"I’m a writer I swear-"

I’d like to imagine that once upon a time, Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship wasn’t so toxic; built on abuse, founded in an organisation for killing. 

(for the sake of these, I will refer to Ryuunosuke and Gin as Akutagawa and Gin for my own sanity and Akutagawa is Atsushi’s age which means that there’s a 3-4 year age gap between Dazai and him.)

He and his sister had been left to hold their own in the slums, and him being the older one made it so that he was never to be fully relaxed... he couldn’t afford to be. So when Dazai came to the slums and found them, Akutagawa felt as though he could breathe for the first time in years. 

Dazai was everything Akutagawa could want in an older brother. He was smart and funny, kind, caring, knew exactly what was going on in someones head and how to make them feel better. He was all compliments and gentle reassurance; he made him safe for the first time in his life. 

The first week Akutagawa and Gin had been recruited into the mafia will forever be the best week of Akutagawa’s life. It was the first time he’d slept in a bed with a full stomach, woke up to breakfast, had running water at his fingertips. And every morning, Dazai would ask how they were doing- to make sure they were getting used to their new normal....and regardless of whether is was the mafia or not, for Akutagawa, it was paradise. 

And on top of that, later that week Akutagawa and Gin would be introduced to the people who would become their best friends in the entire world. Dazai’s partner Chuuya with his flaming red hair and even more fiery personality. Q, a quiet little boy who would melt behind Dazai’s leg, using his coat to hide from the world- but once they got talking, despite his age, Akutagawa found himself clinging onto every word the boy had to offer because everyone knows the quiet ones know the most. And Elise, whose relationship with the mafia boss confused him, but regardless, he enjoyed her innocent personality, a stark contrast to the others he had met so far. 

Everything seemed to be perfect until Mori had announced that starting next week, he was to become apprentice. To be trained under the legendary mafia executive would make most tremble but Akutagawa was just thrilled to be able to spend time with Dazai- his big brother. 

So of course, he walked into the training room with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. Looking up at Dazai, eyes wide with excitement, searching for Dazai to reciprocate his emotion but was only met with a cold hard stare of.....disappointment? 

‘Dazai?’ He nudged the older boy, ‘your face is funny.’ He giggled, confused as to why Dazai didn’t laugh along. But all confusion left his body and was left with bone-chilling dread when a loud slap echoed across the room. Dazai had just hit him. And just, the first person who had managed to make him feel safe- added another crack to his shattering heart.

The hardest part of Dazai going from his Dazai to cold Dazai was that he was never told what he did from. It had just simply gone from witty reassurance to....to nothing. But Dazai had him hooked- he knew that somewhere under all the bandages and cold unmoving eyes- he was somewhere. And maybe- just maybe- all he needed to do was be better. 

Gin begged him to stop pushing himself so far. She couldn’t lose the last person she had left. But Akutagawa refused to listen, saying it was best that he just sucked it up to prevent her from the same fate. But deep down- he knew Dazai would never hurt her the way he hurt him- hell Dazai wouldn’t ever lay a finger on her, and with that he could sleep peacefully. 

Akutagawa went through a phase of flinching at anything and everything. A door shutting too loudly, the bang of a gun, footsteps that crept up on him. The ice in Dazai’s voice. This is whe Chuuya picked up on it. When he found out he and Dazai got into this huge argument. Chuuya couldn’t possibly understand why Dazai, who had been hurt by Mori so many times, would act like him. And when he voices his thoughts, he’s hears the most heart breaking reply leave his best friends mouth.

‘Because he’s just like me- I can see myself in him- and people like us don’t make it through Chuuya. Either he gets killed within month or we’ll find him hanging from the roof before the end of the year- I can’t see another person go through that- he’s not going to live, but I need him to survive.’ 

Little did they know, little Akutagawa’s shoulders trembled as he pressed his ear against the door. That was the day he decided that he wasn’t going to give up, no matter how bad his cards were.

Not exactly sure who this is relevant to but it always gets to me when I read fics for anime and people get the name order wrong. This is all coming from a Japanese person btw.

So unlike English where its “first name” “last name” its the opposite, so your family name comes first. So it tends to be more formal to call people by their family name but that doesn’t mean that thats always the case. Until the end of middle school, basically no one refers to you as your family name unless its during role call or someone's personal preference. When you get to high school, it becomes slightly more normal but most people stick to second name basis.

In a fic I’m reading rn (its a bsd fic) - every time the characters have an angsty moment, they call each other their last name (i’m sure its coz the author thought it was the other way around and got it mixed up) but if using the name Osamu Dazai as an example- Dazai is his personal name- therefore calling him Osamu is less personal, and much more on the formal interaction side.

As for anime such as haikyuu, I still wonder why they have people in the same age category calling each other by their family name but I suppose its plausible. But how the third years talk to each other, for example Suga referring to Daichi as his family name in front of younger members then his second name when its just the three of them (Suga, Daichi and Asahi), which is what our senior vb members are like.

As for people who want to use terms suffixes  end thingys like “chan” (which is pronounced ch-u-n btw) and “Kun” (k-n).....just don’t-. It comes off as kinda cringe especially when used wrong but if u rlly must- here’s how u should use it.

Stereotypically chan is for little girls and kun is for boys. Chan can still be used for girls when they’re older but boys typically dislike being called X-Kun past the age of like 10. Chan can also be used for boys and I’m sure if you’ve watched anime before you’ve heard the term “onii-chan” which means older brother in a cutesy, childish sort of way but isn’t exclusive to your actual older brother. For example you can use it for any male figure a couple years older than you who is close to you, older siblings of friends, and cousins. When attaching chan onto someone's name, the actual name typically gets shortened, like in Haikyuu when Hinata’s middle school friends greet him they call him “Sho-chan” instead of “Shouyo-Chan” another example is my older cousin; his name goes from Akihito to Akii-nii-chan. Same with one-chan, but names tend to get shortened less.

Senpai is also a term that gets used way less than you’d think, so don’t over use that one either. The most I’ve ever heard it get used is teachers referring to older students who may be able to help us with something.

“See if your senpai can help you with this”.

If ur parents have a screen time on ur phone and u can’t read fanfic in the middle of the night as you please, here’s a “hack” for you lmao. 

Find a fic you want to read, scroll to the top and click download, convert into a PDF, proceed to send to urself via messages or whatever message app ur parents haven’t blocked coz chances r that's the one they leave unblocked in case of an emergency. 

My mother: .....child wake up

Me: w-what?

My mother: it's time to wake up

Me: it's 4 in the morning-

My mother: Ik, get up we're climbing a mountain

Me: at 4 in the morning-?

My mother: yeah your cousins are coming as well

Me: i currently do not possess the mental energy nor the physically strength to even attempt murder upon your soul, get back to me in thirty.

Whatever you do don’t think about the first time Tyler met Thornhill. There in the back of the cafe with a kind smile, unlike his other customers, she didn’t kick and scream when the coffee machine broke down, instead she offered nothing but patient. He wished there were more people like her.

Whatever you do, don’t think about how soon Tyler looked forward to her morning visit. (Not in the weird shippy way) but he looked forward to a visit from the one adult who asked him how his day was going, how he was feeling, if he needed any help with homework. Looking back, he should have seen how creepy that was but it had been years since an adult had cared that much.

Whatever you do, don’t think of the first time he admitted to her that he wasn’t ok. That at home, when his dad wasn’t blatantly ignoring the existence of him or his mother, they were fighting. How he’d sit in the bathtub until the water turned frigid because it required too much energy to get out. How at night he’d lay just staring at the ceiling, the terrifying thought of is this even worth it anymore? Will anyone miss me when I’m gone? Circling his head. All he wanted was for his dad to care, just enough to keep him going till the end of the day. But apparently that was too much to ask for. 

Whatever you do, don’t think about how Tyler sat up slightly straighter when Thornhill asked about his mother. His sweet sweet mother whose memory was collecting dust. He told her of her kind smile and gentle hands in his hair. He told her that she made the best pancakes every Saturday and the small family would sit around their dining table and Tyler remembered simply being happy. Then he tells her of the bad days, of the days when she’d drop a plate and her world would shatter. How she’d start off screaming then sobbing, even once trying to take a swing at him before she broke down, begging for his forgiveness. That was the first time Tyler had been scared of his mother.

Whatever you do, don’t think about the day Thornhill set her plan in motion. Concern creasing her forehead as she lured Tyler into her car, a folder in hand. The way his face pales as he reads the papers. “I’m so sorry honey, but your mother was a monster, she wasn’t who you thought she was.” She wasn’t kind smiles and gentle hands, she wasn’t the person who baked the best pancakes and make dad smile as if there was no tomorrow. “And you’re one too, but don’t worry, I can help you.”

Whatever you do, don’t think about how Tyler blindly followed her for a cure he never needed. So grateful that a person like her was willing to be around a diseased monster like him. 

Whatever you do, don’t think of the day that all the trust that Thornhill had built up in his mind crumbled. She had brought him out into the woods, he didn’t mind her too tight grip on his shirt collar as she half dragged him to a tiny, hobbit looking hole in the middle of nowhere. He did, however mind when she tried to shackle him to the cave wall. Yanking himself away as he yelled, “N-no! You’re crazy if you think you’re shackling me to a fucking wall!” 

Whatever you do, don’t think about how her next words stuck with Tyler forever. “You, Tyler Galpin, are a freak. Other than me, if anyone found out what you were, they’d kill you, it's what they did to your poor old mother, I am trying to help you. Be grateful I can even stand in the same room as you. Tears roll down his cheek as he slumps in defeat. 

Whatever you do, don’t think about how he used to cry for help. Scream to the heavens, hoping someone, anyone, would hear his pleas. As whips cracked down, and knives slashed his skin, he screamed and sobbed, begging for death to just take him already. “No one’s coming, Tyler. You are alone.” He doesn’t call for help after that, he just lets the tears fall.

Whatever you do, don’t think about how his hands shake so badly, the number of burns he’s received during work is just not ok. How the bell on the door of the cafe makes him flinch and the colour red makes him sick to his stomach. 

Whatever you do, don’t think about how Tyler wants to break down when his dad asks him if he’s ok. Comments about the bags under his eyes and asks if he’s sleeping enough. How badly Tyler wants to just tell him all of it. What a disgusting monster he is, and how he should want to get rid of it, he should look forward to Thornhill’s secret visits but he doesn’t. He’s scared and hurt and angry at the world for making him this, for making his mother this, for making his hurt.

Whatever you do, don’t think about how Tyler would pace his bedroom, then up and down the hallway, unable to sleep; because when he closed his eyes- all he could see was that fucking cave imprinted in his brain. How he used to wake up screaming in a cold sweat before he threw up whatever he had managed to eat that day. How his dad would worry but couldn’t say anything as he sweet sweet baby boy surcame to a shell of his former self. 

I think we can all agree that the ending was slightly lackluster. Them just forgetting everything we had watched them go through so here’s what I think would have been cool. Like I think what a really interesting dynamic would have been was that the players all remember and that would have opened up a possible S3 of them re-navigating their place in the world with PTSD and becoming closer with players than the friends they had before. Almost like in shows like Manifest or The Hollow. That way the borderlands can still exist in the player's minds without going against the canon of the meteor.

Like imagine Arisu getting discharged and he's living with his dad and brother again but he's a completely changed man. 

He goes from sleeping till 11 to not sleeping at all or on the nights he does sleep it usually ends in screams and a cold sweat with a knife under his pillow. His beds too soft now so he sleeps on the floor. He's constantly pinching himself or trying to wake up from a dream that his family don't understand. Every little detail of his life he now calculates, before it was just within his games but now its the average temperature of everyday, what kind of cars be sees from his bedroom window, when the milk expires... everything. He, seemingly overnight becomes inseparable from this girl named Usagi and his new gang are completely different from Chota and Karabe, their teamwork is seamless and they all seem to understand each other on a level that's incomprehensible. Imagine his father and brother trying to understand how a forensic scientist, a doctor, a kickass martial artistist/boutique clerk, the daughter of a famed climber, and a jobless gamer somehow new each other like the back of their hands. And everytime someone asks them about it they’re always met with the same response. “Sorry, I can’t tell you.” 

Arisu’s brother one day walks into him having a panic attack- he’s crumpled on the floor, basically unresponsive just frantically muttering to himself over and over. Your fault your fault yourfaultyourfault- they didn’t deserve to die. His brother eventually puts its together that he’s talking about the death of both Chota and Karube. His brother explains that it wasn’t his fault, and that he was lucky to survive. But I killed them. And everything is wrong because now he doesn’t have his anchors, the people who held him in place when he was at the edge- and he’s never felt so truly alone in a world where he has more people on his side then ever before. 

Wille panic attack headcanons

Trigger warning: Panic attacks, suicidal ideation/thoughts, self harm, character death (not Willes I swear)

- He’s been having panic attacks for as long as he can remember. He must have been 7 or 8 when he had his first one. Erik found him in his room, under his desk, his hands pressing into his eyes so hard he was seeing so swirly little stars. 

- Erik manages to coax him out from under his desk and wraps him up in his arms. He pulls out a worn brown paper bag and gently brings it to Willies’ lips and whispers, ‘We’re going to play a game. You just have to inflate this bag,  then deflate it. You think you could do that for me?’ 

- Wille barely manages to nod. He’s getting suffocated- drowning from the inside out. He blows up the paper bag, his hands trembling at his lips. ‘I-I can’t-.’ He sobs, tears trickling down his eyes as he shakes his head in a panic. This was how he was going to die.

- ‘Yes, you can. In and out. It's as simple as that.’ So in and out he breathes. ‘There you go.’ Erik whispers, cupping his brothers cheeks, ‘hey, can you look at me?’ Wille raises his chin, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. ‘I’m sorry.’

- ‘Hey, hey, hey- you have nothing to apologies for. Hey, listen, it happens to the best of us.’ Wille looks at his brother, eyes wide, jaw slack. ‘Does that happen to you?’ ‘Yeah sometimes. I can’t help it...and neither can you. So don’t you dare apologies.’

- They only became more frequent after that. The feeling of his lungs slowly constricting on themselves, the anxiety that hums beneath his skin never left, but it was manageable, with Erik, it was manageable. 

- There were times when Erik would watch Wille buckle under their family. Chewing his nails only for their mother to smack his hand. ‘Stop that.’ She would reprimand often times in front of courtiers, who would send his little brother disappointed glances. That always got to him, how dare the adults who had never seen his brother have a panic attack, who couldn’t tell the signs of an anxiety attack apart from fidgeting, judge him.  

- The first time Simon saw one of his panic attacks was only a couple days before their first kiss. Wille is sitting on his bed, you’d think he was a statue if it was for the slight tremor in his shoulders, the way his hand came up to swat away the stray tears that fell.

- Simon didn’t mean to intrude- he was just worried at how quickly the former had rushed out of history, the boy barely looking stable on his feet. ‘Hey Wille, you in there? You left your pencil case in history and... Wille?’ Simon called out again. If he wasn’t in there he might as well leave his pencil case on his desk for him seeing as there was no point carrying around with him all day. 

- As he twisted the door open and let out a yelp when he saw his best friend just sitting there, looking completely out of it. ‘Wille what- are you crying?’ He asks, cautiously stepping forwards. That seemed to snap Wille out of his trace as he responded, eyes still trained of the floor. ‘No- what are you ta-talking about.’

- ‘Your crying.’ ‘No, I’m not. I’m the Prince of Sweden, I’m not allowed to cry.’ Simon walks up to Wille, sits down on his bed, pulls him into his shoulder and whispers, ‘really? Well you’re not the Prince to me, your just Wille so your allowed to cry when I’m around.’ Wille just shakes his head, refusing to acknowledge the new tears that spilled from his eyes. 

- ‘N-no I can’t. Cau-cause i-if I cry then you’ll see m-me for who I-I re-really am and th-then you’ll leave because if I can’t handle being royalty- everyone has real shit going on and I’m here crying about a throne I’ll never have to sit on? Why- why can’t I just be fucking normal- Erik’s the actual Crown Prince and he’s doing fine....why can’t I be fine?’ During his entire monolog his voice slowly gets more airy as he starts to forget to breath.

- Erik, before he had left Hillska on his first day had told him it wasn’t that hard to keep up appearances. That he just had to find away, like every other royal had. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t, why he seemed to be the only royal who felt so pathetically small all the time.  

- Simon just sits there, stunned before he starts rubbing a hand up and down Willes’ back. His hands briefly running through his hair before realising how weird- unfriendship like that was. 

- Wille just whispers for him to do that again. It takes a moment for Simon to realise that he meant running his hands through his hair. The way Wille seemed to melt into the touch made his heart hurt. He seemed so- so touch starved. 

- ‘’m sorry’ He whispers before leaning his head on Simon’s shoulder and closing his eyes, falling asleep soon after.

- Of course after, Simon witnesses the occasional panic attack, and during those times he’d to the same thing as he alway did. Hold him close, whisper sweet nothings sweet everythings  into his ear as he carded a hand through his hair.

- But the worst one Simon ever sees is the day of Eriks death. Wille is catatonic. Completely still on the floor of his room, nothing but the thump thump thumping of his heart telling him he is still alive. Just imagine Simon sitting there having no idea what to do. By now, he’s well versed to helping him through bad days when he can’t seem to escape it all but this? How is he meant to help him through the death of his brother. So instead of saying anything, Simon sits next to him on the floor and tucks his head onto Willes shoulder. I’m here for you. 

- Just imagine the two of them sitting in on the scratchy carpet of Willes dorm room, Simon secretly wishing his boyfriend to start crying, to scream and shout to throw something, anything. And he gets what he wants eventually.

- ‘He’s gone.’ Wille whispers. Before the flood gates just open and he just sobs and sobs. ‘He can’t be gone- he can’t leave me.’ Simon just grips his hand tightly, ‘w-why did he leave me- fuck E-erick, come back-’ 

- They don’t talk about that day. About how Wille screams himself raw or how Simon had dark bruises on his fingers from where Wille had clutched on like a lifeline.  They didn’t talk about helpless “it should have been me” Wille whispered so quietly Simon almost didn’t hear. 

- Post S1 Wille lies down on Eriks’ old bed, his arms wrapped protectively around his body trying to replicate a fraction of the comfort he felt with Simon. Tears running down his cheeks as a million different thoughts running through his head. He wants to tell the world about him and Simon, about the sex tape, about August, about the anxieties he felt, about how some days it just didn’t feel worth it. But that would destroy the family imagine, and of course, that always took priority.  

- He wishes his mum would wrap her arms around him like she did when he was little, before he became a fuck up. Before he became the crown prince. He wished he was worth more than the crown in her eyes- that if something went wrong, she would drop the crown, just for a minute. Be a mother before the Queen. He asked her once.... ‘I am a mother to just one now, but I am the Queen to our people.’ He didn’t ask again. 

- Every now and then, when the Queen would make public appearances and a small child would come up to her, usually with a homemade card or a hand picked flower, she would neal down with the biggest smile and tell the child how honoured she was. Calling them, dear, honey, sweetie- everything he wished his mum would call him. Just every now and then- but no, “she was his mother, and their queen.” And the crown always came first.

- He knows it selfish, he knows. But the attention to everything he did wrong and none to what he was feeling just gets to him so one day, shortly before the end of the holidays, he does something he never thought he’d do. He picks up a blade. 

- Wille is ashamed. Ashamed that he would do something this low, this destructive. Ashamed that he can’t handle a title his brother held his entire life. He feels pathetic as he hugs himself and just cries, not bothered to wrap his wrists until hours later.  

- Simon won’t find out until weeks later. He thought he didn’t want anything to do with his ex, but when he sees him gasping for air, they fall back into old habit. Simon holds him close, rubbing circles on his back while whispering into his ear. In an attempt to stop Wille from scratching his hands raw he holds tightly onto his wrists, his heart dropping when he feels Wille wince, only to see the sleeve of his hoodie had been lifted up revealing relatively fresh cuts on his pale skin.

- ‘Fuck- d-did I do that?’ Simon asks, horrified. Wille just shakes his head, his hands held protectively at his chest. ‘How long?’ Wille just shrugs but Simon can’t make himself ask. It hurts, no longer being the one Wille could talk about anything to, but he gave that up, this was on him. 

- They don’t talk about what Simon saw that afternoon but he finds himself quietly monitoring Wille from afar, often texting Felice when he feels like he’s having a bad day.

- But every now and then he finds himself sitting in his room at home, away from Wille, wondering if he’s hurting right now. Wondering would it be any better if I was were, or would he make it worse. He had every article on the Swedish royal family that came out over the holidays. Just looking at the picture was so weird to see Prince Wilhem- so different from the boy he had met at the start of the school year. 

- His Wille who liked soft woolen sweaters but his hoodies more, Wille who everyone thought was a dog person but actually wanted a cat instead, Wille who slept in on Saturdays but got up early on Sundays because it was the “best was to savour the weekend”. 

- Prince Wilhem was a completely different person. Composed but if you knew where to look you could see the cracks, his hands were always clenched on his knees, his posture looked too forced to be natural, his under eyes were always red- as if they had been scrubbed dry. And it hurt Simon to look at these picture of, of Wille so desperately holding back tears as he carried the casket that held his whole world. He had read somewhere that royals weren’t allowed to cry in public, but he assumed they would have made an exception for his brother.

- So Simon sits in his room, as he watches the whole world spectate the most vulnerable period of Willes entire life and he’s not there to help him through it. 

- They don’t mention anything until after Willes’ confession during his speech when afterwards he felt his lungs closing and tears clinging to his lashes. ‘I want to do it again.’ He whispers and Simon sits him down for the first time and they talk. A proper conversation between people who feel like they can say anything to each other. It ends is a long hug, Simons’ arms hooked around Willes’ torso, each others warmth lulling the two to sleep.