#And then for the description which is how I actually read it

[xvxblahhhxvx]

I wanna talk about Odasaku for a second, and his character arc in Dark Era

I love Odasaku, and one of the things I love about him is that he's not just there to be the friend Dazai loved and lost, he's a really deep character who grows over the course of the Dark Era novel, and he learns how to speak up.

I feel like his arc is mitigated in the anime, and I'm not going to be blaming it necessarily, it's just that a book written in first person POV is able to achieve a lot more depth to the MC over the anime , which is forced in nature to take a more third person, observational take to the character.

Dark Era spoilers, obviously.

The first thing I would like to bring up is Oda's personality, and for that, I'm actually going to start this analysis off with using a quote from Beast, of all things, because this was honestly the best description of Odasaku ever.

The best way to describe Odasaku's personality is obliviously perceptive. He's really smart, and somehow a complete airhead at the same time. When you read either Dark Era or The Day I Picked Up Dazai, you can sense this in an instant. How this pertains to his relationship to Dazai in particular is that he sees things. He knows that Dazai is hurting deeply, he's one of the only people who sees past the dark exterior and the child deep within, but at the beginning of the book, he won't say anything. He puts Dazai on this pedestal in a sense, and doesn't believe that his input is warranted, and he says nothing, even when Dazai is a walking cry for help. After listening to Dazai casually admit to a suicide attempt via banging his head against a hard tofu block without batting an eye, that's when Ango arrives and tells him off.

However, the conversation quickly shifts, and the matter isn't brought up again.

The next time someone tells Odasaku to speak up when he's summoned to Mori's office, and is greeted with a rather...bizarre scene. Still, he's a low-grunt of the Mafia, and Mori is the boss, so he lets whatever stuff is going on fly, until he eventually interrupts, ignores whatever was going on, and announces his presence. Which prompts the following conversation:

Still, it's apparent he doesn't take these words to heart, and continues to perceive almost everything, but never comments. However, something soon happens which brings to the surface just how deeply ingrained Oda's reticence truly is.

After Oda was chased by the enemy snipers, most of them had enough holes in them never to rise again. Until one picks up a gun and aims it at Dazai, the enemy executive, all other backup too far away to offer any aid. Instead of trying to avoid it or stop it, Dazai walks right up to the enemy and says , paraphrased "shoot me, please shoot me." The whole time, Odasaku's desperation is palpable, and unlike the anime, he attempts to stop Dazai from this blatant self-destruction by calling his name and then screaming it, thinking that he felt they were a million miles apart. After the ordeal, when Dazai faces his friend again, he offers all his excuses, how he knew the sniper would miss, but Odasaku wasn't satisfied. And this is where we get the first hint at how Oda really feels about this:

He wants to say something. He wants to punch him for the stunt Dazai just pulled, because he sees the truth. He sees the child inside of him. But once again, he's restrained by the apparent gap between them in rank and mind. Another important thing to note is that throughout the novel, Odasaku considers their difference in rank a bigger barrier than Dazai does. He makes comments about Dazai helping him, the low runt in the Mafia, but the executive doesn't care. Here once again, Oda is inhibited by this apparent gap between them, but this scene is also growth for him in the sense that he understands that there's a problem here. Earlier, he passively listened to Dazai speak of suicide, but faced with a barely disguised attempt, with the true demons inside of Dazai's mind, he wants to stop him, to reach out, to tell him that it's not ok. But he can't. Not yet at least.

After a later incident, we're given a flat-out description of Odasaku's philosophy, and why he chooses to remain silent. When the two of them are at the restaurant, discussing the enemy, and when Dazai realizes they might actually be a formidable opponent, he laughs, elated with the notion that perhaps he might be beaten. And that's when we get perhaps the clearest look into Odasaku's mindset:

There's a lot to unpack in this interaction: first, we see how much Odasaku truly cares for Dazai, how much he wishes he could rid his heart of the darkness buried deep inside. But the problem is, he believes he can't. He doesn't think he could do anything, at first, he's not sure what to say to him because what could he say? He doesn't think he can reach him. And then the all important line "What we see is everything, and everything we see, we ignore. All we can do is stand before the deep ditch between us and others and keep silent." The thing is, not everyone sees everything. He doesn't realize this. He's so oblivious, he can't even comprehend that he's more perceptive than others, almost like Ranpo when he was younger. He doesn't know what to do with the information he receives but to ignore it, as he says, to see the distance and remain silent through it. But still, he makes a halfhearted attempt to reach out, but is interrupted when Dazai's phone rings, and doesn't bring it up again.

The biggest turning point is the kids and Gide. Gide, who drags Odasaku, a character who seemed to have the healthiest will to live, into the darkness. By removing all his hope, his proof that he could one day write a novel and give up killing forever, he brings Oda down into the pit of despair that he lives in, the pit that Dazai lives in. Where the sun won't shine again, and all that's left is revenge and then death. This is where the tables turn, and now Dazai is trying to save Odasaku from that darkness that he knows all too well. He tells him useless platitudes, cliches that must have been uttered to him over and over that he knows won't work, but Dazai is desperate to save the one he's on the verge of losing. But Odasaku won't let himself be consoled, and he goes on the suicide mission to fight Gide. And only now, now that he's about to die, now that he's in this place of solitude and despair, that he reflects on Dazai and their relationship.

It's only at the end does Odasaku wish he would have said something. When he understands the darkness, he sees Dazai for what he truly is - a lonely, sobbing child. And it's only after this realization that he should have invaded the solitude does he speak up when Dazai arrives, and tells him to be a good man. Because he realizes that the darkness is going to overwhelm him unless something changes, and with his dying breaths, Odasaku gives over the advice that changed his life, not a way out of the darkness, but a way to brighten it just a little, and make living a little more beautiful. Something only he could understand, having tried to walk that path for himself. It can't be that it never occurred to him earlier that Dazai's mental health may have benefited from a...change in vocation, but he never thought it was his business to say anything before. But now that the darkness has consumed him, that's the final push for him to finally say something and reach out to his friend at the last moment before it was too late.

And though I don't think the anime did all of this justice, the parallels between these moments will always kill me.

[evilvvithin]

FOR THE COLLECTION

pairing: asa emory x f!reader warnings: stalking, violence, description of blood and gore, Asa is cute few times that's a warning in it's own, smut but faintly words: 4,421 summary: When he first saw you, Asa thought you'd make a nice piece for collection, but not exactly in the way as other unfortunate victims - you'd be his perfect final piece.

notes: One shot fic but could be turned into multiple chapters later. I made multiple time jumps in this without specifically describing it but i like the story telling it creates. I really just wanted some Asa so started writing and writing and.. :) AO3 link || masterlist (pls don't read my old fics i am not proud of them)

It was finally the day - the day when a huge art gallery opens in your city. You were eager to go as you loved art and everything around it, not even caring all your friend turned you down on the invite at the last second. Despite them all coming up with various reasons as to why they can't make it, you knew they just didn't want to come - it was boring to them. They didn't appreciate the art. It wasn't disappointing though, you expected to go alone, again.

Losing yourself in the paitings for what seemed like hours, inspecting every single brush stroke and techniques, you were so lost in yourself and the art you didn't notice a man constantly following behind you. You've noticed him in the gallery before, but nothing really stood out about him - he looked very ordinary, but well groomed and kept overall, dressed in a simple black suit. 

He loved the way you stood in front of each display for long, making sure you saw every detail in it. The perfect imperfections. The perfections. You looked so peaceful standing there alone - the world around you disappeared. You tend to do it a lot, but he already knew that as it wasn't the first time he saw you at grand opening like this one.

“Fascinating, isn't it?” He nonchalantly said right behind your ear. 

You jumped, heart raced a little, looking at the man observing the painting now standing right behind you. 

“How they created such masterpieces without all the modern technology. Masterpieces that live forever. They were geniuses. All the years and no one could beat them to it.”

You smiled at the man, nodding. “I agree. I just can't get enough of it despite seeing the art so many times. It feels different every time you look at it.” 

“This one especially is my personal favorite.”

“Oh, same!”

The two of you looked at each other, excitement pouring out of you. You were here alone, mesmerized by the art - so was he. He was quite attractive now that you focused on it - casually looking but clean. Simple, attractive man with smooth yet sharp facial features. 

His phone beeped and after checking it quickly, he sighed annoyingly. “Have to go.. but would love to chat with you about art more.” 

You felt the heat running to your cheeks. His straight forwardness took you by surprise. 

“I-me too. Yes.” You mumbled out hoping he doesn't notice your awkwardness and reddish cheeks.

He himself felt a little awkward despite presenting himself so confidently - his way of getting girls usually didn't include talking to them trying to impress them or invite them out. 

“Can I have your number, then?” He smiled and handed you his phone in which you typed it. 

“People usually exchange socials and stuff,” you said and returned his smile.

“Oh, yeah. I myself find phone numbers more.. intimate. People don't hand these out publicly like their socials.” He let out a chuckle as he saved the number you gave him. The chemistry between you two was almost visible in the air. “See you later.”

“See you!”

What. An. Interaction.

Watching him disappear around the corner your heart pounded as if you just realized what happened, but you were definitely going to give it a shot and meet him. If he actually called you later as he said that was it. While you hoped he would actually invite you out, you couldn't shake the feeling it was just another fail. Maybe you were too awkward and he was going to rethink his choices later or it was one of those guys just collecting numbers anywhere they go. 

Oh, you were so wrong.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to ignore all that happened and focused on the art again. 

Later that day just when you got out of the shower and were ready to sleep, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. Your eyes widened in excitement as you saw an unknown number on the screen - must've been him. It was a text message, short and simple, inviting you for dinner at a nearby restaurant, with a wish of good night to you at the end. 

Maybe this could work out. Maybe good things were finally happening to you. 

Looking forward to it. Good night - you replied and giggled. 

The date went so good you refused to believe that it was actually real. 

He brought you flowers, somehow knowing exactly which ones you liked and what color. The food was delicious, the atmosphere magical, the tension between you only growing and more exciting. 

Not only the first date, all the other dates you two had were unbelievably good and enjoyable. Asa Emory, as he introduced himself, was smart and talkative once you get to know each other more. He felt comfortable with you and enjoyed his time, making him almost unable to stop talking. He was a professor - his way of talking sold it out before he even told you. He knew how to capture attention and what to say at all times. You could talk about anything for days and never get tired or run out of topics. It felt like match made in heaven.

You learned he was an entomologist later, right before you two started to date officially. You had an idea he had something to do with bugs when you saw his van, at which he had “Deratization” logo. Sometimes when he had time he went around and cleaned people’s houses from the bugs he liked so much. He restrained from telling you, scared you'd back away and feel disgusted, but the more he got to know you the more he knew you weren't so easily squeamish. Your love of horror and terrifying stuff in general might've been weird and off putting to many, but he loved that. You had that morbid curiosity in you, it just needed to grow to its full potential like when a cocoon turns into a butterfly. Though you weren't fond of bugs, you didn't completely despise them either. He thought maybe over time he could get you into the beauty and fascinating world of those little things. 

You also loved his dogs, German shepherds; he had a great taste in everything. Anyone loving animals as much as he did was a good person in and out. Asa used to be so childish around his dogs but at the same getting little annoyed when you spotted him.

“I like moths,” you told him once at a night ride through the city and he laughed for so long. 

Everyone loved butterflies if anything, but moths? Not so common. 

Oh, you were perfect.

Moths, the creatures of the dark and death, yet so fragile and beautiful. 

He was intrigued by you whole. In his eyes deep down you were just twisted as him, but unlike him you didn't let your creativity go free - yet. 

Despite all the tension and strong chemistry between you two since the very beginning, you didn't get physical till later on into dating. It meant way more to both of you, more intimate. Almost like you wanted to just fully enjoy the growing lust, enjoy every single bit of the act itself later. You've never felt so naked infront of anyone before like before Asa. It was so sensual, wild, but also incredibly sweet and romantic. He made you feel like you would crumble into pieces, your whole body shaking as he took care of you - in and out. He felt like exploding every time you touched him, the way you wanted him and lusted for his touch like no one ever did. The feeling that you needed him. 

You visited him at the college often, sneaking into his office room having fun often. Both his room and his house were full of colorful exotic insects, framed carefully behind a thick glass. It made you feel uneasy at first, especially all the giant spiders, which he found funny, but you got used to it pretty quick. They were quite fascinating after all, you had to admit. 

One day you decided to surprise him at his house. Knowing he was teaching till the evening, you timed it so you'd arrive at his place shortly before he would. Buying some snacks and wine on your way, it was unusually cold that evening especially as it was getting darker. You just hoped he wouldn't be late. 

Of course he was. 

You regretted not asking about his work that day even though it would ruin the surprise. With your ice cold hands turning white and purple ish, you checked the time again. Either you go home or use his spare key he told you about. Despite you being together and treating each other's houses as your own, it didn't feel quite right to you to just enter without him knowing. The dogs knew you already of course, not barking or growling, just tipping their little beans on the floor behind the door eager to greet you, their tails aggressively wagging. You waited a little longer anyway, but not seeing any sign of him and your legs starting to shake from the cold, you reached to the plant pot and dug up the key. 

A weird smell immediately filled your nose upon entering, making you gag and cover your face. A mixture of chlorine and alcohol that sat in the house as no windows were opened the whole day. You never smelled anything like that there and while thinking it was weird, you simply brushed it off. It must've been his etymology thing - sometimes he prepped his own display or cut them open to study them. After giving attention to the puppies, you prepared the snacks and wine on the table in his living room, still unable to get rid of the chlorine smell despite opening the windows for a while and decided to investigate. The density of it was stronger upstairs and near the basement. 

When will you be home?

You texted him and immediately received a response.

Work's busy today, it might take a while. Why?

I have a surprise for you.

I'll come as soon as I can. 

Asa squinted his eyes at the screen thinking about what surprise you had in mind. It didn't take him long to realize the reason you asked when he was about to be home was because you were waiting for him there - it was the most logical reason in his head.

“Fuck.” He let out through gritted teeth, jaws clenching together.

You just had to choose this exact day to come over. This exact day when he was working on his collection. He planned to show you his little hobby eventually, with your consent or without it - didn't matter. He was nearly certain you'd do it all willingly and be on his side, help him create the collection. He didn't even plan on actually falling for you when he saw you for the first time, but now that he wanted you to be part of his collection? Part of his journey? His life? 

Sitting in his van all in black with a custom balaclava mask on, a muffled screaming echoed from the back as he punched the wheel. Screams of a young woman stuck inside a little box - a second piece for his collection that week. The first box was already in his house, hidden in the basement with thickened walls in case anything went wrong. Asa did some work on the unfortunate man earlier that day after telling you he's at work. The guy made some mess and he had to clean it up, now wondering if the smell inside the house dissolved already. He turned his head to the back of the car and hissed loudly, making the muffled screams stop. 

Tonight was going to end only in two ways. He cursed silently and started the engine. 

When he arrived at the house and tires screeching cut the silence in the neighborhood, he saw a very faint warm light coming through the windows. Taking his mask off and running his hand over his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the black coloring, he rushed inside the house not thinking twice. The black around his eyes now smeared but still there and squeezing the mask in his fist, he looked like a maniac. Inside his house was quiet, nearly uncomfortably quiet. The table in the living room decorated with wine glasses, bowls of snacks and candles, giving the entire room the faded warm light he saw from outside. 

But where were you?

Your shoes were left right next to the door so you must've been still inside. The dogs didn't rush to the door to greet him - yes, they adored you, sometimes he was jealous. Asa stood still for a few minutes, carefully listening to any noise you or the dogs could make. His patience shortly after rewarded, he heard some faint rustling down below his feet as if a heavy object was being pushed around.

The box.

Rushing down to the basement stairs through the doors you left open before, he found you there exactly as he thought he would - trying to move the box around to open it. 

“Oh, you're here.. Do you smell it?” You said and inhaled the chlorine air again coming strong from the box. 

“I had to clean some mess in the morning. Thought it'd be gone by now,” Asa replied and laughed nervously. “Rather unfortunate the smell is still present. Can't just leave my windows opened while I'm gone.”

“It's horrible, I couldn't even get it out by opening the damn windows - arhh it's so heavy!” You finally let go of the box and looked up on him. “Oh wha- what's all that on your face?” 

He smeared his eyes again with his hands making them similarly black. You couldn't hold your laughter when you imagined it's one of those non washable body make-up and he would have to go to work with the black around his eyes. He laughed too, it must've looked comical without the mask on. 

“What's that?” You pointed at the balaclava in his hand.

“Ah -  nothing. Just a mask. Why don't we go upstairs and have a great night? As you planned?”

While that was your initial idea and the reason you came here, now that you discovered the smelly box you were dying to see what's the source of the awful stink. And why did he have a damn mask on top of all that?

“Yeah we'll go,” you nodded. “After I check the box.”

Reaching down towards the lock his hand flew to your arm to stop you, pulling you harshly backwards. He stood between you and the box now, walking towards you making you back off till your back was pressed against the wall. You let out a moan as the air got pushed out of your lungs. 

“Or how about we have a great time right now right here?” Asa's voice all low and whispery. 

“How about you put that mask on?” You smirked, not fighting him at all.

He grinned - of course you'd ask something like that, you fucked up little thing.

You felt how wet you were getting just from the way he held you locked in one place, his weight pressed against your hips. He placed his knee between your legs and brushed against your core, making you whine and already almost beg for more. Now with the mask on and the black paint covering any skin that'd be visible otherwise, he looked quite sinister - at the same time so hot. You didn't care about the chlorine smell anymore, you didn't care about the wine or snacks, you didn't care why even he was dressed like that with a balaclava. 

There was nothing else except you and him at that moment.

The whole set up and weirdness of the entire evening made the act between you two only stronger - you've never felt so eager to feel him before, not even the first time. To fill you up. There was something fishy about it all, but with each thrust of his - hitting your pelvic - the thoughts were disappearing; soon your mind just blank and your eyes unable to focus on anything. A chill running down your spine feeling his hot breath at your neck, his hands gripping you harder and harder with each sound you moaned out. He felt you slipping under him, his own legs getting shakey as he was close to finishing while you moaned yout his name.

God, you drove him crazy. 

He was so happy when you just passed out on the couch - time to finish his business silently. Couple glasses of wine should make sure you sleep deep. It was even colder outside now; his sweaty skin and clothes from before only made it worse. The second he opened the back of his van, the box shaked as the woman inside kicked around helplessly; yet she was silent other than that. A dose of narcotics made her body go fully limp. Asa chuckled to himself - her vocal cords were probably dead by this point. No one could hear her outside the van, as long as the cloth was deep down her throat; and he made sure it was. Yet, some people still tried to scream not realizing it's to no effect. He found it amusing, fascinating even. The lengths the human beings go when faced with pure survival. He wanted his subjects to obey, but not give up. 

Shuffling the box inside the house, he found you in the same position as he left you with your shallow, relaxed breathing. Tucking it right next to the other box in the basement, he locked the doors carefully, saving the key in his pocket. Tonight ended up differently than he planned at first, but it still met one of the scenarios he expected - you just not finding out anything.

You never asked him about that night, about the face paint, the mask, the boxes. The next day when you woke up they were all gone together with the smell. Asa himself never mentioned anything himself. Obviously. In his head, it didn't matter if you asked or not because eventually you'd knew about it all. When? Didn't really matter. He felt you were already ready nevertheless, but he was still waiting for the right moment. 

Days, weeks, months went by. 

When there was a chance, you two spent all your time visiting galleries or at his place. Sometimes you wondered if he gave up his hobbies except teaching since he had so much free time for you - not like you minded, you enjoyed every single minute of it. During that time, numerous TV news stations reported a serial killer on the loose as some missing people were found dead, again. He always laughed and said you were safe with him, nothing would ever happen to you when he's with you so why pay attention to the news? You didn't pay much attention to it at that time when it came on the news.

Not until the police knocked on your own apartment asking about Asa. 

“He was with me, yes. All the time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Excuse me?”

“It is known you two are in a relationship, ma'am. Don't cover for him.”

“I am not covering up for anyone. I'm telling you he was with me at that time. We were at the grand opening.”

“And what about here?”

“That was our date at the restaurant.”

“Alright.”

“What's going on? Why are you asking all these questions?”

“We can't share much details while the investigation is still going on.”

“Is it connected to the murders?”

“We can't -”

“So it is. You think Asa did it?!”

“Well, he is one of many suspects in this case. Anyway, that'll be all. Thank you for your time ma'am.”

Your mind circling back to that one night where you discovered the box, the chlorine smell. Asa with his mask dressed all in black, black paint around his eyes. The random times he had so much work and then almost none. The latex gloves you found in the trash later but didn't think twice about them. Grabbing the phone you were about to text him, but thought it'd be safer to just meet him face to face. The police could've been monitoring phone activity of both of you. You didn't even bat an eye at all the weird connections and the police coming to you - all you needed was to talk to Asa first.

Standing in front of his front doors, it took a while before he pulled up with his van. He gave you a confused look at why you were outside in the cold. Without a single word you just got in, taking the passenger seat and motioning to him to drive - and so he did. You didn't care where you were going. After a while you sighed and asked: “Did police contact you?”

He didn't seem surprised or anything. “No, why?” He replied casually as if you talked about the weather.

“They came to my apartment a few hours ago. Asking about you. Asking about where you've been on specific days and times.”

He was silent, focusing on driving. 

“Did you do something?” 

He clicked his tongue at the question as if he was annoyed. So that was it - the time he shares everything with you.

“They said you are one of possible suspects for the disappearances and murders,” you continued, gaze fixated on his unmoved side profile. 

He turned the wheel and stopped in front of a huge abandoned warehouse, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Loud barking started, echoing sharply through the silence of the night. The entire place was like a ruin, the building itself half destroyed. The barking got louder and louder and you saw two german shepherds running towards you, recognizing them immediately. 

“What are they doing here?” You asked and got out of the car to greet them. 

“I bring them with me when I'm working.”

You paused for a moment, your fingers buried within the dog’s fur. “Working?”

That uneasy feeling creeped up on you, realizing you might not know Asa as much as you thought you did. 

“Please-”

“Wanna see my collection?” Asa said suddenly and reached his hand out, which you took without hesitation. 

“I'm confused, you know.” You sighed and followed him, his dogs running around causally familiar with everything. It was their second home.

Despite everything, you trusted Asa. You loved him and always stood by his side and you didn't plan on changing that. Approaching a rusty metal door, you saw like 6 locks hanging at the frame - what could possibly be inside that it needed to be so safe? The dogs squeezed in and ran into the distance, disappearing down the hallway; they were certainly familiar with everything; so was Asa. Following the dog's path, the familiar chlorine smell hit your nose. It wasn't strong at first, but the deeper into the building you got, the stronger it smelled. 

“Is that blood?” You looked down on the floor. 

He remained silent, holding your hand tighter. The uneasy feeling shot through you again like a wave; putting the pieces of the puzzle together you started to think his hobby wasn't only etymology and art. Entering a well lit room, you felt like you walked into an ongoing mortuary. The room looked like a morgue, even having the freezer boxes in the wall. A bloody mess of what seemed like a woman before was spread across the silver table in the middle of the room. Your stomach didn't twist, nor did you jump. You just stood there with an emotionless face, observing. The longer you looked at the mashed redness the more you doubted it was actually a woman. 

Asa on the other hand observed you, his whole body tense and ready if you tried to do anything stupid. He was pleasantly surprised seeing you not panic or scream at the scene in front of you. Leading you to the shelves on the side, you were met with a bunch of live tarantulas inside glass jars. You shivered a little seeing the 8-legged freaks crawl inside and Asa couldn't help himself but laugh. 

“That's what gets you?” He kept laughing. 

Next to the spiders were more jars but filled with various body parts in a liquid. From eyes, tongues to fingers - you name it. Your heartbeat raised once your sight landed on a jar with a woman's head inside, more likely belonging to the bloody mess you've seen just a few seconds ago on the table.

Asa still waited, still doubted you were so nonchalant about everything - maybe you were only playing it. “So?” He whispered, not letting his eyes off you. 

You didn't say a word - you were speechless, as if in a tranz. Letting him lead you further into the warehouse, you were surprised how well maintained it actually was on the inside. He clearly spent a lot of time here. Finally you entered a big hall, followed by the dogs wagging their tails happily. The entire room had a blue tint, every bit of it filled with giant fish tanks full of - something.

“The Collection.” Asa said proudly and his hand flew across the tanks showcasing his artwork.

You had to admit - there was beauty in the morbidity. The creativity and sense of detail that went into every single corpse was phenomenal. There you were once again - losing yourself in art, forgetting the world around you existed, just like the day Asa laid his eyes on you. Torsos sewed together with 4 pairs of arms or more. Two headed legs. Half skinned people with their ribs decorated. You went from one tank to another. Some of the faces - if they had one - you even recognized from the news. 

“Beautiful,” you whispered, making him smile in delight.

He knew you were the one. Since the beginning.

Asa was never really touchy or cuddle type, but now he hugged you tightly and held you for so long, not wanting to let go. You were his masterpiece, the final piece to the collection that didn't need to be any modified to be perfect - just as you were. His collection was far from being finished though, but with you by his side? 

He felt like the collection was already whole.

[tamtam-go92]

To the people who are writing fiction (or anything, it actually doesn't matter) are you writing stuff in your mother tongue first and later translate it to the other language (let's just assume it's English). I'm asking, 'cause I got that problem, that my whole communication on the web is in English and I also tend to write my fiction in English, but sometimes I feel like I should really also work on my prose in my mother tongue German (if I really want to get something published like in the distant future). And of course I have a better expression in German, 'cause German is a great language for prose and poetry, if you ask me. It's very descriptive, and I love how you can just build words by putting them together. But while writing in German, I recently tend to stumble over passages where I exactly know how I would put it in English, but I can't come up with a good German phrase for it. And if I want my fan fiction for example to be read, or my Simblr to be read, I need to publish it in English, and it's kinda easier to just write in English in the first place, even if it's not as elaborate as it would be if I wrote it in German. I really lost the point of this post by now. I guess I just wanted to know which language you prefer using when writing. So let's make this a poll. I like polls. xD

[mothgirl-number-4]

[You're leading Beau through the House. He's been… Nice. Asked the questions you knew the answers to, at least.] [He asked you where you were from.] [You told him you forgot.] [You're in the House's garden now. He's been looking at all the various flowers, plaques with descriptions grabbing at his attention like a moth to a lamp. You sit on a bench, close enough to hear him rattling off the facts he's reading from the signs.] [He says he thinks signs are really important, but he doesn't know why. You talk to him about it, and he mentions the stars before freezing mid-speech.] [He starts rambling everything he can remember about stars, and you try to make sure he doesn't push himself too much. It's not enough, as he coughs up a speck of blood, but you use some healing craft (it hurts, but you don't care) and sit there with him.] [You tell him everything you can remember that he didn't already tell you, this time actually making sure nobody gets hurt.] [He asks about one of the stars names, Regulus.] [You can't tell him much, but he decides then and there that, as a symbol of being part of Vaugardian culture, he'll Change his name to Regulus.] [He says it feels right. You reply it feels nice to say.] [It's half-true. It's easier, at least.] [You spend the rest of the time trying to come up with better nicknames than Reg, which is harder than it really seems.] [You end up calling him Sunshine. It's only slightly ironic.] [You end up agreeing it'd be for the best if you stick together for the time.] [You feel a pit in your stomach as you acquire the Memory of Sunshine. You don't tell him about it.] [He picks one of the flowers, asking of course, and you choose one as well.] [He picks a willow, you pick a zinnia.]

[This is your last day.] [You'd berate whoever forgot to remind you, but you aren't going to make another clone of your past self over something so petty.] [You can't sleep.] [You stare up at the ceiling for the sixth time this week. It's starting to feel like the clocktower. You need to get out of here.] [You get up, passing Sunshine as you sneak through the halls.] [None of the Housemaidens are awake, but it's mostly habit at this point.] [You're in the garden again.] [You walk over to a comfortable-looking patch of grass, and lie down.] [You look up at the stars, alone.] [It's familiar, but different. Different is good.] [Your Sunshine told you that the open roof design was made so that the plants could get enough sunlight to grow, but that they put a tarp over it in winter so that snow won't get all over everything.] [The perfect amount of care so that you won't wither, and that you will grow.] [What a wonderful idea.] [You turn on cue to someone who isn't there. You say all the right things without anyone to hear them.] [It's not even your script and yet you still memorized every word.] [This isn't getting you anywhere.] [You move to a stump in the center of the garden. One of the Housemaidens told you it was enhanced by craft to grow and decay at higher speed than usual, a symbol of Change.] [It's not fast enough to bother you, at least.] [There's a neighboring stump, one crafted out of stone, made to never Change. A duality in eternal life and eternal death.] [You don't know whose bright idea it was to make the stone stump, considering it seems very contrary to Change, but you can appreciate the gall.] [Regulus walks in. He says he didn't know you were here.] [He wears his only other outfit, armor of darkless with lightless stars speckling here and there.] [Sitting on the parallel stump, he gazes up at the stars. You can see tears fall from his eyes.] [He is happy, and you're unsatisfied] [You're... Unsatisfied?]

"Which one is your favorite?" <"I don't have one, yet."> "I thought you might like the one you named yourself after." <"Not everything's in a name, guiding light."> "Is that your new nickname for me? How cute." <"I thought hard about it. Something to fit your one for me. ...Do you like it?"> "...Yeah. You're good at nicknames." <They look up to the stars alongside you. They seem deep in thought.> "I thought you were asleep." <"I was, I think. I thought the same of you."> "I take pride in my acting skills." <You do often catch them wearing a smile that doesn't belong on their face.> <"You are very good. I always preferred songwriting."> "Oh?" <"The rhythm that goes with the tune, the meter and rhyme, it's just enchanted me, I feel."> <"...I don't know how long this has been the case, but I know it to be true."> <They look jealous. They clearly haven't realized it, since the false smile hasn't taken its place, yet.> <They begin to hum a tune. It sounds like a comfortable place, a time of love. It sounds like children playing and birds singing. Then, they stop.> <You, in turn, hum your own tune. A Change hymn of ticking gears and twisting architecture. Of the nature of life and how it goes around and around. Then, you can't remember any more.> <You don't know how you feel about Change, but you are ever so grateful for its followers. You cannot deny it that these Houses are marvels of craft. You smile.> "I'm heading back to bed. You?" <"Yes, I feel I should as well. May I accompany you?"> <They give a bewildered look. Maybe they don't- > "But we'd be heading the same way anyway?" <Oh.> <"There are many paths to the same destination."> <After a moment's pause, they sigh and let you come along with them.> <You dream of weeping willows that cry and a great shadow overtaking your own. You will not remember these when you wake.>

[Your time is done. You're satisfied.]

[You couldn't take your role back, but that's his fault for leaving you alone. You're satisfied.]

[You're satisfied. You fade at last.]

...

[You feel a thread pulled to its limits. A fire burning hot hot hot and something breaking, failing, rotting. You gag on nothing as starlight beams out of your eyes and mouth.]

[The string pulls, choking you as you attempt to scream, but you have no mouth. You attempt to cry, but you have no eyes.]

[The thread snaps.]

[You feel a pulling in your head.]

[And you feel your heart..

p

o

p

]

[You wake up in a room. The first thing you take in is UNIMAGINABLE PAIN. You scream and scream and scream- there are footsteps. You hear the familiar sound of healing craft as the pain subsides the slightest bit. Not enough to be anywhere near comfortable, but you aren't screaming anymore.]

[You sit up, hands grasping at what you realize far too late are bedsheets. They rip in your hands, piercing craft chugging through your fingertips like the drip drip drip of blood.]

[You're already babbling apologies when]-

"Oh thank goodness you're awake, bright stranger."

[That voice. Not from the healer you don't recognize them but you turn to the neighboring bed- you're in an infirmary? -and see another stranger.]

[You recognize that accent but you don't recognize... Him?]

"[Who-]"

[You cough on your words- Vaugardian, Loop! Try again~]

[The familiar stranger looks at you with wonder.]

"Say- say that again, will you?"

"[What, 'who?']"

"No- what was that language?"

[You don't know.]

"[I don't know. Where am I?]"

[The familiar stranger- you're just going to call him the King, it's too similar to be a coincidence. You've never been lucky enough to even consider otherwise. -looks disappointed before lighting up again. His Vaugardian is rough, but understandable.]

"Ah! You're in the Bambouche house of change! Or uhm... The one closest to Bambouche I think... I couldn't really understand them the best."

[The King looks awkward. How could this pathetic whelp end up as the intimidating monster that killed- Blinding- He's speaking]

"They call me castaway, but I prefer Beau, he and him, please. What about you?"

[Oh this is hilarious. The Change god thinks its so blinding funny doesn't it. You're laughing. You're cackling and guffawing and]-

"[Siffrin, they/them, nice to meet you!]"

"Oh, like the savior?"

[What.]

[leonardburton]

the thing is. juno & nureyev's relationship has been such a major guiding thread throughout the podcast and the major drive of season 5, and the fandom has built itself so much (as fandoms often do) around shipping the two of them.

and yet nureyev doesn't show up at all in the last episode! or, he does, but it's only implied (for all we know it could be like. alessandra strong)(i know it's not but it would be really funny) and we don't hear his voice.

and it's so important to me that despite the room that their romance has taken in the plot and in our hearts, his absence reinforces that the point of juno steel's story wasn't a lady getting his man, it was about learning to grow as person for himself and for his friends (and not just his love interest), and it was about finding his footing in life and being at peace with himself and his place in the world. and he did! his growth and relative serenity is so apparent and just. a balm to the soul

and the fact that his man is back is just a nice add-on, not a necessity for his happiness

[st4zia]

Marina, where are you?

[maddestmewmew]

HI IF ANY FNAF FANS ARE READING THIS THE TAGS ARE HERE FOR BLOCKLIST NOT FOR. TRYING TO REACH FNAF FANS…THERES NO HATE UNDER THE CUT ITS JUST ME BEING REALLY FUCKING CONFUSED ABT FNAF LORE

ok now thats out of the way. JESUS CHRIST have i just entered a fucking. rabbit hole?? OH MY GOD??? i was a massive fnaf fan in my preteen years, as was everyone ever in the 2010s..ive dialed back my enjoyment of it, ill watch playthroughs of the mainline games and ive seen the movie but thats kind of it. this being relevent bc i watched an into the pit playthrough, and then saw some tweets about it. MOST of them i understood, until i hit a tweet talking abt some kid named andrew?? and how hes not an sci??? and i was like Hold On. maybe its been some years but i cant be THAT behind can i. i know all the important names..michael afton and cassidy and charlie and what have you..

so i look up the wiki for this kid andrew, and it leads me to a story about a ghost kid attatching himself to william aftons spirit and torturing him and shit. i was a bit confused bc like. isnt that cassidys thing? but Whatevs. also the stories seemed weirdly bizzare to me, like not in a hateful way but like. why is william afton getting an exorcism. anyway it brings up a couple (A LOT) of names i dont understand, but what my brain latches onto is this kid jake, who is described as forcing andrew to Stop torturing english willy, at the cost of Now Hes Stuck Possessing An Endoskeleton. okayyy this is fnaf to me. i didnt know this but its abt what i expect from five nights at freddys.

so i head to jakes wiki out of curiosty, and find out he is from, no joke, one of the most fucking depressing stories ive ever read? i dont mean in terms of fnaf, i mean, FUCKING EVER. JESUS. CHRIST.

its like. in the middle of a fazbear frights book. fazbear frights being these scary stories to tell in the dark type books where its collections of spoooky stories that will shape the minds of children everywhere, but like. fnaf themed.

this story is called “the real jake” and i Highly reccomend you read the wiki instead of hearing it from me like. fourth hand. like im retelling a retelling here. but if you want that ultra telephone sypnosis, here you go:

“the real jake” follows a nine year old boy who is bedridden. with cancer. his mother is dead and his father is overseas. jake is taken care of full time by a nanny, margie.

jake likes to talk with a boy in his cupboard, named simon, who is really his father over the phone, through a walkie talkie. at first, jake and “simon” talk about what jake has done that day, but jake cannot leave his bed, so jake gets frustrated that all his stories are so mundane and depression. so one day simons like, okay, tell me what the REAL jake has done. and its a little game of pretend, where jake tells these silly little stories about what the “real jake” did that day. one day, jakes friend tries to get him to sneak out to go to the arcade, and tries to get him there by dragging him in a wagon, but jake is too weak to make it to make it to the wagon and collapses and throws up, and he explains to margie he wanted to be the real jake for a day.

at some point jake and margie are playing chess, and jake gets super frustrated that he cant see straight. margie calms him down and jake tells her that he loves her, causing margie to break down, and then she Later Finds Out The Doctors Are Ceasing Treatment For Him, which makes margie realize she loves jake as a son.

AND THEN MARGIE GETS THE CALL THAT JAKES FATHER WAS FUCKING KILLED. and she has full custody of jake. she cant bring herself to tell him his father died, so she says simon wont be able to visit for a while.

AND THEN JAKE FUCKING DIES.

AND THAT IS IT. THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY . THEY JUST MOVE ON AFTER THAT. HOLY FUCK??? IMAGINE BEING LIKE 9 AND PICKING UP THE LATEST FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDYS BOOK AT THE SCHOOLASTIC BOOK FAIR AND THEN READING A STORY ABOUT A LITTLE BOY COPING WITH HIS CANCER AND THEN FUCKING DYING ALONE. FREDDY FAZBEAR WASNT EVEN THERE.

[sailor-cerise]

the one thing that made my overnight emergency room visit this year remotely bearable was the totally amazing nurse I had.

And I am not really a small talk person most of the time.

But he made me feel like he cared, made me laugh, made my partner laugh, respected both of us, and did what he could to help me with the pretty awful pain.

He took me seriously when I needed it, and made the best of a miserable experience.

One of the stranger things about training brand new nurses is explaining how to min max small talk. It feels very weird to coach people on how to chat.

[elftwink]

been learning to play ironsworn (gritty fantasy ttrpg which you can play with a gm but is mostly suited for solo or small group co-op gmless play) after having the rulebook pdf for several years (stars finally aligned to remove invisible thing blocking me from reading it idk) because i'm on another solo ttrpg kick & i don't know what took me so long to get around to this game because it genuinely is exactly what i was looking for. years ago when i was playing through solo 5e modules i should have just been playing ironsworn (believe it or not, 5e isn't very suited to solo play and is extremely clunky when you try lol).

also though i have dabbled in some other solo ttrpgs, a considerable amount of them are journaling games which is fun but imo considerably more work (usually by the time i'm a quarter of the way through the journal entry, i know how to entire scene played out and i want to move on to the next gameplay thing, so i get frustrated and bored quickly. it feels like when you solve a level in a video game but don't have the coordination to pull off the necessary move so you have to spend 20 extra minutes doing something you already figured out), so i really appreciate like not needing to write something for the game to progress (ive been taking notes for my own record since im playing solo and thus am not really out loud roleplaying the way you do in a group, but i definitely could do that instead and not take notes and the game would still function perfectly)

& ive been playing by myself but also in the past ive played a lot of ttrpgs in very small groups which has been other games but is mostly dnd and like. we also should have been playing ironsworn so that having a gm was not necessary. have definitely played games where we had to adapt the rules soooo much to do something that is just base game included in ironsworn. plus it's rules-light enough to do pretty complex moves that pose difficulties in bulkier games (ever introduced someone to dnd and they tell you they want to do a sick backflip and catch something and then attack and you have to tell them that will require several different consecutive rolls and some creative liberties with how the rules are 'supposed' to let you move? you can just Do That in ironsworn. use the strike move and describe it. done!)

the one thing is that although it's rules-light enough to theoretically play any setting or genre (some with more difficulty than others), ive found so far that like... the grittiness and sense of threat is very built into the mechanics so that would be sort of difficult to work around or change (but i think it's great from a game design perspective). what i mean is like, okay: you start with 5 max hp. there isn't really a way to raise this max hp, you just slowly gain abilities (assets) that make you less likely to have to lose the hp in the first place, or that make it easier to recover. when you encounter foes, you rank them on a scale of 1 -5, and enemies on the lowest side of this scale do one harm to you, while enemies on the highest side do five harm to you. so even though encountering an epic enemy won't always be deadly due to the assets you have, they are ALWAYS capable of taking you down to 0 hp with one good hit. so the feeling of threat is much more present compared to games where your character starts to be able to just tank and push through a failure or huge threat.

admittedly also i'm playing solo, im still learning how to balance combat, and also i built a character who has NO combat talents and iron (the close quarters fighting stat) is one of my lowest stats so i personally am under much more threat than if you built a character who knew how to fight or who could do deadly harm. but also the other thing about combat is it's extremely difficult to maintain control of the fight; you have to score a strong hit to do it on basically all moves, and there's a really limited pool of moves available when you don't have the initiative, and obviously none of them really favour you. i don't know that this makes combat genuinely more difficult, but it does make you feel like the fight is always about to spiral out of your control. every second you let it drag without decisive action feels like it brings you closer to dying. like i said, this is a feature of the game design and not a problem in any way. just thinking about it because when i was initially learning i was going to try to supplant it into a homebrew fantasy world of my own but the tone just wouldn't be right. and that it is somewhat difficult to replicate the kind of worlds that i typically play or run for dnd, which tend to lean somewhat sillier and definitely much higher fantasy

but i like to try new things and tbh especially in dnd i find that i very rarely feel that sense of threat and when i do feel it, it has nothing at all to do with the actual mechanics and reality of the combat and everything to do with how well the dm sells it to me and makes it sound and feel scary and dangerous. which is a testament to what a good gm can do for you but i do appreciate the threat feeling more built-in and also being actually real.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[brutal-out-here]

Hang on a second, when the show was first announced everyone was talking about how insane it’s going to be to see these literal children going through these traumatic events on screen compared to how when we were kid’s reading it, it seemed like a dream to be able to do. But now there’s people complaining that the show is showing these traumatic events in a realistic/serious way??

[raininyourblackeyes]

My cousin, a published writer, a well-known poet in my country and a literature professor, for whom I've always been no.1 support ever since her first attempts at writing in high school, told me that I must stop writing as a hobby because that's her thing and since I'm writing fantasy mostly my writing could never have any important artistic value anyways.

[triglycercule]

i love doodling swapinverse like hello drawing characters aside from the normal mtt is lowkey therapeutic 🧡🧡🧡 anyways i FINALLY FINALLY finished crash's lore!!!! and vice.SER is connected to him,,,, theyre interconnected!!! i forgot how much i liked crash's design (not the design but all the little gimmicks in the design. figuring out all the hanging ribbon bits is annoying but hey it looks good)

[ozlices]

oh yeah i took a curious peak at the yttd manga like. idk. a week ago. i only read the first couple chapters, but. it's... so different. & somehow MORE GRAPHIC???????? i skimmed to see how they handled mishima & somehow it's more traumatizing than the game. wtf.

[fragmentedblade]

I called it, Ruan Mei is deranged and shady as hell

[spock-adoodledoo]

oh my god i just finished the dark forest finally. 7/10 i suppose, i went through the first half or so of the book being really annoyed by luo ji but also enjoying the chapters where he shows up because unfortunately he was entertaining. still don't understand the imaginary girlfriend thing, it just feels like he needs someone to protect from the world which like ??? ok sure i guess, it just rubs me the wrong way personally. for the second half and especially the end i became luo ji's number one defender it's fine. for the rest, holy crap—the droplet, the microcosm of the universe on those runaway ships, the wallfacer project, luo ji drawing from rey diaz's plan, the attitude of the world towards him, the entire theory... wow