#I stand by the fact that Beast!Mori would do this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ruubles · 3 years

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A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Cursing , Alcohol , Suggestive Themes , Gore , Blood, Violence

Word Count: 7,234

“It has been quite some time since I was last in this room, four years if my memory serves me correctly.” (Y/N)’s hands entwined themselves with one another, nails digging harshly into the subtly soft skin along the back of her hand. Across the table were numerous pairs of eyes trailed along every movement as if at any moment she would seize the opportunity to kill. If it had been back before her leave, then perhaps she would’ve taken the gamble and gone for such a kill; But time has its way of weakening even the strongest of wills

“I believe you’re right. The last meeting you attended was just before you had taken the position in Russia.” There was no helping the sharp laugh that scratched through her throat, bleeding into the air as if it were a snarl from a wild beast. Ogai quirked an eyebrow as he took his rightful spot at the head of the table, it was as though he hadn’t remembered that day the same as she had.

It had been merely a week after Oda’s passing and without Dazai, Mori knew of no way to keep her ability under his control: Everyone in the Port Mafia was under high pressure with the sudden disappearance of an executive. The people under her command during that time must have informed Ogai of a sudden increase in impulsive decisions because before there was time to fix it she had been called to his office. There wasn’t room for objection when he informed (Y/N) of her new position, a reassignment to the Russian wing of the mafia effective immediately. That same night she was on a plane flying two thousand miles away from the only home she’d ever known.

That was four years ago and the most that had been heard from the boss were small orders spread thinly across the months, each one less and less specified until he had eventually stopped communication all together. It had been for the better benefits of both parties, without Ogai constantly looking over her shoulder she was truly able to help the mafia flourish and even go as far as berading the Russian Mafia into equal standing. Without the threat of her abilities looming in his ranks, Mori had taken over a large deal of the weapons smuggling in Japan which in turn had nearly doubled the yearly profits.

“Taking the position would imply that it had been offered, where I am certain it had been ordered. You hadn’t given me the choice to stay or to go before you handed me an executive order and told me to make my way to the headquarters.” Their gazes met from across the table, his eyes as cold as the continuous fall of snow that occured on a daily basis in Russia. Her words seemed to have sparked a memory in his steelin eyes, glossing them over as he recalled what the happenstance for her leave had been.

Russia wasn’t that bad of a place, it was actually quite the opposite once she had managed to sort through the chaos that was the mafia. It had only taken a month to reclaim almost all of the Far East and once that area was under her command, SIberia was quick to follow suit. Though Ural had been a warzone for a year before they managed to snuff out any traces of the Russian Mob, but by defying odds, they managed to come out of it with the lesser amount of casualties. As of now there are attempts to make connections in Volga, though it is slow moving since the mob seemed to know every move that had been planned to make. The northwestern, central, and north regions are still under the unwavering control of the mob: People loyalties didn’t seem to change even as they watched the rise in strength of the Port Mafia.

Southern Russia was a whole different tale for both sides. It was a no man's land filled to the brim with rats. No matter how long they fought with the mob, both sides had come to terms with the liabilities faced with the presence of such insullant people in what had been claimed as their land. Both could kill each other ruthlessly for months, but in the end they’d both agreed that the destruction of Dostoevsky was to come first and foremost: He posed a greater threat even with such slim numbers.

“My apology, it must have slipped my mind at some point since your departure. It was quite a hectic time for us all.” Ogai lowered his gaze, no longer holding that insufferable chill but instead what resembled some sorts of regret. For the seven years (Y/N) had been working under him, she hadn’t seen him hold such a sorrowful look since the Dragon’s Head Conflict. Even then it was more ruth than regret, he hadn’t been sorry for the lives that were lost but for those who survived to hold their memory. Ogai Mori focused on the future and honored those that had paid for it with their lives, he hadn’t time to mourn their passing.

“Hectic is an understatement. It was chaotic.” Her hands fiddled with the fork, a chunk of chocolate cake still sitting soundly on its tip. It had nearly forgotten as they’d moved to a topic she’d tried so desperately to forget. Now it seemed to be the only thing that could capture her attention. “Any word on Dazai? Last time he and I spoke was before Oda’s death and then he was gone.”

“He resurfaced two years ago working under the Armed Detective Agency.” Ogai seemed delighted to change the topic, but he wanted even more to return to why she’d been brought back to Japan. He wouldn’t be as rude as to force the conversation to go back to it but eventually they'd need to delve deeper into the issue they were facing. For now, a sense of normality should be rebuilt to keep everybody in the organization calm.

“Yukichi been giving you a hard time Ogai?” Yukichi Fukuzawa and Mori Ogai had both done a large favor for her shortly after she’d agreed to work under the mafia’s guidance, though the two fought for opposing goals. Her situation had managed to bring them to a mutual point of interest- one that brought reward for both parties involved. If it hadn’t been for their aid then both her and Isaac would likely be far different people than the ones who work so diligently to protect the few things they’d managed to so selfishly cling to for these years. “That old man is as hard headed as ever I assume. It must be difficult for any of you to make any progress in furthering your goals.”

Ogai nodded and with nimble fingers took off his gloves, the white material slipping off digit after digit to reveal the pale skin that seemed to radiate with a grim promise of light. If it wasn’t for the blood that stained them red he would surely be seen as an angel. Usually Mori preferred to keep his gloves on, but in the presence of someone who could now be considered of equal status it was more so a show of distrust. This was his motion to return the conversation to the topic that has been standing still in the room, even if we diverted the people’s ears to something else their minds would still be clouded with the possibility of losing their abilities. A simple gesture that spoke so much if you had the skill that was required to read the motions of other people. She had been taught that skill for longer than I could remember, it had become more of a curse than a blessing.

“Everyone’s been briefed on the bare minimum of the situation we’re facing and I’d like to know if you could add anything to it (Y/N).” Mori had already given as much as he knew of what they are up against and finding more was difficult to say the least. Information brokers had their loyalties but fear outweighed even the motion of getting paid for a job, but that fear gave hints as to who exactly could manufacture a drug like this one.

(Y/N) put the final piece of cake down, it had been on her fork for several minutes and yet she hadn’t found the heart to take the final bite. So many thoughts had found their way into her mind and dug into scorned memories that it made it difficult to even consider stomaching the delicious sweets from Ms.Young’s bakery.

Information was an important detail when it came to dealing with any affair, but finding any regarding this new threat would be more difficult than anyone could have thought. Assumptions made by (Y/n) always had a habit of playing out in one way or another. but with something so dangerous threatening to cut at our numbers, it was important that they worked more on fact than fiction.

“I’ve contacted seven brokers in the past twelve hours, none of them have any news on this drug you’re talking about. If it actually does exist then it’s a miracle you even found out about.” She grabbed the papers she’d brought with her and pushed the near finished plate of cake to the side. Fingers ran along the edges of the sheets filled with useless nonsense that wouldn’t help formulate even the simplest of plans. “Mori I need you to be honest with me, how did you find out about this drug.”

“One of our members got shot during a raid this week.” Her eyes moved up from the paperwork to the elder man sitting by Koyo, Ryuro Hirotsu. The black lizards were skilled members of the Port Mafia so being able to take down one of their members was an accomplishment to say the least. “Whoever manufactured that type of bullet knew what they were doing: She had completely lost her ability within five minutes of it being administered.”

“Where are they now?”

“Gone. Assassinated in her own home last night .” Everyone in the room could practically feel the anger radiating from Tachihara, his fists clenched the edge of the table as he gave his enraged answer. The Mafia was seen as cruel and heartless but even they cared for the lives of their members, their friends. Even people like (Y/N) who hadn’t found a close comrade would still take the time to learn the names and faces of those they would be working with: She herself had taken several hours to do so last night in hopes of knowing the majority of the people who would be attending this meeting.

A deep sigh rasped through her chest, chipping at the calm demeanor she’d managed to hold to since her return. Her head fell back and a loud smack was heard as it came into contact with the wooden back of the chair. Things never seemed to work out in favor of the young executive: You could see as such by the way her (E/C) eyes flickered with such hopeless pain and then returned to their usual gravely glare.

Chuuya watched his new partner with interest, his curiosity from last night now coming to a peak as he learned new bits of information about the woman who he’d only briefly spoken with. It seemed as though she was on good enough terms with Mori but that still didn’t gain his trust: In his line of work, it was important to hold his hand close to his chest as to not allow any scurrilous people to see who he’d become close with. For now he would hold his complaints with an overstrung tongue until she did what he expected from anyone who came close nowadays; Leave him to rot without a second thought as to how much of a pain it would be to fill the void they’d created.

“Have you moved the body?” Her head still remained laxed as she asked the question, addressing it to anyone who had an answer to give. It was as though such simple words had deflated her hopes, jabbing at any resilient confidence that she’d held to throughout the restless night.

“No.” Tachihara was quick to answer with a stern but simple response that left no room for doubt.

“There it is.” (Y/N) leaned forward, (H/L) hair masking her face in a cascading shadow. Her eyes trailed along the table as though she was placing pieces of a puzzle together, each one falling into its designated place as all those sitting around Mori’s table awaited her explanation. Chuuya leaned forward in anticipation to hear what this new comrade was saying. “The first lead.”

Around the table people collected their ideas and made harsh implications as to who exactly this mystery executive was. Out of the dozen people sitting solemnly in the room, only three had any prior knowledge of her and they made the correct decision not to hold a crude attitude towards her. Mori had, of course, known of (Y/N) for the longest time of the three: Having met her when she was only fifteen, several months after he’d taken the place of the former boss. Kouyou had shared little words with her but knew of her abilities to maintain such a high position in the mafia with what seemed to her as little effort. Hirotsu had merely known her name and had been tasked with keeping her under guard until this meeting, though he had ultimately failed, seeing as she managed to slip away only an hour after their first conversation.

(Y/N) pushed her chair away with a loud screech that seemed to push away the silence still filling the room. Her hands made deft work of the paper, their corners aligning in mere seconds as she ran her hands along their sides. The final piece of cake still laid untouched on the plate that now sat abandoned atop the table. Without a second glance, she turned, (E/C) eyes set sharply on the door, feet moving with gentle clicks of her heel; Her motions could be deemed practiced as she so confidently strode away from some of the most heinous criminals in the city. “Do you fear me?”

The room's quizzing thoughts seemed to come to a stop all at once, everyone’s eyes drifting back to the woman who was only inches from the door. Chuuya was prepared to follow her from the room, as they were now partners, but he stayed still with a significant interest in what she was saying. Of course she hadn’t meant to address any of those around the room as they had seen nothing of what abilities she truly possessed; Mori had.

“With your vehement skills I doubt there are many who do not fear for their life in your presence. I’ve been lucky to keep your loyalties under my reign, so I will not make the mistake of giving an answer to this question.” Mori stood, gloved hands folded behind his back in an almost arrogant manor. “I must commend how powerful you are (Y/N). Far beyond what I’d expected when I’d first had the pleasure of meeting you.”

Her laugh was gentle, like the crimson petals of a rose dripping with fresh morning dew in the fields of Elysium. It was a pleasant sound that caught any person’s ear and forced their head to her. “You are far more reserved than many of the people I’ve met in my lifetime, but I quite like that quality. Mori Ogai, may your rule over the mafia be beneficial to this city.”

Without another word, she left.

~ x ~

Chuuya hesitantly looked over to the passenger of his car, his vermillion eyes trapped by her hunched figure. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned over the passing city, lights twinkling in the gloomy darkness of the night. The two hadn’t spoken to one another since (Y/N) had made her departure from the meeting; Their current situation had come about when she’d seen Chuuya leaving and he motioned for her to join him. He’d had a plan to speak with her but the silence that followed his gracious offer had swatted away that idea near instantaneously

This scenario hadn’t gone to either of their likings, Chuuya had wanted to go alone without the burden of another partner weighing him down. Yet when he saw her standing still in the setting light, waiting for something, he had the urge to strike up what would hopefully be another exhilarating conversation. Perhaps that was his desire to know who he’d be working with in these coming days in fear that they would become someone similar to his last partner.

On the other hand, (Y/N) didn’t mind either way if he were to accompany her or not. She’d been standing before the mafia’s headquarters waiting for a car that Mori claimed would pick her up soon, but after ten minutes she’d given up hope and decided instead to join Chuuya. Personally, she’d wished to make her way to the scene as soon as she’d left the meeting, but Mori hadn’t given her the go ahead until the sun began to set. It had been an annoying situation in her opinion but with the added hours of recreational time she’d managed to check-in with the mafioso who’d taken to running the Russian portion of the Port Mafia in her absence. Everything was going according to plan, which would mean that hopefully she’d be flying back to Russia within the week.

A quiet ring fluttered through the stifling silence but neither of them made a move for their phones. Chuuya could see his dark screen, without any sign of contact from his underlings. He knew it had to be her who was receiving a call but never did she move to answer; Instead her eyes, hollow and void, stayed trailed on the passing buildings. Soon those towering works of architecture would turn to natural tree’s of a forest as they neared their destination. After several minutes, the phone’s ring stopped only to start a moment later.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached into her pocket and pulled the phone to where she could see it. Her hands made quick work to silence the ringer but she didn’t ignore the call. Instead she pressed the answer button and brought the device to her ear. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Isaac was quick to the point, annoyance obvious in the way his loud words stabbed through her ear. Chuuya heard mumbled shouts through the line but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. “Dinner’s ready and I’ve yet to even receive a message from you, so I’m going to make the assumption that you haven’t even left the office yet.”

“I’ve left the office.” (Y/N)’s eyed the street as Chuuya made a sharp right turn, it was a clean motion that made it clear he was well acquainted with his car. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in time. Mori has me doing some recon with a new partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Isaac snapped through the phone, she could only imagine the look of anger that had likely appeared on his face from her honest claim. Her plan had been to take her time checking out the scene then be back to town in time for Isaac to take her home, but Mori had put her in a bit of disposition. Instead, it was late and she wouldn’t be back in town for a while. “If I had my ability connected to you then I’d drag you here myself, but I guess this can’t be helped. You better make it up to them though; Disappointing me is a usual occurrence for you but they deserve more than that.”

Chuuya felt a bit bad as he could see the tiredness on her face and he knew that whoever was shouting on the other end of the line wasn’t helping. He watched as she took a deep breath, chest beginning to rise and fall in a pattern. “I’ll find a way. Have a nice night.”

Not long after she’d wish him a nice night did Isaac hang up the phone, two beeps signaling the ending of the phone call. She pocketed the device and leaned into the window once more, heat from her body causing fog to slowly creep along the once clear glass. Chuuya opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask a question, but there was little he could think to say as he watched her dissociate from her surrounding environment. Part of him believed she was naive, joining him in his car without even asking a question and the way she trusted him enough to turn her back to him in such a confined space, but he didn’t see her reflection. Though the latter was far different, her eyes had been glued to his reflection in the window from the moment she’d situated herself in his passenger seat; She waited for the moment he’d make an attempt to do something, anything, but it never came.

“Thank you for the ride.” It had taken a half hour for either of them to brave past the awkwardness inside the car and her tone was quiet as if she didn’t truly want to say them, but Chuuya took the moment to continue on.

“It’s no problem, I’d just finished up some paperwork and thought you could use a ride if we’re going to the same place. We are going to the same place, right?” The sudden realization hit that he hadn’t a clue where she wanted to go and he wanted to be sure that their destination was agreed upon. “The crime scene?”

(Y/N) chuckled at his distressed words, “That would be correct.”

Once again a silence overtook the car, their momentary conversation coming to an end after only a short share of sentences. (Y/N) had taken to her phone, it's screen alight as she scrolled through what seemed to be countless messages. After several minutes of reading she began to click away a very sternly worded message to one of her subordinates. Chuuya went back to driving, his eyes ever so often glancing at his GPS to ensure he was still driving in the right direction.

“You never answered my question.” (Y/N) slammed her phone down on her lap and Chuuya pretended not to notice her obvious anger. Chuuya quirked a brow at her question, head turning to meet her (E/C) eyes in the darkness. She was obviously tired with the way her eyes sunk into her skull and the bags presented them self so sternly. “Did you enjoy the wine?”

“Oh. Yeah, I did. It was quite the bottle, didn’t think I’d be drinking anything that fancy last night.” His face turned sour at an unpleasant memory. “Also didn’t think I’d be drinking as disgusting as the one your friend offered me.”

“In Isaac’s defense, I did ask him for the shittiest bottle he had on the shelf. Apparently it’s the one he gives to people he doesn’t like.” She smiled and turned her phone over when a message made the screen turn on once again. “Might explain why he gave it to me.”

“I thought you two looked close, was my assumption of friends not correct?”

(Y/N) dropped her head, skull smacking against the headrest as she let out a bitter laugh once again. “Isaac and I are a lot more than friends, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t hate him a majority of the time. He’s quite pretentious.”

“You’re different from that woman I met last night; More uptight, scrutinous. That woman who stole my hat wouldn’t have asked a mafia boss if he was scared of her.”

“What can I say, I have many different faces. Same could be said for you Mr.Nakahara.” (Y/N) jabbed at his last name, using a formality that he didn’t truly enjoy. Not many called him by his last name, though it was seen as informal in Japan, and he preferred it that way. “You seem a lot more relaxed than when you were yelling at that young man in the hallway this morning.”

Chuuya’s face fell as he recalled this morning's events: The hangover had only heightened his senses and formed a brutal knot that attacked his head throughout the day. While on his way to the meeting he’d had a run-in with a newer mafioso who had purposely bumped shoulders with Chuuya thinking he was better than the executive himself. That had ended in quite the outburst on the executives half, it had been loud but it got the point across. Disrespect was intolerable in Chuuya’s eyes and the ache in his head had only been nurtured by the yelling he’d done, so of course his anger at the newer member only increased as the day went on. He knew it was wrong but there was little he’d have done differently.

“He was a little punk.” Chuuya grumbled.

They both fell back into a silence, but it no longer rang with an unsaid tension or insatiable curiosity. Instead it seems to flutter with a peaceful wisp of camaraderie as both parties came to a mutual understanding: Neither of them wanted to be partners but until they could find a way out of this arraignment, they might as well do the bare minimum and get along with one another. It would be better not to build any new alliances to the core of the port mafia considering as soon as this was solved, (Y/N) would be flying back to Russia and likely wouldn’t maintain contact with anyone she’d met during her time here.

Finally, after what seemed to span the length of hours, Chuuya made the final turn into a large driveway. Whoever had passed was surely paid well during their time at the mafia. The driveway was circular, encasing a large tree with withered branches that seemed to scratch the star filled sky. Two cars were parked in front of a large house that seemed to hold remnants of classical French architecture, several hints of Japanese style building melded nicely with the classical look. It stood tall, enclosed by shorter surrounding trees, but it was still welcoming; Every part of it held a feeling of home as if someone had spent their whole life building wonderful memories inside the building.

(Y/N) was the first to leave the car, not waiting for any gestures of chivalry from the man who had been kind enough to drive her so far from the city. She’d realized quite a long time ago that people would do the bare minimum to help you but would ask for the world in return. Chuuya was quick to follow her lead, hand working to take the key from the ignition before leaving his car and being sure to lock it. The two walked fairly far from one another, their eyes wandering in case there were any unwarranted guests still lurking in the area.

The steps to the front door were quickly scaled, Chuuya using an unnecessary amount of his ability to propel himself up the half a dozen stone stairs. (Y/N) took the steps in pairs and in a moment was standing beside her newly assigned partner: Her eyes began to wander along his body, gathering every bit of his appearance to her memory- from the choker wrapped snugly around his neck and down to the slight heels of his boots. A light red coated his feet for a moment before eventually dissipating; She was left to assume it was his ability, Gravity Manipulation.

She’d spent her night researching the many new people who’d been taken to working under Mori in her absence; Many of them had dark and depressing tales, but she didn’t judge for her’s wasn’t much better. Instead she took note of which part of their past might have pushed them to be considered a vain and villainous member of the Port Mafia: Motives often told if someone would inevitably betray you. Yet the most elusive of them all seemed to be her partner himself, even if he were an executive she should still have had access to any documentation of his early life. Nothing. No mention of a family, no close friends, no reason to live a life like this.

All she got from an hour of scouring documents was his ability, an address, and several mission reports that when looked at through her perspective made little to no sense. Perhaps if she had been closer with Dazai around that time frame then some parts of it would have made more sense: King of Sheep, Arahabaki, Rando. Her only connections to Dazai during those few years were their shared title of executive, several miniature missions during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, and Oda. None of it had made for long, friendly conversations; She was much like him in some ways, never attending the meetings where she might have met Chuuya, but unlike him she never was one to take to a partner or a trainee. Another person would only get in her way.

She was a shadow, faceless to all but those closest to her, feared by those who knew of her power: Mori made sure that her true identity remained furtive. One thing every person opposing the Mafia knew was that trust was never an option, it would only take a single wrong assumption before they’d be stabbed in the back by what was thought to be their friend. Once the Dragon’s Head Conflict had come to an end anybody who knew of her true identity had gone missing under what is still considered ‘Mysterious Circumstances’, of course there were several who still knew what she was capable of but those were the people that there was no need to kill: They were either an ally or to far in her past to matter during that time.

Lost in thought, she was only returned when Chuuya attempted to open the door, soon to realize that it remained locked, a disappointed groan rasped through his chest. He had thought that whoever had been here last might’ve had the common sense to leave it unlocked for when the next investigators were to arrive. The house didn’t officially have an address so supposedly the only people who knew of it were those in the mafia; Well now that list would also include whoever had taken her life. Perhaps it was best that they didn’t have a way into the building, it was very late and (Y/N) seemed to be tiring rather quickly. Chuuya was in a similar stance, his vermilion eyes sunken with the pain of an unending headache.

“Well this is a major bust.” Chuuya made a turn and began to make his way back to his car, its black nearly hiding it in the darkness of the night. After a moment he realized that the presence beside him was missing as (Y/N) still stood rooted to her spot before the large doors. The two waited in silence, Chuuya’s eyes on her and her eye’s on the door blocking her from completing the job.

(Y/N) reeled her leg back, jumpsuit clutching to every inch of her body except for her hands and face- (S/C) fingers balled into fists as she prepared for the incoming impact to the door, face rigid with seriousness but still being just as beautiful as it had been gleaming in the bar light. She was the definition of perfect with a body handcrafted by whatever god pulled the strings of life, it was strange to see how all her little imperfections came together to make something so stunning. Chuuya hadn’t time to admire any of that, instead his focus remained on the fact that she had only the need for a single kick to take the doors down. Their hinges creaked under the force before the doors well flat to the ground with a loud thud.

“No need for a door if she’s dead.” Her words would come off as heartless to anyone, but Chuuya understood what she meant by it. To the latter it was merely her way of saying that they’d come this far and without anyone living inside the building there wasn’t much of a need for a door anymore. Perhaps he should have been angry with the way that she’d worded it, so cruel to a fallen friend of his, but there wasn’t a need to strike an argument over something so trivial. He understood well enough that people in this line of work weren’t ones to usually feel remorse at the loss of a life.

She was first to enter the house, not waiting for her partner to say anything more as she set out to find the truth as to what exactly was the reason behind her return. Mori had given her little information and no broker in the city seemed to know anything so the last hope was dissecting the body of their fallen comrade. Of course she felt forlorn, she hadn’t known this woman but yet was asking her to sacrifice her body for the sake of others. (Y/N) had killed, there was no denying that, but even after all the lives she’d taken, she still wasn’t numb.

Numbness would only succumb when the light of her own eyes dwindled from its constant flicker to a mere ashy stare. Hundreds have died at her hand and she felt little remorse, but every person was like a scar- digging their scared nails across her skin as she killed without mercy. The first scratch always hurts the worst but with every new person falling to their knees before her, the pain slowly begins to fade; But it was still there, in the very depths of her mind. After so many years she might as well just be considered numb; Her dither long since gone and any guilt for the torutre she’d put people through had slowly leaked from her mind as if it were an open drain. Their lives meant little to her, only stepping stools to allow her to climb to her status at the top.

The house was dark, itching with a silence that crept along the corners in fear of being smothered by rattling steps. Chuuya noticed the uneasy air as he walked mere steps behind (Y/N), it was as though the silence itself had taken a conscious form and was preparing to strangle them in a single moment. Their steps mixed to one in a dance of paired solitude and both their breaths seemed to do the same: In seperate bodies they became one to make the sounds of their presence near indistinguishable. In that moment their minor disagreements had faded and they became a team made in heaven but fallen to the hellish life of the mafia. If anyone were to still be in that house then their life would likely soon be ended.

(Y/N) was the first to come to the end of the hall, her steps coming to a halt in a matter of seconds as she scanned the large open area. The hall they passed through had only been twenty paces through the door, meaning that whoever had broken in to commit the crime had either been very quiet or came in via a different route. They had passed several doors along their way but nothing inside them had caught her attention; An office in pristine shape with papers stacked high atop its glimmering wooden surface, a closet only half full of shoes and clothing that likely belonged to a mixture of genders, and a bathroom with a set of standard mission clothes laying on its tile floor. In her mind (Y/N) could see what had happened that night: She had entered her home and quickly stripped from her blood soaked clothing, as for the rest she would likely find more the further she explored the house.

Whoever this woman had been, she had quite the taste in architecture. The hall led into an area that seemed to act as a living room of sorts, a couch and television situated by a large wall of windows. On the other side of the glass was a large garden with paths leading further into the depths of its secrets. To the left was a floating staircase that led to the second story and to the right was a kitchen, only separated from the living room by a marble island.

“I’ll search upstairs and you can take it down here.” Chuuya pushed by (Y/N) as he spoke, his voice low enough so that only she could hear. He doubted that anyone was still in the house, even if there were then they likely knew of their presence, but being cautious in these times would not only keep himself safe but his partner as well. “If you need help then don’t be afraid to call.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he climbed the stairs and disappeared into the depths of the darkness. Standing alone in the center of the house made her surroundings feel so much larger, the space behind her was no longer radiated with warmth. Upstairs she could hear the creak of the floorboards as Chuuya walked down the halls, (Y/N) focused her sights on the kitchen and slowly crept over. Her hand ran along the smooth white walls and finally, upon stepping foot on the kitchen tiles, she felt the light panel beneath her fingers.

She flipped the switch and the light hanging from the ceiling lit the room with a brightness that not even the moon could provide at this hour. Without the darkness lingering through the air (Y/N) was finally able to properly see the area around her. It was sparkling and clean, pristine as though it had been cleaned thoroughly the day before. No blood, no body, and certainly no danger. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

(Y/N) could see the splatter of blood drenching the cushions of the light gray sofa, the red looked almost black from so far away but she knew the truth behind it. When blood is dried then it darkens and the stain is likely to never be clean from the surface. The woman had rid herself of her blood stained clothes and used a towel to wash away the visible streaks on her skin (It was impossible to erase the ones along her soul) and had rested upon the couch to recuperate from such a burdensome mission; Then she had been killed. Mori had said the body would be covered with a sheet in preparation of dissection, but yet there was no sheet in sight.

Someone had been here long before their arrival, and that person was no friend of the mafia. Whoever had come here and disturbed the scene had taken the body as to prevent any information from being extracted: With the blood having been left out for so long there was likely little remaining information to be collected from it. The body was gone and so were any of the leads that had been left with it. The only hope they had now was if those that had discovered the body before them had been wise enough to at least collect some samples of their DNA.

(Y/N) sighed and left the kitchen, light still fluttering throughout the bottom most floor of the house. Her feet clicked gently against the wooden floors as she slowly walked towards the blood stained couch. The blood clashed violently with the white cushions and it was obvious that her death had been the cause of blood loss, one large pool and several surrounding droplets proposed the idea of a knife wound rather than a gunshot.

She turned away from the stain in an almost defensive manner and scanned the rest of the area, eyes clawing through the darkness searching for something that wasn’t quite there. “Did you find anything down here?”

“Missing body. Cause of death likely a knife wound.” Chuuya jumped down the last two steps and stalked towards her, hands in his pocket. He walked past her and to the couch, his hand trailing along the top of the cushion and down to the stain.

“You figured all of that out from a couple of blood stains?” He nearly chuckled at the confidence that laced itself through her analyses.

“If it were poison there wouldn’t have been a blood stain. Gunshot wounds would be more splattered and less centered around a focal point. Whether it be a stab or a slice across the neck, a knife would cause the blood to drip to a specific point. It’s simple enough logic.” (Y/N) wasn’t paying attention to Chuuya as she spoke, her explanation dripping methodically from her mouth as her (E/C) eyes locked onto something.

The back doors gleamed with reflections of the kitchen's light, but through that bright light were shadows. Dark and dripping with mystery they encased the gazebo in an unnatural darkness. Chuuya continued to talk about what they were to do now, but his words fell on deaf ears as (Y/N)’s hand reached for the door handle. With one hard pull the door slid to the side and made an opening more than large enough for her to pass through. It seemed as though Chuuya hadn’t noticed as he continued to look around the lower floor to look at the stains on the couch.

With little hesitation, (Y/N) left the warmth of the house's walls and stepped into the cold breeze of the autumn outdoors. Her shoes had a different click as they went from the hardwood floor to a pathway of large rocks. The backyard was large and spiraled with countless flowers that danced in the moonlight, hundreds of bushes that still seemed to bloom even in the coming winter. Rows of Lilacs scatter around, their purple clashing violently with the numerous roses bushes scatter about, the red petals dancing with the color of blood and making (Y/N) cringe. They were such beautiful flowers, but they lulled people in with their beauty and then painted their petals red with their victims blood.

The closer she stepped to the gazebo, the more she noticed the shadows retreating as her eyes adjusted to the environment. Finally she was able to see what she had actually caught sight of from the house.

A head, severed from its body laid in a small pool of dried blood, far less than there should have been. It was clear that the head was from the victim, her long hair was matted with blood and the area where her neck met the concrete had gnarled skin and cuts that had scabbed with dried blood. Her eyes were open, glossed over as though she were still alive and trapped in a trance. Her mouth was slightly agape, trails of blood running from the corners of her mouth and down her face.

#bungou sd #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs kouyou #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #chuuuya #chuuya nakahara #tw alchohol mention #violence #blood #gore #xreader #reader insert #bsdxreader #mori ougai #port mafia #chuuya x reader #chuuyaxreader #chuuya nakahara x reader

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ootori-sibs · 4 years

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Winter lodge host club 7:2

Tw: blood, gore, death

Tamaki was standing outside, talking to some of the guests about nothing in particular, he enjoyed moments like this, entertaining girls and playing into the perfectly, princely persona was such a lovely way to spend the day. He wasn’t really trying too hard, but it came quite naturally to him, he found it relaxing even. He gazed around lazily, spotting Mori speed walking towards him. He grabs Tamaki by the arm, and he suddenly feels nervous, looking at Mori in confusion. Mori speaks and Tamaki is shocked to hear how shaky his voice was, “Tamaki…” he looked into Mori’s eyes and realised there were tears there. He instantly felt scared, what could possess Mori to cry?? Where was Haruhi..?

"What's wrong Mori?"

Mori didn't answer, he just dragged Tamaki over towards the forest. Tamaki had no choice but to follow, and Mori let go of his arm once he was sure the king was talking beside him. He was certainly worried at the pace Mori was walking- he'd never seen the guy so worried, so upset. It was definitely scary. He knew it was probably nothing but Tamaki couldn't help but worry about Haruhi, why didn't she go back with him- and for that matter; where was Kyoya in all this? He'd been left at the lodge with one of the girls, if something was happening then surely it was Kyoya in the most danger. Maybe that's why Haruhi stayed behind, he hoped someone was keeping an eye on Kyoya at least.

They got to the lodge and the door was wide open, Tamaki felt a chill go down his spine: why had the door been left open? What was so worrying that Mori didn't even think to close the door? He didn't get any answers to this question, as Mori began to drag him upstairs, his fear and grief surprisingly clear. It was terrifying to see such a stoic man so emotional, Tamaki couldn't help but fail to imagine the kind of horrors that would cause this kind of reaction in Mori.

But Mori was leading Tamaki to the king's own room, and Tamaki's heart sank- what if Kyoya was hurt? He was surprised when Mori stopped dragging him outside it, silently looking at him, "prepare yourself," he then entered the room, leaving Tamaki standing outside.

Tamaki was slightly lost, he wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do, did Mori want him to follow? He hoped so, because he quickly stepped forward, looking inside the room and freezing.

Blood, all over the floor, the corpse of the guest towards the back of the room, but that wasn't even a footnote in the scene; Haruhi lay there, in half on the floor, her clothes torn and bloodied, but still on her corpse. Tamaki felt sick, he felt faint, he couldn't breathe… but that wasn't the thing that drew his eyes in most- it was the beast. The creature lay unconscious, tears dampening the fur around its eyes as blood dampened the blood on its muzzle, blood that could only belong to Haruhi. Tamaki glanced at Mori, feeling tears sting his eyes, he didn't know what he was feeling, it was all so numb…

"Your boyfriend killed Haruhi," Mori started, gesturing to the knocked out beast, "so I hit him."

...boyfriend?

Oh.

The beast was his boyfriend, the beast was Kyoya. It took Tamaki a few moments to process this fact; the fact that Kyoya lied to him, the fact that Kyoya must have killed those girls, the fact that Kyoya must have killed Shin, the fact that Haruhi was laying there dead- all because of Kyoya, all because of Tamaki's own boyfriend. The love of his life was a monster… Tamaki didn't know what to think about that.

These murders, these deaths needed preventing, but Tamaki would never hurt Kyoya, not in a million years… not even for Haruhi. At the end of the day, Kyoya was more important to him than anyone else here, and he had to admit that he felt a spark of rage when Mori had told him how he'd knocked poor Kyoya out.

"We need to muzzle him, I think we can use one of Antoinette's collars." He grabbed some of Antoinette's spare gear, quickly fashioning a makeshift muzzle for his boyfriend- he felt a little guilty at treating Kyoya like an animal but he had done bad things, and would likely do it again if not stopped. "Can you help me get him in the basement?"

Mori nodded, expression going back to one that was unreadable as Tamaki grabbed yet another leash, picking the beast- picking Kyoya up and dragging him out of the room. It was quite difficult to get him to the basement, especially when it came to the stairs, but eventually they did manage it, Mori began to leash Kyoya's new muzzle to the bars on the window as Tamaki was surprised to find Nekozawa and… the dead girls?

"Ah, good afternoon Souh-san, having trouble with your pet?" He seemed perfectly casual talking about Kyoya, for some reason assuming that he was Tamaki's pet… though he supposed a man-eating boyfriend wasn't far off, this did explain his rivalry with Antoinette.

"Kyoya isn't my pet, Nekozawa. Why are those girls still alive??" Tamaki had to ask, he was terribly worried, he couldn't have girls down here where Kyoya might hurt them.

Nekozawa seemed confused at that, "oh, Ootori was the beast? Huh… well that explains a lot," he chuckles, "so did Ootori not tell you I was bringing the girls back to life? All I need is a bone."

Tamaki's every problem was just solved, he wasn't even concerned at how Nekozawa had snuck in, he turned around to speak to Mori, only to see that the man had already vanished, it seemed he definitely got the memo huh. Tamaki's fear and grief turned to pride and mirth as he realised that Kyoya was always one step ahead, of course he was eating guests, his actions had little to no consequences. His only real kill had been Shin, but Tamaki was more then ready to let that one slide, Shin had been an asshole to Kyoya anyway.

Tamaki was always a quick thinker, and he smiled, holding his hand out to Nekozawa, "would you be interested in doing that everytime Kyoya does that?" To his surprise, Nekozawa readily took his hand, shaking it willingly.

"Anything for you Souh-san, I'm more then happy to get an excuse to practice my craft, I can even remove their memories of you'd like."

"Oh that would be perfect." He glanced at the two girls, who had both fainted. Well that was unfortunate, but at least no one had actually gotten hurt, the king would just wait for his heartbeat to catch up with him.

He heard Antoinette barking, then Honey's voice from upstairs, telling her to hush. Uh oh, it seemed the others were home.

#death #blood #gore #haruhi fujioka #kyoya ootori #tamaki souh #ouran high school host club #tamakyo #takashi morinozuka #umehito nekozawa

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satansliteraryhero · 4 years

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The First Female Host - Ouran High School Host Club

Summary:

After transferring to Ouran Academy, your first day ends with you joining the host club as their first official female host.

Fandom:

Ouran High School Host Club

Pairing:

(Light) Tamaki x Reader

WARNINGS:

MENTIONS OF ANXIETY, LIGHT SWEARING

Words:

2,276

A/N:

I’m not sure if this will turn into a series or not. Also, Haruhi does not exist in this universe. Hope you all enjoy! :)

The sound of your heels clicked against the smooth marble flooring of Ouran Academy. You had just transferred as a first-year. So here you were, walking down the halls in search of your first class of the day, Class 1-A.

As you walked you could clearly hear all of the other girls talking about you, whispering and gossiping into the ears of anyone who would listen. While most would crumble due to the anxiety of their peering eyes, you quite enjoyed the attention and kept walking with your head held high, besides, there is no such thing as bad press.

Your family appeared to be ‘mysterious’ to most. Despite your high ranking in the world, you made sure to stay out of the news, more specifically, most of the world was unaware you even existed. Your father descended from royals, but he didn’t let that define him or his family. You could have easily shown up today in a limo, or carriage, or even a helicopter, wearing the most expensive pieces of jewelry you owned, flaunting your wealth and making even some of the richest kids at this school feel like disgusting and worthless street rats, but you didn’t. You didn’t care for all that stuff, you just wanted to attend the school like a normal kid, make friends like a normal kid, and have fun like a normal kid.

You finally reached the door to Class 1-A. You had worn the girls school uniform today with a side bag for your books. So, with two strands of your Y/H/C hair tied back with a simple white ribbon, you opened the door and stepped inside.

As soon as you stepped inside, all eyes were immediately on you. No, it wasn’t because you were late. And no, it wasn’t because you were hideous, in fact, you were very beautiful, having a pure beauty to yourself that you knew others envied, but even then that’s not why people stared at you. It was because you were new. To them, you were a mysterious piece of fresh meat, but I suppose, fresh meat is better than being seen as a spoiled brat.

You quickly scanned the room in search of where to sit. Most of the seats were taken except two, one next to a pair of wildly identical twins, or next to a scary-looking girl that looked like she would break every single bone in your royal body... you quickly made your way over to the twins. You placed your bag on your chair, making sure to take out the books you needed to start the lesson.

You turn and smile to the twins before speaking, “Hello, my name is Y/N! I just transferred here. What are your guys’ names?”

They looked at each other, seeming to give one another a silent approval to answer the question, they both turned towards you, “I’m Kaoru,” the one closet one to you says.

“And I’m Hikaru,” the one to his right says.

They both begin speaking simultaneously, “We’re the Hitachiin twins! It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N!”

You smiled kindly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both as well.”

You realized quickly that your conversation had ended at you turned back to the board. Hitachiin, you recognized the last name. Their mother, Yuzuha Hitachiin, was a well-known fashion designer. Although you had never worn one of her pieces, you admired her work. The teacher walked into the class, your attention snapping to him as he began class.

The school day finished quicker than you anticipated and you realized that you have yet to make any real friends, besides the Hitachiin twins, but they don’t count since you’re barely their acquaintance. You walk around the school in an attempt to find a quiet place to read. Reading has always been something you loved, ever since you were a child, of course back then your mother would have to read to you, but you still enjoyed every second of it.

After walking for what felt like days, you reached a quiet hallway, spotting a room labeled Music Room 3. You pressed your ear against the door, checking for any practicing musicians. You didn’t hear any instruments so after taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

The aroma of rose petals filled your senses as you let your Y/E/C eyes get accustomed to the bright light. You blinked a few times before looking back up, shocked to spot six boys staring at you. You were even more shocked to spot Kaoru and Hikaru among them, they even appeared to be a little surprised themselves at seeing you there.

Before you were able to greet them, an attractive blonde boy with deep violet eyes spoke up with a velvety voice, “Ah, a new guest! Welcome, Princess, my name is Tamaki, the King around here. The Ouran Host Club welcomes you!”

He had moved forward while talking so he now stood right in front of you, he grabbed your hand and before you had time to question his forwardness (and gross use of the pet name ‘Princess’), he pulled you into his chest, “Now tell me, which one of us do you find the most attractive?”

He stared into your eyes before twirling you around so your back was now pressing into his chest, giving you a view of the others. At first, you spotted the twins, they seemed to be avoiding your gaze and you being too embarrassed to smile, you looked at the rest of the boys. It immediately caught onto you that each of them seemed to have a sort of stereotypical character trait that made them stand out. You assumed Kaoru and Hikaru were known for being identical twins (obviously). You looked at the boy standing next to them, he was big and scary looking, but on his shoulders sat a smaller boy holding a stuffed pink bunny rabbit who looked like a harmless little kid. Aha! The opposite duo, the innocent child, and the intimidating yet gentle beast. You then brought your gaze to the boy on their left. He had gentle yet firm eyes and on his face he was sporting a pair of glasses, so he was probably the brainiac. And the jackass blonde behind you who manhandled you is the obviously the leader of the group, or in another term, the king. But why have a bunch of different attractive characters? Then it clicked, Ouran Host Club!

Time to have a little fun with these boys. You turned around, placing your hands on Tamaki’s chest and making sure to appear as though you were blushing and shy, keeping your voice high pitched you said, “Well gosh! I’m not sure! It’s so hard to decide... C-can I be honest?”

He leaned in, resting his hands around your waist and lower back. Even though you knew he was just trying to seduce you, you couldn’t help the chills that rand down your spine and the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

You quickly recovered, looking into his eyes through your long and delicate eyelashes, “None of you.”

You aggressively pushed him off you, making him stumble a little.

You faced all the boys and smirked, “I know what operation you’re running here, and let me tell you, your little tactics aren’t going to work on me.”

Tamaki brushed off his uniform jacket before looking at you and calmly asking, “Tell us then, what operation are we running here?”

“You’re a host club, entertainers, a brothel of sorts.”

All the boys gasped, Tamaki seeming to look the most hurt, “Brothel?! We’re not a brothel! We’re hosts, are job is to make women happy!”

I rolled my eyes, “Right, anyway, I’m assuming you’re somehow profiting off this service of yours, so that’s even more shallow.”

You turn around, facing the blonde boy, “And you,” you point a finger at him with a stern look on your face, “I know the likes of you. All charm yet they’re all full of lies. Boys like you, ones that are narcissistic and egocentric, are more hideous than any beast.”

He gasped, and you knew you got under his skin. You now stood right in front of him, feeling the eyes of the boys on you, “Because boys like you are rotting on the inside, which automatically makes you disgusting and vile looking all around, no matter how,” you look him up and down, clearly checking him out, “appealing you are to the eyes.”

As you stepped back, you saw that Tamaki was blushing and you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or from you checking him out.

He began to stutter but you turned back towards the boys, “I hope you all know that there’s more to life than just being a stereotype.”

You turn towards the door, ready to leave when you hear one of the boys call out, “Wait!”

With an eye roll, you stop and spin on your heels, raising a questioning eyebrow.

The one with the glasses spoke up, “What do you mean by, ‘stereotype’?”

“I mean, every boy in this room is a different stereotype, a different character if you will. Hikaru and Kaoru are the wildly identical twins, these two are the gentle giant and childish little boy duo, you are the kind brainiac, and Tamaki is the king, correct?”

The boy with glasses raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise, signaling that indeed you were correct.

Tamaki spoke up, “Wait a minute! I told you my name, but I never told you Hikaru and Kaoru’s. How do you know them?”

“I wouldn’t say I really know them, we just introduced ourselves in the class we share.”

Tamaki looked to the twins for confirmation, they both nodded before speaking, “It’s true, this is Y/N, she’s a first year. We share Class 1-A.”

Tamaki pursed his lips, “Y/N, huh? That’s a lovely name. Tell me, are you the new student that just transferred here?”

You look Tamaki in the eyes before speaking, “Yes, I am.”

The childish blonde boy spoke up this time, “My name is Mitsukuni Haninozuka, but you can call me Honey Senpai! This here is Takashi Morinozuka! And you can call him Mori Senpai!”

Ahhh, the Haninozuka’s and the Morinozuka’s, amazing fighters. Their family’s had a lot of history together, and history with your own family as well. Your great grandfather and both Honey Senpai and Mori Senpai’s grandfathers were good friends, and to this day your families were still friends. Although, this was the first time you had ever seen them in person.

Honey pointed to the boy with the glasses, “This is Kyoya Ootori, also known as Kyoya Senpai! And him over there,” he pointed to Tamaki, “That’s Tamaki Suoh, Tamaki Senpai! He’s our king!”

Ootori, his father owned The Ootori Group, a large and successful medical facility. And Suoh, his father was the chairman, your father had spoken to him about you transferring here.

The twins stepped forward, “And you already know us, Y/N.”

You gave a nod and a smile, “Indeed I do.”

You heard Tamoki grumble but ignored him as Kyoya spoke up, “Say, Y/N, what’s your last name?”

Your eyes involuntarily widened. If you told them your last name, no matter how much your parents shielded you from the news and public, they’d still be able to find out who you were. Did it matter to you if they knew? I mean, the school will found out eventually, right?

You looked him in the eyes, forcing your voice to come out steady, “Y/L/N. My name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

Kyoya’s eyes widened a little and you knew that he recognized you. You had to admit, he was smart.

Tamaki spoke up, “Y/L/N? Where have I heard that before?”

“Yeah,” Honey agreed, “The last name seems very familiar to me!”

Kyoya answered their questions, “Her father owns Y/L/N Jewelers, a jewelry company known worldwide for their intricate, handcrafted creations. Plus, her father is of royal blood.”

All the boys’ mouths were agape except for Mori and Kyoya.

“So, you’re like, very rich?” Tamaki asked in a weak voice.

You giggled at his drama, “Yes, I’m very rich. But you see, I don’t go around flaunting my money or power, in fact, I’d rather nobody else knew my real identity. So if you could keep that secret, that would be great.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Hikaru spoke up, “You know that you’re the most powerful and wealthiest one at this school and your choosing not to say anything?! Do you realize how popular you could be?! Girls will envy you, boys will want to be with you! You’re just going to throw that all away?!”

You pretended to think about it for a second, “Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, I should get going, see you guys!”

“Hold it!” Tamaki shouted, “Let’s say, we don’t want to keep your secret? What if we want to tell the whole school?”

“I mean, although I’d prefer you not to, I can’t stop you. Well, technically I can, but I won’t.”

Honey spoke, “So you’re not going to tell people but you won’t stop us if we want to?”

I smiled and nodded, “Correct, Honey Senpai.”

“You’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met,” Kaoru said.

“Y/N,” Kyoya caught your attention, “How would you feel about being our first female host?”

Tamaki’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor and your eyes widened in surprise at his offer, “Oh, well, I’m not sure, you guys seem to have your own little thing going on and I don’t want to intrude and-“

“Please, you wouldn’t be intruding. I can see you have lots of potential, You’re pretty, I can see you have fire in you, and you figured out our character’s quicker than anyone we’ve ever seen.”

You brushed off his compliment and thought about his offer. Be a host? But don’t they entertain girls? Although you don’t really care, don’t they already do that on their own?

“I wouldn’t be bringing you any business, I’m sure there aren’t many girls who would be interested.”

Kyoya shook his head, “You wouldn’t host to girls, Y/N, you’d host to boys.”

“Oh.”

Hosting to boys? That could be interesting.

“So what do you say?”

“Um, sure, I guess. It could actually be pretty fu-“

“Hold it right there!” Tamaki cried, “She can’t just join our club! Not without getting the approval of daddy!”

The other boys looked at Tamaki with an irritated glare. You tried not to laugh at the fact that he just referred to himself as ‘daddy’.

He laughed nervously, “And without the approval of the other hosts too.”

You turned to him with a bored expression, “Okay. How do I get your ‘approval’, oh wise king!”

His face lit up at my use of his title but quickly fell when he realized I was being sarcastic, “You’ll have to show us that you can actually host, you’ll have to woo one of us. And then we’ll vote if you can join, majority rules. Deal?”

He stuck out his hand for me to shake. I couldn’t help but feel as though I was making a deal with the devil. Wasn’t Lucifer said to be devilishly handsome as well?

I shook his hand, smirking, “Deal.”

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linklethehistorian · 4 years

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Randou and the Sins of Season 3's Fifteen Adaption (Part 25/???)

Bones' Biggest Changes & Greatest Failures — The Tragedy of Arthur Rimbaud (4/?)

Just for starters, consider this — if there is one thing that everyone knows about Mori in terms of how he likes to conduct his business, it’s that he is a highly intelligent and capable strategist who clearly prides himself on using all of his men and his assets in the most efficient and cost-effective manner possible, planning very far ahead for every possible outcome he can imagine; that being the case, why on Earth would he even bother to use some conventional form of shackles knowing fully well that Chuuya could very easily break from any normal restraints, especially when Randou’s ability alone — the only thing that would be able to overcome not just the boy’s gift, but also his overall physical strength — would be more than enough to do the trick? Yes, you could say that he wanted something there as assurance that he wouldn’t escape even after he sent the hyperspace owner out of the room, but in that scenario, why not just have Dazai take over with his ability, keeping a hand on him to ensure the redhead’s gravity stayed nullified? I’m not denying that there may have been some unforeseen reason as to why Asagiri chose to write this scene the way he did in his book, but if I — an avid lover and defender of that version of Fifteen — cannot quite see it, I guarantee you that the average person watching the anime version is not going to, either, and you absolutely cannot convince me nor surely anyone else that Mori was stupid enough to believe that those chains would be able to hold Chuuya for even a second without Randou or Dazai there actively suppressing his ability. Besides, he already had plenty of power to keep the teen in line should he do anything rash without the need for further physical containment, just by having captured a few members of Sheep to hold for ransom.

The only thing that maintaining the old approach would do for the usurper boss is make him look even more excessively evil, and — as I’ve discussed in my previous article on Fifteen’s potential inclusion into Season 3, and soon will go over again in later parts of this section — that is absolutely not something the anime needs more of, much less its viewers, and least of all in this particular season. It leaves a far better taste in one’s mouth to have Mori genuinely treating Chuuya like an honored guest rather than a feared and dangerous beast needing containment, and that is a very important thing to achieve at this point in the animated series.

Furthermore, in regards to how it effects Rimbaud, without the careful nuance that only an unrestricted, written text-based medium like a light novel can easily provide, visually suggesting that he would ever stand by and tolerate the young man being physically chained up in some pointlessly cruel manner by placing him there in the middle of such a situation only gives the audience the very wrong impression that he condones these actions as morally acceptable and is just like everyone else in the organization when in fact it is the opposite. Indeed, for that reason, it far better conveys and remains true to his actually quite gentle and considerate nature to have him instead directly restrain Chuuya with his own non-traumatic and light-filled ability in the animated adaption — something which, once more, I’m very surprised they managed to accomplish, considering their decision to later just turn around and demonize and mutilate him for their own benefit, but then again, I doubt this was done for his sake anyway.

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siberlius-moving · 5 years

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i know i said no essay bUT HERE’S A LONG ONE

- spoilers for beast au ahead -

BEAST: On being human and alive

What does it mean to be human? What does it mean to be living?

The characters here refer to Beast AU’s characters, but I will specify when I am referring to the main universe’s respective characters.

Dazai and Akutagawa: what is a beast? who is the beast?

Dazai in the Beast AU, having glimpsed into the alternate universes, had concocted an elaborate plan to ‘save’ an universe where Odasaku got to write his novel. I would like to think, that this Dazai saw the lives of other Dazais who had left the Port Mafia and lived a purposeful life where he could genuinely be a good person and help others, surrounded by people he cares about and who also genuinely care for him (thus, in spite of all the suicide jokes, Dazai in main universe is actually clinging onto life pretty tightly). But Dazai in the Port Mafia was still a person who hadn’t learnt to appreciate human life as being something more than the act of moving and breathing. As smart as he was, he hadn’t had the maturity to understand empathy, sympathy, and the value of having connection with others. Main universe’s Dazai, in fact, is still learning to do so. He has a long way to go, but you realise that it is his connections with people like Oda, Atsushi and the ADA that give him purpose to live another day, and help him be so much more successful in pulling off his schemes since people actually trust and open up to him. You can argue that he would still have been successful being his old Port Mafia self, except with a lot more deaths and violence. But, he would have lived a very short life. Which, was what happened in the Beast AU.

Beast AU’s Dazai, latching onto the regret of main universe’s Dazai, and encouraged by his own lack of will to live in his present life, decided that this universe didn’t matter (since he technically had already ‘lived’ in other timelines) and set on a path to help Oda finish writing a novel. It is incredibly selfish, because for everyone else, this was the only life they ever had, would ever lived. By the end of the book, Dazai realised this. He got called out by Oda for it. In their one and only meeting, Oda noted that Dazai was almost childlike in the way he tried to recreate a friendship that never existed. When Oda told Dazai that they were not friends and that he would do everything in his power to get Akutagawa back, Dazai understood. At the last stage of his grand plan, where he was to die, it had seemed like he got what he wanted - Oda had his book written and had led a nice life after all. But was it really what Dazai wanted? Was he not just slave to the main universe’s Dazai’s wishes?

Akutagawa in Beast AU isn’t very much different from Akutagawa in the main universe, at least until Dazai came about and changed everything. Dazai in the Beast AU, had become the Port Mafia boss at a really young age. All the immaturity and issues mentioned above get ramped up here. He controlled the port mafia with an iron fist. I would think it was harder for him, because at least for Mori, he had years to build his way up. The rumours that Dazai killed Mori to usurp his position made it harder for Dazai to consolidate his power. He knew that he needed multiple figures of fear to rule. In the main universe, Dazai was an executive who didn’t know the existence of Atsushi. Akutagawa was the only one he could mould into a similar role he was looking for. Thus, Beast AU’s Dazai went to Akutagawa first.

But in the main universe, Dazai realised too late that Akutagawa was too 'wild’. He was a blunt kind of mass weapon of destruction, too much of a wild card. In any case, Dazai was just an executive then, and Akutagawa served his purpose most of the time, and Mori had a good range of competent supporters he could use. Chuuya actually respected and was extremely loyal to Mori. In the Beast AU, Dazai didn’t have that kind of support. But he needed one, controllable weapon from the shin soukoku for his future plans. He tested Akutagawa by letting him kill all the gang members (in the main universe, Dazai had them killed as a ‘gift’ to Akutagawa to entice him to join Port Mafia). Akutagawa killed them extremely brutally, almost animalistically. Too wild for Dazai’s needs. That was okay, because Atsushi was perfect, and Dazai knew of Atsushi’s existence. Atsushi had a moral compass and knew right from wrong. He was only uncontrollable when influenced by his ability and he turned into a tiger, but this can be managed by a brutal spiked choker around his neck. His conscience, along with his fragile mentality, allowed Dazai to perfectly control his actions by using said conscience against Atsushi, without the unpredictable risks that Akutagawa posed.

Here’s the important thing: Dazai thought that Akutagawa was a ‘beast’. A beast is a thing controlled by its nature. It cannot be controlled by anything else besides a severe master. It is dangerous, it is wild, it is irrational, but it is innocent. After all, it is only doing what its instincts call for it to do. How can one be guilty, when it does not know what it is doing is wrong? If it is evil, then all it knows is evil deeds. Nothing one does can change it. After all, Akutagawa was inclined towards destruction, and he was talented in it. He tends towards irrational destruction with utter disregard for his or others’ lives. Gin was injured while saving Akutagawa during the massacre, and he abandoned her for mindless, hopeless revenge. This fact was used against Akutagawa - Dazai rejected him over it and took Gin away. Dazai told Gin that Akutagawa had abandoned her for violence and would abandon her again because when it came down to it, he was a destructive beast who cannot ignore his nature and he cannot love the way normal humans do. Akutagawa proved Dazai’s point when he attacked Atsushi for calling him out on this, even though Atsushi was leading him to Gin. Gin, out of resentment and love, left Akutagawa so that Akutagawa could live on, like he was a wolf that belonged to the forest.

But Dazai was wrong. Akutagawa had lived in environments that had shaped him to be extremely reactive, violent and constantly on survival mode. He would react to threats with immediate violence. But that did not make him inherently a beast. Even he had nothing, he acted as a protector for the children, and led them as much as he could. After Oda found him, offered him food and shelter and gave him a chance to live a life beyond constant survival, he flourished. He bonded with Tanizaki over the love of their sisters. He agreed to ADA’s conditions for helping him find his sister even though he could have simply attacked them for answers. When Kenji showed him the rice plains he was enraptured by the sight. He learnt to plant rice with Kenji and had continued to help him with farming even when he had no reason to help him. He sucked at paperwork but was really good at keeping with Kunikida’s schedules and helping him track and catch criminals (and without killing them!). He helped Oda babysit 15 kids by making playgrounds, showing up for their PTAs and helping them be more confident in school. When he had the opportunity, he could choose to be kind. When he had the patient guidance of a loving community, he could learn from them and change. (Minor scene at the start of the novel: When Akutagawa gets hot tea spilt onto him, Tanizaki and Kunikida sensed instinctive bloodlust on him. But what he really did, was to catch the tea cups and the serving tray swiftly with Rashomon and hand it back to the waitress.)

Oda pointed it out rightly - Akutagawa was an emotional person and he cared too much. When things he cared about were hurt, these emotions took control of him and he would lash out in rather violent ways. And he would feel guilty over it. But, how can a beast feel guilty? It is interesting that in the Beast AU, Atsushi was hardly ever referred to as a beast, even when he was famous for being unable to recognise friend from foe when he was in a tiger state. One of the more obvious parallels is then when Akutagawa noted that Atsushi was driven mad by guilt. And Akutagawa slowly saw it in himself. They were similar that way - both were hounded by the guilt of a irreversible mistake that destroyed/changed their lives. Akutagawa never forgave himself for leaving Gin alone that night when Dazai took her away, to the point that he wanted to die. He only wanted to find and kill two people. One was Dazai. The second was himself. He was afraid of this uncontrollable beast he felt was inside him.

Oda told him not to chase the beast for a good reason - Akutagawa was not a beast. But he could choose to be one, if he followed that path of no return. Kunikida at the crucial fight point, when urging Akutagawa to stand up and continue fighting said it too: that Akutagawa was not an evil person, but he could choose to be a good person if he chose to become a detective with the ADA. And Akutagawa chose. He allowed Atsushi to live, and told him to keep on fighting and living. He continued working with ADA, trying to solve cases and save people, so that he could prove to himself that he was not a beast, and that one day, Gin could see that he was better and came back to him. I think, even in the main universe, Dazai knows he is wrong about Akutagawa - he may have given up in trying to teach non-terrorising skills in Akutagawa when he was still in the Port Mafia, but he has since tried to amend his mistakes through Atsushi.

Being able to make choices is what makes you human. Choosing to do things beyond our instincts, our nature. We are good, because of the choices that we have made. Likewise, we are bad, because of what we have done. Akutagawa was born to have traits of a rabid hellhound, but he didn’t become one. No one tamed him. What happened, was that he had met with kindness. He had friends. He shared his thoughts and his past and his feelings to the members of the ADA, and they had connected with him and helped him out as much as they could, even when he had yet to fulfil the ‘spirit’ part of the exam. Kenji and Akutagawa had an interesting conversation in the fields. Kenji pointed out that while his companions had died, he had continued to live well. Akutagawa then wondered if it was because his companions have given him the best parts of themselves for him to live on. It is the connection with others that make life worthy of living, that make life mean something. To be human, is to make choices. To be judged on our worth as a human, is to be judged by our very actions. This is inherent in what it means to be alive: living is only worthy when we can share our lives with others.

Now contrast this with Dazai. Did he really have a choice? If he did, he made some dreadfully selfish ones that destroyed and traumatised the people around him. The Dazai in this world had his own experiences that made him a separate person from the other Dazais after all - his actions and the consequences were his and his own to bear. Who was he to have something that the other Dazais had worked to achieve? The Dazais in other universes may have lost Oda, but Oda was a friend, who shared memories and time with him, who understood and seen him. The loss was devastating, but main universe’s Dazai didn’t truly lose Oda. Oda was still alive, in his mind, giving him the motivation to live on, reminding him to reach out to others and telling him that he was not alone. Dazai in the Beast AU was truly alone. He might have thought that he could replicate a connection in this universe, but his actions had made them nonexistent. As much as Oda was kind and empathetic and perceptive in every universe, it was just impossible. And Oda’s life involved people he cared deeply about, people who Dazai had hurt. Dazai, in the Lupin bar that he had never been in this universe, may have been in denial to tide over the years of waiting for Oda to finish writing and for shin soukoku to develop the best they can be, but once he spoke to Oda, the illusion shattered. Even with all his knowledge of the world, it was never going to recreate a purpose to live. No matter his good intentions, Dazai would never receive the acknowledgement he badly wanted from Oda. Oda would never give him the relief of forgiveness Dazai wanted for the terrible deeds he had done. And Dazai would die, in misery, fulfilling a wish that didn’t truly belong to him.

If Dazai truly didn’t have a choice, then, he was compelled by forces that created this condition within him - he was then, the only beast of this universe.

#meta #essay length!#it's hyperfixation babes #i have A LOT OF THOUGHTS ON THE BEAST AU LN #bungou stray dogs #bsd beast #bsd #akutagawa #dazai

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7-wonders · 6 years

Text

M A S T E R L I S T

*denotes smut

+denotes completed series

Updated 10/23/20

Michael Langdon

Series

+As Above, So Below--Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

+Shatter--Your coven is at war with the Antichrist, who has sworn to bring about the total destruction of the world. The only problem is that your mortal enemy just happens to be your boyfriend, Michael Langdon. After the coven decides that your relationship can't stand, Michael takes action.

Mad Love--A normal evening of studying quickly goes wrong when you’re kidnapped. Things somehow manage to take a turn for the worse when you find out why: to be the bride of the Antichrist

Oneshots

And God Made Eve to Bear the Curse (vampire!Michael)*--Michael wants one thing, and one thing only–to drink from the oasis between your thighs.

Chord Progressions--In the post-apocalyptic world, you find music to be the only thing that makes living in an underground bunker with a bunch of spoiled rich people tolerable. The time finally comes for your interview with the mysterious Cooperative member, Langdon. Will you find your way to salvation? Or will there be more questions than answers?

Bathe Me In Blood*--After your numerous questions, Michael invites you to observe as he conducts one of his rituals. The turn that it takes is a welcome surprise for both parties.

Late-Night Reading--Your new friend Michael (aka the Antichrist) asks you to read to him one night after he has a nightmare.

Ride It Out--The end of the world is terrifying, even when you’re the Antichrist’s lover.

Driver’s Ed--Michael really wants to learn how to drive a car.

A Sanctuary Within the Sanctuary--The end of the world is more difficult to deal with than you had anticipated. Michael, appreciative of how you’ve stuck by him, decides to show you his thanks.

Practice Makes Perfect*--Michael wants a baby. You want a baby.

In the Clouds*--After a heated argument leads Michael to show you who’s in charge, you float off into the clouds.

Baby Love--You find out you’re pregnant, and now comes the hard part: Surprising Michael.

Sacrificial Lambs--What you thought was just going to be an event to meet the members of Michael’s Satanic church turns into a ritual sacrifice, followed by your unofficial ‘dark’ baptism. As any normal person, you don’t take the murders of two innocent people well.

Hurt--After an intense fight, Michael inadvertently causes what he does best: Hurt.

Sweet as Cyanide--Michael makes his final decisions for the Sanctuary, and leaves you with a cryptic warning about the upcoming Halloween party.

Without a Word--You’ve always been the light to Michael’s dark, the one who makes everyone smile instead of the one who scares people with a mere glance. Michael has never seen the clouds that lurk inside of you, threatening to spill over and ruin your carefully-constructed image.

Twilight, Eat Your Heart Out (vampire!Michael)--Pondering your own mortality is never a good long-term solution, especially when you have to compare it to the immortal vampire you’ve found yourself entangled in a relationship with.

Family Man--Michael brings his family along to the last Outpost after realizing that he’s not willing to sacrifice his loved ones for his father’s plan.

Lost In the Shadows--As a naturally curious person, the odd mannerisms of your elusive new boss pique your interest, making you determined to figure out who, or what, he is.

Thinking of Sin (CAOS!au)*--Michael, having fully embraced his title as Antichrist and heir to the throne of Hell, invites you to join him as his father’s church, the Church of Night, celebrates one of their most sacred holidays: Lupercalia, the festival of passion.

Creature of the Night (vampire!Michael)*--Michael indulges one of your secret fantasies on Halloween.

Heaven & Hell Were Words to Me*--A surprise takes a turn that should be sickening, but instead only serves to draw you even further into the web that Michael has woven.

Labyrinth King!Michael headcanons

Vampire Michael Musings

The Thrill of the Chase--Your path once again crosses with Michael’s, this time under much more dire circumstances. Life and death, specifically yours, has suddenly never been more prevalent in your mind.

Marry the Night--Outpost 3 has never been quiet. When you awake and find that, for the first time in months, there’s nothing but silence, you’re determined to get to the bottom of it. Soon, you’ll wish that you had stayed in bed.

Warm and Real and Bright--A Tangled!AU, with Michael as a dark Flynn Rider and reader as Rapunzel.

Duncan Shepherd

Series

Love Me Now+--Meeting Duncan’s family for the first time, you’re faced with the glaringly obvious facts: You don’t belong.

Part One | Part Two

Memento Mori--When being in the wrong place at the wrong time lands (Y/N) in the blood-stained hands of D.C.’s most notorious crime boss, Duncan Shepherd, she finds herself unexpectedly in his debt. Perhaps owing the dangerous man a favor would be more torturous if he weren’t so engaging.

Beauty and the Beast!Duncan Shepherd AU

Wilted Roses Smell Just as Sweet--How Duncan came to become the monster that he is when he and reader’s paths cross.

This Place of Wrath and Tears--Jim is missing, and nothing can prepare you for what you stumble upon in your quest to find him.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing Your Prisoner--You begin to resign yourself to life in a prison cell, when things somehow manage to become even stranger. Alternately, Duncan deals with his staff and fellow prisoners having hope for the first time since the curse was placed on his home and everyone in it.

This Cruel Trick of Fate--A quick blurb from Duncan’s POV.

Down the Rabbit Hole--You make a decision about your stay at the enchanted manor, but at what cost?

Oneshots

Gala Blues*--At a political gala, you’re ridiculed and objectified by some of Duncan’s colleagues. A fight ensues between you and Duncan, continuing to a standoff that can only end in one way.

Kiss Me Through the Phone--The Republican jerk who follows you on Twitter turns out to actually be kind of nice. You’re more than content with him just being an internet acquaintance, but plans change when it turns out that he’s going to be attending the same event tonight as you.

Come Out and Play*--Your boyfriend, Duncan, has a few tricks up his sleeve to help you relax after the stressful day you had.

From the Desk Of...*--The mandatory class you’re forced to take this semester is enough to make you consider dropping out of college. The only thing that makes it bearable is your teacher: Professor Duncan Shepherd. He’s smart, handsome, witty, and, not to mention, twenty years your senior.

Like an Animal* (werewolf!Duncan)--Duncan finds himself in big trouble when he gets trapped in an elevator with you the night before his shift and in the midst of his heat. (Werewolf!Duncan Shepherd)

Service With a Scribble--Duncan’s a dick to a cashier, and (Y/N) decides to get back at him with a healthy dose of kindness.

Violent Delights* (incubus!Duncan)--Accidentally summoning a seductive incubus leaves you between a rock and a hard place, but do you really want out of this as much as you claim?

As the World Falls Down--You’ve stood by Duncan through thick and thin, but when the true intention of the app he’s been developing is revealed, everything crashes down around you.

Inside Out--After one too many instances of Duncan being the token stuck-up rich guy, you’re ready to show him how the rest of America lives by taking him through a day in your life.

All the Time In the World--Life has thrown you a few curveballs lately. Between absolute chaos wreaking havoc at your job, being too busy to sleep and your schedule not meshing with Duncan’s, you’re stressed beyond measure. So stressed, in fact, that you don’t notice you miss your period until you’re two weeks late.

Duncan Shepherd NSFW Alphabet*

Jim Mason

Oneshots

Kiss of Fire*--You only want what’s best for Jim, and that includes staying clean of drugs. Jim, who’s been bottling up his true feelings for so long, finally snaps after he finds out you flushed his stash.

Half of My Heart--Jim was supposed to be better now. After his psychotic break, you and Medina had made sure that it was impossible for him to slip back into his old habits. But the morning comes, and so does the realization that he’s been lying to both of you.

Xavier Plympton

Truth or Dare--A oneshot of Xavier being dared to play Seven Minutes in Heaven, and you’re the one that the group chooses to go with him.

Still Lovin’ You--You’re smoking weed with Xavier in the back of the infamous Vanta-C when things get a little steamy.

Shot Through the Heart--Being a ghost, you could handle. Your boyfriend killing people? Not so much.

Welcome Home (Sanitarium)--After two years, Xavier returns to the spot where he nearly lost his life...and where you did.

Cum On Feel the Noize*--Xavier has ideas on how to spice up your boring shift.

#masterlist #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #Michael Langdon x you #duncan shepherd #Duncan Shepherd imagine #Duncan Shepherd x reader #jim mason #Jim Mason imagine #Jim Mason x reader #xavier plympton #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton x reader

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Nineteen: Been There Before ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino, Uzumaki Naruto ] [ SasuHina, blood ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

He’s still figuring out this whole...Rinnegan thing.

One moment he’s with Naruto on an S-rank mission - something he never thought he’d have to do after having reformed the police force. The roles of shinobi have been changing since the end of the war, but...well, there’s little ignoring the power he wields, and just how necessary it can be.

The next, attempting to use space-time to flicker from a blow, addled by a heavy wound...Sasuke finds he’s no longer at the battlefield.

In fact...the sudden change leaves him so confused, he just sort of...stands there for a moment, clutching the wound in his side and looking over his surroundings. This...isn’t where he was just fighting alongside Naruto. In fact, he doesn’t even hear any sounds of conflict anymore.

And after a moment to really think...he realizes...he’s been here before.

He’s in Shi no Mori...the forty-fourth training ground where he and the rest of team seven took their second chūnin exam…!

What on earth…?

Spreading his senses, he does indeed feel the life forces of all the deadly beasts that roam the grounds. But alongside them, he finds human chakra signatures.

And...wait...is that…?

Brow furrowing, a hypothesis begins to form...but he’ll gather more evidence first.

Following one particularly-familiar aura, Sasuke keeps hidden in a cluster of undergrowth, one hand on his sword hilt.

...it is him.

Gaara.

But this isn’t the Godaime Kazekage Gaara. This is genin Gaara, flanked by his siblings and facing a squad of Ame shinobi.

...he’s in the past…

Apparently he needs to work on controlling his space-time ninjutsu. He didn’t just dodge that attack...he dodged several years. And in reverse! Well...all he has to do is hop forward and find the right time, and -

...wait a minute.

A spike of chakra flares to his left, and Sasuke gives it a wide-eyed look. Beyond the bushes, Gaara crushes his enemies, and even his siblings’ signatures reveal their revulsion.

But this chakra...he knows this chakra.

There’s a moment of tension before the Suna team takes their leave. For a moment, Sasuke watches them go. He’d almost forgotten how ruthless Gaara was back then. Funny how much people can change…

But now to the other matter.

“T-that was close…!”

“I...I-I never thought someone would...would…!”

“It’s quite unsettling, but...also the reality of being a shinobi. Part of these exams is to test if we truly are ready for such realities.”

“But still...Shino-kun...weren’t you even a l-little bit scared?”

“...I was. But we’ll be fine, Hinata. We’d best get going. The sooner we reach the end of this exam, the sooner we’ll be safe.”

“But we don’t know what the last exam will be!”

“Kiba, keep your voice down. Do you want those three to come back?”

“N-no way!”

“...come on.”

There’s a rustle, and the four signatures - one canine - begin to fade.

...he really needs to get back...and yet…

He never had the chance to know her back then. He’d been so consumed by his goals, such a quiet person had largely escaped his notice. But here she is...so small, so...different. The Hinata he knows now is still quiet...but far more confident. More tested.

Maybe he’ll just...stick around a little longer. He doesn’t have any memories of his wife from this era. Perhaps he’ll just borrow a few. But he can’t be seen...he can’t know what kind of paradoxes his presence might bring if he’s noticed. So, he’ll lay low.

Besides, he’s technically still wounded...he needs to find a place to patch up, and rest to regather his chakra enough for a jump back. So, in the meantime...he’ll just -

...wait…

...what day is it? Maybe if it’s early enough...maybe if he’s jumped far enough back...he could find Orochimaru, and just -!

No...no, he can’t interfere. He’s made his choices - changing them now may very well make his current existence obsolete. Time is a finicky thing...he can’t afford to go tinkering with it. But oh...the things he could tell his younger self. The heartache he could spare that poor lonely boy…

Sasuke’s head bows, having to physically fight the temptation. It wouldn’t just be himself he could save...how many were hurt, and killed, by the viper and their schemes? The third exam brings the coup with Suna, the attack against Konoha…

...and yet…

He heaves a curt sigh. There’s no time to even consider it. The past should remain the past. For now...he has other priorities.

Finding an alcove, he lifts the torn material of his shirt to bare the injured skin of his side with a hiss. It’s not too deep...but he can’t let it get infected.

Good thing he always comes prepared.

From his leg pack he draws a small canister: a poultice Hinata made for him only a few days ago. Careful fingers reach in and retrieve a smear, carefully painting it over the wound before applying gauze and winding it in place. Well...it’s hardly the patch job he’d like, but that can wait until he gets home.

For now, he needs to rest and let his chakra pool rejuvenate.

Nearby, he catches several fish, skewering them and cooking them over a katon-started campfire. The same strategy he and his team used...and may very well be using now. Some food will go a long way in rebuilding his energy.

Once that’s done, he covers his tracks and starts to move, following his senses to another campsite.

He’s never really paid Hinata’s teammates much mind. Kiba’s just another loudmouth, too reminiscent of Naruto to really invite the Uchiha’s company. And Shino is just...well, Sasuke respects him well enough. But he’s too similar in the sense that both can stand in complete silence and not say a word. Needless to say, any meeting between them has been rather useless in actually getting to know one another.

Perching far up in a tree above them, he cloaks his chakra and just...watches for a bit. At least he’s technically resting

“Are you sure about those mushrooms, Kiba-kun…?”

“Yeah! My mom cooks ‘em all the time. Trust me!”

“Many fungi that are edible also have near-duplicates that are deadly, or at least toxic,” Shino rebukes, adjusting his glasses. “We must be absolutely certain…”

“Gah, you guys are a bunch’a worry warts! I’m tellin’ ya, they’re fine!”

“Maybe we should, um...find something else to eat...j-just in case…”

“Don’t tell me you’re doubtin’ me too?”

“I just...d-don’t want us to get sick, Kiba-kun. There’s already enough to worry about in here...right?”

Sasuke quietly scoffs to himself. Leave it to Kiba to be so stubborn. Hinata and Shino are right...it’s a stupid thing to take a risk on in a place already so determined to kill you.

“Well we gotta eat something...if you guys don’t like my idea, come up with one yourself!”

“Fauna would probably be safer than flora...at least with more animals, they have ways to warn you if they’re v-venomous.”

“That’s true. Kiba, you’re able to make traps, right? We’d best try that.”

“Yeah, yeah...does that mean we’re makin’ camp here? Cuz we’ll have to wait for something to get caught. And no use in trying to circle back - I bet we’d never find our way in this place…”

“I suppose we can. And we’ll need to take shifts sleeping - someone should be awake at all times to keep watch.”

As the team figure out dynamics, Sasuke dozes, feeling his energy levels slowly rise. Another few hours, and he’ll have the chakra to leap back to the present. Well...his present. It’s a bit of a relative thing, after all.

They catch a few small animals to skin and cook, talking quietly as the day fades. Hinata offers to take first watch, with Kiba next, and then Shino.

“Be sure to use your Byakugan when you can. We can’t know what direction a threat might come from.”

“R-right! Don’t worry, I’m ready.”

...oh crap. Wait -!

He can sense her flare in chakra, and Sasuke knows: there’s no hiding from her kekkei genkai. And he has no idea what her range is at this age - only that his Hinata can see ten kilometers in one direction. He needs to shunshin, and fast…!

“...huh…?” Turning, Hinata looks up the tree they’ve made camp under, narrowing her focus. That’s funny...she could have sworn she saw someone, but...there’s no one there now…

“Everything okay?”

“...yeah. I just thought I saw…”

“What?”

“...never mind.”

Stumbling a few steps, Sasuke takes a moment to regain his sense of balance. Jumping that far really does a number on his equilibrium...and...whoa.

...looks like he missed one hell of a fight.

Craters dot the landscape, which is bathed in twilight. He’d recognize the impacts of Rasengans anywhere.

Speaking of which...where is -?

“OI!”

Grunting, Sasuke bows under the weight of Naruto tackling him from behind. “Get...off...me…!”

“Where the HELL have you been?!” the blond screeches, shaking him like a ragdoll. “I been lookin’ for hours, ‘ttebayo! I thought you were dead somewhere!”

“No...just took an unexpected detour.”

“Huh?”

“Guess I still need some practice with the Rinnegan...went to jump from an attack, and ended up miles away...and in the past.”

“WHAT?!”

“Look, I’ll...explain on the way. I’ve got a wound that needs tending, and we need to report back. I take it you resolved things…?”

“Of course I did! Told Kakashi-sensei I wouldn’t need ya...but I didn’t think you’d up and bail on me!”

“I didn’t bail! I told you, the Rinnegan -!”

“Yeah, yeah...excuses, excuses.”

“You want to hear the story, or not?”

“...okay, yeah, I do. Let’s get going.”

“So, I think you saw that blow that threw me up in the air a few hundred feet? So on the way back down, I…” Footsteps carry them from the battlefield, Sasuke recounting his little misadventure.

But he really can’t wait to tell Hinata who he saw.

.oOo.

Well, it had to happen eventually: some time travel shenanigans, woo! In reality I'd like this topic to be one I'd write, well...MORE with, but dailies have to be kept a reasonable length, so...maybe I'll do a proper oneshot or a short series on it someday after the year is over. We'll have to see! Because Sasuke ending up meeting a past Hinata is a really cute idea. Buuut for now, this is all I have the time and energy for ;w; So on that note, I better call it a night! Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #inuzuka kiba #aburame shino #uzumaki naruto #blood //#a light amongst shadows [ canon verse ]#365daysofsasuhina

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leonawriter · 5 years

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I'm curious, where does the headcanon come from that Dazai is the book?

Well, I don’t think I’m the first to come up with the idea that he’s the Book, though all the ones I’d seen before were all along the lines of “for the angst factor, let’s make them literally just fucking die.” Which. Obviously wasn’t my scene, so I kinda went “how about we do this my way.”

Which... wound up having me go “okay let’s take the only one who makes any sense here - Dazai. Let’s take him because his Ability, “No Longer Human,” lines up nicely with what Fitzgerald has said about the Book, that it “cannot be burnt by fire nor destroyed by any special ability.” Since Dazai is the world’s strongest nullifier, with as Randou/Rimbaud says, “no compare,” this fits. We haven’t seen him burn yet, but let’s not, to be honest.

That said... ‘unable to be destroyed’ does suit Dazai quite well even in broader terms. Ways and means of death that Dazai has survived include; drowning, shooting (standing in the middle of gunfire counts), hanging (hanging scars are canon to the Mayoi app game’s Gakuen AU, so), mushrooms (in theory - and the luck of ‘accidentally’ choosing the wrong ones), and... who knows what else. He has an entire book on the subject. He’s tried a lot. None of it has worked.

From there, there’s also the fact that Fitzgerald, as well as others, appear to believe that Atsushi is the way to find the Book, which is ‘clearly’ in Yokohama right now. The first thing Atsushi really does in Yokohama is find Dazai, and he’s attached himself to Dazai ever since. And Dazai has been in Yokohama for as long as we’ve known about him, at least since he was fourteen.

Speaking of age, he was somehow able to find the Book when he was much younger in the BEAST AU, although we never see it, nor do we know where, exactly, it is (according to all I know, at least).

Things that are somewhat more circumstantial are-

Almost all of the side-stories involve Dazai in some way, despite Atsushi being the story’s main major protagonist. This makes sense if Atsushi is the protagonist but the Book continues even when the protagonist is absent. Even the Untold Story of the Founding of the Detective Agency has him on the front cover, I believe.

And... overall, the entire tone of the story shifts alongside Dazai’s own mindset. Prior to fourteen years ago, there is very little that is good that happens; there is a war going on, after all, and we see many characters referring to how much suffering takes place in it. Even the founding of the Agency is brought with the sense of people having suffered, or being in pain in some way (I’m primarily thinking of Ranpo, here). Things begin to (ironically) improve when Mori forces Dazai to become witness to his ascension to Mafia Boss; Mori, for all his faults, is still a better Boss than the old one.

The 15 book/arc is a relatively light one - which makes sense, given it’s when Dazai himself is having a good time. Dark Era is when he.. really isn’t. And everything after that is full of light. Dazai’s own philosophy of “trying to do good regardless of even if it’s what I’m best suited for” shines through everyone.

From there, there’s still a few bits and pieces I put in: one is the idea I took from someone else that’s basically that Dazai literally can’t die; in In The Moonlight he’s close to it, because as seen, the Book itself is in tatters so much that a strong wind would blow it apart. But once he’s allowed to heal (and by doing so, so will the paper Book), he’ll actually go back to normal.

Another is that the “Book” is actually in two pieces; one is the personification, Dazai, and the other is the physical manifestation, the paper book that can be written into, and can create things. Dazai in my AU/hc has ink writing appear on his skin, and when he goes far enough, his eyes can go fully ink-black, which is all things that have already happened, and that are determined events. The physical manifestation is something he can affect, or anyone else can, but which is still connected to him. The paper can affect reality and the future, which Dazai can only do if writing on the paper, or via his own individual actions.

tl;dr: someone came up with the idea that a person is the Book itself, or a personification of it, and to me at least the only one who truly makes sense is Dazai.

All that said, I can’t take it fully seriously as angst, because in my version where Dazai knows and is aware, and Chuuya finds out, I’ve spent way too long in pun battles with my friends, often with things like, Chuuya going “I can read you like an open book” and “you’re spineless” and “who even writes this third-rate crap” “don’t look at me, I’m just the poor paper it gets written on.”

EDIT: since I've seen people suggest this is an actual theory, I'm restating here that it is not. It's an AU. I do, however, like to make AUs st least semi-believable. I first saw this in a fanfic.

#bsd stuff #bsd #dazai is the book au #youareshauni

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 5 years

Text

Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori - The Tenebrae Rebellion AU

(lat.: It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.)

From a war poem by Wilfred Owen called Dulce Et Decorum Est.

The whole story will be written together with @lightsaberwieldingdalek, so at least half of the credits have to go to them. You’re amazing :)

Here’s the Link to AO3.

With wide impossibly wide eyes Ravus stared at what should have been a peaceful farewell between the royal houses of Fleuret and Lucis Caelum. The earth shuddered beneath his feet with every rattling step the MT and soldiers around him took. He could hear nothing but the blood roaring in his ears like a ravenous beast eager to swallow him whole.

Somebody screamed, high and fearful, making Ravus startle. Lunafreya, a voice roared within his chest. A voice that was so much braver than he was. He turned around, a lost expression painting his face a pallid white. Where was Lunafreya? Where was his mother? Where-

The shot was loud, louder than the others fired in the clearing killing the people in attendance - his people, the beast in his chest screamed, these were his people that were strewn about like puppets cut from their strings, dead dead dead - to his ears and a sudden pain bloomed in his left arm. On instinct he tried to cover it with his other hand. The sudden near blinding pain of his hand coming in contact with the wound made him go to his knees.

The ground was dry. It hadn’t rained in days, but despite that a part of Ravus had expected the grass beneath his knees to be wet. Wet with ruby red blood, pitch black oil and... something.

Just something.

Tears maybe.

Pain pulsed in the rhythm of his heartbeat and he could barely breathe. A sobbing breath escaped his lungs. Why? Why was this happening? They had done as Niflheim demanded for so long now. It was supposed to have kept them safe! Keep Luna safe, lively and strong Luna. And his mother. His gentle and loving mother who could not stand to see people suffer.

A sudden heaving of the ground made him look up. And made him come face to face with a MT. Its red eyes, so red he could barely look at them, stared at him dispassionately, without any feelings at all, the faceplate with its human features mocking every ancient tradition Tenebrae adhered to.

Ravus stared and did not move when the soldier - thing, never a person - held his arm out and his hand folded down until it swung from a hinge that hadn’t been visible before, granting a look at the muzzle of what was probably a gun.

Just another gun.

Like the many that were fired around him in a howling cacophony of death and madness. Still, Ravus could not make his feet move, his knees rooted into the ground. He stared at the first flickers of a flame and his mind groaned in realization.

So it wasn’t a gun after all.

Stand up, the beast in his chest roared in tandem with the blood pumping through his veins. Stand up and run! Stand up and fight! Stand up and do something!

Heat caressed his face and he knew with a sudden certainty that this was it. This was the moment he would die.

I haven’t made my burial mask yet.

The thought hit him like a punch in the chest. Would his mother make him one? His sister? He hoped they would. That way they would find each other again when they came to join him in death.

“Ravus!”

Then, suddenly, like an avenging force, his mother was there, her beautiful cloak of blue feathers flapping behind her as she threw herself in front of him. For the fraction of a second she was wreathed in a halo of light, making her crystal crown sparkle with a thousand tiny rainbows and her golden hair glow like sunlight.

She was utterly beautiful. He would remember this moment, this crystal sharp shard of an instant for as long as he would draw breath.

Then time caught up with him and, as if it was trying to compensate for the moment frozen in memory, from one stumbling heartbeat to the next that halo of light became fire. The flames licked over his mother’s shoulders with hungry fingers, nearly swallowing her whole, and the sickly sweet smell of cooking meat overwhelmed the smoke clogging his throat and making his eyes tear up. But still she shielded him, tears dripping from his horror struck face. The sound of steel whistled through the air, and Ravus flinched, hands up to protect his face, as if that bare inch of flesh could shield him from that behemoth.

It was more than that inch which saved him, his Mother’s body slowing the blade just enough. An agonised, animalistic scream echoed in Ravus’s ears, as he crawled near on all fours to be at his mother’s side - no, what used to be his mother, the face near unrecognisable. The small part of his mind that was still capable of thought distantly noted that her burial mask would need to be intricate to remind her spirit of what she looked like.

Ravus struggled to regain control of his voice, to scream out for help, as he tried to climb back upon wavering legs. His eyes would not leave his mother’s body, her clothes and skin melted together until he could not say where one ended and the other began. Each breath he took burnt his lungs.

“Noctis!”

The cry made him turn around, startling him from his daze. There she was. Lunafreya, his sister. She stood by the wheelchair Prince Noctis used until his legs were back at full strength. His eyes met hers. She was so terribly young, he realized all of the sudden. Her eyes were wide in fear and shock, her face as white as the Queens’ from the water. Ravus lurched towards Lunafreya, but the raging fire was an impenetrable moat between them.

The Lucian King, Regis, hurried towards his son, cradling him close as that monster in the armour crashed into one of the tall, ancient trees surrounding them. He cradled his son close, as another squad of MTs grew near.

“Help us”, Ravus rasped, begging, finally finding his voice in a desperate attempt to make something happen. “Please, help us, King Regis!”

And, instead of staying and beating back the scary, evil things haunting them like in the stories, the Crystal King ran, dragging his sister behind.

Ravus could do nothing but watch in utter disbelief as the mighty King of Lucis ran like a coward. For a split second Lunafreya looked back and Ravus would always remember that face. So full of shock and desperation it nearly clawed his heart out in pain. Ravus dropped his head to weep, as the vast encircling fire grew closer and closer, the near unbearable heat singing his skin.

At least I won’t be apart from you for long, Mother. He hoped they would find each other again, even without the masks to help remind them of themselves and each other.

There was blood on his mother’s cloak. It stained the beautiful blue feathers but even they couldn’t hide the ugly tear within that the sword had caused. It was her favourite. Had been, he corrected himself with a ruthlessness he hadn’t known he possessed and fought the urge to vomit.

So focused was he that he didn’t hear the thundering steps shaking the ground beneath armoured feet, grass and earth giving away beneath the crushing weight. When a huge hand grabbed Ravus by the collar, he almost didn't notice. But as it proceeded to drag away from what was left of his Mother, his hands scrabbled uselessly in the air, the numbness of true horror filling his mind. He could not be away from her. He couldn’t!

Ravus forced his eyes to meet those of his captor’s, to at least die with the bravery befitting a soldier of Tenebrae, to see the face of his enemy and curse him in death, but all there was, was a twisted, almost profane, parody of a face, angular and pointed, sick light glistening from stretched, dark sockets. His breath stuttered in his lungs. He blinked the tears from his eyes. Death is a fact of life every living thing has to confront at some point, his mother had said the day they had made his father’s burial mask, even though they had never been able to find the body.

The blade that had stolen his mother’s life, bloodstained and huge and utterly terrifying, gleamed in the light of the all consuming fires as it was directed towards him. Death was a fact of life and he would have to confront it sooner than others.

If at all, there was barely any warning. A hissing sound maybe, high and shrill, a quiver in the air, as if the world was holding its breath. For a moment there was fire everywhere. On his skin, in his lungs, behind his eyes was nothing but warping flashes of light and his ears rang until he didn’t know anymore which way was up and which down. The monster in front of him relinquished its hold and then Ravus was sent flying like a ragdoll.

Blessedly cool shadows encompassed him. His back hit rough bark before he could comprehend what had happened and forced the last bit of air he had out of his lungs. He couldn’t even scream.

Breathe! The shrill voice in his head screamed. Breathe you idiot!

A shuddering breath forced itself past his numb lips as he lay on the ground, not able to even move a finger. If he could have, he would have howled in agony in that very moment. The blessed air left him again accompanied by a choked whimper.

Ravus forced his body to turn on its side and nearly lost consciousness.

All along his right side the only thing he could feel was pain. The cough building at the back of his throat wouldn’t come and forced him to take hacking gulps of air that made his chest heave. He did not know for how long he had lain there, but the ringing in his ears stopped and he could hear furious yells not too far from him. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but the tiny part of him that had managed to flee from the pain into the deepest depths of his mind, knew that there would be nothing good coming from the voices. If - when - if they managed to find him.

Fingers grasping uselessly at the grass, Ravus forced himself onto his knees and breathed a soundless moan of pain. The taste of bitter bile and coppery blood on his tongue made him heave again, but he forced himself to grab the tree he had fallen against and proceeded to stand up on shaking legs. The bark dug painfully into his hands but he ignored it as best as he could.

The voices behind him grew closer.

His first step nearly sent him down on the ground again. Somehow he remained standing, an ancient instinct forcing him to move and to keep moving. So he did with each limping step and ragged breath that felt like it would be his last. He knew these gardens, had learned to walk here. They didn’t.

With limping steps Ravus stumbled along the near invisible path winding around the ancient trees like a snake. The sound of splintering wood and rattling armour accompanied by the furious yells of a warbled voice that would follow him into his deepest nightmares, made him force his legs to move faster. If they found him, they would kill him without hesitation.

Here was the clearing that he and his father would spar with branches in, there was the river beach Luna took her first steps on. Every tree and rock held so many memories, now burning and breaking beneath uncaring feet.

Each breath he took made pain flare in his throat and each following one just made it that tiny little bit worse. He did not dare to look at the mess that was his right arm. Every few steps it would twitch and sent pinpricks of white hot pain up his shoulder and behind his eyes. The world in front of him was nothing more than a cluster of fuzzy shapes and blurry watercolours like the pictures his sister loved to paint so much. Despite that, his feet found their way along the path his pursuers would not be able to see, if they didn’t know about it, making their pursuit just that little bit slower.

After reaching the outermost edge of the garden, Ravus veered off the path and past the subtle border behind which the true forest began. Here the massive trees crowded closer, making the shadows darker and deeper. Or maybe that was the effect of the dwindling daylight. He couldn’t say.

Again he stumbled, but this time his hand couldn’t find a branch and or tree trunk to catch himself. Instead his hand found only air and for one moment it seemed to Ravus as if he was floating over an edge he couldn’t see. Then the gravity took hold of him and sent him tumbling down a grassy ravine, coming to a stop beneath thorny bushes with thick woolly leaves.

The bleeding scratches along his face and hands made it somehow so much worse. Darkness edged into his already blurry vision. The voice of the monster that had killed his mother sounded close but like it came from under water. The ground shook beneath heavy steps and the world spun as blackness swept him away from the pain and despair. For a time, at least.

Consciousness returned to him in small bursts and sharp fragments. The smell of dry earth, moss and fallen leaves was first, then came the sound of wind whispering in the branches and the utter lack of birds singing or small animals rustling in the undergrowth. Cool air caressed his skin and the wind brought with it the smell of burning things. The Pain returned with his waking, dancing under his skin, spiking out with the taste of copper on his tongue.

At once his eyes flew open. His right one, however, stayed glued shut and Ravus remembered enough of his mother’s lectures to not touch it or force it open. The thought sent a painful stab through his heart. He saw her again, during that one beautiful moment before the fire had engulfed her, and closed his eye to escape the image. It stayed. So he forced his eye open again to at least see something different. Anything but that.

It was dark.

How long had he been unconscious? The forest was eerily silent as he strained his ears to listen. Something tense in him loosened. There were no furious yells or clanging steps thundering between the trees anymore.

The moon rose, casting stark shadows across the forest as Ravus struggled to rise. Once… Twice… Thrice…. On the fourth attempt, he managed to pull himself up, clinging onto a tree trunk for dear life. Escaping the thorn bushes which must have shielded him from the searching eyes of his enemies, proved to be a near impossible chore when each tiny movement sent lances of pain through his body. The silvery, stark light turned the once familiar area into an alien landscape, full of half glimpsed faces and invisible tripwires.

Ravus didn’t know how long it took him to stumble into the city proper, but when he fell for the hundredth time, and landed in a bin rather than moss, the moon was high in the sky, staring down at him.

He curled up, out of sight of the main road, and cradled his side, pressing his face against the blessedly cool brick. Everything ached. His once immaculate uniform was torn and burnt. And here lies the Prince of Tenebrae, he thought, hiding behind the bins. The snort he gave at that thought made his throat burn, and his hands fluttered automatically towards the pain. A horrifying crispy squelch sounded in the alley, followed by almost a minute of poorly-suppressed gasps of pain.

The scream lodged in his throat passed his lips as a wispy thing that made nary a sound. Water. He needed water. And a doctor, he added once his mind registered more than the steady beating of his heart and the smell of burnt flesh and singed hair that followed him like a shroud.

As Ravus attempted to regain his breath, a creaking door banged open, flooding the dark alley with warm yellow light. He pulled himself down out of sight, his body instinctively curled into a tight ball to protect itself, as a pair of wrinkled feet in flowery blue slippers shuffled towards his hiding spot. As a last resort, he turned his face towards the wall, to at least attempt to hide his identity.

“Oh dear, what by the icy winds of Shiva’s breath”, came an old woman’s voice, kindly, and ever so slightly familiar, followed by the clutter of fallen rubbish bags. “You can’t stay here, dearie. There’s been an attack, the Niflheimr soldiers will take anyone into custody who’s out this late at night. The shelter two streets down is taking in everyone tonight without asking questions, even though they won’t have enough beds, I imagine.”

Ravus was sure that if he took shelter there, he would be discovered by those twisted things masquerading as living, breathing beings before the sun rose. He stayed stock still, hoping she would leave.

“Dearie?” A hand, soft with wrinkles and age but still strong, touched his shoulder. “By the Six! Is that blood?”

The woman pulled back. Ravus could hear her stumbling back in shock, her voice gaining a shrill quality that grated in his ears and made the throbbing in his head worse. Struck by the sudden fear, that this woman calling the authorities would only get him shoved into a military cell or worse, Ravus spun round, pain flaring up again and making his vision flash white for a heartstopping long moment, to grab the woman’s hand with his left, uninjured one.

“You let me go, before I- Prince Ravus?!”

Ravus recognised this woman’s face now, at least a little. She was a retainer of his mother’s who had gotten leave to arrange the funeral of a deceased family member. He couldn’t remember who. His tongue felt like a swollen and useless piece of flesh as he tried to twist it to form words but didn’t manage more than a hoarse rattling. He clamped his mouth shut in an attempt to swallow. It didn’t help.

The old woman’s face had gone deathly pale, her countenance gaining a sickly yellow tint in the light that still shone through the open door. Distantly he wondered what she saw when she looked at him. It couldn’t be pretty. He squinted his one good eye at her as she seemed to shake herself out of her shock and squared her shoulders.

“Come, your highness,'' she whispered, urgency clear in her voice. “Come”, she said again, as she gripped his arm and helped him stand.

They were of a height. It made it easier for both of them since his legs threatened to give out again with every new step he took. The stairs up to her apartment took far longer to climb than he cared to remember. Not that he later remembered more than blurry images, insistent tugging and the urge to just sit down, yielding to whatever fate may come.

The next thing Ravus knew, he was lowered into an overstuffed chair, and the woman wrung her hands as he worked out how to breathe steadily again. She bustled back and forth, hiding messes as she glanced at the royalty in her home. She was clearly near a nervous breakdown of her own.

Eventually she whipped out a washcloth. “Let me help you clean up a little,” she muttered, moving close to wipe Ravus’ face. He tried to protest, but his first reaction, to speak, stopped him from doing anything other than grit his teeth against the pain.

The first moment he felt nothing but blessed coolness from the water, but then the pressure rose as the woman - he still couldn’t remember her name - tried to scrub at the dried blood on his throat. Something moved in the wound. If he could have screamed, he would have. Instead the air left him through clenched teeth in a wheezing breath as blinding hot pain shot through every nerve of his being. He felt his limbs seize as he lost control of his body, a bubbling whistle emerging from his throat as he tried to howl again in absolute agony.

As if from far away he could hear the woman scream. It was the last thing he heard as the blessed darkness washed over him again and took the pain and everything else with it.

#ffxv #tenebrae rebellion au #lightsaberwieldingdalek #ravus nox fleuret #character death #permanent injury #rebellion leader!ravus #lunafreya nox fleuret #bamf!luna #once she's older #aged down characters #but only ravus and luna #rebellion #war #tenebrae #tenebraean culture

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donniedrako15comissioncenter · 2 years

Text

Mori Jin (19 Yeouiju) vs Goku (Wrath of Dragon)

Few people from any universe can claim to have a life as exciting as Son Goku. After all, it seems ever since he found a young girl in the forest, his entire life has been an adventure. An epic that has brought him against the world's greatest armies, deadly mercenaries, and even the universe's greatest monsters; yet this one man, out of all others, has reignited an excitement that was dormant for years.

His newly revived body felt genuinely alive, nerves racing across his frame like fireworks. Nevertheless, Goku managed to calm his nerves, doing basic stretches to get out the nervous energy. With that, the Z fighter finally put on his signature gi, collecting himself properly for what may be the most formidable challenge he could get.

"Welp, I guess it's time to go. I would hate to keep him waiting," Goku said playfully.

Goku exited his waiting area, rallying behind the massive crowd gathered in the Other World Stadium. The Sayain never attended to have such a crowd, but I guess this event did serve as a good reunion for all the great rivals he's made these past seven years. Either way, it gave him a massive amount of comfortable nostalgia as he finally faced the man responsible for this event.

He arrived at Goku's house three days ago, covered in bloody scars and wounds from what looked like a beast. At first, Goku thought he was simply a regular guy that got lost in the forest. But all it took was looking at his yellow eyes shining with predatory hunger to realize the man was far from ordinary. The fact he was in walking shape by day one proved it.This meant that the second one was spent bonding, eventually learning the story of Mori Jin, the Monkey King. His past as a malicious mythical monarch, the teenager that fought against the villainous Nox, and the current remnant with only vengeance to claim. A remnant sent to this universe to seek greater strength had one request for the "Legendary Super Sayain."

"Please, Goku, fight against me with everything you've got. Give me strength to stand against Mubong!"

Despite the seriousness of Mori's pleas, Goku accepted his request. After all, it's not like the Sayian needed a reason to fight before. Especially against an opponent that was already strong. After his battles with Majin Buu and Hirdugan, he had feared he saw all this universe had to offer.

However, Mori's very essence disproved that. Behind his triumphant smiles and genuine camaraderie laid a torrential stream constricted from a massive ocean. A stream that could overwhelm him if he let it. Similar to Goku, Mori Jin, now clad in a robe and iconic clothes, looked toward his opponent. Displaying complete confidence while still trapped in his shorter, blue-haired Mori Dan persona.

Still, that never did stop the martial artists from exchanging pleasantries. A respectable bow took place between the two before morphing towards their Turtle School and Retawkendo stances. As their immense auras reached their peak, last words got shared.

"Let's make this a good clean fight, Mori," Goku said respectfully.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Mori said while gearing up.

Instantly the crowd's voices grew silent, centering the fighter's focus as their fists met in an almighty clash! The sheer power caused a massive gust, cracking the arena slightly. However, in this battle of strength, Goku won out, as his punch forced Mori back. The Z fighter consecutively winded up another punch with double the power, straight towards Mori's head. Automatically Mori's mind got peppered by various alarms, his many weapons begging to defend their master despite his refusal.

"No, if I can't handle this much, I've got no chance against Mubong or anyone else. So instead of relying on power," Mori thought through slowed perceptions, "I'll bet on technique."

Pinpoint grace followed Mori's next action, leaning back enough to look like the punch had fallen him. Only to spring himself up to unleash a backspin kick to Goku's head! A lesser opponent would've crumpled, but Mori didn't come to face one. Meaning Goku's other hand blocked the attack just in time.

"Getting the first hit won't be that easy," Goku said competitively.

Mori grew more determined, seamlessly moving towards a low sweep that grinds itself into the stadium. Goku jumped up to avoid it, which created valuable distance as Mori unleashed a small hellfire of air bullets from his fists. Instinctively Goku deflected them in mid-air, which was the plan as Mori rushed in with a flying knee! A timely block prevented the blow from landing. Still, the attempted counterattack after is what sealed Goku's fate as before execution Mori twisted into a leg lock that left him vulnerable.

Tendons harder than titanium cable flexed, preparing for a full salvo worth of punches. Not wanting to be outdone, Goku "gave up," relying on his ki. Goku immediately spun Mori off using flight, forcing him to back away before getting body-slammed into the arena. He kept his offense up, though, closing in for a jump backspin kick. It never connected, though, as the Sayain vanished in an afterimage. Realizing the trick, Goku appeared right behind him in the iconic pose of the solar flare. Answering his bluff, Mori decided to ramp things up.

"Recoilless Kick."

Unparalleled talent, insurmountable technique, and tempered experience combined for the peak of martial arts. Mori bent the space around him without a single wasted motion with a kick, sending out a rippling distortion of space across the entire stadium. Instantly the posed Goku vanished, leaving Mori with this to say.

"Tricks like that aren't going to work on me," Mori said as he looked behind him to see the real Goku, now too shaken to move.

"Sorry, I can't help it. You remind me so much of my years with Master Roshi. So if you don't mind indulging me," he said as his hair turned golden, "can you deal with my tricks just a little longer?"

Mori made his answer known with a fighting pose. Both did nothing, though, as Mori got a Super Saiyan roundhouse to the face before he knew it! Another deadening shockwave blindsided Jin with blood trickling from his mouth. This didn't dare down his resolve, though, instead, the former god moved ever forward. Noticing his footwork, Mori tried to use the momentum of Goku's attack to unleash a spin kick of his own.

Yet this didn't matter to the speed of a Saiyan, which is exactly what Jin counted on. Jin shifted the trajectory towards Goku's left foot at the last possible second, snapping like a rubber band! With his body now parallel in mid-air, Jin revved up another recoilless attack through a palm strike. Unfortunately for him, Goku's adaptability was second only to himself, blocking the attack with a golden energy ball.

A huge explosion forced both fighters back desperately as they held onto the broken stage. The sheer hype from the bleachers made it seem like it was anyone's guess, but as Mori looked at his searing right hand, he realized he had lost this "round."

"He used the distortion caused by recoilless to set off his energy ball like a bomb. No one's ever done that before. Looks like Mori Dan is done for," Mori thought as Goky flew straight towards him.

Collecting himself, Dan unleashed an axe kick towards the arena, annihilating it while sending a thunderous wave of stone towards Goku. The debris got vaporized amid Goku's aura. Though it did cover his line of sight, leaving him defenseless against three words that have shivered enemies' souls. Feeling a chill, Goku, in nanoseconds, transformed into Super Saiyan 2 before saying.

"Renewal Taekwondo: Hwechook."

Goku got struck by a nearby asteroid like a bolt of lighting, almost shattering on impact. The Z fighter's eyes glazed over, only refocusing on a boot in his face. The crater beneath them started to deepen further, all while his head rang like a bell. Before another attack could go off, Goku immediately used Instant Transmission, teleporting away to greet his new opponent. Dramatically Mori's height, hair, composure, and power had changed. Still, it felt very "true" to Mori. Goku steadied himself while saying.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who can transform. What do you call this?"

"Let's call it my true power for now. And your defeat," Mori said resolutely.

"Hmph, we'll see."

Goku immediately morphed towards the solar flare, this time being successful in blinding all that surrounded him—leading to a sharp elbow towards Mori's gut. Upon contact, he realized he didn't hit the skin, though, instead striking Jecheondaeseong's greatest defense: the dragon armor suits. The suits morphed across Mori's body like a blanket, responding to his will as he gave them new orders.

"Speed mode."

The combatants' entire surroundings started to warp around them as Goku got sent hurtling into multiple asteroids, exploding them like fireworks. Mori blitzed past him upon crashing through his tenth one, unleashing enough split-second hits to tear into Goku's gi. He didn't finish, though, for if Goku had the flying nimbus, then Mori Jin had.

"Gendowun: Thunderbolt."

A continent-size storm unleashed heavenly lighting on the warrior in the middle of space, lighting him up like dynamite. Briefly, Mori collected himself, wondering if he'd won the day. Quickly those thoughts got put to rest, as he soon realized that the surrounding lightning was not his own.

Like a generator, the sheer power of the surrounding area circled a well of golden light. And instead of the roar of thunder, he only heard an almighty scream. One that got revealed to see Goku's peak: Super Saiyan 3. The mood switched widely, darkening the battle's mood. Without prompting, Goku decided to unleash his signature technique. Through his cupped hands, the entire area lit up as if watching the birth of a sapphire star.

"KKKAAAAAMMMMMEEEEHHHAAAMMEEEHAAAAA!!!"

The Monkey King braved a blast that tore through the entire Other World, shaking it to its core. However, he stayed undeterred. After all, Mori was never alone. Legend says that Sun Wukong held a staff that could peek through the heavens, but Mori needed an edge to raze them. So he decided to repeat his legend 19 times over.

With his signature Yeoui at the center, eighteen other mystical staffs of numerous shapes and sizes supported it, morphing them into a shield that braved through the attack. But not without evident distress, through sizzling smoke, lied an exhausted Mori, minutes away from transforming back. Noticing his opponent's weariness, the two decided to take a short retreat on a small rocky platform. Both breathed heavily, mere minutes away from losing steam, yet still never losing their politeness through huffed breaths.

"Why aren't you attacking," Mori said while collecting himself.

"Because I only want to fight an opponent at its best. It's no fun if you're weakened or hurt," he said.

It was such an offhanded statement, but it resonated heavily with Mori. Millenia's worth of memories came flooding in, desperately scrounging the depths of his consciousness to answer a question.

"When was the last time I was truly happy? When was the last time I had fun without worry? Or even felt strong enough to do whatever I pleased? It feels so long ago," he said bittersweetly.

At that moment, Jin started to tremble uncontrollably, now having time to truly accept that the fight after this may be his last. He might not make it in time. He may not be able to save Earth. He may not ever regain what he's lost. He may not even win. So in this space, where no one else could truly understand or see him, he didn't have to worry about anything. Mori gave a genuine, entirely carefree smile, deciding to soak up this very moment with ease. He raised himself with his staff Yeoui.

"Well, that's good because I'm about to have far more fun!"

Goku gave a compassionate smile as he raised his fist once again. The crowds could be heard loud and clear this time as the battle reached its final point. Goku and Mori engaged in CQC beyond light speeds, each dodging their respective blows in dozens of split-second afterimages. This dance of flickering bodies lasted for nearly a full minute, keeping the audience on their toes before both unleashed a definitive slug on each other's heads. However, the blinding pain of such attacks got eclipsed by their massive respect.

"Calloused hands and dynamic movements," Mori said.

"Countless scars and perfect equilibrium," Goku said.

"I wonder, what did it take for him to reach this level?" they said while preparing their next attack.

The two fighters flashed back for a small instant throughout their lives, morphing through different stages, with their most important opponents there to match them. From greedy gods, alien conquerors, and peaked rivals, every experience they had brought them here. Still, they advanced, separating themselves through a blast of force.

The rising distance forced them into their long-range attacks, decorating the sky in speeding dragon staffs and ki blasts respectfully. Both opponents dodged them all expertly, upping their techniques respectfully. A flick of the wrist was all it took to send five rampant Destructo discs gunning straight for Mori's body.

Which forced Mori to take more desperate measures, calling upon the mystical powers of several staffs. Mori called upon elemental mayhem as an extension of his body, calling upon numerous tornadoes of fire, ice, and lightning. The two attacks violently met, caking the space-like area into a one-of-a-kind light show that destroyed the platform completely.

Goku surveyed the area, wondering where his opponents had departed in the carnage—only for Mori Jin, sailing on his last Yeoui, readying his last kick. The image of a dragon charging behind him with his devilish grin. Knowing this was the end, Goku answered the call. His golden aura starting to condense in his right hand.

"Mori Jin Original: Rail gun plus Kick of The Blue Dragon!"

"Dragon Fist!"

Awe peppered itself through the audience as the image of two humongous astral dragons soared towards each other. They clawed, headbutted, and even bit into each other, transcending in height and power, eventually, ending in a single stroke. An amazed crowd at that point remained speechless as in the distance. They saw the dual icons fall from the sky like shooting stars. Everything before this would've already made this a battle worth recording for ages, but the beaming smirk from an exhausted Goku as he congratulated his new, fully prepared friend and rival; made the fight priceless

#mori jin #goku #dragon ball #god of high school #Goh #dbz #fanfiction #comission #comissions #writing #badass #dragonball

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knightofbalance-13 · 6 years

Note

what are your thoughts www(.)fanfiction(.)net/s/12667631/2/30-Ways-to-kill-Ragna-The-Bloodedge ,www(.)fanfiction(.)net/s/12667631/3/30-Ways-to-kill-Ragna-The-Bloodedge , www(.)fanfiction(.)net/s/12667631/4/30-Ways-to-kill-Ragna-The-Bloodedge

Oh jesus this is uh- something...

You guys just see me as a cleaner for the haters I fanbases don’t you?Well, this is a really fucking ridiculous thing so guess I’ll do it.

Let’s separate this into parts so the arguments are cohesive:

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REBEL 1:

“Do you seriously want an exaggerated anti-hero with little justification, people around him going against his theme and faced with the most evil villains while tearing away the madness he faces?”Yes. Because the world of Blazblue along with all those people around Ragna help support him and make him stand out. Also how is Ragna exaggerated? If he’s exaggerated then what is Guts from Berserk?!

“Then I pretty much made a good argument about why Ragna as a protagonist shouldn’t have his existence acknowledged and be renamed ‘Retard the Dumbedge’“

...Yeah, you’re an obnoxious little shit aren’t you? I don’t see any argument good enough to justify THAT childish behavior. Even Kirito isn't that bad.

“Ragna is said to act like your average Shounen protagonist but he doesn’t even after his character development.”Um...No, Ragna acts like the dull edgy anti-heroes we got in the 90′s. He only LOOKS like a Shounen Protag. And after his character development he kind of does act like a Shounen Protag but in a good way, doing his best to help people and do what is best for them. He pretty killed himself for that goal. What is this guy smoking?

“The characters don't work with Ragna OR with the story that blazblue is trying to tell.”Uh...How? Because all I see is what RWBY originally was: a Rule Of Cool story with an emphasis on good eventually triumphing over evil.

“Ragna is an insult to the “Traditional Hero” for being called a “Chosen One”“

Hey Dumbass, the chosen one trope is used in ALL KINDS of stories, not just traditional hero ones. And Ragna ISN’T suppose to be a traditional hero, he’s suppose to GROW UP into one.

Now onto the next argument-and it’s a copy paste from a previous ask. Okay, the Blazblue ask I had before this one? go read that one for this argument.

“Blazblue’s exaggerated characterization, unnecessary protagonist, characters that focus on one major role, characters that could have been toned down and UNNECESSARY SEXUALIZATION (comparing it to RWBY) don’t work with Blazblue’s flawed story.”You have not proven any of this, many people like it SPECIFICALLY for this reason, it was the goal of the creators and they succeeded so in every regard you fail.(P.S. Monty Oum was a fan of blazblue dumbass. If RWBY has oversexualization [An idiotic statement by itself] it was probably FROM Blazblue.)

“After the backlash on my rant on Blazblue’s writing and how I will never...NEVER acknowledge Ragna’s existence to this day, even after four failed games.”A. Your rant is barely coherent, nevermind actually GOOD.B. You just acknowledged Ragna’s existence.

And C. Blazblue is almost as famous as fucking Guilty Gear. It’s not failure.

”I do believe Arcsys has left itself in the slammer for letting itself down with this crap.”Take your medication, you’re having delusions again.

“They could’ve seen previous media and make the story light hearted and not rip off guilty gear and make it worse.”*throws a copy of End Of Evangelion at his face* Like that story?

“And fire Mori from the reboot of Blazblue THAT I WANT! NOT THIS!”

Yeah- good luck with that.

“if you’re ‘pissed off’ while reading this, then accept it as fact. I will be on your good side, nothing will grind your gears. Now, that something we all want in this fandom with me around. Nuff said.”

*glares* Oh fuck off you facist.

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REBEL 2:

“*shotguns Ragna in the head and burst out in blood and bones*”Hey RWDE, you forgot one of your Jaune haters!

“AN: Oh, so is this the case then? How disappointing. I was expecting much of a reasoning from all of you, but all get is cynical backlash over how much of a dumbass I am.“Hey if the glove fits man.

“Now, I'm really not into Anime & Manga where a lot of tropes I see are very exaggerating, but come on already. You know how much hate darker, edgier, and brutal characters that believe they are badass, yet their misunderstood that term a lot. And I mean, A LOT.“Yeah and guess what? Ragna gets mocked for that and has to change against that to get respect.“Think about Kirby from Hoshi No Kaabi. He is a badass that can copy/paste other dudes into his will by swallowing them. After viewing the whole series as a kid, it's got wondering about what other sources of fiction I would see. I watched DragonBall Z, I watched Naruto, and I watched Ace Attorney. But then came BlazBlue, and my god. I bet I know what you're thinking. "If BlazBlue ain't for you, buddy. Then take a step back from the red line or you're toast."“

Well yeah, that’s how fandoms work dumbass. also I don’t care about your experiences.

“The mind is a very interesting concept I'm learning here. Not only do many people in this series is very individualistic, but cynical and self-biased as well. And you wanna know the reason? Is it Ragna? Is the exaggerated tropes in the series? Is it the convoluted nature of the series? Is it my overwhelming backlash towards the series? Or is it my fanfiction story that received so much backlash all because I wanted to replace a character that had the same "backstory"? Because I'm talking about the one asshole who was in charge of the whole series, the one who clearly wasted his own potential for nothing. It is going to be Japanese writer Toshimichi Mori.“

Oh gee, individualism. How terrible for a fascist like you.Also I highly doubt people are THAT cynical given the popularity of the Gag Reels and Bang Shishigami.

Also the backlash has everything to do with you jack ass. But sure, try blaming the creator for your own baggage. THAT hasn’t backfired before right?

“Now let's take a step back for a moment, shall we? Doesn't Mori ever love to take things down the roof? Does he love to put things into perspective like a Vase, then overwhelmingly shove Vases down our throats to show how amazingly complex they really are?”

The first thing Mori talked about with Bullet was her boobs. ... I’m pretty sure he just likes blowing shit up and making stuff that looks entertaining, especially considering the Astral Finishes, the basic character tropes written in their purest forms and characters like Bang.

It ain’t that deep, douchebag.

“You see, Daisuke was a very successful man in Arc Sys. He's written quite literally the best story out of all time, Guilty Gear. But then, one day, he decided to put his story on hiatus. Then asshole Mori shows up to take the advantage on him, and literally took his concept to the next level.”Isn’t Sol Badguy literally a self insert for the creator? Yeah I think Guilty Gear is just the same as Blazblue but with a different way going about things.So basically you’re a pissy Guilty Gear fanboy? Good to know.

“But goddamn, did that fail. A lot of people were brainwashed into thinking his work is awesome and full of depth, and sadly. It doesn't. Mori character concepts are great, but that doesn't exclude his idea of a "protagonist".“

Yeah because people like you think that it has to be brainwashing and not that your egos are disproportionately big and fragile.

“

Now, a protagonist is the lead character, not a hero. That's true. However, they are many flaws to this concept. One is, the protagonist has to fit the tone of the story being presented here. However, what doesn't make logical sense, is that BlazBlue is supposed to represent a cynical crapsack world that's revived by someone who throws his life like a badass and the day is saved. But unfortunately, the other characters who manage to take the spotlight act differently. That's right. They don't CARE about what the tone is from BlazBlue, they just act all non-nonchalant from the so-called "gag reels" and they are barely mentioned ever in the series fandom. Then we randomly shift from one setting to the next, when all of this couldn't have been solved by just staying the one final spot where they were.“

... Okay so he completely missed the point of a protagonist.Also: no fucking duh. The characters are different because they are different PEOPLE dumbass. PEOPLE aren’t a fucking hivemind.Also I find it hard to say Blazblue is THAT cynical given how the final game is one big triumph for idealism.Also not only are the gag reels SUPPOSE to have a different tone but the fanbase LOVES them.

Also that setting one is just-wrong.

“But uhen we have the main villain, who is said by legends to be the most barbaric and most vile creature ever to be exaggerated off the face of fiction. His archenemy is not the knight, but sour ass protagonist we see in this series. Isn't it ashamed that this battle couldn't have been awesome if a protagonist with a kind-hearted soul were to step up and stop this beast? Nope. We never get. Probably, not in a long shot we ain't.”

A. Yeah and Terumi OWNS that concept. Hence why people love him.B. Ragna stopped being an asshole a game and a half ago. There’s a reason why Tao’s nickname for him is “Nice Guy.”

C. The guy literally erased himself from reality so things could be better. Ragna the Bloodedge is everything characters like Ruby Rose aspire to be.

“And do the games improve dramatically from game play perspective? Nope, each and every game is the same. There are no group battles, it's always 2D, and new characters don't make it different. It's a lazy way of getting the game to be new, but it doesn't feel different from me by any means necessary.“Group battles? That;s a spectacle fighter dumbass!And yeah, new characters DO matter. As in, that’s what Fighting Games are based off you idiot.

“o hate how most of the fighting game concepts were ripped solely off from Guilty Gear. It's like if Mori looked at Daisuke's work by demand and copied off everything that didn't add up from before. That's just not right. It certainly makes more angrier and upset to see Mori put his series like that. What a joke.

Somebody whose played Guilty Gear deal with this.

“Then we have BlazBlue Radio, featuring the ugly protagonist sitting next to two beautiful girls. Now may I remind you, I'm not against every single character in the series, except the protagonist and the evil monster. The protagonist gets the biggest spotlight cause I have quite literally, have the biggest boner to pick with him.“

So basically you’re jealous that Ragna gets the girls? Makes sense.

“ I never recognize his existence. Never have. The series has been a colossal heap of mish-mash concepts mixed in with anime drama tropes. Yet, a lot of people in the series don't recognize that. All of which ruined by poor planning and an occupied existence. This has been no exception because I talk to about being against the series as a fact, was a backlash of them showing me how great and awesome it truly is. And that's like talking to a brick here. I'm not braindead guy who suffers from mental retardation who has to live in an asylum for petes sake.”

A. You just did idiot.B. That;s not a bad thingC. people LOVE IT for being a mix mash.D. That argument makes no sense.E. So the complainer is wrong? Good to know I can just ignore you then.And F. That’s an oddly specific example...

“If you want to keep this up with me, then fine. Go right ahead. Build up as much anger as you can until my head ESPLODE. You stick your asses on this franchise, believe it to be some kind god for the whole Arc Sys works, and never again mention a protagonist replacement or a reboot. Cause I'm being clear, this series will never EVER improve. It's all the same shit, different story. And that different story is barely any better from all the crap I've seen from the characters. Nuff said. Peace out.”

Yeah yeah, the usual egotistical hater shtick. You ain’t special.

“P.S. If you're going to say that my stupid ass that brought me here ruined everything or is making you more frustrated. Then believe me, it's pointless to post a review or PM to say that I suck or my logic is ass. And I won't jolt. Ever.”

You say that but I know from experience you people break easily...

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REBEL 3:

“*Places Ragna in a blender and he gets shredded bit by bit, piece by piece until his ass was nothing*“Because this screams “SANITY!”

“AN: Time to get this crap out of the roll... Okay, so there's a lot of media I'm craving to look for. Of course, sometimes, media doesn't just cut for many audiences, via demographics. And I've seen video games and anime do this a lot, especially seinen. Then I played anime video games/visual novels... Ace Attorney, Dragon Ball Xenoverse, Guilty Gear, Trails/Kieseki, and last but most hated of all time. BlazBlue.“So you know why you’re full of shit but you ignore it and keep going? Okay.

“I know what you're thinking, people. Like I really would love to admit, but people have been pulverizing me over my head saying how shit I was to an argument over a franchise that just screams out "FICTION". But no... People point out my hatred for Ragna The Bloodedge. A character that's unique to me in one way of the direction. In BlazBlue, a post-apocalyptic world that's nothing but trouble and people being dicks for crap reasons. Has anyone ever noticed that there is no "real" hero to the story? It's easy. BECAUSE PEOPLE WORSHIP RAGNA THE BLOODEDGE LIKE HE'S SOME SORT OF "ANTI-SUE". A flawed character that gets way too much attention! And Ragna gets all that crap like he's some kind of gold-digger.“

Ragna killed Blazblue’s Satan. ... He’s uh, kind of a hero no matter what you say.Also Noel, Makoto, Jin, Jubei, Hakuman, Tsubaki, Kagura, Celica-We have plenty heroes.

“As much as I really loved the characterization and all that, Ragna ruins the experience for me. I'm not kidding, he really freaking does! He's not even a character, in my book. Let alone a dumbass that can't do anything right because he was trained by someone strong, has a vampire ally/rival and beats out on other things like an impatient chimpanzee. Because hey! That's his character, folks! Ragna isn't Ragna without his edgy, dark past despite it having no emotional value what-so-ever. GODDAMMIT.“A. Rachel isn’t a rival dumbass.And B. He LITERALLY got called out on that shit with Kagura in Chronophantasma and had to become more heroic in order to become a stronger fighter and a better person.

Oh, C. He STILL sacrificed himself for all his friends and family. I do not joke when I saw he’d be Ruby Rose’s idol.

“AND DON'T YOU BRING BANG SHISHIGAMI TO THIS RANT. Bang doesn't count as a hero in my book, he's better off as a supporting character. ALL I WANT FOR THE SERIES TO HAVE IS A REAL HERO. Not this Redcoat wearing jackass that always gets his way done no matter how much he pulls. The story is supposed to be "Black and White". NOT "BLACK AND GRAY"! Sure, there can be some vital exceptions. BUT I DON'T SEE A SINGLE, UTMOST THING, THAT HAS EVER CAME OUT OF BLAZBLUE THAT NEVER CHANGED MY MIND. EVER.”

A. Bang still counts motherfucker, you said ‘hero’ not ;major character’.

B. Hakuman’s right there trying to stab Ragna. C. No it’s suppose to be grey and gray. Mori built it that way. This is his story, not yours.

And D. So you know you’re wrong.

“Keep coming back to me! I don't effing care where it is. You rant, you whine, you even tell me to leave, but no... That all that isn't going to happen. I will be back and in one story... You'll that it is me that's returning. I won't bother arguing about this again. Sure, I've could've talked this through by PM'ing, but "Black and White" morality is always going to my thing. But hey, Fanfiction is all about tryharding! You use canonically made characters to achieve a thing that's worth a damn! Anyways, I got back from my awesome trip to California. Nuff said.”

And guess what motherfucker? I’ll be right here, challenging and fighting you every step of the way! Each time you scream about Canon, I’ll be there to tear it down. Each time you rant about canon, I’ll be there to cut it pieces. This is gonna be a battle of wills between you and I. And guess what? My will is damn near indomitable. Good luck jackass.

But let me send you off, Blazblue style.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSDFR4DoOQQ

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ootori-sibs · 4 years

Text

Summer camp host club 9

"I'm telling you!! It was the monster!!" Tamaki exclaimed, they were all sat with their bowls of pasta, just trying to eat dinner, but Tamaki was standing up, trying to tell them how he'd seen the monster.

Haruhi glanced up at him, rolling her eyes. "You mean you saw a large cat?"

"No!" The king whined, practically stomping his foot. "It was bigger then I am!" He gestures wildly, clearly trying to show the size of the 'monster'.

The twins are clearly ignoring him, just silently eating their food. Mostly done with his nonsense. Honey was listening to him talk, clearly enchanted by the picture of this giant fluffy black cat. Haruhi sighed, she'd had a long day and really didn't have any time for this…

Kyoya finally made his way to the area, his hair a mess and his glasses cracked, it was clear he'd just woken up from a nap. He sat down and looked up at Tamaki. "What are you blabbering on about now?"

"I saw the monster, Kyoya! It was sleeping in the bushes!" Tamaki seemed to be very adamant that that was in fact what he saw, not all too willing to listen to reason. Haruhi noticed how Kyoya's eyes widened slightly, did he believe him?

"That…" The shadow king adjusted his glasses, hopefully preparing to be the voice of reason. "That's utterly ridiculous Tamaki, if the monster was real, why would it rest where it could be found so easily?" His tone was sharp but it was vague, like he wasn't speaking to Tamaki, the question didn't even sound entirely rhetorical… but then he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You were probably asleep yourself."

Haruhi had never considered Kyoya anything other than the voice of reason, the one who believed in logic above all else… but she sensed fear in his voice when he spoke of the monster. Forcing her to face the fact that maybe Kyoya also believes in the monster, maybe he's scared of it. If Tamaki's scared, then Kyoya must force himself to not believe in the terror, although it was becoming clearer and clearer to Haruhi that he took the king's words as gospel. If both monarchs were scared, that doesn't bode well for the rest of the club… it also made Haruhi feel a little different about how Kyoya behaved with Shin when the story was being told… how much of that wasn't an act?

She headed straight to bed after dinner, not wanting to deal with all this nonsense today. She was tired anyway. She'd just finished getting into her pajamas when there was a gentle knock on the cabin door. She went to answer, surprised to see Mori stood there. "Mori?"

"Come." He reaches out, offering her his hand. She tilts her head, curious. Mori had always been an enigma to her, never knowing how he was feeling or what he could be thinking. But he was a comforting presence, and nothing like the headache the rest of the club was. She took his hand, smiling softly up at him, letting him pull her along.

He led her away from the camp, towards the maze. It was dark and he didn't have a torch, neither of them dude. Haruhi was just trusting his knowledge of where they were going, she had no clue. She didn't think twice about putting her trust in him.

They went past the bench however, she hadn't been expecting that, and soon realised she'd never been this far from the camp the entire summer- unless of course you counted the hospital visit. They were walking around the outside of the maze, it was rather large, she found. Eventually they came to a part that seemed too far from the camp to be safe, and Mori let go of her hand.

Haruhi looked up at him, suddenly feeling rather nervous to be out so late. "Are you sure it's safe to be out so far..?" She couldn't believe she was actually scared, she didn't believe in some dumb monster! But… there could be people out here… real people.

Mori just gave a little smile down at her, crouching down to pull back some bushes that already seemed to have grown apart. He gestured through, "go." Haruhi nodded and silently crawled through the hole, finding herself in part of the maze. She understood she wasn't supposed to be in here, but it was such a nice area.

The dirt was worn down in a large circle, there's a worn out old purple blanket crumpled in the corner, making Haruhi wonder who's it was… The bushes were rather pretty, a lovely shade of green. She moved aside to let Mori climb through, they sat opposite each other, legs crossed. Mori took out his phone, switching it on to some soft violin music and an image of a fire, setting it down between them. "Music, Mitsukuni helped pick it out." Haruhi looked at him, then glanced down at the phone, catching a glimpse at the name; lovers moon. She felt her cheeks heat up, looking at Mori in surprise.

"Mori? Senpa-"

"No. I'm not your senpai anymore, Mitsukuni told you."

"Mori…" She sighed softly, the word leaving her lips like a breath. For once, she was the quiet one as he took her cheek in his hand.

"If you want to, you can call me by my name." He smiles a little more, with every second he gained more confidence.

Haruhi sighed once again, her cheeks as red as they could get. "Of course… Takashi…" A name had never felt so precious before, so private. Haruhi felt like she'd been entrusted with a great honour, like her status had risen… in a way it had. She smiled up at him, seeing his own cheeks having gone a light pink.

His hand moved slowly, still cupping her cheek. Haruhi realised what he was trying to do and leant forward willingly, silently giving him permission. But just as they got close enough to feel each other's breath against their lips, a noise was heard, pulling them both out of the moment.

They looked to their side, seeing something Haruhi couldn't pretend was make believe anymore. Huge, with fluffy black fur and ears perked up above it's head, sharp eyes and sharper teeth. It was the beast described, stood staring at them, it's body language spoke of surprise and shock, but all Haruhi could sense was danger. She didn't know what to do, she felt herself frozen in terror, she thought it wasn't real, she thought it wasn't real. She was shaking as she was stared down by the eyes of the beast, it didn't move to kill or even hurt, it seemed just as surprised to see them as she was surprised to see it.

Takashi grabbed her wrist, pulling her back through the hole before picking her up and running full speed towards the camp. Haruhi glanced back to see if she could see the beast but… she couldn't, it simply wasn't chasing them. She tapped Takashi on the shoulder gently, getting him to stop. "We aren't being chased…"

He paused, frowning. "We should still alert them." He continues heading to the camp, just slower now. He doesn't put her down, still clutching her protectively, Haruhi stares up at him, appreciating how he shows his love.

They reached the camp, Tamaki had moved on to telling the councilors about what he saw, Haruhi felt bad for doubting him now…

"I'm telling you! It was sleeping there, just taking an afternoon nap!" He exclaimed, for some reason Mr Hirano was the one who didn't believe him, Tamaki didn't understand how the one who told the story didn't really believe in the monster. Mr Tonnerre, his fellow frenchman, did believe him however, and was solemnly nodding along to the story he told.

"Senpai!" Haruhi's voice rang in her ears, sounding scared… Tamaki's head whipped around to see her, she was being held by Mori, who put her down gently, and allowed her to run towards him. "Senpai you were right! The monster's real!"

There was a gasp echoing from the hosts, and most of the campers who had gotten to know the commoner- if Haruhi believed in something like that, it must be real. Tamaki put his hands on Haruhi's shoulders and stared down at her in concern. "What happened? Are you hurt?" He began to look her over, searching for any injuries.

"I'm fine senpai, I was in the forest and the monster found us." Tamaki didn't have time to question the plural part, assuming she meant Mori had come to her rescue.

Mr Tonnerre interrupted. "Did you lead it here? Was it chasing?" His hand slipped into his coat pocket, eyes full of worry, but Haruhi shook her head.

"No, no it didn't follow us, it didn't even attack. It just stood there, staring at us…" she paused, eyes going wide, "I think we found where it sleeps."

"Was there a blanket?" Tamaki asked, remember what he had found that same afternoon. "A p-"

"Purple blanket," Haruhi finished for him, "yes, yes there was." Tamaki gasped, looking at Mr Tonnerre in excitement, knowing what they'd both found and waiting for the adult to come to a decision.

As he's waiting for the man's words, his eyes wander over to the boys cabin, by the edge of the trees, Kyoya stands in the doorway, watching like he always does. His eyes hidden by a light that is always there when he needs it.

Tamaki's attention is taken by a gunshot, Mr Tonnerre stands, his gun pointed to the sky, a look of determination on his face. "TOMORROW WE SHALL PREPARE, THE NIGHT AFTER TOMORROW SHALL BE THE NIGHT THE MURDERS CEASE!" He calls out to the camp, his wording shaking every camper to their core and making their nerves fizz. "WE'RE GOING MONSTER HUNTING KIDS!" Tamaki looks around at all the campers cheering and hollering, either genuinely excited, or believing this to be part of the experience. He glanced to the cabin, seeing Kyoya has already ducked inside.

Something made Tamaki feel entirely uneasy, was there something he was missing? He was rich, hunting was in his blood wasn't it? So why did the sudden announcement of the monster's execution feel so wrong..?

He headed inside the cabin whilst everyone else spoke of the hunt. At first glance the cabin appeared to be empty, but Tamaki knew better, he began to walk through the cabin, looking for Kyoya. He almost didn't see him, Kyoya was sitting between beds, his knees tucked under his chin, texting on his phone. Tamaki frowned. "Are you ok Kyoya?" He hoped Kyoya wasn't scared…

Kyoya looks up at him. "Oh, I just, I'm just not a fan of… gunshots." He glances away, not meeting Tamaki's eyes. Tamaki knows for a fact that they've watched movies with gunshots in before, Kyoya isn't scared of that. Though he can hazard a guess at what Kyoya is scared of, it's really one of two options; the mob mentality demonstrated by the campers, or the monster itself.

Tamaki sat next to him, wrapping a gentle arm around him. "It's ok Kyoya, you don't have to come if you don't want to. I'll even stay with you if you'd like me to." He watched Kyoya carefully, noticing how Kyoya's cheeks go slightly pink… huh, that's odd.

"It's ok… I'll just stick with Shin, you can go with the others." Kyoya offers a soft, but clearly fake, smile. Tamaki's heart panged at the mention of his rival, where was Shin while Kyoya was sitting here? Out there, likely cheering on the cacophony of gunshots Kyoya didn't want. Tamaki frowned, pulling Kyoya closer.

"You don't have to worry, I don't want to hunt, I wouldn't want to hurt the creature. It hasn't done anything wrong yet, only slept." He was almost shocked to notice how Kyoya's eyes seemed to sparkle as Tamaki spoke, staring at him in… what was that? Tamaki couldn't exactly read this emotion, it almost seemed like awe… In fact Kyoya was leaning into the touch, this was new, this was interesting.

"But weren't you the one that suggested it?" Kyoya's questions surprised Tamaki, he hadn't expected this. "I saw you talking with… Tonnerre." Ah, that name still brought shivers down his spine, and evidently to Kyoya's own.

"Oh no, I was just telling him that I'd seen it, then Haruhi came over and said she'd seen it too…"

"She's dating Mori." Kyoya spoke bluntly. Tamaki felt shocked, surprised even, but what he didn't feel was… sad. He really had moved on huh… he only really felt those sorts of emotions about Kyoya lately.

"That's good." Tamaki spoke honestly, glad his friends had found each other. "He's an honest man, and he deserves someone like Haruhi." He looked at Kyoya with a smile, surprised to see the utter shock on his face, eyes wide, but smiling.

"She was right…" Kyoya uttered softly, gazing into Tamaki's eyes, Tamaki had no idea what he was talking about but his expression was so cute…

"Pardon?" He might as well ask exactly what prompted such an adorable face from mommy dearest, curiously enough his question prompted Kyoya to go a light shade of pink.

"Haruhi had told me you'd moved on from her, I didn't exactly believe her." Oh? They talk about him? That's a nice thought, Tamaki smiles softly.

"Yeah," he started, his heart hammering his chest, "someone else has my heart these days."

"Oh?" Kyoya barely spoke one word, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, somehow the most emotional Tamaki had ever seen him, somehow more powerful than when he screamed.

Tamaki didn't respond, he did something he probably shouldn't have

He kissed Kyoya. On the lips.

#ohshc #kyotama #kyoya ootori #hikaru and kaoru #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #takashi morinozuka #mitsukuni haninozuka #tamaki suoh

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goddamnitdazai · 7 years

Text

Survival is a Process {1}

Characters: Oda Sakunosuke/Mafia!Dazai Osamu (platonic), Port Mafia, Armed Detective Agency, Ango. Rating: Teen and Up Genre: Angst, canon-divergence Pairing: (platonic) Odazai Warnings/Tags: Mentions of suicide, suicide attempts, alcoholism, depictions of violence, canon violence, language. (AO3 link)

Hospital 01 There are little pieces of him everywhere. Carmine splatters clinging to Dazai’s pants and shirt sleeves. The tips of his hair are dip-dyed scarlet, crusted to the back of his neck. His coat, beige and smelling like gunpowder and smoke, sits draped over Dazai’s knees. Two holes frayed at the edges where the sash ties to his waist like two blossoming flowers. Dazai’s hands feel warm from the scrubbing and his bandages are still wet from the sink over flowing. It’s been eight hours now, nine if you count the screaming on the phone and the car ride and the twenty-two minutes Dazai spent with his gun down a doctor’s throat. The blinds are drawn shut but sunlight finds its way through and scatters over the off-white tiles. It’s too bright for him, Dazai thinks, but Dazai can’t move. There’s safety in this miniscule space by the bed. He’s been here since the start and nothing terrible had happened. The thought pushes a sarcastic snort through his chapped lips. Except everything was terrible.

Seconds drag by. The edges of his teeth grind on his bottom lip until it begins to bleed. Hours become unrelenting demons taunting him with deafening silence. Pale fingertips scrape the tattered fabric burnt onyx by two bullets; Dazai can hear metal tearing through the air as his thumb slides over a single burnt thread. Automated machines click in patterns; Dazai has them memorized. Dripping IV fluids become environmental reminders that Odasaku is still breathing. Plastic tubes stretch from his dry, spit caked mouth down to a mess of wires and lines hardwired into boxed machinery. Up and down and up and down the life line of luminescent green bounces to the drumbeat of a broken heart (still alive). Dazai loses control of his breathing and gags on oxygen. Trembling lips fight to inhale; the memory of smoke and charred flesh returns like a reel of an old horror film stuck on a loop. Dazai’s fingers curl to his palm at the sound of his cell phone ringing for the tenth time in half an hour. The garbage can rattles against the floor as the phone drops, he should have crushed the thing. Yet the consistent ringing battering against his over-sensitive ears poses as a miniscule distraction. Moments slip away too quickly; within a minute the quiet beeping of medical devices consumes the air. Dazai fidgets and switches his left leg with his right. The ball of his foot bounces over the tile. Exhaustion tugs at him to close his eyes just for a minute. But what if he dies while I’m sleeping? He can’t hold on to air. Fervency causes his fingers to shake as he pulls the black tie from his neck. Dazai counts the tiles on the floor, but his heart refuses to fall back to a natural rhythm. He can feel the overstrained muscle pounding in his ears. Bloodshot eyes flit from corner to corner; Dazai tries to laugh at himself—his throat is too dry. Anxiety crawls on him, leeches. He can feel them holding on to his skin, scurrying beneath his bandages, making his heart beat louder. It’s a war drum pounding in his head. The taste of blood fills his mouth, his bottom lip is throbbing. The muscles in his legs squeeze as he eyes the corner of the bathroom. If he moves the world will end. Bile rumbles in his stomach. It’s been twelve hours; he can’t feel his entire body. The edges of the world start to shimmer. He counts the spots of colors rapidly changing in front of him. Part of him, a quiet part that used to rule the forefront of his mind, tells him to breathe—there’s no oxygen going to your brain, you’re going to pass out. Dazai tries to pull the voice forward. Reality has become unrecognizable. He reaches for Odasaku’s hand as his head falls to the fluffy white blanket covering his friend’s lower half. Odasaku’s fingers twitch under the touch. Dazai counts to five, exhale. The mattress groans but Dazai can no longer hold himself upright. There is a weight resting on Dazai’s chest trying to drag him down like quicksand. Immovable, untouchable, unrelenting. A hand reaches to touch the back of his neck. Instinct screams at him to move, but there is no strength left in his legs. Half-heartedly he reaches for the gun at his side. The nurse backs away at the sight of metal. Dazai smirks a bit as his hand falls to his side, empty. “You should rest s-“ “I don’t want to hear your voice unless you have information on why he hasn’t woken up yet.” Dazai says coldly. ______________________ He counts the tiles again, but by twos this time. Then four, and then he counts backwards from the bathroom towards the front of the room. The door shuts quietly; nothing has changed. He shifts his knees up to his chest as he counts. He’s far too tall to fit comfortably like this, but he can’t stand the way the cold hospital floor feels under his feet. Brilliant orange fills the window as violet trickles down from the highest part of the sky. Odasaku once mentioned he loved this time of day, the combination of remaining daylight and growing twilight. Brilliant swirls of dark blue contrasting through puffy cotton-candy clouds—Dazai couldn’t understand his fascination with it. Odasaku was never one to prattle on about the vitality of a sunset (he mentioned it once but Dazai changed the subject), yet his nature to stare in awe at the swirling hues did not leave him. Silently as they walked Odasaku would glance up every few minutes at the sky until the moon hung lover over the city. Dazai always thought it was the alcohol that fueled Odasaku’s child-like lust for a painted sky of oranges and blues. But now he wondered if his friend just enjoyed something brilliantly simple, and Dazai was not a good enough friend to listen. Dazai was the mouth piece, that fact he knew, but it never occurred to him the bulk of conversations revolved around Dazai’s subject of choice. Relentlessly picking on Chuuya, over-dramatizing situations where he nearly died (he waited and waited but it never happened), the affections of a woman he met at a bar the previous night. There was an endless list of things forever growing in the back of Dazai’s mind, but he couldn’t pinpoint when that list first formulated. He could recall the first time he bothered Chuuya about his hat when they were younger, and it made the boy turn red instantly. Chuuya punched him hard in the stomach (Kouyou made him apologize right after). It had been the first time Chuuya talked to him on his own volition. He was shy, quiet, and always hiding behind Kouyou especially when Mori was around. At times Chuuya would wander through the hallways but never spark conversation, and he called Dazai weird one time under his breath. He liked the way Chuuya’s face strained when he was angry; he could understand it. And so he kept going and going and going. So much that now Dazai could map out the way Chuuya’s eyes narrow when he’s really angry, or how one brow twitches when he’s trying not to let Dazai get under his skin. At least it was something—he was a person to Chuuya; even if Chuuya hated the person he was. Forced partners, but it was okay sometimes. Mori never showed the slightest bit of emotion on his features regardless of what happened; except once. The knife in his hand glimmered beneath the moonlight, and his eyes had grown just as wide as the source of the light. Dazai watched his face contort to a man who had finally found the grasp of power he’d been searching for. His motive, his movements, they were calculated down to the finest detail. Mori knew Dazai would never speak of this, yet he found it necessary to mention it aloud. His voice was cold iron against Dazai’s skin. It had been the first and last time Mori made his skin crawl. There was nothing left after that—Mori and himself weren’t people, to each other, to most. Prodigy and master, as expected from Dazai (the demon). That was okay, he supposed. Odasaku—he was simple; but Dazai still found him puzzling. The sheer blasé words that came from his mouth sounded incredibly strange given his background. A man in the Port Mafia, a killer who chose to stop, to adopt orphans, to be good. But, he still rested on the side of darkness. He drank with the prodigy of Yokohama’s criminal elite, but spilled no blood. An oddity of the Port Mafia, like Dazai, perhaps this is what fused them. But, Dazai could never understand the motives behind pure selflessness. What it felt like to breathe life for someone else, for anything else, was not something Dazai bothered to miss. For as long as he could remember he never had a thing in the world to hold close to his heart. What would he even want? Humans were endlessly selfish, and that he understood. The logistics of self-elevating, self-serving. Of winning. Dazai always won—he was good at it. Perhaps Odasaku’s simplicity allowed him to choose the manner in which he lived, or maybe he was too good at hiding from people who would have taken him in. Would Mori have brought him to the Port Mafia if he’d found Odasaku at that age? Dazai shivers at the thought of a young Odasaku covered in blood with empty eyes staring back at him. Would he have seen past Dazai’s demonic reputation? Doubtful. Their encounter was chance, or fate, because fate was always an incredibly cruel beast. Weakness is not a familiarity. The waning strength in his shoulders and ache in his back do nothing but irritate him even more. As the clock ticks forward Dazai’s mind continues to dwindle down to a blank canvas. The simplest of movements take extreme amount of energy to even put forth minimal effort. Heavy ink-colored bags hang below his eyes. It’s close to ten pm. He fights the urge to glance towards the garbage where he’d thrown his phone earlier. Surprisingly it had remained eerily silent, and none of Mori’s subordinates had stopped to talk to Dazai or tell him to leave. Nobody had come by at all. It was better this way. Just the two of them suspended in time; waiting and waiting and waiting. Dazai’s arms cross over each other as he leans his cheek onto his left wrist, elbows expanded over Odasaku’s stomach. For a man who’d been sleeping for over a day, Odasaku looks overly exhausted. Even from a distance Dazai can see the drooping beneath his eyes like someone had come and tugged the skin hard enough to permanently alter its elasticity, leaving behind saggy darkened bags. Instead of his usual soft expression there is a hardened furl of his bottom lip that drags wrinkles across his chin. The look he wore, a man with anger and with guilt, when he left Dazai in the parking lot of the restaurant remains etched in his features even as he sleeps. Fragile moonlight streaks over Dazai’s back illuminating the gentle rise and fall of Odasaku’s chest. The warmth from his skin begins to lull Dazai into a half-sleep, but something inside him snaps. A siren, a rush of fear sweeping him up like a tidal wave pulling him to the blackest part of the ocean. Air is sucked from his lungs leaving him gasping with trembling shoulders and enclosed hands. Nails dig crescent moons into his palm; get a fucking grip. Dazai counts the ticking of the clock by twos until his vision levels out and the fog clogging his mind dissipates. He matches every miniscule inhale with Odasaku’s until their heartbeats syncopate. Memories fade in and out like ghosts. Dazai’s state wavers on the line of conscious dreaming and exhaustion. He can hear the music playing softly through the worn speakers. Low hanging lights casting a halcyon glow over the amber liquid swirling in his glass. Ango’s blood-red tomato juice filling the cup; Odasaku’s genuine interest in Dazai’s experience with a machinegun mounted truck. The picture they took resides in his pocket still; he can hear it crinkle as he slumps further on to Odasaku’s stomach. Haunting him. Fueling him to burn the entire city to the ground. The scent of death mixes with whisky. Ango’s office felt musty and dark. Rows and rows of books neatly organized on shelves with far too much dust collecting on the edges. Odasaku let Dazai prattle on about Ango’s odd habits without rolling his eyes or telling him to quit. Ango’s nose scrunched up the closer Dazai got to his desk. Immediately Ango furled back into his chair shouting that he smelled terrible and how could he go to a bar with all this work? But what if he smelled like us? Odasaku played Dazai’s game happily (even if it was childish). Their tab was enormous and the night was warm. Summer had sprawled over the city and Dazai had thrown his jacket in Odasaku’s fridge before passing out on the couch. “Because he is my friend.” Mori’s eyes narrow but every other detail remains upright. He can see through Dazai’s bandages and skin and façade of childlike antics as the cogs in his mind start churning. Problem solving was something Mori enjoyed unfolding. Like a paper crane deconstructed back to its original form. Dazai worked backwards from the simple words Mori spoke to the events from days and days before. Sunlight burns red over Yokohama. Dazai’s men drive too slowly for his liking. His heart pounds as his shoes smack against blood soaked tile. The scent of metal and burning flesh overtakes the natural musk of the forest. Heat scorches up his back and constricts his throat; a ball of smoke lodges itself in his lungs. Door after door there are bodies littered on the floor wailing in pain, calling out to him, to Gide, to death. Shards of glass decorate the floor in shimmering glitter as the moonlight gleams in from the cracked skylight. “He is my friend.” Dazai jolts upright. Panicked hands crawl to Odasaku’s stomach and his chest, eyes strained and blurry from fighting against relenting darkness. His lips tremble, the name falling from them as though the mere utterance of it would send the entire world crashing down on him. The resonating beep from the monitor does little to satiate Dazai’s blossoming anxiousness. He only recoils his hands after counting Odasaku’s heartbeat twelve times. Two am and there is no more light peeking through the blinds. Shadows overlap as Dazai’s eyes adjust to the darkness. He buries his head on Odasaku’s stomach once more. Cheek turned slightly to feel muscle twitches and radiating thumps of his heart pumping blood through his organs. His eyes retrace Odasaku’s wearied expression. A good man forgives, and Odasaku was a good man. Better than Dazai could ever hope to be. There would be no situation in the entire world where Odasaku would not have stopped Dazai from chasing revenge. He would have stalled him, stopped him, helped him. Dazai was not a man of righteousness or selfless acts of kindness. He was not the type to see pain and reach out to help. Instead he allowed his friends to blindly go and rely on their own skill, much like Dazai relied on his own skill to keep him alive (ironic). Dazai was not a good friend to Odasaku. He was not a good man; he was not a good person (or a person at all). Bred into darkness with sadism threaded in his blood. Their friendship was neither fate nor chance it was a fluke in every way possible. Blossoming only to wither and die on the vine. Had he chosen to follow instead of retreat they could have ended their lives together, but even the thought of lying with Odasaku in death’s grip did not sit well in his stomach. Self-sacrifice was not in Dazai’s nature either. Born to play puppet master in a devil’s playground. What else could he possibly offer Odasaku? He was never bothered by it all. By the radiating sadistic nature in which Dazai performed. The Spartan-like training Dazai heaved at his subordinates and their casual disposal when their talents never came to fruition. Friendship was unethical, but the truest form of care. Or, what Dazai presumed was the care from one human to another. A gentle breeze following a storm; a radiant glow of new life forming after a fire destroys an entire acre of land. Perhaps this mixture of the two of them sought to balance out the roles of their paths; but all that seemed entirely too simple of an explanation. No, Dazai thinks, there is nothing deeper than the random encounter of two men finding themselves in the same place at the same time. Then why did it feel like a hundred knives were plummeting into Dazai’s chest at the thought of never meeting Odasaku? The image of him writing Dazai off as an annoying, pessimistic devil built for nothing but destruction? King of death, ruler of Yokohama’s underworld. He did not rightfully merit Odasaku’s unfathomable devotion. Wandering aimlessly to the void of nothing, searching for any retched sliver of something to grasp, only for it to be pulled from him the moment he discovers its worth. This was the end he’d always seen, always experience. He deserved it; but Odasaku did not deserve this ending. Pained sobs clog up his chest. Teeth burrow to the bottom of his lip and tear open old scars from hours before. A mess of exhaustion and turmoil Dazai flattens his face against the blanket and bites at his lip. His toes curl inside his shoes as every muscle contracts. Exhaustion tapers off to vehemence. Teeth grind hard enough to crack. The barrel of his gun is beginning to look extremely appetizing. Odasaku begins to cough. The tube down his throat chokes him; Dazai freezes. A world stuck in slow motion abruptly speeds up. Dazai feels dizzy as he stumbles from the chair to press the button to call a nurse. They swarm him. Without realizing Dazai walks backwards towards the window, the chair he’d been residing in for a day left on its side near the doorway. Saliva drips from the clear tube as it’s pulled from Odasaku’s throat. Silence is broken by questions and strained coughs. Nurses move like ethereal beings leaving trails of their existence like blurred starlight. Dazai sinks to his knees. The door shuts behind the last nurse as she reminds Odasaku to rest. Bandages cover his upper half and wrap lazily down his right arm. A new scar buried under stitches sits on his left cheek. Odasaku’s eyes are hauntingly empty. For once Dazai is hyperaware of the sound of his own breathing. Like a child discovering movement Odasaku experimentally wiggles his fingers. His eyes roam over his legs; Dazai swallows a lump in his throat and averts his eyes to the clock hanging on the wall. Four am. Odasaku peers at Dazai as if he’s trying to reconstruct him from the ground up. Piece by piece memories reconnect like building blocks. Dazai watches the way his eyes grow from grey, hollowed ashes to burning whips of emotion. Odasaku’s back straightens. Dazai can’t figure out how to move back to his feet. Hidden instinct forces Dazai to reach his hand forward though the distance between them leaves nothing but space for his fingers to touch. Shadows blindly run over Odasaku’s face leaving slivers of fading moonlight striped down his torso from the blinds. His eyes bore into Dazai’s but he’s looking passed him, at something, at nothing. His voice is heavy and raw, it scrapes over Dazai’s ears. “You should have let me die.”

#odazai #Oda Sakunosuke #dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #odazai fic #odazai angst #i rise from the grave to bring y'all this new series #whoops #my writing #SIAP #bsd fanfic #odasaku #dazai #dazai and the dark era #platonic odazai #SO MUCH ANGST BYE

114 notes · View notes

izanyas · 7 years

Note

oh!!! oh!!! for the skk prompts (if you're still doing it) would you mind doing a "meet the fam" one if that's not too terribly difficult?

probably not exactly what you expected but this reminded me hardcore of Owe No Debt so i couldn’t resist writing one of the extra scenes that didn’t make it to the story.

warning for very vague references to abuse.

–

“I don’t care what Ace said,” Dazai drawled, looking over the boxes full of apples in front of him. “If he wants me to handle that mess he’ll have to take it up with Mori.”

The man next to him, one of Ace’s underlings—though slave might be the right word, considering the awful collar—whimpered pathetically. Dazai hadn’t paid much attention to his surroundings since getting to the marketplace, so he had no idea if he was even being watched. He technically didn’t have anything pressing to do for the day, and it had only taken one of Chuuya’s disgusted glances at how pale and sickly he knew he looked to decide that he might as well go out.

He’d been doing a lot of that lately, trying to make Chuuya’s opinion of him shift somehow, for better or worse. He couldn’t quite stop thinking about the way Chuuya had looked a few weeks ago, stepping into one of Akutagawa’s training sessions to carry a message and blanching, almost freezing at the sight of what they were doing.

Dazai frowned at the apple he was holding, dismissing the heavily annoyed glance that its seller was giving him. He didn’t think he’d been standing there that long, but obviously, he’d missed some time again.

“Please, Dazai-sama,” Ace’s man said once more.

It could’ve garnered some pity if Dazai had any pity left in him.

“No,” he replied. He handed money over to the vendor lazily, taking a bite of the apple. It was the sharp, acidic kind, the one he liked best. All the others were too sweet.

The man shot him one last dark glance. Dazai gave it back with a hollow smile.

Then he leaned into the handyman’s side a whispered, “Now get out of here before I kill you,” into his ear.

He didn’t have to repeat himself.

Dazai leaned against the back of the open truck. With its rows of colorful fruit, it looked a little like a great gutted beast, would have painted a gloomier picture if not for the rush of people walking in front of it. He ate the rest of the apple without tasting much of it, contenting himself with glancing over the boring faces around him. He amused himself for a moment by imagining each of them as human, as living creatures. His mind strained at the effort, though. He didn’t know anyone on this side of town, had come here precisely because of it—the fact that Ace had sent someone on his tail just to ask him to fix the entire drug bust mess he had made with the police two days ago irritated him.

Someone bumped into him from the side, and the apple fell from his hand.

“I’m sorry,” said a voice—a woman’s voice, he confirmed, meeting its owner’s eyes.

Something about them made the sick-sweet retort building on his lips halt.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, peering at her.

“Oh, I’m so—” she seemed to fret for a second, looking between his hands and the fallen apple—“let me buy you another, I’m so sorry—”

“Miss, it’s fine. I was almost done with it.”

He was used to people getting nervous around him, but never quite that way. The woman obviously wasn’t scared of him—the chance that she even knew him was so slim as to be nonexistent—but she looked like she was scared of something anyway. There was a nervousness to her that felt very familiar. As if she was ready to jump out of her own skin.

Dazai looked her over for a second longer. She could have been anywhere between forty and fifty years; short, black-haired, sporting that same slightly-disheveled long cut that all mothers seemed to have. Her face was very lovely. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her in his life.

Yet there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. A drag of old suspicion in his belly.

“Please let me buy you a new one,” she said, bowing lightly.

Well. It wasn’t as if Dazai had anything better to do.

He followed after her toward the side of the truck-shop. Its owner seemed about as unhappy to see him now as he had been the first time, though he smiled at the woman. Probably because she bought a whole lot of other things, on top of the apple.

Dazai took it from her with a whispered thank you, which she waved off nervously.

“Do you come here often, then?” he asked, when it looked as though she was ready to walk away from him.

He didn’t want to let her go before figuring out why she intrigued him.

The woman flicked a nervous glance to his face. Dazai could only thank coincidence that he hadn’t been injured there in a while; he was free of cuts or bruises, both eyes open to the light of day. He knew he looked younger than his height made him out to be—the women seemed to notice it as well, and something flickered over her face, aching brightly for a second, before she finally relaxed.

“I live just up the street,” she said. “Are you—not from around here?”

“I’m not. My name is Dazai, by the way.”

“Fuku,” she replied. She didn’t offer a last name. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lovely to meet you too,” he muttered in answer.

He couldn’t stop looking at her face. The was something—the shape of her eyes, the structure of it… She withstood his scrutiny with good grace, though he could tell that she was growing uncomfortable by the second. It was understandable; she was a woman, shorter and frailer than him, standing here behind the thick of the market as he stared at her like a creep. And he had never been very good at making people feel anything but scared or angry in his presence anyway. Only Odasaku, Ango, and Chuuya ever viewed him as something worth more than fear and hatred.

“I’m sorry,” he let out, looking away at last. It cost him to have to ask, but he did it anyway. “Say—have we ever met somewhere before?”

“I don’t—I don’t think so,” Fuku replied. Her voice was faint.

“I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“I really don’t think so, Dazai-kun.” She added, “I think I would have remembered you.”

Most people did.

Still, that was disappointing. Dazai let his interest fade into boredom once more. It was out of habit and nothing more that he told her, “I must have seen you in a dream and wished to meet you again, then. You’re very beautiful.”

There was a second of silence; then Fuku snorted, something loud and entirely different than he would have expected out of a timid-looking person like her—he couldn’t help but look again as her lips lifted, as she replied, “You’re a little too young for me, boy. Even if I wasn’t married.”

Her smile wasn’t at all timid. It grew boyish on her, hesitant but frank, not at all the gentle curve of the mouth that he had waited for. It looked so out of place. It made her eyes thin and dimple. It twisted sideways, a little, as if she didn’t know how to do it more gently.

Dazai knew that smile.

“Married,” he repeated through a haze.

There was no way. There was no way. He had spent months looking back then, almost an entire year trying to figure it out, there was no way the answer had been sitting here this entire time—

“Do you have kids?” he asked, controlled, polite. As if he was making small talk and nothing more.

She had all of his active interest now.

Her smile faded naturally. So naturally that anyone less observant than him would have missed the old shadow in her eyes, would not have associated it to the hint of permanent sleeplessness that her makeup hid poorly. “I have two,” she replied.

“How old?”

Fuku’s mouth shook for a second.

“The youngest is only three,” she said eventually. “The oldest…”

Her struggle was too obvious for him not to make note of it. If he said nothing, it would become suspicious. “Oh,” he intoned, in what he hoped was a compassionate enough voice. “I’m sorry.”

He felt greedy.

She shook her head at him, immediately bothered by the thought of imposing on him. “No, I, I shouldn’t speak of it to a stranger—you’re so young.” Her words were soft as she said it. Her gaze struck with misery as it washed over him. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” he answered.

“Seventeen,” she repeated. Like the number was haunting her.

They fell silent for a moment. There was no way Dazai would let her go without prying every detail he could out of her and confirm what he already knew, giddy, at the hollow of his heart; but he couldn’t insist so obviously without startling her.��

It was a surprise when she raised her head and asked, “Would you like to come over for tea?”

She sounded a little desperate, a little aloft with nostalgia. Loss was so strikingly present on her, grief breathing out of her every word, that it was a wonder she could speak without crying. That she could laugh at all. Her shoulder shook once as she awaited his answer. Dazai was so familiar with the gesture—made in nervousness or irritation or sometimes, the most wonderful times, embarrassment—that he had to restrain an outright grin.

“I would love to,” he said darkly.

She smiled at him again with a hopelessness made habit by the years; and in every line of her face, grieved and stubborn, Dazai saw Chuuya.

#bsd #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #tumblr fic #fic: owe no debt #anon #answered #i ended up deleting the second half of this bc it stands better just like this

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hansolmates · 7 years

Text

wonwoo; days in the sun

part 1/? of svt!disney au inspired by this thread

feat. beast!Wonwoo x bibliophile!reader (FINALLY WROTE A WONWOO!!)

genre: beauty and the beast au, fluff/romance, slight flangst

word count: 2123

Snow dipped between the crevices of the hand-painted French windowpane, thousands of scintillating diamonds icing against the frosted glass. The snowflakes further out melted instantaneously upon meeting the cobblestone of the castle. She briefly wondered how exactly warm this castle was from the inside, considering from the outside the tower much resembled a memento mori in their iota of a desolate kingdom.

Her nails dragged away with a subconscious slowness from the glass as she backed away from the window, turning her head to her sleeping patient.

The Beast, in all aspects of the title, left kids restless and the elderly quaking like dead leaves in their slippers. These past couple of weeks however, have left her mind spinning like a wind-up music box, surreal and never-ending. The night before, the Beast in his infamous glory, saved her and her horse from a pack of vicious wolves. She was unscathed, however at the expense of the Beast’s shoulder marred to shreds, the matted dusk hair ripped apart to reveal tender pink flesh. The skin healed at a magically impressive rate thank goodness, but the raw skin appeared with a heart-breaking familiarity, the way a newborn human’s complexion would appear from the womb, full of life and hope.

It’s his fault she reasoned to herself, it’s his fault he’s injured. He shouldn’t have tried to save me when I was trying to run away from him!

But if it wasn’t for him, she’d probably wouldn’t be alive to complain at this very moment. With a torn huff she plopped in the small stool next to his bedside, fiddling with the hem of her pale azure skirt. Holding a palm to cover the sunlight that was blinding her eyes from the window opposite, she recited her favorite novel to keep her occupied.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged—”

“What in high heavens are you doing?”

The once familiar words died like cinders in her throat as she watched the Beast shuffle in the sheets to a fitful awakening. The wooden bed frame creaked and groaned in protest as the Beast attempted to sit himself up.

Flying from her chair, she propped up some pillows and tucked them under his large form, causing the down feather to crush like breadcrumbs under the immense weight. Fetching a glass of water from the nightstand, she pressed the cool glass to his lips until all the liquid was gone. “Are you alright?” she asked, watching him for any signs of pain.

“I’m fine,” he replied, his gravely voice echoing throughout the large bedroom. “But you still didn’t answer my question. What are you doing?”

Furrowing her brows together she replied pointedly, “I was trying to orate a passage from my favorite novel when you so rudely interrupted me.”

He scoffed, the low growl haunting her form in ways that the people of her town would never be able to define. “Good thing I did.”

Liquid fire burned in her eyes, more than ready to defend herself in the only activity which kept her sane: literature. “Excuse you, If you knew anything about a good book you wouldn’t dare insult the first lines of Austen’s greatest work! It is a truth universally acknowledged—”

“That a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” he drolled with an eyeroll, throwing the sheets off his form. “However little known the feelings and blah blah blah.”

She couldn’t even process the that he was treating her favorite novel like a piece of moldy cheese, due to the sheer fact that he had memorized the same lines she used to spend hours aching over. Her anger melted away in an instant, excited tingles shivering up her spine at the fact that finally there was someone to talk about Pride and Prejudice to. “Wait, you’ve read Jane Austen?” she asked, her lips parted in awe.

If the Beast could smirk, he didn’t show the small smugness that wormed to his form as he faced the window. He had her attention. “More of had her novels shoved into my brain a couple eons over. Sense and Sensibility was particularly difficult to swallow.” he noted bitterly, getting into a standing position. She was about to hold him steady when he wobbled on his hinds, but he held up a paw to stop her. “I’m fine. But you look a little disturbed, are your worried that I’m challenging your intellect?”

Her mouth parted in surprise, “Are you trying to tease me?” she asked incredulously.

The Beast shrugged half-heartedly in response, motioning for her to follow him.

Instead of following his tracks, she made it a show to walk side-by-side. It was particularly enerving, because his strides were terribly long and she was terribly small in comparison to his form. But she made sure to take note that this room was indeed too large as they walked farther from the canopy bed, almost a quarter of this castle’s East Wing, and it made her subconsciously calculate exactly how mad he had gone all these years living in such a lonely castle.

Her eyes trained on the door that was in the innermost side of the bedroom, away from the room’s main entrance. It was a beautifully painted door, with carved silver bands intertwined between the edges and emeralds lining the knobs. The Beast took no cause to her intent staring and pushed the door with a deliberate slowness. It creaked from lack of use, but nevertheless opened, the light letting in like a fond friend.

The Beast moved aside, nodding his head to let her enter first. It was common courtesy to let a the lady inside first, but a little part of him regretted that lesson as soon as he heard her gasp echo throughout the room. It was like her air had filled into his heart and made it as whole as it could possibly be, he wished he could have seen her reaction.

The castle library. Her fingers that were once ruffled between her apron were now openly fussing against her sides, itching to hold a novel. But there were tens, hundreds, no thousands! There were ladders that spanned three tiers of shelves, the white French windows were letting in light like a beacon as they reflected over the lacquered wood and gold-trimmed spines.

“Are you alright?” the Beast asked, his chest feeling lighter as her face lit up through every facet of the book-lined walls. “You look, overwhelmed.”

She snapped her head to his, biting her lip. “I’m, fine. I’m quite fine, actually.” she managed to blurt out, her voice strained with excitement.

“Then why aren’t you picking something out?”

“I don’t even know where to start.” she couldn’t help but gush, turning away to spin across the atrium of the library.

“Well, you can start with the basics.” and he bounded over to the first shelf in the line, pulling out a novel and pressing it to her eager arms.

Her brows quirked in surprise. “This, is a romance.” she remarked, hiding her grin by holding the play up to her lips.

If it were possible, he’d be blushing profusely. “It’s a tragedy.” he replied pointedly.

“It’s Romeo and Juliet.”

“Exactly.” he said, pulling out two more novels and placing it on the nearby desk. “Rushed relationships and suicide are definitely tragic.”

“I didn’t peg you as a romance lover.”

“I didn’t think you’d peg me to be much of anything to you.”

The playful retort stuck in her throat as she watched him turn away in shame, fussing over the books and removing the layers of dust with puffs of air. Her curiously ached to be fed, and she settled with a question. “Have you really read all these books?” she asked quietly, so quiet as if the echoes in her voice could dampen the sheer perfection of the library.

“More times than you can imagine.” he placed two more books on the desk, looked down at her petite form. “If you like this place so much, it’s yours.” and if his large teeth could allow the small smile that wormed its way onto his mouth, it was there.

This room was like a new side to the Beast that she could have never imagined. And he said it was hers! Her eyes widened in shock, the grip on the novel white-tight. “Mine?” she whispered airily, unable to find her voice.

“Yes, and if you’ll excuse me,” he coughed awkwardly, turning on his heel. “I must get some rest. Feel free to explore the room, and there’s—”

“Thank you, Wonwoo.”

His pupils dilated, not that he knew the nature of his eyes would indicate any sign of him feeling more than the despondent emotions of sadness and anger. This was far more overwhelming, far more confusing than any other feeling he had ever experienced in all his years. “You’re welcome.” he murmured, straightening his back.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Wonwoo.” she said it again, said his name. She said it so easily, and treated it like the sweetest of honeys. No Prince Jeon Wonwoo or any other silly title his blood had to account for, but simply Wonwoo.

He could only manage a nod of his head and turned around before he could ask to stay with her. This was more than enough for now, more than he could have ever asked for. He let the door open a crack, and waited. In a matter of seconds, he had to fight the chuckle that wanted to bubble as he heard her excited squeal echo throughout the library.

From the other side, she felt like a little kid in a patisserie, free to pick the confection her choosing. She stumbled like a newborn over the thousands of books in hundreds of languages, smiling so much it hurt. It wasn’t until she got to the very back of the library (which was a feat in itself) she had to stop because her feet were starting to ache. Digging her toes in the hardwood, her eyes gravitated to the only part of the library that wasn’t covered in books. Instead, they were filled with portraits.

It was a wonder of fate that she was eye-to-eye with the single portrait of Jeon Wonwoo. The painting was almost too regular next to the broad family pictures that spanned the brittle walls, but nevertheless stood out to her like she was already meant to know what he looked like before all of this ever occurred. Her hands rested on the cherry dyed table that separated her from the portrait, and she had to lean her face centimeters from the picture to get a good focus on his image.

Wonwoo was conventionally handsome in another life. Dressed in stiff sleeves that were too puffy and pants in an incredibly tight and outdated fashion, the corner of the portrait was signed a number of years ago and lended to the time this portrait was conceived. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Wonwoo reading these books in the nooks and crannies of the shelves. The ebony hue of his bangs falling over his face, his liquid oakwood eyes filled with innocence and a drive to learn boring into the pages until he fell asleep slumped against the desks. Today, she saw this version of Wonwoo. The handsome look that took over his features when he pulled out his favorite books, and the enjoyment he got out of sharing his favorites to someone who’d appreciate reading as much as he did.

She didn’t realize the mantle clock hiding between the yellowed papers of the desk until it popped out like a little firecracker, dancing in her line of view and blocking the portrait. She squeaked in surprise, clutching her chest.

“Soonyoung!” she cried, mentally willing for her cheeks to cool down. “Were you here all this time?”

The little clock scratched jumped in agreement. “Yeah. So, dinner?” it teased excitingly, little wooden pads dancing against the desk.

Her blush only got to a rapid-fire warmth at the realization he was watching her openly staring at Wonwoo’s portrait, and overheard their conversation. “It’s just dinner.” she huffed, smacking him none-too-gently with the copy of Romeo and Juliet. She couldn’t help the mischievous smirk when its hands spun in circles, until falling back in the stationary place of 10:10. That’s the consequences of eavesdropping. “Now, if you’d excuse me I have some reading to do.”

The enchanted clock watched in awe as he watched the castle’s belle ami saunter away into the sunlit area of the library, with a little more pep in her step than the way she walked away from them last night. “A little more than just dinner.” he proudly declared to himself, puffing out his clock face. With a nod towards Prince Wonwoo’s portrait, he hobbled off the counter with the intent to tell the others of what wondrous events have just occurred in their Prince’s time of healing.

More than books, more than dinner, in fact there may have been something there that wasn’t there before.

#wonwoo #seventeen #kwritersnet #svtcreations #svtnetwork #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fic #jeon wonwoo #seventeen scenarios #disney au #seventeen disney au #seventeen headcanon #wonwoo headcanon

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