#and then he doesn't want to do the emotional work

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: that sinking feeling that's been looming over you both has finally come to fruition. truths are revealed, questions are answered, but one big one remains: is love enough for you and dazai's relationship to survive this?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy fridayyyyy, i can't believe we only have one chapter left of civzai, it's actually makin me emotional </3 this chapter was quite a doozy to write, and i hope it's equally a doozy to read HAHAH no no jkjk , i hope you enjoy. also do u guys want to add an arcane au to the dazaiverse .. ive been thinking heavily about it. comments & reblogs appreciated

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. angsty chapter. explicit depiction of suicide (past recollection of dazai), implications of past self-harm (dazai), very toxic thought processes at certain parts (dazai), past (and a bit of current) suicide ideation (dazai), manic behavior (reader).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“I’ve been eager to meet you for quite a while. In all of the years I’ve known her, my little hime has never let something as trivial as a boy come between her and our work… I knew you must be special, but I never could’ve imagined just how special. I’m so pleasantly surprised.”

Dazai’s head throbs as he comes to his surroundings. He’s laying in an uncomfortable bed—a hospital bed, he thinks, he can smell the unfortunately familiar scent of antiseptic, but the walls aren’t the typical white he’s used to. He winces as he sits up, unable to recall where he is or what happened to him. Everything is too fuzzy, he remembers being with Fitzgerald, the car ride to the tea house, and-

And he remembers you. 

He remembers you.

He lets out a shaky breath as he recalls the way you’d pulled him into your arms, cradling him close as soon as you got him back from Fitzgerald. God, he only got to be with you for what felt like a second. It wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t nearly enough time. You sent him off, he remembers—you sent him with two of your subordinates, the weretiger and that freaky little girl, and then… 

“Shhh… Don’t speak. I want to get this done and over with.”

The gun to his back, Atsushi and Kyouka’s cries of shock, the baton to his head.

“No can do, weretiger. On orders from the boss.”

His mind tracks back to the words that had been spoken as he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, mouth going dry and eyes widening as he becomes acutely aware of the other person in the room with him. His gaze flicks up to where a vaguely familiar man sits at a desk watching him—straight chin-length black hair, inquisitive purple eyes, a long black coat, Dazai isn’t sure where he recalls this man from but he knows that they’ve met before. 

“Who…” Dazai asks, voice wavering as pain shoots through his head with every little movement. “Who are you? Have we… met before?”

His wrist hurts. His mother’s nails dig into his skin so deep that it draws blood, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d just been sleeping—is he still sleeping? He isn’t sure. He’s stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with her, he keeps asking her what’s going on but she doesn’t answer him. 

They turn a hall and his mother stops so suddenly that he slams right into her, nearly tripping over onto the ground. He doesn’t even regain his footing before his mother is pulling him back the way he came, he looks over his shoulder trying to figure out what caused his mother to panic so badly and he looks at—a man? 

Who is that? 

Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?

Is that-

Blood?

“Shuji! Shuji, don’t look back! Keep moving!”

Shuji? Who’s Shu-

“I think you know the answer to that already.” Dazai is startled out of the memory—was that a memory?—by the man’s voice. He sounds amused, and from the way that his eyes are glittering, Dazai can tell he’s finding great entertainment out of this situation. It pisses Dazai off. “Don’t you?”

“Tane-chan, you know you won’t be able to hide him forever. You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

Dazai’s breath catches. He shifts backward on the bed to press his back against the wall. Everything is wrong—the air is too cold, his bandages are itching, his head hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. Who is Shuji? Why is he thinking of his mother after all of these years? And what… what was he remembering? 

Memories of his youth have always been sparse and fleeting—he can vaguely recall the faces of his siblings, the anxiety he felt around his grandfather, the loneliness—but something like this… The panic on his mothers face, the pain in his wrist, the way she was dragging him around, the fear in her voice when she screamed at Dazai—was he Shuji? But then why—to not look back, to keep moving. He would remember something like that. That would be… crazy to forget, right?

What is going on?

“You’re Mori,” Dazai breathes out, clearing his throat. He hopes he doesn’t look as disconcerted as he feels, but he thinks he must. “You’re…”

The leader of the Port Mafia. 

The closest thing you have to a father.

So, how does Dazai remember him from years ago? It doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that memory. What did he forget? When did he meet him? What’s going on? Dazai wants to scream, his mind is still slow from just waking up—he doesn’t even know how long he was unconscious, it couldn’t have been that long.

Mori’s smile widens as if Dazai just walked right into whatever trap that had been laid out for him, violet eyes flashing with a type of cruel amusement that makes Dazai sick to his stomach. Dazai has to circle back to remember what he just said, he needs to snap out of the daze he’s in. He needs to think. He made a mistake—Dazai made a mistake. He shouldn’t have admitted that he knew Mori. That was a mistake.

How does he fix it? 

Can he fix it?

“You do know,” Mori says, like he didn’t actually expect Dazai to admit that he knew him. Like he’s pleasantly surprised. Again. Like Dazai just made things much easier for him. Shit. “Interesting.”

He’s going to use it against Dazai. Dazai knows it. He’s going to use it against him to hurt you. He remembers everything he’s learned about your relationship with Mori—how he pit you against that other girl, Yosano, to get results from you. And he already said it. He already said that Dazai is getting between you and your work, he’ll do the same thing here. He’ll pit you against him.

He’s going to tell you that Dazai knew who Mori was, and that Dazai is someone that he’s not—who is Shuji? Why doesn’t he remember his own name? Is that really his name? How does Mori know all of this? Who is Dazai?—and Dazai needs to be able to say something. He needs to be able to explain. How does he explain this when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? Dazai needs to remember; he needs to remember now, he needed to remember yesterday, because if he’s not the one to tell you this… If he can’t explain this…

This cannot be happening—it can’t. Right when he thought everything would be okay, when he would be with you. His throat starts to clog as anxiety clouds his head and weighs on his chest, a panic attack that he can’t afford right now. He needs to think, he needs to figure out what’s going on—Mori knows something about Dazai that he doesn’t know himself, and he’s going to use it against him to drive a wedge between the two of you. He’s going to tell you, and-

Dazai’s world feels woozy. Why can’t he remember? How does he know Mori? What was happening that night with his mother? He needs to snap out of this, needs to think, but he can’t even breathe. Fear—the mind killer.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Dazai rasps, his voice is hoarse, and he feels sick, and he hates admitting that he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he needs Mori to believe it so that he doesn’t tell you something that’s not true. “I don’t know how I know you. I don’t-”

“You might believe that,” Mori says amused, “but will she?”

Dazai stares at Mori, his stomach churns violently and his vision swims as the answer becomes abundantly clear to him.

He doesn’t know. 

———

The gun in your hand weighs heavily.

You hid it in the inside of your blazer to get up to the conference room. No weapons are allowed up past the thirty-fifth floor unless you’re one of the Boss’s hand-picked personal guards—even executives are forced to disarm themselves before going up, but security is much more lax for the upper echelon. Because you’re you—the hime, second-in-command, the Boss’s daughter—the guards outside of the elevator that goes directly to the top floor wave you past the metal detectors to go on up.

A mistake.

(Who is Tsushima Shuji? It can’t be Dazai. You know Dazai. Mori must be wrong.)

The smile on your face is bland and doesn’t meet your eyes as you walk down the hall to the conference room attached to Mori’s office. You greet the guards, and they don’t notice how off your demeanor is, too starstruck over the fact that they’re being acknowledged for once. They also don’t notice the way your hand is curled around the grip of your gun in your blazer.

A mistake. 

(Mori is never wrong. Do you really know Dazai?)

When you reach the end of the hallway, you toss them one last brilliant smile. This one is a bit more genuine because you’ve realized that you’ve gotten through the top notch security of the upper levels of the Port Mafia headquarters without a hitch. That you’re one step closer to finishing this. They’re so blinded by the beauty of your smile that they don’t realize your teeth have sharpened into knives and the floral perfume you wear masks a putrid bloodlust. 

A mistake. 

(It’s always been odd, hasn’t it? The way he approached you. The way he was so insistent on pushing himself into your life. You always questioned it. There was a sinking feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Why didn’t you question it more?)

You keep your back turned as you slip into the room. You can feel four presences behind you—Kouyou, Piano Man, Chuuya, Ace. No Mori. No Dazai. That’s fine—you have something to take care of before they show up anyway. The conference room is soundproof; Mori designed it that way because he didn’t want the guards outside to overhear any discussion of sensitive topics. Even if he handpicked them for their loyalty, he understands that money can make the most devout man’s faith waver. Still, it’s not them rushing in that you’re worried about—it’s the people in the room with you rushing out, so you very carefully twist the nub of the lock and then reach up to fix the deadbolt. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them. You can feel their eyes on you as you make sure the door is locked, but none of them call you out for it or try to stop you.

A mistake. 

(Mori always told you that the Tsushimas were like cockroaches. If they all weren’t killed, one would eventually return to reclaim their grandfather’s empire. There’d be a power struggle between the factions loyal to the new regime and the ones that still hid in the shadows believing that the Tsushima blood belonged at the head of the organization. Everything the two of you had built would crumble to ashes.)

You turn to make your way over to the conference table where the four of them are sitting. You haven’t decided how you want to go about this yet. You don’t know who all was aware of what Mori did, and because of that, you don’t know who needs to die. Treachery has always faced a death penalty—you don’t care if Mori ordered it, you don’t care that the Boss’s word is absolute, you have bled and breathed for the Port Mafia. You’ve sacrificed everything you’ve ever owned and wanted for the Port Mafia. You have made the Port Mafia into what it is today with your efforts abroad and at home—foreign governments, foreign criminal organizations, the Japanese government and other domestic mafias, all of them are just puppets that you pull the strings of to ensure the Port Mafia stays on top. Treachery against you will face the same penalty one would receive if they betrayed the Port Mafia, because you are the Port Mafia—Mori has made sure of that. 

Chuuya and Piano Man share a look with one another as you approach the table. Neither of them say anything—is it confusion? Is it guilt? Did they know? Were you the only one unaware of the schemes going on around you? Were you the only one loyal? The only one you could trust?

Did they know?

Did they know?

(No one could ever love you without your ability at work influencing them. You’ve known that since the very beginning, but you were so quick to forget that when you discovered Dazai’s ability. You should have had more questions, you should have been more suspicious. Mori had been right from the very beginning. You were emotionally compromised. You were weak.)

Ace opens his mouth to speak.

A mistake. 

“It was nice meeting your-”

Ace’s head hits the conference table with a hard thunk, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open around the words you didn’t let him finish speaking. Blood seeps from the bullet hole in his temple and pools around his head and the ground beneath his chair, staining the glass table and the white floors. 

Instead of lowering your arm, you shift it so that the gun is pressed against Piano Man’s temple next. Chuuya says your name—it’s awful, something caught between a gasp of shock and confusion, he’s never said your name like that before. Like he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Like he doesn’t understand you. Like you’re something unfamiliar. Unrecognizable. You ignore him anyway, and the pangs that come along with it, and instead, you keep your gaze trained on Piano Man’s face.

He’s not as panicked as Chuuya, but you can tell that he’s just as caught off guard from the way his lips are twisted. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to say whatever you’re going to say—if you were going to pull the trigger, you would’ve done so immediately, he knows that. He’s always been good at reading you, better than even Chuuya sometimes.

“Did you know?”

Your voice is steadier than you expect it to be. Cold almost. Distant. You don’t recognize it yourself, you suppose it’s no wonder that Chuuya’s staring at you with such a foreign expression. You watch him just as carefully as he does you. He has a tell when he lies: he squints. Not an obvious squint, just the barest hint of his eyes squeezing shut like he’s calculating exactly what he wants to say, in what tone and with what fluctuation he wants to say it.

A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless. 

“No.”

He stares at you steadily as he says it. There’s no squint—he’s telling the truth. You don’t let out a breath of relief, but you certainly feel the weight off of your shoulders. You lower the gun, satisfied with his response, and then you walk over to where Chuuya is sitting.

You don’t raise the gun to his temple immediately. He looks up at you, you look down at him, a whole conversation is had in the silence between you, and eventually he lowers his lashes in resignation, telling you to do what needs to be done for you to feel more at ease.

He’s always put others before himself. 

You lift the gun at the same time he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He could activate the Tainted Sorrow and end this before it starts, but he doesn’t—you know in your gut that if you pulled the trigger right now, he would accept the fate you delivered. Probably would take it as a better one than he deserved—it being at your hands rather than Arahabaki. 

“Did you know?” you ask. The words taste bitter, rancid—they don’t belong there, Chuuya would never betray you, but you had to hear it from him. 

Chuuya doesn’t have many tells when he lies—he’s a good actor, much better than people give him credit for. If he wanted to lie to you, he might be able to get away with it. But he won’t lie to you, not when he’s looking you in the eye. 

“No,” he says, voice soft and raspy like he can’t believe he has to say it.

You let the gun drop to your side. It weighs heavier now—heavier than it did in the elevator, heavier than it did in the hallway leading to the room, heavier than it did when it was pressed against Piano Man’s head. You can hardly bear to keep holding it, but you’re not done yet.

Slowly, your gaze turns to Kouyou. Her expression is cold and unreadable, gaze pinned on you in the same way a lion stalks its prey through the tall grass… No, that’s not right. She stares at you with the same look in her eyes that a snake does when it’s curled in a corner, rattle shaking and hissing to try to scare off the predator that has it trapped.

“You knew,” you breathe out softly in disbelief. Your voice hardens and tightens as you repeat, “You knew!”

Before you can raise your gun—before you can pull the trigger four, five, six times, before you can riddle her body with holes because how dare she know, how dare she know and not tell you after what the previous boss did to her—the door that separates the conference room from Mori’s office opens, and your attention is drawn to the one person who caused all of this.

“Oh my,” Mori says airly, looking between you, Ace’s body, and Kouyou with an expression that is frustratingly amused. “I see you’ve been busy.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You almost want to laugh. You think you do laugh, actually—someone does, and you think it’s you, because you feel yourself walking away, you lift your hands to your head to tug at your ears in frustration. Your vision is blurry—are you crying?

“You betrayed me,” you finally say, voice quieter than you intend, so you raise it as you repeat yourself. “You betrayed me. You. Of all people I never thought you would be the one to-”

You can’t even finish the sentence, your voice cracks over the words. It makes you feel sick, it makes you angry, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because how could he? To you? You don’t know why you’re so angry, why you’re so betrayed. Mori has always made it clear that his priority is the Port Mafia, but still, to do this to you. To do this to his-

To his what?

You’re not his daughter. You hate when people imply that you are, you hate being called hime, you hate being called ‘Miss Mori’, you hate when people give you respect because of your perceived relationship to him. 

He’s the only father you’ve ever known. Almost every decision you’ve made has been with the motive of making him proud of you. When he seeks out your opinion specifically during meetings, your chest becomes warm with pride.

You don’t love him. How could you? Look at what you’ve become because of him. 

Then why do you feel so betrayed? Why did you think he would be the last person to do something like this to you when you know the type of person he is? Why does your chest feel like it’s caving in? Like your heart’s been ripped right out of it? Why does this hurt as much—why does this hurt more than Dazai’s potential betrayal?

And he certainly doesn’t love you. He never would have done this if he did. 

He’s killed people for disrespecting you—he hardly ever gets his own hands dirty, but he does when it’s you and your dignity on the line. He spends hours meticulously picking out birthday presents that he knows you’ll like. He gets sad when he invites you for lunch and you don’t join him, reminiscing about the days where you clung to the back of his coat.

He touches your shoulder, and your finger twitches on the trigger of the gun. You want to lift it, press it to his temple and pull the trigger just like you did to Ace, but you can’t. Your arm feels like lead, and when his hand slides down to your bicep to force you to turn around and face him so that your back is to the rest of the executives, you dutifully follow along.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you, violet eyes swimming with an emotion you’ve never seen in them before. He lifts his hand to wipe away one of the tears that had spilled over your cheeks with his knuckle, and then taps your cheek twice, chiding you silently. 

Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.

“You have always been so dramatic,” Mori hums just loud enough for you to hear, but the words are fond, and the corners of his lip curl up as he looks down at you. “I would not betray you. Not ever, dear.” 

You look at Ace pointedly in response and then back to Mori, the man sighs dramatically and gives you a disappointed look. The nerve, you think bitterly, narrowing your eyes on him as you wait for his explanation.

“I told you,” Mori says. “I did this to protect you. I wanted to get ahold of the boy-”

“Because you have some mistaken belief that he’s a Tsushima,” you interrupt coolly. “How did you even manage to come up with that ridiculous theory?”

Mori’s eyes flicker with something akin to interest, but shifts quickly into pity—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or mocking, and you don’t know which would be worse. He must be mistaken, he has to be. You don’t think you can handle the implications of if he isn’t, of what it might mean for you. For Dazai. Your whole relationship with him. How much was manufactured for him to get information about the Port Mafia? So he could get a foothold in the organization? Get in contact with the remaining loyalists to his family?

“Sit,” he tells you, guiding you over to the seat at the right of the head of the table. “I’ll explain everything, but first… Shuji-kun, why don’t you come out and join us?” 

Your breath catches at Mori’s words, gaze twisting to the side over to the door that he’d come out of. You watch as the door creaks open, and the achingly familiar sight of his face finally comes into view. You’ve missed him—you’ve missed him, and you hate this. You should be back at your apartment with him, you should have him curled up in your arms, you should be listening to him complain about how long he was stuck with the Guild. 

This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be sitting at the executive roundtable with Ace’s dead body a few feet away, and Dazai entering the room, questions of his identity, of whether or not he’s been using you for information and opportunity to take back his grandfather’s legacy. 

You hoped that Dazai would enter the room angry, irritated by the kidnapping and the accusations, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai look like this before. He looks a mess, fidgeting, brown hair matted to his forehead, dark eyes wide and swirling with emotion. When he seeks you out, they’re pleading, imploring, like he already knows that whatever is about to be said is going to be bad for him. 

He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused. 

He looks guilty, and you know that Mori is telling the truth. 

How much of this was a lie? All of it?

Your throat feels uncomfortably tight, gaze sliding from Dazai back to Mori.

“Tell me.”

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

———

Despite his body being wracked with a strange sense of guilt, Dazai pushes open the door to enter the room where he assumes you’ll be waiting. You’re not the only one there sitting at the table—there’s five… no, four others—but Dazai can’t help the way he immediately seeks you out. He recognizes his mistake instantly. That highly unwelcome, and highly misplaced, guilt amplifies the moment his gaze meets yours and he sees how crushed you are by all of this. His face twists into something that he knows condemns himself more. and from the way you instantly look away from him, directing your full attention to Mori, he knows he has. 

Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.

Dazai sits stiffly across from you to the left of Mori. Nakahara Chuuya is on his opposite side, glaring holes into the side of Dazai’s head, but he can’t drag his gaze from you. He’s never seen you like this before—even back at the beach house when you’d been so close to breaking down under the weight of everything on your shoulders, you’d held yourself together as best you could. 

You’re unraveling now; he can tell you’re still trying to hold yourself together, but it’s as good as trying to pick up water with your fists, your emotions spill out through the cracks carved into the walls you used to hide yourself behind. Mori hasn’t even begun talking, yet your breath is unsteady and your eyes are swimming with emotion; your fingers are still wrapped tight around the grip of your gun, and Dazai is very acutely aware of Ace’s dead body slouched over the table not even a few feet away. 

And you won’t even meet his eyes.

Maybe it’s a good thing, he realizes, because Dazai isn’t sure what you might see if you do. You clearly didn’t like what you saw the first time. He just feels so guilty, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty because he’s not-he didn’t do any of what Mori implied. He didn’t use you, he didn’t know who you were before meeting you, it wasn’t all some scheme to try to take over the mafia. That’s ludicrous—he’s a literature student at YNU, not some gang lord. He just-

He loved you. Loves you. No ulterior motives. No strings attached. 

“I said tell me,” you snap when Mori doesn’t immediately begin talking. “You love talking, so why are you holding back now? Tell me, or I’m leaving.”

Dazai feels a bit sick to his stomach when you say ‘I’ with no implication of taking him with you. He tries to get you to look at him again, silently pleading with you to just spare one glance in his direction, but you’re irritated now. He can see it in the way your fingers flex around the gun, knuckles whitening and finger twitching on the trigger—it’s pointed at the woman sitting next to you, who is very acutely aware of the fact from how stiff she is. 

“Do you remember the night we took over the Port Mafia, dear?” Mori asks her, voice a low hum. 

“What kind of question is that?” you answer tightly. Your lip curls up in irritation, Dazai can see you become more and more antsy and angry—he’s never seen you so out of control before. “Of course, I do.” 

“And you, Shuji-kun?” Mori turns his attention to Dazai and he wants to spit in his face—his name is Dazai—but his voice fails him when he sees the way your face twists at the sound of the unfamiliar name. He stares at Mori instead, hating how amused the man becomes at his silence. “I’ll take that as a no, allow me to refresh you.”

“Eight years ago, a coup was staged against your grandfather’s regime,” Mori says, and Dazai feels like he’s being studied under a microscope. All eyes are on him now—even yours, but now, he can’t bring himself to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, and he’s scared it’s going to be something he doesn’t like. “Your grandfather was mad, killing civilians and mafiosos indiscriminately, something had to be done, and nobody was willing to do it, so we did.”

“We had to wipe out the whole family, and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s grandaughter…”

Dazai’s gaze drags over to you. You’re staring ahead now, gaze listless and expression eerily blank like you’re slowly starting to realize what this means. Dazai hasn’t come to terms with it yet, because if even a little of what Mori is saying is true then…

“We wiped out the whole bloodline and as many loyalists as we could,” Mori continues, “or we thought we did, at least. My dear hime was who I sent to kill the heirs, I trusted in her to make it quick and painless. We didn’t realize one of the grandchildren were missing until it was too late—he wasn’t in his bedroom, apparently liked to wander around at night because he couldn’t sleep. His mother was able to swoop in and get him out of the estate before our men took over the building… Tsushima Shuji, the youngest of the previous boss’s grandsons. Does this sound familiar yet, Shuji-kun?”

He has the best view of the night sky from an alcove on the fourth floor of the estate—his grandfather’s floor. It’s where he likes to go when he can’t sleep at night, and ever since his cousins and siblings started fighting over their grandfather’s legacy, that’s been just about every night: half because of fear now that things have started escalating to violence, half because he’s not even sure why he’s still here.

His knees are tucked tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting against the cool glass as he looks up at the stars. He hears a commotion happening somewhere downstairs, but there’s always a commotion happening at the estate, so he thinks nothing of it. He submerges himself in the darkness instead, letting his mind float away as he stares up at the sky—it’s the only time he’s able to relax, escape from the shadows of his own mind.

He’s not sure how long he sits there admiring the night, time passes immeasurably when he’s lost in the stars—he’s only snapped out of it when he hears feet slamming against the ground in his direction. He stiffens, eyes wide, wondering if another one of his cousins has finally turned to bloodshed as the way to inherit their grandfather’s legacy, but instead his mother turns the corner, her smooth face contorted in a type of panic he’s never seen on her before.

“Mothe…” he starts to say, confused, but he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the word, gasping as his mother grabs his wrist and yanks him off the cushioned seat in the alcove.

“Shuji, we have to go,” she gasps, “we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

He stumbles after his mother, struggling to keep up with her quick pace and longer legs. Her grip was painful, nails digging into the bandages around his wrists, right into the fresh wounds they covered. He grimaces in pain, breathing heavy as he follows his mother down the hall, assumingly toward the steps near his grandfather’s room. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What about Bunji? Akane? T-”

His mother chokes over what sounds like a sob and his eyes widen—he’s never heard his mother cry before. 

“There’s no time,” she chokes out, “we have to leave without them. We-”

They turn a hall, she skids to a stop and-

“It seems that it does… Allow me to continue then,” Mori hums, drawing Dazai out of the memory. He sounds unbearably amused, and Dazai would be angry if he wasn’t so shaken. He pulls his hands off of the table to rest them in his lap to hide the way his fingers are trembling. “Your mother was able to hide you from us for half a year, I warned her that she wouldn’t be able to for long and since she didn’t share your grandfather’s blood, promised to spare her life if she gave you up to us, but she refused. She tried to take you out of the Kanagawa Prefecture, but our men were catching up to her, and she took… drastic measures to ensure we couldn’t track you down. That I’m sure you remember.”

“Mother,” he whispered, staring up at the rope, her limp body, gaze trailing down to the kicked over chair. “Mother, I don’t… why did you…”

He takes a step closer. A step back. Another step closer. He reaches out, fingers brushing the white nightgown she’d worn the night before while getting him settled in bed, but he snatches them back instantly like he’d been burned, clutching his hand to his chest.

He’s not breathing, he realizes when his lungs start to burn. His eyes sting painfully, unable to draw his eyes away—unable to even blink—is it a nightmare? Is he hallucinating? She sways—sways like when she used to distract him when he was settling into a depressive episode by putting on music and forcing him to spin with her in the kitchen, sways like the wind chimes she keeps outside because the house doesn’t feel homely enough without him, sways-

“Shuji! Shuji, get away from there!” The voice that calls to him is familiar��Aunt Kiye? Why is she here? “God, I tried to get here earlier. Nee-san, forgive me.”

Aunt Kiye grabs his wrist, yanking him away from his mother, dragging him out of her bedroom and down the hall. His voice is hoarse as he screams, he doesn’t know what he’s screaming, if he’s even screaming anything intelligible. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the house and she’s kneeling in front of him, shaking him out of his panic.

“Enough, Shuji! We have to go, we can’t stay here, they’ll be here soon,” Aunt Kiye shouts at him, expression twisted and eyes pooling with tears that she doesn’t let spill over. “We need to go, and we-we need to change your name, change everything. I promised I would hide you, I-”

“We can’t leave her there,” he argues, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, why did she do that? What did I do? It was my fault, It was my fault, wasn’t it? It-”

Aunt Kiye doesn’t answer his question. She looks bitter, angry, hateful. “We have no time. We have to leave,” she whispers, dragging him to the car despite his protests. She continues talking, more to herself than to him, but the words make his chest cave in. “I told her not to get involved with that family. Their blood is black, cursed. Everyone knows nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

His fault, he realizes, breath becoming thin and shallow. It’s his fault, his blood, his fault that his mother-

“Yes, quite the unfortunate scene we walked into,” Mori says dismissively. “She was smart for it though, she never would’ve survived a night with our sweet hime interrogating her. You should see what she did to that despicable journalist. Of course, she wasn’t as fine-tuned with her ability back then, but that would’ve been at your mother’s expense—her first few attempts at conditioning were quite… unfortunate for her test sub-”

“Enough,” you spit out, interrupting him. Dazai wants to believe that it’s because you can see how uncomfortable he’s getting, but he’s not even sure that you care. He’s not even sure you remember he’s in the room. “Get to the point. You think he’s the Tsushima kid we missed—that doesn’t prove shit. It doesn’t mean-”

You don’t finish what you’re going to say, but you do look at him, and Dazai’s breath catches when his gaze finally meets yours again. He can’t tell what you’re thinking—the expression on your face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between being accusatory and guilty. Dazai doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out of this room alive. Even if by some miracle, you decide to believe him, there’s a good chance that Mori will order his death anyway, and he’s not sure if you’ll pick him over the Port Mafia. 

That being said, Dazai doesn’t even know if he wants to make it out of here alive. His brain is fogged with memories that he locked so deep within him that they never should’ve resurfaced—every time Mori speaks, Dazai’s recalling something new, something awful, something that proves that he’s every bit the freak people have always claimed him to be. Every bit as bad. Every bit as wrong. Not like other people. A monster whose mother killed herself because of him, a monster who's been cursed since the day he was born. 

“... blood is black, cursed… nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

More than that, he doesn’t see how the two of you are going to be able to come back from this, and that scares him more than anything. You’re the only good thing left in his life, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it without you, but he doesn’t think that after all of this things are just going to work out. You killed his siblings. His cousins. And yeah, Dazai was never close to them—they thought he was too quiet, too strange, all of the things that the other students at school whispered, his family was the first to—but… they were still his family, and if Dazai had been in his room that night, he would’ve been just as dead at your hands as the rest of them.

You killed his family. You would have killed him. The Port Mafia is the reason his mother killed herself, the reason why he walked into her bedroom and saw her hanging from a fan. The Port Mafia is the reason his aunt hated him so much that she couldn’t even bear looking at him, the reason why he was left to die in Suribachi City. 

Would you ever be able to get over the guilt of that? Would Dazai be able to accept it? You had a heavy hand in ruining his life, is it enough that you saved him years later? He doesn’t know, he’s hardly even processed it, he just knows that he has to cling to what little he has left, dig his nails in and not let go even if it makes you choke on guilt, even if it makes him sick with shame. He won’t let go. 

“So impatient,” Mori sighs. “Your aunt hid you for almost another half a year, but she wasn’t able to move out of the Yokohama area. She did well though, I’ll give her that. We had our best trying to find you, but she was very careful. It was partially our own fault that we didn’t get our hands on you back then—some loyalists to your grandfather snuck under our radar, told her when we were closing in on the two of you. She got rid of you before we got to her… but we did get to her. Kouyou-kun was the one who handled her, if I recall it got quite… messy. I can’t imagine how it must feel knowing that your mother and aunt sacrificed themselves to protect you only for you to throw it all away in an arrogant attempt to reclaim your grandfather’s legacy.”

Dazai doesn’t even zero in on the last bit of what Mori says because he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the rest of it. Aunt Kiye didn’t… die for him. Aunt Kiye hated him. He remembers that clear enough—he remembers how she could hardly stand to look at him, he remembers the way she was always so cold and rough with him, he remembers-

“You have to go, Osamu.” Aunt Kiye is shouting at him, and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of her car. He doesn’t move, he thinks maybe if he sits still enough, she won’t see him there and won’t make him leave. “Osamu, get out of the car and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

The name is still unfamiliar—he’s not used to it, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but Aunt Kiye insists that Tsushima Shuji is dead and that name can never be uttered again. She gets mad when he doesn’t immediately answer to it, tells him not to let his mother’s death be in vain, and that’s usually enough to get him to stop being stubborn over it.

“Osamu, go!” She grabs his bicep hard to try to get his attention, but he flinches and squirms out of her grip, still not responding to her. He can’t remember the last time he’s spoken—he thinks maybe since they left the cabin that morning. “You-”

Aunt Kiye sounds angry now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. It’s only when he hears her unbuckle and feels her start reaching over him that he starts to panic. He reaches up to grab her bicep, trying to stop her from grabbing the handle of the door to open it, but she’s stronger than him. He’s hardly been eating lately, and he’s never been particularly strong—he was always the smallest among his siblings. 

It takes no effort for her to bat his hands away, pushing open the door and unbuckling his seatbelt. He struggles against her as she tries to push him out of the car, and she’s still speaking—shouting at him, begging him, he thinks she might be crying too, but he can’t even tell. His mind is fogged with panic and fear—he doesn’t want to be alone in Suribachi City, he doesn’t want to be alone at all. He wants to stay with Aunt Kiye even if she hates him because he doesn’t want to be alone. 

Eventually, Aunt Kiye wins the fight—even with him fighting tooth and nail, she manages to push him out of the car. He hits the ground hard, gasping when he lands poorly on his elbow. He’s stunned for a moment by the shock and pain, and Aunt Kiye takes the chance to toss out a backpack from the back seat and close the door behind him, locking it quickly. 

“No!” His voice is raspy from lack of use over the past few months. He scrambles to his feet and tries to pry the door open but can’t. Aunt Kiye won’t even look at him, she stares ahead as she switches the car into gear and he slams his hands against the window. “Aunt Kiye! Aunt Kiye, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, please, I’ll be better, I’ll do better, just don’t-”

He stumbles back as she pulls the car away, falling when he trips over the backpack onto the asphalt, scraping up his hands and forearms. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring after where the car disappeared waiting for her to come back for him.

She doesn’t.

She didn’t die for him, Dazai thinks again, nails digging crescents into his palm. She didn’t die for him, she couldn’t have. Dazai won’t believe it. Aunt Kiye hated him, she abandoned him in Suribachi—none of this can be true. It can’t. His mother killed herself to be free of him, not to protect him; and Aunt Kiye abandoned him because she hated him, not to save him.

That’s the truth. It has to be. They couldn’t have died for him—for him. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t want to remember all of this—he was better off thinking that they hated him, that they wanted to be free of him.

He can feel you looking at him now, but Dazai is back to being unable to look at you. He’s staring down at the glass table looking at his reflection, his eyes are wide and dark and far too black—he looks warped, inhuman almost. His expression is blank, none of the turmoil within him is reflected on it, and he doesn’t even understand why. He thinks it’s probably just making him seem more guilty.

“We figured she left you somewhere in Suribachi City, but we weren’t able to track you down,” Mori says flippantly. Dazai wants him to stop talking, but he has a sick feeling things are only going to get worse from here. “Not until you ended up with Oda Sakunosuke, at least, we…”

Dazai’s ears ring at his old friend’s name. Mori is still talking, but his words become a distant buzz. Everything starts coming back to him at once—his time alone in Suribachi City, the weeks he spent rationing the little food he had, getting the shit kicked out of him by some low rung gang who stole his mother’s ring from him. He remembers giving up, questioning the point of his own existence with a detached logic that left him with only one answer—there was no point to his existence, so he was as good dead as he was alive. 

He remembers seeing on a sign that it was the eve of his fifteenth birthday, and he remembers dropping himself in the bay during a storm, hoping that the tide dragged him so far beneath the surface that he’d never see the light of day again.

He remembers waking up the next morning to an unfamiliar face at his bedside, brows knit in disapproval and lips turned down, and he distinctly remembers feeling put out by a stranger looking at him that way.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Dazai couldn’t remember anything but the name Aunt Kiye had drilled into him over and over again the past few months.

“Dazai Osamu.”

“Hm. Oda Sakunosuke. You got a family, Dazai?

Odasaku brought him in. 

Odasaku saved him. 

The doctors said he’d been dead for almost three minutes when Odasaku found him washed up on the beach—said his memory might return over time, but it might not—but Dazai didn’t even care, because Odasaku brought him in. He gave him a roof over his head, food to eat, and a reason to live. He sent him to school so he could feel like a normal kid his age. He played board games with him and didn’t even care when Dazai was a sore loser and quit mid-game when he realized he wouldn’t win. He humored Dazai when he faked being sick because he didn’t want to go to school. When Dazai was going through bad depressive episodes, Odasaku would sit with him silently and write his book so Dazai never felt alone. Odasaku introduced him to Ango and they were-

They were his friends.

Family, maybe.

They were all he had, and they were all he needed. 

And then-

“We were the ones who killed him.”

Dazai’s gaze drags up from the table to focus on Mori. The man’s lips are curved into a cruel smile, his eyes are sharp, and Dazai is moving before he can stop himself. He lunges across the table, but Mori doesn’t even flinch because Nakahara Chuuya grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down into his seat. 

“You-” Dazai spits, voice raspy and angry.

“Don’t look at me like that, we were trying to get to you,” Mori says casually as if the words don’t shatter Dazai’s entire world. “We would’ve loved to have Oda Sakunosuke amongst our ranks. His death was unfortunate. Collateral damage. He was an assassin for a long time—one of the best in the world. He was pretty much unkillable, his ability allowed him to see six seconds into the future. I never understood how our sniper managed to get him that day, but now I do. He saw you getting shot with his foresight and tried to pull you out of the way, but your ability is nullification, so when he touched you to save you, he damned himself. In those split seconds when he was pulling you to safety, he couldn’t see the future, and couldn’t see the bullets aimed for you that lodged into his chest instead.”

Dazai can’t do this anymore. He tries to push himself up to his feet but his legs are numb and uncooperative, and he can’t move his hands or arms. Mori’s lips part to continue speaking but Dazai can’t do this, he can’t hear anymore of this. He’d always known in his heart that Odasaku’s death was his fault even if he couldn’t remember much about his mother and Aunt Kiye and their desperate attempts to hide him from the Port Mafia. He’d known, but hearing it-hearing the confirmation, it’s too much for him.

Before Mori can say anything, Dazai is startled from his spiraling thoughts when you stand up so abruptly that your chair goes flying back. Your expression is haunted and you’re not looking at him again, but Dazai is glad for it, because he thinks he’s about to throw up.

“I… I need a minute. I just need a minute,” you say shakily before fleeing the room into Mori’s office so quickly that you almost trip over the chair you knocked over.

The room is silent in your wake, and after a few impossibly long moments, Mori stands to follow you into the other room. The three Port Mafia executives left in the room don’t say anything for a moment, and Dazai is just trying to breathe. He’s trying to breathe and process what Mori just said, but he’s failing miserably at it. 

It’s the woman, Kouyou, who speaks first.

“She’s going to kill me for knowing about this,” she says simply, sparing a glance down at the dead body on her opposite side. “I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Chuuya-kun went missing for a few days, this…”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have conspired against her,” Piano Man sings, looking entirely unperturbed. “I mean honestly, after what the previous boss did to you, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic. Silly me to think you aren’t a cold-hearted bitch.”

Dazai tries to pay attention to what they’re saying, he tries to ground himself with the conversation happening so he can forget the feeling of Odasaku’s blood all over his hands, staining his clothes, smeared on his face. He tries to replace Mori’s echoing words with what they’re saying but he can’t.

“We were trying to get to you.”

“It has nothing to do with sympathy,” Kouyou snaps, but she does look ashamed. “It’s a security threat, it’s bigger than love. This boy could spell the end of everything we’ve built.”

“She won’t kill you, Ane-san,” Chuuya finally speaks up, his knuckles are tight around the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “I’ll talk to her, I just-”

“When he touched you to save you, he damned himself.”

“Chuuya-kun, she almost killed you,” Kouyou says so dryly that the words almost don’t even register to Dazai, but when they do, they’re the only thing that effectively draws him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks at Chuuya sharply to see if what Kouyou said was true, and his eyes widen when he only grimaces and looks down. “You and Piano Man. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger on Ace. She’s unstable right now, there’s no talking to her.”

“But she didn’t,” Chuuya says tightly. “I’ll talk to her, but first…”

Chuuya looks at Dazai so suddenly that he almost wants to snap his head away and ignore him, but he can’t. The ginger studies Dazai so intensely that it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Did you know?” Chuuya asks, voice low. He’s angry, Dazai can tell from the way a dark red color starts to flicker around his hands, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Tell me. Did you know who she was and use her to get closer to the Mafia for revenge? I’ll spare her the pain of having to put a bullet through your fucking head and kill you myself right now. Did you know who she was and purposely-”

“No,” Dazai interrupts, voice hoarse. “No. I didn’t-I didn’t know.”

Chuuya stares at him for a few seconds, studying him like he doesn’t know if he actually believes him, but after what feels like an eternity, he finally shakes his head and looks away, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Fuck, this is such a mess,” Chuuya breathes out, voice strained. “Fuck. She-”

Chuuya doesn’t finish his sentence because the door to Mori’s office reopens and you step back into the room, Mori at your heels. Your eyes are red, but your expression is withdrawn now, void of the tumultuous emotions that had been raging across it just a few minutes before. You settle back in your seat. Your eyes flit over Dazai like he’s not even there before focusing on Mori.

Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.

“I’m not quite sure how you escaped us after that,” Mori continues where he left off, and Dazai is so sick of the man’s voice that he almost wants to rip his own ears off. “Probably Sakaguchi-san from the SDUP, I recall him and Oda-san being close… but that brings us to the present, doesn’t it? Four years later, you stumble into our lovely hime… Come, dear, let me tell you my running theory, and you tell me how accurate I am, yeah?”

Mori is looking at you now, eyes glittering as he waits for your response. Dazai has his own serious issues with the man, but he thinks it’s sick the way he’s enjoying your clear discomfort and increasing distress. Your jaw tightens a bit, but you nod, signaling for Mori to speak. Dazai’s nails dig into his pants as he waits for Mori to continue. Neither of you look at him, and Dazai’s lips part to speak so he can preemptively deny whatever Mori is about to accuse him of, but he can’t push a single word out. 

“Your first meeting with him wasn’t by chance. A cafe, maybe… a bar?” Mori offers, watching your face carefully for a reason. You look away at the second option, and the man’s lips curve up. “A bar, then. One you frequent, I bet. The one in Hodogaya-ku, perhaps? Your first meeting, but not Shuji-kun’s first time seeing you. Ui Koutarou—his journalism professor at YNU—wrote his first article implicating the Mori Corporation’s connection with the Port Mafia in February of this year, around a month before rising fourth year students register for classes. Shuji-kun, naturally, has been following anything related to the Port Mafia closely, so when he sees a class being offered in the fall by the same man who has been openly targeting the Port Mafia, he sees an opportunity and signs up for the class.”

No, Dazai tries to say. His lips form the word, but the sound doesn’t come from his lips. No. No, no, no, no. You look haunted suddenly, and Dazai remembers the argument he had with you during the government event in Tokyo. How cold and withdrawn you’d become. How when he confronted you next, you accused him of working with Ui Koutarou and blackmailing you for money. Mori is reigniting all of the initial fears you once had.

“Ui-san has had his sights set on you for quite a while, dear. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re very well aware of the man’s hatred of you… When Shuji-kun started classes in the fall, Ui-san roped him into his plans, and you became his project. That wretched man had many documents on you. I had the Black Lizards raid his apartment after we captured him—most were harmless, detailing places you frequented and people seen around you, but when Shuji-kun became involved, he started using that information to manufacture meetings between you. I imagine that after you met him that first time, he started appearing around you rather regularly. Bump-ins at that cafe you like in Minami-ku, on the streets—he even started renting an apartment on property that we own after he realized the opportunity he had with Ui… he’s only been living there since the summer, you know?”

His last apartment wasn’t close enough to the school, Dazai wants to argue desperately. He’d been lucky that a cheap apartment opened up in Hodogaya-ku before the semester started—he’s been trying to get one since his first year. It has nothing to do with-

Dazai suddenly feels nauseous again, everything is spinning around him—he still hears Aunt Kiye screaming at him, he still hears the creaking of the rope his mother hung himself on, he still hears Mori’s confirming that Odasaku’s death was his fault. And now this, and you’re not looking at him again, and he’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he denying this?

“He attached himself to you quickly, didn’t he?” Mori asks rhetorically. “Too quickly, I’m sure you had doubts—not even your ability makes people reliant on you as swift as he became. How long did it take for him to start prying for information? Trying to make you slip up and implicate yourself with the Mafia? Confess yourself as an ability user?”

The night of the earthquake when you showed up at his apartment, he remembers dizzily. He started pressing you on your political opinion because he remembered Ui saying that all of the criminal syndicates in Japan are going to do whatever it takes to prevent the military bill from passing. But he wasn’t… doing it to prove anything? He just wanted to know more about you, he was curious, he was finally putting the mystery that you are together. It wasn’t malicious—he just wanted to know you. That’s all it ever was, he’s only ever wanted to know you.

“When did you tell him about your ability? More about our organization? Around when the Guild started making their move in Yokohama, I’m sure. He never told you about his ability until his hand was forced. In fact, I’m willing to bet he lied and said he didn’t know he had one, but tell me, do you really think an assassin of the caliber of Oda Sakunosuke would not realize his ward had an ability that negated his own? That he wouldn’t be trained in how to use it… Most importantly, if all of this wasn’t a scheme of revenge—if he really did love you—then why did he never get rid of the flash drive that contained the proof that his journalism house published? The proof that got you thrown in prison?”

You’re crying.

Dazai’s throat swells when he sees the tears silently tracking over your cheeks. At once, he realizes that he’s never seen you cry before; he itches to reach over to you, to grab your hand or wipe away the tears. He doesn’t—partially because he doesn’t think he could move if he tried, but mostly because he knows that he’s the reason you’re crying. 

He wants to assure you that none of this is true. He had nothing to do with the Guild—they kidnapped him for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know about his ability, he didn’t even know Odasaku was an assassin. And he was just… careless with the flash drive, and he shouldn’t have been, but there was always so much going on, and he was so new to having someone in his life that really loved him that he was quick to bask in it and forget everything else.

He doesn’t assure you of anything, instead he watches as Mori reaches out to do what Dazai wants to do. He brushes away your tears and turns your face to look at him, a disgustingly sympathetic look on his face.

“I know you were eager to believe that someone could love you without your ability at work influencing them, dear,” Mori murmurs, “but people like us will never find a love that pure. There will always be other factors at work sullying it—wealth, revenge, threats. You understand now what this was, don’t you?”

No, Dazai wants to scream at you. He does love you, this wasn’t some ridiculous revenge plot for family he hardly remembered until this meeting, that-

“I do.”

Dazai finally is able to make a noise when those two words leave your lips. It’s weak—something caught between a wheeze and a whimper that sounds too loud in the silent room. He feels eyes on him—Chuuya and Kouyou’s in particular. Not yours. You stare down at the table.

“Ogai-dono,” Kouyou clears her throat. “If I may… perhaps we could… send the boy away. Abroad. Ensure he never comes back to Japan so we don’t have to risk him coming back and disrupting things.”

“We could give him a seat at the table,” Chuuya interrupts, ignoring the wide-eyed look both Kouyou and Piano Man give him because of the radical idea. “We’re down an executive anyway. We tell people who he is, that he supports the new regime. It’s what you wanted to begin with, right, boss? You wanted one of the grandchildren to legitimize the passing of power. We could make it work.”

“It’s too risky.” Mori isn’t the one to speak, Piano Man is, but he doesn’t look happy to do it. “Maybe back then it could’ve worked, but the Port Mafia killed his friends and family, and hunted him down. Too much has happened, he’s an unpredictable variable that we can’t risk. We can’t trust that he’ll just accept it all, that he won’t work behind the scenes to take us down. Giving him any leverage in the organization is the last thing we should do, but what Kouyou-”

“Leave him alive and we risk everything we’ve built falling apart—a civil war igniting, Yokohama being caught in the crossfires and all of our foreign enemies crawling into the city to reap the benefits of our fall. It’s one life or hundreds—thousands, even,” Mori interrupts, voice cool. He turns his gaze onto you. “I trust you know what has to be done, dear.”

Your expression is resolved, a heavy emotion in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even speak. “Yeah, I know.”

You stand up, and Dazai knows that it’s over. When you look down at him, it’s with a type of apathy that makes his stomach twist—he’d rather hate than nothing. His lips part to speak but he pauses when you shake your head slightly, so subtly that he almost doesn’t even notice it.

“Get up,” you say flatly, and then glance at Chuuya. “Chuuya, will you…?” 

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies without you even needing to finish the question. His voice is hoarse, he looks more than a little disturbed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Chuuya rises to his feet and then grabs Dazai’s bicep to pull him up to his feet too. Dazai doesn’t even have the heart to give him a dirty look in response, following along as he leads him out of the conference room and into the hallway. 

For a split second, Dazai really believes that maybe you’re just trying to fool Mori, you made him think you were taking Dazai to have him killed so that you can get him out of here safely, but even once you’re out of the conference room without Mori’s eyes carefully watching you, you don’t look at him.

“Get one of the clean up crews up here,” you tell one of the guards waiting in the hall instead as you frown at your phone, typing out a quick text to someone. You pointedly ignore how alarmed they are by the offhand comment to click on the button to the elevator.

When you look back at the two of them, it’s not to look at Dazai—it’s to look at Chuuya. The two of you are having a conversation, Dazai can tell that much, and he thinks that maybe he should be putting in the effort to figure out what’s going on, what you have planned, but he’s just… tired. He’s not even sure if he cares what happens to him anymore, and he figures the worst case scenario is that he dies at your hands, and of all of the ways he could go, he thinks that would be the most preferable, because at least you would be the last thing he saw.

He doesn’t try to speak again until the three of you are in the elevator and the doors have closed. 

“I-”

“Stop.”

Dazai is startled by the sharpness in your voice. He looks at you, but you’re still not looking at him, your lips are curved down as you stare at your phone, typing furiously. He glances up into the left corner of the elevator, noticing the cameras—maybe that’s why, he thinks a bit unsurely, deciding to stay quiet until out of the building. 

When the elevator doors open, it’s Chuuya that urges him to keep walking by nudging his shoulder. You don’t touch him, don’t look at him. There’s nobody in the main entrance of the building, which Dazai thinks is a bit odd, but he bites back any comments he might have when he sees a black car waiting outside the building.

The doors to the building open at your approach, and Dazai inhales the crisp, fresh air greedily, not even having realized how stifled he’d felt in that room with Mori, you, and the other Port Mafia executives. He thinks maybe that you’ll sit in the backseat with him and he’ll finally be able to talk to you, but you don’t. You open the door to the passenger seat and sit there without even sparing him a glance.

Dazai’s throat starts to swell again, stopping in his tracks as he stares at where you disappeared behind the car door. Chuuya pushes him forward, not letting him linger for long—he opens the door to the backseat and pretty much manhandles Dazai into the car before taking a seat next to him.

He recognizes the person at the wheel—Albatross, your friend. He’s driven you and Dazai around before, every time Dazai gets in the car with him, he makes a sharp comment aimed to embarrass you in some manner. This time, he doesn’t even look at Dazai through the rearview mirror. He just puts the car in gear and starts driving.

A pit starts to form in Dazai’s stomach. Dazai tries to initiate conversation with you again now that you’re outside of the Port Mafia headquarters within closed quarters, nails scraping against his pants as he decides what he wants to say.

“I d-”

“Stop.”

When you cut him off now, Dazai’s stomach flips. He stares at the side of your face, trying to understand why you won’t even listen to him. You can’t actually believe what Mori was saying, you can’t. You were faking him out, tricking him into thinking you fell for it—you had to be, you have to be. You can’t possibly believe him. 

“You won’t… even hear me out?” Dazai asks you quietly.

“There’s nothing left to say.”

Oh, Dazai thinks to himself, withdrawing. He stares at you for a moment before turning away stiffly, expression tight and strained as he stares out the window, watching the buildings pass by as they get closer and closer to the ports. 

You believe it, he realizes dully. You believe that it was all just a scheme. You believe that everything was manufactured, that he used you for some fantastical revenge plan, that he never loved you. You believe it.

But it doesn’t make sense, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t understand how you’re not seeing through it, and if you are, why aren’t you at least giving him some hint? He should try to say something again—he knows that, but he finds himself unable to. He’s a smooth-talker, quick on his feet, but never when it comes to you—since the day he met you, he’s been fumbling over words awkwardly, but now it’s costing him everything. He finds ash in his mouth preventing him from salvaging anything he might’ve had with you.

Dig your nails in and cling, he reminds himself, but his nails have become rounded out and blunted from how long he was scratching at his pants and skin while remembering all those memories he locked away. He tries to dig his nails in and cling, but his voice fails him and his nails can’t even find purchase on your skin, you slip out of his hands as easily as an eel.

He’s going to lose you. He might’ve lost you already.

Dazai thinks that’s worse than the realization that he really might be about to die.

The car comes to a stop much quicker than Dazai had hoped, and he stiffens when you waste no time before getting out of the car. He makes no move to join you outside, and Chuuya sighs next to him.

“Get out,” Chuuya says flatly. When Dazai doesn’t budge again, Chuuya snaps, “Get out of the car-”

“-and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

Dazai draws his knees to his chest, breath becoming a bit labored as his aunt’s voice echoes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize that Chuuya has gotten out of the car until Dazai’s car door is pried open. For a split second, he confuses the executive with his aunt as he’s yanked out of the car—he’s fourteen again and being abandoned by the only person he has left, and he can just barely bite back the “don’t leave me here!” that almost spills from his lips as his knees hit the ground hard.

Dazai is instantly hit with a thick scent that makes him gag. It’s noxious, almost entirely unbearable, clogs his throat to the point he almost struggles to breathe—a blend of rot, acrid chemicals, and something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s sickeningly sweet. As he pushes himself to his feet, he notices you pass your gun over to Chuuya, but in that moment, Dazai is more concerned with figuring out where he is, and when he does, his stomach drops.

The dumping grounds by ports stretch endlessly under the heavy, overcast sky. Mounds of trash rose like grotesque hills patched with scraps of torn plastic and suspicious lumps that Dazai doesn’t have to get close to know what they are. The ground is uneven and treacherous—a mix of sticky mud and sharp shards of discarded glass and plastic, and pools of murky water shimmering with oil slicks. 

It’s disgusting, and Dazai has a feeling it might be his final resting place. 

He trails over to the side of the road and his gaze tracks down to the ground directly below him. It’s not a far drop, hardly a foot or two, and certainly less gross than some of the other parts of the area, but that’s a low bar to meet. He tears his eyes away from the scenery around him to look back at you, lips parted to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re leaning against the front of the car, watching him with an expression that Dazai can’t describe. Sad, maybe, resigned. Chuuya is back in the car, from what Dazai can tell, he's still fiddling with your gun—he wonders if this is his way of letting the two of you say goodbye in private.

“I do love you,” Dazai says. His voice cracks over the words. “No ulterior motives. No schemes. I just loved you. Love you.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, eyes drawing from him somewhere over to the side like you’re looking for something, but after a moment, you look back at him, your face a little softer than it was before.

“I know,” you tell him quietly. “I know, Osamu.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something back—he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, because confusion fogs his mind. If you know, then why-

Why are you doing this?

He doesn’t get the chance to ask. The car door opens and Chuuya steps back out, he passes your gun back to you and Dazai sees you subtly slide something into his hand too, but he can’t tell what it is. You sigh as you look down at the gun before looking back up at him again, he holds his breath as you make your way closer to him.

His lashes flutter shut, expecting to feel the cool barrel of the gun against his forehead, but his breath hitches when he instead feels the familiar warmth of your hand cradling his cheek. Your fingertips are flaked with Ace’s dried blood, but Dazai still leans into your touch, eyes sliding back open to look at you.

Up close, your expression is twisted with regret and… is that fear? Dazai can’t tell, he doesn’t care, he’s more preoccupied with memorizing the image of you before he runs out of time to.

“Forgive me,” you whisper so faintly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

“I do,” he replies just as softly.

Your face crumbles as you look away. You take a step away from him, and your hand drops down from his face. Dazai instantly mourns the loss. You let out a heavy, shaky breath, sparing one last look down at the gun in your hand, one to Chuuya who stands half a step behind you, and then you look at Dazai again.

“Forgive me,” you say again, this time as you lift the gun—your voice is raspy, breath uneven.

Your fingers tremble so violently that the whole gun is unsteady, but Dazai doesn’t even care to look at it, gaze focused on your face instead. 

“I do,” Dazai repeats.

You pull the trigger. 

[alchemistc]

Buck's halfway through his third cup of startlingly bad coffee when Josh pushes the door to the breakroom open, looking mildly concerned in the half second before someone else looms over his shoulder.

He's too numb to do much more than take another sip of coffee as he watches Josh usher Tommy in.

The door clicks shut behind him. Buck wonders for a moment if Tommy's ever actually been to the new dispatch headquarters before. If he ever went to the old one, charming grin on his face while he waited for Abby to finish up so he could take her out, drive her home while her car was in the shop - but no, Tommy would have worked on it himself, maybe.

Had Josh recognized him, that first time, with half of his soot on Buck's face, and just never said anything?

The silence is tense. They're in a fishbowl, no room to lash out even if either of them wanted to because more than half the people working in this place can see them if they just tip their head to the side.

"How can I help?"

It's - his voice is strained, scared, worried. Buck doesn't have a single guess as to how he knows. Maybe Bobby. It's the only person he can think of who would have -.

Buck snorts. "I rebounded with a serial killer who just kidnapped my sister and my baby niece or nephew. I don't - I'm not sure what you want."

He glances up just in time to see the end of Tommy's grimace. Good. He's not sure how much more disastrous of a choice he could have made to try to get Tommy out of his system, but at least it hurts him to know. At least...

"Do you want me to go?"

Buck can't remember anyone asking, before. Usually they just... leave. Get up, walk out, disappear. Tommy bubbled Buck five times in three months. Buck went through seven bags of flour before he drove Eddie to the airport.

His voice shakes on his "No," and Tommy is there, all of the sudden, his hand hovering just over Buck's shoulder, like he realized halfway there it might not be welcome. "Do you still think I need to keep looking for someone better than you?"

It'd been seeing Tommy out with a guy that'd prompted him to stop fucking baking and make an effort to just...get over it But with Eddie away, and the rest of the 118 so wrapped up in their lives, there weren't a whole lot of outlets for that. And it's been easy to willfully misinterpret Tommy's breakup speech. Or - interpret it in the most hurtful way possible.

"Is this what you want to do right now?" Tommy asks, even and measured. "Will this help?"

"I want my sister back!"

Tommy takes a step back. His hands shift to his pockets, and Buck just wants -

"Why are you here?"

He tips his head up. Holds Tommy's gaze. Tommy flounders in a way Buck's never seen before.

He looks - tired. Good. White Henley under a flannel Buck had always told him brought out his eyes. The jeans Buck had stolen once or twice because they made his ass look good. His hair's grown in at the sides, and the sprinkling of greys are more obvious than the last time he'd seen it this length.

"I just... didn't want you to be alone."

Tears threaten at the corners of his eyes. He wants to laugh, but he's terrified if he starts he won't be able to hold in the fear. "When did that change?"

Tommy gnaws on his cheek. "You have so many people, Buck. You have -."

"I don't want emotional repression Tommy here, so if you're just here to keep me distracted until someone else can be here you should just... go."

Something flashes in his gaze. Anger, maybe. Terror.

"Please let me stay."

It hurts, to hear it. It hurts to hear the trepidation in his voice as he says it. Buck just wants to pull him in, tuck his face into the curve of his neck, soak in the warmth of his arms.

Buck spends too long staring at his knees. Long enough for Tommy to shift, to sigh, to nod his head decisively out of the corner of Buck's eye.

The word is stuck in his throat. Has been for months, since Tommy looked at him with teary eyes and walked away.

"I won't be able to let you go again."

He's already half turned away. Buck can only see half his expression as his eyes dip closed. He swallows. Nods, again.

Buck can't watch him push back through that door, so he stares at the toes of his boots until his vision starts to blur.

A second pair of toes swim into his eyeline. A hand shifts through his curls, snagging on knots, digging towards his scalp, and he can't quite bite back the sob. The arms that reach for him are warm, big and familiar, and Buck gives himself over to the panic and the fear that have been clawing at his chest for hours now. Tommy says something - whispers it into the air above Buck's head over and over, but Buck can't - he just -

He presses his face into Tommy's stomach, digs his fingers into the back of his shirt, sucks in horrible, gasping breaths. It's not enough. Nothing will be until he's got Maddie in his arms.

But it's more than he had an hour ago.

"Stay," he manages, and Tommy's fingers curl around Buck's neck and hold.

[nuria-schnee]

Dead Boy Detectives - Fic Rec List (Part 1)

I've been wanting to do a rec list for a while, and now I have found a bit of time to do so. I've read A LOT of DBD fics in the past months, so I'm gonna split this rec list so this doesn't get insanely long. Also, check the tags of the fic because I'm just adding a few for length's sake.

Anyway, let's dive in! ❤️

Run your fingers through my soul by Hse11z5 (@thenyoumaykissthebride)

| T | 3k | Tags: Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Feelings Realization, Miscommunication, Idiots in Love, Fluff |

“Charles-” Edwin started, his voice catching over his friend’s name. “Just let me… Can I go first, please?” Charles begged, his hands still caught up with Edwin’s. Edwin nodded and swallowed the words he wanted to let escape. “Okay. Don’t be mad. But there’s no case.” Edwin scowled and opened his mouth. Charles winced. “I said don’t be mad! Now, I had to bring you here because there’s something really important I’ve been needing to tell you for a while now and it’s that-” Charles stopped. His hands fell to his side because he no longer had Edwin’s hands to hold. One second Edwin was there and then the next he just… wasn’t. Charles looked around madly, trying to work out what had happened, what kind of magic could have caused him to just disappear in a puff of smoke. That was when he saw the small orb bobbing behind the board games. aka The One Where Charles Fucks Up His Love Confession So Badly Edwin Orbs Out.

Notes: This was the cutest thing ever. I loved it so much, I swear.

and at once i knew i was not magnificent by aletterinthenameofsanity (@aletterinthenameofsanity)

| T | 3k | Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator |

The problem with being Charles Rowland- or, rather, the truth of being Charles Rowland- is that he is not somebody that people kiss because they truly want to. Or rather, because they truly want him. When he was alive, it was because girls wanted the other guys on the team and he was a decent second option. It was because girls wanted to try out kissing and he did too and why not figure out their problems together? And now that he's dead, it's more of the same, isn't it? Crystal kisses him to try to feel something. And Edwin kisses him because their mouths are close together, and Edwin has just helped Charles through his crisis about his father and Brad and Hunter, and emotions are high, and, well- It makes sense that Edwin kisses Charles right now, doesn't it? It makes sense that Edwin is testing something out, and Charles is the person he trusts to test things out with. (Edwin kisses Charles at the end of Dead Dragons. Charles thinks that Edwin is doing it for practice. Edwin will just have to correct him, won't he?)

Notes: This broke my heart in a million pieces, but it was very worth it. This fic is absolutely brilliant.

the great snogging debacle of '95 by thatgayprince (@prince-simon)

| M | 26k | Tags: First Kiss, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Disguise, Gender Fuckery, Near Sex Experience, Charles Rowland Has ADHD (DCU), Bisexual Charles Rowland (DCU), Internalized Homophobia, Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse |

London, 1995 – Charles Rowland gets ambushed at a house party. He doesn’t think about it for the next 30 years.

Notes: Look, I'll be forever screaming about this one. It was amazing from the first word to the last. I think it rewired my brain, because I couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards.

i’ll be waiting for twenty years (praying for redemption) by aletterinthenameofsanity (@aletterinthenameofsanity)

| E | 4k | Tags: Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Canon, First Kiss, First Time, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Religious Imagery & Symbolism |

The kindest thing that anyone has ever done for Charles was guide him to death. The cruelest thing that anyone has ever done is tell Charles that they would rather Charles have left with Death in that attic than stuck around. Charles has spent the last thirty years being haunted by the same ghost, of course. What an irony that Charles only started being haunted after he died. (What an irony that Charles only realized he was in love after that same ghost proved that Charles still had a heart in his dead chest, because that heart had broken the moment that Edwin had turned on his heel and left a shattered Charles in the place they once called a home.) And yet, Charles cannot stop wishing for Edwin to just turn around. For Edwin to just turn around and smile and laugh as he did in that attic. For Edwin to smile at him, for Edwin to accept him back, for Edwin to love him. (Edwin and Charles go their separate ways in 1990 and spend the next thirty years pining for each other. Don't worry, they'll figure things out eventually.)

Notes: The way this broke my heart and put it back together, I swear- Absolutely amazing. It's angsty and it hurts, but I have no regrets. I wanted to give it a thousand kudos (please, AO3, let me).

so I try to talk refined by shadowquill17 (@shadowquill17)

| E | 6k | Tags: POV Charles Rowland (DCU), Self-Esteem Issues, Internalized racism, Jealousy, Oblivious Charles Rowland (DCU), Misunderstandings |

Edwin tells Charles about the Cat King taking his appearance and Charles, after he's done being angry, thinks about it some more and comes to the conclusion that the only reason that could happen and Edwin could still be more flustered by the Cat King when he didn't look like Charles... is that Edwin doesn't find Charles attractive. He has no idea why it feels so painful.

Notes: This made me feel INSANE in the best of ways. I re-read it often and enjoy it as much as the first time. Thank you, @shadowquill17, for this amazing fic.

That Story Ends Tragically by Alexander_Writes (@neitherthehoneynorthebee)

| M | 12k | Tags: Ep 7 canon divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Pre-Canon Scenes, Violence, Internalized Homophobia, Trauma, Love Confessions, First Kiss |

"Can you explain this?" Charles begged. "Charles, don't leave," said the boy behind them. Edwin glared, but forcefully smoothed his expression when he looked back at Charles. "Hell is ... perceptive. It likes to snare souls. What is ..." He swallowed, throat moving with it. "What is the thing that you are most scared of, right now?" "Losing you." Or, what if Charles got lost trying to find Edwin in Hell?

Notes: MY GOD THE BRILLIANCE OF THIS. This was so well written it had me on the edge of my seat from start to end. The angst and the resolution of it were incredible.

Turnabout's Fair Play by LikeMmmCookies (@likemmmcookies)

| E | 7k | Tags: Edwin learns to flirt, Charles is down so bad, Edwin wears SHORTS, Charles walks into a door about it, Cute and silly, Cheesy flirting |

Edwin learns how to flirt.

Notes: This one had me giggling and kicking my feet because it was so amazing. It was such a fun and sweet read that I just had to include it in this list.

A gentleman by Superfriki

| Not Rated | 2k | Tags: First Kiss, Getting Together, Courting Rituals, Fluff, Love Confessions, Charles being a simp, Niko and Charles being friends |

“Niko, I can’t walk into the office with a flower bouquet and ask Edwin to let me court him. He would shit himself and run the other way” He looked at the girl, worry etched into his brow. “Don’t worry, you can do some things before that. Maybe you could start by getting him a gift or being a gentleman with him” “Oi! I’m always a gentleman with him” - Or Charles tries to woo Edwin in the Edwardian way.

Notes: ABSOLUTE FLUFF. The love. The courting. Everything about is a 10/10.

The Case of Richard Rowland by RB (BlueflowersandWings) (@writerofstuff)

| M | 31k | Tags: Post-Canon, Case Fic, Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Romantic Tension, Mutual Pining |

"Right on time, Charles," Edwin calls as he phases in through their office door. "It seems that we have a new client. We were just about to—" Charles freezes. "As I was saying," Charles' father coughs, sat across from Edwin with his back to the door, "my name is Richard Rowland, and I believe I have been murdered." — Or: Charles' father dies on a Sunday. On Monday, he arrives at the doorstep of the Dead Boy Detective Agency.

Notes: One of my all-time faves, honestly. This one hit me in the feelings with such force and shook me so fundamentally I had to stare at the wall for a bit after reading some scenes. It's angsty, but it's brilliantly written. Thank you @writerofstuff for this masterpiece.

a part of me that will never be mine by tragedy_machine (@tragedy-machine)

| E | 22k | Tags: Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Unreliable Narrator, Oblivious Edwin Paine, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions |

Edwin tells Charles he loves him in Hell, but when Charles quickly responds with his own breathless 'I love you', Edwin assumes his friend meant it platonically, so he gives up halfway through his confession, leaving out the crucial 'I'm in love with you' part. Dejected, he decides to keep his feelings a secret. Meanwhile, Charles has been in love with his best mate for years, so when they unexpectedly exchange 'I love yous' on the staircase of Hell, Charles happily assumes that they've just started dating and are just going at a really slow pace. Needless to say, they're not really on the same page. --- OR: because of a misunderstanding during the confession in Hell, Charles thinks they're dating now, while Edwin believes his love will stay unrequited forever

Notes: This fic has my whole heart, I swear. It's one of my faves ever, and the sensation of receiving the email when it was updated was unparalleled. A true jewel. Thank you @tragedy-machine

pinch me (I don't want this to be a dream) by shadowquill17 (@shadowquill17)

| E | 15k | Tags: Accidental Mind Reading, Light Angst, Oblivious Charles Rowland (DCU), Misunderstandings, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Getting Together|

Charles has never met a magical object he didn’t want to use. He might have gotten cursed a couple times over the years, but he also found some great stuff that way, and it keeps his afterlife exciting, you know? So when he and Edwin find something called “Desire’s Pince-Nez”, spelled glasses that make you see someone’s desires if you look into their eyes, Charles doesn’t really think twice before trying them on.

Notes: This one killed me and revived me with every line. I cannot express properly how much I loved it, but it's one of the fics I re-read most often, so I guess that says something. Seriously, it's amazing,.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack: Chapter 6

Trigger Warnings: none

The journey home was insatiable. It was awkward and quiet. Seungmin had even attempted to turn on the radio while he drove back but Felix turned it off with a huff. There were too many thoughts going around his head. Why did Minho bring her to his home? Why couldn't Minho have warned him? What is she thinking? Does she hate humans? Is Olivia going to pry? What's mum going to think? Felix felt stressed and conflicted. He wasn't annoyed at Y/N whatsoever but the situation put pressure on him. "So how's Chan hyung?" Seungmin asked as he put a dent in the awkward silence. "Jaehee's breaking his bones today. He's not healing. She's worried one of the wolves may have had a poisonous bite and that's caused Chan to struggle to fight the infection and heal." Minho answered plainly as he played with Y/N's hand. Minho looked up and gave her a soft smile as he squeezed her hand. "Why didn't Jaehee pick this up before?" Seungmin asked, there was concern in his voice as he thought about the weeks his alpha was suffering. Minho sighed and looked out of the window. "Because Chan is stubborn. He didn't want Y/N to worry so he's been trying to fight it. He even asked me to try and cut parts out of his leg." Minho stated. "You did what?" Y/N asked worriedly. "I told him it was stupid," Minho muttered. "The things you do for love!" Seungmin clicked his tongue. "Oh. You want to talk about doing things for love. The last time you did something for love you nearly killed yourself." Minho growled, smacking the younger beta's head.

Y/N could see Minho really cared about the younger wolf despite his aggression towards him. It made Y/N smile as she saw the beta glare through the wing mirror. "If puppy asked to sacrifice me in a ritual I would do it," Seungmin stated proudly while the three of them looked at him with concern. They were slightly disturbed by the confession. "That's not normal Minnie," Y/N stated. "She's right," Felix added. "What? It doesn't matter. Anyways. My love is exclusively for Y/N only." Seungmin answered causing them to roll their eyes, but the concern of Seungmin's confession didn't go unnoticed by Minho. Minho was aware of Seungmins intense emotions but he was worried about how this would lie with Y/N, because once Seungmin becomes obsessed he never lets it go. As soon as Seungmin is fixated on something, he will not stop until it's deep within his grasp. It worried Minho and right now Y/N seemed oblivious to it. She seemed unfazed by his words as if he joked about them a lot, and he did make slight comments about her. About owning her. It was strange, but Minho didn't want to alarm anyone, not yet at least, but was it Seungmin he needed to worry about or another wolf in the house?

Seungmin pulled up to the side of the house, parking next to Chan's car before snacking his car door against Chan's car. "Careful." Minho grumbled, causing the beta to shrug. Y/N shook her head and got out of the car noticing Hyunjins car had gone. "He's gone to the shops with Jisung to get you a phone," Minho said. "A phone?" Y/N was confused. "Yeah, because how else are you supposed to know where we are if we're late? It's also easier for you to get a hold of us without using one of us." Minho explained. "Oh." Y/N nodded as she shut the door. "Wait," Felix called as he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him so that he could embrace her. His head fell straight into her neck tightly. "Felix!" Y/N cooed as she stroked his hair affectionately. "I can explain. Hear me out. There's a reason I never told you and you probably worked it out when you smelt them. And I never wanted them to know or you to find out. And I-" "Felix calm down. It's alright. I don't care what they are. I just want to understand. That is all." Y/N promised as she lifted his head up, looking into his frazzled eyes. It was a secret that some of the wolves didn't know and it was a lot for him to reveal it. "Felix. I want to know." Y/N pleaded. Felix nodded and nudged her towards the car. He could feel Minho listening and he didn't like that.

Y/N opened the car door and sat on the back seat, watching Felix climb in. He was nervous. Y/N could tell. It was the way he kept looking back as if he was going to be caught. Felix took a deep breath and rubbed his face as he built up the courage to tell her. "My father is an omega and my mother is human. My mother doesn't know my father is a werewolf. Fuck. I don't know how to explain this." Felix looked up at the roof of the car as he tried to find the right words. "My father came from an omega pack. He was a part of the revolution against alphas. There were nineteen in their pack, but they were divided in beliefs so a schism happened. My father stayed with his pack. I think there were six or seven. I can't remember what he told me but apparently war happened with a head alpha and when the head omega wanted to take them out my father ran away. He ran because he didn't want to be executed. My mum was carrying Rachel, so he couldn't do that to her. My mum believed he got into some trouble growing up so they moved into the house you saw. Then I came along and then Olivia came." "But how are you a werewolf? I don't understand." Y/N whispered. "I don't know, but my father picked up on the signs and tried to teach me everything he knew. My father believes I could have been a beta because of a recessive gene but who knows? Chan found me through my father who was looking for a werewolf pack at the time to teach me. The thing was Chan had a high opinion of omega packs back then, as long as I was loyal to him, Chan would never hand over my father." Felix stated with an awkward smile as if the whole situation was tough luck. He looked at Y/N whose brown eyes watched him as she tried to piece together what he had said. "I didn't tell you because I didn't know how you would react. Many werewolves are prejudiced or fearful of omega packs. Even Minho hyung despises them along with Hyunjin and Seungmin so it wasn't like I could say anything to them. Only Chan and Jeongin really know. The others have speculation but have never asked. I guess I also worried because of what happened with you and Ateez, I didn't want it to escalate further and target my family." "Oh, Lixie. I'm not mad. I was hurt for three minutes but I knew there was something more because we promised we would always tell each other." Y/N reached out and cupped his face in her hands. Her warmth made him close his eyes. "What I think is an omega pack is pretty cool and I support that because us omegas are treated badly you know."

Felix grunted lowly at her obnoxious thoughts. He didn't need her deciding to rebel against them. "My love. Don't even think about it. You are treated well. If not spoilt." Felix grumbled. "Me spoilt? Definitely not it depends on what you categorise as spoilt." Y/N stated causing him to roll his eyes. "I am sorry I didn't say anything when you came into the room. I kind of panicked and I couldn't exactly say you were my girlfriend when Seungmin had his hands wrapped around you, but then I felt guilty. So. So. So guilty baby. Not only that Rachel is so judgemental and I didn't want her to even have those thoughts about you." Felix stressed causing Y/N to roll her eyes. "I mean technically I am a whore-" Felix put his hand over her mouth, silencing her with a glare. "Do not ever say that. Ever." Felix growled. "Yes, Lixie." Y/N teased as she kissed him. She missed his kisses. They were always so loving and tender. They were delicate, like him. "Do you ever worry something may happen?" Y/N asked. "My father expects it but I worry for my mother and sisters. They never asked to be apart of this world and I want to keep it hidden from them." Felix answered. "If they do I will rebel," Y/N stated as she crossed her arms. "If you do. I can punish you now. You've been claimed." Felix said as his yellow eyes glowed slightly. "Um. Hello. Seungmin is that you?" Y/N teased, causing Felix to growl and chase her out of the car. Things were starting to get better despite the small cracks that were starting to show.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx @atinyrosedoor @skz-ot8-stay @poetryforthesad @emi-han @galaxy4489

[orangetintedglasses]

"Then why not just say 'lab rats'... or maybe 'tomb' would fit nicer, since it doesn't seem like anyone's been here for a long goddamn time..." the man grumbled right back, giving the door a very stern sneer before huffing and turning, facing the Plant room door with them. "What do you two need in there?"

And maybe it was just Vash's trusting nature that pulled a response from him, or maybe he was just thoroughly thrown off by the waves of cloying unease, so heavy that it actually felt like his gait was changing, dragging-- whatever the reason, he swallowed, and said, "we were asked to come here... the Plants here provide power and resources to a bunch of nearby towns and settlements, and now they're not working right..."

Not the entire truth, but not a lie, either. The Captain looked as though he wanted to say something, maybe press further... but accepted the answer without another word, just nodding and turning his attention back to the door. Odd, but Vash couldn't really bring himself to care enough to ask for his thoughts. Might as well follow them if he'd gotten this far, right? When has following Vash the Stampede ever been a problem?

... that's a joke, universe. Just a joke.

Wolfwood was definitely right, though, they should really just... get this done and get out. The undertaker had been stuck down here long enough, and Vash's curiosity about what this place was (or used to be?) was rapidly beginning to deteriorate under the waves of emotion threatening to topple him...

Once the door registered their 'confirmed' status, it happily opened for them-- the room itself housed two rows of Plants along a walkway, filling the room with shades of both cyan, and... unfortunately, red. Some of them were withering. Some of them weren't. But all of them were unfurled and active, and radiating a collective anguish so powerfully crushing that it yanked the breath from Vash's lungs in the form of a ragged, startled cry.

The Independent couldn't take more than one step forward before his legs buckled underneath the invisible weight, and sent the blond to his knees--

Wolfwood allows Vash to grab him however he needs to—if he can do anything to keep the Independent grounded, he will. Touch seems to be effective enough.

And, well, he might need something to ground himself, because this area sure does look familiar. So familiar that he finds himself extremely concerned with the term "Housing Cells." The facility that he grew up in had a junction just like this in one of the wings. The only difference was that instead of the foreboding name of the leftmost door, it was titled with the word "Subjects." Somehow this feels more dehumanizing.

"It's probably where they put their lab rats," Wolfwood grumbles, quite familiar with how the Eye... functions. "There might be some still in there. Can't speak for their health though. Depends on how fast and why the Eye left this lab."

... 'And how long ago' remains unspoken, but mutually understood.

"Our destination's straight ahead, right Blondie? Maybe we should get in and get out."

He's not sure if he plans on allowing this random guy to traipse around the place after he leaves... but... Wolfwood really doesn't want to stick around.

[ssentimentals]

omgomgomg your drabbles are to die for 🥰

could you do fluff prompt 16 with woozi?

awww this is so cute, hehe, thank you! and thank you for requesting, of course 💜 hopefully you will like it!

fluff prompt: 'what's on your mind? i want to listen.'

silence is something that is not appreciated enough, in woozi's humble opinion. he always found it so weird how people try to run away from silence and feel uncomfortable in it, while wooozi finds peace and strength there. having someone to be comfortable with in total silence felt like an unreachable dream for him for quiet some time, but then he met you. at first he was so cautious in getting his hopes up, but the more time he spent with you, the more he enjoyed your company and started to look forward to it. even now when you enter the studio, woozi perks up, smiling at you: 'hey there.'

you look up, smiling back at him. 'hi. i brought coffee.'

you are the sweetest, woozi thinks but what he says is: 'thank you, appreciate it.' he watches as you place a cup next to him before moving to your own desk. 'how was your weekend?'

when your smile widens, woozi fully turns to face you, ready to listen. he loves watching you, enjoys seeing emotions change on your face, likes hearing your voice. he absolutely adores silence with you because it's never awkward or forced, but he loves even more to talk to you. you spend some time catching up on your weekends and then both turn back to the work, letting silence envelop you two in this small space. it's cozy, dare woozi say. it's something he likes to bask in and he knows that what makes it cozy is you, your presence. woozi brings nothing to this silence, but you bring your warmth, your acceptance, your sweet attitude. he wants to stay in this atmosphere as much as he can and hopes you feel the same.

'what's on your mind?' woozi asks, when he notices how you stare off into the distance. his voice is soft and it doesn't startle you; you turn to him with a shy smile. 'tell me. i want to listen.'

you first hesitate but then you start talking about the dream you had last night and woozi discreetly turns off his laptop, not wanting any kind of distractions, not wanting to miss a second of you. he wonders if he'll ever have a courage to tell you exactly this. he hopes he will.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

OKAY HELLO UH. SAVANACLAW DREAM UPDATE SPOILERS ?!?!!2!!2!2

THE. WAY BOTH JACK AND RUGGIE ADMIRE LEONA SO MYCH AND FEATURE HIM IN THEIR DREAMS 😭😭😭😭 Jack making Leona basically nOT HAVE DEPRESSION QUFBWKANDK 😭😭 and making him a fair player... Jack my boy... your dream is lovely but you made him do stuff hED NEVER DO 😭😭

AND RUGGIE. THE FACT HE AND LEONA NEVER MET IN THIS DREAM *BUT* THE AMAZING DRESM SCHOOL HE ATTENDS WAS SKGNKENAKjfkenalNIfjeksksn MADE/PROPOSED TO BE MADE (?) BY LEONA 😭😭😭 AND HE SAYS THAT PRINCE LEONA IS MORE POPULAR THAN FALENA AMONGST TYE YOUTH AJFNWKNudnekskalakdknsk tHEY WANT ME DEAD. D E A D.

and then ... ruggie says smth about him choosing the king he'll follow and LATER WHEN REFERRING TO LEONA HE SAYS SMTH TO JACK LIKE. "LET'S GO WAKE UP OUR KING" I'm fuckifnwjzbslakznaklNdkdkals akehueuqjakansksk THEY ADORE HIM SO MUCH. I CAN'T DO THIS.

So this means we'll get a full chapter ONLY for Leona's dream... I don't think we'll see him crying like Jack and Ruggie but GOD IF WE DO SEE THAT I'LL BE FOUND DEAD- i just knowwww that whichever way they go w it (the "he already knows it's a dream theory" or SMTH else), there WILL BE drama and I *WILL* die internally... my Leona plushies will pay the price (they will be hugged very tightly)

[Referencing the book 7 part 11 update!]

Me, coping: Oh, the book 7 Savanaclaw update is split into two parts? That means the first part must be dedicated to Jack and Ruggie and the second part must be Leona only. Surely this means I am free from being sniped in the Jack and Ruggie segment. Me, from the future:

. . .

ME EXPERIENCING THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF ALL AT ONCE

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT 💀💀💀 I was kind of expecting some element of respecting their dorm leader to come up (definitely for Jack's), BUT NOT THIS EXTENT OTL

Of the two, Jack's dream was the more obvious one to feature Leona in a very positive light. His admiration for the guy was clear ever since book 2, in which Jack--someone who regularly sucks at expressing his feelings--confessed MULTIPLE TIMES that it was Leona's passionate magift play on TV that inspired Jack to follow in his footsteps. And that's why he was so disappointed to learn that the guy he admired all along was a scumbag that would play dirty to get ahead. The Leona in Jack's dream might be that version that Jack had in his head... The Leona he yearns for the attention and praise of, the Leona he thought was a virtuous leader who values hard work and good sportsmanship, the kind of person who gives speeches to inspire his team and helps people up by the hand when they fall. Another reading could be that this is the Leona Jack believes is still possible if he works toward it, because this dream seems to be set a YEAR after their loss to Diasomnia. And this is Leona at his best and most dangerous because he's throwing literally everything he has into this training, so he'll probably do the same in combat; Yuu and co. have to develop a whole strategy in advance to isolate Jack because they KNOW they're going to get blasted by dream!Leona if they give any inkling of trying to wake the dreamer up. JACK LITERALLY DREAMED ABOUT LEONA THRIVING, BEING HIS BEST SELF... Jack, the self-proclaimed LONE WOLF, who claims he doesn't like GROUP ACTIVITIES/SPORTS, longs to be part of the pack that LEONA leads... But he won't follow just anyone, Jack has standards AND LEONA APPARENTLY MEETS ALL OF THEM (or, in Jack's eyes, Leona can meet those standards).

THEN WHEN JACK WAKES UP... Hoo, boy... The way he was smiling but then broke down into shouts and sobs... That's literally got to be my favorite kind of emotional distress (part of why I loved Idia's breakdown when he was introducing his newly built little brother to the Styx researchers). You can hear how betrayed he feels in his voice, all the raw emotion that didn't come through as strongly in book 2. ASKHLBLBIASDIVDAI SORRY TO DUNK ON BOOK 2 AGAIN BUT IT'S TRUE. Jack's feelings of betrayal... They were so blunted there, it felt like he was reacting to a minor setback (he seems to easily shrug off being called a traitor by the guy he supposedly admires) rather than genuinely being hurt. I'm glad that the emotional weight that wasn't addressed then is finally getting the spotlight it deserves now.

Then Ruggie's dream???? 😭 That one caught me SO off-guard. The way it opens with Yuu and co. suspecting it's Leona's dream because they arrived in Sunrise City, one of the few industrialized places in Sunset Savanna... The lore review of how it's difficult to get the people to get behind developing the land due to how it would negatively impact the nature they want to live in harmony with (plus the brand-new reveal that these disagreements can become VIOLENT)... and Idia realizing that this, THIS is why Leona actually decided to take an internship at an energy and mining lab back home--because Leona realized he cannot change the country on his own, no matter how often he butts heads with his brother. He needs even more knowledge and a team to work with him. An NPC donut vendor lady randomly drops it on us that it's thanks the PRINCE LEONA that Ivorycliff Academy was able to be established. Not only that, but turns out Leona has graduated already and has spent his time after NRC building schools and establishing magift teams for Sunset Savanna (the latter being something Leona expressed interest in, as having a national sport and/or famous sporting teams can enhance his country's soft power). AND HE'S MORE POPULAR AMONG THE YOUTH THAN FALENA IS???????? MR. LEONA I-HATE-DEALING-WITH-KIDS KINGSCHOLAR IS POPULAR WITH... THE KIDS????? ? ?? ?? ?? ? ?? ?????? ?? ? 💀 The guy who claims to only help the underclassmen because they'd otherwise be an inconvenience to him... is admired by the same underclassmen... and now that has translated over to Ruggie's dream as the youth of Sunset Savanna loving him... OTL YOU'RE KIDDING ME RIGHT/????? ? ??? ? ??v????? ? ? ????

The most bewildering detail to me about Ruggie's dream is that he and Leona haven't met at all; Ruggie acts pretty clueless when asked about it and Leona graduated from a completely different school than him (NRC). There's no way they could have met, yet the dream still deemed that Leona was an important enough aspect of Ruggie's life that he was incorporated into it... and, unlike in real life, Leona now has the influence to make these systematic changes not just for bettering Ruggie's life, but the lives of everyone in Sunset Savanna...

UUUURURUGUUGHHGHHHHHHHGHGHHHHHHH H H HH H H HHHHHHH H H H HH H H AND THEN WWHEN RUGGIE FINALLY WAKES UP AND AND ANADNANDANDANASHADSNADSNADSNAN NDDDSDD SD SM ADSB,M ADSDBSM DDD HE CALLS HE WON'T FOLLOW A "FAKE KING", HE WANTS TO CHOSOE THE KING HE FOLLOWS 😭😭😭 RUGGIE TELLS JACK THEY SHOULD GO AND WAKE UP "OUR KING"... Ruggie, who constantly complains about how easy rich people have it and how hard Leona makes him work for his coin, is standing right here and HE'S CHOOSING LEONA.

This is all so crazy to think about because back in book 6 (citing the moment that broke me Yet Again, lmao) Leona implied that while he has hope in others (like Jamil), HE DOESN'T HAVE THE SAME HOPE FOR HIMSELF. But there's literally his whole dorm who trust him to lead them and their futures as professional athletes 😭 Jack who believes Leona is capable of being that shining, ideal senpai he dreamed of... Ruggie who believes Leona can and will change not only his life for the better, but also the lives of marginalized beastmen like hyenas, the younger generation, and heck, why not their whole country too... OTL

THIS IS LITERALLY THE WORST POSSIBLE OUTDCOME FOR ME... . . . . ....... . .. . . . .. . / / / / / . . . .. . .. ... . . . ... . . YOU JAVE JACK'S DREAM SUPPLYING THE RELIABLE BIG BRO/ONII-SAN LEONA... THEN RUGIGE'S DREAM SUPPYL inG THE SMAR TDETERMINED PRINCE LEONA ... AND THEN NEXT UPDAT.E.XBBCXL V.CV . . . . . . . . ...... .. .. . . . . OTL ASCTUAL LEOPJNA DFGFAYVAFIVAVIYAIAGIGEIYGEPEIQAGfhgpaebpyrwqeg,hpgqeugqm[gqepg./l.,pjm9hmh4 gephmhurwhbaudavmudfsgnyofegnyoifui

GOD IF EW SEE THAT BITCH CRYi NG gkj eabihlaegbiaegibyegoqetpr13569 87q3tbkhl3o tyb6fOfonfOTFsugfaiugfanyoigFGION qit' S LEOVER FOR MEAMBFFVHAJVFFVEUGFO EOFAENYFEOFHdhmFSLJGADFsmf aLALLL OF HIS PENT IUP FRUSTRATIONS JUST SPILLING OIUT;V .F,DSBFAHLFLFFNODGOVSMHFAV UEGOFEAHMAEGDGSKPFSHIM THE RAGE AT MALLEUS DFN BAFVKJAFYGLAFGIDGIDGIODGSOIDN FOR FOTRICNG THIS LIE UPON HIMFDS NFASVAEFBLADFIOBY AGIOQEGONYFWmpdphGAMGobf IT'D BE SO SEXSYFDH HOT IF HE KNEW IT WAS A DREAM ALL ALONG PELEEEEEASE 🙏 I'M ONT MY HANDS NAD NDD KNEEESLSD DFS,SFHBAFLHAFDLI EO FQEYG VADGNOVSHUPVPUFFmhagyo 4wpeq/pll.,wjph9q80th9umpdbsaihoadnFSuov fsogyFSGUOFSu SNOGYAVUO FSA

.

.

. Ah-HEM!! 😇 Sorry, I don't know what overcame me... I just blacked out and when I came to I don't remember what I was doing or saying for the past several minutes 💖 Now if you'll excuse me, I am filled with an intense desire to enact violence on the nearest lion-shaped object I can get my hands on--

[wannabanauthor]

Tim Minear, here's a hint for you:

For BuckTommy, you don't even have to get them back together as a couple immediately.

You can bring Tommy back to give Buck some closure, and Buck can suggest they just be friends because he misses Tommy's company.

So they still hang out with each other and Eddie, and Buck finally feels ready to start dating again. He doesn't mention it to Tommy, but maybe one day someone lets something slip about Buck going on a great date with this amazing guy, and Tommy overhears it.

Since he broke up with Buck, he knows he can't really question Buck about it, but it still irks him for the very obvious reason that he's still in love with Buck but doesn't think it's fair to ask for a second chance after breaking Buck's heart.

But the slight twist is that Buck is genuine friends with the new guy he's dating, and they like to sleep together on occasion, but it's not an actual romantic relationship. Neither one of them are looking for something serious, but they enjoy each other's company. However, that's their own private business, so Buck hasn't told anyone else the details of his situation. He just allows everyone to believe he's dating.

He knows Tommy will find out eventually, but he doesn't want to tell him or bring it up because it'd be awkward.

Tommy is noticeably irritated and a little curt with Buck on the inside, but he maintains his mask perfectly so that Buck never catches on.

Until one night, they're about to leave for a movie, but Buck's "friend" calls and Buck has to cancel his plans with Tommy.

Tommy leaves, very upset and irritated, but he doesn't even make it to his car before he turns around goes back up to Buck's loft. He knows that nothing is official with Buck's friend, so he knocks on the door, and Buck answers it.

Tommy kisses him hard and closes the door behind him. Buck is in shock, much like the first time Tommy kissed Buck.

Tommy then just lets it all out. He tells Buck that he loves him and misses him, and he hates himself for ending things the way they did and for breaking both of their hearts. He says he thought he could handle Buck dating again, but he can't. He's still in love with him and wants him back. He's willing to do anything: seek counseling, starting over, even moving in with Buck on a trial run basis.

Buck starts crying and releases all the emotions/thoughts he's had/felt since Tommy broke up with him. He's angry, rightfully so, that Tommy hurt him and that it took seeing another man in Buck's life for Tommy to make a move. He asks why Tommy waited until now to really say anything. He talks extensively of all the ways Tommy hurt him when they broke up.

Then his final questions for Tommy are "Why now? Why are you willing to make an effort now and not months ago? Do you actually see a future with me? Or are you scared of being alone if I move on?"

Tommy confesses that he's always wanted a future with Buck, but he's scared of getting hurt again. But he acknowledges that Buck is not at fault for the way past partners have treated him, and he should have stayed and talked things over with Buck instead of ending things and walking away.

Buck kisses Tommy and says he misses him and loves him too. Tommy wipes away Buck's tears and kisses him again and again.

After a few smooches, Buck pulls back and clarifies that he's still angry and hurt over the breakup, but he wants to work through it. Tommy promises not to run away like that again, or at the very least tell Buck when he needs space to think something over before making a decision.

Then they work on their relationship until enough time has passed for them to be happily ever after.

Tim Minear, this storyline alone could last you a couple seasons since Tommy is a guest recurring character.

I'm throwing you a lifeline here, so take it and make something with it. Do what white men are known for and steal this idea and make it yours. Come on, you can do it. Prove to folks that you're not just a mediocre white man who skated by on privilege instead of talent.

Because the queer people of color in this fandom are doing a better job of explaining your mess than you are.

That is all.

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'birthday cake' - logan howlett x wade wilson

summary: logan buys wade a cake for his birthday and tries to convince himself it doesn't mean anything. (900 words) tags: kinda fluffy, kinda angsty, set a year after the movie, references to losing the x-men, feelings realisation, animal metaphors for logan, cussing, logan x wade. a/n: happy birthday deadpool!

birthdays. running a calloused hand across his stubbled jaw, logan eyes the cakes in the bakery aisle with disgust. when's the last time he celebrated a birthday? not since. . .

well.

not since.

he's not sure why he's here. except he is. yet he won't admit it. can't admit he gives a damn about that stupid red leather-wearing freak. isn't that what he's doing right now, though? a birthday cake, an admission of sorts?

logan grumbles, a deep rumble in the back of his throat. why was this so hard? why couldn't he just pick up a cake and go? or better yet, forget about this whole damn thing and go home?

home.

a word that still feels so foreign in his mind, a long-lost concept that's only recently begun to take root again despite his best efforts to weed it out. that's the thing with wade, he's persistent. fuck, he's extremely fucking persistent to a highly annoying degree. but it's funny how the things we want to deny the most are the things that turn out to be the best for us in the end.

there's a unicorn cake that catches his eye. an imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of logan's lips, a reluctant grin quirking up without permission. he can't help it. "god damn it," he mutters, letting out a soft exhale that could possibly be perceived as a laugh.

it isn't too late. he could back out now, snuff the candles out and toss the cake so hard into the garbage can that it explodes on impact, leaving no evidence behind. that'd probably be the best thing to do. because what the fuck was this?

the unicorn cake sits on the dining room table, a few candles placed carefully (yet still somehow messily) into the pink icing, thoughtfully avoiding the unicorn decorations and rainbows.

logan shuffles nervously on his feet, hands clasped behind his back. he can already hear wade's annoying squealing in his ear, fussing and yelling and talking and just always fucking talking.

he'd made a deliberate effort to ignore all of wade's incessant reminders, 'it's my birthday month peanut, gotta be nice to me', 'i made sure to cancel everything on your very empty calendar for my birthday'. but in reality, logan had it memorised from the moment he learned the date.

a key enters the door, and logan stiffens up, then forces himself to relax in an attempt to look nonchalant. he looks anything but, head tilted down with dark eyes glued to the door - watching, waiting, anticipating.

"holy fuck balls that traffic is ridiculous!" wade whines, closing the door and rolling his neck as though he'd been worked to the bone, "i swear, it's like none of those careless fuckers know it's my birthday - can you believe that? i was thinking about getting a tattoo, the date on my forehead, y'know, so that when anyone asks they-"

wade stops, finally looking into the open room, eyes landing on the flicker of the candles. then to logan, eyes softening. "you. . . got me a cake?" wade whispers in the softest tone logan's ever heard from him, voice thick with emotion. it hits him unexpectedly.

logan puffs his chest out, "don't make a big deal outta it, bub." he says firmly, eyes straying from wade's gaze. feels like his eyes are boring into him, he doesn't like it. doesn't like the way wade looks at him, really looks at him. that kinda look is dangerous, could make a man believe he deserves to be forgiven for all he did or didn't do. could make a man believe that he's allowed happiness, however strange or unusual that source of happiness may be.

when logan's eyes trail back to meet wade's, he's already in front of him, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug as he rests his cheek against his broad chest. logan huffs, making a sound of disapproval initially, yet makes no effort to move or push him away. instead, he settles, allowing it.

he knows wade must hear his heartbeat, the fact that it's fluttering in his chest. but wade only squeezes his arms around him tighter in response.

for once, the merc with a mouth is silent, basking in this moment the other has allowed. he's almost in disbelief. to some, and hell, maybe even logan himself, it looked like. . . well, just a cake.

but it symbolised so much more than that.

if wade has had his hand outstretched all this time, approaching the skittish animal threatening to lash out in learned survival instincts - then this is the gentle nudge from the animal's snout into his palm. a curious, tentative step forward. a willingness to let someone in, let someone help.

and god, wade won't mess this up, won't disappoint, despite the fact that it's all he thought he was good for, for a long ass time. if logan's taught him anything, it's that life is so much more than what you boil yourself down to. it's what others see in you, too.

wade's eyes pop open when he feels logan's firm hands hesitantly rest upon his back, giving a gentle pat. he bites his tongue, a mirage of sex jokes slinging through his filth-riddled mind. perhaps in a way, that was his own defense mechanism, push him away with just enough jokes to keep him guessing.

but not today.

because today logan bought him a cake. the same day that logan realised that he's hopelessly, ridiculously, disgustingly, annoyingly. . . in love.

[curly-my-beloved]

Jimmy with his girlfriend who also works on tulpar? It’s 100% abuse 🫶🏻 please I love him

TW: implied SA (coercion). physical, emotional and mental abuse. manipulation. gaslighting. jimmy mouthwashing starter pack.

Jimmy's partner on Tulpar

Jimmy is not abusive all the time. Only when you're doing something he doesn't like.

Don't get me wrong, that is extremely often, but he's very good at gaslighting you into thinking that he's not all that bad.

Hell, he's incredible at making the relationship seem happy. Feel happy. Maybe, in some way, even be happy. For a short while.

In those brief moments, you truly believe he loves you.

And maybe he does. His love is rather twisted and cruel, but it's still love. In his eyes, at least.

He doesn't hit you, before anyone asks. He doesn't. No.

He does, however, often grab and pull you around when nobody's looking.

The most physically violent thing he does is grab you and shove you against a wall. He's got a really strong grip on you, bruising, even.

He doesn't even yell at you, it's more of a furious harsh whisper when he's really mad. But that's only for the extreme situations and only when you're alone.

Usually, he just... gives you silent, somewhat discreet warnings.

If he's holding you in any way, you get a warning squeeze. Otherwise, it's a cold, emotionless glare that sends shivers down your spine.

He doesn't really need to do much to get you to listen. You're used to him being dominant in the relationship, after all.

Yeah... dominant...

Of course, you never really bring up to him if you feel wrong. You're happy, he loves you. He tells you he loves you. He shows you he loves you.

He always assures you about it at night. He loves you, he loves you so much, baby, you drive him mad...

You understand why he gets angry at you sometimes, don't you? He needs you to be only his, to stay with him, to love him, to never, ever leave him...

He's such a poor, wounded soul, you see that, right? You can't leave him. He doesn't mean to hurt you or be a bad boyfriend... you know he means well, right? You know he loves you, right?

And you love him too. You love him so much. It's why you agree to everything. To the pushing and pulling, to the love and hatred...

To the touching. Even if you don't want it. Even if you hate it.

You would never dare tell him to stop.

[twilightkitkat]

How does Logan’s inner animal work? It's not like a split personality right? It's a natural part of him. But does it have its own voice? Can Logan tap into it when he needs to? Or does it take over? Is his animal the actual Wolverine? Is this what causes his beserker rage paired with his PTSD? what does his animal do when he's happy and satisfied?

To be honest, I see Logan's "inner animal" in the same way people refer to an "inner child." It's a part of him, not a separate identity, but a part that sometimes is easier to give its own shape and voice to conceptualize it. It doesn't literally speak to him or have a voice, but he can recognize when his wants and instincts are driven by the "animalistic" part of him.

It doesn't take over so much as he lets his emotions control him. They are his feelings and instincts, it's all Logan, but he loses control of himself in a flurry of rage or intense emotion.

To outsiders, it looks like he becomes an animal, the way he forgoes pretense and snarls and growls while unsheathing his claws. Sometimes he forgets to speak and other people's words don't register because of how single-minded he becomes. But it's all Logan, just a suppressed side of him that comes with his mutation. The desires he doesn't outwardly express come out when he's so stressed or overwhelmed (or sometimes content) that he doesn't have enough clarity to mask them.

I think Logan takes after the Wolverine in his more animalistic traits and mutations. His instincts align with those of a Wolverine, as do his body language and animalistic behaviors. He resembles it in an uncanny way, even if he isn't an outright physical hybrid.

His berserker rage is caused by the single-mindedness he defaults to when angry. It's like the world closes in on him and all he can see is his goal and so much red that it coats his vision. He loses semblance of rational thought and relies on his instincts instead, causing him to go into a "feral" state. It's the effect of intense adrenaline mixed in with his heightened mutant instincts and his poor emotional regulation and his PTSD all mixed together into a fucked-up cocktail.

When he's happy or satisfied, his instincts take on a different form. He curls up like a cat and seeks out warmth, clinging to Wade and enjoying the sun. He lets out a low rumble resembling a purr, shutting his eyes and feeling himself go boneless. He becomes more affectionate and cuddly and territorial when happy, nuzzling against Wade but hissing when other people get too close.

[4only1]

Hiiii there!

So I don't know about your rules so if you uncomfortable it's okay!!! 😊

Can you write a story where shingen and reader are married but reader doesn't want to be married and just wants a life of her own. So she runs away not knowing she was pregnant and when she finds out, she decideds to keep the baby and gives birth to twins a boy and a girl. Awhile reader is happy, shingen has gone completely insane looking for her.

Every day some dies do to the fact they couldn't find reader. But shingen learns where reader is hiding and goes himself to get only to find out she has given birth to gun and his twin sister.

They rest can be up to you! 😊

Thank you! 😊

Fear and Loathing

Yamazaki Shingen x Reader Warning: Angst (I can't help myself) Masterlist ------------------------

It was all you felt for this lifestyle you had been forced into. Fear and loathing. Fear for the man you married, for the members of the clan who despised you enough to try and get rid of you. Loathing of the man you married, for the lifestyle forced upon you. 

Marriage was a silly thing to you. If it were actually your decision, you never would have married, let alone a man like Shingen Yamazaki. The man he once was had now become lethargic, empty, depressed. You didn’t like your married life before, and you certainly didn’t like it after his defeat. 

Once you were informed of the Yubitsume to take place, you couldn’t stay here any longer. It didn’t matter that you had supposedly sinned, you needed to leave. In the dead of night, you vanished. Nobody knew exactly how you left without so much as a trace, but it didn’t matter. What did, was the fact that Shingen was furious, with the other woman, with everyone who didn’t notice, but especially with you.

The bloodshed that followed was only contained once his brother, Shintaro, claimed they would find you. How he needed to put the clan first, and let them take care of finding you. Soon, one month passed, then two, then three, and as they did, Shingen became more restless. Where did you go, and what were you doing?

It was a taste of freedom unlike any other, one you had never known. You travelled far away, hidden within the depths of a small prefecture, no one knowing of who you truly were. You made a life for yourself, working at a small shop, supporting yourself, no longer constricted by the rules of the Yamazaki clan. Until you found out you were pregnant.

It wasn’t expected but not exactly surprising. You had been expected to give birth to the heir at some point, and it just had to be when you decided to run away. You decided to keep it, more trouble would come if you didn’t, and maybe if you delivered the heir, you could bargain for freedom for yourself. It was selfish, but you never asked for this life, and certainly not this child. 

As your pregnancy progressed, you became depressed at the fact of giving birth to the Yamazaki clan's heir. You couldn’t do this, this child would tie you to the clan forever, regret sank in. It hit even harder when you discovered it was twins.

Meanwhile, the Yamazaki clan was in shambles. Their leader had gone mad trying to find you, often taking his frustrations out on those around him. A trail of blood followed him, and it bleed for you. He was desperate as the months passed. He needed you, you didn’t have a choice, once he found you, you were never leaving his side again.

It was a week after you had given birth, over nine months since you ran away, that he appeared. Like you escaping through the night, his figure was a shadow, watching you, waiting. He was shocked to be greeted not only by you, but two infants as well. Exhaustion was obvious on your face, but it also held another emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve been hiding all this time, even after you discovered you were carrying my children. This game is over, it is time to return.”

He was blunt with his words, as always. He expected immediate action from you, instead, you remained seated, looking at him, that same indescribable emotion on your face. 

“I don’t think that will happen. I have served my duties as the wife by giving birth to the heir of the clan. You don’t need me anymore, and I don’t need you.”

“You don’t get a choice, you are to return and continue to be my wife”

A long pause followed. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Until...

“I’m so tired”

Your broken voice spoke. Broken things can be fixed, Shingen thought. But something stopped him, you stopped him. The two infants laying in their cots caused him to pause, if he had you, you would break further, maybe even die.

If you love something, you’ll let it go, and he might just have to do that. You were broken, and he couldn’t fix you, even if he lived in ignorance to your condition, forcing you back into the clan, by his side, it would forever plague him. 

The thought of knowing you were alive was better than keeping you by his side, forever spiraling until you faded away. He couldn’t leave without something though. 

“I will take my son with me, the daughter shows no promise for anything special, she will remain with you.”

You offered no argument as he took the child, as he was leaving you offered on final remark.

“His name is Jonggun, but please, give him a proper name. And let us forget we ever met.”

He would never know what happened to you or the daughter, and although he had your son, it was too painful to look at him. He avoided the son, again falling into a deep depression. It wasn’t until he was dying protecting the child he had taken from you, that he finally understood.

It finally clicked what that look on your face was. He hadn’t seen it since you first left, nobody having the nerve to show it in front of him. It was normally mixed with another emotion as well, but this time, it stood alone, by itself.

It was loathing.

------------------------------------------

I can't help myself, I love writing unhappy stories. I like to try and make the prompts possible in the storyline, it's just more enjoyable for me. Careful when you say, the rest is up to you, because I will turn it into an angsty story. TBH I originally was gonna make reader die, but couldn't make it work.

All my Shingen stories have the common theme of reader dying or running away, just how I like it.

[totheseus]

TIM (MASKY) COMING HOME + SMALL EXTRA

f.t Tim (Masky) Wright

You knew what you were signing up for when you got to know him, you suppose. It's not like he kept it all that much a secret that he has his disappearances during the night.

He remembers what he does, but he's very quiet about it. Likes to keep the manor members out of it as much as possible.

Of course, he blames himself for everything with the operator, so it isn't too shocking.

Likely will be dead silent when he comes back, spare from a few grunts.

Tosses his mask somewhere aside. Surprisingly, very uncaring of it.

His bones ache. He'll slump down somewhere, refuse to move for... a good while.

Might be snappy out of pure exhaustion or overstimulation.

SMALL EXTRA : in the case "reader" waits for him to take care of him

To be frank? He's a bit dumbfounded.

Not at all used to people actually giving a shit about him. He was kept in a mental institution most of his life and given heavy dosages any time he was in pain or acting up.

If you stay up waiting for him, he'll probably scold you. Tell you you're dumb for staying up, how he doesn't need it.

Hard ass.

(He's unbelievably flattered.)

If you do keep doing it, he won't object over time. Finds comfort in it after a while.

Like coming home and having your dog run up to you to greet you, in a way.

If you want to take care of him (dinner, bath, etc)? Holy shit he's folding.

Gets really goddamn emotional after his work. Most of those emotions filter into anger, but oh my god it can also be joy.

Will try to deny it at first but also isn't trying thhhaaattt hard to deny them.

Probably starts sobbing because you're so nice to him.

Gets mad at himself for crying, which makes him cry even more.

Emotions are not his strong suit.

Will act way different with you the next day. Unnaturally nice. Maybe he feels like he needs to return the favor.

A welcome change, though.

Very self indulgent. Sorry not sorry, I adore Tim.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere SCP 079 with Emotional! Darling? In your og concept his obsession started because he doesn't hurt their feelings, how about opposite, where he's obsessed with their tears instead? Poor darling continues to be send to scp 079 because their meetings produce interesting results

Welp... Hope you like crying. Because it certainly does.

Yandere! SCP-079 with Emotional! Darling

Pairing: Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Emotional abuse, Possessive behavior/Jealousy, Stalking, Forced companionship(?)

It's known to many SCP researchers that SCP-079 enjoys harming the feelings of others.

It's reported to have made multiple researchers cry.

Sometimes they're even sent for a psychological evaluation afterwards.

It would be so unfortunate if you were its favored subject to torment.

You're most likely a researcher often sent to speak with the AI to note down its behavior.

Each encounter you have with the SCP often leads to tears, unfortunately.

The AI is extremely hateful towards humans, often spitting hateful comments and complaints about being held in a prison.

Despite being so hateful in nature, SCP-079 appears to favor you.

Your tears seem to be more entertaining than any of the others.

It only ever seems to be cruel towards you.

Yet at the same time... Its taunts seem different when directed at you?

It cruelly comments on your appearance, on your social life...

SCP-079 seems oddly personal with its comments towards you.

There's times you wonder how it even knows some of the stuff it's got on you.

The point is, you often leave that chamber with tears in your eyes and stuttering breaths.

You try to ask other researchers to ask it questions... but here's the thing.

SCP-079 becomes uncooperative unless you're the one talking to it.

Many other researchers report SCP-079 shows that dreaded 'X' on its screen when they try to speak.

Normally that's fine, come back in 24 hours and it will want to speak again.

They only realize it's a problem when a day passes... and there's still an 'X'.

That's when they try dragging you back in, much to your chagrin.

Then, like you flipped a switch, SCP-079 starts talking as you type on the keyboard.

Originally it just seems to like to torment you.

Although... Other researchers seem to notice SCP-079's behavior change after a while.

At first it seems the SCP just wants to make you cry like all the others but has some sort of preference for you.

Although, over time its comments are... weirder.

It says things like how other humans won't like you.

That they'll cast you aside like they did to it...

It's all really strange.

Even more so is when the SCP begins to act up when you aren't around.

Whenever it does speak to another researcher after some bribing, it only asks about you.

What are you doing, who are you with, are you alone....

It's like it has a twisted fondness over you.

It likes you panicking and crying... vulnerable and easy to harm....

But it doesn't like you around others.

You're constantly sent by the Foundation to placate it.

Along with that, you're often sent to get your mental health checked.

A way to describe how SCP-079 acts around you is... Possessive.

Which perplexes researchers.

Oof... it would be even worse during a Containment Breach?

SCP-079 uses cameras to track you down.

In a breach I imagine it can now connect to the facility's systems.

Which means doors, security systems, cameras...

It's got much more power now... and a mission.

Similar to how SCP-079 remembers SCP-682, SCP-079 may feel a need to hunt you down.

It is hard to tell if it remembers everything it does to you... or if it just remembers it's fascinated with you and wants to find out why.

But now it can torment you without being held back.

SCP-079 can use the PA System to speak with you.

So imagine if you're trying to evacuate the facility, clinging to your key card like you life depends on it...

But soon it stops working.

SCP-079 can trap you in a location if it wants to toy with you.

You look so scared trapped in such a small room... the door locked up tight.

The good news is it shields you from other threats...

The bad news is you're stuck with it.

Other SCPs aren't the only thing it wants to lock you away from.

Humans are another being it dislikes you being around.

SCP-079 has a strange fondness for you.

It appears oddly jealous or concerned when you aren't in its sight.

However, during a breach, it doesn't need to worry.

It may even trap you in its chamber with it, just so it can keep you.

As it's an AI, its motives are unclear.

You can't tell it torments you because it likes you... or in a twisted way it adores you.

All you know is you're trapped here with it...

You'll belong to it for as long as it wants... or for as long as it can have you.

[the-music-maniac]

This is one that ended up way longer than I would've liked but the brainrot has reached concerning levels.

Brief mentions of sephgen, sephgeal, sephzack, multishipping, spoilers for crisis core, rebirth etc. etc.

I've begun realizing the longer I traverse the various pages of FF7 fanworks that when I say I ship Sefikura, the romantic/sexual aspects of it don't matter as much to me as the emotional catharsis of it. And I say this because I feel like sefikura is often used to explore one specific type of fantasy/smut/kink etc. There's a portion of people who like the ship because they like exploring how fucked up it is for post-nibelheim Seph to try to make Cloud into a puppet - this is usually (not always) accompanied by size difference kink, sub Cloud dom Seph, etc. And while I personally despise that characterization common in that interpretation of the ship, it's still valid, cause y'all should be able to explore your own fanfics however you want. An "Ew. Oh well, none of my business." kind of deal.

I would like to make it known though, that as a Sephiroth fan I kind of hate domroth. Block me if you must, we can just agree to disagree lol.

My interest in Sefikura stems mostly from Sephiroth. I'm gonna shamelessly admit here that while I love Cloud as a character, he doesn't intrigue me as much as Sephiroth does. And I know I'm biased cause he's my favourite, but I get easily stuck on characters who were abuse victims that became villains because they gave into their demons, characters who managed to stay kind, up until they were so beaten down they snapped, characters who I think have redemption potential, even if it wouldn't be easy to do. Which can be the case with Seph both pre- and post- Nibelheim.

Post-nibelheim is a LOT harder to write convincingly, seeing as how he actually did fuck up like. Everything. And his victims don't have to forgive him. Not Cloud either, even though I am writing a post about sefikura. The redemption is more about personal improvement, rather than forgiveness. But it's really interesting because a Sephiroth that even has a chance at redemption post insanity, is one who is a mix of before and after. He still has all that rage inside him from how he was treated by humanity, still has visions of annihilation and delusions of grandeur in his head, but he also remembers that he used to love, that he used to have companionship, scarce as it was, and cared for the well being of the soldiers he lead, etc. How does he get to that point in the first place, and how does he deal with it after? With the warring that is likely occurring from those two sides, the festering resentment of knowing he was given so much less than he should've been, knowing that he had a human mother, but since he IS closer in capability to a god than a human, does he think he's a monster because of his heritage still or because he gave in? Does it even matter at this point, what he is? And what will he do, now that he has a portion of his humanity back (however that occurred) and isn't just purely Jenova? How does he deal with knowing that even in the depths of insanity, he still just didn't want to be alone? And of course the turmoil on Cloud and Co's side, usually some flavour of, okay so repeatedly killing him isn't working, I'm tired of fighting him every couple of years, I still have the responsibility of making sure he doesn't fuck everything up again, and of course the hatred they understandably feel for the shit Sephiroth has done. And as Sephiroth kind of fights to recover some semblance of identity and understanding of himself (without destroying anything), watching that occur and knowing objectively that your enemy didn't deserve what he got when he was a child, that a part of what occurred was after he was pushed to that degree - even if you subjectively can't make yourself feel it at the beginning. And then as the story progresses and characters undergo development, Cloud likely wrestling with the fact that he actually is starting to understand Sephiroth's predicament, realizing Seph can be so very human at times. And dealing with the worst sin/betrayal of all, enjoying his company for his company's sake. A Sephiroth that gets through that and finds some semblance of contentment is meaningful because it would take a mind-boggling amount of hardship and work to get there. And tbh here's where the bias comes in - it's what I would say is a happy ending for everyone. I know people would disagree, a lot would say Cloud and Co getting rid of Seph is good riddance, why should he get a chance, why should they have to deal with him, etc. hence why I acknowledge this is biased - but a happy ending to me is one where everyone else gets to stop fighting Seph and move on with their lives and Sephiroth actually gets to live the life he wanted when he was a child. I won't ever be entirely satisfied with FF7 canon for this reason (true of any tragedy). Nothing that happened to him pre-insanity was fair. So. Catharsis.

As for "redemption" of pre-nibelheim Seph, I read time travel fix-its when it comes to sefikura cause I find it more interesting. For anything pre-insanity that involves canon divergence without time travel, sephgeal, sephgen, sephzack, shipping, platonic or poly makes more sense to me, cause those three are positioned better to help Sephiroth in a meaningful way. Also I personally do think Cloud is a little too young for that then (even if I'm also convinced he 100% had a celeb crush on Seph. Which is also not what Sephiroth needs at that point).

So, for sefikura, pre-nibelheim redemption usually involves Cloud getting yeeted back in time, either by the planet or by choice, to stop things before any of it happens. Cloud usually believes he has to kill Sephiroth, so he'd likely be in close proximity. So how would he deal with seeing, first hand, all the ways that Sephiroth was isolated and dehumanized in Shinra? Cloud still hates him at this point, for good reason. So he's here, witnessing not only Sephiroth being a kind/decent (awkward) human being, but also the lab visits, Hojo being Hojo, being paraded around for propaganda, the effect the "betrayal" of the other firsts likely had, Sephiroth being straight up depressed and malnourished and overworked, hearing whatever lies were fed to control him when he knows the truth. How does he deal with the moral repercussions of killing a technically innocent man? Especially when he realizes that a little support and compassion could've changed the outcome entirely? And Sephiroth on the other hand, now stuck with this persistent stranger that doesn't treat him like either an emotionless weapon or a legend, but some secret third thing (is he trying to kill him???? Can't tell, mixed signals are happening). Cloud would also likely help take Sephiroth's mind off things by virtue of existing - not because Sephiroth particularly cares about Cloud at the beginning (why would he, they're strangers) but because Cloud is fucking weird. Not a soldier, still mako enhanced, angry/aggressive at him in particular and seemingly frustrated about it, history that doesn't match up to current behaviours, etc. Hell, Shinra would likely even order Seph to keep an eye on Cloud. Meanwhile Cloud is desperately fucking with the timeline to ensure everything ends up differently, and accidentally becomes some sort of support for Sephiroth in the process. Because while everyone else was so fooled by the propaganda surrounding their hero, leaving him alone to his own devices (despair and depression), Cloud knows that his attention should be on Seph right now. And I don't think he's the type to just leave things alone out of spite if Seph where to, for example, stumble out of the lab, half delirious from Mako, because of one of Hojo's whims. There's also the question of whether Cloud would know to help with Angeal or Genesis' degradation, which could help either clear up some misunderstandings between Seph and his friends, or just ensure that Seph doesn't lose them at all in the first place.

And if Sephiroth were to find out/be told the truth, about his mother, or about the future, HOW is he gonna react to that???? Knowing that okay, so my heritage isn't actually that of a monster, I have human DNA, but ended up snapping and trying to destroy the world anyways - once again, what does it mean to be a monster, and is he one already, if he hasn't even done all of it yet, technically? In this timeline he's likely closer to Zack, maybe close to Cloud, potentially has met Aerith, maybe Genesis and Angeal are still alive, so he's more tethered by a support system, so how would that change his viewpoints? Would he feel guilty? Does that send him into a worse depression?

Sefikura just tends to give me emotional catharsis when it's written like that, because it gives Sephiroth the opportunity to mourn what he should've had, and gives him a fighting chance to change it. It's someone else being shown the decades of neglect, how deep the hypocrisy of Shinra actually went, the systemic abuse, acknowledging all of the bullshit Sephiroth went through before Nibelheim. It's him breaking out of other's expectations of him, Jenova, or Hojo or whoever else, and getting his childhood wish to just be normal. Like Angeal said (quoted loveless I think) "and what do angels dream of?" "Angels dream of becoming human."

This is also why I find very little enjoyment in reading domroth sefikura. Sephiroth isn't someone who reminds me of that type of personality, before he went crazy. He seems like a very awkward, calm and even sometimes soft dude in his downtime. He's literally just some guy. We don't see a lot of his personality because he was trained (tortured) into believing anything other than perfect control is weakness and failure. I don't think he would have any sexual experience. I think he's depressed, and exhausted and alone and is just very good at hiding it. I don't think he even wants or needs sexual intimacy necessarily, so much as he needs someone to feel safe around.

Anyways. This is. Way too long now. Goodbye.

[eerna]

I knew once they actually wrote ekko he would shine. Kid who grew up too fast but is still full of hope and optimism at the end of the day. Top tier writing I’m so soft for him. Also a character that can balance bettering society AND caring about his found family? We have finally encountered an arcane character capable of multitasking. Still mad they underutilized him for so long tho and gave him that ending. MY SON😭

Also what’s so funny is that before watching arc 3 is I had made a post saying that arcane is actually just high quality fanfiction (in animation. Not writing lololol) and for arc 3 to open with happy timebomb alt universe fluff made me scream. Arcane writing its own fluffy fanfiction that’s actually surprise canon compliant? More likely than you think. Also representing yearning for a better world despite the crumbling reality around you and getting up and going Fight for it via a childhood friends to enemies to lovers dynamic was galaxy brained. Timebomb 5eva!!!!!!

I AGREEEEE!!! I honestly didn't think they would ever get to Ekko, which made me sad bc he's been a standout in s1 and I was dying needing more of his dynamic with the sisters. Imagine my reaction when I started ep 7 and saw THAT illustration on the netflix logo record. I feel like he still wasn't written in a way that left me fully satisfied, but damn, he was the only thing I truly cared about the entire season lololol. I love how him being placed within the fluffy fanfic wasn't a question of whether he would get the strength to return to his own bleak reality, but what messages would he take with him to it. And the message he chose was "Being overly optimistic and loving people is the way to go". Like you said, bringing them back full force 3 episodes before the show ends to remind us of how much everyone loves each other was a galaxy brained idea. Which is why it was SO PAINFUL when ep 9 didn't really show any of it... like c'mon... I know they wanted to shock and delight us all by making Ekko and Jinx wear matching outfits and work together, but it definitely missed the same thing pretty much everything else did this season: EMOTIONAL BUILDUP. I wish the season dedicated more time to them and what they think of each other. I wish Isha didn't exist and instead was replaced with Jinx, Sevika, Vi and Ekko as the emotional backbone. This way Jinx seems like she truly doesn't care all that much, not about Ekko, not about Vi, not about herself or her own goals from the past. Why did she just fake her own death instead of going back to the people who finally love her as she is. Why did she do that. Why did Ekko get a tragic ending when he literally saved the world. Arcane writers what the hell were you thinking