#as mentioned this is the story I really want to develop into a game

[altblock-tm]

OC Fact #27

Waya is the living embodiment of a galaxy!

She's big and she's powerful, even though taking a super tiny mortal form put a lot of restrictions on the magic she can use there. (By her standards she's infinitesimally tiny. Waya is actually just 10 feet tall.)

She's the first major boss that Ora encounters. One that doesn't want to hurt Ora, but one that feels she needs to fight anyway. Once she's defeated, she asks Ora to make a promise for her.

If there are those along Ora's journey that can be spared in a fight, do so. Show mercy. Don't kill them.

That's Ora's first big promise. Breaking it will give you a different ending.

[wingedarchivist]

w4rframe jade pros:

angel frame omggggggggggggg!!!!!!! ANGEL IM AN ANGEL I LOVE PLAYABLE ANGELS

w4rframe jade cons: (j4de sh4dows spoilers under the cut and in tags)

the fucking. pregnant belly. wtf. eugh. *retches* (disclaimer before anyone tries to come at me: I have tokophobia!!!! I lowkey hate the quest and what they made of jade ngl)

[onsomenewsht]

Took a loan on a house I own

About when she panics and you’re very patient, but out of t-shirts

《 shout out to @p0orbaby, who turned this shit around and back on the fun side of the road

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: 3k

》 commitment [noun, law]: a written order of a court directing that someone be confined in prison; mittimus

“Accept the Arsenal deal”, your agent encourages, his client’s best interests – and transfer fee – close to his heart.

“At least it’s not Manchester”, your father comments, still wishing for your comeback as saviour of your hometown club.

“What can go wrong?”, your childhood friends resonate with sincere smiles and rolling eyes at your unjustified hesitation.

Turns out, signing for the Gunners puts you in the Ballon d’Or shortlist after the first season and Leah Williamson in your bedroom.

One night you two are sharing a ride after a shameful celebration, you’re way too drunk to even remember how to walk in a straight line and she finds herself thinking way too much about your carefree giggles – if anyone asks, she just wants to make sure you don’t get kidnapped or fall on your pretty face tripping over nothing.

The following day she’s still in your house, wearing your clothes and sharing questionable stories of failed dates just to hear you laugh.

A week after she’s in your bed again, this time naked and cracking up at the worst jokes you got.

It’s not like you planned such development in the relationship with the skipper or tried to win her over with infallible pickup lines, it just happened.

Not that you’re complaining now.

Another season ends, but you keep finding each other in compromising positions at the worst possible moments, avoiding friends and teammates teasing comments with really not much effort.

Her mother, the wiser when it comes to Leah’s debatable life choices, asks about you all the time and went as far as personally inviting you over for Christmas. You declined, obviously, but made sure the Williamson family received your presents.

Your best friend demanded to have a private conversation with the blonde the first time he visited, probably embarrassing you with made-up memories and pointless threats. She took it all more seriously than needed, teaming up with him at your expense by the end of the night.

“Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow to sleep in?”

A sense of domesticity fills every interaction with the English woman nowadays, feelings you’re way too pleased to indulge but even more scared to address.

Knowing her, like a stray cat enjoying the sun and the offered food, a too-close approach or unexpected movement could provoke a runaway.

You move your eyes from the laptop slowly, taking in her freshly showered body and the wet blonde locks dropping water on the floor. She knows you hate that.

“Top drawer on your left, dry your hair before going to bed”

“What do you have against air drying?”

“What do you have against respecting my silk sheets?”

When she misses the opportunity to quip back, like she always does when your sleeping habits are mentioned, you give up any chance of reviewing the last away game to find Leah cautiously studying the furniture.

“Why are my clothes here?”

“Would you prefer to have them lying around the apartment?”

“It’s a lot of clothes”, she states, digging through all the tops and shorts and even some designer pieces stocked in the drawer.

It’s not really that much, honestly.

“You leave behind a lot of shit”

That makes the younger girl react, recovering from the shock of her things being carefully folded somewhere other than her closet – and occasionally a strategically placed chair in her room.

The cat is bothered.

Closing the laptop, you rise from the bed to slowly approach her. Cautiously.

“I just don’t understand why you put my clothes in your drawer”

“You have a lot of things here and I quite like the idea of a clean place”

“That’s not true! I–”, she fumbles for the right words to explain herself in her own mind.

You guide the blonde to the bed, sitting her down like you’d do to explain to a kid that Santa looked a lot like their overweight uncle because was, indeed, their overweight uncle; or that no, they can’t walk the dog for the last journey to Heaven.

The next words are going to be crucial.

“Leah, you basically live here”

“What?!”

Bad choice, noted.

She literally jumps so high you have to take a moment to appreciate your own cat metaphor for such spot on accuracy.

As the freshly nominated Arsenal’s captain, the goddesses and gods of football bowed to Kim Little, she shouldn’t risk her knees so mindlessly. You have to calm her down before some questionable network buys the rights for a high-budget documentary of how you managed to kill the equivalent of Princess Diana for the football community.

“I’m sorry to be the one that broke it to you, but at this point only you don’t–”

“You’re not making any sense, really, I–”

“Please, walk me through your day”

Easy.

The past two weeks have been dedicated to national duties, training camp and a friendly overseas. Not too bad, you both manage to keep in touch despite the time difference and your own commitments.

The trip back is uneventful, she sleeps for most of the flight and annoys Beth for the rest of it.

You pick her up at the airport.

Just because you’re closer than her mom and offered to.

You drive her to her apartment, but the blonde leaves the suitcase somewhere in the living room to deal with another time and comes back to the car in under three minutes.

Just because you promise to make dinner, she is supposed to refuse?

You two cook together, even if she’s still forbidden to use the air fryer and your wine accessories after the shrimps accident.

But we don’t talk about the shrimps accident.

The food is good, the company is even better. Stories are shared, memories are created with a questionable playlist in the background and laughs front and foremost. Plans are made to go see a film you’ve been waiting a year for and to find a dress she needs for a charity event.

Just because.

She takes a shower after, finally washing away the fatigue with her fancy shampoo you somehow have around in the bathroom. There’s also her favourite lotion, the delicate scent she can now smell with her eyes closed when she misses you a little too much for some reason. Even getting to the point of applying the scar cream she uses when her knee bothers, just because you know–

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit”

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit’, indeed”, the smile on your face grows as you see the realisation crashing over Leah.

The English capitan may be a clueless idiot sometimes, but you’re already too into it to pretend not to like it.

“I basically live here”

The thought of her finally realising she moved in with you is not something you’ve indulged too much. An unconscious but lingering fear is the faithful companion of ruthless nights, lying in bed with Leah and her commitment issues.

Most nights she falls asleep holding on to you, and most mornings she wakes you up with a freshly made coffee. But she runs away and disappears for days after sharing a way too intimate moment.

By now, you know her well enough to know when to push her limits and when to let her be.

Yet, the confused and almost uncomfortable frown creasing her features hurts.

“I have to go”

“Leah–”

Without giving you the possibility to say anything to reason with her – or just protesting, for what it matters –, the footballer is putting on the first t-shirt she finds and fleeing the scene.

It’s one of your favourite tees, but maybe this it’s not the time to point it out.

“I need to go, I–”, she mutters as she tries to simultaneously put the shoes on and open the front door.

“Are you planning to walk back to your place?”

“Maybe?”

“It’s a ten minutes ride by car, you’re not that kind of athlete”

“I’ll call a taxi”

“With the phone you left on the nightstand?”

For the first time, probably ever, you sound exhausted and not amused at all about the situation – she notices it too. It’s not like she’s completely clueless about the loose attitude, the blowing hot and cold.

You look at her, never dropping your gaze as your head shakes and a tired smile doesn’t reach your eyes. You hand her the phone you picked up when she was too concerned with running away from whatever therapist’s comment was echoing in her mind to realise what she was leaving behind.

Literally speaking, obviously.

“Please, wait here for the taxi. It’s dark outside”

“I’m sorry, I–”

“We can talk at training in a couple of days”, you ease her worry with a quick side hug and a kiss on the forehead, closing the bedroom’s door behind you.

~

A couple of days later, you don’t talk at training.

She’s avoiding you.

Well, kind of. Everyone at Arsenal, even the chocolate-coloured dog Win, can tell she’s torn up inside and always on the verge of a mental breakdown or, probably worst, ready to rant an apology speech she rehearsed in front of the mirror a concerning amount of times.

The usually composed skipper is panicking whenever found around you, trying to approach and chickening out despite the mental pep talks.

“Care to tell me why she’s sleeping on my couch?”

Lia insisting on pairing for the drill was a trap, you should have seen it coming.

“She found out she moved in”, you let her know, an amused smile lighting up your features for the first time this week.

It’s easy enough to put aside the bruised ego when the situation is as ridiculous as the one you’re currently in, one can laugh at their own misery.

“Finally?”

“I think she panicked”

“Of course she did, she has commitment issues and an apartment she’s not staying in– not even now!”, she passes the ball back to you, completely missing the point of the exercise you’re supposed to do, “Why is she sulking in my house?”

“Can’t tell you, she’s avoiding me as if I signed for Tottenham”

“Don’t joke about that, she may have a heart attack”

You both burst out in giggles, knowing too well it’d be a real chance. Or Leah could find the motivation to approach you – to kill you, sure, but she’d need to be close enough to do it with her bare hands.

“Be patient with her, she’s trying”, Lia gently says after composing herself.

The curious relationship you are building with the blonde may be questionable and unhealthy for some people, but it’s filled with respect and care. It resonates with genuine laughs and whispered secrets, it cherishes with caring hands and firm holds. It’s love.

The kind of love two people give each other despite the fears and the doubts.

“I know, I’m trying too”

~

After two weeks, the most awkward goal celebration in a London derby history, and an even more embarrassing phone call with Leah’s brother, you definitely have enough.

It’s not too bad, really.

She doesn’t flee the room as soon as you make your entrance anymore, the conversations start quietly but progress in the usual easy and carefree way. Sometimes she leans into you in the middle of a night out, other times your hands find each others without a real reason if not the comforting feeling that such a simple action can provide.

It’s not perfect, but you can tell she’s trying and she has a lot going on in her head already. You just want to be there, that’s all you have ever wanted.

It’s not too bad, there’s a reason for everything.

There’s a reason for your shopping list to still include her favourite bread and that inexplicably expensive shampoo, there’s a reason for the warm coffee with your name scribbled on it in the changing room every morning.

There’s a reason for saving a spot next to the other during tactical and video sessions, on the bus for the away game, or on the table at your go-to restaurant.

There’s a reason for the smiles secretly shared in the middle of a stupid debate going on between your teammates.

There’s a reason for you to sleep with the jersey she gave you the first time you played against each other and for her to still be squatting on Lia’s couch wearing your tee – the Swiss woman makes sure to send pictures and updates every night.

It’s not too bad, but it’s game night at the Williamson, and you’re not going to put your victory streak at risk because Leah is freaking out about her housing situation and ghosting her therapist too.

“Are you planning to hide here all night?”, you ask after tapping at her car’s window.

She looks surprised, even if she’s the one parked in front of her mother’s house for the past ten minutes – lights turning off as soon as she spotted you on the side of the road.

The window rolls down comically slow, and the blonde relaxes immediately when she gathers enough courage to look up at you just to find your amused smile. Hands still grasping around the steering wheel, turning white as her cheeks get redder every second.

She’s aware she’s been ridiculous.

“I didn’t know if you’d have come tonight”, she admits.

“I can leave, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own–”

“No!”, she shouts immediately, “I mean, you’re already here. I want you here, I–”

“Good, I really want to defend my champion’s title and I can’t do it if my charades partner is playing hide and seek by herself”, you say, taking a step back to invite her to exit the car.

The teasing smile, that faded just for a moment, is back on your face and she couldn’t be happier to realise nothing really changed – you still look at her with unconditional affection and care, you still look after her heart in the most gentle way you possibly can.

“Hurry up, Williamson, I’ve been talking with your mother more than I’ve been with you lately so I kinda own her to lose a game or two”

She sighs and finally opens the door, getting out of the car with all the enthusiasm of a kid heading to the dentist without the promise of ice cream afterwards. And there is the t-shirt you’ve been looking for.

How many of your clothes did she manage to steal without you realising?

That’s why there’s so much of hers in the damn drawer.

“I wasn’t avoiding you”, she mumbles, more to her feet than to you as she drags them even slower.

It’s going to be the longest ten metres ever.

“Right, and Mariona isn’t asking me how to befriend the stray cat wandering in her apartment”

“I’m sorry, alright? I freaked out. The whole ‘basically living together’ thing just–”, she stops in the middle of the road, waving her hands around as if trying to catch the right words out of thin air, “It just hit me, I haven’t seen it coming”

You gently but firmly pull her safely to the other side of the road before answering, “I figured when Lia cornered me in the middle of training”

“I knew she’d tell you”, the footballer groans, rubbing her face, “She said you’d understand, but I was too scared to talk to you and–”

“I do understand, Leah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make you suffer for abandoning me and tricking Lia and Mario into adopting you”

She laughs at that, the sound loosening the tension in her shoulders and deep into your stomach. You may be more at peace with your love for the blonde, more confident in this relationship, but you have doubts too.

It breaks her heart to make you insecure, you who always go above and beyond to make sure she’s comfortable when it comes to the feelings and the moments you’re sharing – the future you’re building.

“Can we go slow? Like, really slow?”, she looks at you, her eyes softer and the panic fading to be replaced by a new sense of certainty.

“I think we can’t go any slower even if we tried, took you half an hour to exit the car and for us to make literally ten steps toward your mom’s house”

The punch that hits you is strong enough to make you wince.

“Fine, I think we can compromise”

“Your terms?”

“I get visitation rights to my own apartment and free access to your closet”, she proposes, holding out her hand.

“You already have those”, you raise an eyebrow at her cocky smile, “You have to promise not to air-dry your hair on my silk sheets ever again”

“Deal”, Leah smiles as you shake hands, “I’ll just have to get my own pillows for my side of the bed so you can stop complaining”

She laughs oh-so-carefreely at your stunned expression, finally stepping closer and leaning into your embrace, still holding on to you as she approaches the front door.

“I’ll text Lia I’m going home with you tonight”

“Good”, you say, kissing the top of her head, “But let’s be real, you just need an excuse to steal more of my clothes, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but it looks better on me”

She’s saved by her own mother, opening the door and happily taking in the lovely scene with a knowing grin. The older woman pushes you both inside, commenting about the delay and claiming it is a tactic not allowed – all the games are going to be played, doesn’t matter how late it turns.

“You better let me win if you don’t want to be the one sleeping on a couch tonight”, she whispers in your ear as you take the seat by her side.

“Don’t push your luck, Williamson. We’ve got a long way to go, and you still have to find out about the pair of keys with your name on it hidden in the drawer”

fine.

[rui-drawsbox]

remembering the most memorable mc's (with canon appearences) from the otomes i played

all of them are phone games btw. and looong rambling about the games after the cut!

Mystic messenger has been in my radar since i was in elementary school but i played it for the first time after the spanish traslation came out (2017 i think?) Seven shaped my type in such a specific way that im not really sure why loved him so much (it was the whole "he loves you in every route" stuff). I like a lot the default mc, most of the fandom did and that was enough to won me over

Rosa is top tier protagonist tbh, Tears of Themis has really good story and characters (as far i played, not a lot but i enjoyed it) The reason i'm not that much of a fan is bc the game is expensive asf and not very free to play friendly. You're either lucky or have a big wallet with the gacha

i miss my wife man(Marius)

Ephemeral has to be one of the best free to play otomes i've played tbh (if my memories aren't tricking me, it's been years) Good artwork, good storyline, good characters and as far i remember you can unlock one chapter of the character route per day (mabye two days, idk) and the mc's background has an important role in every route (she's a zombie! she's pretty now but eventually will fall apart, aaaaand her story gets expanded in one of the routes!) ((shes also adorable)) There's also a sequel, if you wanted more of the boys! never finished it but i'd recommend it

Honorable mentions! Huellitas Mágicas is a great game! has a really good cast with well fleshed arcs for all the characters, even the scondary ones! The game shines more for the development of *all* the characters rather than just the protagonist/ml. The main theme is overcoming insecurities! Each love interest has a different way of helping our (very insecure) protagonist and helping different characters with their own struggles :DD

10/10 i recommend this game if you want something cute and can be finished in a few hours, if i remember right. It also has a sequel! with like- 12 new love interests, also never finished it bc i didnt found a guide that worked for me but ñek

A3! is my canon event as a gacha player. Discovered the english/global server, tried it and got bored, left it for a few months, tried it again and fell in love, noticed the game was going to shut down bc low sales -HAHA :(-. This is not a otome btw, this is here bc Izumi has to be one of my favorite protagonists in gacha games ever

last but not least! Obey me! Shall we date? oh dear, what have they done to you :(. The original had intense powercreep to force you to pull cards -multiple times bc that makes them stronger- and even now, the company showed a lot of favoritism to some characters, leaving others to dust bc they don't make the same money. Not to say, they released a new game with the same cast and new main story (ignoring all what happend before). And let me say: THEY LITERALLY WANTED TO KILL THE ORIGINAL GAME.

Nightbringer might be a decent game but i don't trust the devs anymore, i still remember what happend with Asmo's birthday right after the release, and honestly i don't want to sit there watching how they disrespect my favorite characters again and again and again. Loved the characters hated the devs. 5/10 you can play it if you want but i don't recommend spending money on it, it's not worth it, just search #obey me here in tumblr and enjoy the amazing fanworks that i can assure you have a lot more love than the game itself

i miss my wife man (mammon and levi)

[beaulesbian]

One Piece Live action season 1 + hints or similarities to future One Piece moments (specifically after East Blue saga) - part 1: episodes 1-3

This wasn't meant to be a comparison between the live action and the animanga, but more so seeing these added/modified scenes that differ from the manga, yet with some of the acting/writing includes clues and hints to different and future canon material, or even characterization that necessary doesn't fit East Blue yet, but fits well enough into later arcs.

Luffy not knowing his world directions both in Opla (ep 1) /// Skypiea arc, in anime ep 168. But it could be for honestly any other arc (Funny thing is, in Opla he rang the bell that unfortunately alerted Alvida's crew, and only when I was rewatching that scene it made me connect it with the great Luffy moment at the end of Skypiea.)

The matches that Zoro has on the Island of Sixis in Opla ep 1, possibly manufactured on Baldimore (?), with a name Beast of Baldimore. /// After Sabaody Archipelago Franky was sent to Baldimore by Kuma, finding Vegapunk's homeland and laboratory, and also developing more of his science projects, as well as causing funny incidents, such as the Burning Beast. (It has probably nothing to do with the matches, except for the 'tiger on fire' motif and the name of Baldimore, but the details of Opla are just so fun!)

Zoro's first meeting with Luffy in Opla episode 1 is really different but fun nonetheless, especially with wording of the line that he doesn't want to 'play pirates' with Luffy. It's such a great setup line for his development to truly be one of the very first to understand how much Luffy means everything he's doing /// Zoro in ep. 323 Post Enies Lobby arc, making sure both his crew and the audience know how seriously he takes being part of Luffy's crew and what it means for future arcs.

Opla ep 2, Luffy mentioning Shanks' way of thinking about fighting (or not fighting someone who's not worth it) /// ep. 146 Jaya arc, Luffy saying to Zoro not to fight Bellamy's crew, which was direct influence from Shanks not fighting the Mountain bandits in the first chapters of the manga. It's interesting that for both of these scenes both Zoro and Nami are there to hear this.

This is just a fun bit, but seeing Nami excited about having a bath was cute. Opla ep 3 /// anime ep. 326, just after they get Sunny and everyone was finding out what space there is for them.

Garp and Koby playing the game of Go, Opla ep 3 /// CP0 agents playing Go while discussing the outcome of Strawhats & Oden's crew's raid on Onigashima against Kaido. It seems like a game that maybe Marines play more/enjoy (?) & above, up to CP ranks.

Usopp 'retelling' a story about eating a dragon, Opla ep 3 /// Punk Hazard ep 580, Zoro killing the dragon and planning with Luffy what's the best way to cook and eat it. Lol. In next chapters Luffy was carrying a big chunk of it, seemingly ate a bit part of the dragon already.

This one is self explanatory. Zoro is so gone for Luffy in Opla it's insane. Every time I remember that I get emo. ep 3. /// One of the first really fond smiles that Zoro keeps smiling at Luffy, a mixture of proud and understanding how Luffy works. ep 63, but it's just so much better in the manga, just look at it. Smitten™ (ch. 104)

[hezuart]

LITTLE NIGHTMARES 3

aaaaaaAAAAAA

DANG OKAy

So I had a premonition for Little Nightmares 3. Last night I had a dream that Mono was just growing old in a tower he chose to stay in as a hermit and just retired there. The runaway kid's real name was revealed to be "Gilbert" and he summoned UFOs that performed a wicked cool airshow over the sea, but then the USA government shot them down and captured them for experimentation. The government was also after a bunch of super powered teenagers and children. They all swam away and tried to escape. Six was amongst them. One of the teenagers took a liking to Six and used her powers to change Six's (super long???) hair a bright red. It was then revealed the government figurehead in charge of the capture raid was Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. I should also mention every single person including the kids in my dream looked like they were from the Lorax movie. Like imagine Little Nightmares but all Onceler style. I woke up to several dozen messages of Little Nightmares 3 trailer and well... I'm very relieved it's nothing like my dream.

~~~

Anyway! I had very low, negative expectations for LN3. I didn't think it would ever come out, and if it did, it wouldn't be the same. I am SO glad to be wrong. This developer apparently also worked on Little Nightmares 2, so they had a feel for the story, concepts, atmosphere, and gameplay. Little Nightmares 3 trailer doesn't give us a ton to work with, but I see high inspiration from previously unused concepts. Like the crows and mirrors in the Little Nightmares comics, and the giant baby from Little Nightmares 2 concept art.

The crow boy looks as though he can go through mirrors and technically fly with a black-feathered umbrella he uses to float. The girl has a wrench, and at first, I thought she was wearing an ugly gas mask, but it's apparently an old-fashioned pilot hat. So I touched it up in my drawing to make it look more recognizable... and cute. Already their designs are very intriguing. Can't tell what the full story is about, but they're new characters in a new setting, I'm very excited to see the world get expanded!

It's still a somewhat different style and atmosphere to the previous two games, but this developer really seemed like they paid attention and made it as authentic as they possibly could, and for that I am so grateful, I respect them so much. I am now changed! I've got a hopeful and optimistic mindset for the future of this series.

ESPECIALLY AFTER LEARNING IT'S ACTUALLY GONNA BE CO-OP. HELLO?!

WHO WANTS TO DROP ME OFF A CLIFF?? LETS DO IT

[thisisutl]

The real dog that inspired Ghost Trick's "Missile".

As many people on Tumblr have already pointed out, Ghost Trick is a game that is best experienced going in fully-blind. It offers amazing puzzle-based gameplay, a charming cast of characters and a unique story with plenty of twists and turns that will leave you both stunned and fulfilled by the end. My one true regret with the game is that I can't experience it for the first time again.

So, in trying to hype up the game for its release on Steam, Switch, Playstation and XBox, I decided to go for a novel approach: Instead of gushing about the game and potentially spoiling it for you, I will instead offer some facts about the real-life dog that inspired one of the game's most memorable characters. Knowing those facts won't spoil the game for you and will in fact make you appreciate its story a whole lot more, so feel free to reblog away, adding any facts that I might have missed about the game's Charismatic Cheerful Capable Caring Canine.

You know… This adorable little guy: 

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Missile Takumi!

Missile was a pomeranian Puppy adopted by Shu Takumi on 2007. He was named after a dog appearing in Gyakuten Saiban 1 (aka Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney 1). The dog in the original game was a throwaway gag, not essential in the overall game’s story. The real-life  little pomeranian however proved to be an essential part of Shu Takumi’s life.

(Source)

(More facts after the break)

Missile was Shu Takumi’s best friend. The little doggie was always there for him, always available to lift his spirits with a cheerful bark when he was feeling down and always offering a friendly paw even in the gloomiest of circumstances. Missile was a truly loyal friend, offering unconditional love and friendship, helping Shu Takumi get over even the most difficult of times.

(Source)

So when time came to make Ghost Trick, a game about ghosts, regrets, mystery, loyalty, friendship and ultimate redemption, it was perfectly natural for Shu Takumi to give his best little friend a part in the story.

The game’s developers didn’t initially want to put Missile in the game. They didn’t have a problem with putting a dog as a character, they had a problem with the fact that the dog was a Pomeranian and they would have problems animating his fur in-game. Shu Takumi however insisted and eventually, after meeting the little doggie and falling under its charm, the developers relented into putting him in the game in all his Pomeranian glory.

(Image from lparchive)

Not only did they put him in the game, in fact, they went above and beyond in capturing his charm perfectly. They studied his moves and mannerisms, in order to get his movements down pat.

(Image from lparchive)

Missile’s iconic in-game bark was actually a recording of sound-designer’s Nobuyuki Shimizu Labrador Retriever who was coincidentally also named Missile! Shu Takumi wanted to record his own Missile, but Shimizu-san also wanted to put a part of his own dog in the game and Takumi eventually relented.

So, yeah, Missile in the game was voiced by Missile. Just not THE Missile.

In order to make up for not recording his own dog for the game Shu Takumi made a “character song” for Ghost Trick’s Missile:. 

Yes, those barks you hear in the song are recordings of THE Missile, no substitutes this time! This is how the little Pomeranian used to bark!

The song was made to celebrate Ghost Trick’s 3rd year release anniversary and even though the song talks about Ghost Trick’s Missile, a lot of the behaviors mentioned in the lyrics (such as Missile’s tendency to climb on the sofa and then needing help to get back down) are things that Takumi’s pomeranian friend used to do.

The song was later remade by CAP-JAMS and included in the soundtrack of the 2023 remaster of the game.

And, yes, the original Missile’s barks are still there.

If it’s not perfectly clear, Shu Takumi really wanted to tell everyone how awesome his little dog was. He made the little dog an essential part of Ghost Trick and stealthily  made the world, at least that small part of it that played Ghost Trick, fall in love with him.

Ghost Trick was released under critical acclaim, even receiving a nomination for Gamespot’s Best 2011 Puzzle Game, but the fact that it was released near the end of the DS’s lifespan and a lackluster advertising campaign made it 2011’s “Best Game You’ve Never Played”.

The game, however, slowly gained a cult following and within that following, the story of Missile resonated with everyone and became one of its standout points. He might not have been the player-character but he was definitely the show-stealer.

(To tell any more would be going into spoiler territory, but seriously go buy and play Ghost Trick any way you can. It really deserves a bigger audience).

So beloved was the little dog in fact that when Ace Attorney was eventually adapted into an anime, the animators couldn’t resist putting him into episodes 13 and 30 of the first and second season respectively. In fact, in the anime Missile was indirectly responsible for the “class trial” incident that shaped Naruhodo/Wright’s life.

Before you ask, no, Missile was not voicing himself this time (something about working with animals and children). He was voiced by Tomokazu Seki in the Japanese version and by Kyle Hebert in the English dub. Still a nice tribute to Takumi’s little doggie.

One final Missile fact that I can’t find a proper segway for is that Missile also got along surprisingly well with Wagahai and Sankichii, the cats that later also entered the Takumi household, though, the way Takumi tells this, it was the cats that called the shots more often than not. 

Missile passed away on the 10th of November 2018. The way Shu Takumi puts it, the valiant little doggie waited for him to return from the US, to spend some final time with him before passing on. We don’t know the exact details just that it was sudden and unexpected.

(Source)

Missile is no longer with us, but his memory lives on. He will always be remembered by Shu Takumi as the friend that always was by his side… and always will be with him.

…and he will always be remembered by the gaming community as the little Pomeranian that stole everybody’s hearts and made Ghost Trick a truly memorable experience.

MISSAIRU TONDEKE! 

(Missile’s Launched!)

[thewickedjazzy]

𓇢𓆸𝑰 𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑻𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𓂃 ִֶָ𐀔

➵𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: beast dazai x f! reader x beast chuuya

➵𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: beastzai is intensely toxic and manipulative towards you, treating you as his puppet. despite his twisted behaviour and control, you unexpectedly start developing feelings for chuuya.

➵𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : sfw, 11.3k of pure angst, hurt/no comfort? slight fluff, abuse, toxic relationship, dark themes, unaware relationship, falling out of love, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, emotional distress, intense themes, dark romance, psychological trauma, death mentioned, guns, mafia themes..*lord have mercy*

➵𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: hi hi! I spent a whole month working on this fic, and it was really tough trying to come up with fresh ideas that didn’t feel like my other stories. But I decided to try something different this time—totally unexpected! Just a heads-up, it's super emotional, so you might want to have some tissues nearby because it even made me tear up, I swear!

The ink had barely dried when you realized you had sold your soul.

You felt your pulse in your throat, even muffling your ears as the contract lay between you, the elegant script of your name stark against the cold, white paper. It was supposed to be a testament to your love, an act of devotion that was meant to bind you both in a bond unbreakable until death parted you. You had signed it with trembling hands, convinced that this was the key to a future you had always dreamed of—a future by his side, where you would be cherished, protected, and loved.

But love was never part of the deal.

The first few months felt like a dream. His touch was warm, his words like honey that poured into the empty spaces of your heart, filling them with sweet illusions. He had promised you the world, and you had believed him. You had wanted so desperately to believe that this contract was a symbol of your bond, that it meant he saw you as an equal, a partner.

But as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months, the honey began to taste bitter.

His warmth turned cold, his touch became a chain, and the promises—oh, the promises—revealed themselves as lies dressed in silver and silk. You were no partner, no equal. You were a possession, a carefully crafted doll that danced to the tune of his commands, your strings pulled tighter with each passing day.

And now, with you on your knees in the dim lit room, the truth finally sank in. The contract wasn’t a bond of love; it was a cage, a cruel joke that only he was in on. You had signed away your freedom, your life, to a cunning man who had never intended to let you go.

The ink had barely dried, but your heart had already started to bleed.

In the lavish confines of Dazai’s private quarters, shadows stretched long and sinister across the opulent velvet drapes and intricate furnishings. The room, a testament to decadence with its flowing silks and priceless relics, exuded an atmosphere of icy desolation and stifling tension, where every corner seemed to whisper of unspoken dominance, a reminder of the dark authority that presided over this space.

His hand gripped your hair with a cruel twist, yanking your head back forcing you to look at him. His eyes, piercing and cold, drilled into yours with an expression of bitter disappointment. The smirk that curved his lips was devoid of warmth, a chilling mask of control and disdain.

You knelt before him, every muscle in your body straining to maintain a rigid posture despite the tremors that coursed through you. The hem of your burgundy silk robe had slipped off your shoulder with each harsh jolt of his grip, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. His fingers, entwined cruelly in your hair, wrenched your head back further, forcing you to lock eyes with his merciless gaze.

“Do you think this is some sort of game, darling?” He hissed, moving his face closer to yours. “Did you actually believe you could act against my orders and escape unscathed?”

"Every time you go against my commands, you only prove how little you understand your place." He tugged at your hair, a harsh reminder of his control, his eyes never leaving yours. "I could have shown you mercy, but you seem to believe that you’re entitled to something more than the role I’ve given you. You’re nothing more than a toy to me, and toys that malfunction need to be fixed."

The chill in his voice was palpable, made your mouth go dry. "If you dare to disobey me again, I won’t just deal with you harshly. I’ll make sure you remember your place with every fiber of your being. This is your last warning. Test me again, and I’ll enjoy watching you break."

He released his grip on your hair, the finality in his gesture echoing through the room. His gaze lingered, a final reminder of the cruel power he wielded over you, as he turned away, leaving you alone with the sting of his words and the weight of your broken dreams.

You took a ragged breath swallowing heavily and trying your best to hold back your tears. You replayed the scene in your mind. Dazai had called a critical meeting, standing in the middle of the meeting room as he outlined the plan to dismantle the rising organization that threatened their dominance in elaborate detail. You, seated at the long mahogany table, had grown increasingly restless, the grandiose vision he painted beginning to grate on your nerves.

As Dazai spoke, your patience wore thin. The more he elaborated on the intricacies of his plan, the more it seemed like a house of cards built on shaky ground. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a scoff, a sound that cut through the room's uneasy silence.

“Seriously, Dazai?” you had said with a tone dripping with derision. “You really think this convoluted plan is the best way to handle this? It sounds like you’re trying to win a chess game against an opponent who’s only playing checkers.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. The members, who had been intently listening, now turned their eyes to you, their expressions a mix of shock and disapproval. Dazai’s gaze, which had been focused on the plan, snapped towards you with a chilling intensity. His eyes, normally so unreadable, burned with a cold fury and with the bandage that covered his left eye made his eyes more unreasonable. Chuuya, seated across from you, cast a sharp, warning glare in your direction. His expression was a silent but unmistakable message: you had overstepped, and you were about to pay the price.

His lips curved into a predatory smile, though it was devoid of warmth. “Is that so?” His voice was eerily calm, but there was a dangerous edge beneath the surface and you knew it, you knew whats about to come. “And pray tell, what do you suggest we do instead? I’m all ears.”

The meeting continued and you couldn't voice any thoughts, but you could feel the change in the atmosphere, a very noticable shift as if the walls themselves were closing in around you. Every word from him seemed to carry a weight of barely concealed menace, like he was waiting patiently for you to overstep the boundaries once again. The laughter and whispers that had once followed his speeches had turned into a deafening silence, punctuated only by the occasional click of a pen or the shuffling of papers.

As the meeting drew to a close and the room buzzed with the murmurs of dismissal, you rose from your seat, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere without getting noticed. But just as you were about to leave, his voice cut through the noise with an icy edge.

“Not so fast,” he clicked his tongue. “Go to my quarters,” The command in his voice made you freeze, “Wait for me there.” Your hand gripping the back of the chair as you turned slowly to face him.

Chuuya, who had been observing the exchange with a deepening frown, cast a final, concerned glance at the unfolding scene. His brows knitted in worry. Despite his desire to act, the circumstances of the situation and his own status kept him paralyzed.

You nodded silently and turned to leave, each step felt like a descent into a personal hell. The cold, opulent halls of the mafia headquarters seemed to stretch endlessly, each corner echoing with the oppressive weight of what was to come.

And there you are, in his private quarters, the aftermath of that meeting lingered like a dark cloud. You were acutely aware of the weight of the contract you had signed, its promise of a future that now seemed like a cruel joke.

You had thought that by challenging his plan, you were asserting your own intelligence and capabilities. Instead, you had laid bare the depth of your disillusionment, sparking a fury that only served to reinforce his dominance.

You rose from the floor, your hands trembling as you rubbed at your neck, the marks left by Dazai’s grip still stinging and visible in the mirror's harsh light. Each trace of his touch seemed to burn with a reminder of your entrapment, and the sight made you nauseous. The reflection staring back at you was a cruel parody of the confidence you had once worn so easily.

An hour had passed in a blur of anguish, your mascara-streaked face a testament to the emotional storm that had ravaged you. You had cried until your tears ran dry, your sobs echoing off the cold, opulent walls of his quarters. Now, with your back against the tall windows, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across the room, you waited in tense silence.

You were trapped, not just within these walls, but within the labyrinth of your own emotions. Love and hate twisted together in a grotesque dance, each feeding off the other, until you could no longer distinguish where one ended and the other began. Dazai was your captor and your saviour, your tormentor and your solace. You hated him with every fiber of your being, yet you couldn’t imagine life without him. The cruel paradox of your existence, a twisted love that both sustained and destroyed you.

The soft click of the door opening jolted you from your thoughts. Dazai entered the room with a quiet grace, his presence filling the space with an oppressive authority. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew he held all the power, who knew you were his and his alone. As he settled into a nearby chair, his gaze fell upon you, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

"Have you had time to think about your little outburst?" His voice was calm, too calm, the kind of calm that preceded a storm. His eyes were fixed on you as if waiting for your reckless response.

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat tightening. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it. "I just wanted to provide my input, to help…"

A scoff escaped him, and though his expression remained unreadable, the shadow of a smirk remained the same on his lips. "Embarrass me? In front of my subordinates? Do you think that’s something I take lightly?"

You flinched, his words sinking deep into your chest. "I didn’t mean to—"

Dazai sighed, the sound heavy with a weariness that wasn’t lost on you. His hand lifted, a silent command for you to come closer.

Your heart kept pounding in your chest as you slowly pushed yourself away from the window, your legs trembling with each step. You fell to your knees before him, the cold floor biting into your skin as you looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. His gaze was surprisingly gentle now, his eyes softening as they met yours. He reached out, cupping your cheeks in his hands. The warmth of his touch was unlike the earlier brutality. How could he be so cruel yet so gentle at times? You'd never know.

“Look at you, darlin’,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against the traces of mascara that had smudged your face, “you look much better when you’re obedient, hmm?”

His eyes drifted to the marks on your neck, and a sigh of regret escaped him. Did he even feel remorse? "I’m sorry," he whispered, though the apology felt like a mere formality, a concession to the damage he had inflicted. “I didn’t mean for it to get so rough,” 

Before you could fully process his change in demeanor, he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. You found yourself cradled in his arms, the sudden shift from cold distance to warmth disorienting always confused you. With a gentle yet firm grip, he carried you toward the bathroom, the opulence of the room giving way to the sterile, clean environment.

In the bathroom, he set you down by the sink and you stood there, staring at your reflection in the mirror, the sight of your broken self almost too much to bear. You were never like this—never so vulnerable, never this fragile.

His eyes met yours in the mirror, his expression unreadable as he gently grabbed a damp washcloth and wiped the smudged mascara from your face. The tenderness in his touch was a jarring hypocrisy compared to the cold cruelty he had shown you earlier, and it made your heart ache with a confusion you couldn’t untangle. meticulous, as he tended to your appearance.

“Darlin’,” he said, his tone lighter, "I expect a lot from you. I always have. But I also need you to remember you're not just a toy. I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You mean a lot to me, even if I don't always show it the way you need."

You loved him. God, how you loved him. Despite everything, despite the pain and the humiliation, you were obsessed with him. He was your world, the center of your universe, the one person who could make or break you with a single glance. But that love was a double-edged sword, cutting you deeper with each passing day. The same hands that caressed you with such care were the ones that left bruises on your skin. The same voice that whispered sweet nothings in your ear was the one that tore you apart with venomous words.

"I hate you," you thought bitterly, even as your heart cried out for him. "I hate you for what you’ve done to me, for making me love you like this."

But the truth was, you hated yourself more. For being so weak, for letting him break you, for still wanting him even when every part of you screamed to run away. You were trapped, bound to him by invisible chains, a prisoner of your own twisted desires.

He finished cleaning your face, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment before he set the washcloth aside. He turned you to face him, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked down at you with an expression that was almost...tender.

"Don’t make me hurt you again, my love," he said softly. Was it a threat or a plea? Again, you could never tell. "I don’t want to break you... but I will if I have to."

You nodded numbly, the words sticking in your throat as you tried to find your voice. "I won’t," you whispered finally, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. You didn’t know if you could keep that promise, didn’t know if you could resist the urge to push back, to fight against the suffocating control he had over you.

But for now, you would pretend. You would play the part of the obedient porcelain doll, the perfect little puppet that danced to his tune. Because despite everything, you still craved his approval, still wanted his love, even if it was nothing more than a cruel illusion.

And that was the worst part of all.

He took a step back, his eyes scanning your now-clean face, as if searching for something. Perhaps he was looking for the woman he had first fallen for, the one who had signed away her soul in the name of love. Or perhaps he was looking for a sign that you were still his, still willing to endure whatever torment he decided to inflict, just for the chance to be by his side.

“I know you hate me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And yet, you can’t help but love me too, can you?”

You didn’t respond because there was nothing to say. He knew the truth as well as you did. The love was there, intertwined with the hate, a poisonous cocktail that you drank willingly every day.

His hand reached out, his fingers tracing your cheekbones before settling on the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “You’ll always be mine,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “No matter how much you hate it, no matter how much you love it. You belong to me.”

And you did. You hated him for it, but you loved him even more for it. It was a twisted, toxic love, one that had consumed you whole. But it was the only love you knew, and so you clung to it, even as it tore you apart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “I’m so sorry.”

His lips curved into a smile, one that was equal parts gentle and cruel. “Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s put this behind us, shall we?”

You were his, for better or worse, until the end. And you would endure, because that’s all you could do.

But deep down, you knew—one day, the weight of that contract, of your love, would crush you completely.

And when that day came, you wondered if Dazai would even notice.

Dazai’s arm was draped over your waist, his warmth enveloping you in the stillness of the night. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in your own body, a restlessness that wouldn’t let you surrender to sleep. You stared at the ceiling, your mind restless, unable to quiet the thoughts swirling in your head.

The memories of the day replayed themselves, his harsh words and the sting of his hand still fresh. Yet, for all the pain, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more—something you had long since buried under layers of survival.

Carefully, you began to slip out from under his arm, moving slowly to avoid waking him. You had become an expert at this over time—perfecting the art of leaving unnoticed. You dressed quickly in a plain outfit, something that would allow you to move quietly through the mansion.

Just as your hand touched the door, Dazai stirred, his hand reaching out to the empty space where you had been. His fingers brushed the sheets, searching for your warmth.

“Darlin’...where are you going?” His voice was soft, laced with sleep but edged with that familiar sharpness. Even half-awake, Dazai’s awareness was something to be reckoned with.

You turned back to him, keeping your voice calm and steady. “I can’t sleep, Osamu.” you murmured, brushing a hand through your hair. “I’m going to the studio. Just need to clear my head and paint for a bit.”

He blinked at you, still half-asleep, and nodded slowly. “Alright darlin’,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he sank back into the pillows. “Don’t stay up too late.”

You offered a faint smile that he wouldn’t see in the darkness, even though doubt lingered in your heart. He trusted you, not because he was careless, but because this was routine—something you’d done many times before. Painting in the middle of the night was your escape, the one place where he let you be without question. Maybe because he knew you needed it. Or maybe because he thought there was nothing to worry about.

You watched him for a moment longer, ensuring his eyes were closed again before you quietly slipped out of the room. The door closed with a soft click, and you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The penthouse was silent as you made your way through it, the city lights filtering through the large windows. Your art studio wasn’t far—just a few blocks away from Dazai’s penthouse, nestled in a quieter part of the city where you could find peace.

The streets were quiet at this hour, the city’s usual bustle replaced by a serene stillness. You breathed in the cool night air as you walked, the distance from the penthouse helping to clear your mind. The studio had become your sanctuary, a place where you could escape from everything, even if just for a little while.

When you arrived, the studio was just as you’d left it, an oasis of creativity nestled in the heart of the city. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, the scent of paint and canvas greeting you like an old friend. It was a small space, cozy and cluttered with half-finished projects, but it was yours. Here, you could breathe—here, you could forget.

You turned on a single lamp, the soft light illuminating the canvas that awaited you. It was an abstract piece full of dark swirls and sharp lines, a reflection of the turmoil inside you. The brush felt natural in your hand as you began to paint, your strokes quick and deliberate, losing yourself in the rhythm.

Yet, despite the comfort of the studio, a weight lingered in your chest—a heaviness that had nothing to do with the late hour or the paint fumes. It was Dazai.

Your thoughts kept drifting, your concentration wavering as you replayed the events of the past months. Dazai had always been a mystery—a man who treated you like a prized possession, something to be admired, controlled, but never truly acted like he loved you. He had his moments, of course—moments of gentleness, fleeting glimpses of a man who could care, who could be kind. But those moments were always followed by something darker—a harsh word with a bruising grip.

You weren’t sure if what you had with him was even a relationship. The lines between affection and possession had blurred long ago.

And yet, despite everything, you had stayed. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. But now, with each passing day, with each secret meeting at the studio, you felt your resolve wavering. There was someone else who occupied your thoughts more and more—someone who had never hurt you, who had only ever offered you kindness, warmth.

Your hand faltered on the canvas as your thoughts drifted to Chuuya. Over the past six months, your late-night meetings had become the one thing you looked forward to, the one thing that felt real. Chuuya was different—gentle in ways Dazai could never be, caring in a way that wasn’t calculated or fleeting. He never asked questions about the dark bags under yours that you tried your absolute best to hide with your concealer, never pressed you for answers. He was simply there, offering a quiet comfort that had slowly begun to fill the cracks in your heart.

You dipped your brush in a deep crimson, the colour bleeding onto the canvas in a sharp, harsh shade. It was the shade of blood—Dazai's hands, his clothes, stained night after night. But with a gentle shift, you softened the stroke, blending the red into the backdrop until it faded, becoming something warmer—something closer to the warmth you found with Chuuya.

But as you worked, you became aware of another presence in the room. It was subtle at first—the faint echo of footsteps, a soft rustling that barely disturbed the silence. You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you turned towards the secret passage that led to the back of the studio.

And then he was there, stepping out from the shadows like a memory made flesh. The mafia executive who had effortlessly stolen your heart.

His ginger locks caught the dim light, and he offered you a small, knowing smile. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“I couldn't, It’s not finished yet,” you murmured, though even you could see how close it was to completion. The image on the canvas was abstract but familiar—an echo of your life, your feelings, laid bare in strokes of colour and shadow.

Chuuya crossed the room in a few quick strides, his hands finding your shoulders, gloved fingers gently massaged your tense muscles as he looked you over, his gaze lingering on the faint bruise peeking out from under your sleeve...he didn’t say anything—he never did—but the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes darkened, told you enough.

You knew he noticed, with a soft sigh you reached up, placing your hand over his. “It’s fine,” you lied, though you both knew the truth.

He shook his head slightly, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing a path that was both tender and protective. “You shouldn’t have to say that,” he murmured, his voice carried a sadness he rarely allowed himself to show.

There was so much more you wanted to say in that moment—words that lingered on the tip of your tongue, feelings that you had tried so hard to bury. But instead, you simply leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his presence, in the safety he offered without ever needing to say it.

The two of you drank some wine as the night deepened, a bottle that Chuuya had brought with him, a quiet indulgence in a world that offered so few. You picked up your brush again, continuing the painting you had started, the colors flowing more freely now, less restrained.

Chuuya watched you as he always did, with a quiet admiration that never failed to make your heart flutter. How could someone like him exist in this world? So gentle, so pure, so loving? You never told him how you felt. There was no need to. Chuuya was perceptive, far more than he let on. He knew. And as much as he cared for you—more than he probably should have—he never acted on it. He knew the consequences, knew that you were Dazai’s. And yet, here you were, night after night, finding solace in his presence.

But tonight, the wine loosened your inhibitions, the brushstrokes on the canvas becoming bolder, more expressive. You could feel Chuuya’s eyes on you as you painted, a silent observer to the emotions you were pouring out onto the canvas.

When you finally stepped back, you studied the painting with a critical eye. It was abstract, filled with swirling colours and dark, chaotic strokes. But there, in the centre, was a figure—a man with fiery ginger hair, his back turned, and beside him, a woman, her features obscured but unmistakably you.

Chuuya approached, his eyes tracing the lines of the painting, his breath catching as he realized what you had done. You could see it in the way he tensed, in the way his eyes softened with something that looked like pain.

“Is that…” He didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t need to. The realization was there, hanging in the air between you.

You nodded, offering him a soft smile.“It is,” you replied simply, the words hanging between you like a quiet confession. Instead, he slipped off his glove, revealing the bare skin of his right hand, and gently reached out. His fingers ghosted across your cheek, a delicate touch, hesitant, as if you might vanish beneath his fingertips.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Chuuya’s gaze flickered between you and the painting, his heart fluttering with a confusing mix of emotions. He wanted to say so much to ask why, to tell you how much this meant to him. But the words wouldn’t come.

“I…” he started, but the words trailed off. What could he say? That he was touched beyond measure? That he didn’t know how to handle the feelings you stirred in him?

You placed your hand over his, leaning into his touch. “It’s okay, Chuuya,” you murmured. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Chuuya's hand lingered against your cheek for a bit longer, his touch as soft as the brushstrokes you had just painted. His thumb traced the outline of your face, so delicate, velvety even it almost felt like a whisper, like he was afraid you might shatter under his touch. But you didn’t. With him, you never did.

There was a warmth in Chuuya that didn’t demand, didn’t seize more than you could offer. Instead, his gentleness defied everything you had been taught to expect, everything you had come to accept as inevitable. It was a tenderness that stood in defiance of everything you had known with Dazai. Where Dazai’s hands were icy, sharp with toxic edge of possession, Chuuya’s were a haven—soft, steady, and sure, grounding you even as the shadows of your past threatened to consume you.

His fingers, calloused from years of battle, should’ve been rough, yet the way they caressed your skin was anything but. It was a tenderness that made your breath hitch, your heart fluttering as his presence filled the cracks of your heart. The weight that had clung to your chest moments ago seemed to lift, replaced by something lighter, something that made the air between you feel light as a feather.

"You're always too good to me," you whispered, barely audible, afraid that if you spoke too loudly, the moment would shatter. But he heard you, and you noticed how his gaze started softening even more as his fingers curled slightly against your skin.

"You deserve someone to be good to you," he murmured in return, his raspy voice made your stomach sink "I will forever protect you, won't let anyone take from you what you truly deserve."

"You don’t need to protect me, Chuuya," you sigh softly, “I’m a woman who’s been through too much to need protecting. I can handle myself.”

His gaze sharpened as he shook his head firmly. “No, I will protect you,” he replied, his voice brooking no argument. “Not because you need saving, not because you're a woman, but because you’re ‘my woman,’ and no one—not even Dazai—will take from you what you truly deserve.”

“Your… woman?” You stuttered, the question tumbling out before you could stop it. The idea felt foreign, surreal even.

The dim light from the lamp cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips, and the flame-red strands of hair that framed his features like something out of a dream. You found yourself captivated, as you always were, by how someone so dangerous could be so gentle with you.

And then, his eyes—those deep, stormy blue eyes—locked with yours, a silent question hanging in the air between you. You knew what he wanted to ask, what he had been holding back for months, and you answered before he could even speak. Your hand, still resting over his, gave a small squeeze, your own heart pounding in your chest.

In that moment, the world seemed to fade until there was nothing but him. The ginger leaned in slowly, hesitantly, as if giving you a chance to pull away—but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was as if time stopped. The kiss was soft, tentative, and filled with a sweetness that made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t thought possible. His lips moved against yours like he was afraid of breaking you, but there was a passion simmering just beneath the surface, one that spoke of everything he had kept buried for so long.

With Dazai, kisses had always been possessive, demanding, like he was trying to stake a claim, to remind you that you were his and his alone. There was never any softness in them, only a dark, consuming hunger that left you feeling hollow. But with Chuuya—oh, with Chuuya, it was different. His kiss was tender, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to make you feel wanted, cherished, safe.

You melted into him, your hand slipping up to tangle in his hair, tossing his hat aside and pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you gently but firmly, grounding you in the moment. The world outside ceased to matter, the chaos of your life fading into the background until there was nothing but the quiet intimacy you shared with him.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts. Chuuya’s eyes searched yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you could see the question there again—an unspoken plea, asking if this was real, if it was okay to want this, to want you.

“It’s okay, Chuuya,” you whispered, echoing the words you had said earlier, but this time, there was more behind them. There was a promise. A promise that, with him, you didn’t need to be afraid.

Chuuya's hand slid to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse. “You don’t have to stay with him,” he said quietly, his voice shaking with the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. “You deserve more than what he gives you.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing against the lump in your throat. He was right. You knew it, had known it for a long time. But leaving Dazai wasn’t as simple as walking away. There were consequences—ones that could ripple far beyond just you.

“I know,” you murmured, leaning into him, finding solace in the steady beat of his heart against your chest. “But it’s not that easy.”

Chuuya didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. Instead, he held you close, his arms wrapping around you as if shielding you from the world, from the pain that had become all too familiar.

You gentely pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, the desperation building inside you. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin, but there was something heavier pressing against your chest—something you could no longer ignore.

“We could leave,” you whispered suddenly, your voice barely audible but heavy with the weight of your plea. “We could run away from all of this. Together. Far away. Somewhere Dazai can’t reach us.”

The words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, you saw something flicker in Chuuya’s eyes—hope, maybe, or the brief illusion of escape. But then, just as quickly, the reality of the situation settled over him like a dark cloud. He sighed, his hand sliding down to rest on your arm.

“You know we can’t do that,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “Dazai won’t take it lightly. He’s... not someone we can just leave behind.”

You knew he was right. You knew it the moment the words left your mouth, but still, the thought of staying in the suffocating grip of Dazai’s control was unbearable. You couldn’t live like this anymore—not with the strings he had wrapped around you so tightly that it felt like you were choking. You had been his puppet for too long, forced to dance on command, every move dictated by his whims, every decision manipulated to suit his goals.

“I can’t do it anymore, Chuuya,” you choked out, your voice trembling as the words tumbled from your lips. “I can’t stay with him, a slave to whatever sick game he’s playing. He’s made me do things—things I can’t even live with anymore. I’m not... I’m not myself anymore. I’m just another one of his puppets.”

“I know,” he sighed, eyes frowning. “I know what he’s done to you. And I swear, if I could—” He cut himself off, his hands trembling slightly as he reined in the fury threatening to spill over. “But we can’t just run. Dazai... He’s too smart. He’d know. He’d find us, no matter where we went.”

But of course again you knew Dazai, he was no ordinary man. He was calculated, methodical, and always one step ahead of everyone around him. He weaponized his false incompetence, using it to manipulate people into underestimating him. It was a clever façade, one that hid the dark and twisted brilliance beneath. He knew exactly how to pull the strings, to twist every situation in his favour. Running from him wasn’t just difficult—it was impossible.

“He’d hunt us down,” Chuuya continued, his voice a strained whisper. “No matter where we went, no matter how far we ran, Dazai would find us. And when he does...”

Chuuya didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. You both knew what Dazai was capable of. There were no limits to how far he’d go to maintain control, to remind you that you were his, body and soul.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as the hopelessness of your situation sank in. You bit your lip, trying to steady the storm brewing inside you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Dazai had this much control over your life, that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t break free. But staying wasn’t an option anymore. Not after everything you had been through. Not when you had finally allowed yourself to feel something for someone else—someone who treated you like a person, not a pawn.

“We have to try,” you whispered, your voice pleading. “Even if it’s dangerous, even if he hunts us down, we have to at least try. I can’t keep living like this, Chuuya. I can’t be his toy anymore.”

Chuuya stared at you, his expression softening as he saw the desperation in your eyes. He knew you were serious. He knew how much you had suffered under Dazai’s thumb. And though every instinct in him screamed that running was a death sentence, he also knew that staying would break you in ways even he couldn’t fix.

“Alright,” he said quietly,“We’ll try. But we have to be smart about it. He's not someone you can just escape from without a plan.”

You nodded, relief washing over you as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I’ll plan it,” you said, your mind already racing with possibilities. “We’ll find a way. Somewhere, he won’t think to look. Somewhere safe.”

The night ended peacefully, the two of you spending the remaining hours in quiet companionship. Chuuya left the studio with a lingering look as if he was trying to commit the memory of this moment to heart. You watched him go, your heart heavy yet light all at once, knowing that you would return to the embrace of the man who tore you apart.

When you slipped into bed later that night, Dazai was already there, his presence was unlike the warmth you had felt with Chuuya. He hummed softly as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Did you drink tonight?” he asked slowly with a low and deceptively gentle voice.

“I needed to relax,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even. Dazai’s lips moved to your forehead, where he placed a soft kiss, a gesture so tender it almost made you believe in the facade he presented.

Your mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, urging you to be more cautious. How did you even end up here in the first place? What were you thinking—did you really believe he’d love you? You scoffed bitterly at your past self.

How do you make this vicious cycle end? Convinced yourself to like the bed you shared with him while crying, going numb and lying bare. You did it all for him and more, with all your body getting sore.

How could you be so brutal to yourself?

Finally, after what felt like hours, you drifted off to sleep, knowing that tomorrow the cycle would begin again—Dazai’s cruelty followed by hollow apologies, his grip on you tightening with each passing day But in the quiet of the night, your thoughts drifted to Chuuya, and your heart fluttered with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again. It had been months, yet the excitement you felt was just as strong as the first time.

The next evening, you slipped into a cami top and jeans, your movements careful and deliberate. When you approached the door, you saw Dazai at his desk, yawning and eyeing you with his empty, hollow gaze. The bandage over his left eye only heightened your simmering anxiety, but you forced yourself to remain calm as he asked, “Are you going to the studio to paint? Darlin’,”

You nodded, hoping your nervousness didn’t show. Dazai got up from his desk and walked over to you, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’ll come with you then,” he suggested, his tone light but laced with an undercurrent that made your heart race in fear.

This is bad—so, so bad!

As Dazai moved to slip on his coat, you seized the moment, your fingers moving swiftly over your phone's keyboard. The message to Chuuya was short, urgent: "Mission 006." It was the code you had agreed upon, a signal that he should stay away from the studio tonight.

You hit send just as Dazai turned back to you, "Ready?" he asked. There was an edge to his voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral as you followed him out the door. The walk to the studio was silent, the usual chatter between you two absent. Dazai’s presence was as suffocating as ever, but tonight, there was something more—an intensity that made your skin crawl. You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew if he had somehow pieced together the secret you and Chuuya had been carefully guarding.

When you arrived at the studio, the familiar scent of paint and canvas did little to ease your nerves. You unlocked the door, and the two of you stepped inside. Dazai paused at the threshold, his gaze sweeping over the small space as if he was seeing it for the first time.

"It's cozy," he remarked, though his tone was flat, devoid of any real interest. He wandered further in, his steps slow, as if he was taking stock of every detail.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but the cold sweat forming at the back of your neck. "It’s my little sanctuary," you said, forcing a lightness into your voice that you didn’t feel.

Dazai walked over to the easel where your unfinished painting stood, his head tilting slightly as he studied it. You could feel his gaze on the canvas, lingering on the dark swirls and sharp lines. His silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, until finally, he spoke.

"What were you trying to express here?" He asked, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to decipher your painting.

You hesitated, your mind racing to come up with a safe answer. "Just… emotions," you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor. "I paint what I feel."

Dazai didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached out, his fingers tracing the lines of the painting with an almost careless touch. "It’s dark," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "Like a storm brewing."

You forced yourself to nod, though your throat felt tight. "It’s been a… difficult time," you said, the understatement almost laughable.

Dazai finally turned to face you, his eyes locking onto yours. The intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss. As he pulled back slightly, his gaze remained fixed on you, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "You know," he murmured, "sometimes I wonder what goes on in that pretty little head of yours."

The words were light, almost teasing, but you knew better than to believe that façade. You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your expression neutral. "Nothing special," you lied, offering a small, strained smile.

He held your gaze for a moment longer before he let out a low hum, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced but didn’t feel like pressing the matter further. "Well, let’s see what you can create tonight," he said, stepping back and gesturing towards the canvas with a casual wave.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to pick up the brush with steady hands. As you dipped it into the paint, you could feel his piercing eyes on you, watching your every move with a calculated gaze that made your skin prickle.

The brushstrokes felt heavy, each one a struggle as you tried to focus on anything other than the man standing behind you. But all you could think about was Chuuya, hoping against hope that he had gotten your message in time, that he would stay away, that tonight wouldn’t end in disaster.

Just as you began to settle into a rhythm, the soft buzz of your phone vibrating in your pocket broke your concentration. Your heart leapt into your throat as you hesitated, knowing it could only be Chuuya. Dazai’s eyes flicked towards you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he noticed your sudden tension.

"You should get that," he said, his tone almost too kind.

With shaky hands, you pulled out your phone, the screen lighting up with a message from Chuuya: "Understood. Be safe."

You breathed out a sigh of relief, quickly typing back a short reply before slipping the phone back into your pocket. "Just Chuuya making sure I received the files earlier from today," you lied, hoping to deflect any suspicion.

Dazai didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t entirely fooled. He stepped closer, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "You have such a pretty face," he murmured, his fingers against your cheek lingering a bit too long. "It would be a shame if anything happened to it."

You stiffened at the veiled threat, your heart pounding in your chest as you forced yourself to stay still, to not flinch under his touch. "I’ll be careful," you whispered, though your voice wavered.

Dazai smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Good," he said, his hand dropping back to his side. "Now, continue your magic darlin’."

You turned back to the canvas, struggling to concentrate as your thoughts swirled in disarray. The weight of the evening pressed down on you, with tonight promising its own set of trials.

Just then, Dazai's phone rang, the sharp sound breaking through the quiet. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting to one of urgent concern.

"I'm sorry, darlin’," he said, "I have to go. There's an emergency I need to handle."

He stepped closer, cupping your face gently in his hands. His lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss—tender and bittersweet at first, but slowly growing more possessive, as if he were kissing you for the last time. As he pulled away, he offered a reassuring smile.

"I will wait for you at my penthouse" he promised, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned and walked toward the door. With a final glance back, he slipped out, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the dim light of the studio.

Once Dazai had left, you quickly grabbed your phone from your pocket, and typed a message to Chuuya: "Mission 006 is complete. Head to the HQ now."

You quickly gathered your things, taking one last look around the studio to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything—a gun, your favorite painting, and a few clothes for emergencies. With a deep breath, you slung your backpack over your shoulders, stepped out the door, and made your way to the headquarters.

The streets were eerily quiet as you walked, your mind racing with what you were about to do. When you reached the mafia headquarters, you slipped inside through a side entrance that you had memorized for emergencies like this.

The headquarters was still, the usual hustle and bustle of the mafia's operations eerily absent. You made your way to the main floor, your heart pounding in your chest. you approached the central hub where most of the mafia members were stationed.

With trembling hands, you took a deep breath and activated your ability—the one you had kept hidden for years. Phantom mists, a memory fog that could cloud the minds of everyone around you, except for Dazai. It wasn’t going to be effective against him, but against the mafia? It would create the perfect chaos. The pendant around your neck warmed as you focused, pouring your energy into the ability.

A swirling mist began to spread from your fingertips, a soft fog that permeated the air. You could feel the tendrils of your ability seeping into the minds of everyone in the vicinity. The effect was immediate—confusion and disorientation began to take hold.

Voices started to rise in panic, shouts echoing through the hallways. "What’s happening? I can’t remember..." one mafioso cried out.

You could imagine it clearly—the mafia’s best, their subordinates and leaders alike, suddenly unable to remember who they were supposed to trust, who their allies were. They wouldn’t even remember Dazai was their boss.

You slipped into the dimly lit maze beneath the headquarters, the fog of your ability still working its magic above. The soft echo of your footsteps against the cold stone ground was the only sound as you navigated the narrow tunnel that led to the next step in your escape. Your pulse raced with adrenaline, knowing the chaos you had unleashed would buy you just enough time.

As you approached the end of the tunnel, your beloved mafia executive appeared from the shadows, waiting by the ladder leading to the manhole cover above. His familiar silhouette, though tense, brought you an unexpected sense of relief. He glanced up at you, his sharp eyes softening the moment they met yours.

"About damn time," he muttered, but his tone lacked any real bite. You knew him well enough to recognize the relief in his voice.

You gave him a quick nod, stepping forward as he reached out, placing a steadying hand around you. For a moment all that mattered was Chuuya Nakahara just 'him' with his short temper and rough edges, he had always been there for you. It was a truth neither of you had ever said aloud, but it didn’t need to be.

"Are you okay, hun?" His voice was so velvety gentle. He didn’t meet your eyes, his attention seemingly fixed on the ladder. But his hand remained at the small of your back, his thumb tracing a small, absent-minded circle against your clothed skin.

You nodded, trying to control your breath. "I’m fine," you whispered, though your heart was still racing. "It’s done. We have a window."

He exhaled, finally letting his shoulders relax. "Good, we need to move fast," he said as he positioned himself beneath the manhole cover. "This will take us closer to the station."

With a grunt, the mafioso climbed up the ladder and pushed the heavy metal cover aside, the cold night air rushing down to meet you both. He climbed up first, then reached down to help you out, his fingers gripping yours tightly as he pulled you up onto the street. The city was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic.

You glanced around, quickly regaining your bearings. "The train station is close, right?"

"Yeah," he replied, already starting to walk, picking up his pace. "I arranged a train to Kyoto. It'll give us enough distance, at least for a little while."

After a few minutes of fast walking, you approached the station, the faint glow of the train's headlights illuminated the platform in the distance. Chuuya glanced at you, his hand briefly finding your wrist, pulling you back for a second. His captivating azure eyes met yours, filled with something deeper than his usual intensity.

"You did good tonight," he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual. "But… you know he’s not going to let this go. We need to be ready for whatever comes next."

"I know," you murmured, stepping closer. "I have everything planned."

He just gave a small nod and released your wrist, his hand sliding down to intertwine his fingers with yours in a fleeting gesture of reassurance.

"Come on, we don’t have time," he said, his tone regaining its usual bite as he pulled you toward the station.

The two of you boarded the train, slipping into one of the empty compartments as the doors slid shut behind you with a soft hiss. The train rumbled to life, and the gentle sway lulled you into a momentary sense of peace, though you knew it wouldn’t last.

The mafia executive sat across from you, his hat pulled low over his eyes as he leaned back. He tried to act casual, like everything was under control, but you could see the tension in his jaw and the way his fingers drummed restlessly against his knee.

"Are you going to pretend you're not worried about me?" you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Chuuya huffs dramatically. "Shut up," he muttered, though his lips twitched slightly with amusement. "You’re not as helpless as you look. Who would have guessed you had such a powerful ability hidden up your sleeve?"

"Flattery won’t get you anywhere," you joked, watching the man beside you shift in his seat.

The man in question leaned forward slightly, his voice low, almost as if the empty train could somehow betray his words. "I mean it, though. No matter what happens… I’ll keep you safe." He parts his lips slightly as if he was hesitant. "He’s not laying a hand on you again."

You knew the moment of peace was fleeting, a temporary respite in the chaos that would inevitably catch up to you both. He’d find you—of course, he always did—but this soon? You weren’t expecting that. Still, you had a plan, a counter to his twisted, manipulative games. After all, you knew his mind, how he bent and twisted reality to his will. So, you played dirty, just like him.

The sudden jolt of the train hitting something, the screech of metal twisting and crashing, sent a shockwave through the entire train. Chuuya’s arm wrapped around you, his ability immediately activated shielding you from the impact. Through the dizzying haze, your vision blurred, but you saw him—a familiar silhouette in a dark coat, red scarf flowing behind him like a warning. He was walking toward you, his figure growing clearer as the dust settled.

There’s no time left. You had to move now, or it would be too late.

Your heart raced as you saw him clap his hands, the sound mocking in its slow, deliberate rhythm. He was amused. Of course, he was. The familiar twisted smile, painting the corners of his lips as he spoke, his voice sounded like something that could’ve been approval—or maybe it was just a new layer of threat. "Good job," Dazai drawled, eyes gleaming with that familiar, unnerving intelligence. Was he proud of you for finally releasing your ability for blanketing the entire mafia headquarters with the dense, confusing memory fog? Or was this his way of saying you’d only managed to amuse him, that your effort was nothing more than a brief diversion in his grand scheme?

He always knew, somehow. It was as if he could sense it every time. The thought gnawed at you as the devil in question stepped closer. Of course, Dazai had known about you and Chuuya all along. No matter how careful you were, how meticulously you avoided suspicion, he had always been one step ahead. Because he's the cunning devil himself, he's Osamu Dazai, the demon prodigy that was never left in the dark—not where you were concerned.

And now, you were trapped in his web again.

You saw him as he moved with the same old unsettling calm, his footsteps echoing in the eerie silence as he found a seat among the debris, settling down as if he were nothing more than a bored spectator to the carnage.

A crooked smile curled on his lips, his eyes gleaming with that disgustingly cold amusement. "Finally," he let out a breathless chuckle. "You’ve let your ability take control. I was beginning to wonder how long you'd hide it." His gaze flickered toward you, sharp as a blade. "I must say, I enjoy it just a little bit. Tell me darlin’, does that make me insane?"

Chuuya, of course, wasn’t about to sit idle. The moment Dazai’s words slithered into the air, he shot up, standing between you and Dazai, "You think you can just waltz in here and act like you have all of us under your command?" he growled, "You’re wrong, Dazai. I don’t give a damn about your twisted games or the Port Mafia. If it means keeping her safe, I’d watch it all burn."

The mafia boss's lips curled into a cruel smile, "Ah, Chuuya," he mused, tilting his head with a condescending air. "How touching. Such devotion. You’re so willing to throw away your morals, your loyalty—everything you’ve stood for—just for her. And here I thought you were just a pawn, but it seems I’ve underestimated you."

"You want to talk about misplaced loyalty? How about you look at her. Look at how you’ve torn her apart. Do you think you’re protecting her? Loving her? It's not an act of love if you force her, " Chuuya spat, shaking his head with disgust. How could he act like he didn't destroy you, tore you apart?

Dazai leaned back, unperturbed." Chuuya, you misunderstood everything, ehh? Everything I did was to protect her, to train her to conquer her fears and take control of her life. And look at her now—she’s in control, free from her own constraints. I’d say I’ve succeeded."

He leaned in closer, smiling like a maniac that he is, "If you think your misguided sense of protection is better than what I’ve done, then perhaps you should reconsider your own humanity. After all, it seems you’re more concerned with playing the hero than understanding what real strength and freedom look like."

You cut through the tension, drawing the gun that was placed in your backpack and aiming it at Dazai. "Enough." Your voice was steady, but your heart was not. "You’re right about one thing—this is my plan. I know you’re not as unfeeling as you pretend. I’m here to make you pay for what you’ve done."

Dazai scoffed, his eyes dismissive. "You can’t muster the courage to kill me, darlin’."

You clenched your teeth, the gun steady in your hand. "It’s not about killing you. It’s about making you feel the pain you’ve inflicted. Two years of this twisted mess, of apologies from my tongue but never yours, just endless torment."

You stepped closer, your voice trembling with rage and exhaustion. "Tell me, Dazai, if we had a daughter? I'd watch and could not save her. The emotional torture? from the head of your high table... she'd do what you taught her. She'd meet the same cruel fate.

"So now I've gotta run, so I can undo this mistake... At least, I've gotta try" your breath hitched in your throat.

For the first time in your life you saw Dazai's expression stripped of its usual layers of detachment. It was almost readable—though, in truth, it had always been so readable, you were just too hurt to see it..he seemed genuinely vulnerable, a rare sight for someone who usually masked their feelings so well.

"Do you really believe that, after everything," he voice dripping with a sadness he could no longer hide. He knew he had inflicted profound pain that his actions had not succeeded as he had claimed. He saw the woman he cherished, distancing herself from him, and it shattered him in ways he couldn't admit.

You fought to keep your tears in check, swallowing the rising tide of anguish.

The mafia boss, now a broken man, rose from his seat and moved closer with the same pained expression on his face that was too unfamiliar to you. For the first time, you didn’t flinch as he approached. Maybe your plan had worked—maybe now, he was the one truly hurt.

He gently took your hands, still gripping the gun so desperately, and aimed it at his heart as you stood there unshaken. You had emptied the gun, knowing that the real weapon was your words, not a filled barrel. You were fearless, no longer afraid of what Dazai might do, because the true pain was already inflicted.

"Go on, my love," he demanded, “Shoot me,” He pressed lightly against your finger on the trigger. Still, you didn’t move, you remained utterly still.

Time seemed to stretch, seconds dragging as Chuuya stood by, his eyes widening in shock. 'Is he out of his mind???' This can’t be happening!!!

Chuuya began to step forward, his ability ready to activate. But his shout was too late. “NO! THIS ISN'T YOUR GUN!!!”

You felt the pressure on your finger intensify, bewildered by the urgency in Chuuya’s voice. He knew the gun was empty—why was he stopping you? What does he mean this is not your gun?

Your confusion wavering as the trigger pressed down with an inexplicable force. Time seemed to distort, the moment stretching into a surreal blur. A bullet, as if conjured from the void, shot forth with a chilling precision, piercing the veil of reality and leaving you numb, detached from the gravity of what was happening.

As the bullet pierced Dazai’s chest, everything around you felt unreal, a dreamscape where the laws of cause and effect seemed suspended. The sound of the gunshot echoed in your ears, dissonant...distant, like a harsh reminder from another world.

Your eyes widened in horror. You were sure you had emptied the gun. How could this happen? Your heart raced as you screamed in agony. “NO, OSAMU!!!”

You reached out, your hands trembling as you tried to grasp the enormity of what had just transpired. Dazai's body fell forward against yours, a warm, crimson stain spreading through your clothes.

You collapsed to the ground in a haze, disbelief clouding your mind. This can’t be real… it feels like a cruel illusion. His shallow breaths brushed weakly against your skin, barely there but enough to hold onto.

Chuuya rushed forward, gently cradling Dazai's head beside you, his eyes betraying a depth of sorrow that he struggled so hard to contain. The train car, once a mere backdrop to your confrontation, now felt like a tragic stage for this final act.

Dazai's breath was shallow, as he slowly tilted his head, his eyes locked with yours, a fading smile painted his now blood stained lips.

“Finally, my love,” he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re free from my grip… free from my control.”

His gaze shifted to Chuuya, and he managed a weak, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry... for everything.”

His heartbeat faltered, the rhythm of life slowing to a stop. With a final, shuddering breath, Dazai’s eyes closed, and the warmth faded from his body.

You could not control your sobs, the anguish tearing through you like a relentless storm. You had hated him, yes, but never wanted this. Never wanted to see him die, to feel this unbearable void where his presence had been.

Chuuya, his face etched with profound sorrow, held back his own tears as he watched his boss and former partner slip away. “You were always such an idiot, Dazai.” He managed a sad smile through his tears, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities of their shared history. He knew now, all too late, what Dazai had truly intended and the extent of the manipulation that had led to this tragic end.

The wrecked train car felt like a distorted realm, every sound and motion warped by the intense grief that filled it. Your loud sobs echoed eerily through the wreckage, the sound reverberating in a way that made time seem to stretch and slow. Each cry was a jarring note in a symphony of desolation, creating a haunting melody that seemed to hang in the air.

A day had passed since Dazai's tragic end, whether it was death or a calculated suicide. The weight of his absence still lingered in the room.

The sun cast a dim, melancholic light through the window as you sat next to Chuuya on the couch in your room, holding a burgundy envelope. its edges slightly crumpled from the many times you had picked it up and set it aside. The elegant cursive writing on the front, "𝑇𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝐼 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑦 :D" the absurdity of the smiley face—silly and oddly incongruent—making you hesitate even more.

“It’s okay, honey, I’m here,” Chuuya whispered, placing his gloved hand on your thigh and rubbing circles to sooth you down.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and carefully peeled open the envelope.

"𝑇𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑠,

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝐼’𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡, 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑦. 𝐴ℎ, ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠.

𝐵𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝐼’𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑, 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟, 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤, 𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛.

𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑦, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦. 𝐼’𝑚 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡, 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐼? 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑦. 𝑃𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ. 𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑, 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒—𝑠𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛—𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑦, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑗𝑜𝑦. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐶ℎ𝑢𝑢𝑦𝑎, 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑒, 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑦.

𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠: 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘.

𝐶ℎ𝑢𝑢𝑦𝑎, 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑, 𝐼’𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢’𝑣𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑚𝑒, 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦’𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙, 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ, 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠.

𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑. 𝐼𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑦, 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠. 𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐼 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡.

𝐼𝑡 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝐼 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡—𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟.

𝑁𝑜𝑤, 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑠, 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒, ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑚𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑠. 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑡.

𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒,

𝒪𝓈𝒶𝓂𝓊 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾,

𝑃.𝑆: 𝑀𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑔𝑢𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐷𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ—𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜."

As you finished reading, your sobs erupted uncontrollably, the grief of his words and the weight of his absence overwhelming you. Chuuya encircled you with his arms, drawing you close and planting gentle kisses on your temple.

“It’s okay,” he whispered repeatedly, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

As your cries began to subside, the room remained shrouded in a mournful silence. The letter had left a new reality for you both to face.

The ink had indeed dried, but it was not your ink that marked the paper; it was Dazai's.

A/N: If you’re still with me, high five! You’re just as wonderfully tormented as I am, haha. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think! *KISSES*

-Heavily inspired by the songs "Labour" by Paris Paloma and "Will I Ever Love?" by Anya Nami

➵Want more of Chuuya Nakahara ?

[iceunhie]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⊹ unexpected development ! ꒱ ˎˊ˗

summary ⁠☆ you get transported into your favorite otome game’s world as a shitty side character with a raging death flag. you try to prevent your inevitable destruction... but it doesn't go according to plan as much as you'd hope.

notes ☆ of course it's another scaramouche fic except this time it's plot is manhwa inspired

“This trashy game!” you curse, watching the pitch black GAME OVER screen linger in your phone. Happy music plays despite the current cg of your character at the hands of the tyrant character slash love interest Scaramouche. You sigh, tapping on the back button. “I was so close to completing his route… stupid, stupid game, ugh…”

Teyvat’s Seven Stars was a new otome game that you'd tried out for fun, bored out of your mind. The amazing art and soundtrack garnered your interest, not to mention the male leads were totally your type!

It had an array of tropes and spared no expense of flowery scenes and fanservicey excerpts that made you play despite its massive cashgrab feature. Heart fluttering near death scenes! Action packed romantic scenes with the main characters! It was consuming you and you loved it.

Even if the Scaramouche route was testing your patience.

You get that he was the most difficult to conquer out of all of them, but really, one! wrong! move! ….and an immediate gameover. Life sucks when he's your favorite character, and when your favorite character was notoriously known for having a horrid and difficult complete clear route that no one has completed yet, of course you needed to complete it, no matter what!

Damn it, now you've run out of love points to restart another run. Fuck you, system! Stupid trashy money grabbing game! You put down your phone, closing it. An immediate heavy weight settles on your shoulders, making you feel sleepy as you clutch your phone to bed.

Tomorrow… you'll complete his route for sure…

[ TEYVAT’S SEVEN STARS SYSTEM ACTIVATED! RUNNING GAME FILE NOW ]

Ah. You should've known what was coming.

—

[ CHARACTER FILE: [NAME] [LAST NAME] - CROWN PRINCE KUNIKUZUSHI’S BETROTHED! ]

What the fuck.

You think you've lost feeling in your jaw when the glare of the system shines bright, mocking you.

“[Name], you're awake!” You turn to the sound, and you face probably the most beautiful person you've ever seen. No, what the hell. You've seen him before.

Beautiful silky dark hair, glossy electric indigo eyes, a perpetual aura of ethereal lightness…. the game descriptions weren't lying after all. yes, you weren't dreaming. This was Scaramouche, or should you say at this point in time… Kunikuzushi?

He immediately clings to you. Oh. Oh. Well fuck. “I… uh.”

Scara- ahem, Kunikuzushi’s eyes are littered with tears and oh no you're a weak hearted person for your favorite character. “I'm so glad you're okay! I'm sorry, my mother- I mean, I'm so glad you're okay.”

The rest of the moments is a blur when your… fiance? betrothed? fills you in on what happened. Your mind is fuzzy and you can only piece together just a rough summary of what point in the game you're in.

So, you are currently three years early from the main story. Unfortunately, you are not either of the main protagonists Lumine or Aether. No, the system apparently hates you for being a hater and gave you the most egregious role.

A side character. A side character who barely even appears in the story, left to be trampled on by the story's plot. What's more, you're in the timeline wherein the current Kunikuzushi doesn't take the name Scaramouche because his Mother, the lone Queen Raiden Ei left him when he could not pass the Inazuma kingdom’s test to be worthy of the gnosis.

He took the name Scaramouche after being trained by the shady organization known as the Fatui, the main villainous force in the game and usurped his mother. In other words, a blackened tyrant character!

...And you were the betrothed his mother set for him - executed in the future because he didn't want any trace of Ei’s influence. Amazing.

The future Kunikuzushi would be an arrogant, tsundere and soft-for-only-one-person type of character, but now, he was like a gentle, tucked away from the world young prince.

Wait…. wasn’t he also gullible before?! Very cute, but it's no wonder he blackened so quickly with such a naive personality!

You, well, technically, the character [Name] [Last Name] ended up in this situation after they threatened to leave Kunikuzushi because he was far too fragile for their taste. A side character who’d contributed to Scaramouche’s blackening and paid for it with their life. That was who you were.

Okay, now you pity this boy a lot. He already had a traumatic childhood with Ei not giving him enough love and therefore a plethora of issues, and he'd even end up being a crazy tyrant who stopped at nothing to get the main protagonist in his grasp! For your death flag not to happen, you HAD to do something about that.

You had no choice.

To survive this horrendous fate, you came up with a plan. And that would be Plan give-kunikuzushi-all-the-love-in-the-word-before-he-meets-the-protagonist-and-turn-into-a-blackened-dark-tyrant!

Okay, lengthy plan, but to plan ahead is to be smart, so you can take care of the name later.

—

So far so good, this plan of yours. Plan get-kunikuzushi-to-turn-into-a-sparkly-prince character and not his blackened self was going well! (You gave up on thinking of a cool name) Thank god for cliche romance novels.

So far, you've increased your proximity to him, including him to spend time with you, showering him with bouts of affection and care. And so far, it's been paying off. The once secluded Prince has become so cute and so sweet!

You have to pat yourself on the back for this. You were doing the protagonist a huge favor that now they had a wonderful love interest in their sights for future reference.

Although, if there was one nitpick you had on your conduct, it would be the fact that Kunikuzushi didn't take kindly to others aside from you, and would even be panicked, utterly devastated if you even brought up the mere mention of leaving.

“Break… our engagement in the future?” if it weren't for him looking shell-shocked and deathly pale, the furrow on Kunikuzushi’s face would've been cute. “No! I don't want that! You aren't planning to leave me, are you?”

He gives you the most horrendous god kneeling look of a plea, and of course you drop the subject immediately.

“It was a joke, of course. I'd never want to break our engagement!” you hurriedly reassure, gently taking his hands in yours.

Kunikuzushi looks at you, all puppy eyes and pink cheeks. So cute. Who wouldn't want to stay by his side? You reassure him, “Whatever happens, I'll always stay by your side, okay?”

He looks at your intertwined hands with an unreadable expression on his face. “Do you promise?”

You nod. “I promise, Kuni.”

He nods, gripping your hands tighter, and his expression rivals a blazing sun, brimming with conviction as he pulls you in for a huge hug.

And of course, who wouldn't turn down an opportunity to hug their favorite character?

Surely this time, you’ll definitely escape the death flag and horrendous side character ending, right?!

You don't notice the shadow on Kuni’s face when the mere mention of being separated from you comes up.

In the back of your mind, you wonder what would happen if your Kunikuzushi met the protagonist. Would he immediately fall for them? you wonder, and an uncharacteristic pang of discomfort tugs at your chest. Ah, what would it matter.

You smile at the gentle, pristine and kind Kunikuzushi that's currently excitedly telling you about how Ei praised his sword skills after he beat his younger sister. Even if the main protagonist would come here, you could keep this adorable Kunikuzushi for yourself for just a little longer.

You kiss his cheek, and he heats up. Yes, the future can wait for now.

How the hell did it come to this?

“You told me you'd always stay by my side, right?” a hand slicked with blood is resting on the side of your face. Electric indigo eyes, these ones now having a ruthless glint to them, stare up at your own. “I've removed everything else that can take you away from me. Now, you have no reason to leave.”

By remove, he meant the man who'd decided to make a move on you after you went to the gardens for some fresh air. Hence the blood on his hands and sword, hence the reason why there's a dead body by your feet.

The once adorable and fair-faced Kunikuzushi still turned into Scaramouche after all, and you failed to prevent his blackening. He was truly, undoubtedly the same game Scaramouche.

But… Why was he acting like this? Wasn't this the exclusive feature only the protagonist should be experiencing?

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then the back of your palm. You blush.

Yes, he is now an extremely dangerous individual capable of executing anyone he deems appropriate to just for the sake of it, and yes, this same man is kneeling before you as you're just about to leave after the main storyline cg act just started. And yes, like the protagonist, you should stay far, far away from him.

But could you really? When he was pleading you with such an expression of longing and yearning? He takes your hand to caress it to the side of his face, eyes haughty and grin unsettling, gosh was he so… so attractive, like that.

“You won't leave, right?” Why was he so…. so sweet? Why was this scene structured as if you were the one he wanted to be with, not the protagonist? “You promised me, after all.”

….And why on earth did your heart leap out of your chest when he said he wanted you to stay?

(It was hard to pretend you didn't know why when the smile on your face said otherwise.)

1.5k words, only the real ones know that ive been planning a cliche otome game au since day 1 I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAPPENED TO ME WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS FIC 😭 might turn this into a series if people like this though <3

@ MHIIEEE : do not repost, copy or plagiarize or claim my content or work as your own.

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 12

content warning: Miguel is very dramatic in this one, mentions of food

word count: 4k (SHOUTOUT TO MY BETA!! @slushycoookie 🩵)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: This story is not canonical. 😒 Most, if not all, of the characters used are OOC. I literally can not stress this enough.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been just about a month since he’s seen you. It’s the middle of the week and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to go crazy.

It feels odd because you’re on the same campus as him. You’re not across the country. You’re not out of the country. You’re literally a short walk or drive away and neither of you have time to see each other.

He’s considering printing your pictures out and walking around with them like a forlorn lover looking for his lost soulmate. It feels like he’s back in his bedroom staring at your pictures for hours like a man at war aching for home.

He’s exhausted all of his options.

The couple-lunches have all been rain-checked, the weight of your workload trapping you in the Art building.

Your sleep schedule was terrible, if the late night TikToks and reels were anything to go by. He knew you had morning classes too so he could only assume you’ve had a few hours of sleep during the weeknights.

The weekends were for rest and he didn’t want to disrupt yours.

Your dorm tracked visitors which means he’d only have a few hours with you before curfew if you were even there.

GymRat!Miguel who misses you so bad he’s temporarily replaced his gym playlist for the one you gifted him.

His face is set hard, feet heavy as he sprints over a curved treadmill. After a few minutes he stops, takes a small break, and runs again.

Even the melodic and somber voice playing over a groovy piano couldn’t soothe his thoughts.

His heart rammed in his chest as sweat trickled down his face, his tank drenched and clinging to his chest.

Just a few more sprints to go.

GymRat!Miguel who slides the ear of his headphone off because Xina is standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“Anymore sprints and you’re going to pass out,” she hands him a towel.

“Maybe I want to,” Miguel grumbles, nabbing the towel and rubbing his face like someone spit on it.

Xina grabbed her ponytail and pinned it up, loose hair sticking to her neck. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny. I can only manage pulling your body to the entrance to the gym.”

Miguel snorted.

GymRat!Miguel who fills up the time that he used to spend with you to get to know his friends and meet others.

This meant having game nights with Peter and Ben. They were so close, not really, to convincing him to join their DND parties.

If he wasn’t with them, he was occasionally calling The Geek Squad and catching up. A Friendsgiving date was now tentatively on his calendar because of it.

Of course, his robotics team was still going steady. Aaron was interesting, if nothing else, and Margo was like the little sister he never had.

Then, there was checking up on Gabriel like a Tamagotchi. Was he eating ok? Did he need some money? Is he trapped in the subway? Did a rat eat him?

Gabriel had sent him a screenshot of his contact with his name being changed to “Mom #2.”

Miguel only scoffed and told Gabriel his name was going to get changed to “pain in my ass.”

The newest development, however, was Xina. Her transferring here felt like middle school when they used to be attached at the hip.

They had their programming class together two days out of the week, biweekly study sessions, and the occasional late night excursion.

It also explains why she’s eyeing him from the stairmaster while he heaves over the handles of the treadmill.

GymRat!Miguel who thanked Xina as she handed him his jug of water. He sat up from the bench to let her take a seat.

“So,” she started.

“I’m not helping you hack your professor’s dashboard. While you could do it, it’s not a good idea and quantum physics isn’t that-“

“It’s not that, you dick,” Xina pinched his side. “It’s you. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

“Miguel.”

“Xina.”

“Now, you’re being a brat. Something is definitely wrong.”

Miguel picked at the peeling Game Over sticker on his bottle. He needed to tape it down or he’d lose it.

“I miss her.”

“Miss who? Your mom?”

“What? No. I miss my girlfriend.”

It was quiet between them, the sound of chatter and the clanking of equipment filled the white noise.

Xina tilted her head, “That bad?”

Miguel nods.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

He takes a dramatic breath, “Our anniversary date. Last month. I feel…”

“Like you can’t function? Like it’s hard to think?”

“Is that pathetic?” Miguel winces. “I have a feeling you’re going to say that it is.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Miguel pouts as he looks up. Xina shrugs and slides her hands on down her leggings.

“Remember the times I went boy crazy? All the times I came crying to you after they screwed me over, even when you already warned me they weren’t good guys? I think you deserve to be crazy about your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” Miguel blinked. “You were way too nice to those first guys.”

“I learned though, didn’t I? I know a good guy when I see him, now,” Xina pushed at Miguel’s shoulders with hers.

“And now those self-defense lessons won’t go to waste, right?”

Xina snorted as she recalled the time she managed to flip Winston on his back at Miguel’s instruction.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Xina’s eyes grow in shock when he tells her how long he’s been dating you.

“Dang,” Xina stops in her tracks. “A year?”

Miguel puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, a confident stride in his step, “One year and counting.”

“That’s,” Xina turns and waits for a car to go by. She readjusts her gym bag. “That’s awesome, Hare-Hare.”

GymRat!Miguel who feels the mood shift by the time he drops Xina back off. He’s not sure what’s brought it up, but now he’s nervous about upsetting her more.

He taps on the wheel, after he pulls into a park.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you anything? You don’t need to go anywhere?”

Xina unbuckles her seatbelt, “Nope. All good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he watches her close the door before he can even finish. “See you.”

GymRat!Miguel who obliges when Xina texts him the next day to switch up their study session location.

Miguel wanted to keep the busy calm of the 1st floor of the library but Xina insisted on giving him a change of scenery.

“It’s good for you! You stare at the screen all day when you’re coding,” Xina slams Miguel’s car door to which he sneer at her for. “You need to look up and smell the coffee sometimes.”

“You just want a reason to not do your work.”

Xina turns around and walks backwards in front of Miguel, “And that’s completely fine. We should live a little.”

She trips over the edge of the sidewalk with a yelp and Miguel is quick to catch her, the panic on his face evident.

“See,” she grins as she pulls herself up by Miguel’s shoulders. “Living!”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Xina order for him while he finds a table.

The cafe was bright, white wood accenting the walls with vines and plants adorning the area. Salmon pink brought a pop of color to the sandy-looking tables and fairy lights hung in the corners of the room.

Miguel’s eyes grew as he saw the variety of desserts on display, his mouth itching to take a bite.

“No, no, no. Go away. I’ll pick something you’ll like,” Xina blocks Miguel’s lingering eyes.

Miguel clicks his teeth, “If it’s not good, I’m going to be really upset.”

“I doubt it.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks deeper into the cafe. He’s dodging ceiling plants left and right, but he’s sure that the best seats are in the furthest of the building.

He shuffles around a corner, eyes adjusting to the sun coming through window.

He blinks a few times and takes in the spacious area.

That’s when he sees you.

He walks fast, the strides of his steps wide.

The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of peaches builds. The sun was shining down like it granted Miguel one the greatest gifts of his life. Its rays danced across the spot that you're in.

He gets to your chair and pulled it out with ease, the sound disrupting the hushed corner.

A pen falls to the floor, voices are cut short, and arms are flailing but Miguel’s nose is buried deep into your neck.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your voice skips across his ears.

“I-” a kiss across your face, “missed you so much.” Miguel looks at you like you hold the stars in the sky within your palm.

“You scared the shit out of me, Miguel,” you say with no really malice in your voice. Your thumbs run across his cheeks, watching as he beams at you. You kiss him once or twice, heart fluttering as your feet dangle in the air.

“I hope there aren’t many people picking you up in the middle of establishments,” Miguel mumbled across your lips.

“Guys, there’s people staring at us,” a voice creeps in from the side of Miguel.

Miguel’s eyes follow it to see a deer-looking kid with hoodie pulled up over his ears.

“Who is this?”

GymRat!Miguel who is introduced to Miles, your freshman classmate that you’ve taken in.

He’s sitting across the table nodding along to you as you rave about Miles’ work. The entire time, his right hand didn’t leave your left one.

“So,” Miguel chimes in when there’s a pause. “Have you both been coming here a while?”

“Nah, I just dragged her out here recently. She never leaves the art building when a deadline is near. It’s kind of depressing-“

“You know, Miles.” You're holding back an eye roll. “There are times when you could just not talk.”

“No, actually tell me more,” Miguel insisted, attentive.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries to help a struggling Xina when she rounds the corner with a tray full of goodies.

A cinnamon roll, a lemon tart, a tall purple drink, and some warm tea is placed on the table while you and Miles clear the area.

You sit up straighter to watch Miguel pick up the tea cup and blow over it. “Tea? No milk with a pinch of coffee?”

“Amor…”

Xina looks over to his cup, “Did you want something else?”

“No, this is good, I haven’t had this in a while,” he takes a sip and hums while explaining to you. “I’ve been on this sweet drink kick since she let me try her frappe last year.”

“That’s rich because you always hated it when I got those.”

“To be fair, you downed like four of those in one day. I’m surprised your body didn’t go into shock.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Four in one day must have meant you were going through it.”

Xina smiles and nods her head, “Exactly. And I told him-”

“We’re not doing this,” Miguel grumbled and stabbed his fork into his roll. “Four was way too much and she was bouncing off the walls all day just to crash and throw up on my shoes.”

“I said I was sorry about that!”

GymRat!Miguel who cuts pieces of his dessert to feed to you. You look at him incredulously as he insists on giving you bite after bite.

“Is it good?” Miguel asks chewing his own piece. You nod and he grins, happy in the bubble he’s created.

When Xina reaches for his plate for a piece he slides it away with ease, a move he knows too well.

“Why can’t I have some? I bought it.”

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Neither did she!”

Miles leans over to you, “I feel like I’m watching a fight between me and my baby sister.”

Miguel is pushing Xina’s hands away from his plate while she laughs up a storm. You think that it does mirror something like Gabriel and Miguel’s relationship, but something about Miguel isn’t the same.

GymRat!Miguel who continues his Tom and Jerry act with Xina even when the food is gone.

They were bickering over some formula that you couldn’t begin to figure out by yourself. To Miguel, it’s easy. To Xina, the setup makes no sense.

“How did you survive Ivy League without me?” Miguel asks as he reaches over and erases an error on her page.

“Like I do anything else, with peace.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Miguel points his pencil at Xina, “you hate me and I am not needed for problems 4 through 10.”

“No!” she panics, pushing his pen back to the paper. “I need you to start this one. I don’t understand it.”

“We just did one like this, though. It’s just the imaginary number all over again.”

Xina groaned and slumped in her chair while Miguel just turned back to his on work.

GymRat!Miguel who peers up from his computer to watch you work. You eyebrows pinch as your wrist moves across the large sketchpad in front of you. Your hand is moving fast and you’re so focused. Miguel hasn’t seen you like this before. In your element.

He leans his head on his hand, cheek squished and staring at you like he’s never seen you, like you were something to be admired.

You were pretty today, a sweater with some cartoon on it and some jeans that flared out at the bottom. Your bunny necklace was dangling around your neck and your glasses were falling down your nose.

You push them back and a smudge of charcoal from moving Miles’ artwork gets on your cheek.

“Stare at her any harder and she might grow something freaky,” Miles whispers.

Miguel falters and grabs a napkin, leaning to wipe your cheek, “She has something on her face.”

GymRat!Miguel who tries to be even more discreet as he watches you fill up the page. It’s mesmerizing seeing what you come up with.

He’ll type a little bit then look at your sketches, he’ll click a few links then look at your face. Sometimes, you would catch him looking and smile at resulting in his heart picking up.

Occasionally, Miles would ask your opinion on something and you would give him pointers, the two of you discussing something about focal points and rule of threes.

Miguel just wanted to put his stuff up and listen to you all day.

“What are you working on?” Xina asks, her voice breaking the silence. She’s staring directly at your drawings, fingers tapping against her notebook.

You perk up and flip your pad around, “It’s some ideas for one of our bigger projects! The theme is reinventing a classic, so I’m thinking something like a spin on Lady Godiva with a haunted theme and darker palette. Or The Fallen Angel with a bird’s eye perspective of him on the ground.”

You took a breath and flipped the page, “And then there’s The Kiss which I wanted to actually do a glaze to really give it that ‘mosaic’ look.”

Miguel leaned in with Xina to take a closer look.

The sketch was exceptional to say the least. Miguel wasn’t too sure how the original painting looked, but your drawing detailed a woman wrapped in these angular, moving shapes. Her face was angled up and a far-off look adorned her features. To her right sat a man whose lips were on her neck and his attention solely on her.

It was soft, yet strong. How you managed to put so much intimacy onto a single page was beyond him.

The feeling of it was familiar and when he looked up at you, he knew.

Miguel opens his mouth, “It’s..”

“Boring.”

“Beautiful.”

He turns to Xina with a frown on his face as she flips back to the front page.

“I mean, I think one of the other two is better, you know? More of a twist on the originals. The last one feels safe.”

The table is quiet as Xina’s comment marinates. She’s flipping further into your book and Miguel promptly snatches it from her and closes it a bit harder than he needs to. Miles shifts in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink.

“Can you explain why it feels safe to you?” your fingers pick at a nail.

She looks up, “Well, don’t you want to stand out? Out of the others, I don’t think this one is that unique.”

“The point isn’t to stand out,” Miles chimes in. “The assignment is about remixing a classic and all three of these do that pretty well.”

Your smile is small, “Thanks, Miles.”

“So which one do you think is better?” Xina asks.

“The last one,” both Miles and Miguel say.

“It carries the emotion of the original while also bringing more focus to couple rather than the abstracted cloth. You can see the love between them in a way that the original doesn’t have and it’s not even painted yet,” Miles talks with ease. “But! That’s just my opinion.”

“I think it’s powerful,” Miguel hums. “You should go with that one.”

You nod, thumbing over the corner of the pages.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Miles nearly fly out of the cafe.

Something about catching the bus to go see a friend perform.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. “He didn’t even buy the tickets yet.”

GymRat!Miguel who can almost see the stress coming off of you in waves the later it gets in the evening.

“Are you alright?” Miguel places his hand over yours.

“Yeah, I think I need a nap.”

“Need me to drive you back?”

“No, it’s fine. You need to drive Xina back.” You start to pack up. “I brought my car anyways.”

Miguel follows your movements, hands putting his laptop up as well.

He hurries to pull your chair out and you thank him with a quiet voice. He follows you from the table to the door to your car. The scene is almost comical the way he’s in your peripheral.

“Will I see you again soon?” Miguel leans on the hood of your car, body practically falling onto you in the driver’s seat. “We gotta set up a date.”

“I’ll see what I can do, baby,” you rub his face and kiss the kicked-puppy look off of his face. “I’ll text you once I get back.”

“Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who throws his backpack in the backseat and slumps over the wheel once he’s certain your car was down the road.

“What now?” Xina patted Miguel’s back. “You miss her again?”

Miguel just dug his head onto the horn, the effect alerting anyone within 50ft radius.

“Ok, ok,” Xina yanked him up by his shoulders only for him to drop back down again. She sighs and grabs the back of his head with a slight yank to his hair.

Miguel swats her hand away with a grit to his teeth and a pinch to his brows.

Xina only holds her hands up with a grin lining her lips, “Calm down.”

“You’re really annoying me today.”

Xina drops her hands and her smile falters. Miguel straightens up with an apology on the roof of his mouth before Xina picks back up with joy.

“What I think you need is an awesome rager for your birthday.”

“No.”

“Why not? It could be fun!”

“I’m all partied out until next year.”

“Not even with your friends? People from your department? A couple of classmates? The robo nerds?”

“That’s robo rockstars to you.”

Xina laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

“I think it could be great, seriously. We’re doing it.”

Miguel only groaned and turned on the ignition.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to use his Sunday for relaxation, a cheat day, maybe a game or two with Gabriel, Peter, and Winston.

Instead, he’s lying on his bed listening to Xina rant about one of her roommates using the sink as a trash can.

“Like we have a ridiculously expensive trash can that’s less than a foot away from the sink. It’s a simple spin and drop.”

“Ok, I get this is really gross, but don’t you have other friends you could bother?”

Xina pauses, and points her finger at him, “Hey, I’m here to help you out. If I wasn’t here, who knows how down in the dumps you’d be.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

GymRat!Miguel who answers his phone while Xina has managed to pull Peter into a game of Overcooked on his Switch.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Miguel! How do I connect your father’s computer to the TV? He found a movie that we could watch but the screen is so small.”

“He found a movie but can’t connect cords?”

“Just answer the question, mijo.”

Miguel sits up, prepared to spend at least forty minutes trying to explain what an HDMI cord is.

“Yeah.”

Xina gasps, pauses the game leaving a displeased Peter, and hops into the corner of Miguel’s phone.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara!”

“Hola, mi dulce niña! Hace mucho que no te veo. ¿Que tal te ha ido?“ (Hello, my sweet girl! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?)

“Más o menos, pero me alegro de verte.” (So-so, but I’m happy to see you.)

“No, Xina! ¿Qué tienes?” (What’s wrong?)

Miguel just plopped the device in Xina’s hand, “I like how you both started a conversation on my phone.”

“We’ve got important things to discuss,” Xina waved him off while she and his mother continued to fawn over each other.

Miguel just slid off the bed and joined Peter.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t get his phone back until curfew hours are around the corner.

Xina and his mom discussed everything from reality TV to recipes to her time up north. Xina left happier than when she came in which Miguel didn’t mind. He just wished he could have had the room to himself.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see your message until he’s about to go to sleep.

“Baby”

“Let’s do something together on your bday”

Miguel unpeeled his eyes and typed swiftly.

“YES”

“YEESSSS”

“Best birthday ever already”

“Someone’s excited”

“I haven’t even said what we’re doing yet”

“What are we doing”

“Tell me please”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Mmm”

“No”

“It’s a secret 🙂‍↔️”

“I can wait”

“That you are”

“Sometimes”

“😗”

“But mi luz I think Xina is trying to plan something too”

“Oh”

“Should we raincheck then?”

“NOOOOOO!”

“I can do both”

“I’ll literally split myself in two”

“You don’t have to choose”

“My gift is small”

“I want you to have fun on your special day”

“Can you come to the party?”

“I don’t want to miss it but I’ll have to see”

“If anything it’ll be much later”

“As long as I get to see you I’ll be happy”

“Good night bebé”

“Night!”

"Love you"

“Love you more"

divider by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I have no notes other than school is starting back up so my posting schedule will be even more irregular. 🤠 Please bear with me.

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[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟼

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), angst, hurt, language, mention of sexual assault (the deep, homelander)

Word Count: 5002

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You did your best to ignore Ben throughout the past week, despite the fact that you have not spoken much. Despite your immediate interruption, Ben was eager to continue his conversation with you. Furthermore, with all of the Vought business, things were becoming crazy. Not much had changed with Mindstorm, even though you and Ben continued to appear on TV every night on the news.

Ben was difficult to deal with and had a difficult personality in general. Now he was willing to get a little intimate, and he wasn't pushing you away this time, which left you confused and angry. In the past, you always pushed hard to be with him in every minute and every second, as if you were obsessed with him, even though he was occasionally distant from you when he didn't like being with you. If he had stayed as the same jerk from decades before, it would be simpler.

Actually, you were upset with yourself for allowing yourself to be affected by him. It was quite simple for him to show you compassion and behave as though he genuinely cared about you. It's highly likely that you were the most naive or stupid person to fall for him. You had admitted to him that you no longer loved him, and you weren't even ready to be honest with yourself about it. But at least you knew this: you shouldn't forget the damage that he had done to your heart since it was far more severe and strong than anything he had ever made you feel.

“Hey, it looks like you're deep in thought. Are you alright?” As you two watched a movie together, Annie asked. 

Ben, Hughie, and Butcher had gone shopping before coming back. Ben asked you to go out with them since you haven't left the house for a very long time, but even though you really wanted to go out, you refused to spend time with them, with him in fact. As much as you could hear, Frenchie and Kimiko were in their rooms playing video games.

“I wasn't,” you held your head in a mumble. “Maybe I'm just tired.”

“It seems like you're missing going out,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You know, things may be a little rough around these places, but you wouldn't be noticed. You can take in some fresh air.”

You gave her a meek grin and lied, saying, “I'm not in the mood.” You were actually itching to leave the house and breathe some fresh oxygen. It was as though you were choosing to be in a cage. “It's better to stay here until things get a bit better at least.”

“I actually don't know if it will though, but let's hope.”

Annie went on, “By the way, I'm sorry for my attitude toward you, weeks earlier. I suppose I was a little impolite, rude, and judgmental of you.”

Her abrupt admission and apology surprised you, but it also made you feel a little better. You whispered, “It's okay; I would be meaner if I were in your shoes. I am aware that trusting someone is difficult.”

“Yeah, but I feel bad about it,” she added, looking shy and placing her hands on her legs. “I should not have treated you the same way since I know how comfortable the firm is with lying to the public about you for the sake of themselves. The things I went through while I was a member of the Seven were similarly horrible. It wasn't right to judge you right away, not when I know the dynamics between the public and the firm and how it feels.” 

Her genuineness toward you made your heart melt. “It's actually not that bad. Don't let it bother you. I'm simply relieved that you don't feel the same way about me anymore.” You asked her gently, wanting to build a connection, “What have they done to you?”

She inhaled deeply, looked around the room as if she were searching for words, and then blurted out, “I am..sexually assaulted.” 

You whispered, “Oh, god,” and supportively touched her hand. “Can I ask... who?”

“I'm not sure if you've seen him on television. The Deep,” she muttered scornfully. “And Homelander is no different than him.”

“Yes, I did see him on television. Fucking bitch fish,” you mumbled. “You mean Homelander is the same as him. Is he also..?”

“Don't tell Butcher that I told you; don't actually mention it ever, but his wife was raped by Homelander.”

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief, and you were silent for a long moment.

“That is.. horrible. I have absolutely no idea what to say.” At last, you murmured, “I can't believe Vought is full of disgusting vile men,” remembering Butcher's expression when you had questioned him about Homelander. He was quite right and had his own reason.

“Yes,” Annie said in a sour tone. “No matter how many decades have passed, Vought is still the same asshole, whether you're a Supe woman or not. In actuality, they have gotten worse.”

“Leaving them behind was the right decision, and having Hughie with you is a gift.” You mentioned their relationship in an attempt to lighten the mood. “He seems like a very gentle and kind guy,” you remarked. “It's a good thing he's not supe. He has to understand who is in charge.”

Annie blushed and laughed when you brought up her lover. “Yeah, he's unlike anyone else. He's one of the key reasons I am here. I'm happy we got to meet.”

“By the way,” she muttered in a lighthearted manner. “What about Soldier Boy and you? It's obvious there is something between you two, even if I know you're going to deny it. Do you have a friends with benefits thing?” 

Confused, you asked, “What is it?”

“Well, it's just a term for people you know who have sex but continue to be friends. You don't grow any feelings or attachments for each other. It's all about sex.”

After considering the phrase she used a moment to reflect, you finally responded, “No, no, actually we are not something like that.” Leaning back in the coach, you whispered, “It's a bit complicated, actually,” as you recalled every memory you had of him. Your cheeks heated and your heart raced as you recalled the last conversation you had with him, the time you orgasmed on top of him. 

Annie may have noticed the shift in the body and smiled slyly, “It's probably not that difficult. But I had assumed that he was with the Crimson Countess. They must have been fan favorites or something.”

Annie's mention of Crimson made you uneasy. Because Ben had chosen her over you, knowing she was gone didn't provide you any comfort. You felt awful, thinking back on those dreadful times and how badly Ben had broken your heart. It was difficult to embrace such memories. 

You murmured, “We were a thing,” and acknowledged it. “Before Countess joined Payback.”

She just exclaimed, “Oh,” in an astonished tone, after realizing what you meant. “He's a vile asshole.”

“Yeah,” was all you said. “So, we are no longer a thing. Until that situation gets solved, I'm just going to hide like this, like a submissive rat. I don't want to deal with anything, but I'm not sure what to do after. Though I sincerely hope you succeed in eliminating the Seven—especially those bastards—I no longer want to be a part of it. I hope you can understand my reasons.”

“Obviously, you don't have to participate in anything or do anything, but your strength and assistance would be really helpful. It will be simple to make amends after Homelander dies, and you'll be free. I only hope Soldier Boy can kill him off. If not, we're not even sure what to do.”

“He made a deal with Butcher and promised him to kill Homelander.” You were aware of Ben's strength, and you could not see any other Supe being able to damage or beat him. “Once he made up his mind for something, Ben never stops until he gets it done.” 

Annie responded, "That's a relief," and she smiled a little. "Hey, let's not miss the movie," she murmured, gazing at the TV.

You nodded and offered her a feeble smile. You quickly grabbed your phone off the pillow when you noticed a notification, glancing at Annie as she got back to eating popcorn and watching TV.

Naturally, it was Ben who sent the message.

“?Do you need something????”

How considerate.

After giving Annie one more look, you leaned back on the coach to take up a more comfortable position.

You typed, “No.” after giving it some thought and then waited for another notification.

He was typing, typing, typing and typing.. It was taking taking him to write something for so long you got frustrated at some point. Then you finally got another notification.

“?Sure?????”

Asshole. Instead of punching your phone, you took a long breath. Although you were itching to argue with him over the phone, you tried to divert your attention to the movie Annie was watching.

You received another notification almost five minutes later. Ben had sent a blinking eye emoji. It seemed as though he was aware of how angry you were at the moment. You let out an irate sigh, grabbed your phone, and informed Annie that you would be in your room.

With a sense of relief that your period had finally ended, you took a shower. Ben knocked on your door, which was already open, and you made a tiny sound to let him in just as you were getting out of the shower, wrapped in a short towel. 

“Hey,” he remarked in a low voice, clearing his throat and quickly shutting the door to ensure that no one would see you half naked and wet. Ben went straight to your room after learning that Annie and Hughie would be staying tonight. It surprised you that he didn't argue with them about his bedroom. “Why is your door open all the time? Someone might have saw you; you're almost naked.”

As you kept using the towel to dry your hair, you rolled your eyes at him. “If someone was watching me, I'd known it, Ben.”

“And,” you said as you raised an eyebrow. “Someone is already watching.”

Ben inhaled deeply as he searched for a way to express how you had managed to rile him up. Okay,.

“It's not the same,” he asserted in a quiet yet assured tone as he observed you discarding the towel you used to dry your hair on the bed and opening the wardrobe to find something to wear. “And why didn't you text me back?”

You muttered, “Tell me how it's different.” and glanced at him as he approached cautiously, his fingertips resting on the furniture. “And well, because I was busy.”

“You already know why,” he remarked, licking his lips as he kept examining your body. Refusing to remember your orgasm on top of him while you were just getting your period was making him hard. Considering that you had never had a period while being together for a considerable amount of time, he questioned why you would now be getting one after all this time. 

You merely replied, “No, I don't know,” hoping to provoke him just a little bit. 

He continued shamelessly, “We fucked and still get off together; that's why, baby,” and you blushed. “Though we are not very active compared to the past, which is upsetting of course.” 

You opened your lips to deny and dispute with him, but you stopped yourself after taking a deep breath. You knew he would try hard to make your cheeks blush even more. 

You found a t-shirt and some underwear, which you put on the bed while you shut the wardrobe. At last, you were able to remember Annie's comments and say, “We were friends with benefits.” 

If you were the same person today, you would actually detest the idea, but since you are more grounded in reality, you can accept the circumstances as they are. In contrast to you, he had never developed feelings for you, which proved Annie. 

“What the hell is that?” Ben asked in an angry tone. He thought your statement sounded terrible and didn't like it at all. Ben sat on your bed as you hurriedly put on your t-shirt and underwear. Ben's hard look on your bare back was palpable. 

“It means engaging in sexual activity without developing an emotional bond. You maintain your friendship while having sex nevertheless.” You essentially gave him an explanation of it as though you'd known about it for a long time. “Getting off together is included.” 

Ben winced as you described the most idiotic and stupid type of relationship as though it were the most ordinary thing imaginable. “Who taught you such stupid stuff?” He asked furiously, unable to help but feel irritated that you weren't bothered by it. 

“Annie told me about it.”

Ben groaned as he removed his shoes and lay down on your bed. “It's not shocking that an ignorant woman is bombarding your thoughts with modern nonsense. I should have known only she could say such a stupid fucking thing. That must be her relationship with Hughie. Fuck, it's not shocking that he can't open his mouth while he is with her. What a fucking weak pussy.”

“Oh, god, don't talk about them in this way. Ben, they have a connection, a real one, a healthy one,” you murmured as he spoke in the most irritating tone imaginable. It was annoying that he didn't even take into account the nature of your previous relationship. “For the record, he is not concealing his relationship with Annie and vice versa. She really did walk out of the Seven. The company most likely had no approval of their relationship.”

“Touché,” he replied, observing your face fall as you sat on the bed and cast a dejected glance in his direction. He continued, “But our relationship was... health too,” when you turned away from him and lay down in bed.

You mumbled, “Sure,” and settled up in bed as comfortably as possible. Ben's huge and strong body was covering the majority of already limited space. It took a lot of work to stay away from him. 

Ben sighed as he watched your back longingly and heard your slow, deep breathing, as if you were holding back all you wanted to say. He was prepared to start over, make adjustments, and put things right even though he knew he deserved your attitude and that it would be preferable to push them beneath the debris, but he wanted you back so badly.

Ben finally murmured, “I care about you,” struggling to find the right words. “Very much.”

Ben tried to tell you how he felt, but it was difficult because you were constantly pushing him away. 

You quickly turned to face him since you didn't want to look at the walls any longer. “Did you care about me when you fucked Countess?” 

“Oh god, I didn't even fuck her,” he exclaimed harshly as soon as you brought up the redhead wily bitch. Because Stan Edgar was causing so much trouble, he should have killed him. 

When he revealed that he hadn't fucked Crimson before, you gasped. You just kept staring at him in bewilderment and surprise, as though you were about to dispute with him. You managed to whisper, “Liar,” not sure if he was telling you the truth or not. 

With an upset voice, he added, “Fuck, I'm not lying,” and he placed his right hand under his head. “I was told to have a relationship with her for the media by Stan fucking Edgar. Son of a bitch.” 

Ben was telling you the truth, and you could tell by the look in his eyes. You had no idea what to say at all because he was acting so very serious right now. You always assumed they were going all the way since they were always kissing when they were together and posing for pictures with the media. 

“Why didn't you tell me this before?” you asked, glancing out the window behind you as Ben hesitated. 

“I know, it's still unfair,” Ben said, attempting, though he was never very successful, to express himself. “I wasn't fair to you. You remain the last woman I have touched, even after all this time. I'm not sure if that means anything now. That's all I need you to know.”

You mumbled, “It's still cheating, Ben.” After his admission regarding Crimson, words were difficult to come by. You didn't want to admit it, but it did feel a bit better knowing he didn't touch Crimson Countess.

Ben opened his mouth to deny it, but then he sighed as he saw your look, which was a mix of disappointment and sorrow. There was no turning back to undo the damage he had done. What was done was done. He only hoped he could figure out a way to get your love back the way it used to be—with all of your devotion, passion, honesty, and loyalty. 

You asked gently, almost in a desperate tone that would make you loathe yourself, “Why did you leave me?”

As he saw how vulnerable you were, Ben softened his gaze and shifted positions in the bed, hesitantly moving closer to your face. Thankfully, you didn't even flinch, instead looking at him expectantly, as if you were ready to forgive him and let everything go. But he was aware that you were not yet prepared for that. You needed time, and he could give you everything you needed.

Ben found it difficult to speak as his fingers gently traced your hand. When he finally confessed, “Stan Edgar knew our relationship,” he was unwilling to tell you how much he was mistaken about you and how manipulating he was about you at the time.

You asked gently, “Did he want you to be with Crimson?” as if you understood him. 

It wasn't necessary for you to know how Stan Edgar found out about you. It would be shocking if Stan was unaware of you and Ben during the final months of your relationship because you two were acting quite recklessly. 

“Yeah,” he responded simply, meeting your eyes with his darkened ones. He seemed ready to act as he continued to study your wet lips and hair. 

His face continued to inch closer to yours as his one hand traced around yours, but you remained motionless. He was cautiously gauging your response every second. 

You mumbled, “Yet,” unable to stop your heart from racing when he was that close. “I don't want to love you ever again.”

With a groan, his soft lips found yours before you could even finish your sentence, and you were left wondering who started the kiss first.

When he eventually realized you had kissed him back, even if it seemed like your kisses were doubtful and ghostly, his hard and tight hands on yours loosened. His tongue slipped into your mouth as he noticed you were willing to go one step further, intensifying the kisses.

When your hands came to rest on his thick beard, it was unclear who was moaning more loudly in the other's mouth. The way he kissed you was different from the other kisses you shared; it was more intimate, but there was still this passion. Perhaps it was because it had been too long.

This time, Ben's hands weren't as strong or harsh; instead, they were surprisingly patient, understanding, and caring.

Your hands stopped behind his thick neck and slid to his powerful and warm chest, and he slowly pushed you against the pillow and went on top of you, making sure everything was done correctly and that you were completely alright with it.

For a brief time, you withdrew yourself to catch your breath while your hands lingered around his clothed chest, perhaps in anticipation of his response. As you both gasped deeply, his swollen lips waited on yours. You both gave a loud groan as soon as he pressed his hardness between your legs. Your legs involuntarily spread a little to give him space to move, and your heart began to race.

His lips were waiting on yours as his hands were fisted in the blankets, but he wasn't kissing you as if he were savoring this private time. He remained motionless and patient as you lifted your hips in an attempt to create friction.

He pulled his hips back, and before you could complain, he smacked his clothed hardness between your legs, causing you to gasp and grab onto his back with your fingers, holding onto his t-shirt. He went above you, but he didn't keep kissing you; instead, you were only touching lips and quietly moaning at one another's mouths. 

With a grumble, he pulled back his hips and gave your covered pussy another firm stroke. “Do you like this?” he asked as he repeated the movement.

Rather than responding verbally, you nodded in agreement and waited for him to continue. 

Ben stopped moving, gave you the command, “Tell me,” and waited on top of you.

You elevated your hips to create the same friction once more and muttered, “Yes,” weakly.

Your body needed to relax even though you weren't sure if you were ready for sex. Ben and his supe hearings have recently made your fingers unfamiliar with your pussy.

With one hand slipping under your t-shirt and his eyes fixed intently on you, he repeated, “Do you need me to make you come?”

Ben's hands carefully lifted your t-shirt. When your tits were exposed to his sight, he ran his fingers over one of your nipples, which made you gasp. 

He observed you intently, picking up on every facial emotion you made as he caressed your nipple. 

With a rough voice, he said, “You like it when I play with your tits, don't you?” Taking pleasure in watching you try to get some friction from his hardness by desperately lifting your hips to meet his. He was aware of your precise needs. “If you tell me to suck your nipple, I will.”

You gave him a quiet sigh into his mouth and pleaded with him with your eyes. He was enjoying seeing you like this, at his mercy. He knew exactly what you wanted. Even though Ben didn't do anything at all, you felt so close, even if it was difficult to force yourself to come. Being that near to him and tense while he was merely fiddling with your tits was embarrassingly good. 

“Tell me, baby.” You gasped in delight as he said, “I'll do anything you want,” and put his thumb to your hardened nipple. 

Please,” you eventually pleaded, desperately staring into his eyes. 

Ben sighed, grinned a little, lowered his head to rest on your body, kissed your breast, and started to suck so hard your entire body shook with ecstasy. Your hips lifted in anticipation as your fingers closed on his hair, forcing his head against your tits even more.

The sounds of wetness flooding the room as Ben was moaning around your nipple was filthy. As he played with your nipple with his tongue and licked it, his other hand gave you a hard squeeze, and you felt your walls tighten.

“Oh, Ben,” you let out a loud cry. He groaned loudly in delight as you pulled his messy hair. Your face reddened, and your heart began to rush rapidly.

This time you groaned in protest when he withdrew. You gasped sharply, leaving you on edge with burning cheeks as you glanced at Ben. Your fingers trembled in his hair.

Ben smiled at you because he could see you were desperate for him to continue, and he could also smell your swollen, aroused pussy leaking under your underwear.

With a quick sigh, he exclaimed, “Let me go down on you,” causing your eyes to widen. “I fucking need you to cum in my mouth so bad right now.”

His suggestion made you feel so shy that you released your grip on his hair and put your hands on his chest. 

You said, “But we... didn't do such thing before,” unsure of if he was really willing or not.

As he adjusted your t-shirt as he added, “I know, I know, that's my fault,” and then his fingers stopped on your underwear. “That's something I need to fix immediately.”

He kissed you firmly on the lips after noticing your hesitant and bashful expression and waited for you to answer. “Let me make you come.” 

You nodded briefly to him after a while and anxiously awaited his next move. You were a little anxious since you didn't know if he would really want it or would back out in the middle because he hadn't gone down on you before. 

Between kisses, Ben leaned down on your body and murmured, “Look at me,” causing you to gasp in shock as he planted a wet kiss on your covered pussy. You couldn't decide if his touch was making you too sensitive or too responsive. It felt like there was a lot of leaking beneath your underwear. 

He placed your legs on his shoulder and pulled your panties aside, revealing your wet pussy to his eyes and making you flinch for a moment while you continued to stare at him with flushed cheeks.

Excitedly, you put your hands on the sheets and waited for him to continue.

Before you could react, his warm lips reached your pussy lips. You gasped and tried to move your hips, but he stilled your body as he proceeded to kiss your clit. “Fuck, I missed your beautiful little wet cunt so much,” he muttered.

Ben's balls were hurting and his thick cock was twitching beneath his boxers, but he did his best not to remove it and stroke himself while he used his lips to fuck your swollen pussy. Now, your needs took priority.

Ben began to suck your pussy with a full tongue as you squeezed your lips together and clenched your hands into fists. You tried to shift your legs away from his shoulders, but he stopped you right away and sucked harder.

You let out a loud gasp as your hands found his hair and pulled his head closer, pressing it even closer to your pussy, just as Ben suddenly pressed his tongue into your hole. For an instant, you sensed his lips curled around your pussy, and he proceeded to fuck you with his tongue. Your voice was shaky as you began to murmur his name, your back arched.

Your legs trembled on his shoulders as he waited for your cum to fill his lips, pressing his tongue even farther into your hole. You began to cum into his mouth with a loud moan, unable to hold back yourself any longer. You were under so much pressure in that instant that you were about to cry for two reasons: excitement and embarrassment at not being able to contain yourself for even two minutes. You were unsure of the previous time your climax had struck so strongly.

You tried to push his head away from your body and adjust yourself, but he held you firmly and let you ride your orgasm into his mouth to the very end. “I'm sorry,” you muttered in a panicked and embarrassed manner. 

He planted a hard kiss on your clit, cleaned you off with his mouth, and adjusted your underwear when your orgasm subsided and felt too sensitive. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, I should have done this sooner,” he remarked, kissing your forehead for a long time after licking his lips. Though Ben's cock was hurting under his sweatpants and he was extremely hard, he knew that his desires could wait and that this wasn't the exact moment. 

While Ben's hands waited on the both side of your belly softly, you made a move to get rid of him, but he gently stopped you, saying playfully, “Hey, wait wait, what about a pillow talk?”

“I need to clean myself,” you murmured weakly, still feeling shy for letting yourself go in his mouth without a warning and too soon.

“I've already cleaned you up good, baby. You don't have to be worried about that.” He waited on top of you, with a smile on his face. Both of your hearts were still racing.

“Sorry,” you muttered shyly. “I didn't- couldn't warn you.”

“Come on,” Ben exclaimed, grinning broadly and sincerely. “I already tried to make you cum in my mouth. You did incredibly well. That's something I can do every night.”

He moved both of your bodies in the bed when you stopped moving beneath him. Without a word, you turned your back on him before he could embrace you. 

Ben moved to get close to you and held you in his powerful arms despite the bed's small size. You weren't strong enough to be hurt again, but your heart melted when his hands paused on your stomach and he hissed again behind your head. 

Knowing that his compassion was always accompanied by cruelty, you answered, "That doesn't make a difference, Ben. I still don't want to love you." 

Rather than responding to you straight away, he took a big breath, gripped your body tightly, and said, "I know."

Next Chapter

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A/N: I hope we are good so far.. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. They keep me going. ^.^

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeeeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner   @purplerosequartz @simpin4pixels @deebris @spideybv28 @mystic-mara @tranquilty @winchesterwild78 @jennifer0305 @ultraviolencexs @thecutestaaakawaii @justtnat @babythe67chevy @ashy-kit @ninii-winchester

@anna6307 @hey-there0-0 @shadowghoul2525 @darkqueen1995 @multifandomdiva @certifiedhaters @jenn-777q

[forgettable-au]

WHAT IS THIS AU? HOW DOES IT WORK?

A brief (I'm lying, this is a long post) explanation post for this AU for anyone new <3

As I've mentioned before, this AU is based on the theory that Papyrus is (was) Gaster. I did not create this theory, it has existed for a long time as far as I know and I'm also not the first person to do something like this with the concept, I'll touch up on that later.

This is a LONG post, so click keep reading if you really want to check it out :D

About the Papyrus is Gaster theory

I've looked up a lot of stuff about it but I don't actually know where it originated. It's not super popular but if you're a Papyrus theorist you might have heard of it before.

It's not a super serious theory really, it's more about pointing out the weird connections and similarities between Papyrus and Gaster and giving an explanation to the many weird things about Papyrus and his lack of backstory.

Just to mention some things:

Them both speaking in capital letters, having no asterisks, their weird way of phrasing things, Papyrus being described as forgettable, Papyrus hating hotland, pretending he doesn't know about a lot of stuff ( The lab for example, he know what a lab is but pretends he doesn't in front of Sans), Gaster being related to hands and Papyrus never taking his gloves off, Papyrus weird connection with phones (his photo-graphic memory for phone calls) and Gaster's weird connection to phones also(Fun events related to phones, using the phone in the darkworlds and only getting Gaster's garbage sounds), their love for puzzles (The CORE is a giant puzzle), THAT one quote that I still find misterious “beside, it’s rude to talk about people that are listening, right? not everyone is as though as my brother”, Papyrus DOES have Gaster blasters it's pretty much canon even if a lot of people ignore it, Papyrus is very very smart he has a LOT of books, knowledge on many subjects, building stuff, and even made a shakespeare reference when he died (why is he like this lmao), he's the character with the most dialogue in game yet we don't know a lot of stuff about him, he breaks the laws of physics and of the game, he's not in deltarune the heavily Gaster connected game.

Now that's some of the things I could think about, and look, yeah I'm probably looking too much into it and these are all just coincidences and the weird Papyrus things are related to other stuff maybe not Gaster. But I still like this theory, not because I think it's real but because I LOVE the possibilites!!!

About how this AU works

Okay, so this au is basically a -pretend this theory is real and how would the undertale timeline work then!- We're giving Papyrus his backstory and I'm also making a Gaster focused story at the same time.

I will adapt basically how I think a situations like this would play out (and also add some of my other favorite ut theories as a treat)

Papyrus used to be Wingdings and then Wingdings shattered across time and space, Papyrus and Gaster are different separate people.

Actually I kind of, treat WIngdings before and after accident as different people also... you change a lot when you become an omnipresent being. So, Wingdings, Gaster and Papyrus I treat them all as different people.

"How did Gaster become Papyrus?"

He didn't "become" Papyrus just like that. After he shattered he stopped existing like he was before, he became a being in another layer of the game but physically his body was just there

I based this on how the goners and Gaster followers have counterparts that are not, uh, goners that look different or deformed and gray

Papyrus was just kind af an empty shell at first, he still kept parts of Wingdings original personality but his Papyrus personality developed on his own with time!

"How did Gaster shatter across time and space?"

Usually everyone agrees it was because he fell into the CORE

Not here! I don't think the CORE caused his accident, it is a power source not a time and space altering machine. In this story it was some other thing he was working on, and it wasn't so much of an accident per se

About similar content

I've seen some people tell me this is a good idea for an AU and I agree!! I love this idea so much, but as I said before I didn't create this concept or theory I just love it a lot!! and was desperate for content wich I surprisingly did not found much of

I was so surprised, I really thought there would be more people that made this before but I couldn't find much, so I'm just making it myself and one of my goals is to maybe make other people like this idea and make their own takes on it !! cause i think it's neat and would love more perspectives and content

If you by any chance also like this concept as much as I do I just wanted to make this section to name some inspirations for this AU

First, you all should really see "I know that I know nothing" by linssins

It's because of this comic that I discovered that theory in the first place and really loved the concept. It's my main inspiration, unfortunately the comic is unfinished. If you see it you will definitely see how I took inspiration... Still my story and this au is a different take on the theory, it goes on a different path.

Also another inspiration for finding more stuff about the theory were

@askthesciencesquad This comic is paused but it's also a Papyrus!Gaster comic! and I was very happy to find it, it is also a very different take on the concept but I liked where it was going. The same person also has this other blog where they put a lot of Papyrus is gaster stuff :0 @deviodofmeat

Okay so that's it, maybe I missed some stuff? but if I remeber i'll just add it later, that's what's good about tumblr.

[meanbossart]

What horror games have you played/wanted to play? Also have you tried any rpg maker horrors?

I actually don't play that many horror games, I don't think? Between you and me most of them are... Kind of garbagee. But I like when really weird things are taken dead seriously, which most video games don't succeed at. But in the rare time they DO, it usually falls into the "horror" genre at least loosely. I'm just going to list my favorites:

PS: I'm really showing how insufferable I am with these summaries, sorry!

The Outlast series: the most Tasteful tasteless gory-shit-fest of a horror series I've ever seen. I don't like shock for the sake of shock, and Outlast somehow manages to always make it for the sake of SOMETHING. The original game+DLC is a buttload of fun, and if you pull back one layer it also poses some interesting and difficult questions about the place and treatment of the criminally inclined in society. Pull yet another layer back and you find a fascinating subversion of the expected role men are supposed to inhabit in horror games. The second game is a vastly different, and profoundly emotional experience, opinions on it vary for reasons I find very understandable, but I personally really like it.

Fear & Hunger: I guess this answers your question about RPG horror games! Unfortunately, this is the only one I ever played that I liked, but REALLY like it, I have a tattoo of the circle of perfection on the back of my hand, even, lol (I already had other hand tats, don't freak out). I just really like the absurdity of the story and all of the lore that the developer has cooked up for it, and the way it all matters but also kind of doesn't. I think its an insane feat to have achieved the atmosphere he did with the limited tools he has, not to mention the massive amount of respect I have for any creator that simultaneously wears their influences on their sleeves while displaying massive creativity and originality.

Pathologic: This game kind of speaks for itself honestly. Its just brutal, creative, infuriating, I could go on - It's probably the most immersive experience I've ever had in a game. If you've never played it before I would suggest buying Pathologic 2 (don't worry about it) and playing it completely blind. Forget about "winning", forget even about succeeding, just go about it as if you were in the protagonist's shoes and see where you leads you.

Scorn: Without a doubt in my top 5 games of all time and I don't care that that is an insane take. This game is everything I want from interactive stories - entirely intuitive, doesn't spoonfeed you a single grain of its lore or pushes its story on you, it just puts the pieces in your hands and its up to you to feel it on instinct. This 5 hour game with no dialogue, no text, not even any named characters to speak of had me crying at its ending and I didn't even know whether I was sad or overjoyed. I fucking LOVE scorn.

Honorable mention:

The Space Between by Christoph Frey (not to be confused with The Space INbetween.): Is a short, 30 minute experience about intimacy presented through a horror lens. I really don't want to say anything else about it, but I played it like 5 years ago and I still hold it near and dear to my heart. It's a master's guide to storytelling through semiotics and exemplary in it's... Emotionally charged visuals? Like, I had never before seen a story make sentiment into and external, tangible thing quite like this one does, like turning sound into an object or something. Amazing little indie game.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Killua and the Power of Wishes

Okay going to try and make this coherent because the amount of wish association all through Killua's character development makes me want to chew plaster.

As a fair warning, this analysis ended up being long as hell, and I didn't even include everything I could've said. This is also just one lens to analyze Killua's story arc with, and I feel there are other valid interpretations of some of these moments. This is just one of mine, so keep that in mind please.

One last warning that this analysis does discuss emotional manipulation and abuse, as is par for Killua's background.

Let's set the stage with one important piece of info: Killua's birthday.

Killua's birthday is July 7th, the same day as Tanabata. Tanabata is a folklore-rich festival where according to legend, the two lovers, weaver Orihime and cowherd Hikoboshi, represented by the two stars, Vega and Altair, are allowed to reunite once a year after separation. A popular custom of Tanabata is to make wishes by writing them down on tanzaku, then hang it on a bamboo tree so that the wish might one day come true.

Tanabata is also known as the Star Festival. Please keep this in mind, because I'm going to come back to it.

To finish setting up the lens for this analysis, I'm going to need to dig into the game-changer scene for Killua's early characterization - his confrontation with Illumi at the end of the Hunter Exam, and specifically, the exact nature of Illumi's manipulation of him.

I say "game-changer" because it really is - up until this point, it's kind of fair to not fully know what to think about Killua. Certainly, he seems excited to hang out with Gon (he approached him first, after all) and he's friendly enough, but he's also arrogant and claims to be motivated mainly by boredom. For all intents and purposes, Killua seems set up to be Gon's dangerous yet charismatic rival... but then this scene happens and it completely turns it all on its head.

Because Killua may have mentioned his family was controlling before, but he seriously downplayed the severity of it - likely because he has no point of reference for how awful his situation actually is other than it makes him feel bad and trapped. Illumi's appearance immediately shifts our understanding of Killua from runaway murder kid with annoying murder family to straight-up victim of emotional abuse, and dissolves his cockiness instantly to terror.

What does all this have to do with wishes? Glad you asked. Let's look at some of Illumi's dialogue.

[ID: A screenshot from HxH episode 20 of the 2011 anime. Killua looks up, sweating and conflicted, as Illumi tells him "You don't want anything or wish for anything." End ID.]

This is the crux of Illumi's (and the family's) control. Killua's desires do not align with the family trade. They must be excised from him.

When Killua insists that he does have something that he really wants, Illumi says "Tell me what it is you want", in a mockery of a certain other sibling who would have helped fulfill this wish - Illumi asks only so he can completely dismantle it. And Killua isn't even really surprised at Illumi's words, just heartbroken. You can tell this isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened.

Killua states his wish quite fervently; he really means it. But his words are not rebellious, nor cathartic. Instead, he answers Illumi quietly, as if fearful or ashamed, almost reminiscent of a sinner's confession.

[ID: Two screenshots from HxH episode 20 of the 2011 anime. In the first Killua looks down with a troubled expression, saying "I want to become friends with Gon...". In the second, his face is hidden as he stands with hands clenched at his sides with a spotlight on him. He says "I'm sick of killing people..." End ID.]

It's such an innocent, simple want.

And Illumi proceeds to make him feel like even something so simple is harmful and selfish of him... not to the family, but to Gon.

In a matter of a few minutes, Illumi breaks down Killua's wish by:

Acknowledging this desire, but twisting it into something that will inevitably fade over time, thereby causing Killua to doubt his own conviction and feelings -> "Gon is a novelty, a radiant presence who has piqued your curiosity. No more than that."

Acknowledging that Gon is someone important to Killua, and undermining this by telling him that by his very nature, he will eventually bring harm to Gon, which makes him feel as though Killua cannot trust himself to be a good friend -> "If you try to be friends with him, you will one day want to kill him... because you are, by nature, a murderer." (As a... delightful... bonus, this is also apparently how Silva and Illumi justify their treatment of Killua to him - "This is the essence of your existence and we taught you accordingly." Like they adapted to Killua's nature, instead of them molding Killua into who they wanted him to be.)

Delivering an ultimatum - to fight Illumi and win, or else Gon will die - that Killua is doomed to fail due to his upbringing and the needle in his head. Since Killua doesn't know about the needle, he assumes this is his own personal failure, something Illumi feeds into -> "You're just not qualified to make friends."

And it's the last point that breaks him. The first two shoot down Killua's present wish, but the last proceeds to shatter any hope he might've had of wishing for anything similar in the future - he has told him that his desires are weak, temporary, inherently dangerous to those around him, and worst of all, aren't enough on their own for him to deserve friendship and love from others. And the clincher: Killua feels like all of this is his own fault, that there is something inherently dangerous and wrong with him!

So, it doesn't even matter to Killua anymore if he fails the Hunter Exam. To him, he just failed the only test that mattered.

10/10 manipulation, Illumi. Fuck you, seriously.

Killua's character arc is mainly his quest and struggle to refute Illumi's arguments and to shake off the manipulation and the ways in which his family have molded and controlled him. And by far, the most difficult part of his conditioning to shake off is this idea that he is undeserving of anything more than what he is already given.

It's almost like the family has drilled it into him that wishes are dangerous. How interesting.

Thankfully, however, there are two parties to Killua's wish here - Gon, too, is a part of it, and it is not simply his reciprocated desire to be Killua's friend that saves him, but also his recognition of Killua's situation for what it is (notably, when no one else correctly identified the true issue).

"You know it wasn't his choice. You manipulated him, kidnapping his spirit!"

The ensuing Zoldyck family arc emphasizes that Gon is 100% correct: the main hold Killua's family has on him isn't physical - it's all emotional.

Killua breaks one of his shackles when Milluki threatens to have his new friends killed, but he only breaks the rest when Zeno tells him he's free to go. So, if Killua could break loose at any point, was this still a rescue like Gon said?

Well, yes - just because he absolutely could've broken out physically at any time, that does not mean he could just leave. That's the nature of situations such as this - it's not as simple as "just leaving". Support is necessary, as is actually having something tangible outside the situation to go to - otherwise there is little point to leaving at all. Gon (and Kurapika and Leorio) showing up to free Killua showed him that his wish was reciprocated and allowed him to break one cuff - this is the start of his journey, but he still has a long ways to go. Notably, he again hesitates and closes off when Silva asks what he wants.

[ID: Three panels from HxH chapter 42. In the first, Silva asks Killua "...would you like to see [Gon]?" Killua's expression is complicated in the next panel - he's closed off and uncertain. Silva continues "Be honest, Kil... what do you want?" End ID.]

Killua will backtalk and casually break his shackles and death glare his family... but he's too fearful to voice his wants aloud.

And once again, asked by his father what he wants, he is subtly set up to fail. His wish is granted, but made conditional - "Do not betray your friends", something Killua is regrettably set up to do by virtue of the needle in his head that he, again, doesn't know about. Silva fully expects him to fail and come back home, disillusioned, believing it's his own fault due to his "nature", and trusting in Silva still as a "reasonable" figure in his life.

This condition placed on his friendship is what drives much of Killua's fear and insecurity with regards to Gon for much of the series - the idea that Killua has to earn his right to friendship, and that if he doesn't, he will lose it, one way or another.

It really makes me wish that Killua had actually gotten to hear Gon's views on friendship from the beginning of the Zoldyck Family arc, because it entirely refutes this entire philosophy. He even outright refuses to go through the Testing Gates at first, purely because he thinks the sentiment of needing to prove yourself just to be friends is completely outrageous - he only relents because there is no other way.

[ID: Two screenshots from episodes 21 and 22 of the 2011 HxH anime adaptation. Gon looks up at Illumi and firmly states "[Killua] doesn't need to earn the right to be my friend!" In the second, Gon's face is seen in profile and close up as he asks "Why would you test your friends?" End ID.]

I doubt it would've truly prevented Killua's insecurity from manifesting even if he had heard this, to be honest - his issues with usefulness are very deep-rooted in his upbringing - but still, it would've been nice for him to hear, I think.

However, that's not to say that this exact sentiment doesn't come through in their interactions.

Gon, as Killua's friend, cares about what Killua actually wants and wants to make sure Killua knows that - and that's part of what makes the Whale Island conversation between them really important.

[ID: Two images, both of the same scene from HxH chapter 64, and episode 37 of the 2011 anime. In the manga panel, Gon has turned his head to look at Killua directly, who looks shocked and taken aback, to say "I like hanging out with you." In the anime screenshot, Gon has turned his whole body to face Killua, and says "I think it's fun to be with you." End ID.]

I see a lot of people chalk this up to just Gon being Gon, but it reads to me as much more deliberate than even his usual honesty. He's turned so he's looking directly at Killua, which is a sure way to make his words come across clearly. The lead up to this is Killua, again, not knowing or being able to vocalize what he wants. He doesn't have a goal to work towards like Gon, he only knows what he doesn't want - he's a mix of envious and admiring towards Gon, who knows what he wants and simply goes for it.

But this conversation makes it clear that they have a shared wish - they both want to be friends, and they'd both like to stay together. It's not about earning, to Gon, it's only about if they both want the same thing - mutual, not conditional. There's a nice almost call-and-response type dialogue here, where Gon asserts that he likes spending time with Killua (very directly lol), then shares that Killua is the first friend his age he's had. This prompts Killua to say that Gon is his first friend ever, and that he does have fun with him. And just like that, Gon replies "Then let's stay together!" and pointedly includes Killua's desire to find a goal in their, now shared, upcoming journey.

Overhead, a shooting star appears in the sky. A mutual wish is granted.

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 64. The night sky is full of stars. In the centre is a shooting star. End ID.]

Hm. Stars. Remember how I told you to keep that in mind, all the way back at the beginning? Their association with Tanabata, making a wish on a shooting star, etc. etc.?

Well, buckle up because this star is going to make you experience so much sadness now.

[ID: Panels from HxH chapter 286. The first is a conversation between Killua and Meleoron where Killua asserts he intends to "go down in flames with [Gon]". When Meleoron looks concerned, Killua brushes off the declaration as a joke. In the second image, Killua is turned away, his outline pale, as Meleoron thinks "Why... did you looks so sad... back there?" The last image is a cloudy night sky filled with stars. At the centre of the panel is a shooting star. End ID.]

Yeah, it makes its reappearance directly after Killua has "jokingly" resolved to die with Gon if it comes down to it, after "since it means nothing to you".

I am assured, in Japanese, the word choice here is 心中 (shinjuu), the word for double suicide, where the intent is to die at the same time in the same manner in order to be reunited in the afterlife. The implication here is that Killua, having increasingly grown insecure in his place by Gon's side but unable to voice this, knowing that Gon is hurtling down the path of no return, thinks back to their conversation under the stars where they both mutually wished to stay together and, because he believes that it is no longer possible for him to help Gon, has resolved to stay by his side in death, and after it.

...holy shit, kid.

[ID: Two screenshots from the 4th ending of the 2011 anime. In the first, Gon and Killua stand back to back as meteors fall around them. In the second, they stand facing away from the audience towards a body of water under a night sky filled with stars - Gon throws a stone, which flashes in the air like a shooting star. End ID.]

And of course, here's the shooting star again in the 2011 anime's Nagareboshi Kirari ending, as well as it being the subject of the song itself and rather explicitly referencing that wish to go on a journey together, to stay together, because... Madhouse hates us. I guess. :'(

What started off as a simple wish for a friend deepened into a wish to always stay by Gon's side. This is largely good at first! Killua is able to explore and experience genuine friendship, to get a taste for freedom, and use the power of his fervent wish to protect his dear friend in order to rid himself of Illumi's needle. However, the more Killua wants, the more he traps these wishes in monologues within his own head and does not voice them aloud. Part of it is that he already feels he's been given much more than he deserves - seeing himself as a creature of darkness and Gon as light - but a greater part of the issue here is not that Killua is afraid to wish for things, but that he is afraid wishing without "compensation" will inevitably lead to horrible repercussions - namely, losing who he loves.

In order to feel worthy of staying with Gon, of earning his friendship, Killua works hard to help Gon achieve his goals, taking on the role of wish grantor, growing to do practically anything needed to support him for seemingly nothing in return - but that's not 100% true. Killua wants at least some appreciation, whether he admits it or not - it's a security thing, and it also clearly makes him happy, even if he's not great at accepting it. He insists in Chimera Ant arc that friends don't need to thank friends, but this declaration always read as very sudden to me or like a rationalization, and it's relevant to remember that this is at the peak of Gon isolating himself and self-destructing before his eyes, and Killua's own insecurity regarding his importance to him.

Killua might not mind doing things without thanks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like to hear that Gon appreciates him. He clearly does appreciate verbal confirmation of their bond! We know this.

[ID: Two screenshots from the 2011 anime. The first is from episode 61. Killua smiles down at the ground with his hands in his pockets, the colours having gone soft and bright. The second is from episode 70 during the dodgeball match. Gon smiles determinedly in the foreground as Killua looks shocked next to him. End ID.]

Keeping all this in mind, Killua's story, or at least this part of it, couldn't have concluded in a better way than his rescue of Alluka, the wish grantor.

Now, I could probably write an entire other analysis on Alluka and Nanika alone, but for the sake of not making this any longer than I already have, I'm going to go through only a few points. Alluka is incomprehensible to her family because they make no attempt to understand her, with the exception of Killua. The only thing they do seem to understand, when explained to them, is the demands made after Nanika grants a wish - this, of course, fits neatly into their own predetermined views on "earning" and "punishment". However, beyond this, they make no attempt to understand her, and since her power is deemed dangerous and uncontrollable, she is locked away.

They are worried, first and foremost, that Alluka will bring harm to the family, and there's two ways in which this could be true:

As a function of failing to fulfill her requests, of course

Because she, just by existing, threatens the family's status quo

I stated at the beginning that Killua's desires do not align with those of the family business, and he's always apparently been more open to understanding others - he asks Alluka and Nanika questions to understand them, and treats them with respect, while his family are more so focused on subjugating anything that might be a threat. This is what Illumi tried to drill into Killua after all; never fight a superior opponent - everything is about assessments of relative strength, which leaves no room for open-mindedness or getting to know people.

Faced with a daughter who is clearly incomprehensibly powerful, and a son, the would-be inheritor of the family trade, who is showing a disturbing amount of willingness to befriend instead of retreat from her, the family made the decision to excise Alluka not just from where she could "harm" the family power-wise, but also likely to secure their control over Killua, who they then set about practically programming to not have any more wishes for himself, or at least to not be able to vocalize them without fear of loss or retribution.

The family's nickname for Killua is "Kil" or "Killu", which is deeply fascinating to me as a reader - nicknames are expressions of endearment, typically, and I actually don't doubt that here. Killua's family does love him, but their love comes with conditions. He must be molded into the perfect son, and every part of him that doesn't fit must be excised.

So: Killua's memories of Alluka are suppressed with the needle, and she is further cut from his life by dropping the "a" from his name (the Zoldyck children are named like a game of shiratori - Illumi -> Milluki -> Killua -> Alluka -> Kalluto). The nickname is also like a command or order "to kill", which is of course what they want him to do.

Saving Gon through saving Alluka and Nanika forces Killua to have to face down the last and hardest of Illumi's manipulations to shake, and that's the notion that a wish, that kindness and friendship and love, cannot be unconditional without severe repercussions - where the people he cares about get hurt because of him, something he cannot envision being forgiven for.

It's a little sad to me that after spending most of the series struggling against his family's teachings that they didn't lead to Killua betraying Gon at all, as he'd feared... but to him betraying Nanika, by sending her away.

Here is this little girl with a bloodstained past, incredibly powerful and dangerous and capable of amazing feats, treated as some evil thing by those who fear her. But she is kind at heart. Her true strength lies in healing, not killing. And she only takes commands from Killua.

Illumi thinks this is because Killua is the only one with control over her. Killua believes this is because she wants praise. They're both partially correct, but this is not the full reason Nanika does what Killua asks of her.

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 146 of the 2011 anime. In the first, Nanika smiles and says "I love Killua." In the second, Killua looks at her, stricken. End ID.]

Nanika loves him. Everyone has been trying to figure out all these complicated rules and conditions on her wish granting and why Killua is the one exception, but the answer is exceedingly simple. She loves him, and wants to do nice things for him so he can have his wishes granted. It's the only way she knows to get the love that she wants in turn.

Just like her brother, Nanika makes herself useful to earn love and appreciation from someone who accepted her when no one else did.

Even though he knows Nanika just wants to help, he still sees her presence as a danger to the person he sees as pure and innocent who must be protected. He sends her away because her "nature" is to be a threat to Alluka's safety, even if she doesn't intend to be. Killua's fear of Illumi and repercussions causes him to make a horrible mistake.

And Alluka tears into him for it.

[ID: A set of panels from HxH chapter 336. A furious Alluka glares and asks Killua if he made Nanika cry. When Killua stutters, she demands he apologize to her. End ID.]

You tell him, girl.

Oh hey, this looks a little familiar, huh?

"Apologize to Killua!" says Gon to Illumi after Illumi sends Killua away.

Nanika should not be the one punished for the actions of those trying to control her. She certainly shouldn't be forced to leave those she loves, or have to earn love from them.

And neither should Killua.

[ID: Three panels from HxH chapter 336. Alluka yells, tears in her eyes, "If you're going to protect me... you have to protect Nanika too!!" Killua looks shocked, then his eyes widen. End ID.]

It's interesting to me that this is the line that snaps Killua out of his fear enough for him to properly speak with Nanika and apologize. One party cannot receive all the protection, nor can the other only give and give limitlessly.

Killua makes it clear to Nanika when speaking with her that he will protect her, and that she doesn't need to earn affection from people by granting their wishes. He promises they will both be there for each other - Killua will praise her whenever she wants, and not just when she does something for him, but he also doesn't refuse Nanika's desire to grant his wishes. It's mutual, not conditional.

And on the heels of this "betrayal", Killua asks for what he never thought he could receive - forgiveness. And even though Nanika is clearly still very upset...

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 146. In the first, Nanika and Killua face each other, both of them teary. Nanika says "Kay." In the second, he has pulled her into a hug. Nanika is teary, her fingers gripping Killua's back tightly. End ID.]

...she doesn't even have to think about it.

I do think Killua still has a ways to go, but he is in a position right now to learn from his relationship with his sisters about balance - that love is not just selfless devotion, but also allowing those who love you to help you and make you happy too. I think that's what unconditional love is, in a way - supporting and working together with the people you love to make each other's wishes come true.

[blackkatdraws2]

[Original Characters] One of the Tower Residents (who is usually very stoic) is acting strange. Did the Missiontakers trigger something? (-or is this an unscripted scene?)

[More Info under Read More.]

These two are fan-OCs for a webnovel titled [Being an Extra Actor in an Escape Game]

Quick premise for the novel: There was an apocalypse that trapped the whole world in a game-like tower. Missiontakers need to go into a Tower Resident's Nightmares and solve them in order to progress higher up the tower [and maybe escape.] What the Missiontakers didn't know was that the Tower Residents are actually also real people just like them, but they're more limited in what they're allowed to do because the tower forces them to become Actors and pretend like they're NPCs.

The older man is called Kim Seung-Jun.

He's a Tower Resident that's trapped on the higher levels of the tower.

He's never acted out any major roles for a Nightmare and is always in the background.

Even among the other Tower Residents, he's a hard man to talk to, only voicing a curt reply that doesn't leave any openings to continue the conversation.

The other man is called Nick Fuentes

He's a semi-well known Missiontaker that wants to climb all the way up the tower to find the escape.

He's usually the helper of the group and he's good at being flexible with adapting and making quick decisions in tough situations.

Gets attached to people quickly if they're nice to him.

Basic OCs premise: Nick Fuentes sees the usually stoic Kim Seung-Jun acting unlike his character. He starts to get more curious about the older man, and their slow development but eventual close relationship made him unravel a different point of view about truth of the Tower and everyone who was trapped in it.

-------------✦

KOREAN PEOPLE, please tell me in the reblogs and comments if I got the old man's name right!! I'll change it into something more appropriate for his character and age if it sounds silly. I'm a huge fan of Asian webnovels, the things I always consume are Chinese/Korean webnovels that I find in illegally English translated websites HAHAHA. It affected the way I named my characters because Chinese/Korean names are the only thing I'm constantly being exposed to. [But I have no idea if these names are actually correct or not. Sorry!]

Oh MAN, I have not re-visited this novel in YEARS. Literally one of my biggest worldbuilding inspirations [not to mention it has all my favorite tropes in it] and I will continue loving it forever.

I found the novel by pure chance. At the time, there was only one website that translated it into English. I thought the premise was interesting and decided to give it a try, thinking it was just another one of those garbage junk food novels that I'd drop half-way, but no, it was actually really good.

I'm not gonna spoil anything about the novel itself lololol I'm only gonna be working on my OCs.

To be honest, I'm probably gonna make an original world and story for them soon. I like this idea too much, I'll make it mine someday. For now though, I will have a minor hyperfixation.

Go check the novel out, by the way!! It's great.

[dalekofchaos]

Not interested in LIS:Double Exposure

Okay I saw the Double Exposure trailer and I am not playing it.

Multiple reasons.

The Deck Nine IGN article. I will not support a developer that knowingly protected a bigoted groomer and allowed a Nazi to sneak in White Supremacist signs in the game.

Max learned nothing about the first game. Nevermind there is no Chloe, Warren or anyone from Arcadia insight(we'll get to that) Max apparently formed another codependent relationship that she couldn't let go to the point where she's fucking up reality by creating yet another parallel world. Either Deck Nine is entirely unoriginal or Max didn't learn a damned thing

That is not Max. If your defense is "she grew up" I got news for you. I've looked the same for nearly a decade. I've had friends while changing their aesthetic, they look the same. you don’t look like an entirely new person when you age, the new model looks nothing like max there’s barely even resemblance. Also I know, we all change our style as we get older, but Max's style was unique and it made Max Caulfield who she is. It didn't need to change. Deck Nine just Stephified Max. Was it really that hard to give Max bangs? Not just that. No freckles, eyes and eyebrows look completely different. This is not Max Caulfield.

4. No one from Arcadia Bay returned. It's pretty obvious Deck Nine is either keeping Chloe's fate a secret, but it's also clear they are trying to skirt around the issue of the endings without pissing everyone off. Feels like a copout to whatever ending you chose to give a new cast of characters. For the fans who wanted more time to play as Max and Chloe, I feel bad for you, I especially wanted to see Chloe again. So what the fuck was this supposed to be for then?

Though another point; why the hell are we supposed to be okay with the fact that Max is using her power again to save this brand new character we have zero previous connection to? Especially if the game’s gonna try to straddle both endings to LiS 1; seems very insulting to have Max be okay with doing it for a character we have no previous attachment to, but she’s left her girlfriend to die alone, thinking nobody loved her?

Also you had the perfect chance to make a fucking game that has Max save Rachel. I know I just did a tangent about Max not learning anything, but if you were just going to have Max use her powers again, why the fuck didn't you do it to save Rachel from a fate she never deserved? Godfucking forbid you give attention to Warren, Kate or Victoria. I just wanted to see these characters get some screen time, make cameos or give us SOME hint to what they are up to after the events of the first game. But no, we can't have that. We can't be given anything of substance for Warren, Kate or Victoria. Can't learn anything about their fates in the LIS 2 Save Arcadia Bay ending, can't find out Warren or Kate survived the storm in Wavelengths via talking to Steph during the storm anniversary and we can't see them again in DE. I know it's just a teaser, but seriously why even do a new Max game if we don't even get cameos from these characters? Knowing how Deck Nine is, they are just gonna find a way to demonize Warren to paint him like Eliot, regress Victoria's character and not even give Kate the time of day to mention. Jesus fucking christ, I just wanted to see Max and Warren Go Ape, fun Max and Victoria photodates and to see Max and Kate have one fucking Tea date. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR???

5. Deck Nine are literally just swiping DontNod’s characters for the purposes of chasing that brand recognition. It's just copy pasting lighting in a bottle and milking a cow out of this franchise. BTS was remotely successful because of Chloe and Rachel's relationship. True Colors is fun at first, but realize it's just a hollow imitation of the first game. DONTNOD's story was original, fun and unique. I had problems with it but it was still THEIR story on their terms and not developed from a place of corporate cynicism asking for preorders ASAP that come bundled with a box of tissues and bobbleheads of dead teenagers. Read recent interviews from DONTNOD and you can TELL they got burned by SquareEnix over this. I hope they can channel that into something with Bloom and Rage because I’d love to see them recapture that magic again.

I had fears of what would happen if Deck Nine ever got their hands on Max. And looks like I was right to be worried.

To be clear, I think making stories with someone else’s character is great and cool and it’s literally what fanfiction is and technically, MUCH of mass media now IS “fanfiction”. The difference here is DONTNOD deliberately wanted LIS 1 canon left alone, near as I can tell. But no, Square Enix wanted a franchise and Deck Nine was more than happy to milk the cow for all it was worth and Deck Nine has shown they don't understand DONTNOD's characters

The game looks like it's repeating everything about the first game, but none of the charm that made it great. It's beat for beat the same fucking game. Dead friend, murder mystery, but without the ambiance, charm or magic that made the first game good. Deck Nine is completely unoriginal, DE is a soulless cashgrab and their hyperrealism killed the entire essence of the game and its characters.

It's quite literally a copy and paste of True Colors, but with Max.

And when we just look at this. Double Exposure is just soulless. It's style over substance and I knew. I just KNEW that if Deck Nine got their hands on Max it would be half-assed and soulless shit like this. They dared to slap Max's name on a Steph lookalike and then just do True Colors again, but more hollow.

There's something just so disappointing about the change in art style over the years. The art direction in the first game was charming and now it just feels kinda soulless. The awkward chunkyness of the models really made it stand out but now it feels way too smooth

life is strange going from one studios passion project to another’s cashgrab is one of the biggest modern tragedies in the world deck nine they could never make me like you. All the charm of the franchise from the cartoonish artstyle to the episodical releases has been completely stripped away it’s just very disappointing to see.

This meme is literally Double Exposure.