#because will gave 0 hints

[gayofthefae]

Season 2 Mike: desperately protects and loves Will, sleeps at his house, sleeps at his doctor's office, and tells him he's the best thing to ever happen to him. Will:🧍

Season 3 Mike: focuses on someone else. Will: Wait where did you go I liked us what happened :'(

Season 4 Mike: ignores Will. Will: ignores Mike for ignoring him. Mike: Why are you ignoring me????? That's really mean you know :(((( You ruined my day :(((((((

These fuckers are perfect for each other are you kidding me. (We're excusing them on account of they're 14 and also improving anyways)

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 BLIND TO THE PURPOSE OF THE BRUTE DIVINE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're finally in a position to make your first, and hopefully final, move, but the guild isn't your only enemy that's actively working against you. you were foolish to think things would be so easy.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy friday lil guys, i struggled with this chapter unfortunately and i'm not sure if i'm happy with the results </3 hopefully you guys will enjoy it more than i did hahah. comments & reblogs appreciated

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. suggestive language. reader is a bit of a cunt to fitzgerald & takes advantage of his love for zelda. she also takes advantage of zelda's fragile state to manipulate her. repin's ability (memory manipulation) is now going to be heavily in play for the rest of the series so keep that in mind. mentions of gore (blame klaus).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

The human mind is terribly fragile, but some are more so than others.

You don’t even need to use your ability on Zelda Fitzgerald to make her crack.

One conversation to plant the seeds of trust.

Three conversations to make her believe you’re a friend of her husband.

Five conversations to convince her that Fyodor Dostoevsky was the one who had her kidnapped from her home in Manhattan, and that you, as a favor to Fitzgerald, were the one who had her rescued. 

In the seventh conversation, you hinted at knowing something about her daughter before you left for a meeting with the other executives. You let her stew on it for a few hours before returning. By the time you came back, she’d worked herself up into a mess. 

In that eighth conversation, you acted apologetic, pretended that you’d misspoke, you backpedaled and bit your tongue. You made it seem like you were reluctant to speak, like you didn’t want to betray Fitzgerald’s trust. She begged you for hours to just tell her what you meant; you refused and left.

You came back three hours after that, and you put up a nice facade of guilt when you did. You told Zelda that you didn’t like lying to her, that her husband is a dear business partner of yours and you’ve come to think of his family like your own just from how much you hear about them through him. You told her that this wasn’t your secret to share, but she begged and pleaded, and you still made sure you came across as reluctant, but this time you gave in and told her.

In that ninth conversation, you told Zelda Fitzgerald that her daughter was still alive and her husband was keeping her away, because the last time Zelda spoke to her daughter, they’d gotten into an argument that drove Frances away. Her husband thought it would be easier for Zelda to think she was dead, because for all intents and purposes, Zelda was dead to Frances. You told her that you got your information through Nabokov, because Frances was living in Russia now under a new name with Dostoevsky’s help.

She believed you.

It took four days.

You don’t really have anything against Dostoevsky. You’ve met him a handful of times during events and he was pleasant enough, but his rats have been seen a bit too frequently in Port Mafia territory and since he and Tolstoy are both Russian, it’s easier for you to help Zelda confuse them. You figure this will be enough of a warning for him to leave Yokohama. If not, it’s just another issue for you to tackle later.

Nabokov, on the other hand—he pissed you off you. You’ve never thought highly of the man, even when you visited him in Saint Petersburg, you thought he was quite despicable, and the more you heard from Klaus about the things that happened in the fighting rings, the more your distaste grew.

Now, he backed out of a critical transaction with the Port Mafia which fucked over one of Piano Man’s deals with the Family in Rome and one of Ace’s casinos, so he’s turned just about the whole round table of executives against him and you think this is a quick way of getting even with him. He would be quite unhappy once Francis Fitzgerald turned all of the resources of the Guild onto him in retaliation for spreading lies about his daughter. The man's one weakness has always been his family, he wouldn't think twice once given a name and reason.

All of this is the reason why you prefer to work from behind the scenes. There are many pros, of course, to being in an organization like the Guild where each executive member is an influential, internationally known public figure, but there’s one big con that you just can’t get over: the lack of privacy. 

The Fitzgerald family has been headline bait for all of the world’s most popular tabloids for years, and when his daughter passed away five years ago, you made sure to follow each and every story. You figured one day that the Port Mafia would end up in conflict with the Guild—Fitzgerald’s reach has always been endless, Yokohama was one of the few places out of it, and you knew one day he would move to gain a foothold here and you didn’t want to be scrambling for information about the man once it happened.

Chuuya always rolled his eyes at you when he found you surfing the tabloids, but look how handy it is now. There’d been several popular theories circulating when Frances Fitzgerald was killed in a car accident. Some people thought it was an assassination—the tabloids speculated that Fitzgerald was the intended target but his daughter got caught in the crossfires; the people that knew of the Guild’s ties with the underworld tended to think that his daughter was the intended target as a means to try to break Fitzgerald.

You didn’t buy either of those theories.

You’ve witnessed many assassinations—assassinations gone wrong, assassinations gone right; assassination attempts on you and assassination attempts on enemies. You are very well versed in the art of assassination. You’ve plotted many of them yourself with Albatross and Iceman, and the ones you didn’t, you still oversaw.

You don’t think Frances Fitzgerald was assassinated, by accident or otherwise. 

No one bought into your theory when you tried to place bets on it with the Flags—not until one of the American tabloids released an insider scoop from a relative of Zelda Fitzgerald who claimed that the mother and daughter had gotten into a blow out fight the night she died in the car accident. 

You think that was the last bit of information you needed to confirm your theory: Frances Fitzgerald was not assassinated, she was a stupid and reckless teenager who was upset after a fight with her mother and drove too fast down a road that was too windy and ended up driving herself right off a cliff. It was a gamble to bring it up now to Zelda, because you couldn’t be entirely certain, of course, but it paid off. 

You’d been right—some type of argument had broken out between them the night of her daughter’s death, and Zelda has blamed herself for her death ever since. The woman, who’d been the face of American socialites for almost a decade, had all but retreated from the public’s eye after it happened. People whispered that her daughter’s death broke her mind, and you think that they were right—this woman is hardly a shell. You almost feel bad for what you’re doing to her.

Almost.

Unfortunately for Zelda, she’s a fair trade in Fitzgerald’s eyes, and until Dazai is back to you, she will be treated in the same way you assume Fitzgerald is treating his guest. He’s lucky that you have a high enough opinion of him to believe that he wouldn’t stoop to physical torture; he’s likely just trying to turn Dazai against you in the same way you have with Zelda, but Dazai will see through his manipulations.

He will.

He will.

He has to.

Your eyes slide shut as you fist one of Dazai’s sweaters—a cashmere one you’d bought for him to wear when you take him to nice restaurants, he prefers them to button ups. It still smells like him. He wore it when you took him to a hibachi restaurant in Nishi-ku a few days before the argument the two of you had that led to all of this and you haven’t had the chance to do laundry with everything going on.

You know that you don’t have time for this—there are more things you have to do to prepare Tolstoy’s subordinate, Ilya Repin, for what you’ll need him to do. You haven’t even met the man yet; Tolstoy is embarrassed over it, he keeps apologizing and saying that Repin is fickle when he’s in the middle of projects, but you’re not exactly in a position to make demands when they’re doing you a favor. 

“Should you be laying around right now?” a familiar voice hums from the entrance to your bedroom. Your gaze flickers up to see Chuuya's concerned face staring down at you, head tilted to the side. “You look like shit, y’know?” 

Your lashes lower as you look away. “I didn’t even hear you come up,” you say quietly. “Shouldn’t you be going to the meeting with the Family envoys with Piano Man?”

You’re the one that usually handles negotiations with the Family, but Piano Man brushed you off when you said you would go. Told you to focus on getting things settled here with the Guild. Told you to get Dazai back. You almost wish he would’ve let you go so you could busy yourself with something other than torturing yourself with reminders of Dazai.

Chuuya exhales as he tosses his hat onto your dresser before sitting down on the bed next to you. You almost want to turn away from him, but he doesn’t let you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and drags you a little closer to him, and your eyes slide shut as you sink into him, hiding the way your vision blurs against his shoulder. Your breath shudders when you feel his hand running up and down your back, slow and soothing—Chuuya is always warm, but somehow, even with his arm wrapped around you and your body curled up against his, you still feel cold.

“Piano Man’s fine,” Chuuya murmurs. “He and Albatross are handling it. Wanted to come check on you.”

Ordinarily, you would make a snippy comment about him being sappy and he would get mad, smacking you over the head with a pillow. This time, you only let out a shaky breath and a noise of acknowledgement that’s far too weak, and evidently, concerning considering how Chuuya’s hand tenses on your back.

“Why are you here, Chuuya?” you ask tiredly, voice a bit raspy, before he can say anything. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“Never that mad at you,” he says quietly. “Not enough to leave you alone. Especially right now.”

The next breath you take in is wet and ragged, the tears that mist your eyes threaten to spill over. You’ve been on the edge of collapse for over a week now and every time you find yourself alone, you think it’s finally going to happen, but for better or for worse, someone shows up and you have to pull yourself together. But now… Chuuya’s arms are so familiar, too comforting—living in a world like you are, casual comfort is a rare delicacy, one that you can rarely allow yourself to indulge in.

“I’ve got you,” Chuuya whispers. His arms tighten around you and he pulls you more firmly onto his chest, shifting so you could wrap your arms around his waist, your fingers digging into his gray waistcoat. Oh, you realize, desperately trying to bite back a sob bubbling in the back of your throat, it’s happening. “We’ll get him back.”

“I’m tired, Chuuya,” you say, the words wobbly as you fight off tears. Your breath hitches when his hand slides against your shoulder blades gently. “I’m so tired. I don’t know how you did it.”

Your words don’t register until you feel Chuuya pause in the absent strokes of your back.You look up at him, about to speak again to change the subject because you hadn’t meant to bring up what happened two years ago, but he answers before you can.

“I didn’t,” he says with a wry smile. “I destroyed a ward and shut down. You handled it, remember?”

 And you failed, you finish, but Chuuya can certainly hear the thoughts running through your head from how his arm tightens around you. He pushes himself up into a sitting position and shifts you to sit upright in the bed. You sigh when he reaches out to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“What happened back then, it wasn’t your fault. That shit was out of your control, you know that. Don’t let it start getting in your head now,” Chuuya tells you firmly. “You didn’t fail back then, you’re not going to fail now. Yeah?” 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel Chuuya wiping the tears away. You avert your gaze and whisper, “I miss him, Chuuya. You were right. I never should have-”

You never should’ve let this happen. You knew from the beginning that you couldn’t let this go far, but you did. And even then, Chuuya warned you. He told you what would happen if you continued this, but you did.

Chuuya stares at you for a moment with an indecipherable expression before nodding to himself, pushing himself to his feet. 

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go force that fuckin’ Russian to talk to us. I’m done waiting around for him to finish his shitty project.”

—

It is not Twain, James or Fitzgerald who walks through the door to Dazai’s prison cell of a room days after your alleged release from prison. It’s a girl who seems to be a little younger than him—she wears a maid’s dress and has long crimson hair tied into two thick braids.  

A girl who probably should not be there considering she looks shifty-eyed and nervous. Plus, Fitzgerald has not hid that he’s been making an effort to ensure that nobody else knows about Dazai’s presence here—he’s kept him isolated, and Dazai never hears anything going on outside of his room, so he assumes he’s purposely being secluded from the rest of the Guild for whatever reason. Probably has to do with the reason behind Fitzgerald keeping his knowledge of your ability on the low—he doesn’t trust that people aren’t listening and doesn’t want this information to get out to anyone.

So this girl is likely not supposed to be here, but Dazai can’t even bring himself to be curious as to why she is here, because he’s tired.

He is so tired. 

His gaze is listless as he tracks the girl. She acts like she’s the cornered animal as if she wasn’t the one who willingly came into his room. She paces to the corner of the room furthest from him and presses herself into it, eyes narrowed on him, studying him like he’s some sort of specimen. 

She’s his first visitor in eight hours. Dazai assumes that means it’s around morning. He doesn’t know exactly what time it is—there’s no windows in the room he’s been staying in, so he has no way to gauge the time of day, and everything has just been blending together. He tried to keep track of when they would bring him food to have some sense of the day and time, but he realized quickly that they were bringing it at uneven intervals so he couldn’t figure it out. 

He thinks it must be some kind of torture tactic—making the days seem impossibly long so that it feels like he’s been here even longer than he has. It’s working to some extent because it is hard for him to tell how long he’s actually been here. Realistically, he knows it can’t be longer than two weeks, but it feels like it’s been three or four. 

“You don’t look special,” the girl finally says, her tone slightly accusatory. Dazai’s eye twitches, he’s been reminded quite frequently by Twain that he’s nothing special and it’s exactly why you aren’t coming for him, and he doesn’t need to hear it from anyone else. “Francis has never taken a foreign prisoner and not consulted the rest of the Board. They’re not happy.”

“Does it look like I care?” Dazai asks irritably, rolling his eyes. He should probably try to get information out of this girl, but he has no patience for it.

The girl gives him a scowl in return, but her expression quickly returns to a more contemplative one. “I’m just curious. What organization are you affiliated with? Why didn’t he tell us what’s going on?”

Dazai can’t help the snide comment that spills from his lips. “Us?” he mocks, looking pointedly at the maid’s dress she wore. “I don’t think you’re a member of the Guild’s Board… Seems more like house-keeping.”

Her face flushes as red as her hair, eyes wild and angry, but more than that ashamed. Clearly, Dazai hit a sore spot and he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty for the way the girl gets embarrassed over it. Her lashes flutter as she looks away, not speaking for a moment.

“I was,” she finally says, voice strained, cracking over the word ‘was’. “I was, and I would’ve been consulted with the rest of them at the time, but I wasn’t. I want to know why, who are you?”

Dazai’s lips curl up into a taunting smile. “None of your business,” he sings, leaning back against the wall and raising his eyebrows at the girl when she nearly snarls at him in response. “Who are you?”

“Lucy,” she spits. “There. I told you who I am, tell me who you are.”

“Nope,” Dazai says with a grin. “Why would I tell you that? I didn’t promise to tell you who I was if you told me.” 

“You-” Lucy raises her voice, furious, but then cuts herself off, looking nervously at the door. She gives him a sharp look and then continues just as angrily, but more quietly, “Tell me who you are. Why didn’t Francis tell us about you?”

Dazai doesn’t respond. He thinks Fitzgerald has the right idea. The less people who know about him, the better, because if it does get out who he is to you, it’ll just give more of your enemies ammunition against you. Dazai’s done enough damage by now, he may as well mitigate as much as he can.

“You’re with the Port Mafia, aren’t you?” Lucy suddenly demands, and Dazai looks at her quickly, wondering how she managed to figure that out. She looks entirely too smug as she lifts her chin. “It explains the sudden pressure they’ve been putting on us. They blew up the S.S. Zelda a couple days ago, intercepted some of the supplies that we were sending out to our people back home, and slaughtered a whole regiment of Margaret and Nathaniel’s men. From what I heard from Mark, they’ve been nonstop for almost two weeks.You must be the reason why. Am I right?” 

“None of your business,” Dazai replies again, but this time, his chest feels a bit lighter. 

He makes sure not to let the sudden relief cross over his face, but Twain, James and Fitzgerald have made sure to leave him with no information on what’s going on in the outside world. Especially any information regarding you. But now he knows. He knows that you’re out there still fighting for him, even if you haven’t been able to get him back yet, you’ve been fighting for him—you’ve been taking out the Guild’s bases, you’ve been isolating them from their allies, you’ve been backing them into a corner. 

Suddenly, the past two weeks had become entirely more bearable. The heaviness that had been weighing on him wasn’t as oppressive anymore and the nagging doubt that had been clouding his brain was all but gone.

He knew you hadn’t forgotten about him—in his heart, he knew it, but getting verbal confirmation of it was much needed. 

“Oh, come on,” Lucy snaps. “I just-just tell me something. Tell me something I can bring back to Francis, anything, I just-

Dazai’s gaze flickers up curiously, watching as Lucy straightens, inhaling sharply as she tries to hide the tears of frustration that suddenly clouded her eyes. Her hands are balled into fists at her side, she gnaws at her trembling bottom lip as she forces herself to settle down enough to speak without her voice wavering.

‘I was,’ he remembers her saying, and realizes instantly why she came down here.

“You want something to bring back to Fitzgerald so you can get yourself out of the doghouse,” he drawls, eyes flicking over her. Her face flushes red, lips parting to protest Dazai’s words but nothing escapes them. “You want to know my opinion?” 

“I want information,” Lucy says. “I don’t care about your opinion.”

“I think that’s pathetic,” he shrugs, ignoring her. Lucy’s lips part in disbelief, but Dazai continues before she can say anything. “It is. You’re sneaking down here to beg me for information that you can bring back up to your boss because he demoted you… for what, exactly? Didn’t bring him the right food?”

Lucy swallows thickly, unable to meet his eyes. “I lost a fight,” she whispers. “I lost a fight to one of your people, and I lost everything. I worked so hard to get where I was. So hard. Harder than you could ever understand and-”

“I don’t care,” Dazai says, turning away from her. “If you want my opinion, if you got demoted to being a housekeeper because you lost one fight, you have a shitty boss and should probably find somewhere else to work instead of begging for scraps just to be treated like shit.”

Dazai doesn’t say anything else after that, and makes a show of not looking at her to make sure she knows the conversation is over. Luckily, she gives him no grief over it—in an instant, he hears the door slamming as she storms out of his room and Dazai lets out a soft sigh as he rests his head against the wall. Tired, lonely, and missing you so badly that it almost makes him ache.

Don’t keep me waiting too much longer.

—

You are irritated.

You’ve been waiting in one of the larger rooms in the Mafia headquarters for twenty minutes now—the smell of paint is giving you a headache and the sheer insult happening before your eyes is nearly enough to send you over the edge. Ilya Repin has the audacity to keep his back turned to both you and Chuuya even when Tolstoy introduces you to him. He sits on his stool and continues to paint his canvas, ignoring the two of you quite blissfully: he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t greet you, doesn’t acknowledge you. 

Tolstoy is becoming increasingly more embarrassed if his red ears and apologetic looks have anything to say about it. Unfortunately, you’re not sure if any number of apologies will save him from Chuuya’s righteous wrath at this point, because if you are irritated then he is downright murderous. 

You watch your fellow executive from the corner of your eye as his eye twitches and his lip curls up. The thin thread of control he has snaps as his tongue kisses the back of his teeth and he starts to storm forward. You stop him quickly, grabbing his wrist and giving him a sharp look.

“He-” Chuuya begins to hiss at you, but you only raise your hand to quiet him down and move forward yourself.

You don’t know if you’re making a mistake by forcing Repin’s hand before he’s ready to help, but you do know that you’re tired and you need Dazai back desperately. It’s been over a week now and if Fitzgerald has been half as aggressive with him as you have been with Zelda, then you know that he’s been playing mind games with Dazai. And Dazai is smart, yes, but how long can someone hold out when given no hope or reason to?

It takes ten long strides for you to cross the room, placing yourself between Repin and the canvas he’s working on. The man pauses, paint brush inches from your cheek, and then looks down at you with narrowed eyes.

“You’re in my way,” he notes astutely.

“And you are in mine,” you counter with a thin smile. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

Ilya Repin is not what you expected. From how Tolstoy described him, you expected an old stubborn coot who had one foot in the grave and acted like each day was his last on earth. Instead, you’re met with a man who can’t be much older than you—with tousled brown hair and light blue eyes, you’d think he was pretty if he wasn’t so irritating. 

He looks down at you with a pinched expression, like he’s considering painting right over your face, but after what feels like an eternity, he lets out a dramatic sigh and glares at Tolstoy over his shoulder.

“I told you not to let anyone bother me until I was done,” he complains, rolling his eyes. You watch as Chuuya’s eyes bulge at the way Repin dismisses you, a familiar red glow flickering around his fists, but Tolstoy responds to Repin before the artist can find himself splattered on his own painting.

“Ilya.” Tolstoy spits out something in such rapid-fire Russian that even you can’t catch what he said. Whatever it is, it makes Repin roll his eyes again before turning to you with a smile that’s too sweet for comfort.

“Her Highness finally decides to grace me with her presence. Honestly, I thought you’d be down here days ago—you’re awfully patient for someone whose lover’s life is on the line… Unless, you don’t actually love him? But then why go through all of this trouble?” Repin hums, leaning forward so close that it has you taking a step back, forgetting that his painting is behind you. His hand darts out to curl around the back of your neck, stopping you from hitting the wet paint while at the same time forcing you even closer to him. He looks down at you through his lashes, nose nearly brushing yours as he says, “Don’t mess up my painting.”

You click your tongue and step away from him, careful not to let it show just how disconcerted you are by his casual disrespect. Chuuya looks like he’s on the verge of bringing the whole building down, Tolstoy has left a wide berth between the two of them as the gravity manipulator becomes more and more vexed by his subordinate. You give him a look to tell him that it’s fine, but it doesn’t seem to ease him in the slightest.

“You’re lucky that you’re Leo’s cousin,” you finally say, giving Repin an equally saccharine smile as you stand a few feet away from him. He finally spins in his stool to turn his back to his painting and his attention onto you, a curious expression on his face as he looks down at you. “I’ve had people’s tongues taken for less.”

“What a waste that would be, my tongue could be used for things much more pleasurable than glossectomy,” Repin replies easily, tone laced with innuendo as his lips curl up into an amused smirk. 

Unbothered, you amend your statement. “Your hands, then—a fitting punishment for a painter, I think.”

Unfortunately, Repin is equally unphased, holding his hands out as his smile widens. “But then of what use would I be to you? I thought you needed my ability,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows, silently beckoning him to explain what exactly his ability is because Tolstoy thought it would be better coming from the ability user himself. The man sighs and hops off of his stool, speaking as he starts to put away his painting equipment.

“Essentially, I can take memories from people and store them in my paintings,” Repin explains, walking over to a covered painting and pulling the cloth off of it, revealing a scene of a midnight rendezvous between two lovers. “This is a favor I did for an acquaintance. He was cheating on his wife, his wife figured it out and was going to grill him, he asked me to remove his memories of his mistress so his wife didn’t realize he was lying. I don’t really like him, so I keep the painting on me and light the bottom on fire whenever he irritates me.”

“What does that do?” Chuuya asks, side-eyeing the painting before turning his attention to Repin distrustfully.

Repin gives him a once over before looking back at you pointedly. You don’t have to look at Chuuya to know that he must be livid, so you give Repin an equally pointed look and wait for him to answer Chuuya’s question.

Repin sighs. “Burning the painting returns the memories to whoever they’d been taken from, so whenever I light the bottom on fire. He starts to get that looming feeling that he’s forgotten something important. He’s tortured with that feeling of something being on the tip of your tongue but unable to fully remember it. He calls me all wound up about it whenever I do… I think I might be his only friend, which is kind of sad considering I can hardly stand the sight of him…”

He’s rambling more to himself now than to you, frowning as he taps the tip of one of his paint brushes to his chin. You press your lips together as you think—removal is good, you need to have Fitzgerald’s memories of Dazai gone, along with any other of his subordinates that might’ve seen or met him.

But you need more than removal.

“What about implanting memories?” you ask, interrupting his stream of babbles. He casts you a curious look. “You can remove, but can you implant new ones to take the place of old ones?”

He studied you now, an intrigued expression on his face as if he’s seeing you in a new light. “I’ve done it once,” he says after a few moments. “It’s a far more… demanding process.”

“How so?”

“I need to have a painting ready for it,” he says. “More than that, I need a scene. A story. Every painting has a story—that’s the theory my ability is built on. Memories are stories that can be captured in paintings. I need to have the same depth of detail that a memory would have to make a painting that can be implanted as one. It’s much harder than you’d think. One lack of detail, one inconsistency, it could throw everything off, and once someone becomes suspicious that an implanted memory is a false one, it unravels. I burn the paintings here to return stolen memories; they, figuratively, burn the implanted memories in their mind once they start getting suspicious.”

Not quite as reliable as you’d hope, but you can make it work. You have to make it work. You’re running out of time, each day that passes—each hour that passes… You need to make your move, and you need to do it as soon as possible.

“If I can give you a detailed story, how long would it take you to create a painting that can be implanted as a memory?” you question.

Repin smiles, tilting his head to the side. “With the right muse? A couple of hours,” he murmurs.

Finally, you think. The relief that hits you is almost debilitating; you let out a sigh as you nod, giving Chuuya a long look. For the first time since your arrest, you feel an inkling of hope; you see the first rays of the sun breaking over the horizon, shattering the long night that’s been hanging over you.

The end is in sight. You’ll have Dazai back before nightfall. 

“Good,” you say. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Have everything ready to start.”

You don’t bother to listen to the response, turning on your heel to leave the room. You have one last thing to take care of with Zelda, and then, you can sit down with Repin to finish up the final preparations. It’s almost vindicating when you pull out your phone to send a location and time to Fitzgerald.

Just a little longer. I’m almost there. 

—

Dazai is lounging in bed when the door opens again. 

“I was sleeping,” Dazai says irritably. He wasn’t sleeping, but they don’t need to know that. Twain and James are the ones unfortunately gracing him with their presence, which is odd considering they’ve never shown up at the same before. “What?”

“Up,” Twain says, clapping his hands together twice as he ushers Dazai out of bed. “C’mon, kid. Francis is waiting. Let’s go.”

Dazai scowls when Twain grabs his bicep to pull him off the bed, slapping away the other man’s hand. His skin crawls where his fingers had once been—Dazai has never enjoyed physical touch, not until he met you, but even then it’s limited to you and you alone.

He misses you.

A heavy air settles around him as he drags himself out of bed. He doesn’t know why he’s started to descend into such a depressive spiral since Lucy’s departure from the room, he thought he would be happy knowing that you haven’t forgotten about him, but he’s only become increasingly more despondent. 

His fingers feel numb and clunky as he pulls on a pair of shoes—you bought him them. You bought him everything he’s wearing right now, actually. Despite the fact that Fitzgerald has brought Dazai several new pairs of clothes to wear, he hasn’t changed out of the outfit he’d arrived in. He’s sure it smells terribly and he must look like a mess, but Dazai’s mind has always been cruel and now more than ever, it enjoys playing tricks on him.

He’s never slept well before. Usually he doesn’t sleep at all, but when he does, he’s plagued with nightmares. The past few days, weeks, however long he’s been here, it’s been no different. When he sleeps—which is frustratingly often because of the head injury he received the day they kidnapped him—he wakes from long, vivid nightmares of lives where he never met you. He wakes entirely convinced that the entire past few months with you was just an elaborate dream that his mind made up to torture him, that you don’t exist, that you’re just a figment of his imagination created to show him a life that he could’ve had if he were more normal.

It’s only the physical evidence of you that drags him out of a dangerous spiral—the clothes you bought him, the lingering scent of you on him, and the few marks that remain on his body from the night spent with you in the cabin. But your scent is fading and the marks are disappearing, so all he has is the clothes on his back to remind him that you’re real, you’re alive, you’ll come for him.

You’ll come for him. 

“Where are we going?” Dazai finally asks, finishing getting on his shoes, but he doesn’t budge as he stares at the two of them, waiting for a response. They don’t give him one. He wonders if the Guild is done with him, if they’re skipping over torture and going right to execution. “Hello? I asked a question.”

“I told ya,” Twain tells him, stepping out of the room and raising his eyebrows, urging him to move along. “To Francis.”

“But why?” Dazai presses. “Why didn’t he come here? Where are we going?”

Twain and James share a long look, like they don’t want to explain to Dazai where they’re going. And-

And Dazai doesn’t dare get his hopes up—he knows better—but it’s impossible to stop the way his body physically reacts to the realization he just came to. His throat swells and he works on over time trying to stop the way his heart suddenly starts racing. He can’t.

Twain would’ve eagerly told him if they were marching him off to be executed; he’s been gloating over the fact that you ‘left him to rot’ since you were released from prison. If this were the Guild getting rid of him, Twain would be just as vocal about that, but it’s not, so could it be…? 

He stares at the two members of the Guild. He wants to ask, but he doesn’t want to be disappointed, so he waits to see what they say.

It’s an eternity before Twain rolls his eyes and says, “Seems your girl didn’t forget about you. She called for a parley. We’re going out to meet her.”

Dazai lets out a wavering puff of air, one that he can’t bite back. The tension in his shoulders instantly dissipates, after what seems like weeks of darkness and despair, Dazai finally sees the light at the end of the tunnel.

“I told you,” he tells them, voice a bit more breathless than he meant for it to be. “I told you she’d come. Maybe you should’ve listened to me.”

Twain clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Get moving,” he snips, forcing Dazai out of the room and leading him down unfamiliar halls. Dazai is quick to map out the place, noting all of the twists and turns just in case he somehow ends back up here. He’ll get out on his own if he has to, he’s not spending another night in this place. “Don’t get your hopes up. I doubt she’ll be able to come to an agreement with Francis.”

Dazai is a bit too smug as he says, “If she reaches out to meet you, then it’s already over. She wouldn’t have reached out to meet you if she wasn’t sure things would land in her favor, otherwise she would’ve reached out days ago.”

It’s the truth—Dazai knows it. His faith in you wasn’t misplaced, never has been and never will be. You just needed time to make sure everything was in place because you didn’t want to find yourself on unequal grounds during the negotiation. He almost feels giddy as he follows Twain and James out of the building, walking in the direction of a long black car.

Their base is in one of the southern wards, he recognizes immediately. Sakae or Totsuka… maybe Kanazawa. It’s in a residential district, and there's a road sign to Kamakura, so he must be in Sakae or the southern part of Totsuka. His gaze flickers back over to the two escorting him, wondering why they wouldn’t have blindfolded him before leading him out of the building.

Maybe they think it doesn’t matter—they don’t intend on coming back to this base for whatever reason after their meeting with you, or maybe… Dazai’s gaze lingers on the side of Twain’s face, noting the way his jaw is tight and his eyes keep flickering around aimlessly. He looks over to James, seeing the larger man in a similar state.

“You’re nervous,” Dazai voices, still entirely too smug. When Twain doesn’t respond, only giving him a sharp side-eye, he realizes that his assumption was right, and it makes him even more amused. As he gets into the black car, he gives the man a simpering smile before saying, “Good, you should be.”

Fitzgerald is already in the car waiting for them. He’s so hyper-focused on his phone that he doesn’t even realize the three of them entered the car until Twain says something. Dazai should probably be paying attention to what they’re saying, but he finds himself dizzy over the thought of seeing you again. 

When the car starts moving, his heart starts racing. He doesn’t know where they’re meeting you, but it can’t possibly be more than a thirty minute drive and that means he’s thirty minutes from seeing you again after days—weeks, maybe—of isolation. He finds himself nervous, almost, because he doesn’t really know what to expect from you—are you mad at him for what happened? Do you still want to be with him? Dazai is unsure because he thinks that even if you did want nothing to do with him anymore, you’d still make sure to protect him if he got caught up in this.

He chews the inside of his cheek, doubt whittling away at his excitement; he’s only drawn back to the present when Fitzgerald responds to something that Twain says.

“I haven’t heard from Zelda today,” he murmurs, looking a bit unsure. “She usually calls when she wakes up in the morning.”

Zelda, Dazai notes the name down, recalling that Lucy had mentioned it too and thinking back to the comment Fitzgerald had made during the second conversation he had with him. I’ve only met one other… you remind me much of her. His gaze flickers down to the man’s left hand, seeing the gold wedding band sitting on his ring finger.

Fitzgerald notices Dazai’s lingering gaze and sighs before looking away, staring out the windshield as the driver continues down the road in the direction of Nishi-ku. After a few moments, he says quietly, “Zelda is my wife… All of this, it’s for her.”

His tone is solemn, eyes heavy as he stares ahead. Dazai tilts his head to the side as he studies the older man, curious. “All of this?” he asks dryly. “You kidnapped me because of your wife?”

Fitzgerald’s lips curve up into a resigned smile. “Yes,” he says. Dazai’s brows furrow, mind racing as he tries to put together the few puzzle pieces he’s been given. What does his endeavor in Yokohama and with the Port Mafia have anything to do with his wife? He’s missing something. “I’ve done terrible things in the name of love, I’ve gone well past the point of no return. I have to see things through now.”

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu. I have done terrible things for you, and I would do them again and again and again.”

Dazai misses you. The reminder of your words from the beach house makes his body ache with longing. Yet, Fitzgerald’s words don’t settle well with Dazai. They make his skin crawl with nerves, itching uncomfortably beneath his bandages—he needs to replace them, he’s hadn’t had the chance to change them since the Guild kidnapped him. They’re all yellowed and grimy now, and they’re almost intolerable against his skin. He wants to go home. Wants to be with you. 

“What do you mean?” Dazai presses. “What does this have anything to do with your wife?”

Dazai figured that the Guild was just trying to expand into Japan and wanted their first foothold to be in Yokohama to unseat the Port Mafia as the reigning leaders of the Eastern Hemisphere’s underworld… but what would that have to do with his wife? It doesn’t make sense. There’s something he’s missing, something that runs deeper than just territorial conflicts. 

Before Fitzgerald can answer, Twain clears his throat, giving Dazai a suspicious look before speaking to his boss. “I’m sure Zelda is fine,” Twain says. “The nights have been getting longer and colder back home, she always gets more quiet when winter comes around.”

Any disposition Fitzgerald might’ve had to answer Dazai’s questions is gone as the man sighs and leans back in his chair. Dazai shoots Twain a dirty look, to which he receives an entirely too smug one. Bitter and irritated, he hopes that you humble the redhead severely in the meeting.

“You’re right,” Fitzgerald says more to himself than to anyone else. “I’ll see if J.D. can stop by the high-rise after this meeting, he offered to check in on her since he decided not to come along.”

Fitzgerald doesn’t seem inclined to continue any conversation at all. He looks out the window of the passenger seat and a tense silence falls over the car—Dazai is wildly uncomfortable between Twain and James. He can feel both of their thighs bumping against his with each turn the car takes and the forced physical contact makes all of this even more unbearable. 

The seconds feel like hours, the minutes feel like days. When the car finally pulls to a stop, Dazai is itching to claw past Twain so he can have fresh air and personal space. The other man takes far too long to open the door—Dazai thinks it’s on purpose from the way he gives him an entertained look. Dazai scowls at Twain and shoulders right past him, frustrated and antsy, and then-

And then he sees you.

Dazai’s breath catches when he steps out of the car, nearly tripping over his foot when he realizes that you’re standing outside of the teahouse. There are two people on either side of you, but he’s tunnel-visioned on you and you alone. The world could be burning around him and all he would be able to see was you.

You look beautiful. You always look beautiful, but you look especially beautiful now when he’s been deprived of the sight of you for so long. The sun is setting over the bay and Dazai thinks he could drown in the image of you, that he could die happy now that he’s seen you again. You’re dressed neatly in a suit and your expression is cold and closed off, but he can see the way your eyes soften as soon as he’s in sight and it makes his whole body warm with a comfort he’s been so awfully deprived of the past few weeks.

He loves you. He’s missed you. The apology that he’s been rehearsing every day since he was kidnapped threatens to burst from his lips along with everything he wished he said to you but thought he’d never have the chance to. He refrains, if only barely, because he knows now isn't the time for this, not in this setting, but he itches to be at your side, to feel your skin on his again. 

“Don’t try anything funny, yeah?” Twain says with an unkind smile as he nudges Dazai forward. He feels the muzzle of a gun pressed to his lower back, a silent threat for if he was thinking about running to your side.

Fitzgerald walks in front of the three of them, stopping at the bottom of the stairs you’re standing on—a power play, Dazai recognizes, you on a higher ground forcing them to crane their necks to look up at you. Now that Dazai is only partially dazzled by your appearance, he recognizes Nakahara Chuuya and Piano Man on either side of you. The three of you seem to be purposely blocking the entrance of the teahouse and don’t make any effort to move once Dazai and three members of the Guild start making their way to you.

“Do you intend for us to parley out in the open? I would’ve thought that the Port Mafia would appreciate discretion more than that,” Fitzgerald notes dryly.

“I’m afraid we will not be parleying under the current circumstances,” you sigh, and your voice. God, your voice is heavenly, he’s missed it desperately. “You send your… guest over to the car waiting right over there, and then we can talk.”

Hm? Dazai watches curiously, wondering what you’re playing at. There’s no way that the Guild will just hand over their leverage before going into a negotiation, even Dazai knows that much. He knows that you wouldn’t have called this meeting unless you got yourself on even footing with them, but even footing wouldn’t be enough to force Fitzgerald to hand his only advantage over to you. Unless… 

“Unfortunately, you’re in no position to be making demands,” Fitzgerald says with a thin smile. “Once we’ve come to an understanding, I’ll be happy to return your lover to you.”

Lover, Dazai thinks a bit dreamily as if he’s not currently a hostage.

You let out a soft laugh, but it’s not a kind one. Dazai snaps himself out of the borderline trance he was in because of how he was addressed when he hears it, gaze flickering back over to you. The smile on your face is small, but equally unkind, like you know something that Fitzgerald doesn’t. From the way Fitzgerald stiffens, he seems to realize that too.

“I fear that I’m the only one in any position to be making demands,” you say light-heartedly. Dazai watches as you slide something off of the ring finger of your left hand, brows furrowing as you hold up a ring between your thumb and pointer finger, showcasing it for Fitzgerald. “Beautiful ring, truly… You must really love her.”

You flick the ring toward them carelessly. Dazai watches as it bounces against the ground with a soft plink once, then twice, and then everything descends into chaos around him. 

His eyes widen as a gold glow emanates from around Fitzgerald—within a blink, he’s in front of you, Chuuya and Piano Man, fist raised as he threatens to land a devastating blow onto you. Dazai’s lips part in a cry that doesn’t even have the chance to escape his lips because Chuuya is instantly between the two of you, the Tainted Sorrow activated as he throws Fitzgerald back roughly into the road. 

The gun that had been pressed to Dazai’s back is now at his temple, and as Fitzgerald rises back to his feet, you raise your hands in mock surrender. 

“Careful now,” you say, an amused lilt to your tone. “We don’t want things to get violent before negotiations even start. Zelda is a lovely woman, I’d hate for something to happen to her.”

“Give me my wife back,” Fitzgerald says, voice strained, but he deactivates his ability, expression hard as he glares at you. “She has nothing to do with any of this. She-”

“Neither did he,” you interrupt, the easy tone replaced with a much colder one. “Let him go, and then you can come in and we can talk.”

The standstill that takes feels like an eternity. James and Twain stare at Fitzgerald, waiting for orders, and Fitzgerald stares at you, angry and frustrated. It’s almost odd seeing the suave and collected man that’s held him captive the past few days acting like a cornered animal. Dazai supposes he can’t blame him—if he’s done all of this for his wife only for you to now have her as a hostage… Dazai would pity him if he still wasn’t so bitter about the head wound and weeks of captivity. 

Finally, Fitzgerald nods. After a moment’s hesitation and with a conflicted expression, Twain drops the gun that’s pointed at his head. Fitzgerald is stiff as he makes his way forward, Twain and James a step behind him, leaving Dazai standing alone at the bottom of the steps of the teahouse.

You smile thinly as you step out of the way for them, letting them walk into the building. “Good choice,” you say quietly, mockingly because you know that he didn’t have another choice. 

Chuuya and Piano Man share a quick look with you before following the Guild members into the building, leaving you alone outside with him. Dazai stares up at you, all of his practiced words failing him, he wants to walk up the stairs to you but his legs are rooted to the ground. He doesn’t need to move though, because as soon as the doors shut behind them, you’re rushing down from your high ground to him.

Dazai nearly collapses into you as soon as he feels your arms around him. One arm curls around his shoulders, hand cradling the back of his head, and the other wraps around his waist to hold him steady when he leans his full body weight onto you. He has so much he wants to say to you, but he can’t even speak a single word—his breath is ragged and his nails bite into the back of your suit jacket, face pressed in the crook of your neck.

I’m sorry, he wants to say, I’m sorry for what I said, I’m sorry for running out on you, I’m sorry for putting you in this position, I’m-

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. Your voice cracks over your words and Dazai’s throat spasms as he swallows back a lump. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, voice muffled against your skin. His lashes flutter as his eyes slide shut, basking in the familiarity of your arms. For the first time in weeks, Dazai feels safe, he feels warm, he feels like he’s home. “I knew you would come.”

Your arms tighten around him and Dazai almost wants to ask you to skip the meeting with the Guild and come home with him. He doesn’t—mostly because he doesn’t think he has any grounds to ask you to do anything after everything that’s happened, but also because a part of him worries that you might agree to it and he knows this meeting is critical. 

When you pull away from him, Dazai barely bites back a protest but he can’t stop the way his face drops as soon as your arms drop from around him. You notice, a soft smile curling at your lips as you lift your hand to cup his cheek. Dazai leans into your touch, eyes lidded as he looks down at you.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Dazai whispers after a few moments. He’s always struggled with apologies, and even now, the words taste like ash in his mouth, but he forces them out. “I’ve caused you so much trouble, I-”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, not even letting him finish. “Don’t. I shouldn’t have let the argument escalate the way it did, I knew better. What happened isn’t your fault.”

Dazai begs to differ. Your words don’t ease his guilt, but he doesn’t want to argue with you about it, so he lets it drop. His eyes flutter shut again when you run your thumb along his cheekbone, fingers carding absently through the tips of his hair. He doesn’t want to leave you again, almost wants to ask if he could stay for the meeting, but again, he doesn’t.

“Atsushi and Kyouka are going to go back to the apartment with you,” you finally tell him what he’s been dreading, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before you send him off. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

Dazai lets out a heavy sigh, a bit more dramatic than he intended, and you give him a fond smile.

“I left some crab linguine in the microwave for you,” you add. Dazai lights up at the mention of his favorite food—he hasn't had crab since the night he was kidnapped by the Guild. “Go, the quicker I can get this over with, the quicker we can get home and curl up in bed together.”

Dazai makes a show of pouting and being unhappy, but he does step away from you in the direction of the car. He doesn’t get out of arm’s reach before he’s pausing and looking at you again, you raise your eyebrows, silently asking him what’s wrong.

“I love you,” he says very softly, almost like he’s hesitant. Not hesitant in his love for you, just hesitant voicing the words out loud when he knows how much the world likes to fuck with him. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it’s the first time he said it first.

You give him a small, adoring smile. “I love you too, Osamu.”

Dazai lingers for a few seconds longer before making his way over to the car. As his fingers curl around the handle of the door, he pauses and looks back at you, remembering something crucial that he’d been meaning to tell you, calling your name.

“Yeah?” you ask with a frown, looking a bit concerned.

“The Guild isn’t working alone,” he says. “Fitzgerald… he mentioned that he had allies, referred to them as rats that he didn’t trust not to be spying on conversations. He also knows what your ability is, one of your executives is feeding information to him and the Ivory Eagle.”

Your expression shifts into a more unreadable one, gaze shifting from him to look out at the horizon. “Rats, hm?” you say quietly, more to yourself than him. “That explains a lot, actually.”

Dazai isn’t sure what you mean by that, but he figures he’ll bother you for more information when he gets the chance later. He gets into the car with another quiet goodbye, hardly paying attention as Atsushi and Kyouka greet him. His eyes stay on you even as the car pulls away, and you don’t budge from your spot at the bottom of the steps until the car is out of sight.

Somehow, Dazai still has a looming feeling that he’s not out of the woods yet.

—

You enter the teahouse a few moments after the car disappears around the bend leading to the main street of Nishi-ku. The air is brisk and familiar, you’ve spent many days and nights at this teahouse dealing with business for the Mafia. It's your favorite place to bring adversaries for negotiations—the owners are always quick to accommodate you even for last minute meetings, and they’re pleasant enough company when you’re there early waiting for the other party. 

Despite having seen and held Dazai, you still somehow feel discouraged. There’s an unexplainable heaviness in your chest as you make your way into the private room in the back of the teahouse, closing the door quietly behind you.

Chuuya and Piano Man sit on either side of the empty chair left for you; Fitzgerald opposite you with his two lackeys on either side of him. An executive of the Family sits at the head of the negotiation table—originally, you wanted Tolstoy to oversee the negotiation, but you figured that Fitzgerald would be at ease with a more neutral party as the host, and two executives of the Family were already in Yokohama to meet with Piano Man. While the Family is definitely more aligned with the Port Mafia, they also have significant business endeavors in Guild territory, whereas the whole world knows that the Three Deaths and the Port Mafia are pretty much extensions of each other because of your relationship with Tolstoy.

The Family executive is a young woman—you recognize her vaguely, most of your meetings have been with Goldoni himself, but she usually follows along like a silent shadow. You think Goldoni has her set to take over as the next ‘Father’ after him. Regardless, as soon as you take your seat at the negotiation table, she looks at you, waiting for you to begin the discussions. 

A tactical advantage, one that you appreciate. 

“Now that-”

“Where is she?” Fitzgerald interrupts, knuckles white around the edge of the table. “Where is my wife?” 

The executive of the Family turns an unimpressed look onto Fitzgerald. What a fumble, you think, amused. Negotiations aren’t just political devices to create a space for peaceful conferences between rival factions, they’re also used as avenues that can make or break alliances. Disrespect the mediator of the negotiation and you might just find yourself on the outs of the entire organization—the mediator chooses who gives the first dialogue of the negotiation, you don’t ignore that unless you want to piss people off.

You raise your eyebrows at Fitzgerald. “I didn’t say I would give her back to you if you let him go. I said we would talk.”

Fitzgerald slams his hands against the table and rises to his feet. His two subordinates share a look with one another, and you feel Chuuya’s hand rest on your knee, ready to activate his ability at a moment’s notice if Fitzgerald tries to attack you.

“Give me my wife back,” Fitzgerald says, jaw tight and voice rough, clearly trying to restrain himself. “I let him go, so give me her back.”

Your lips curve up into a small smile, and then you say, “No.”

Chuuya doesn’t sigh, he knows better than to not show a united front at the negotiation table, but you know that even though he knows this is necessary, he doesn’t like it. Still, you find yourself enjoying it—what Fitzgerald is feeling right now, you’ve felt for almost two weeks. You’ve never claimed to not be vindictive. 

Your smile widens a bit when Fitzgerald stares at you, expression entirely unreadable. You raise your hands up casually as you shrug, finding the whole situation entertaining. 

“Why would I do that?” you ask, amusement clear in your tone. “I never would’ve given Dazai up in your position. Much less without even getting a promise out of me to get your own hostage freed. That’s crazy.”

You almost expect Fitzgerald to launch himself right at you, no ability activated, just throwing hands, but after what feels like an eternity, he sits back down, back rigid and teeth grinding together. 

“What do you want then?” Fitzgerald asks, his voice is still strained but he’s calmer now.

“Why are you in Yokohama?” Instead of telling him what you want, you hit him with a question yourself, watching him carefully. Now that he’s calmer, your ability starts to go to work—not nearly enough to override how on edge he is because of the situation with his wife, but enough for you to work with. “We both know this isn’t about territory, Fitzgerald-san. Let’s start this off right; tell me what you’re really here for, and maybe we can come to an understanding.”

Fitzgerald’s subordinates share a look with one another, and Fitzgerald himself does not seem keen on answering your question. Interesting, you think, what’s so important that it makes him hesitate even under these circumstances? This is something big, it has to be, especially if Dazai heard correctly and Dostoevsky is involved—that man only ever gets involved with conflicts that have high stakes that he knows he can win, and that doesn’t bode well for you. 

“It is about territory to some extent,” Fitzgerald finally says, resigned. When you narrow your eyes, he shakes his head and continues. “We’re looking for something here in Yokohama. So yes, we were trying to get a foothold in the city so we would have an easier time looking.”

What?

You can feel both Piano Man and Chuuya give you a sharp look, but you keep your gaze trained on Fitzgerald. Your mind races trying to figure out what he means by this, but you just don’t have enough pieces to put the puzzle together. You need to press for more. 

“Looking for what?” you ask coolly.

Fitzgerald stares at you, lips pressed together, expression cold and conflicted. You stare right back, unrelenting. After a few moments, he shakes his head and says, “A book.”

“A book?” you echo. 

“A book,” Fitzgerald confirms. “A reality altering book.”

“What?” Piano Man asks sharply, unable to help himself. You give him a look from the corner of your eye—only the two people sitting in the central seats are supposed to speak during negotiations, but you honestly can’t blame him, because you don’t fully understand what Fitzgerald just said to you.

“What do you mean?” you ask slowly. “A reality altering book here in Yokohama? Where did you hear this from? How do you know it’s real?” 

“Fyodor Dostoevsky of the House of the Dead-” You almost roll your eyes. Of course, it’s him. You’re glad you decided to go with the route you did now. “-approached me about it. It’s something that I simply can’t let pass me by… my daughter…”

Fitzgerald’s face twists in pain; you almost feel bad for everything you’ve done with Zelda. Almost. His two subordinates—Twain and James—lower their gaze to the table, frowning. After a few moments of silence, and carefully constructing a question to figure out if this ‘reality altering book’ might be real’, you speak again.

“And how do you know this book is real? I know enough about you to know you wouldn’t start a full blown war over what could just be a wild goose hunt, what makes you think this thing actually exists?” 

“James was with me when I spoke to Dostoevsky, his ability allows him to decipher whether or not someone is lying. More than that, I’ve seen the Book at work,” Fitzgerald says. Your eyes widen a bit in surprise at his words, more so at the fact that he doesn’t seem to be lying. “Dostoevsky… he has one page of this Book. To prove its ability, and to secure an alliance with the Order of the Clocktower and the Guild, he used a section of it. The Book is real, I was promised a page of it to bring my daughter back if I helped Dostoevsky retrieve it.”

What the fuck. 

You stare at Fitzgerald, careful to keep any emotion off your face even though you’re full of turmoil on the inside. If there’s even a chance that Fitzgerald is telling the truth and there’s now a reality altering Book at play, and not only that, if Dostoevsky already has a page of it, that changes everything. There’s no telling what has or has not been altered, the entire truth of this reality is at question. How much damage could be done with a single page? How does it work? There’s too many variables. 

It might not even be real, you think, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Dostoevsky is notoriously manipulative, there’s always a chance that he manufactured the existence of this book to get Fitzgerald and Christie to do his dirty work. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s pulled something like that—he could’ve used someone else’s ability to make it seem like the page of the Book altered reality to ‘prove it’ to the two other leaders… but somehow you have a feeling that might not be the case. 

“What does the Book have to do with the weretiger you put the bounty on?” you ask. 

You’re starting to feel a bit anxious—this is way more than you anticipated, and there’s so many bad implications that you almost feel overwhelmed, but now’s not the time to let it get to you. You need to focus, you can’t afford to shut down. You need to understand what’s happening before finishing up this negotiation, especially now that Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie are seemingly involved. 

“We were told that the weretiger is essential in finding the Book,” Fitzgerald says after a few moments. “I wasn’t told more than that. I intended on getting my hands on him to figure out why.”

Atsushi doesn’t know anything about this Book. The first thing you did when you got ahold of him was interrogate him for any reason the Guild might’ve put so high of a bounty on his head. Your mind drifts back to Dazai’s theory—that maybe the tiger is a separate consciousness, maybe the tiger knows something about the Book, but you’re not going to voice your theories now. You’ll talk about it with Chuuya and Piano Man later.

“I see,” you say with a thin smile. “How enlightening.”

“Where’s my wife?” Fitzgerald asks again. “I told you everything you want, I-”

“I didn’t promise to give you your wife back if you answered my questions,” you tell him dryly, tone a bit mocking. “That’s twice now. You’d think you would learn.”

You almost commend Fitzgerald for not instantly snapping at you. He stares at you, expression tight and voice strained as he speaks, “Tell me what you want for my wife. Enough of this.”

You watch him listlessly for a few moments, trying to decide if there’s any more pressing information that you should get for him. You’ll have a chance later, but you need to figure out if there’s anything more that might affect the plan you’ve concocted with Tolstoy and Repin. You don’t think there is, and you have to be careful with what you say anyway considering the human lie detector is sitting right next to Fitzgerald, so after a hesitation that lasts too long for Fitzgerald’s comfort, you finally give him your answer.

“How many of your subordinates are aware of Dazai’s existence?”

“Just the three of us,” Fitzgerald replies. Your eyes narrow, so he continues, “I didn’t want it to get out to Dostoevsky. I was worried he would capitalize on the situation before I could. These two were only made aware because they were the ones I had bring him in.”

“Is that so?” you ask coolly. “And which one was the one that left the massive bruise on the side of his face?” 

You don’t get a response, you don’t expect to, but you do catch the way that both glance at the man sitting on the left—Henry James. Your gaze slides from the man over to the far right corner where Akutagawa is standing; Klaus is in the far left one, but Akutagawa will be more brutal if you let him off his leash for this, and you want him to suffer. The boy catches your gaze and gives an imperceptible nod, acknowledging your silent request.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say even though you’ve gotten your answer. “I’ll release Zelda to you, but there’s one non-negotiable condition to it.”

“Tell me it,” Fitzgerald demands. “I’ll do it.”

You lean back in your seat, tilting your head to the side as you study him for a moment, and then you tell him, “You’ll meet with a friend of mine. He has an ability that allows him to alter memories. All memories of Dazai will be removed.”

The room goes silent at once. The redhead, Twain, stiffens in his seat and casts a justifiably wary look toward Fitzgerald who looks caught off guard by the request. You imagine that he probably assumed you would demand he stops working with Dostoevsky and leaves Yokohama. You don’t need to demand that, because that will come as soon as Repin does his job… but Fitzgerald doesn’t know that, of course. 

“How do I know you won’t mess with other things in my head? That you’ll only remove those memories?” Fitzgerald asks tightly.

Originally, you planned on lying and telling him that Repin’s ability didn’t have the power to do anything more than memory removal, but you can’t do that with Henry James sitting next to Fitzgerald, so you're forced to pivot.

You shrug and say, “You’ll have to trust me not to.”

Fitzgerald stares at you, and it feels like hours even though it’s only been a few passing seconds, but when he speaks, you feel as though you’ve won. 

“Fine,” Fitzgerald agrees, expression pinched and conflicted, swallowing thickly. “Fine.”

Your lips curve up into a small smile when you realize he’s decided to trust you—not that there was much of a choice for him if he ever wanted to see his wife again. 

“Good,” you say softly.

Still, a fatal mistake. 

—

“So… uh,” a white-haired boy says awkwardly as soon as Dazai settles in the car next to him. A girl with black hair dressed in a red kimono sits on the other side of him, back stiff and expression eerily blank as she watches Dazai—she doesn’t blink, hardly breathes, Dazai is almost unnerved. “Don’t mind Kyouka. She takes our missions… really seriously, and you’re our mission right now, so…”

“I’m your mission?” Dazai asks dryly, sighing as he rests his head against the head rest, careful to not touch either of the teens sitting next to him. God, he’s tired of being around people, he just wants to curl up in bed. Preferably with you. 

“Mhm.” He nods his head a bit too enthusiastically. “Boss told us to make sure you get to her apartment. We’re gonna stay with you until she gets there.”

Great, Dazai thinks, a little bitter over it.

Evidently, it shows on his face because the boy cringes in on himself and says, “We’ll leave you be, I’m sure you’ve had an, uh, exhausting past two weeks. You won’t even know we’re there. Promise.”

Dazai side eyes him, noticing the way the boy stares ahead embarrassed as if contemplating all of the words he just spoke. He looks… normal for the most part—not like the girl sitting on Dazai’s other side, definitely not like that emo Akutagawa that trails after you like a lost dog, and certainly not like that unhinged brat Klaus who follows you around.

“What’s your name?” Dazai asks for a few moments, sparing the kid from his own thoughts. The kid looks at him startled as if he didn’t expect Dazai to willingly speak to him. “Well?”

“Ah-” he splutters out and then smiles a bit. “I’m Nakajima Atsushi. Just Atsushi is fine though. It’s nice to finally meet you, y’know, without the others around.” 

He lets out an awkward laugh and Dazai recalls the last time he saw the boy—he was with the other two outside of your building when Dazai first got the blackmail on you. Of the three of them, he seemed the most nervous. He’s met both Klaus and Akutagawa since then, unfortunately, but never him.

“That’s Kyouka-chan, by the way. She’s not much for conversation, but she’s great. I would’ve introduced myself sooner, but the first time we met wasn’t exactly the best situation, and boss has me training all the time to try to learn better control over my ability, and Kyouka’s always on missions for Kouyou-san so you probably haven’t met her yet.”

Dazai nods, although he’s not fully paying attention. “What’s your ability?” he asks absently, wishing he was sitting at the window so he could at least distract himself with the passing buildings. 

“I can, uh, turn into a tiger. I can’t control when though,” Atsushi explains, tossing Dazai a sheepish smile. “That’s why I’m always training. I need to be able to control it without relying on boss or, uh, the collar.”

“You’re the weretiger,” Dazai realizes, glancing at Atsushi and then down to the collar around his neck. He can’t tell from first glance what exactly it does, but before he can figure it out, the boy is speaking again.

“She’s mentioned me?” Atsushi leans forward, eyes wide. “What did she say? Did she say anything about how my training is going? She’s been so busy, I haven’t really been able to get any feedback from her, but I’ve made some progress with controlling my transformations… Kind of.”

“Uh,” Dazai says smartly. Weak-hearted, too soft, not fit for the Mafia. Atsushi's smile starts to drop, so Dazai quickly adds, “Yeah, she has. She’s noticed all of the work you’ve been doing. She’s impressed.”

Atsushi frowns and side eyes Dazai. “She’s never impressed with anything. You don’t need to lie.”

Dazai grimaces and decides not to argue. Instead, he asks, “How did you end up with the Port Mafia?”

“Oh, ah… it’s a long story,” Atsushi says, laughing awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck. “I lived at an orphanage, but I got kicked out because there wasn’t enough food. Or well, actually it was probably because I was attacking people when I turned into a tiger at night. But it was for the best anyway! And, well, I ended up here in Yokohama, and I guess at night when I transformed, I started attacking Port Mafia warehouses. So boss sent Klaus and Akutagawa to, uh, kill me, I guess. Or capture me, maybe, for the bounty. I’m not sure now that I think about it; it felt like they wanted to kill me, but they’re both also always trying to kill everything, it’s just their natural state. But I wasn’t tiger-me when they got there, I was me-me, so they brought me back to her… um, and then I talked to her for a bit and she told me about the bounty, and then she fought the other executives to not hand me over to the Guild, and now I’m here.”

Dazai stares at Atsushi. “Wow,” he replies blandly. “Quite the story.” 

Atsushi flushes. “You asked,” he accuses, scowling at Dazai and looking away.

“Yes, very narrative, ten out of ten story-telling skills,” Dazai says with a simpering smile. He notices the stone-faced Kyouka’s lips curl up as she looks out the window, as if trying to hide it, so he considers it a win, even if Atsushi gives him an outraged look. “What?”

“We can’t all be literature majors, some of us spent our entire lives in an orphanage only to be kidnapped by the Mafia as soon as we got out,” Atsushi hisses, face still pink as he pointedly looks away from Dazai. 

“Actually, I’m a creative writing and classics double major if we’re being specific,” Dazai corrects with a sweet smile. “... How did you even know that?” 

Atsushi clicks his tongue and side-eyes Dazai. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart?” Dazai squints at Atsushi, a bit insulted. “Where do you think I heard it from?”

You, Dazai realizes, lips curling up a little instinctively. He wonders how much you talk about him—Atsushi isn’t the first to throw in his face that he’s supposed to be smart. Klaus did when he first met Dazai outside your building, Chuuya has too. He imagines you must brag about him, and it makes Dazai’s chest feel warm and bubbly because he’s never had someone brag about him before. Never.

“You make her happy, y’know,” Atsushi says quietly. He’s not looking at Dazai, opting to stare out the window instead. “She’s… not as… Forget it. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“You can’t just say that,” Dazai complains, interested in knowing what Atsushi was about to say about you, but the boy seals his lips shut and stares out the window. Dazai rolls his eyes.

“Hime is not as cruel as she pretends to be,” Dazai startles at the voice of a young girl, almost forgetting that Kyouka is on his opposite side. “She looks out for everyone, but doesn’t let anyone look out for her. Acts like she doesn’t care so no one cares about her, but she does. A lot. Ane-san worries about her, I can tell.”

Atsushi nods. “When she found out everything that… happened at the orphanage, she had the whole staff removed and replaced them. Made sure what happened to me didn’t happen to anyone else,” he says quietly, an indecipherable look in his eyes. Dazai isn’t sure what happened at the orphanage, but he doubts it was anything good. 

“Hime and Ane-san helped me figure out the truth of what happened to my parents,” Kyouka agrees softly. “Ane-san couldn’t have gotten the files without her help.”

“And she’s done stuff for Klaus and Akutagawa too,” Atsushi adds, “but she won’t let anyone else help her with anything. Not me, not Klaus or Akutagawa. Hardly even Executive Nakahara. She relies on you though, I think a lot more than she realizes… she’s not been good the past few weeks.”

Dazai’s expression drops, lashes lowering as he looks down at the floor of the car. He’s wondered while he’s been captured how you might be doing. When he got really in his head, he imagined that you were doing perfectly fine without him, didn’t even care that he was gone. He thinks maybe he would’ve preferred that than to know that you haven’t been doing well, he doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that you were hurting because of him and his stupid decisions.

He’ll just have to make it up to you, he decides. He’ll make it up to you once everything has calmed down. But how? He can’t buy you nice things like you do for him because he’s broke. If he tries to take you out somewhere to eat (not that he can even afford it), you wouldn’t let him pay the bill. Maybe… maybe he could show you what he’s been working on for his poetry workshop.

His face flames up at the thought, pushing it away immediately.

No, he’ll think of something else.

“Why is your face all red?” Kyouka suddenly asks, eyes sharp as she stares at him. “Are you ill? Did they poison you before releasing you? Look at me, I can call Doc-”

“I’m fine,” Dazai bristles, flustered. “I’m fine, I’m not sick.”

Kyouka looks unconvinced, reaching forward to try to press her hand to Dazai’s forehead. Dazai leans back, almost into Atsushi, who yelps and worms away from him.

“Stop that,” he hisses, grateful when the car rolls to a stop in front of the familiar sight of your building. Dazai is climbing over a protesting Atsushi and pushing open the door before the car has even fully stopped. “Thank god.”

He almost trips and falls, foot catching on Atsushi’s leg as he stumbles out of the car. He ignores Atsushi and Kyouka rushing to scramble after him as he rushes into the building. He’s too eager to be back in your apartment, he has every intention of getting up there and locking himself in your bedroom until you get back. 

He’s home free now, nothing else matters.

He’s home.

Home.

It’s almost too surreal for him to believe. He’d just about come to terms with the fact that he was never going to see you again, that his fate was in that cold and ugly room the Guild had him trapped in, but now he’s moments away from being back in the familiarity of your apartment. 

Moments away from being home. 

In a few hours, when you’re back, he’ll be able to curl up in your arm, he’ll be able to hear your voice, he’ll be able to be with you. He just wants to be with you. And he will be. Soon, he-

Dazai freezes when he takes a few steps into the lobby of your building and feels the muzzle of a gun press to his lower back. His eyes widen and he hears Atsushi and Kyouka skid to a stop a few steps behind him. He swallows thickly, realizing while he’d been lost in thought, he’d also lost track of his surroundings. 

There’s a group of unfamiliar people in the lobby of your building, all armed and all wearing strange collars around their necks. Not like the one Atsushi wears, these ones are large metal ones with a gem implanted in the middle. Your doorman, an older man named Hinata who Dazai has become acquainted with over the past two months, lays dead on top of his desk, hand still reaching out for his phone. 

“Who-”

“Shhh,” an equally unfamiliar voice says dismissively. It’s nasally and grating to the ears, Dazai already knows this man is going to be a piece of work. “Don’t speak, I want to get this done and over with.”

“Ace,” Atsushi shouts angrily. “What the hell are you doing? Get away from him.”

“No can do, weretiger,” the same man, Ace, drawls. “On orders from the Boss. I suggest you step out of the way, I was told he needed to be alive… but anyone that tried… well, you see what happened to old man Hinata over here. Never liked him, thought because he answered directly to our precious hime that he was something special. He wasn’t. Neither are the two of you, so get out of the way so I can complete my mission, yeah? Yeah. Good.”

Atsushi and Kyouka don’t verbally respond, but they don’t need to. Kyouka seemingly responds well enough from the sound of her katana being drawn, Dazai wants to turn around to look, but the gun against his lower back stops him. He’s so frustrated that he almost wants to cry, of course things couldn’t be this easy. He should’ve known better.

Ace clicks his tongue and Dazai still can’t see him, but he can tell just from the mocking tone he uses that the man must have a really punchable face. “Careful, Kyouka-chan, you won’t be the only one getting in trouble for going against the boss’s direct orders. Little hime and Kouyou-san will face the consequences for your disobedience too. You don’t want that, do you?” 

“Kyouka-chan, it’s okay,” Dazai says, voice deceptively even. “It’s okay.”

It’s definitely not okay, but if they’re not going to kill Dazai on the spot, then he can safely assume that they want something from him. That means he’ll have time to stall. Enough time for you to finish up the negotiations and get here. 

“But-”

“You heard it from the man himself,” Ace sings, forcing Dazai to turn around to walk right back the way he came. “Swords down and claws away, kids, and step over to the side so my men can make sure you don’t go and let our shining star know what’s happening too early, alright? Let’s give her time to handle things with the Guild so we don’t have to worry about those irritating Americans anymore.”

Dazai was right. Ace’s face is extremely punchable, and his hands twitch at his side when the man has the nerve to give Dazai a very smug smirk. 

“I’ve been waiting for someone to knock that girl off her high horse for a long time. Longer than you can imagine,” he says wistfully. “I’m so glad I get to be the one to do it. Get moving.”

“She’s gonna kill you,” Dazai says quietly.

“And disobey a direct order from the Boss?” Ace mocks. “You must not know her as well as you thought you did. She’s like a loyal hound to that man. A real bitch if I do say so myself.”

Dazai’s body moves before he actually processes the words, arm shooting out and fist cracking against the man’s jaw hard. Dazai is almost proud of himself as he watches Ace crumple to the ground, groaning, realizing that even after all of this time, he can at least somewhat remember the self-defense lessons that Odasaku forced Dazai to take part in. Though he doesn’t have much time to bask in his pride, because for the second time in less than a month, his head is bashed in by a baton and he crumples to the ground hard.

Shit, he thinks, pain coursing through him as his vision starts to go black. This is bad. This is-

—

“Is it done?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Repin says, holding up his hand as he swiftly walks past you. “I have paintings to create. Too many memories are flooding my head right now, if I have to see that moron you call a boyfriend for longer than I have to, I will gouge my eyes out.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“Don’t forget our deal,” Repin shouts as he leaves the room. “I’ll be cashing in on it. Those additions you asked for were not easy work.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say dismissively. “Go do what you need to do.”

Chuuya looks concerned. “Deal?” he demands. “What deal?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you sigh, shaking your head and turning your gaze back to the one-way glass showing the room that Twain and Fitzgerald are sitting in.

The two are chatting with one another, oblivious to what just happened to them. Repin told you to give it a few minutes before going in, let their brain adjust to the new memories he implanted, but you’re impatient. You want to finish things up here so you can get to Dazai. You miss him desperately already—the few seconds you were able to hold him in your arms were simply not enough. Each passing minute without him now is agonizing.

Before you can spiral deeper into your thoughts, the doors to the room behind you open. Akutagawa and Klaus step into the room—an impassive look on the former’s face, as if his coat isn’t dripping blood onto the ground beneath him, and the latter has a wild smile on his face and an even wilder look in his eyes. Akutagawa evidently allowed the other boy to partake in the bloodshed considering Klaus’s face is smeared with an equally disturbing amount of blood.

“It has been done,” Akutagawa announces, raising his chin. “Henry James was killed.”

“Really fucking brutally too,” Klaus interjects with a laugh that almost disconcerts you. “Wanna come see?”

“No,” you say flatly. “Call the clean up crews.”

Klaus visibly pouts at your words, but Akutagawa nods and pulls out his phone, taking a step away. You turn your attention back to the room, lips pressed together. It’s… odd almost—Fitzgerald and Twain talk casually, not knowing that the negotiation that took place between the two of you even happened, not knowing that 

Not odd—scary. 

You’ve encountered all types of abilities before. Chuuya and Akutagawa have two of the most lethal abilities you’ve ever come across. Klaus’s ability has always disconcerted you with the way it takes and takes and takes from the boy, knowing that someday it would consume him entirely. There was a child you once met with an ability kind of like yours—a type of mental manipulation triggered by physical harm to the user that ravaged the human psyche with hallucinations; they couldn’t control their ability, couldn’t even stop it at their own will, so you had to have them killed. Ayatsuji Yukito, the notorious Homicide Detective that the Special Division has recently leashed, concerns you because the man could kill just about everyone you care about with minimal effort if he’s ever brought into Yokohama to investigate the Port Mafia.

But this is different. Repin’s ability alters the mind so fundamentally that you don’t even know your mind has been altered. That scares you. It scares you almost as much as the prospect of that reality altering book Fitzgerald mentioned. The idea that one person could completely manufacture your perceived reality and you’d have no idea…

It scares you.

“What’s wrong?” Chuuya asks quietly as Akutagawa and Klaus leave the room to direct the cleaning crew to wherever they butchered Henry James. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head. “Just want to be back at my apartment.”

“Soon,” Chuuya tells you, nudging your shoulder. “You wanna go in and talk to them now?”

“You think it’s been long enough?”

“Yeah,” Chuuya says. “Go for it. I’m gonna head up to the conference room. Mori wants to see us after you’re done here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to see Osamu first,” you mutter. “I need to make sure he’s okay before…”

Before getting back into all of this bullshit. You just need to spend ten minutes with him before doing anything else. Ten minutes. Even though he’s back, and you know he’s safe, you watched him get into the car with Kyouka and Atsushi… you’re still on edge. You don’t know why, but you’re still on edge.

Chuuya nods. “I’ll cover for you,” he promises. “Now go finish things here.”

You don’t say anything else, sighing as you make your way over to the door. You wrap your fingers around the door handle, pausing for a second to collect your thoughts. You already know what you’re going to say—you’ve scripted it out, rehearsed it a hundred times. You’ve gone over information with Repin dozens of times to make sure everything is ironed out. 

You know what you’re going to say, you just have to say it, and then you can go see Dazai.

With that thought in mind, you push open the door to the room where the two Guild members are waiting for, making sure the smile on your face is warm and inviting while amping up your ability just enough for it to have a physical effect on them. The tenseness in their shoulders eases, and Fitzgerald rises to his feet with a small smile. 

“Ah, Miss Mori-” God, being called that makes your skin crawl. You can’t remember the last time someone actually referred to you that way—you even prefer hime to it. You have to make an effort to not let the irritation show on your face as Fitzgerald continues speaking, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Fitzgerald-san,” you greet lightly, holding your hand out to him. He shakes it firmly and you add, “I wish it didn’t have to be under the circumstances.”

Fitzgerald grimaces as he nods and takes a step back. “Yes,” he agrees, voice low. “My wife. You have her?” 

“I do,” you tell him, taking a seat next to him. “She’s… not doing well.” 

This is a more casual setting, a sitting room in one of the central building’s higher levels—a few couches set up in the center of the room around a coffee table, a window overlooking the city and a bar on the opposite side of the room. Twain lounges back in one of the armchairs in the corner of the room by the window while Fitzgerald sits closer to you. You chose this setting on purpose: it’s more intimate, less official than a negotiation room. 

More like a meeting between friends than enemies, which is exactly what this has become with Repin’s meddling. 

Fitzgerald sighs and looks away, lashes fluttering. “I feared that would be the case,” he murmurs. “How bad is it?”

You give him a small, sympathetic smile as an answer and Fitzgerald inhales sharply, rubbing his hand across his lower face, forehead creased in worry. 

“I should’ve known better than to deal with Dostoevsky,” he sighs, despondence lacing his tone. “I was warned, but…”

“Many have made the mistake of falling for his charms,” you say quietly. “You can’t blame yourself.”

Good, you start to become a bit more comfortable. Repin pulled through. If all went according to plan, Fitzgerald should believe that Dostoevsky was the one to have Zelda kidnapped, and the Port Mafia was able to intercept. You’ve spent the past few hours tying up all the loose ends—Tolstoy handled the security cameras in New York, you the ones here in Yokohama, there’s no physical evidence left of Tolstoy’s involvement in Zelda’s kidnapping and you’ve ensured rumors have already started spreading about Fitzgerald reneging on his alliance with Dostoevsky and Christie by withholding information. You don’t need to whisper anything else, the entire world knows that Fyodor Dostoevsky does not take treachery lightly, the assumptions will be made on their own. 

“I can when my wife is on the line because of it,” Fitzgerald snaps, and then lets out another heavy breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just frustrated with myself.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him easily. “I understand.”

“Can I see her?” Fitzgerald finally asks hesitantly. “Or is she…”

You make sure the expression on your face is contemplative, a bit concerned and then say, “You can, but I don’t know if it will go well… Dostoevsky… he did a lot of damage to her psyche with the stories he was telling her. I’ve hardly been able to make any progress with her, I’ve only been able to convince her that I’m a friend.”

Fitzgerald grimaces and looks away. While he decides what to say, you contemplate your next move. You have Lippmann ready to bring Zelda into the room; you know that she won’t take the sight of Francis kindly, you’ve ensured that much. Zelda Fitzgerald’s mind has been all but shattered even without the use of your ability. But if Fitzgerald insists on taking her with him, which there’s a good chance he will, you’ll lose some very critical leverage over the Guild. If Fitzgerald ever manages to unravel the memories Repin has woven into his mind, it’ll leave the Port Mafia vulnerable to a full blown war with the Guild without a hostage in hand. 

You really don’t want to lose Zelda.

But… maybe you can still make this work. 

“I want to see her,” Fitzgerald says after a few moments. “Please.”

You nod and glance down at your phone to shoot a text to Lippmann. You’ll only have a few seconds before he walks through the door with Zelda, but you’ll have to figure out your exact approach once you see how visceral her reaction is to Fitzgerald. Though you know it'll be bad, if it’s not bad enough, you won’t be able to convince Fitzgerald that she needs your help. 

The door to the room cracks open and Fitzgerald is on his feet in a second, holding his breath as Lippmann steps in, holding the door open for the fragile woman. His blue eyes are glittering with amusement as he catches your gaze, and you find yourself relaxing, realizing he must’ve been able to get her worked up before leading her in here.

You lean back in your seat, folding your hands in your lap, settling in to watch the show about to unfold. 

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for it to begin.

Zelda freezes in the door frame as soon as her eyes fall on Fitzgerald. You watch the way her breath catches, the way her eyes widen and the way her pupils dilate. She mouths the word ‘no’ before speaking it, shaking her head slowly.

“Honey,” Fitzgerald whispers, taking a step forward, but Zelda takes a step back as soon as he does. “Honey.”

“Stay away from me.” Zelda’s voice breaks over the words, lips visibly trembling as she presses her back against the door frame. She looks like she’s on the verge of fleeing, but Albatross’s sudden presence in the door stops her. “Stay away. You lied to me. You lied. Frances… our daughter, my daughter, you…”

“What?” Fitzgerald breathes out, brows furrowing in confusion. “Zelda, honey, what are you talking about? I don’t-”

“You lied,” Zelda cries, voice rising. “You lied to me. You took my daughter from me, get him away from me, get him away! I don’t want to see him, I don’t-”

Zelda is hyperventilating, hardly breathing properly, eyes wide, wet and watery. You nod at Lippmann, and the man leads her out of the room. It’s quiet once she’s gone—your gaze sweeps across the room, Twain looks sick from where he’s sitting stiffly in the chair he’d been lounging in and Fitzgerald, the powerful leader of the Guild, looks crushed, ashen as he takes a shaky step backward to sit back down.

To his credit, he still tries to keep himself put together. You can tell from the way his breaths are robotically even and his fingers are trembling in his lap. You watch him for a few seconds before reaching out to place your hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve been trying to help her,” you say, carefully choosing your words. “I’ve been told you know what my ability is, is that true?”

You know that it is, you were careful to make sure that Repin didn’t disturb any of those memories. You figured it could help you in convincing him to let you keep Zelda if he thought you could undo the damage ‘Dostoevsky’ had done. 

“I don’t want you messing with my wife’s head,” Fitzgerald spits out. “That Russian bastard has done enough damage.”

“Of course not,” you agree amiably. “That’s not what I mean. I can use my ability to keep people at ease. Every other hour she’s going into violent fits of hysteria… tries hurting herself, I-”

Fitzgerald lets out a sharp breath, looking away. “What did he tell her?” he asks, voice wavering. “She mentioned Frances. I-”

“From what I was able to gather, she seems to think your daughter is alive and you helped her… escape to a foreign country to live out her life away from Zelda,” you say, watching Fitzgerald’s face twist in distress and frustration as he buries his face in his hands. “I can release her to you, if that’s what you want, but-”

“You can help her?” Fitzgerald demands, looking at you. His eyes are red and glassy but his face is tight. He seems to be doing his best to not fall apart until you’re gone, but his self control is wavering the more he hears about Zelda. 

“... I can.”

“How?” he asks. “How will you do it?”

Here’s your chance. You can’t mess it up.

“When Zelda is having those… hysterical fits, she’s impossible to reason with and can’t settle down on her own. I’ve only been using my ability to calm her down so I can speak with her. It’s taking a lot of time, but since I’ve managed to convince her that I’m a friend, I think I’ll be able to make progress in convincing her that Dostoevsky's lies were just that—lies. It’ll be… tenuous, definitely won’t be a smooth path, but I think, with time, I’ll be able to do it.”

“Will there be any side effects to you using your ability to calm her down?” he questions, watching you carefully.

“Nothing major,” you say honestly. “In the future, she’ll probably feel instinctually more relaxed around me—her brain will just associate me with being at ease, so even if I’m not actively using my ability, it’ll still reflect that way, but no lasting effects.”

After an agonizing few seconds, Fitzgerald nods. 

“Help her. Please,” he says, voice raspy. “When Dostoevsky comes to Yokohama, you’ll have the Guild’s support in dealing with him. I swear it. Just help my wife.”

Wow, you think, almost unnerved by how well this worked out. You have Dazai back, you managed to keep Zelda, and you turned the Guild against Dostoevsky. You can’t help but feel like there’s going to be some sort of catch, or that it’s going to backfire. It would track considering how poor your luck has recently been. But for now, you roll with it and hope for the best. You'll start preparing for the worst after you’ve been able to spend a few days with Dazai. 

“I’ll do everything I can for her,” you say, rising to your feet and giving Fitzgerald a small smile. “You can stay here for as long as you need. I’ll have one of my men wait outside to escort you back to the lobby when you’re ready.”

Fitzgerald thanks you, and you finally turn to leave, ready to see Dazai. You just need fifteen minutes with him before you go off to your meeting with the other executives. You need to see him, hold him, talk to him. Need to make sure this isn’t all some cruel, elaborate trick your mind has played on you before heading into another exhausting meeting. 

Klaus, Akutagawa and Albatross are waiting outside for you. Albatross parts his lips to speak but you shake your head, not wanting to risk saying anything until you’re well out of ear shot of this room, just in case. They follow you to the elevator, and it’s only once the doors close that Albatross bursts into laughter.

“You’re one evil bitch,” Albatross snickers. “Fucking that woman’s head up just to play the hero? That’s messed up even for you, doll. I don’t know how you sleep at night.”

Your lips curl up into a smile as you toss a wink at Albatross. “I’ll sleep just fine tonight with Dazai in my bed.”

“Gross,” Albatross complains, rolling his eyes. “No, but really. This was one big play—less than two hours and we’ve managed to totally turn the tables. Crazy. What exactly did you have Repin do besides remove their memories of your boy?” 

“Before Dazai went back to my apartment, he told me that the Guild was working with Dostoevsky,” you explain as the elevator gets to the lobby. Albatross walks at your side, Klaus and Akutagawa trailing behind the two of you as you make your way out of the building to walk across the property to your building. “I already intended on using Dostoevsky and Nabokov as scapegoats, but this made it a lot easier. Fitzgerald was withholding information from him-”

“Everyone knows that bastard doesn’t let disloyalty slide,” Albatross grins sharply. “Of course he’d retaliate.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “I had Repin twist the situation. Made them believe that Dostoevsky was the one that had Zelda kidnapped, but we were able to intercept. Only Tolstoy’s executives, our executives, and my direct subordinates know the truth. Tolstoy handled CCTV in the States, we handled the ones here. If Dostoevsky tries to convince Fitzgerald that it’s not true, there’s no proof—only he said, she said—and even if he does…”

“We still have Zelda,” Albatross finishes with a sharp grin. “Evil. I can’t believe we managed to come out of that with your boy back, the Guild on our side, and the hostage still in our custody. God, I love you. You can be fucking terrifying sometimes, y’know that?” 

Your lips part to make a quip back at him as you push open the doors to your building, but the words die on your tongue as your gaze lands on what’s awaiting for you in the lobby. The first thing you see is your doorman slumped over the desk, blood dripping over the side and pooling on the ground in front of it. The next thing you see is Kyouka and Atsushi, both unconscious, needles discarded carelessly on the ground next to them.

You don’t see Dazai.

“What the fuck,” Albatross breathes out, pulling out his gun and shifting to stand in front of you. “Klaus, go check on Atsushi and Kyouka.”

Klaus and Akutagawa rush from behind you—Klaus to Kyouka and Atsushi, trying to wake the two of them up, and Akutagawa in front of you and Albatross, Rashumon at the ready. You can feel Albatross’s hand tight around your forearm, you can hear him talking but you can’t make out any word that he’s saying.

“This isn’t real,” you say flatly as you stare ahead. “This cannot be real.”

Something bubbles in your chest—you don’t know if it’s rage, distress or sheer hysteria, you think a combination of all three because although your blood is simmering, you feel your eyes misting over and a laugh about to burst from your lips because what the fuck? 

You press your hand to your mouth, hardly even registering what’s going on around you. Klaus is trying to shake Atsushi and Kyouka awake, Akutagawa is scouting out the rest of the lobby to make sure no assailants are still lingering, and Albatross is trying to get your attention but you don’t take notice of him, shaking your head, and trying to hide the way your lips are curling up into a disbelieving smile.

What a joke, you think, breath catching as you pace over to Klaus, Atsushi and Kyouka. Shit.

As soon as Atsushi’s eyes flutter open, you’re grabbing his chin and craning his neck to force him to look you in the eye. “Where is he?” you ask, voice surprisingly steady. “Where is he? What happened? Answer me, Atsushi.”

Albatross says your name and grabs your wrist to try to get you to back off, but you toss his hand right off of you. Atsushi is still out of it, not understanding what you’re asking him, but before your frustration can bubble over, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. 

Your hand drops from Atsushi’s face to reach into your pocket. Your fingers are stiff and clunky as you pull your phone out, and as soon as you see the name on your screen, you know. 

You don’t say anything as you answer the call and lift the phone to your ear, waiting for the person on the other line to speak first. 

“Hello, little hime,” Mori says, you can hear the smile on his lips. “Have you finished with the Guild?”

“Where is he?” you ask in response. “Where is he?”

“Safe for now,” Mori hums, sounding entirely too amused. “I’ve had quite an interesting conversation with him. I can see why you like him as much as you do.”

“Everything I do for you,” you hiss, the nails of your free hand digging into your palm. “Everything I do, and this is how you repay me. I’ve spent my whole life doing everything you want, and you can’t even spare me a shred of fucking loyalty. You-”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, dear,” Mori sighs and your blood pressure skyrockets. “I’m doing this to protect you, as has everything I’ve ever done. You truly have no faith in me.”

“To protect me?” you shout, your throat burns and it’s a struggle to force yourself to breathe properly. You feel dizzy, a panic attack coming on, but now is not the time, you need to calm down. “You did this to protect me?”

“I did,” Mori agrees. “This boy had been lying to you for months. I had a feeling, but I wanted to confirm it before bringing anything up to you. I know you care for him. I didn’t want to unnecessarily break your heart.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve never lied to you, little hime. I have to many people, but never you. He’s been lying to you about who he is… I suggest you get up here quickly.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Your voice wavers this time, you can’t stop it. You can feel several sets of concerned eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet any of them. “Stop being cryptic, just spit it out.”

“The boy’s name is not Dazai Osamu, dear. It’s Tsushima Shuji.”

Your ears ring as his words slowly process through your head. Your silence is enough of an answer for Mori.

“I’ll be waiting in the conference room for you. Do get here soon.”

[miloformula123fan]

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where he's got into crash and she's worried because she thinks he'll never got the chance to know that she's pregnant? Add something you'd like. Thanks :))

ahahah, i know i just said that i was gonna halt updates, but then i churned this out kinda quick haha :)

it is kind of short though so apologies :)

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(hint hint: this closes on Thursday 1st March 0:00 GMT, so if you want to make a request do so soon because this is in a little more than a week when publishing this :))

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

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fernando alonso x wife!reader

“Be safe, please, mi amor.” he held Fernando in her arms as he paused getting ready to turn around and look at her.

“I am always Carina… Podium on the cards for today haha” He smiled

“Ha, got a surprise for you after the race…if you get a podium today of course.” She looked down, smiling, thinking of the surprise she had planned.

“A nice surprise I hope carina…” He winked and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the implications of his flirty statement, and the blushes of the mechanics who had heard their conversation.

“Not that kind of surprise, but I think you’ll be happy nonetheless…” She smiled knowingly as he looked slightly puzzled before the activity seemed to pick up and was aware he needed to start getting ready.

“As long as you are feeling better than you were this morning I will always be happy.” He smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

She gave him his traditional pre race good luck kiss and then his helmet was on his head and he was in the car.

Y/N snuck into Nando’s room, being let in by his trainer Alex. She placed the box on his massage table. It was a pretty simple box, all that was inside was a sonogram, a baby onesie and the positive pregnancy test that was gonna change their lives. 

She’d been feeling sick for a couple of weeks now, and when she’d missed her period she’s had a hunch as to what it could be, but it wasn’t until she had bailed on a triple header because she hadn’t been feeling well, that she’d had time to take the test, freak out about how positive it was.

(she’d called Mark in a panic, and then he’d added Jenson to the call in his panic and then they’d just had Mark, Seb and Jenson on a call freaking out, not helping her to calm down in the slightest, but making her laugh. Eventually Hanna had tried to work out what the fuck was going on with her husband, and had provided some actually useful advice)

Following Hanna’s advice, she’d gone to the doctors and gotten the ultrasound photo. She’d sent Hanna and Lance a photo of the ultrasound, to thank Hanna for her help in the boys panic call, and to let Lance know that he would be the godfather (she thought Nando would like that) but not to tell Nando, as she hadn’t told him yet, but she needed to tell someone. The doctor had confirmed that everything was going okay and that she was about 10 weeks along. Y/N had immediately spotted the onesie online and ordered it, preparing to tell Nando whenever she saw him. The onesie arrived fairly quickly, however, trying to keep the onesie, the test and the sonogram hidden from him for the week that he was home before the Spanish grand prix. She wanted him to know immediately because they’d been trying for so long and so many fails that it was a fucking miracle right now.

Their miracle. Their miracle baby.

Finally the week had arrived and she’d hidden the box with Nando’s personal trainer, who handed it to her after she’d given her good luck wishes to him and he’d sat in the car. She made sure to make it back for the start of the race, so as to not raise any suspicion. And then it was lights out and away they went.

The race had been going well for Fernando. Actually better than well. He was in P2, not even a second behind Perez. It had been helpful that Max had had his first mechanical failure in like 5 years, taking him out of the lead, and promoting everyone up a place. And now Fernando was contending for the lead. Y/N was so excited for him, she couldn’t wait to see him on the top step of the podium and then tell him the awesome news.

Of course then it all went horribly wrong.

Crofty’s voice filled her ears, “AND THAT’S FERNANDO ALONSO GOING FOR THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX GOING FOR HIS 33RD WIN GOING AROUND THE OUTSIDE OF SERGIO PEREZ AND THEY TOUCH AND THAT’S BOTH OF THEM GOING INTO THE BARRIERS AND OUT OF THE RACE WHICH PROMOTES LANDO NORRIS INTO THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX AND THAT’S A BIG CRASH. FERNANDO IS WEDGED BETWEEN PEREZ AND THE BARRIERS, AND HIS CHASSIS LOOKS CRUSHED and we are really hoping that he is okay there.”

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

No response.

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

Y/N could feel her legs getting weak, and could tell that the people around her were holding her up. She remembers being introduced to Shakira at the start of grand prix, and she complimented her nails. She could feel the nails digging into her left arm, which meant that Shakira was holding her up right now, and if Fernando's life wasn’t at threat, she might be fangirling right now. Still no response.

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

No response. Their miracle wasn’t going to meet their dad

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

fuck.

“And while i’m not entirely sure why Fernando wasn’t responding on the radio just then, but I can now tell you that he is walking out of the crash and he seems all okay.”

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and tried standing up while letting out wet sobs. She knew she was probably on TV right now, looking a mess, being held up by Shakira and crying when her husband was all okay, but that didn’t matter.

Because Fernando was okay.

She followed his progress on the TV as the team moved the focus to Lance and potentially getting him a win. But she tracked him until he was back in the garage and back safe in her arms. Whispering his reassurances to her.

This was also being broadcast, but she didn’t care. 

He was safe and he was in her arms.

Y/N followed Fernando into his driver's room, entirely forgetting about the surprise that she had left in his room until they came in and she saw the box sitting on the massage table. 

Fernando turned around to her in confusion, “Did you leave this here Carina?”

“Uhh, yeah but it’s nothing, it was supposed to be a surprise for when you got your podium, so look at it later maybe…”

Within 2 strides Fernando was at the box and lifting off the lid. There goes the plan of telling him when he was in a good mood.

Fernando pulled out the onesie, black with a message of ‘daddy’s little race engineer’. Maybe Y/N’s hormones were hitting hard today because the sight of Nando holding a baby onesie was enough to bring her to tears, imagining Nando holding their baby.

“What is this carina?”

“It’s ummm, the surprise I mentioned before…I wanted you to see it when you got your podium, so you can ignore it I guess…”

“No, no, I mean, why is there a sonogram, baby onesie and pregnancy test in here? Is Lance having a baby and wanting to let me know I was the godfather?”

“No, no, mi sol, it’s ours.”

“Ours?”

“Our baby.”

Y/N watched as Fernando processed the words. And then all of a sudden she was being picked up and spun around in a hug as Fernando cried at her.

“Our baby…oh Carina…our baby! I’m so happy right now.”

He was practically yelling, so a few team members came to see what was going on. And then walked in on a happy couple, sobbing to each other as they curled up on the floor. A baby onesie in one’s hands, and the sonogram in the other.

And all of a sudden the media could wait.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @janeholt3

[romerona]

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: canon violence. Word count: 7.4K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

Syrup Village, Gecko Islands.

It's been a few days since Buggy's mishap. The days dragged on tediously, with Y/N's head throbbing every time Nami and Zoro argued or Luffy experimented with potential names for their non-existent crew. Therefore, when it was revealed that Nami's boat was gradually sinking, Y/N felt a surge of relief because it meant they needed to navigate towards the nearest island, which they did.

Currently, they found themselves at Syrup Village on Gecko Islands…

The village exuded a quaint charm, with its small, closely-knit community and rustic architecture. Cobbled streets wound through clusters of thatched-roof cottages, each adorned with colourful window boxes brimming with vibrant flowers. The air was filled with the scent of salt from the nearby sea, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread from the village bakery.

Children laughed and played along the streets, their cheerful voices carrying on the gentle breeze. Merchants peddled their goods from wooden stalls, offering everything from fresh produce to handmade trinkets. The villagers moved with a relaxed, unhurried pace, greeting one another warmly as they went about their daily routines.

Y/N flashed a charming smile at the baker as she accepted the paper bag of biscuits. "Much appreciated, kind sir."

The baker, a portly man with flour-dusted hands and a warm, ruddy face, beamed back at her. "You're most welcome, young lady. Freshly baked this morning. I hope you enjoy them!"

Y/N's eyes twinkled with mischief. "With a scent this heavenly, I'm sure they'll taste like a slice of paradise. You have a true gift for making hearts flutter."

The baker's cheeks turned a deep magenta, and he chuckled sheepishly.

"You are too kind," he stammered, clearly flustered by Y/N's charm.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her tone conspiratorial. "Oh, but you deserve the recognition, especially when delectable treats are involved."

The baker's eyes widened with surprise, and a shy grin played on his lips. "Well, in that case, I'll have to make sure to bake extra special goodies for you next time."

Y/N gave him a playful wink. “I’ll hold you to that promise. Thank you again, and may your ovens always stay warm and your dough always rise perfectly.”

With a final charming smile, Y/N bid the chuckling baker farewell and sauntered off.

As Y/N walked through the cobbled streets, savoring the sweet treat, the corner of her eye caught a flash of orange. She turned her head slightly and saw Nami approaching, her hair unmistakable in the bright sunlight. Without missing a beat, Nami fell into step beside Y/N, her eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced precision.

“Found something useful about this town?” Y/N asked, offering the open paper bag of biscuits.

Nami reached into the bag, taking a biscuit as she continued to survey the street. “We’re in luck. This is a ship-building town,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of satisfaction.

Y/N hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze softening as a group of children darted past them, their laughter echoing through the air. An older woman, likely their grandmother, scolded them gently from a nearby doorstep. Y/N smiled at the scene, thinking that if she weren’t caught up in the whirlwind of adventures with Luffy and the crew, she might have enjoyed staying in a place like this for a while.

“How about you? Found something?” Nami asked, her tone casual but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

Y/N smirked, holding up the half-eaten biscuit. “Apart from these divine biscuits, not much yet. But the villagers are friendly.”

Nami scoffed lightly as she took a bite of her biscuit. “More like naive,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But that works in our favor since we need to take one of their ships.”

Y/N nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Let’s just hope they don’t notice it missing too soon. This place seems peaceful—I’d rather not bring trouble here.”

Nami glanced at her, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t go soft on me, Y/N.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not going soft. Just enjoying the calm before the storm.”

The two continued down the street, their conversation drifting to lighter topics as they made their way through the village until they reached the straw hat Luffy and three swords Zoro.

“Hey! You got us a ship?” Luffy called out as soon as he spotted them, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Then, his gaze zeroed in on the bag of biscuits in Y/N’s hands, practically sparkling with anticipation.

“Working on it. Did you push the sloop out to sea like I told you?” Nami asked, her tone brisk as she kept her focus on their mission.

“Yeah.” Luffy nodded, already diving into the bag and pulling out the last three biscuits. “No Marines are gonna be following us here.”

Y/N’s scowl was immediate, and with a swift hand, she snatched one of the biscuits back from him. “Leave me one.”

“Well, we’re not gonna be here very long. Turns out Syrup Village is known for their shipbuilding. Lots of options,” Nami explained, glancing between them.

“What are we waiting for then?” Luffy asked, already chomping down on his biscuit as he began striding off in the direction both girls had just come from.

Nami sighed, her expression a mix of confusion, frustration and acceptance as she followed after him.

Y/N chuckled softly at their captain’s predictability, but just as she was about to move, the sound of paper tearing made her pause. She turned to see Zoro ripping Buggy’s wanted poster, crumpling it in his hand with a scowl.

“Stupid clown,” Zoro muttered, his tone laced with annoyance.

"Stupid clown indeed," Y/N’s lips twitched into a grin as she gave him a playful pat on the back. “But we did get to wipe that smirk off his painted face. Worth it, don’t you think?”

Zoro’s expression darkened further. “Should’ve cut his dick off,” he grumbled, tossing the crumpled paper to the ground.

Y/N laughed, a light, melodic sound that seemed to ease some of the tension in the air. “Ah, but then what would he have left to make a fool of himself with? Besides, something tells me your swords will have plenty of other targets soon enough, so don't dwell on it, hot shot.”

"For now, how about a little sugar to sweeten that sour mood?” She held up the last biscuit with a teasing wink. “Consider it a token of my endless admiration for your swordsmanship.”

Zoro eyed the biscuit, then Y/N, who continued to grin up at him with that infectious charm. After a moment of regarding her, he sighed and took the treat. “Let’s go then, stupid.”

Y/N gasped in mock offence, placing a hand over her heart. “You wound me, Zoro. But I’ll forgive you since you’re sharing this last biscuit with me.” She snapped off a piece of the treat and popped it into her mouth before Zoro could protest. Shaking her head with a smirk, she quickly caught up with the rest.

The four of them walked through the bustling shipyard, their eyes scanning the area for a suitable vessel. The shipyard was a hive of activity, each corner alive with the sounds and sights of shipbuilding.

Y/N’s gaze roamed over the scene with a mixture of fascination and appreciation. Workers moved with practiced efficiency, their hands expertly crafting the vessels from the ground up. Carpenters were hard at work, sanding wooden planks with smooth, rhythmic strokes, each swipe transforming rough wood into sleek, polished surfaces. Nearby, blacksmiths wielded hammers with precision, shaping red-hot iron into nails and screws. The clanging of metal against metal rang out in a steady rhythm, a stark contrast to the otherwise serene surroundings.

“Look at ’em all,” Luffy said, his eyes wide with fascination as he took in the busy scene.

“How much do these cost?” Zoro wondered aloud, his gaze drifting over the impressive array of vessels.

Y/N let out a scoff, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Oh, a pittance. Just your firstborn, an eye, half a leg, and if we're feeling generous a pint of your finest blood— bargain prices, really.”

Luffy’s excitement seemed to shift into high gear. “Okay, so we need one with a very, very impressive figurehead. At least two… no, three masts! And a really high crow’s nest!”

Nami shot him a look, “We’re not gonna be able to sail a ship anywhere near that size. There’s only four of us.”

Luffy’s enthusiasm remained undeterred. “Four of us right now.”

Y/N chimed in, a playful smirk on her face. "Unless you manage to recruit another weird, desperate soul to help us, that is."

Zoro grunted. “Speak for yourself.”

Both Nami and Y/N rolled their eyes in unison.

Listen, we’re going to need something a little less flashy if we want to sneak out of here,” Nami said firmly, catching Luffy off guard.

The straw hat boy came to a sudden halt, causing the others to stop with him. He turned to Nami, his frown deepening with confusion. “You want to steal a ship?”

“How else did you expect us to get one?” Nami asked her tone a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“I don’t know. But we can’t steal one,” Luffy said with determined finality.

Y/N shrugged her tone a blend of resignation and sympathy. She didn't enjoy the idea of stealing the hard, arduous work of someone but she also understands what it takes to survive. “It’s less about ‘wrong’ and more about ‘what works' because either we get practical or get used to swimming. It’s your call, stud.”

“A ship isn’t just a ship,” Luffy said, determination in his eyes. “It’s part of our crew. We need the perfect one. And we’re going to get it the right way.”

Y/N felt a twinge of sympathy. It was as if he hadn’t quite grasped the harsh realities of the world—or maybe he simply refused to. His optimism was endearing, even if it was a little misguided

“Okay, pitch that to the salesman. I’m sure that’ll win him over,” Nami said, her sarcasm barely masked.

Luffy’s smile widened. “Exactly.” He then started walking off in a random direction, leaving the others to watch him go.

The remaining trio sighed in unison.

“Right over his head, as usual.” Y/N huffs, shaking her head with a wry smile.

“So what are we actually going to do?” Zoro asks

“I’m guessing plan A, right?” Y/N said with a shrug.

With a resigned sigh, Nami nodded. “Find a ship and see how lax the security is around here.”

“Got it,” Zoro replied, his tone reflecting a mix of determination and acceptance.

The three of them set off in the direction Luffy had wandered. After a bit of searching, they finally found him admiring a ship with unrestrained enthusiasm.

“There you are,” Nami said, catching up with the eager boy.

“Guys!” Luffy called out, “I found it. I found our ship!”

Y/N looked up at the vessel he was so enthusiastic about. The first thing that caught her eye was the large figurehead—a jovial ram’s head perched proudly at the prow, its carved eyes gleaming with a friendly, mischievous glint. The ship, though modest in size, radiated a warm, inviting aura. The polished wooden hull, adorned with intricate patterns, was both elegant and whimsical. Y/N couldn’t help but smile; the ship was certainly unique, if a bit quirky. Just like Luffy.

“And this guy will sell it to us,” Luffy said, pointing at a boy with a bandana and a cleaning cloth in his hands.

The trio turned to the so-called salesman. The boy’s expression oscillated between confusion and alarm.

“Uh, wait. What? Uh…” the boy stammered.

“Yeah! The ship, we’ll take it,” Luffy declared with confidence.

“Technically, she’s not for sale,” the boy said slowly, earning a confused “huh?” from Luffy. “And technically, I’m not a salesman.”

“Then what are you doing around here?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

The boy’s face lit up as he noticed Y/N. He puffed out his chest. “Well, you see, I’m the Chief Technician in charge of encrustation removal and aviary waste eradication.”

Y/N stifled a laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, I see. A very prestigious title.”

“Encru what?” Luffy asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

“He scrubs barnacles and cleans bird shit,” Zoro explained flatly.

Nami sighed, looking to Luffy. “He can’t help us.”

As they turned to leave, the boy’s voice rang out.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! I can help you,” he called, a hopeful smile spreading across his face. “The owner of this ship is my closest friend in the world.”

“Your friend owns this ship?” Nami asked, clearly skeptical.

“Not just this one. She owns the whole shipyard,” the boy said, his grin widening with a touch of arrogance. “She’s rich, rich.”

“Oh!” Luffy exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

“I’m sure you could strike a deal with her,” the boy said confidently.

Luffy turned to the group with a hopeful grin. “See?”

Y/N pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Nami said with an unusually sly smile. “It couldn’t hurt to say hello.”

Y/N glanced at Nami for a second, at her grin, definitely planning something. With a resigned sigh, Y/N nodded with a tight smile. “Alright, let’s go meet this friend of yours and see if we can charm her into giving us a ship.”

The boy beamed, clearly delighted by their willingness to meet his friend. “Great! Follow me. You’re going to love her.”

Usopp, as they had come to learn the boy’s name was, led them to the edge of the village. There, towering above the town, stood a massive mansion that seemed almost out of place amidst the quaint charm of Syrup Village. The elegant structure loomed with an air of grandeur, its pristine walls and manicured gardens hinting at the wealth of its owner.

"I’ve never seen a house this big before," Luffy said gazing at the mansion.

"Impressive, right?" Usopp grins, and he walks backwards to talk to them a skip on his step as he continues, "Kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime I want."

"All of this just for one person?" Luffy asked, puzzled.

Usopp leans against the well, "Well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff."

Y/N whistled as she peered down the dry well, a playful smirk on her lips. "When I’m famous, I’ll need a place like this—no, scratch that. Bigger, with a well so deep you could drop your problems in it and never hear them hit the bottom."

Y/N started to head toward the front door but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her away. "Errr—not that way," Usopp said, releasing her as he led them toward a lush garden and… a pond?

Luffy, ever curious and clueless, asked, "So if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?"

"I never use the front entrance." Y/N frowns as she watched the boy leap across the large, floating plants. "This is more of a VIP entrance reserved for special guests."

In the short time of knowing Usopp, Y/N knew he had a knack for stretching the truth, but she hoped that at least this time, there was some truth to it. If he knew another way into the manor, he must've been here before. Plus, the way he talked about Kaya, the girl who lived there, made it seem like he knew her personally.

Against her better judgment, Y/N hopped onto one of the large plants. It was surprisingly fun.

Just as she landed on another plant, Usopp suddenly halted. "Oops. You know, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way."

Y/N looked up just in time to see a burly butler throw something with pinpoint precision, landing between Usopp’s feet, causing him to gasp.

"What the hell are you doing here, Usopp?" the butler growled, advancing toward them. Behind him was a blue-haired woman—another maid, Y/N assumed—expertly swinging a broom like a weapon.

Y/N couldn’t help but think, That’s... odd. These butlers seem way too familiar with weapons.

"Buchi, buddy, uh, Kaya’s expecting me," Usopp said, voice urgent.

The butler, Buchi, hissed, echoing Y/N’s thoughts. "Another one of your lies."

The butler grabbed hold of Usopp's shirt, pulling him closer as he hissed, "You ain't welcome here, and you know it."

Usopp, despite being in a tight spot, kept his carefree demeanour. "I know nothing of the sort," he said, unfazed, if a little nervous. "I’m here to give Kaya an extra-special gift."

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a flicker of amusement at Usopp’s audacity, even in such a tense situation.

Suddenly, like a beam of light cutting through the tension, a girl's voice rang out. "Usopp!"

From deeper in the garden, a young girl—no older than the group—emerged, leaning on another butler for support. Y/N could tell he was likely the head butler, judging by how the other two straightened up immediately. Luffy, Y/N, Nami, and Zoro exchanged glances filled with curiosity and confusion, particularly at the realization that Kaya, the girl of the house, actually knew Usopp.

With ash-blonde hair and wearing a soft pink dress, Kaya beamed at Usopp with pure happiness. "What a wonderful surprise!"

"Hmm!" Usopp grinned victoriously, brushing off Buchi's hands as he confidently walked toward her. "Kaya!"

"Happy birthday," he said once he was close enough.

Kaya’s smile was shy but full of admiration. "You remembered."

"Of course I did."

The head butler, wearing glasses and white gloves, cleared his throat sharply. "Usopp, we've discussed this. You musn't show up unannounced."

"Nonsense, Klahadore," Kaya quickly interjected, giving Usopp an encouraging smile. "Have you come to tell me another story? I do love hearing about your adventures."

"I'll do you one better," Usopp replied, turning toward Y/N, Luffy, Nami, and Zoro, and dramatically gesturing toward them. "I brought some of my crew."

Y/N’s eyebrow twitched in confusion.

Luffy glanced at Zoro, Nami, and Y/N, all wearing the same bewildered expression. "Is he talking about us?"

Kaya, however, does not seem to notice it and smiles at the four. "It’s so nice to meet you. You all must stay for dinner."

Klahadore’s eyes darted to Kaya, his tone instantly concerned, if a little anoyed. "Miss Kaya, it is a bit last minute. I’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests."

From beides her, Luffy deflated.

"Please, Klahadore," Kaya pleaded, her voice sweet as she gave him a pout. "It’s my birthday. Can’t be too much trouble, can it?"

"Of course, Miss Kaya," Seems that the girl's pout did its work the butler didn't even hesitate this time around. "Anything for you."

Luffy perked right back up. "All right! So, when do we eat?"

Without missing a beat, Klahadore replied, "You don’t. Not dressed like that."

Y/N’s expression soured slightly as she glanced down at her outfit. It wasn’t the fanciest, sure, but she certainly didn’t think she looked bad. She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Rude."

"Sham, please show Usopp and his… friends to the guest suites," Klahadore instructed. The blue-haired woman stepped forward at his command. "You will all bathe and change before dinner," he added, looking back at the group.

Sham gave a curt nod and led the way inside the mansion, the others following.

"A bath does sound nice," Nami said, smiling as she followed Luffy, who skipped along behind Sham.

Usopp followed next, but Zoro and Y/N lingered—each for different reasons. Zoro’s gaze lingered on Klahadore with a hint of suspicion, while Y/N hesitated for a different motive. She wanted to charm the birthday girl. After all, as Usopp had demonstrated, having powerful friends never hurt.

With a dazzling smile, Y/N sauntered over to Kaya and the ever-watchful Klahadore, their gazes snapping to her in unison. Undeterred, she tilted her head slightly, letting a playful glint appear in her eyes as she spoke.

"Well, I figured after such a warm welcome," Y/N said with a subtle wink, glancing at the butlers before focusing on Kaya, "it’d be rude of me not to introduce myself properly." She extended her hand gracefully. "Y/N, at your service. And a very happy birthday to you! If I’d known, I’d have brought a gift—or at least a balloon or two."

Kaya blinked, caught off guard for a moment before a giggle escaped her. "Oh, thank you! That’s very kind of you."

Y/N flashed a grin. "Kindness comes naturally when I’m around people as lovely as you." Her eyes darted toward Klahadore, her voice dropping playfully.

"Though, if I’d known we were in for such a grand entrance, I might’ve brought a sword too. Seems like that’s part of the dress code around here." She smirked at the butler’s stiff posture, her words teasing but never crossing the line into disrespect.

Kaya blushed slightly, clearly charmed. "I’m so glad you could all join. Please, don’t worry about a gift—your company is enough."

Y/N placed a hand on her chest, feigning relief. "Thank the stars. I’m a terrible shopper, anyway. Though, if we ever need to sneak into a party again, Usopp and I will make a fabulous team."

Even Klahadore seemed momentarily at a loss for words, while Kaya laughed brightly. It was a small victory, but one Y/N could savor as she followed the rest of the group, already making mental notes on how to further charm the household.

But suddenly, Kaya began to cough, causing Y/N's grin to fade into a look of concern. It was then that she noticed just how pale and sickly the girl appeared—gnarly, in fact. Kaya’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes looked a bit too bright, as if she were fighting something beneath the surface.

"Miss Kaya, we should head inside so I can get you some tea," Klahadore said, still holding into the girl.

Y/N stepped closer, her tone gentle but firm. "Is there anything I can do to help? I’m no healer, but I’ve seen a thing or two when it comes to health."

Kaya shook her head, trying to muster a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. "I’ll be fine. Just... need some tea."

"That you do,” Klahadore remarked, his voice neutral but laced with a hint of reluctant acknowledgment as he gently guided Kaya back toward the mansion. “Let us take our leave then.”

As they moved, Klahadore glanced back at Y/N, his voice cold professionalism. “Please, Miss Y/N, follow your friends to the guest suites and make yourself presentable for dinner.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at his words but kept her composure, offering a charming smile. “Of course, wouldn’t want to miss the chance to freshen up. After all, first impressions are everything.”

She gave a playful wink before turning on her heel, but not before throwing a quick glance at Kaya, silently promising to check on her later.

After a thorough, very refreshing, and much-needed wash, Y/N made her way to the closet, expecting a modest room with a few spare garments and maybe some accessories to choose from. But as soon as she opened the door, her jaw nearly hit the floor.

The ‘closet’ was an entire room—no, a boutique—bursting at the seams with every kind of clothing imaginable. Silks, satins, velvets, lace, and fabrics she couldn’t even name filled the racks. Gowns, tunics, trousers, and dresses in every color she could dream of. There were shelves dedicated to shoes, from the dainty to the daring, and accessories sparkling like stars under soft light. It was basically the heaven of clothing, and Y/N was living for it.

Her eyes gleamed as she stepped inside, fingers grazing the fabrics, a giddy smile creeping onto her face.

“Oh, I could get used to this…” she muttered, practically vibrating with excitement. She didn’t know where to begin—was it the shoes, the gowns, or that ridiculously luxurious-looking coat hanging in the corner?

However, as the rest of her group entered the ‘closet,’ it became clear that Y/N was the only one genuinely enjoying the experience.

“Why would anyone even need this many clothes?” Luffy asked, his voice echoing off the lavishly adorned walls as Y/N held up yet another dress to inspect.

Nami, behind a divider, was quick to respond. “It’s not about need with these people; it’s about want.”

“What are we even supposed to wear?” Luffy asked, looking utterly baffled as he peered at the colorful array of garments.

Y/N grinned, feeling a spark of mischief. “Literally anything you want, stud. And I say we should take advantage of it because I hardly think you’ll wear wear things this nice in the future.”

She held up a black vest, similar to the ones he usually wears, playfully placing it over his chest and winked. “This one might bring out those dreamy eyes of yours.”

Luffy blinked, momentarily processing, before breaking into a wide, goofy grin. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely!“ Y/N chuckled, giving him a playful nudge. “You could be the life of the party.”

Nami stepped out from behind the divider, her figure adorned in a classic dark blue dress. She struck a pose, looking expectantly at Luffy and Y/N. “Well? What do you think?”

“You look like Nami,” Luffy shrugged, offering a response that did little to boost her confidence.

Nami’s lips pursed in irritation, and she turned to Y/N for a second opinion. Y/N shook her head. “Not your style, pumpkin. We need something that really pops!”

“Hey, Zoro!” Luffy called out, causing Y/N to glance toward the entrance.

Zoro entered, his usual indifference etched on his face. Clad in a bathrobe and holding his three swords, he scanned the room with a nonchalant air.

“What are you gonna wear?” Luffy asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

“Something black,” Zoro replied flatly as he moved deeper into the room.

“How edgy,” Nami muttered sarcastically from behind the divider.

“I don’t know, I reckon I quite like black on him,” Y/N said, slipping into a pretty yellow dress that shimmered in the light.

“Hey, does that butler seem familiar to you guys?” Zoro asked, his gaze drifting toward the door.

Nami shot back, “Yeah, I think he was at the last dinner party I attended.”

“I swear I’ve seen him somewhere,” Zoro continued, taking a seat and placing his swords on the ground beside him.

Nami emerged again, now in another lackluster dress. “How’s this?”

Luffy shrugged, “Still Nami.”

“I said I’m wearing black,” Zoro reiterated, his expression unchanged.

“I hate you guys,” Nami deadpanned.

“Y’know, Zoro, now that you mention it, he does seem oddly familiar,” Y/N chimed in, stepping out from another divider in her eye-catching yellow dress. She looked at Nami and shook her head. “No, baby. That just won’t do. We need something that’ll make a statement —not blend into the wallpaper!”

“You’re all annoying,” Nami huffs as she started to look through the racks of clothes.

With newfound energy, Y/N began rifling through the dresses again, determined to find the perfect outfit for Nami. “Let’s find you something that’ll turn heads!”

"Sadly, Y/N, we're not all you," Nami muttered, half-joking as she skimmed through the rows of clothes.

Y/N gave a playful smirk, flicking through the garments with ease. "Well, darling, not everyone can have my impeccable taste."

As they continued to browse, Luffy wandered aimlessly around the room, his eyes darting from the towering shelves to the endless racks of extravagant outfits. “I kind of feel bad for Kaya,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “All this stuff. All this space. It’s gotta make a person feel… lonely.”

Y/N paused, her hand hovering over a dress. Luffy's innocent observation hung in the air, tugging at a thread of empathy that she hadn’t quite expected to feel in that moment.

"He's got a point," she said softly, glancing around at the grandeur that suddenly felt a bit... empty. "Having all these nice things doesn’t mean much if you don’t have anyone to share it with."

Nami crossed her arms, her tone dry. "Rich people don’t have the same emotions we do. This stuff doesn’t make her feel lonely. It makes her feel important."

Y/N pursed her lips thoughtfully, still not quite buying Nami’s take. Kaya hadn’t struck her as the type to relish in wealth or power, but then again, she’d only just met the girl. “Hmm,” she hummed noncommittally, pulling a sleek red dress off the rack. "Maybe… but she didn’t seem like the ‘money equals importance’ type."

"Well, Usopp likes her," Luffy chimed in, ever the optimist. "And she invited us to dinner!" His eyes sparkled at the mention of food, an unmistakable grin spreading across his face. "I’m sure we can work out a way to get that ship."

Nami didn’t even glance up, still rifling through the endless garments. "No way. Rich people don’t stay rich by giving things away."

Y/N shrugged, holding the dress up to regard it. "She might."

Nami mumbled under her breath, “Hardly.”

But Luffy’s grin only widened as he turned to Nami with a glint in his eyes. "You want to bet?"

That caught Nami’s attention. She stopped mid-search and eyed him with interest. "What are the terms?"

Luffy stepped forward, confident as ever. "I bet I can convince Kaya to give us that ship."

Nami raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And when you can’t?"

Luffy paused for just a second before answering, "We go with your plan. Steal one and move on."

Nami grinned, extending her hand. "You’re on."

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, draping the red dress over her arm. "Oh, goodie. A gentleman’s wager. How refined." She glanced between them with a playful smirk. "I’d start polishing my silver tongue if I were you, Stud."

Nami pulled out another shirt, giving it a brief glance before casually tossing it at Zoro. He caught it effortlessly and looked it over with his usual deadpan expression.

"Nice," Zoro muttered, as if mildly impressed, but not overly excited.

Nami barely had time to react before Y/N swept in like a whirlwind, red dress in hand and that signature mischievous grin plastered across her face. With a teasing flourish, Y/N wiggled the dress toward her like it was the Holy Grail.

"Found something for ya, pumpkin," she teased, voice dripping with playful charm.

Nami raised an eyebrow, eyeing the dress skeptically. "Red? Really?"

"Trust me," Y/N winked, grabbing Nami’s hand and practically dragging her behind the room divider. She positioned her in front of the mirror, standing behind her and holding the dress up to Nami’s frame. The contrast of the vibrant red against Nami’s skin made Y/N’s grin widen.

"See?" Y/N purred, her voice dipping into a whisper as she met Nami's gaze in the reflection. "This dress is the perfect blend of sultry and sophisticated—just like you, Nami. It’ll hug your curves in all the right places and make you look utterly irresistible." She flashed a knowing smile, adding, "Trust me, It’ll make you look like a million Berri."

Nami’s lips twitched, trying and failing to hide a smile. "You're dangerous."

Y/N grinned wider, giving Nami a playful nudge. "Dangerously right, you mean."

Nami, after a moment of staring at Y/N in the reflection, looked away, her gaze darting as if she’d just been caught in a secret. An uncharacteristic hint of pink dusted her cheeks as she took the dress from Y/N. "Fine, whatever. I’ll wear it,"

“Great!” Y/N exclaimed, her grin blooming into a triumphant beam, practically radiating delight. With Nami set, she turned back to the closet, her eyes dancing over the racks like a kid in a candy store. ‘Now, it’s time for me to find something…’

At long last, the four were dressed to the nines, gathered in the grand foyer, waiting for Kaya. Usopp and Luffy were thoroughly enjoying the appetizers, both looking like kids in a candy store as they devoured the tiny, fancy bites with gusto.

Nami, ever the strategist, was busy chatting up Merry, the man who handled Kaya’s finances. He had a peculiar appearance—his hair resembling a lamb’s fleece with two small horns poking through, making him look as though he’d just wandered off a pastoral scene. Despite the odd look,

Zoro, in true Zoro fashion, had found the comfiest spot in the room—a plush sofa—and settled in with a glass of fruity cocktail, his face unreadable as always. He gave off the impression of someone who had no interest in the opulence around him.

Y/N, with her cocktail in hand, decided to join the swordsman, her emerald dress flowing elegantly as she took a seat beside him.

"So, you look... almost civilized," she teased with a playful smirk, swirling her drink as she settled in. "I think that fruity cocktail’s working wonders for your edge."

Zoro scoffed, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Don’t get used to it."

Y/N chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. "Wouldn’t dream of it, hotshot. Though I gotta say, you look unsurprisingly handsome. You might even be mistaken for a gentleman if you stay quiet long enough."

Zoro raised an eyebrow, leaning back into the sofa with an amused grunt. "I’ll take that as an insult." He watched her out of the corner of his eye before adding, "You’re not so bad yourself. That dress looks... expensive."

"Why, thank you, Zoro." Y/N winked at him. "It’s called ‘style'. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but you wear black with enough attitude that I suppose it evens out."

He gave a small chuckle, which was about the closest to a compliment she'd expect from him. The two sat there in a comfortable silence for a moment, watching the others.

"Think this dinner’s going to be as fancy as all this?" Y/N asked, glancing around the opulent surroundings.

Zoro shrugged, taking another sip. "Doesn’t matter to me as long as the food’s good. Fancy or not, it all goes down the same way."

Y/N laughed, raising her glass in agreement. "I’ll drink to that."

A moment later, the soft clearing of a throat at the top of the stairs made the room fall silent. Klahadore, ever the picture of formality, stood tall as he announced, "May I present... Miss Kaya."

All eyes turned upward as Kaya appeared, gracefully descending the stairs with Klahadore’s arm for support. She was dressed in a delicate yellow gown adorned with subtle dots, her face glowing with a wide, genuine smile—one that made Y/N smile as well, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the warmth of the moment or the way Kaya's joy seemed to radiate outwards.

At the bottom of the stairs, Merry stepped forward to meet her. Offering his arm with a soft smile, he said, "Kaya, you look absolutely radiant."

Kaya's smile brightened as she took his arm with familiarity. "Merry, I’m so glad you could make it."

"This is a milestone I wouldn’t miss for the world," Merry replied warmly as they made their way down the last few steps. "Your parents would be so proud."

Kaya’s gaze softened at the mention of her parents, but her expression didn’t falter. She turned toward Nami, who stood somewhat awkwardly nearby. "Nami, I love that dress on you."

"Thanks," Nami responded, though her tone was a bit stiffer than usual.

Kaya gently touched the fabric of the dress, her voice soft with nostalgia."It belonged to my mother. It was one of her favourites."

Nami's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by the sentiment. She started to stumble over an apology, "Oh, I’m sorry. I —"

Kaya interrupted with a kind smile, shaking her head. "Not at all. I’m sure she would agree it suits you splendidly."

Y/N stepped in at that moment, smoothly saving Nami from the awkward tension. With a bright smile, she looked at Kaya. "That she does! And as for you, Kaya—you look absolutely wonderful. Like you just stepped out of a fairytale."

Kaya’s cheeks flushed lightly at the compliment, and she gave a shy smile. "Thank you, Y/N. You’re too kind."

"Nonsense," Y/N waved her hand, "just calling it like I see it. A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl and a beautiful evening, wouldn’t you agree?"

Kaya’s smile softened, clearly touched by Y/N's warmth, as Merry turned to tell Kaya something about the transfer of ownership of the shipyard. Meanwhile, Nami shot Y/N a grateful look, while Y/N simply gave a little playful shrug, as if to say, What can I say? It’s a gift.

"Merry, dear friend, it's always business with you," Klahadore cut in, his voice smooth but firm. Merry nodded, somewhat reluctantly, as if he'd been caught in the middle of a moment. Klahadore’s arm swept elegantly toward the dining room. "Tonight is about celebration. Shall we all move to the dining room?"

"Yes!" Luffy’s voice boomed across the room, his face lighting up with pure excitement. "Oh! Oh, I’m so ready for this!"

Y/N chuckled under her breath at Luffy’s enthusiasm, glancing sideways at Nami. "You’d think he’s never had a meal before."

As the group began to file into the elegantly decorated dining room, Y/N couldn't help but admire the lavish setup. The long table was adorned with pristine white linens and flickering candles, casting a warm glow over the room.

Soon, they were indulging in the delicious spread laid out before them. The table was a feast for the eyes, adorned with an array of vibrant dishes that seemed to dance with colour. Y/N couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh as she took her first bite of a creamy pasta dish, the flavours bursting on her palate.

"I’d love to try the fish tonight," Kaya said, glancing at Sham, the maid, who was holding a platter of food.

But before she could reach for it, Klahadore interjected, "I’m sorry, Miss Kaya, but that is not possible."

Kaya’s smile faltered, and Y/N couldn’t help but frown at the butler’s sharp tone as she took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Maybe just a small piece?" Kaya asked, her voice tinged with hope.

The butler remained unyielding, unlike earlier in the day. "Now, you know that certain foods can affect your constitution," he replied, gesturing for the plump butler to step forward. "Here, Buchi has prepared your special soup."

Kaya’s face fell, despite her attempts to hide her disappointment as the bland soup was placed in front of her.

"Kaya, it’s your birthday," Nami chimed in with a hint of irritation. "You should be able to enjoy whatever you like."

"Miss Kaya’s medical condition necessitates that I closely monitor her dietary needs," Klahadore responded curtly, addressing Nami as if she were overstepping.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she leaned back in her chair, wine glass poised. Her tone was laced with mild sarcasm. "Ah, I see. So you manage her plate… and her voice now, too?"

Luffy, blissfully unaware of the awkwardness building at the table, raised his hand enthusiastically. "I’ll take her fish!"

"Luffy…" Y/N mumbled under her breath, shaking her head softly as if to reign in his bluntness.

Usopp, sensing the awkwardness, piped up nervously while shooting a wary glance at Klahadore. "Luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to Kaya about?"

"Oh, yes!" Luffy’s face lit up as he turned back to Kaya. "Usopp told me you own the whole shipyard!"

Kaya smiled warmly, correcting him gently. "Well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard. Merry’s been running the business since… well, since they passed," She gestured towards Merry, who lifted his glass in quiet acknowledgement.

"But all of that is about to change," Kaya added, her eyes flicking to Usopp with a soft, meaningful glance. "Tonight, at midnight, I’ll officially become the sole owner."

"Ah. Well, that’s great, because we want to buy a ship from you," Luffy announced, his grin wide and infectious.

Kaya raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "I see," she replied, her smile growing. "Usopp mentioned that you’re sailors."

"Nope, not sailors," Luffy corrected quickly, his grin widening. And before Y/N could stop him, he dropped the bombshell. "We’re pirates."

The room seemed to freeze. The air became thick with tension as Usopp nearly choked on his drink, sputtering. Every guest at the table turned to look at Luffy in stunned silence—none more exasperated than Nami, who shot him a look that screamed, Seriously?

Y/N let out a long, resigned sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is going to be a disaster," she muttered, feeling the weight of impending chaos.

Zoro, unfazed, took a slow sip from his cup and muttered under his breath, "This ought to be good."

"Pirates?" Kaya echoed, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and intrigue.

"Yep!" Luffy replied with unrestrained enthusiasm, oblivious to the looks of Nami, Y/N, and Zoro. "We haven’t sailed together for long, but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a Marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe for a hand."

Kaya’s smile widened as she turned to Usopp. "These sound a lot like your adventures, Usopp."

"Yeah, that’s…" Usopp chuckled nervously, stealing a glance at Luffy. "That’s crazy."

"Oh yeah. And we’re just getting started!" Luffy declared, suddenly seizing his wine glass. In an impulsive burst of enthusiasm, he hopped up onto the dining table, eliciting gasps of shock from the guests.

Klahadore’s face darkened with disapproval as he bristled at Luffy’s antics. "What on earth are you doing? Get down from there at once!"

But Luffy, undeterred and brimming with enthusiasm, continued to hold his glass high. "Being a pirate has been my dream for as long as I can remember, and now I’m finally making it a reality!" He stepped closer to Kaya, completely ignoring the bewildered looks from the guests. "We’re heading out to the Grand Line, where even more adventures await us. And at the end of the journey, I’m gonna find the ultimate treasure, the One Piece, and become King of the Pirates!" With a triumphant grin, he took a hearty sip of his wine, completely unfazed by the chaos he was stirring.

He stepped closer to Kaya, completely ignoring the bewildered looks from the rest. "We’re heading out to the Grand Line, where even more adventures await us. And at the end of the journey, I’m gonna find the ultimate treasure, the One Piece, and become King of the Pirates!" With a triumphant grin, he took a hearty sip of his wine, completely unfazed by the chaos he was stirring.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking her head as she watched Luffy’s unyielding spirit shine through. "Well, at least he’s got ambition,"

Kaya gazed up at Luffy, wide-eyed. "You're serious?"

Luffy slammed back the remainder of his wine, then held out the empty glass to Klahadore, who sneered but reluctantly took it. Leaning closer to Kaya, Luffy gripped her shoulders with earnest enthusiasm. "Kaya, you have a beautiful ship out there—a caravel with a sheep figurehead. It spoke to me." Zoro and Nami exchanged exasperated glances, while Y/N couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the sheer audacity of it all.

"That’s the ship we need to follow our dreams," Luffy continued, his eyes shining with determination. "I promise you, we’ll take care of it. We’ll maintain it and treat it like any other member of our crew, because a ship is also a home."

"That will be quite enough!" Klahadore snapped, stepping in beside Kaya with an air of authority. "I should’ve known Usopp would bring riffraff to our doorstep."

"Klahadore, it’s okay. I..." Kaya began, trying to defuse the tension, but a sudden coughing fit interrupted her.

"Now look what you’ve done. You’ve upset Miss Kaya!" Klahadore accused, his irritation palpable. "All of you, out of this house at once!"

Kaya, ever the kind-hearted soul, shook her head weakly, managing to breathe out, "No. It’s late. Let them stay the night."

"As you wish, Miss Kaya," Klahadore relented, though his tone was less than pleased. He assisted her out of the chair and led her from the room, adding, "But they are out first thing in the morning."

"That went pretty well," Luffy remarked as the door clicked shut behind Klahadore, leaving the five of them in the cosy dimness of the room. "Don’t you think?"

Y/N hums before gulping down the rest of her wine. "sure"

Hours later, Y/N lay wide awake, her bladder full and demanding release. She couldn’t help but scoff at the absurdity of it all—a mansion this grand and yet no loo in her room?

Finally deciding to venture out, she crept down the hallway, but instead of finding a bathroom, she stumbled upon a certain orange-haired girl in a curious sight: Nami was stuffing shiny treasures into a pillowcase.

"What are you, the reverse Father Christmas?" Y/N quipped, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smirk.

Nami, startled by the sudden voice, whipped her head around, eyes wide. "Shit, Y/N! You scared me! What are you doing up?"

Y/N shrugged, crossing her arms casually. "You know, just on a midnight quest for a loo. But clearly, I found something far more interesting."

Nami huffed, returning to her task with quick hands. "I’m just borrowing. Besides, they’re not going to notice a few missing trinkets."

"Oh, so you’re playing the long game, huh? Borrow now, return... never?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "If you get caught, I’m not covering for you."

Nami shrugged, a cheeky grin spreading across her face as she continued to stuff the shiny trinkets into her pillowcase. "Who says I’ll get caught? I'm a master of stealth."

"Right, because sneaking around in the middle of the night with a pillowcase full of stolen goods is such a subtle move," Y/N teased, closing her door and following Nami.

Nami paused for a moment, glancing around to ensure they were still alone. "These are just sitting here collecting dust. No one will miss them."

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "You do realize you’re robbing from a girl who just wanted to celebrate her birthday, right?"

"Details, details," Nami waved dismissively, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, it’s not like I’m taking anything valuable… yet."

Y/N smirked, her curiosity piqued. "Okay, but you--"

They suddenly heard footsteps approaching, echoing through the vast halls of the house.

Nami’s eyes widened in panic as she quickly shut the cabinet door "Crap!"

“Quick, come on!” Y/N urged, pulling Nami toward the nearest door. She flung it open and they slipped inside a dark room.

Just as they were about to catch their breath and survey their surroundings, Kaya’s voice startled them.

“Y/N?… Nami?” The lights flicked on, illuminating the room.

Both girls gasped in surprise, and Nami hurriedly concealed the pillowcase behind her back.

“What are you two doing? Is everything okay?” Kaya asked, still unaware of their antics.

"Oh, Kaya!" Y/N exclaimed, feigning a chuckle. "Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep! This house is like a maze, and I couldn't find the loo. So naturally, I enlisted Nami's expert navigating skills, right, Nami?"

"Yeah, we just got a bit turned around," Nami added, trying to sound casual.

Kaya’s gaze drifted behind Nami, landing on the clearly bulging pillowcase. She raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "With a pillowcase?"

Feeling her cheeks heat up, Y/N pursed her lips in embarrassment.

"So… you really are pirates after all," Kaya said, rising from her bed. Her demeanour was calm, not angry or frightened.

"No," Y/N quickly denied.

"I hate pirates," Nami chimed in, her tone dripping with disdain. "But I am who I am," She declared, setting the pillowcase down defiantly. "And I won’t apologize for it."

Y/N pursed her lips and sighed, taking a seat on the window sofa. "Can’t put it much better than that."

Kaya let out a light chuckle as she settled beside Y/N. "To be honest, I find some of the decor to be a bit gaudy. I’d prefer to donate it to charity."

Nami bristled at that. "We’re not charity."

/N waved her hand dismissively. "Relax, Pumpkin. I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way, right?"

Kaya quickly shook her head. "No, of course not. I just think, what’s the point of having so much if you can’t share it with others? Like those in need—family... friends."

"So we’re friends now?" Nami asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course we are."

Nami turned to Y/N, motioning toward Kaya. "But she doesn't even know me!"

Kaya shrugs thoughtfully. "Usopp and Y/N do, and that’s a start.

Nami frowned slightly, but Y/N patted the space beside her with a playful grin. "Come on, Pumpkin, let's bond."

Nami rolled her eyes at Y/N's antics but eventually settled down next to her. "So what do we do now? Have a sleepover? Do each other’s makeup?"

Y/N smirked, leaning closer. "Only if you promise to let me go wild with the glitter. We can start with—" Y/N began, but was interrupted by Kaya's coughing.

"Kaya, are you okay?" Nami asked, concern etching her features.

Y/N placed a hand on Kaya's back. "Should I get you some water or something?"

Kaya stopped coughing and looked at the girls, shaking her head. "Not you too."

"What?" Y/N frowned in confusion, sharing a puzzled glance with Nami.

Kaya sighed. "Everyone’s so careful around me. Like one wrong move and I’ll break." She looked between the girls. "I don’t want your pity."

"Well, you won’t get it then," Nami said, with a small grin.

"No pity here, just friendship," Y/N shrugged, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. "And as friends, you ought to tell us what is going on between you and Usoppppp."

"Is he your boyfriend?" Nami grins.

"Oh. Um…" Kaya chuckled, glancing between the girls. "Usopp and I? No, no. We’ve known each other for years. Ever since his mother passed away, he didn’t have anyone, so my parents gave him a job at the shipyard." Her smile grew a little wider as she continued, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. "He likes to come around and tell me all about his brave exploits and grand adventures. And the truth is, they make me feel better."

Y/N leaned in, a teasing grin on her face. "So, it’s like Usopp is your personal bard, spinning tales to lift your spirits? I can see how that’d be comforting."

Kaya chuckles, "After my parents... he was able to make me smile again."

"Your parents, what happened to them?" Nami asked, her voice softening.

Kaya’s eyes instantly glistened with unshed tears, and Y/N could see this was a sensitive subject. "They, um… They died at sea. After all these years, it still takes my breath away. I couldn’t even go through their belongings. Just… locked up the memories in the East Wing, where their bedroom was."

"I’m so sorry," Nami said softly, echoing Y/N's thoughts. She understood the weight of loss, grief, and the pain that lingered.

"Have you ever lost anyone close to you?" Kaya inquired, her gaze searching.

"No," Nami replied, her voice steady but filled with empathy.

Y/N paused for a moment, her heart heavy. "Yes," she said softly.

Y/N and Kaya shared a look of understanding, a silent acknowledgement of their shared pain. The bond of loss wove them closer together in that quiet moment, as they realized they were not alone in their experiences.

Kaya, after a moment of quiet, turned to Nami with a small smile. "Well, I’m jealous of you, Nami."

Nami scoffed, her eyebrow raised. "Said the rich girl."

Kaya chuckled at the response, shaking her head before looking directly at her. "You’re not very good at this friends thing, are you?"

Y/N grinned at the exchange, nudging Nami playfully. "She’s a tough nut to crack, but trust me, she’s definitely worth it."

The three of them shared a laugh, the tension lifting as they bonded in their own quirky way.

Kaya let out a soft yawn, clearly indicating how late it had gotten. Y/N smirked, her eyes glinting with playful amusement. "Need your beauty sleep, princess?"

Kaya chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "I suppose I do," she admitted, rubbing her eyes. "Though I’m not sure how much help it’ll be."

"Trust me," Y/N grinned, "you're already glowing."

Nami rolled her eyes, but even she smiled a little at Y/N’s cheeky comment. "We should get going though,"

Y/N stood up, stretching a bit before nodding. "That we should. I still need a loo."

Kaya chuckled, pointing down the hall. "Down the hall on the left."

As she made her way to her bed, Kaya added, "Why don’t you two join me for breakfast tomorrow? Your friends too. We can discuss a deal for the caravel."

"Yeah, that’ll be great." Y/N smiled, starting to walk away, but she paused when Nami spoke again.

"This may not be my place," Nami said, glancing back at Kaya, "but don’t let Klahadore or anyone run your life. You’re stronger than you think."

Kaya smiled softly at the sentiment. "I appreciate that."

"Good night, Nami, Y/N," she called out as she settled under her blankets.

"Good night," Nami replied with a small smile.

"Night, Kaya," Y/N added with a wink.

As they reached the door, Kaya called after them with a grin, "Don’t forget your pillow."

Nami took the pillowcase as she, Kaya and Y/N chuckled softly. Once they were outside the room, Nami halted and pulled something out of the pillowcase—a small box of some sort—and placed it on a nearby table. Y/N grinned at her, clearly amused.

Nami noticed the grin and rolled her eyes. "What?" she asked, her tone exasperated.

Y/N shrugged, still smiling. “Funny how a little girl talk can literally change people.”

“Shut up,” Nami muttered, giving Y/N a playful push. “Besides, Kaya’s just an exception.”

Y/N laughed, her teasing grin only growing wider. "Sure, pumpkin, whatever you say. How about you and I go for a midnight snack?"

"I could eat," Nami shrugs aimlessly.

"Right, you go find the kitchen while I find the loo because I'm about to explode," Y/N told the girls she was already on her way to the bathroom.

Nami shook her head with a smirk. “Alright, see you in the kitchen—if I don’t get lost first.”

"Shut up,"

After using the fancy loo, Y/N strolled into the kitchen, her usual playful grin in place. "Can you believe they have hyacinth-scented soap here? I mean, if you're going to steal something, might as well go for—"

Her words came to an abrupt halt when she noticed it wasn’t Nami in the kitchen. No, standing there were the butlers—Klahadore, Buchi, and the maid, Sham. And on the table, laid out unconscious, was Luffy.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she took in the scene. Klahadore turned slowly toward her, his expression cold and calculating.

“Well, it seems we have an unexpected guest,” Klahadore said with a chilling smile, the air growing tense.

"Shit," Y/N muttered under her breath, instinctively taking a step back. Her heart raced as she quickly realized she had walked straight into something dangerous. It didn’t take a genius to know the butlers were up to no good.

"Now, now," Klahadore cooed, "there’s no need to make a fuss."

"Too late for that," Y/N shot him a defiant look before bolting for the door.

However, Y/N didn’t make it far. Just as she turned to run, Klahadore seemed to teleport, appearing in front of her in an instant.

She gasped, heart pounding as she spun back around, desperate to escape. But before she could even take a step, a sharp blow struck the side of her head. Pain exploded behind her eyes, and everything went dark as her body crumpled to the floor.

The next time Y/N opened her eyes, the first thing she saw wasn’t Zoro’s concerned face but the dark, starry sky above. The cool night air hit her skin, and the faint sound of crickets chirping filled the quiet. She blinked, disoriented, before realizing she was lying on the cold, hard ground outside, near an old stone well.

"Oi, wake up," Zoro’s familiar gruff voice cut through the haze, accompanied by another tap, harder this time.

Y/N blinked and squinted, barely making out his face against the moonlit sky. “Zoro?” she muttered, trying to sit up.

“Yeah, it’s me. You good, or you need another nap?” he asked, crossing his arms, his expression unbothered but with a hint of concern in his eyes.

Y/N groaned as she sat up, feeling the cold stone of the well against her back. “Where are we?”

“Outside. Near the well behind the mansion. I found you knocked out cold.”

“Gee, thanks for stating the obvious,” she muttered, rubbing her temple. “What the hell happened?”

Zoro knelt down beside her, his tone growing more serious. “Klahadore isn’t just some butler. He’s Kuro—Captain Kuro of the Black Cat Pirates. That bastard’s been hiding out here, playing the good servant. That psycho’s got some plan involving Kaya-"

Y/N's heart raced as she shot up to her feet, ignoring the dizziness that washed over her. "Luffy—he was passed out! And Nami—she was supposed to be in the kitchen. They’re in there with those psychos. We have to go back!"

Zoro’s expression darkened as he drew one of his swords, the steely glint catching the moonlight. "Then let's go. No time to waste."

Despite the pounding in her head, Y/N steadied herself, determination fueling her. She nodded, and the two of them sprinted toward the mansion. The eerie quiet of the night only heightened the sense of urgency, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestone path.

As they neared the mansion, Y/N and Zoro began to hear voices, the two exchanged a glance as they crept closer, the voices becoming unmistakably clearer.

"Father always said, 'Dead pirate weighs the same as a live one,'" came the cocky, irritating voice that Y/N instantly recognized. Helmeppo.

"Garp gave us strict orders," a softer, more hesitant voice responded, trying to reason with him.

"He gave you strict orders," Helmeppo sneered as Y/N and Zoro finally reached the scene. Helmeppo stood there, holding a gun to Luffy, "Start walking, pirate, or die."

Zoro wasted no time. He was a blur of movement, taking out the two marines flanking Helmeppo with effortless precision. They hit the ground before they could even register what had happened.

As groans filled the air, Helmeppo and the kind boy Kobi she had met before turned to face Y/N and Zoro. The smug look on Helmeppo's face faded quickly when he saw them approach.

Y/N crossed her arms, a dangerous smirk tugging at her lips. "Gotta say, you picked the wrong night to be an idiot, Helmeppo. But then again, that's just who you are."

"Zoro! Y/N!" Luffy called out excitedly, as though he hadn’t been held at gunpoint just seconds earlier.

Zoro strode forward with his usual calm, while Y/N rushed to Luffy's side, giving Helmeppo a quick but satisfying punch that knocked him out cold.

"How’d you two know where to find me?" Luffy asked, a huge grin on his face.

"We didn’t, stud," Y/N replied, helping him up. "We thought we were headed to the house." Her nose scrunched up as she noticed the blue barf near Luffy and and instinctively wiped some goo from his face with her sleeve, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine now," Luffy smiled, his usual carefree attitude shining through as he began to make his way back to the house. "Come on!"

Y/N and Zoro exchanged a glance before following Luffy, but their steps were halted by Koby.

"Hold it right there!" he called, his voice firm. "By order of the Marines, I’m placing you under arrest."

"Koby…" Luffy took a step forward, a small grin creeping onto his face, but it quickly transformed into a more serious demeanor. "I know you’ve got a job to do… but I’m gonna go back and help my friends. So don’t try to stop me."

Koby hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face as he looked at Luffy. It was clear he was torn between duty and friendship but he remained rooted to the spot, conflicted, as the three of them dashed into the shadows of the mansion, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping. They needed to save their friends, and nothing was going to stop them now.

When the trio reached the house, they quickly noticed the heavy metal covering the door, effectively barricading them from entering. Y/N felt a surge of frustration, but before she could voice it, Zoro stepped forward with a determined look in his eyes.

“Step aside,” he said. Zoro squared his stance, gripping the edge of the metal barrier. With a powerful grunt, he heaved against it with all his might.

To her astonishment, the metal slid upwards with a loud screech, revealing the entrance. Without hesitating, she quickly shoved a nearby statue beneath the opening to keep it in place and with a swift kick, she propelled the wooden door open, and it swung inward with a thud, revealing the interior of the mansion.

Luffy stepped inside, followed closely by Y/N and Zoro. The three of them paused in the foyer, taking in the surroundings. The air was thick with tension, shadows stretching across the walls as the faint light flickered from the ornate chandelier above.

“I need to grab my fans from my room,” Y/N said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Luffy nodded, his determination unwavering. “Let’s split up.”

Zoro and Y/N exchanged glances before also nodding in agreement. Without wasting another moment, the trio took off in different directions. Luffy headed upstairs, while Zoro moved toward the kitchens, every step echoing with purpose. Y/N made her way to the guest wing, her heart racing as she recalled the location of her weapons.

As she dashed down the corridor, the silence of the mansion felt oppressive, every creak of the floorboards amplifying her anxiety. She finally reached her room and pushed the door open, relief flooding through her as she spotted her fans resting on the dresser.

“Got you!” she whispered to herself, snatching them up and flipping them open, the familiar weight comforting in her hands. With her weapons secured, she turned to leave, but a noise from the hallway caught her attention.

Holding her breath, Y/N peered out into the corridor, her war fans gripped tightly in her hands, poised defensively. The dim hallway stretched before her,

Holding her breath, Y/N peered out into the corridor, her war fans gripped tightly in her hands, poised defensively. The dim hallway stretched before her, shadows danced along the walls.

She scanned the area, her senses heightened, every creak echoing ominously in her ears. The silence felt almost tangible, pressing against her as she waited for any sign of movement. Just as she was about to step out, a creak from behind made her whip around.

Standing there was Bushi, the plump butler from earlier, draped in an absurd cat-like costume complete with a cape. His beady eyes gleamed in the low light, and a smirk spread across his face, giving him an almost sinister air.

"Of all designs, that's the one you chose?" Y/N scoffed, laughter bubbling up despite the tension.

Bushi smirked, revealing sharp canine-like teeth as he brandished two blades from behind his back. "It comes with perks,"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful grin still on her face, but her stance was ready. “Perks, huh? I guess you must feel pretty fancy in that ugly getup." With a swift motion, she opened her war fan, the edges glinting ominously. “Shift it, mongrel.”

The butler lunged forward, and Y/N expertly sidestepped, feeling the rush of air as his blade sliced through the space she had just occupied. In one fluid motion, she spun around, bringing her war fan down with precision aimed at his wrist.

Bushi barely raised his other blade in time, the metallic clash ringing out as sparks flew from the impact. He grinned, lunging again, but Y/N ducked low, her fan cutting through the air as she aimed for his legs.

He jumped back, narrowly escaping. With a swift kick, Y/N drove him against the wall, the force of her strike causing him to grunt.

“You’ll pay for that!” he snarled, lunging at her with renewed ferocity. Y/N raised her fan just in time to block the incoming strike, their blades clashing once more.

Using the momentum, she pushed off his blade and leaped into the air, executing a graceful flip. As she landed, she swung the fan down toward him like a blade.

Bushi rolled out of the way, regaining his balance as Y/N charged again. He swung at her, but she ducked and sidestepped, moving with agility. She slashed at him, the fan cutting through the air, forcing him to backpedal.

As they danced around each other, the sound of metal on metal echoed through the hallway, tension thickening the air. Y/N felt the adrenaline surge, her instincts kicking in as she prepared for the next move.

Bushi lunged, but she pivoted, dodging and countering with a swift strike aimed at his midsection. He barely blocked it, gritting his teeth as they continued to clash, each movement fluid and aggressive.

Finally, Y/N saw an opening. With a quick flick of her wrist, she sent her fan spiraling toward his face, momentarily stunning him. In that split second, she charged forward, delivering a powerful kick that sent him crashing to the ground.

As Y/N caught her breath, she glanced around the dimly lit hallway, scanning for any additional threats. But before she could take a step, Bushi sprang back to his feet, eyes narrowed with determination.

“Not done yet!” he growled.

The butler lunged again, and Y/N met his charge with a swift deflection of her fan. The two danced around the narrow space of the staircase, trading blows as they fought against the railing.

Bushi swung his blades, forcing Y/N to duck and weave, her instincts sharp. She retaliated with a swift jab of her fan, catching him in the side. He stumbled, growling in frustration, but quickly regained his footing, the glint of his sharp canines reflecting the dim light.

Y/N could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she adjusted her stance, her fan poised for the next move. Bushi lunged again, blades slicing through the air, and she narrowly avoided the attack by pivoting to the side, the tips of his weapons barely grazing her. The narrowness of the staircase forced them into a tight rhythm, each movement calculated and precise.

Bushi spun low, attempting a sweeping strike at her legs. Y/N leapt back, her heart pounding, and then retaliated with a powerful jab of her fan into his shoulder. The impact sent him reeling against the railing, his balance faltering for just a moment.

Seizing the opportunity, Y/N launched forward, her movements fluid and fierce. With a well-aimed kick to his midsection, she sent him crashing through the railing. The sound of splintering wood echoed in the hallway as he plummeted down into the foyer below.

Y/N glanced down at the foyer, her eyes locking with Zoro, who had just dispatched the maid, Sham.

"Impressive finishing move," Zoro remarked, sheathing his swords with a casual air.

Y/N grinned, tilting her head in playful acknowledgment."What can I say? It’s hard not to show off when I’m surrounded by such unimpressive company. Now, let’s find something to restrain them with—preferably something more effective than their fashion choices."

Sooner rather than later, to Y/N's relief, Kaya, Nami, Usopp, and Luffy emerged from the upper levels, sporting only a few scratches but no serious injuries.

"Oh, thank the stars," Y/N exclaimed, her heart settling at the sight of them. "Looks like you all survived the thrilling experience of fighting off shit butlers and overly dramatic maids."

Zoro swung open the main door, allowing the bright morning light to flood into the dim foyer.

Nami rolled her eyes but there was a shinning in her eyes of relief and amusment. "You missed all the fun, Y/N."

"Fun?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on her lips. "You mean the kind of fun that comes with questionable service choices and bad manners?"

Both girls exchanged grins, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Zoro remarked to Kaya, his tone devoid of any regret. “You probably need some new staff.”

“I think I’m done with staff for a bit,” Kaya replied, her gaze lingering on her former cook and maid, now tied on the floor.

“Too bad we can’t collect their bounty,” Zoro sighed, arms crossed.

Nami jumped in, her frustration bubbling over. “No. No. The Marines already know where we are. We have to get out of here.”

Y/N pursed her lips, glancing around the room. “We don't have nowhere to go,"

"Nor a ship," Luffy added.

"Yes, you do." Kaya said, catching them all off guard.

The atmosphere shifted as the realization sank in, and grins spread across their faces. They knew she was about to gift them the very ship they had set out for—the one that had led them into this chaotic mess.

Y/N smirked at Luffy, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Congratulations, stud. Looks like you won the bet."

Luffy returned her smirk, his playful spirit shining through, before glancing at Nami, who rolled her eyes.

After everything that had transpired, the six of them stood before the ship, its elegant lamb bow glimmering in the sunlight.

"Wow," Luffy exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe. "That looks just like your lawyer friend."

Kaya smiled softly, nostalgia washing over her. "Merry ran the shipyard after my parents passed. He was their dearest colleague and my oldest companion."

"Then his memory will live on, "Luffy declared, "I hereby name this ship the Going Merry!"

Kaya smiled warmly, her eyes shining with pride. “It’s yours now. Your new home.”

“Thank you, Kaya,” Luffy replied, his voice full of genuine gratitude. Then, with a burst of energy, he thrust his fist into the air. “Whoo! Yeah! We did it!”

Without warning, Luffy leaped at Y/N, Nami, and Zoro, pulling them into a bone-crushing hug.

Y/N laughed, feeling the warmth of Luffy’s infectious happiness wash over her. “That we did!”

As they broke apart, no matter how hard she tried not to, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning of something truly extraordinary or horrifying.

"Usopp!" Luffy suddenly called, causing everyone to turn their heads toward the boy.

Luffy approached him with that signature grin. "What are you waiting for? Get your stuff."

"What stuff?" Usopp asked, clearly confused.

"You’re coming with us. Right?" Luffy said with a grin that suggested he already knew the answer.

"What?" Usopp stammered. "Uh… uh… No. I… I couldn’t."

"Don't make him beg, champ," Y/N teased with a playful wink.

“I’m gonna need a great sharpshooter,” Luffy added, leaning in confidently. “Just like Yasopp. And I saw what you did back there--sticking up for your friends. That’s exactly the kind of guy I need on my crew.”

Usopp hesitated, his gaze flicking to Kaya. "But… I couldn’t leave Syrup Village. What… what about Kaya?" His voice wavered as he looked at her. "She needs me to take care of her."

Kaya stepped forward, her expression gentle. "Usopp, you’ve been a great friend," she said, taking his hand. "But I think it’s time I start taking care of myself."

"But I said I’d never leave you," Usopp protested, his frown deepening. "And don’t you need help with the shipyard?"

Nami, Y/N, and Zoro quietly made their way to stand beside Luffy, content to watch the moment unfold between Usopp and Kaya.

"The shipyard was my parents’ dream," Kaya said softly, her eyes warm as they met Usopp's. "I think I might do something different. Like study to become a doctor."

"So… I guess this is goodbye," Usopp said slowly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Kaya squeezed his hands, offering him a soft, encouraging smile. "I’ll see you again someday. And when I do, I expect to hear all about the real adventures of Captain Usopp."

Much to Usopp's surprise—and to no one else's—Kaya leaned in and kissed him. It was a tender moment, prompting the spectators to avert their eyes… except for Luffy, who frowned in confusion.

"They… they do know I’m the captain, right?"

Nami patted Luffy on the shoulder. "Let them have this one,"

Y/N grinned, nudging Luffy playfully. "Besides, you’ll get your moment, stud. Maybe with less kissing though, but who knows." she winks at him.

And just like that, they were out at sea again—this time, however, with a new friend and a real ship beneath their feet. The Going Merry cut through the waves with ease, her elegant lamb figurehead gleaming in the sunlight.

And then, they were out on the open sea again, this time with a new crewmate and a real ship beneath their feet. The Going Merry glided effortlessly over the waves, its lamb figurehead leading the way toward new adventures.

Y/N leaned against the railing, gazing out at the endless blue ocean. The sun warmed her skin while the salty breeze danced through her white hair, tousling it playfully. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the serenity of the sea wash over her, giving her a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt in a long time.

A sudden shout nearly made Y/N jump out of her skin, snapping her attention to the bow of the ship. She couldn’t help but snicker as she spotted Luffy, perched at the top of the lamb’s head, waving his straw hat with pure joy. His wide grin was infectious, and the sight of him celebrating like a carefree kid brought a warmth to her chest.

He was so ridiculously happy, as if he’d just discovered the greatest treasure in the world, and for a second, Y/N envied his simplicity—his ability to find joy in the smallest things, no matter the chaos surrounding them.

Looking back at the ocean, a quiet hope took root inside her. This might actually work. The thought of reuniting with her sister felt closer than ever, and the mere possibility made her smile.

A lively melody echoed around the ship's gallery, and Y/N ran her fingers over the guitar strings, crafting an upbeat tune that danced with the rhythm of the waves.

In Syrup Village, where dreams took flight, Lived young Kaya, shining so bright. But Kuro the Cat, with a sinister crew, Plotted to take her, oh, what would they do?

Then we arrived, with laughter and cheer, “Don’t worry, dear Kaya! Your heroes are here!--”

"We did not arrive with laughter and cheer," Nami scoffs from beside Y/N, interrupting the ballad.

Y/N rolls her eyes, a playful grin on her face. "Shush, it rhymes! Besides, artistic license!"

Nami crossed her arms. "More like a disaster in the making."

"Focus on the song, not the flaws," Zoro mutters from her other side, his voice low yet steady.

Y/N scoffs at him, "Excuse me, but my ballad doesn't have any flaws."

Luffy, grinned wide as he ate some fruit. "I like it! Keep going!"

With a theatrical sigh, Y/N continued, her fingers dancing over the guitar strings.

“Thank you, brave souls!” Kaya smiled wide, “I’ve got a surprise—come take a ride!” With joy in her heart, she gave them the key, To the Going Merry, as grand as could be!

"And that’s the end of my masterpiece," Y/N said with a playful shrug, her grin wide.

Nami shook her head, unable to suppress her smile. "You're utterly ridiculous, you know that?"

“Ridiculously talented, you mean!” Luffy exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious. He turned to Y/N, beaming. "Can you whip up one about each of us?"

"Only if the muse strikes me just right," Y/N replied.

“Guys! You’ve got to see this!” Usopp burst into the room, proudly draping a black mantle over his shoulders. “Behold my unparalleled artistic genius!” He positioned Luffy to hold the flag aloft. “Ta-da!” The flag showcased a cartoonish skull with exaggerated features reminiscent of Usopp himself.

Usopp chuckled at his creation, but the room fell into silence, the others unsure how to react.

“I know, I know,” he said, breaking the quiet. “My flair for design often leaves people speechless.”

Luffy, unfazed, closed the flag and handed it back to Usopp with a cheeky grin. "I already drew our flag."

"Okay, but this one is way cooler!" Usopp insisted, trying again.

Zoro interjected, his tone deadpan, "Neither of those flags are gonna scare anyone off."

"Well, the Jolly Roger is supposed to reflect the captain," Usopp argued, wrapping the flag around himself like a cape.

Luffy leaned in closer, a playful spark in his eyes. "I am the captain. We are the Straw Hat crew."

"They call me Captain Usopp!" Usopp declared dramatically.

"I’m the captain. Me, captain. Captain, me."

"The captain is the one who gets the ship and knows the most about sailing," Usopp countered, trying to hold his ground.

"I am…"

Their ridiculous bickering over who truly held the title of captain was so absurd that even Nami couldn’t help but chuckle. Y/N exchanged amused glances with her, and soon the whole crew was laughing along.

Luffy beamed as he patted Usopp on the back, his excitement radiating through the room. "You see? This is what it’s all about!" He leaned in closer, confidence oozing from him. "From now on, it’s all gonna be smooth sailing."

Just as his words hung in the air, a thunderous boom erupted from outside, causing everyone to exchange puzzled glances. Before they could react, another explosion shook the ship, this time sending a tremor beneath their feet.

"What was that?" Usopp asks as he holds into Luffy.

Y/N cursed under her breath, instinctively reaching for her weapons. "Cannonballs!

Nami set her drink down with a frustrated sigh, rising to her feet. "You had to open your mouth," she shot at Luffy, just as the sound of cannon fire rattled the ship again.

The crew scrambled outside, eyes widening as they took in the sight before them. A Marine ship just behind them, cannons poised and ready for another strike.

"Marines! We’re under attack!" Nami shouted, her voice laced with urgency as another cannonball soared perilously close.

Y/N felt a sense of dread wash over her, but what came next was entirely unexpected. Luffy, the boy who prided himself on being a pirate, who declared his dreams of becoming the King of the Pirates with fervor, said;

“Grandpa?”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love. Be safe.

Also, tell me if you want to get tagged.

Divider by @cafekitsune

[gunsandspaceships]

Many degrees of Doctor Stark

It is widely known that 616 Tony has several doctorates. The number varies from 3 to 7, but it doesn't really matter whether he is 300 or 700% Doctor. He is one. And he doesn’t use his title 99.999% of the time.

Ok, but what about the MCU?

It is never mentioned whether Tony has a PhD or even a master's degree. Kinda weird. Both the absence of mentions and lack of degrees, since Tony is so smart and productive.

Let’s check, maybe he actually has some.

Here we have a file from a deleted scene from The Avengers (2012):

As we can see, the work is sloppy – there are inaccuracies in his hair color (it’s not black, it’s brown), and the fact that he speaks French was not included. Can we rely on this paper? Let’s not 100%, but we can still use things that don't contradict the movies.

The fact that he received his BS in Engineering from MIT does not contradict this, so we can mark it as valid. He started in 1984 when he was 14 years old and graduated in 1987 when he was 17.

We see no further education in the file. But we know something that this file doesn’t. We watched the movies.

Remember, in Civil War at 0:13:25, in the scene where Tony sees his parents for the last time, Maria tells Howard, “Be nice, dear, he’s been studying abroad”. Tony is 21 here, this is December 16, 1991. Looks like he is on winter break.

But wait… Didn’t he graduate in 1987 and stop then? Well, Maria tells us he continued.

Between 17 and 21 there are 4 years. What could he have done in these 4 years? A lot, right? He is smart and productive, we know that. A master’s degree usually takes 2 years. Tony could earn it in 1. 1 or 2, we still have 2-3 years that we need to fill with some kind of studying. I doubt he just went back and got another bachelor's or master's. That said, he was working on his PhD.

We don't know where. “Abroad” is a very broad concept. Maybe he went to Europe to study at Oxford? We do not know. Perhaps he stayed at MIT and just went somewhere else for the fall semester. We do not know. But he did go somewhere for (most probably) a PhD.

The question is: did he finish it?

Well, his parents died in Dec 1991, and we know from the first Iron Man (0:04:50) that Stane was the interim president of Stark Industries from that date until 1992. Most likely, Tony became CEO before his birthday, that is, May 29, which corresponds to the stated age of 21. He had a few months between.

We don’t know where he was in his degree at that time. But we know he is smart and productive. He doesn’t need 4 years to write a dissertation.

So, there are 2 options:

1) He did not complete his doctorate and devoted himself entirely to the company;

2) He completed it in the few months he had and then took over the company.

Here’s the evidence for the second option:

“Confusing matters more, a recently deleted LinkedIn profile for Tony Stark indicated he received doctorates in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.”

Source: https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Given all the information and analysis we have, as well as a little logic, we can conclude that Tony has a Ph.D. Even two. He had time to do them. Why doesn't he use his title? Well, maybe for the same reason 616 Tony doesn’t? He doesn’t usually brag. Check out this post if you have any doubts about my statement.

Here are some additional hints:

He gave lectures at scientific conferences (IM1 and IM3 - Bern 1999).

His scientific expertise was not limited to engineering and his company's affairs (all the movies, but specifically I can point you to IM3– the scene with Maya Hansen and her Extremis-enhanced plants in Bern).

“He must have graduated after 1990, because the '90 Brass rat was the first one with the skyline on the edge.” MIT alumni commentary https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Conclusion (actual): call him Doctor Stark, guys, he deserves it. Despite his modesty about his scientific achievements, Dr Stark has a couple of master's degrees and at least two PhD degrees in the MCU - in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.

[micamicster]

Super Rich Kids

Close my eyes and feel the crash...

I wrote this one on post-its on a trans-continental flight after my phone (where i was re-reading the raven cycle) died. 0/10 plane experience would not recommend but I did manage to entertain myself! And now hopefully you as well!

When Ronan pulled into Monmouth Manufacturing he knew Gansey wouldn’t be there. Adam Parrish was, though, sitting on the steps in the golden afternoon light, bike dumped to the side in dying grass. He didn’t so much as flicker an eyelid when Ronan bootlegged the BMW into an approximation of parking on the far side of the lot, which was fine because that’s how he would have parked the car anyway, whether or not Adam was here.

Ronan was pretty sure that Gansey had arranged a shift system with the other boys, to prevent Ronan from being unaccompanied on the rare occasions of his own absence. The idea of a babysitter should have rankled Ronan, but Adam did not seem particularly invested in his role. Small favors.

As he got out of the car he gave Adam his customary once-over, as brief as it was habitual. You could notice a lot in a single glance, if you were Ronan, glancing at Adam.

Adam was wearing long sleeves (his father? Or just because it was October?) and his faded camo pants, the ones Ronan said made him look like a jingoistic meathead. They had recently acquired a tear in one knee. Not in the stylish, deliberate manner in which Ronan’s own jeans were shredded, but awkwardly, in an L-shape, where they had caught on some jagged edge and given way before even careful Adam had noticed and unhooked himself. The tear gaped open at times, like it was doing now, revealing Adam’s knobby left knee and, worse, a triangle of his brown thigh.

Ronan looked away.

Ronan never allowed himself, even in dreams, to trespass beyond the carefully demarcated boundaries of Adam’s clothes. And Adam was usually helpful in the maintenance of this boundary. Unlike Gansey, who could be found working on his model Henrietta in boxers at all hours of the night, or wandering to and from the shower in a towel, absent-mindedly forgetting his clothes in bathroom or bedroom. Unlike the boys Ronan played tennis with, who stripped down casually in the locker room after practice. Unlike even Ronan himself, who’d never met a shirt he couldn’t rip the sleeves off; Adam was always fully covered.

This summer, foolishly, Ronan had imagined that this might change. Now that the hideous secrets Adam protected with his long sleeves were no longer his alone. But by now he knew what kept those sleeves in place, something that Adam had already understood: that knowing and seeing are two very different things.

For example: this. Ronan knew that Adam, like most people who walked around on earth under their own power, possessed thighs. Two of them, attached in the normal way to other body parts, such as knees and hips. To know this was one thing.

Now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t stop seeing it. The way his knee bent, and the muscle above shifted as Adam made room on the steps for him. Ronan was looking away, out at the familiar, grounding, skid marks on the concrete of Monmouth’s lot, but he could picture in their place with deadly accuracy the hinge of Adam’s knee, the tanned skin of his thigh, scattered with golden-brown hair. He could dream about pressing his face against it.

He picked up a rock and hurled it. It glanced off the side of the soulless suburban and fell anticlimactically into the grass dying by the rear tire. It didn’t help.

Adam shifted next to him, subtly.

“What?” said Ronan. “Impressed?”

“Surprised, more like. I thought you were supposed to be the tennis star.”

“You think you can do better?” Ronan pried another hunk of gravel or concrete out of the dirt and tossed it in his left hand, tauntingly.

“I know I can.”

“But?”

“But,” said Adam, with some hint of exasperation coloring his voice, “I’m not going to sit here chunking rocks at Gansey’s car to prove it. My ego’s not that fragile.” His accent slipped out on chunkin’, not as if Ronan had pissed him off enough to forget to hide it, but as if it was a word he’d never used any other way.

Ronan threw his rock again. This was, if anything, a worse throw than before, and it skittered harmlessly across the suburban’s roof.

Adam made a small but contemptuous noise.

“Don’t give me that shit, man. You know he hates this fucking car.”

“That was for your shitty aim.”

“Come on then.” Ronan hefted another piece of gravel. “Ten points if you knock out his taillight.”

“It costs a hundred and five dollars to replace a taillight on that make and model. Plus tax.”

Ronan’s brief cheer was collapsing again. “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to bust Dick’s lights.”

Adam blinked slowly, his dusty eyelashes obscuring the contempt in his eyes for a brief moment. “I’ll leave.” (He wouldn’t).

Ronan dropped the rock. Next to him Adam sighed. Abruptly, he put out his hand. “Telephone pole. Six feet from the top.”

Ronan swept back up the rock and dropped it into his hand. Their fingers did not touch. His heart thudded.

Adam tossed the rock once, testing its weight while his gaze, cool and assessing, remained on the telephone pole. It was a splintered, tilting thing, shamed by his attentions. In one smooth, economical movement, he rose to his feet and let the rock fly. His leg went forward, knee jutting out of his clothes, his back curved, and his arm swept around in an arc, fingers scraping at the blue October sky. Ronan didn’t need to turn his head to know if the rock hit—he could see it in the brief hard satisfaction on Adam’s face.

Adam turned back to him, one eyebrow cocked.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to earn that hundred,”

Adam shrugged. The gesture was disinterested, but there was a quirk to his mouth that contradicted it. “I know nothing blew up, but…”

Ronan already had another rock in his hand. “West corner lightbulb. It breaks or it doesn’t count.” Adam rolled his eyes, but turned agreeably to watch Ronan miss.

“Would you like to get your tennis racket?”

“Eat me,” said Ronan. (Maybe).

They traded shots back and forth for a while, calling increasingly specific and complex plays.

“Bullshit. Bullshit.”

“Get the government to pay for some glasses, Parrish, and then come back and try to tell me that wasn’t a fucking bullseye—”

“It wasn’t even close! You—”

“You calling me a liar?” Ronan loomed, and Adam, as usual, was unimpressed.

“Just because you don’t lie doesn’t make you right all the time! Like when you said that quote on Tuesday was Seneca. It doesn’t stop being Martial just because you’ve got a child’s sense of morality—”

“See, right there.” Ronan pointed triumphantly at an invisible scuff mark on the doorsill, marking where his handful of gravel had made impact.

Adam gave it a skeptical glance. His face was faintly flushed from exertion in the cold air, but his eyes were as cool and considering as ever. “What we need,” he said, “is a knife.”

Ronan was not allowed knives.

~

“Are you trying to stab each other in the feet? Why are your shoes off! It’s October!”

“Equal playing field.” Ronan wiggled his toes against the cold asphalt. “Parrish’s shitty knife is no match for my boots.” Over Gansey’s head, Ronan tried to catch Adam’s eye, to share a ‘can you believe him’ sort of look. Adam’s embarrassment over being caught acting irresponsibly meant Ronan could expect the look to be rebuffed, but he couldn’t help himself from trying it anyway.

Adam was bent over, eyes hidden. He carefully dusted off his socked feet one at a time before sliding them back into his shoes, as though the socks or sneakers could look any worse. A little parking lot crud might improve their appearance, actually.

Next to him, Gansey was still fussing. Without the pressure release valve of eye contact with someone who knew Gansey was overreacting, Ronan snapped, “Come off it, man, I’m not going to slit my throat while Parrish watches. He can’t afford that caliber of snuff film.”

Gansey’s concern transformed into revulsion, but underneath it he looked hurt, which was far far worse.

Adam straightened up. “We were just using it to mark where we hit. Honestly, we could have done it tossing a sharpie, but neither of us had one.” He sounded conciliatory, which pissed Ronan off. But Gansey was letting it go, returning the knife to Adam with an apologetic smile. Sorry for the fuss. Sorry for Ronan. Ronan’s bare feet were cold against the asphalt.

“Well? Are you going to throw or not, Parrish?” he said belligerently.

Adam rolled his eyes, but obligingly stooped for gravel and let one fly at Ronan’s open bedroom window, a shot he made easily.

Gansey whistled. “You’ve got quite the arm on you. How come you’re not on the Algionby baseball team?”

Adam shifted his feet, awkwardly.

“Please,” scoffed Ronan, “he’s not a team player.”

Gansey did not let it go. “Bet you’d have a better fastball than both our pitchers.”

There was a pause, during which Adam’s face clearly showed all of the thoughts he was trying to corral into a polite response to Gansey’s unconsidered enthusiasm. Ronan got there first. “Yeah, Parrish, why not hitch your wagon to the star of organized sports, like every other rags to riches wannabe?”

“Ronan!” said Gansey, Ronan’s offensiveness registering where his own had not.

“Hitch my wagon to a star?” Adam was unruffled. “I thought quoting Transcendentalists could get you excommunicated.”

“Who said I know it’s Emerson. It’s a sourceless idiom to those of us who aren’t sad little nerds.”

Adam smirked. The smirk said, I never said Emerson. His words said, “Gansey’s damning me with faint praise. No one’s going pro out of an Algionby sport team. Even tennis.”

“Ouch,” said Ronan, cheerfully. “Hit me where it really hurts. My school pride.”

~

Now that Gansey had arrived, his plans for the day took precedence over noble pastimes such as flipping pocketknives at each other’s feet. His plans involved comparing readings from various instruments and then placing said various instruments in various new locations, all of which were equally arbitrary (to Ronan’s eyes) and inaccessible. Gansey’s plans involved him waiting by the car to monitor the readings while people hiked with antennae to the outermost reaches of the signal. People, in this instance, being Ronan and Adam, Noah having mysteriously and silently fucked off, as he so often did when a job required carrying anything.

Ronan put his head down and trudged. It was brambly here, and slightly damp, and he was beginning to work up the kind of counter-intuitive sweat that appears from working in the cold, the kind that makes you colder later.

As the person leading the hike, custom would dictate that he should catch and hold the long clinging arms of the brambles for the following hiker. This presented a dilemma. Ronan compromised, and set about stomping the multiflora into the ground as he walked. Scarlet hips burst under his feet, invasive and beautiful, spreading their millions of seeds across the damp earth. Noxious weeds.

“It’s too unreliable,” said Adam, into the silence. “Sports. It all depends on… your physical condition.”

“And your condition is shit.”

There was Adam’s ironic smile. “Yes. So.” He shrugged. There was the part they weren’t saying, which was that his physical condition could always get worse. Unexpectedly.

“My dad hates baseball.” Ronan heard himself make the slip—hates and not hated—and a spark of fury burned through him, brief and inconsequential.

“My dad loves it.”

They marched on in silence.

Adam swore as a bramble Ronan had beaten down sprang up again, catching him right across the tear, where his skin was exposed. He bent to unhook it from the camo with deft, deliberate hands. “What?” he said, like he could feel Ronan’s eyes.

Ronan looked away. “Why not the military?” He kicked purposelessly at the bramble and heard Adam sigh. “And don’t tell me you never thought about it. Test scores like yours out in hicksville high school, you must have had recruiters hopping all over you like fleas.”

“Would you believe I had a moral objection?” Adam’s smile was self-deprecating. Ronan studied it.

“No.”

Adam shrugged. It, too, was self-deprecating.

“I think you had a superiority objection. You think you’re too smart for that shit.”

Adam blinked at him. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

Ronan snorted. “Hell no. You can do better than getting blown up in a desert for the United States government.”

The smile, when it came, was small and stunning. “Damned by faint praise again.”

[brilium]

❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 21. Succubus! with Armin Arlet

Summary. Eren is being a headache talking about weird dreams and sleep paralysis, Armin always ignores his blabbering, but when he wakes up in the middle of the night with a weight on his lap, he starts to questionate himself.

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, vaginal sex, nipple play, dub-con (Armin thinks that it's a dream), oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation (m. receiving), breeding.

Word count. 1,949.

Author's note: It's funny that just yesterday a friend told me about a friend of him who had a sleep paralysis and felt someone hugging him from behind. Ghost was needing cuddles, I guess.

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

All week Eren has been trying to convince him that a ghost or something is in the apartment. Due to his long historial of lame and failed jokes, Armin hasn't believed any word from his mouth.

Although, this time Eren seems more worried than excited with the joke; he’s actually showing up in the morning with eyebags and the slight hint of some scratches under his clothes and his neck, he’s even eating a lot, which is not weird in Eren, but it started to get weirder when Armin woke up on a weekend and saw his best friend devouring his second hamburger at 9 A.M.

Even with all that, Armin spends almost all the afternoon explaining to Eren that what is happening to him could be a secondary effect of his new protein or because of the stress of the finals, leading him to also explain the scientific explanation of the sleep paralysis.

But still, Eren insisted that he was going to stay up all night watching movies while his best friend went to bed after the second movie.

It was late, Armin just had to turn his head slightly to the side to look at the hour on his digital clock on the nightstand, but his body ignored all his orders.

He tried to move his arms to rest on his elbows, but it also didn’t work.

It’s okay, maybe his body is a bit stiff from just waking up.

He shuts his eyes and takes short breaths to relax himself, trying to not remember the words of his best friend these past days.

“I’m sure, Armin! It feels like a weight on my lap that…” Eren bites his lip, cutting his sentence.

“That what, Eren?”

“It doesn’t matter! Just believe me!”

Armin shakes the thought away, thinking that the sensation of a weight growing from his calves to his hips it’s just his imagination.

It’s just a cramp, Armin.

Armin sighs before opening his eyes to look at the ceiling, but it’s received by the sensation of some soft knives definitely passing through his abdomen. He tries to lift his head to look down, but only his eyes make it to look at the figure above his hips.

His heart skips a beat when he sees a naked woman with fake horns and long fangs, her body has weird runes tattooed all along her body. She bends over his abdomen, arching her back perfectly to let him see the long tail that falls from her lower back as she starts to lick it with her long tongue. It feels so wet and soft that it sends shivers through Armin’s spine, but his paralyzed body doesn’t even let him moan or call for his friend, probably asleep on the couch of the living room.

The creature’s tongue travels from his trembling belly to his nipples, flicking and circling around them to finalize the teasing with a soft slap with the tip of her tongue. Her hands squeeze his sides firmly, leaving a small trail of scratches as she tangles her nails on the border of his sweatpants to pull them down slowly.

“It’s a hallucination, or a weird dream. Just shut your eyes and try to force yourself to wake up, come on!” Armin thinks about the advice that he gave to Eren before, noticing that it is not as effective as he thought.

She giggles softly when Armin’s nipples are fully erect, giving to both of them a small bite before straightening by putting her knees on the sides of his thighs. The soft light of the moonlight coming through the window lets Armin see her body and he feels how his hard erection starts to hurt between his legs.

One of her hands goes between his legs, right on the source of his pain to heal by squeezing it softly between her fingers and pumping up and down slowly from the tip to the base to spread all the length with his precum to make the movements easier. Meanwhile, her body bends over Armin again to tease on his neck with bites that hurt considerably thanks to those long fangs.

Armin’s breathing is messy and feels light headed with every touch from you, even with those long nails and your sharp fingers, the pleasure is so high from the start that even his mouth starts to dry from having it open without the chance to let his body make a sound or, in general, any of his extensions.

Eren is crazy, Eren is crazy. This is just because he’s been stressed lately.

But God bless his mind, because he has never had a dream where the pleasure felt so real. The pain of the bites starts to tickle on his crotch, even the sensation of a liquid running down from his neck to the pillow feels real.

Her body pulls back from his neck, she smiles widely with the small stains of Armin’s blood on her lips as she moves backwards to be near his crotch. The up and down movements on his member stops, and Armin is not sure if the long sigh that he let out is of relief of the only close thing of a whine that he can make right now.

His deception doesn’t last long when her tongue stamps against his aching cock, spreading all her drool along it, tracing every vein and detail on it while his thighs make small jumps at the stimulation. It’s Armin’s hell when her hands start to squeeze and play with his balls as her mouth starts to suck all his length at one stroke.

He wants to moan, to moan so hard that he wouldn’t care if Eren listens.

But he can’t, his body is not his right now.

The back of her throat hugs his tip so warmly everytime that she goes too deep and makes a soft gag sound, Armin is so in the edge that when her struggled breathing comes out from her nostrils and tickles on the short hairs on his base makes his body shiver, wanting to thrust up for more.

Armin feels his thighs aching and trembling; his chest is shaking with hard breathing that is getting harder to control; his sweat running through his forehead; and a soft pain on his neck while his pillow starts to feel wet.

Is it because of the tears of pleasure running down his cheeks? Or the frustration of not being able to move his body?

Anyways, Armin can’t let out the loud screaming moan that is stuck on his throat when his orgasm hits him, just feeling how his legs and hips twitch a little when her mouth souk from his base to his tip hollowing her cheeks to suck harder and pull back roughly as his cum spits out just as you pull out to spread all his cum over himself.

Armin feels like he just lost a heavy weight from his body once his swollen cock still twitches of pleasure on his stomach, not being able to look at his mess with the stiff neck. He thinks that the pleasurable nightmare is done, but when he feels the creature moving her weight a little closer, just at the level of his hips, he feels the worst coming on.

His cock hurts, so bad, like he’s still hard without cumming yet. And the pain mixes with relief when a tight and warm feeling starts to suck down on his length slowly, receiving him with the best wet cunt he has ever felt in all his life.

Armin’s breathing is messy as she moves her hips down to receive all his member inside her and being gifted with the sound of her sweet moans, she doesn’t contain anything, opposite to his paralyzed body.

Is Eren listening? Maybe he should—

"Fuck—" She screams, moving back and forth her hips with a eyes rolling peace and strength that shakes every single thought out of Armin's mind.

Combining her cunt sucking him so good and tightening him so sweetly with her hips riding him in circles makes his dry throat start to ache.

Armin is surprised that he got to do it back to back so quickly, but maybe his dream is being so good to him that he might ignore how his body is actually feeling all the soreness.

She scratches all his chest, leaving thin red trails along his body as her body rolls over him with every movement with such a knowledge. 

Her cunt starts to tighten, having a hard effect on him that Armin starts to feel another aching pain growing on his balls for need of a release as her moans fill all his room.

She moans so lustfully, so sweet and needy.

She screams, squeezing him harder as Armin just can let out a soft whimper when her pussy sucks him so good to relieve all of his cum spreading out from his tip.

Armin feels all her muscles hug him to take every drop as she keeps riding, overstimulating him until she's done and Armin can't keep cumming more.

His eyelids feel heavy, it's hard to see through the tears but his body again feels like it's his. Armin raises his arm to touch her, to keep going, but then…

The alarm starts ringing.

The sun is out, his breathing is heavy and he's fully clothed just like he went to bed last night. The only weird thing is that his morning hard is not here.

He just shakes his head, trying to forget his dream as he wakes up and opens his door to wash his face.

Eren is on the kitchen table, eating his breakfast and looking less tired than the past nights. When his best friend walks in, his fork falls from his hand to his plate, making a loud sound that resonates throughout the apartment.

"What!? Eren! Be careful with the plates!"

"Fuck the plates, look at you!" Eren points at him with his hand, looking exasperated and scared. "Are you in the fucking fight club!?"

Armin shrugs confused before kneeling a little to look at himself on the reflection of the microwave door. His skin goes pale when he notices it.

His neck has a lot of bruises and bite marks with dried blood. Armin quickly lifts his shirt to look at his abdomen all scratched and bruised just like his neck with fear.

They both look at Armin’s marks for a long moment in silence, trying to connect all the pieces of their theories with just stares.

"Should I call Mikasa and tell her to let us stay with her while we find a new apartment?" Eren says, breaking the silence with a strained voice while his hand caresses the scratches on his arms.

"Bring the keys of your car, she'll cut the call if we try to explain it to her through the phone."

Eren nods, running to the entrance for his keys while Armin stares at his reflection again.

He runs to the kitchen sink to soak a towel and clean the dry blood on his neck to clean himself a little while Eren moves around on the entrance.

Armin’s blood runs to his feets when he feels cold arms hugging him from behind, running sharp nails against the fabric of his shirt.

"Are you leaving now? I was hoping to do something with the three together…"

When Armin's body feels paralyzed again as her hands travel under his sweatpants, he starts to question himself if he actually woke up.

@softlilpeachxx

[daisiesonafield-blog]

HARRY STYLES: A DEEPER LOOK AT HIS FEELINGS TOWARDS 1D MEMBERS...TAROT/PSYCHIC READING PART 1/5

link

(I recommend watching in 1.25x or 1.5x speed!)

Timestamps:

0:00 Intro

5:05 Archetype of what Harry feels about Zayn

7:17 Archetype of what Harry feels about Liam

10:32 Archetype of what Harry feels about Niall

10:28 Archetype of what Harry feels about Louis

11:40 Archetypes summary

13:38 Zayn Archetype details

22:39 Liam Archetype details

28:35 Niall Archetype details

33:56 Louis Archetype details

36:45 Additional card for Louis

36:59 Bottom deck for all

38:44 Additional card for Zayn

39:29 Additional card for Liam

40:30 Additional card for Niall

42:07 Archetypes for Harry

44:16 What is something we don't know about Harry and Zayn

49:32 What is something we don't know about Harry and Liam

57:17 What is something we don't know about Harry and Niall

1:08:34 What is something we don't know about Harry and Louis

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

Some interesting stuff in here, though I feel like a lot of what she says can be a bit better interpreted with additional context and knowledge, but overall a good reading imo.

A quick summary of her main points:

Harry & Zayn: overall very strong feelings, a lot of questions and conflicts. H has a lot of love for Zayn and feels like he's had to deal with a lot of shit; Zayn gave a lot to H and as a result he sees Zayn as a martyr. He has some guilt towards Zayn. She says H feels like they're family, and that Z+H have a karmic connection from a past life and were destined to meet again in this life. Overall a very deep connection with a lot of depth and difficulties.

Harry & Liam: H saw Liam as a rescuer, someone who was very direct, a straight forward person, and that they spoke a lot, Liam being very communicative and blunt. There's a lot of warmth between them. They had some conflicts but Liam would still always talk to Harry even when they didn't see eye to eye. H tried to help Liam with his addiction, but this was an unresolved thing in their relationship. They talked a lot about relationships together, and had a strong creative artistic bond.

Harry & Niall: super strong connection. True friendship between them, she's mentioned before that they have a friendship soulmate bond, and that comes thru again in this reading. H admires Niall's life perspectives and positivity and used to go to him to work thru things. They've been thru a lot together, a lot of heavy shit. She said they used to spend a lot of time talking into the night till they fell asleep together. TW for the next section - she mentions that the two of them have some industry-related information that has helped them but is also really heavy. She mentions it involves someone of great high status, and she sees a drink, or putting something in a drink, in a location of desert-like climate, she also got the name Justin Bieber mixed in this. It's overall unclear, but she hints at it being some sort of dark industry thing, and tbh this just screams abuse to me. She mentioned that only the two of them were involved in this, that the 2 of them were taken to this place where they gained this information about this powerful person, not the other boys, and it's something that weighed very heavily on them but ultimately helped them (?), very creepy af vibes. - that being said, I remind you that this is a tarot reading and as such is highly subjective and based on interpretation, and that this info is very surface level and convoluted at best, or misinterpreted at worst.

Harry & Louis: H sees Louis as God. A lot of benevolence coming from Louis, H sees him as compassionate and kind. There's a lot of admiration that he feels for L. H's relationship with Louis is the strongest, they had the strongest bond amongst all of the boys. For Louis she got "look who's in charge", that he takes charge, takes control of situations, that he's someone who manifests and brings good things in - and H really looks up to Louis because of this. That Louis is "slow and steady", and someone who's worked thru a lot of disappointments in his life, through a lot of pain. That Louis smiles in very difficult situations. He's very strong, and has a very high tolerance for pain, emotional pain specifically; he's able to withstand a lot of pain. And Harry is aware of this in regards to Louis, it's something big and important in their relationship. H saw Louis go thru a lot of sadness and difficulties with other people, where they weren't honest or true to Louis and tried to imprison him, and keep him down, hold him down, but they weren't able to. That Louis is a very resilient and transformative soul. That he's been through a lot of despair, poverty and grief and come out strong on the other side. That Louis has a message for people. That H feels like Louis always has messages for him in everything, that he has a lot to learn from Louis, that Louis has a lot of wisdom. H feels like Louis is a very deep thinker. H has a motherly energy towards Louis, that he's had to talk Louis off the edge thru all the difficulties he's been thru. H has a very considerate, careful and sweet energy for Louis. That Louis has been thru some really shitty, sketchy and shady things thru life, and that Louis is a very strong warrior, but there were some moments when H had to talk Louis off the ledge while dealing with very difficult, tortuous thoughts. That H helped Louis during these difficult times, and brought him back, helped him see things in perspective. That they went thru some really difficult times emotionally, specifically Louis, and that H helped even when it was hard due to his proximity and how well he understood Louis. And that H brought in strength and said 'no we will get thru this, it'll be ok'. H has a motherly vibe. That HL have a really strong bond because they got to know each other slow and steadily, their relationship was very steady. They went thru some really difficult energies. That Louis helped H tap intro his creative side through reading. Their relationship has the energy of a marriage. That they felt like a married couple. That they care very deeply for each other, and when one of them would get an offer they'd expect the other to receive something as well. And they'd speak out if they felt like the other wasn't getting something fair, or not being treated right. They defended each other. They felt like they were in a very difficult situation as celebrities, more so them two specifically, more so than the other boys. That they have a very youthful energy in their relationship despite the pain they experienced. That they were always there for each other, and they needed each other. Soulmates.

Overall H has a lot of love for all of the 1D boys in different ways, and they're like family, brothers, a community, and no place like home. That H feels like they all came together for a reason.

[acourtofthought]

@starsreminisce posted these comments on their blog:

And the last paragraph really stood out to me.

Something I've seen said by a certain side of the fandom is that a bonus chapter should not change the trajectory of what is in the actual book. I disagree with that because I look at the bonus chapters as a sneak peek of what's to come in future books (with this particular bonus following the pattern talked about in a post yesterday, with the resolution to the small story pointing us in the direction of Gwynriel), things that Sarah will at a later point expound on within the actual series even if they weren't initially clear to us without having read the bonus.

But say that's the truth, say the bonus chapters are only in line with that which we already know (which still works for Gwynriel because though the bonus hinted at Gwyn having a curiosity towards Az and him possibly having a bond with her, we do see bits of that in the actual book as well, there are scenes with her staring in his direction and scenes where he's staring in hers, where he shows admiration for her, where she's teasing him, where Nesta calls Az her new ribbon).

One of the big arguments is that it's extremely clear that Elain has no interest in Lucien, that it's been the case for multiple books. It's said Elain does not owe Lucien an explanation, that she does not owe him her time or attention.

So why not write an Elain bonus chapter in SF where she and Lucien have a conversation discussing how they don't want to explore their bond? According to E/riels there's no need for it in the first place since she's made herself clear but they have also claimed that she won't break the bond until we have her POV. Then wouldn't a bonus in Elain's POV before her book be the perfect place for something that's so obvious so that when she starts her own book "with Az", there's nothing standing in their way and the focus can be on their romance and the plot and not the emotional toll that her severing her bond with Lucien would take? If the Elucien bond is as much of a non issue as some claim it be be, then why not deal with it in an Elain Bonus Chapter? When her book starts, Sarah could even recap the events of the bonus for those who had missed it.

Elain thought back to that conversation she and Lucien shared shortly after Solstice. Where after Azriel's rejection, which had cut her deeply, she realized there was no place in her heart for anyone but Az even if she wasn't sure he still wanted her.

That would have actually be a perfect way for SJM to move us past the Elucien bond with very little in the way of feeling devastated on Lucien's behalf, where his heart is not being broken in real time within her romantic arc.

But the author didn't do that. She gave Az and FEYRE a POV. Feyre who already had 3 books and a novella and Elain with a total of 0.

We know Az doesn't think Lucien is good enough for Elain but we don't know if Elain agrees with that.

We know Az questioned the Cauldron because of his brothers and her sisters, that he hadn't thought of being with Elain beyond his sexual fantasies but we don't know where Elain stands on the whole "just wants one taste / why wasn't Az made my mate" debate.

We know Az thought of Elain as too trusting and hopeful but we've no clue whether Elain was really thinking anything of the sort.

We've got Feyre thinking back on how she made sure to keep her mouth shut on Elain not wearing Lucien's gloves, how had she put them on she would have never been pierced in the first place but we still don't know whether Elain's actions with the gloves actually line up with her thoughts.

If Sarah wanted to continue on with what is apparently so evident in the four books of buildup for E/riel there was nothing preventing her from finally giving us Elain's POV in SF and having her tell Lucien that there's no reason for him to hold out hope any longer.

The more likely explanation for why Elain wasn't given a bonus is because everything that E/riels and Az claim that is so very obvious regarding Elain's character might actually not be as obvious as they think.

If she's so happy in the NC, then why hide her thoughts?

If she's so in love with Az, that it's clear as day, then why hide her thoughts?

If she's so disinterested in Lucien, then why hide her thoughts?

If we're supposed to believe that Elain's choice is Az, that there is no competition and that it should not be a mystery to anyone at this point, then why has she been so reticent to put us into Elain's head?

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby Part 3

a/n: Well now there is a Part 3. 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 800 ish

Summary: We find out the real reason Jake is called Hangman. 

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“There is something wrong with your phone number.” Jake was staring intently at the sheet of paper. All the lines for your number were still blank and the baby’s crib was almost drawn. 

“My number is perfect, and it only has three different digits,” you reply. 

Jake counted his guesses. “That doesn’t make any sense, I’ve guessed 8 numbers already!”

“Yeah but you guessed five twice.” You pointed to where you'd written the number down twice. “I wasn’t going to mention it.” Jake groaned and rubbed his face. You couldn’t help grinning at the pink that was spreading on his cheeks. “Is this performance anxiety because you are not playing Hangman?”

“No… maybe?” He sat up and looked back at the numbers. “I was guessing local area code numbers.” He explained. “You, Kisses, are not from around here.”

“Oooh, solid strategy.” You were impressed he had a strategy. You would have just guessed the numbers 0-9 in order. “It would have worked too if I didn’t move here six months ago.”

Jake quickly guesses the final three numbers and you fill them into the blank spaces. As soon as you had written the last number down he gently slid the paper out from under your hand. He took a picture on his phone of the paper and then entered your number into his contacts.

“You still don’t know my name,” you laugh at his eagerness. “What are you going to put as the contact?”

“Hugs and Kisses,” he shows you the contact where XOXOXO is written instead of your name. Your phone dings when he sends you a text. “Can I be Baby in your phone?” 

“Sleepy Baby.” You say firmly. You add his contact and send him a sleeping and a baby emoji. 

“Ready for my name?” you say pulling the paper back to you. “Are you going to go for the standard guess the vowels strategy or start guessing letters in common names from my age range, like Jessica, or Ashley?”

“J.” He says immediately. You add it to the wrong letters bank and add a bar to the crib. “I thought you were giving me a hint!” His outraged face makes you roll your eyes.

“I’m not going to give you hints,” you tell him. “But this baby will have ten fingers and ten toes before you leave if it has too.”

“This would go way faster if you gave me hints,” he is pouting and you find it adorable.

“I like to watch you struggle,” you tell him. “Next letter.”

“Z.”

“It’s like you don’t want to know my name.” 

…

Five minutes later you hear him say your name for the first time. You can't help the way your stomach flips and your heart beats faster at the sound of your name on his lips. “Hi Jake.” You reply and you can feel yourself blushing.

He had finally managed to uncover your name but the baby had ten fingers and two toes. “Do you actually let your niece win or are you just bad at hangman?” You ask him.

“Both.” He replies honestly. “Whenever I do figure it out I deliberately guess the wrong letters.”

“If you are so bad at hangman, why is that your name?”

“It’s a Navy thing.” he shrugs. “Call signs are meant to keep you humble.”

“Clearly it didn't work for you,” you raise your eyebrows at him and he just winks in response. 

There is a knock on the door and Eillen, your coworker, peeks in. “Your 3:00 Art Group starts in ten minutes.”

“Shit, I have to get the paint out!” you jump to your feet. Jake immediately offers to help and you lead him to the activity room and instruct him how you want the tempera paint poured into the trays. You get the brushes, water cups and paper out for the activity you had planned. 

When everything is set up you gently push Jake toward the door with your hand on his chest. “Thanks for helping me set up but you have to go before the kids get here.”

“I’m glad I found you.” His voice is soft and he is staring into your eyes the way he did the first night you met him. 

“Me too.” you duck your head and smile before looking back up.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Excitement is shining in his green eyes.

“I could be persuaded.” He gives you his full smile and brings the hand that you have against his chest to his lips. He presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles and the butterflies are back.

“I'll call you tomorrow.” He promises as he walks away, pumping his fists in the air when he leaves the library. 

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! Another for TFA requests.

So I read/saw 'Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Megatron's daughters meeting each other', and it was amazing. It got me thinking of this request, feel free to reject this request if you like.

Remember some of your TFA requests, where Cons had siblings?

'Starscream's twin brother with the personality of SG! Starscream' and 'Lugnut has a younger brother', and 'Elita One's twin sister'

If so, I'm wondering if it's okay to have a crossover of these Decepticons' siblings meeting each other.

Thank you!

YES!

More Buddy meets Buddy!

Hope you enjoy!

Elita One's twin sister, Starscream's twin brother, and Lugnut's younger brother meeting

SFW, Platonic, Hinted romance, Cybertronain (minus 1 techon organic) reader

TFA

The cons will be going to Starscream twin’s universe.

In Starscream’s twin universe.

Buddy had been overseeing Starscream on the latest attempt for a portable Spacebridge.

In theory, it wouldn’t work because of its size and compression.

But what would Buddy know about space bridge technology.

Buddy looking at the Constructicons working.

“Are we sure this was a good idea?”--Buddy

Starscream cleaning his servo.

“Who cares.”--Starscream

“I think we should. I mean this isn’t some child’s play after all.”--Buddy

The portal starts sparking.

“Umm. Is it supposed to do that?!”--Buddy

Starscream grabbing a hold of Buddy’s servo.

“No time to find out!”--Starscream

In Lugnut’s younger brother universe…

Buddy is looking around the base for his favorite screwdriver.

“I swear if Blitzwing decided to put it on the high shelf again—”--Buddy

Portal opens on the wall next to him.

Buddy quickly claws the ground trying to stop himself from going inside the portal.

“HELP! LUGNUT! LUGNUT!”--Buddy

Lugnut comes barreling into the main room to find nothing.

In Elita One’s twin sister universe

Buddy is trying to reorganize some data pads that Starscream gave her.

“I take one day off and now I’m under house arrest for a month. This cannot get any worse.”--Buddy

Portal open in front of her.

Buddy shoots some webs to the wall to stop her from getting sucked in.

“I JUST HAD TO OPEN MY BIG MOUTH DIDN’T I?!”—Buddy

Blitzwing comes in.

“Buddy what’s all the noise—WHAT IS THAT?”—Blitzwing

“HOW SHOULD I KNOW THAT THING JUST APPEARED!”--Buddy

Starscream and Lugnut come in but quickly latch onto furniture that was nailed to the ground.

“WE LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR 5 MINUTES AND YOU’RE ALREADY TRYING TO ESCAPE?!”--Starscream

“STARSCREAM THAT IS THE DUMBEST—”--Buddy

Some of the webbing starts to snap.

“ANYONE GOT ANY IDEAS!”--Buddy

“CALL LORD MEGATRON!”--Lugnut

“WHAT?! WHY?! HE’S ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN HOW IS HE--”--Buddy

“JUST DO IT!”—Blitzwing, Starscream, and Lugnut

“MEGATRON!”--Buddy

Megatron comes barreling in.

“BY THE PIOUS POOLS THAT WORKED?”--Buddy

Megatron looking at Buddy with some fear in his optics.

“BUDDY! HANG ON I AM COMING FOR YOU!”--Megatron

“WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING!”--Buddy

Megatron slides a bit on the floor impaling the floor with his sword as he reaches for Buddy’s servo.

More webs start snapping.

“BUDDY GRAB HOLD!”--Megatron

“I’M TRYING!”--Buddy

Megatron and Buddy’s servos barely touch before the last web snaps dragging Buddy in.

The portal closes before anyone can blink.

Megatron screams.

In Starscream’s twin universe

Buddy was hanging on to one of the niches of the cave wall while clutching Starscream’s servo tightly. Starscream has an equally steely grip on his twin’s servo.

Then two figures shoot out taking one of the twins out.

The portal stops.

Lugnut Buddy groans as he is etched on the wall upside down.

“This is why I hate portals… 0 out of 10 do not recommend.”—Lugnut’s younger brother

He falls from the wall on his face.

Starscream twin groans as he feels some weight on his chassis.

He sees a different version of his friend Blackarachnia.

Elita Buddy groans as she looks to see… Starscream?

Both look at the position they are in and quickly get off each other.

“Sorry!”—Starscream and Elita One’s twins

“No, I’m sorry. I did kind of plowed into your chassis.”—Elita One’s twin

“But see no harm done.”—Starscream’s twin

“I wouldn’t say—”—Elita One’s twin

“ENOUGH!”--Starscream

Starscream drags his twin away from the two intruders.

“Who are you?!”--Starscream

Elita Buddy raises her servos with Lugnut Buddy.

“My designation is Buddy—”—Elita One’s twin

Starscream scoffs.

“Don’t lie to me! I invented lying!”--Starscream

Starscream’s twin and Elita’s twin look at him in disbelief.

“Lying has been around much longer.”—Starscream and Elita’s twins

Starscream’s twin and Elita’s twin look at each other.

“That was creepy… Anyways the real Buddy is right here!”—Starscream

Points at his twin.

Lugnut younger brother raises his servo.

“I’m also named Buddy.”—Lugnut’s younger brother

Starscream and Elita One’s twins look at him smiling.

Starscream’s twin helps both Buddy’s up on their pedes.

“Well we do have the possibility of this being—”—Starscream’s twin

“An interdimensional portal?”—Elita One’s twin

“In which we all came from our own respected universes inside one big one?”—Lugnut’s younger brother

“…”—All the Buddy’s

“Did we just become best friends?”—Stacream’s twin

“Yes!”—All three Buddy’s

The three high five each other.

Starscream’s twin wraps his arms around his new friends.

“Come! We have to let Lord Megatron know about this!”—Starscream’s twin

The three walk away.

Starscream looks like he is about to have a stroke.

After a brief explanation from Starscream’s twin to the team, Megatron decides to let the newcomers have safe haven until they can get back home. To avoid any confusion between the three Buddy’s they resort to using nicknames.

1 was Starscream’s twin brother

2 was Elita One’s twin sister

3 was Lugnut’s younger brother

“Wouldn’t it be easier to call 1 Twin? He is Starscream’s twin.”--Blitzwing

2 chuckles a bit.

“I’m also a twin, it would make things a bit confusing.”--2

1 and 2 high five each other.

“Twin power!”—1 and 2

“I think I’m going to be sick…”--Starscream

“Oh, suck it up Starscream.”--Blackarachnia

“Oh! I didn’t know I had an alternative!”--2

Blackarachnia gets a bit uncomfortable from the sudden closeness.

“The names Blackarachnia kid.”--Blackarachnia

Buddy scowls a bit.

“I’m not a kid.”--2

“Wow! Are you sure about that? You two have the same scowl.”--1

Both turn towards him scowling.

“We are not!”—2 and Blackarachnia

“…”—2 and Blackarachnia

“Okay maybe there’s something—”--2

“I’m gone.”--Blackarachnia

Blackarachnia leaves the base.

1 pats 2 on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it the hard way. Arachnia… she’s been through some things.”--1

2 just shakes her helm and lets 1 guide her back to the others.

There is a lot of tension at first between the Decepticons and the newcomers but 1 acts as the olive branch between the new comers and his universe’s team.

2 and 3 quickly become attached to him.

The others eventually come around and begin asking questions about their respected universes.

“Okay 3, give us some fun facts.”--1

3 is sitting by 1 and Lugnut.

“Well, I have an older and bigger brother, I’m in charge of the maintenance at the base, and… oh! I like sunflowers!”--3

“You have an older brother? Who is he?”--2

3 shifting a bit in his spot.

“Wouldn’t that make it a bit weird for you guys?”--3

“Nope we’re just curious, even if some of us won’t admit it.”—1

He playfully nudges Starscream who just huffs and looks away.

“…Its Lugnut.”--3

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that.”--Starscream

“I said Lugnut.”--3

Everyone looks at Lugnut who was just frozen in place.

3 looks at him worried and hurt.

“Lugnut? Lugnut? I told you that this was—”--3

Lugnut scoops up the minibot and gives him a hug.

“I have a brother! I have a brother!”--Lugnut

3 now trapped in his brother’s alternatives grip just pats his servo and accepts his fate.

1 turns to 2 who is sitting next to him and Blitzwing.

“Okay, your turn!”--1

“Okay… I’m a techno organic, I’m Megatron’s chief medical officer, and since we are on the topic of flowers, I’ve taken a liking to Jasmen and lavender flowers.”--2

1 nods in approval.

“I like those flowers, but I personally like lilies.”--1

“Is liking flowers something all Buddy’s like?”--Starscream

The three of them shrug.

“Who knows? We’ve only met each other, maybe there’s another Buddy out there.”--3

“Yeah right, like that’s real.”--Starscream

All three Buddy’s stare at Starscream blankly.

2 turns to 1, both having an entire conversation with their optics.

“I don’t like this…”--Starscream

“Me neither.”--Megatron

“What?”--Starscream

“What.”--Megatron

The Buddy’s stick together after the little group talk.

1 and 2 refuse to leave 3 alone anywhere.

They’re kind of worried that he is going to get stepped on.

But that proves to be not a problem.

Lugnut is constantly behind his alternatives brother.

It’s almost comical in how the big lumbering giant follows his ‘brother’ around like a lost duckling.

3 walking with Lugnut through the base.

3 stumbles on a rock.

Lugnut quickly catches him and places him back down, patting his helm before continuing their walk.

When Blackarachnia does eventually come back, 2 doesn’t waste any time to try and get a do over with her.

2 had a feeling she knew who this ‘Blackarachnia’ character was, she just needed to make sure it was true. However, she doesn’t tell her ‘Counterpart’ about it. It would be useless to her anyways.

The talks between the two end up being very therapeutic for both.

2 and Blackarachnia looking at the Constructicons building the potal again.

They both look at each other with optics raised.

“What are they doing?”--Starscream

“The same thing we do.”--1

“We don’t do that.”--Starscream

One of the Constructicons fall on some oil. The other comes to help, but he also slips on the same puddle.

2 looks at Blackarachnia who sighs and hands her some bolts.

“What—”--Starscream

1 looks at Starscream with raised optics.

Starscream raises his with a bit of sass before stopping.

“…Point taken.”--Starscream

1 loves to keep 3 on his shoulders.

3 likes feeling tall and flying a bit with 1 despite Lugnut’s protests.

In exchange, 3 tries to teach 1 some basic maintenance tricks to make things run smoothly.

“And then you take some of the oil and—1 are you even listening?”--3

1 has a weird look on his face.

“What’s up?”--3

1 makes a motion for 3 to look at what he is seeing.

2 is fixing Megatron’s servo while Megatron is talking to her.

“And? 2 said she was a medic? She’s just fixing his servo.”--3

“That’s the thing. His servo doesn’t need fixing.”--1

“What?”--3

“He had it fixed the other day. He also doesn’t like it when we try to fix it if—Oh by the Pious Pools, he’s hitting on her.”--1

3 shakes his helm.

“No that can’t be it. Megatron wouldn’t—”--3

2 giggles a little bit at something Megatron said.

Heart eyes!

1 and 3 have horrified looks on their faces.

“We need to get that portal done now.”--3

“Agreed. It’s almost sickening yet kind of cute--”--1

2 looks at them and walks to them.

“Are you guys, okay? I heard someone say they were sick?”--2

2 starts examining 1 while Megatron just smiles a bit at 2.

Meanwhile in 2’s universe.

Megatron who is in the process of turning the base upside down trying to figure out where Buddy disappeared to.

Megatron gets an unpleasant shudder and starts looking around faster.

The portal manages to get fixed.

But because it was still unstable only one was going to be able to go back home until they could fix it again.

1 and 2 agree for 3 to get sent home first.

It’s a bit of a goodbye between this Lugnut and 3.

A couple days before 2 would be able to go home.

 In 3 universe

Buddy gets shot out of the portal at high speed, crashing on the wall upside down.

“Why can’t I ever have a soft, safe landing? Is that too hard for you, universal travel!”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Blackarachnia

Blackarachnia comes from behind the corner.

Buddy waves a bit before falling face first on the ground.

Blackarachnia flinches a bit before helping him up.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do kid. Lugnut’s been going crazy looking for you.”--Blackarachnia

Buddy just smiles softly as a pair of thunderous pede steps comes closer.

“BUDDY!”--Lugnut

[moibakadesu]

Haruka’s victim of his “murder” was he himself (The suicide theory)

This is a theory that I had since t1 there have been even more points for me to work with (I just never had time/peace of mind to do so), so let’s get into it, shall we?

First of all, as should be obvious from the title, there is a cw for suicide and also one for child abuse and neglect, as well as dead animals because we can’t talk about Haruka without going into these topics.

So what we are going to talk about today is:

Haruka’s victim of his “murder” was he himself

You might wonder now: But how is he walking around in Milgram then? We are looking at a magical song prison that bends the fabric of reality, I don’t think being a sort of purgatory is that much out of the question. I am not one to think that ALL of our current prisoners are dead, but for some it seems like an option. Note Yuno asking so pointedly in her t2 VD “Am I really still alive?” which seemed like a big hint. And also (MILGRAM NOVEL 2 SPOILER) in the second novel there is a part where literally falls the statement of “of course there are people who are already dead, it would be more strange if we wouldn’t have these”. As well as there being a suicide case.

And even if we would not go into that direction, we would still have the option of a failed suicide attempt which resulted in a temporary stopped heart = on paper you can be declared dead. With Milgram’s very loose definition of “being responsible for the loss of a human life” this seems very much like it could qualify as well.

So what gave me the idea that this could be the case for Haruka? The first thing that made my interest perk up was this screen here from Undercover:

In these shots with the silhouettes from the prisoners we presumably have a location where their murder happened or is heavily connected to it. And in some cases we even have the victims present in the shots.

What differentiates the prisoners from their victims is that all prisoner silhouettes have this gray hatching on them while their victims are a solid black color (it’s a bit unclear with Kazui, because he and Hinako are pretty small in his scene).

So with that in mind what falls to attention in Haruka’s shot? Yes, he is a solid black.

And that sprung the idea of: what if Haruka is the victim?

Well, he is, in more sense than one, but we are only concentrating on his “murder” for now.

Let’s now go through his first MV Weakness with this in mind, because it is already ripe with a lot of possible suicidal imagery. We won’t go over his first VD, because … well, there are simply no real hints in that one yet.

Weakness analysis

Right away at 0:08 we start with a scene transition of Haruka sinking into water. As you are probably all aware water is a big recurring theme with him, it draws itself through his MVs as well as being present in image material and merchandise related to him. Prior to ending up in Milgram he was also living in the city Niigata, which is literally called “the city of water”. So we can assume that it is of pretty big significance to his character.

The overall imagery of drowning and suffocating also appears repeatedly with him, so my assumptions of how he might have taken his life are either by, well, drowning or by hanging himself (due to imagery we will later get to in AKAA).

At 0:41 we have Haruka pushing his younger self into a “scribble-puddle”, leading us to another transition of Haruka once again sinking into the watery depths.

I think this is both a representation of Haruka’s loathing and jealousy of his younger self which still was somewhat loved by his mother until his disabilities became too noticeable to be ignored as well as an actual stand-in for killing yourself.

At this point let’s talk a little bit about the little girl that is assumed to be Haruka’s victim, shall we?

Well, in a broad sense we can say: yes, she is his victim. But the twist is this, recently I saw a theory that made a big amount of sense to me, especially taken in account with the suicide theory. Basically, I think the little girl never existed in reality. She was just a figment of Haruka's imagination, a sort of “Imaginary friend”, his idealized version of what “Haruka” should have been. We know from his t2 interrogation questions that his mother always wanted a girl instead of a boy, going so far as to picking the name beforehand and not changing it even after she knew she was expecting a boy.

I could even imagine that his mother might have tried to raise him as a girl up to a certain age, her terrible overall parenting surely gives me the impression that she would do something that twisted.

So Haruka’s delusion of “his perfect loveable self” might have intermingled with himself taking his life. Because something that always threw me off was that in the end of AKAA when we get the split second of him strangling the girl it is clearly a grown up Haruka putting his hands on her neck. But in Weakness they are around the same age apparently. Why is this? Well, of course the “perfect little girl his mother wanted” would stay a little girl forever in his mind.

So he is fully convinced that he killed that girl, in his mind she was real after all.

This might be completely off the mark, but even if it is, I still could imagine Haruka taking his life after having committed the murder of the girl. Going over his second VD again personally I am leaning more towards the option that the girl was his little sister, with how much attention he puts on it having been a murder out of jealousy.

But the lyrics going along with him pushing the girl in Weakness could also allude to the possibility of that “imaginary girl” theory.

And right here at 1:20 down in the water we go again, directly after the scene above.

And at 2:05 we are at the well known stone smashing scene. The action in the screen is not the main point in this case though, here we have the first appearance of the lyrics of:

Haruka usually doesn’t consider the abuse received by his mother as bad, any attention received from her is good attention in his eyes, so he wouldn’t see himself as a victim for that, right?

So what could it imply?

Maybe becoming your own victim?

Because a lot more importantly, these lyrics make another reappearance right away. When?

When Haruka strangles his younger self. (Right after another “falling in water” scene at that.)

And at the end we literally have Haruka kneeling over his dead self, admitting that “it was me”.

It is also important to note that this is the only instance in the MV where he is not waking up in his bed again.

So that is all already plenty to go from, isn’t it? But don’t worry, there will be plenty more. (Or do worry, my heart cries daily for poor Haruka.)

To go chronologically let us look at his second VD:

Metamorphosis of the Weak

This will be quick, we only have to take a look at the very end here where Haruka comes up with his suicide threat. It’s his first instinct after threatening to kill Es and becoming aware again that he can’t do that. He is making that statement with astounding ease, almost as if … he went through with it before. He knows he is capable of doing it, so he is certain and confident of himself.

On that note, I am like 99,9% certain that he won’t be successful with whatever attempt he might be starting, there will be an intervention or a reason why it’s not possible of some sort. It will most likely go against Milgram’s purpose of judging these prisoners, so it won’t be allowed that somebody escapes proper judgment by putting an end to themselves. (MILGRAM NOVEL 2 SPOILERS: Jackalope in the novel also makes a point of this, saying that the prisoners there are disposable only after they have been judged.)

But I wrote a whole post about all the reason I am certain they won't kill him off in the middle of the trials, if you want feel free to read up on that as well!

So without further ado let us go to Haruka’s second MV:

All knowing and all Agony analysis

We start at 0:12 with Haruka in his solitary confinement, the room getting flooded with water.

Here we are again with the theme of him getting submerged in water.

And the next scene of him submerged in water right here at 0:35 in the mirror (btw. I love the direction of this MV, the blurred writing appearing in the mirror like it is getting drifted ashore by the water being one of the parts of this).

Now here at 1:29 we have a very interesting scene.

Sadly AKAA is riddled with a very spotty translation of the lyrics that doesn’t convey the meaning a lot of times or even leaves out some things.

This part here is the perfect example, the more fitting translation here would be: “if with the push of one button I could be reborn”

The translation exchanges the reborn with reset which doesn’t really carry the same meaning in this context, being reborn is something that you get after dying. I don’t think this is a coincidence at all. Also important detail here is that we have the frames with the butterfly specimens on the wall. The butterfly is a symbol of death and rebirth as well. This goes well with the name of Haruka’s second VD, because “metamorphosis” is the term for the transformation that a butterfly undergoes in the cocoon.

And here another important part that gets lost in translation:

In Japanese it would more correctly translate to “I don't want to die, I don’t want to die”.

Because, yes, I do think that Haruka committed suicide. Do I think that he did it because he wanted to die? No, that was not the main objective for him. In my opinion it was either, like before mentioned, to be reborn so that he can be a more loveable self in the next life or it was the last final desperate cry for attention from his mother after even killing the target of his jealousy didn't give the desired results.

It probably also ties in with his situation in Milgram, he does not want to die, to get wiped out, but his death is once again the only means to an end that he can see in this situation, in this case forcing an innocent vote for Muu with his life as the bargaining chip. (And well, we all know how well that gamble turned out for him ...)

And then at 2:09 we have the scene of Haruka standing on the chair.

You know what people often stand on chairs for? Hanging themselves. Doesn’t help that the barred up window in the back sort of alludes to the rope of a noose the way one of the bars is placed directly behind of him.

And here once more, with the infamous “dreaMu” line.

As I mentioned before, I suspect his pre-Milgram suicide was by drowning, but these images could very well allude to his threat spoken in the prison to secure Muu’s innocent vote. I personally wonder how Haruka could even be aware of this option to take his own life, because I can hardly imagine him having knowledge about this with his “sheltered” lifestyle, but who knows. 

Good luck attempting that in the prison though, as far as I am aware there are no fixtures there that would allow for it, and we are talking about a person that can’t even tie his own shoes, let alone tie a noose that would hold up his whole body weight.

Here we also have another very bad translation choice, and I’m not talking about the “dreaMu”. No, the problem is that they just didn’t include the whole second part of that line which would be “and spread my wings wide”, perfectly going along with Haruka spreading his arms like wings.

As if to take flight. This could be calling back to the butterfly symbolism as well as jumping, “taking flight”, from the chair …

And at 3:00 we reach another part of the MV where Haruka gets submerged in fluid. But this time it’s not water.

We have seen this fluid before in the MV, notably when the preserved animals started “melting”.

Preservation is the important word here, because this fluid is most likely formaldehyde (or formalin), used to preserve dead bodies. Fun fact, this is technically not the first time we see it, it might be present in Weakness as well.

This bottle here right at the beginning looks a lot like bottles that get used to store it. It is also a clear fluid before it comes into contact with what gets preserved.

As to why Haruka has knowledge about this sort of thing is, that I could imagine that his mother had to do with animal specimen preservation, either as a hobby or for work, so he is familiar with the function of it. On that note, he might even have started killing animals to bring his mother more bodies for her hobby/work and to be praised for it.

So we are closing the MV with Haruka sitting and swaying in his “formaldehyde tank”, the very substance in which dead things are preserved, repeating the lines of wanting to be reborn to be the favorite next time, in his next life basically.

(Oh my sweet boy, you don’t have to try so hard, you are already my favorite.)

And this is it, my theory that Haruka is literally a dead boy walking in this prison.

My heart bleeds for him, because for him it’s absolutely impossible to get any sort of happy end at the finale of Milgram and I think he would have deserved the world. Just a family that would have supported and understood him properly, a way more normal life, how his biggest wish is.

[lxmelle]

Re-reading some satosugu moments after chapter 261 dropped.

Spoilers under cut

“If you were there to pat me on the back, I might’ve been satisfied.” I know Geto was shown to have a little tear in reaction to this, and after knowing what he did and was willing to do with his body in ch261… phew, I feel like he recognised that Gojo really valued Geto’s presence and acceptance* of what he was doing, and that he had nothing to be envious over. (*more on this later)

Yes, he wasn’t lonely and yes he had fun with someone with unparalleled strength, but it seems like, as it was shown in his thoughts over the impossibility not becoming a monster alone - hinting that nobody else would do - because he single-mindedly has been chasing one person. (Just like Geto was who adorned himself with a Gojokesa, no less. Geto who couldn’t smile in a world despite having a family for the past 10 years but felt like he could cope with things when Gojo was by his side. Smiling warmly at his words at the very end). I think Geto recognised that. Hence the tear after seeing Gojo’s end and hearing what his friend had to say about it.

When they both heard how Nanami also spent a lot of time reflecting on the past, and yet ironically bet on things in the future at his death... Gojo also seemed appeased by this, deciding he didn’t have any regrets in the afterlife and yelled out to Yaga.

He seemed satisfied with his decision over events in 261 too.

Geto’s tears in both panels (I actually didn’t notice the second for some time) seemed to depict a sense of bittersweet realisation that he was truly missed / needed by Gojo. Or that their sacrifices had meaning. Who knows... but it does really hit different after the recent chapter. It’s just so like Geto to express himself in this way. The Japanese aren’t really blunt, so it makes a lot of sense that he is a little vague.

Just like at the end of jjk 0, he says that he didn’t think Gojo had forgiven him and still had trust for him. He thought they’d fought. His statement of “you should curse (me out) at the end” is as much of an admission of his apology as he could give in that moment.

Although it makes a lot of sense of Gojo’s last words to be “I love you.” (As I wrote about in another blog), it makes equal sense to me if he said “welcome home; you did your best.”

Because then Geto’s blushing smile could’ve been how he realised he always had a place with Gojo. Nobody else could do. He didn’t realise until then that he was actually loved by the person he loved too. The person he tried to save by dirtying his hands and try to preserve. He loved by trying to sacrifice himself not knowing that the other person actually needed him and would have been monsters together if Geto said “Yes, kill them.” at the hideout. A few people on X were tweeting about how it was ironic how Geto’s CT of intaking curses and his way of loving was to let them go; Gojo’s CT was to repel energy and his way of loving was to hold on forever. Sigh.

Nevertheless, we see how Gojo respected what Geto needed to do and didn’t chase after him. He allowed himself to be left behind. If you think about it, Gojo has done every. single. thing. Geto has requested from him, from giving Riko a good time, not killing the followers, ensuring there is a point to killing anyone, letting him walk away because it would be respecting his decision to live his life doing his best to create a world of sorcerers, let him go get crepes with his girls, and finally… to be the one to end his life. (He probably also gave his body to his cult family because Geto asked about whether they escaped, showing his consideration for his friend.) This was the warmth of his loving acceptance. Gojo was accepting of Geto’s need to do things on his own and never forced his will upon him.

Some others on X were discussing how Geto was within Gojo’s inner circle ⭕️ and that he wasn’t considered a “flower” to him. Thus, he drew a line between him and others and never could let anyone in. It makes sense when we think of them as the “strongest duo” that came to an end, and the Yin & Yang nature of their dynamic. Geto felt left behind by Gojo and Gojo felt left behind by Geto. Sigh.

Yuta: Don’t be a monster on your own.

Gojo thinks: It’s impossible; I was left behind back then, so I need to catch up (in other words: because nobody else will do beside me, besides Suguru).

Again, it hits harder to read ch236:

“at some point, a line was drawn between me and others as a living creature.” (People became flowers whom he believed could never understand him.)

“I couldn’t reach him. I had fun.” (I tried to be a monster and fight a monster to see if the answer was to reach someone else, it it didn’t work but I had fun going all out for once in my life; dying in battle than of old age.)

And “If you were there, I’d probably have been satisfied.” (There was something missing and it was you.)

And it all makes sense what he said in jjk0 that in his personal opinion: “love was the most twisted curse of all.” And “my one and only best friend.”

Ah... tragic love. Sigh.

[sp-ud]

I'm trying to imagine what other Showfall Media shows are like.

Like, it seems like the section ran by the Puzzler is probably often a part of it, as he mentions doing this for 30 years and it's likely the Showfall employees who played his Rats are the ones who built the memorial to him.

Which I think means that the Puzzler is an example of what a 'sucessful' character becomes. I mean, just look at how Hetch describes what would happen if the audience chose "live".

"Rescripted, repurposed, and recast." But how'd he get a role as a mastermind who was aware of the behind the scenes? Well of we take what Hetch says about how the show usually goes...

It sounds like Hetch often uses this "reality breaking" as a theme in his scripts, and perhaps it depended on how a character reacted to their reality being shattered if Hetch would deem them worthy or not.

It's not really clear what counts as "being worthy" but I'd imagine it counts as being entertaining, both to Hetch and the Audience... and maybe the Founder? The Founder's motives are super unclear, why does he want these shows? Why did he decide to test this world's Audience in a new experiment like this? Why did he give Hetch this role? How did he-

Ahem. That seems like a different rabbit hole for another time, maybe once we get more Generation 0 stuff (as it's been hinted to be about the origins? Of the Founder). Let's get back to what this might mean for what the usual show Hetch would run could be like.

It definitely involes horrific games and the characters reality slowly breaking around them. But I get the feeling Hetch and Showfall are rarely so explicitly involved in this.

And I think this might be because they werent broadcasting to any of their usual Audiences, they were testing this world for the first time. An Audience who has no idea who or what Showfall Media is.

I'd imagine whatever usual Audience Showfall broadcasts to, is probably either

a) from a world where real people dying for the sake of entertainment is fine, maybe not everyone enjoys it or think it's morally okay, but enough people like it and it's not illegal to watch people literally get physically and psychologically tortured on TV

b) are under the impression it's also fake. They still see the whole "reality breaking" things. But it's presented as completely fictional, maybe Showfall even let's the more successful characters live semi-normal lives in their off-time to give the full illusion all these people are really just actors.

c) a world that's not even remotely parallel to our own in any form, maybe not even inhabited by humans. After all, Hetch makes references to the fact he runs this show for years far longer than a natural human lifespan

d) all of the above separately, we are being told we're getting a viewpoint into infinity. And Hetch clearly has all the time in the world to make any kind of show he wants, as long as it fulfills the purpose the Founder have him.

And ah shit now that I'm reading this again I just noticed they refer to our world as "one of the few we can entertain". Nope not unpacking that here, I still only gave 3 possibilities and when compared to literally "infinity" that still falls under "one of the few".

[lagosbratzdoll]

Don’t know your opinion on Sansa/Margaery but I think this is a good way to make people understand the sheer racism of Rhaenicent.

Sansa/Margaery isn’t book canon, but fans love using quotes about Margaery’s kindness to show there was potential and hints of something more. This was then developed more on in Game of Thrones who added extra scenes and moments.

This is what should’ve happened with Rhaenyra/Laena, George has hinted at a romance in the books and fans acknowledge the ship’s existence. So it’s now House of the Dragon’s responsibility to develop this more using George’s groundwork, instead they race bent Laena and gave her relationship to a white woman.

Rhaenicents get so mad when you call out the blatant racism, claiming their fanon ship is “more integral to the storyline” or dismissing fan’s annoyance by saying “well I wish both Rhaenicent AND Laenyra existed” completely ignoring the fact both can’t because the HotD writers only created Rhaenicent because they’re racist.

Going back to Sansaery, the ship (even if you’re not a personal fan) is a great way to call out Rhaenicent’s white feminism. House Tyrell is sometimes race bent by fans as black characters, so imagine Game of Thrones did just that. Margaery is played by a black actress but then everything about her character is ignored so they can focus on Myrcella who now has the sapphic undertones with Sansa.

Actually Rhaenicent is more Cersei/Sansa but they don’t want to have this conversation.

Is this ridiculous? Does this make 0 sense? Are you upset your favourite white girl is being set aside now that she’s black? Well now you know why Laena fans are pissed 👍🏽

This is a wonderful point but I doubt the racists will care.

[paceypeternathanslawyer]

It's interesting to see how many reactors think that Haley has a crush on Lucas at the beginning. I think it really speaks to how we as a culture are trained to believe that if a boy and girl are friends and if a girl is complimentary to a boy her age on TV then surely she must have the hots for him.

In my opinion, it's the first really great plot twist in One Tree Hill where you believe that Haley has a thing for Lucas and then plot twist... they are completely platonic.

When I first started One Tree Hill I had kinda spoiled myself on some things about the show. Like I knew that Naley was endgame. I had also started listening to Drama Queens even before I watched the show and as a result, I knew that Haley and Lucas were Platonic friends (with a capital P :) ) So when I was watching their dynamic, I saw zero hints of any feelings. I think people are so blinded by what culture tells us about TV dynamics because to me it's so clear that Haley doesn't have feelings for Lucas but so many reactors who didn't spoil themselves didn't see it that way until later. It's not just the words she says but the way she says them and the way she looks at Lucas. It's so devoid of any kind of sexuality or sensuality or romanticism. And I really tip my hat to Joy and Chad. Platonic chemistry is such a cool thing and to be able to hit that note of friendship chemistry without it bleeding whatsoever into romantic chemistry takes talent.

I feel like the plot twist comes around the time that we see her interact with Nathan. The way she talks with Nathan is so different than with Lucas. Like the tone of her voice, the lilt of the way she says stuff, the words she says, and the way that she looks at Nathan while she says it. I think for people who are watching for the first time and haven't spoiled themselves... that's when the wakeup call happens. Like "wait, the way she talks to Lucas is so different" and you see how "platonic Haley" acts and then how "romantic Haley" acts. You learn more about the characters and the way they tick and the way they are.

It's very rare nowadays to see a TV couple that is so uncontroversial. I mean, there some weirdos who ship Haley with other people or Nathan with other people. but those people are few and far between and are rightly looked down upon by the fandom. What James and Joy did was they funneled all their romantic chemistry towards each other and when you put 110% of your romantic chemistry towards that one person then you have nothing left to funnel towards others. And you see that with Nathan and Peyton or Nathan and Brooke. They have the purest friendships but 0 romantic chemistry. Same with Haley and her friendships with Lucas, Clay etc. This is why I love Naley... they are undeniable, they are electric, and Joy and James gave 110% to their scenes together.