muscles relax, while they abandon themselves to him.

"Sorry, I'm a delusion..." They murmur, clinging to him.

So is this what they think?

"No ... you ... I ... find you beautiful ..."

He speaks shyly. He's not exactly that these words are what they need, but that's what he really thinks.

His cheek is warm against their head. Maybe he's blushing.

How can they not smile at this?