#but if he really is back in control I cannot imagine how exactly that happened | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osarina · 2 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 BIRDS OF A FEATHER (WE SHOULD STICK TOGETHER)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're called back to yokohama when the president of the agency and the boss of the port mafia are infected by the same ability. you know that the situation is complicated, but you don't realize just how bad it is for you until you're sitting face-to-face with dazai on the opposing side for the first time.

wordcount: 8.7k; sfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, mentions of mafia business (pmreader doing pm business!!), light angst with happy ending,

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy friday :') i hope u guys enjoy

You should have known better than to think your trip back to Europe would be uneventful. You’d hardly been away for a month, working with Tolstoy and the Three Deaths to figure out what exactly Fyodor Dostoevsky might be planning in Yokohama. The man is frustratingly good at covering his tracks, even Tolstoy’s best have been having trouble picking up his trail. You’d begun to make some progress in Rome when you got the 119 text from Chuuya, forcing you to drop what you were doing to get on the jet back to Japan.

“Are you on the way back yet?”

The urgency in Chuuya’s voice on the call only serves to stress you out more. Your eyes slide shut as you lean against your chair, ignoring your subordinate’s curious eyes as you reply with a short: “Yes, Chuuya. You sent a 119. Of course, I am on the way back, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Chuuya says tightly. “I was going to wait until you got here.”

“Obviously, I am not going to like it,” you reply. “I cannot imagine why I would ever like a 119.”

“You’re really not going to like it,” Chuuya stresses and you can’t help but sigh, bracing yourself for whatever he’s about to say. “The Boss is dying.”

“What?”

You’re on your feet in an instant, eyes wide and phone pressed to your ear as your heart comes to a painful stop in your chest. Klaus straightens where he’s sitting, the curious expression quickly shifting into concern and confusion. You know the kid is itching to ask what’s going on, but you can hardly think straight with the sudden news. Fear begins to claw at your chest—a dangerous, dangerous emotion that threatens to shut down your mind. You know you have to get it under control before it can but your tongue feels swollen and heavy and your mind has become a jumble of thoughts that you can’t decipher.

That can’t be possible. It can’t. Mori dying? The thought itself is so ludicrous that it almost makes you laugh but you know Chuuya would never joke about this.

“He and the President of the Agency were attacked by an ability user that can infect people with diseases. One has to die or both will. Unless we kill the President in the next thirty-six hours, the Boss will die.”

“Pushkin,” you spit out angrily. “That nasty roach. I’ve met him before. You called me right when it happened?”

“Yep,” Chuuya says, anxiety thinly veiled in his tone. “We just launched an assault on the Agency-”

“Dumbass,” you seethe, cutting him off. “I can’t stand you sometimes. Now we’ll have to track them down. I’ll be there in less than an hour, don’t do anything else stupid.”

You hang up the phone without another word.

“What’s going on?” Klaus calls after you curiously, but you’re already making your way to the front of the plane, pushing the cockpit door open to get the attention of the pilot.

“Fly faster.”

Dazai sighs as he rests against the pillows of the hospital bed, trying to figure out how exactly he’s going to convince the nurses to let him have his phone. His gaze drifts from his bedsheets to the window, following a bird soar past the glass into the sky as his mind races to piece together Fyodor’s plans.

By now, Fukuzawa should be safe within Lucy Montogomery’s interdimensional space; it’s only a matter of whether or not Tanizaki will be able to pull off the assassination on Mori. Dazai thinks the chances are slim—even if he does manage to get past the Black Lizards, Kouyou will be guarding Mori personally and Golden Demon will be able to sense Tanizaki through the illusion. He’ll be okay though, Dazai has Kyouka on standby as the one that’s going to extract him from the base and Kouyou will hesitate at the sight of her. He just needs to figure out a new approach. One that will be more successful.

What to do next?

For the first time in years, Dazai well and truly struggles to formulate a plan. He’s always struggled with the concept of failure and it haunts him now like an oppressive shadow hanging over his shoulders, knowing that the one man who had brought him in without hesitation, accepted him into the light with open arms despite his gruesome past, will be facing the consequences of his incapability this time.

Shit.

Despite the copious amount of pain relievers he’s on, Dazai can feel a headache coming on from the stress of this situation and Fyodor Dostoevsky. He’s never had an opponent like this before—one who can match him move for move on the chessboard, see through all of his plans, and it scares Dazai because he knows this is only the beginning and if he’s struggling now…

Dazai is drawn out of his thoughts as the door to his hospital room opens—he lifts his head, preparing round two of trying to convince the nurse to give him his phone, only to freeze when he’s met with an achingly familiar sight.

Your lips are curved up into a coy smile, his phone dangles tauntingly between your fingers. You look beautiful—always do—and Dazai’s chest flutters at the sight of you, drinking in your pretty face and basking in the warmth he only ever feels in your presence. For a second, all of Dazai’s fears are washed away because there’s nothing that he can’t handle with you at his side.

For a second, because then Dazai remembers that you’re not at his side anymore.

You’re the enemy.

“Long time, no see,” you drawl, making your way forward to take a seat on the edge of his hospital bed. “You look like shit.”

Dazai sighs heavily, the smile on his lips becoming a bit more tired as he reaches out for your hand, fingers brushing over your palm before he laces them with yours. “My sweet hime, you’re always a sight for sore eyes, but I can’t help but feel dismayed by you being back in Yokohama now.”

You being back in Yokohama makes things even more difficult for the situation at hand. Chuuya and Kouyou, Dazai could’ve outsmarted them—it would’ve been difficult with how well Chuuya knows Dazai and all of his schemes, but it would’ve been doable, if only because the man is easy enough to antagonize. But you? You won’t fall for any of Dazai’s tricks and you’ll make sure Chuuya doesn’t either.

Things just got much more complicated—he really didn’t expect them to be so quick to call you back. You and Dostoevsky at the same time, two opponents who can match him more for move when he was at the top of his game, which he’s not at with his head all fogged up with painkillers… it didn’t bode well for him or the people relying on him.

His throat tightens when you lift his hand to brush your lips against his knuckles, having to close his eyes to hide the way they mist over because of the casual intimacy that he’s only shown by you. Your fingers tighten around his as you drop your joined hands back into your lap, an unreadable expression on your face as you look at him.

“I’m so mad at you.” You smile at him but Dazai can see the way you swallow thickly, desperately trying to contain your emotions. “To walk into such an obvious trap set by Dostoevsky… To think you would try to leave me behind again so soon after our reunion. Are you so eager to rid yourself of me?”

“Never,” Dazai says hoarsely. “I knew he wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know anything about Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai.” You interrupt him, grip on his hand almost becoming painful as you glare at him. “I don’t know anything about him and I spent many months with him. How could you be so reckless?”

Dazai was not aware that you spent many months with Fyodor Dostoevsky but that’s a conversation for another time. He feels distinctly scolded as he looks away from you petulantly. “I had to-”

You reach forward with your free hand to grab his chin, forcing him to look at you, and all of the fight leaves Dazai’s body as soon as you touch his face. His lashes flutter as he instinctively leans into your touch and his throat bobs when your grip on his chin shifts into you cupping his cheek, fingers carding through the edges of his dark hair. He lets his eyes slide back open after letting himself enjoy your touch for a few moments.

“You have to be more careful,” you say quietly.

Dazai has become so entirely unused to people showing him such blatant concern that he almost can’t hide the way his eyes become wet. Of course, the members of the Agency care for him, he knows that in his heart even if it’s hard for him to come to terms with, but they do it so in a more subtle manner. They casually check in on him on his bad days, bring him food and try to get him out of his dorm when he can hardly drag himself out of bed, they know he doesn’t like it when they point out when he’s doing bad, so they’re more cunning with how they show their concern… but the way you look at him… the way you touch him…

Back in the Mafia, on his bad days even before the two of you had acknowledged how you felt for one another, you’d always sit with him and made sure he was eating. Always made sure he knew he wasn’t alone even when he did his damned best to push you away. After the two of you had acknowledged your feelings for one another, you’d let him curl in your bed and surround himself with your blankets and clothes. You’d never push him, would always be there when he needed it—he’d taken it for granted back then, because his bad days after he left the Mafia… after he left you… Dazai almost couldn’t force himself through them.

But it’s different now after going four years without it; it feels… more intense. He thinks maybe it's because he’s still convinced that you’re going to change your mind and spurn him, toss him aside the same way he did to you four years ago.

He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks, not for the first time since he’s reunited with you, and he wants to know why. Doesn’t know why you let him come back to you when he decidedly doesn’t deserve it. If this is just some big cruel joke you’re playing on him. He doesn’t understand any of this. He feels like he’s eighteen again, so scared of a relationship with you that he’d rather avoid you at any given chance.

After what feels like an eternity, your hand drops from his face and you lean back on the bed, concerned expression disappearing as you level a steady look onto him.

“Now, to talk business.” You smile and Dazai feels cold without your touch, pouting when his hand falls limp against the hospital bed. “What is it now? Thirty hours before the virus takes hold and they both die?”

“Ha!” Dazai barks out a laugh that makes him wince. “I know better than to sit on the opposite side of the negotiation table with you. Nice try.”

You give him a simpering smile. “Come, Dazai, my ability doesn’t work on you. We’re on even ground.”

“You don’t need your ability to win a negotiation,” he scoffs, but there’s a smile on his lips. “Anyway, I can’t negotiate on behalf of the Agency. You’ll have to find Kunikida-kun for that.”

“There is no winning negotiations, only-”

“Only a coming to terms, blah blah blah,” Dazai finishes for you, rolling his eyes. “I’m not negotiating with you.”

“I fear that you are going to be negotiating with me, Dazai.” You give him a sweet smile that instantly puts him on edge, folding your hands over your lap as you cross one leg over the other. “My subordinate is currently in the apartment of Haruno Kirako with her and Tanizaki Naomi. He’s waiting on orders for me to either leave or kill them. Said orders will be dependent on whether or not we’re able to come to an understanding.”

Dazai’s heart drops to his stomach, taking in a sharp breath and glancing down to his phone where it’s resting on your lap, wondering if he could snatch it and get out a SOS to the other members of the Agency before you can take it away. Your smile becomes more mocking as you toss it across the room to the couch on the opposite wall, keeping it far out of reach.

“God, you’re still a cold-hearted bitch,” Dazai breathes out, tilting his head back against the wall with a heavy breath. “This isn’t a negotiation, this is a ransom.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Close enough.”

Dazai gapes. “Close enough?”

“Close enough,” you affirm.

“What do you want?” Dazai finally asks, lips a bit twisted as he waits for your response. His fingers thrum against his thigh, mind racing as he tries to figure out what you could possibly want. Well, he knows what you want—you’ll want Fukuzawa dead to ensure Mori lives but Dazai can’t let that happen.

“Kunikida Doppo—you say he’s the acting President while Fukuzawa-dono is incapacitated?” you ask him absently, tilting your head to the side. He nods and you hum. “Set up a meeting between him and I.”

Dazai’s eyes narrow. “I’ll set up a meeting if you get your dog away from our office workers,” he counters, knowing that it’s not going to be that easy with you but he may as well try.

“You’re in no position to be making demands, Dazai,” you remind. “Why should I?”

“I’m not setting up a meeting between the two of you if you’re going to go into it with leverage over him already,” Dazai says firmly. “If you’re so set on trying to solve this through negotiation, you’ll have to give up the upper hand and meet them on even grounds.”

You stare at him for a moment, eyes too sharp and calculating for his liking. Dazai thinks that it’s entirely unfair that he has to deal with you when he’s still doped up on painkillers, but he doubts you care.

“Fine,” you finally agree, pulling out your phone and shooting a text to someone. You frown down at it for a moment before looking back up at him. “It’s done. Set up the meeting.”

Dazai has half a mind to say no. He knows that sending Kunikida to the negotiation table with you is going to be a mistake—you’re too sharp and too convincing—he isn’t sure if Kunikida’s ideals will be able to hold strong over your silver tongue. You can clearly tell that he’s considering reneging on his promise from how your eyes narrow.

You rise to your feet without another word, giving him a cool look. “I’ll be waiting for you at the teahouse in Nishi-ku that we-that the Port Mafia owns. If you haven’t arrived by the twenty-six hour mark...”

Dazai sighs your name, long and drawn out, his eyes feel heavy as he looks up at you. You pause, gaze softening for a moment as you reach out and grab his hand, squeezing it gently.

“When this is all done and over with, come by my place,” you say quietly. “I’ll have to head back to Europe soon after. I talked to the nurses, they won’t bother you when you try to leave.”

“Yeah,” Dazai says, voice a bit more hoarse than he intended for it to be. “Yeah, I’ll come over.”

You don’t say anything else, casting one last lingering look over where he’s laying on the hospital bed before turning and walking out the way you came. Dazai sighs again, slumping back against his pillows as he stares up at the ceiling, somehow feeling even worse than he did before you showed up.

Your car pulls up to the teahouse thirty seconds past the twenty-six hour mark.

“You ready?” Tachihara Michizou looks over the front seat back to where you’re sitting. Akutagawa Gin sits in the passenger seat, gray eyes curious as she looks back at you. “We could always y’know… just go in there and…”

He lifts his hand to make a finger gun, ‘pulling the trigger’ several times before giving you a pointed look. Gin rolls her eyes and raises her eyebrows, waiting for your response. You hadn’t even wanted to bring people with you, but Chuuya insisted on it—he wanted to come himself, but you felt more comfortable with him staying back at headquarters as extra protection for Mori.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you say dryly, not even bothering to acknowledge the second part of what he said.

You have yet to even see Mori despite Kouyou’s insistence that you go to him. You don’t want to see him—you heard enough from Chuuya to know that his condition is bad and you have no interest in seeing him while he’s in such a sorry state. The thought makes your heart twist uncomfortably and you can’t afford to be emotional right now.

You’ve spent the past four hours trying to plan out what you’ll do if you can’t come to terms with Kunikida and the Armed Detective Agency. The best course of action would have been to have Akutagawa, Klaus and the rest of the Black Lizards positioned around the building for a quick execution once the negotiations fall through but…

But you didn’t do that.

Your eyes flicker over to where Dazai is waiting for you outside of the teahouse; he’s leaning against the wall tapping away at his phone. He’s dressed in that same ugly outfit he wore the last time you were back in Yokohama—the long tan jacket and the bolo tie over his shirt. He probably shouldn’t be up and about already, you can tell he’s still hurt from the way he’s leaning on one side more than the other, but a distinct fondness bubbles in your chest at the sight of him.

Instantly, you push it away, throat tightening because you know you can’t be letting your emotions get the best of you. You can’t go easy on the Armed Detective Agency just because Dazai is with them now; you need to do what’s best for the Mafia.

But you don’t like this. You don’t like that Dazai is the enemy now. You spent years working alongside him, friends with him (more than friends), living with him. You’d known that things would be different between the two of you after you spent that night with him in your apartment a few weeks ago… you just didn’t think you’d be forced to confront it so soon.

Tachihara steps out of the car first and you watch as Dazai lifts his head, squinting at the sight of the boy. Tachihara makes his way to your door and opens it for you, keeping one hand ready on the grip of his gun as you step out of the car. Dazai’s expression shifts as soon as you’re in his line of view, softening just enough for it to be noticeable to you. Tachihara and Gin trail a few steps behind you as you make your way over to him, he doesn’t speak up until you’re a few steps away.

“You’re late,” Dazai sings and you can tell that even though his lips curl up into a small smile at the sight of you, he’s not happy to see you. Not because of you, but because of what your presence means. He holds out his hand to you—Tachihara and Gin are instantly stepping forward between the two of you, which Dazai evidently does not like considering the way his expression instantly darkens, only lightening a bit when you wave them off. You purse your lips as you stare at his hand for a moment. “I can’t let you go in there with your ability active.”

“I don’t need my ability against your people,” you say coolly but you place your hand in his anyway.

It’s not the first time you and Dazai have held hands but it certainly feels like it—the calluses on his hand from firearm use are gone so his skin is softer now and it feels almost… unfamiliar.

Dazai has never felt unfamiliar before.

Dazai laces his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly. Your hands don’t fit right together anymore—it feels awkward—and you wonder if it’s just in your imagination or if he feels it too. He squeezes your hand a bit harder as if trying to force them to fit together, so you think he might and that makes your heart sink a little.

He looks down at you and you think he’s going to say something, but instead his lips only tighten and his brows furrow as he looks away. You bite back a sigh, wanting to say something yourself but not even sure what would be suitable for this situation.

“Dazai,” you say quietly before the two of you head into the teahouse and there’s an unreadable expression on his face as he waits for you to say something else, but you remember that Tachihara and Gin are not a foot behind you, so you just shake your head. “Nevermind. Let’s get this over with.”

Dazai looks disappointed but not surprised. He doesn’t say anything else as he pushes open the door to the teahouse. The air is brisk and familiar, and with Dazai at your side, you can almost imagine that Chuuya is on your other, that the two of them are escorting you to a negotiation meeting with one of the big Yakuza syndicates the Port Mafia has been at odds with.

But instead of an oyabun and his advisor sitting at the table in the private room at the back of the teahouse, it’s two members of the Armed Detective Agency. And instead of Dazai taking a seat next to you, he sits at the head of the table as the pseudo-host of the meeting, the one who set it up and knows both sides… but he makes his preferences clear in the way he looks at his fellow detectives, waiting for them to give the first words of the negotiation, a tactical advantage.

Even with Tachihara and Gin lingering right behind you, you feel alone.

You almost wish you’d agreed to let Chuuya come with you—he’s familiar, the one person in this world you’ve been able to rely on without having to fear the rug being pulled out from under you. You always feel more confident when he’s at your side, but you needed him to stay with Mori, to hold down the headquarters just on the off-chance the Agency pulled something while you were busy with negotiations.

So instead, you brave this as you are, squaring your shoulders and raising your chin. You’re not worried about this meeting, you know one way or another, you’ll come out on top against the Agency, but you find yourself more unsettled than you thought you would be due to the lack of familiarity between you and Dazai… and far more disconcerted at the realization that Dazai is an enemy now.

Since he’s the host, you should be respecting Dazai’s decision of giving the detectives the first words of the negotiation, but you find yourself smiling lightly and tilting your head to the side before speaking. Petty, maybe, and disrespectful, surely, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“You must be Kunikida-san, I want to say that it’s nice to finally meet you but…” you say lightly. You squint and then add, “I can’t help but feel that you’re familiar somehow. Have we met before?”

Dazai gives you a sharp look when you speak up—deserved, but you still give him an equally sharp look back. He can’t expect you to go easy on the detectives just because he’s standing with them now, but it… makes you feel weird. You think again how much you don’t like this; you don’t like being on the opposite side of Dazai, and you especially don’t like the fact that there is a creeping fear that this might create a rift between the two of you.

What did he think would happen? You want to spit at him. He chose to leave the Port Mafia. Chose to leave you. Chose to join up with the enemy. This is on him, he’s the one who changed, you haven’t. He knew what he was getting into by bringing his new friends to the negotiation table with you, he’s been on the right side of it with you countless times before, so he knows what you’re like at the table.

Shit.

“You’re that girl,” Kunikida suddenly realizes, squinting. “You came by Granny’s apartment during that gang conflict six years ago. You… you were with the Port Mafia back then? The father you were trying to get to-”

“Yes, that was me,” you agree, remembering just where you’d seen him before, eyes gliding over the blonde man curiously. He’s a far cry from the scrawny teenager you’d met a few years ago, nervous and bumbling to write down everything his grandmother says. “How is she?”

Kunikida’s lips twist. “She passed away two years ago. A stroke.”

“Sorry to hear that,” you say genuinely, frowning, before letting your gaze drift over to the last person in the room. The smile on your lips becomes a bit cooler. “Akiko-chan, it’s been a while. I don’t think I’ve seen you since you left Tokoyami.”

There’s an indecipherable expression on Yosano’s face as she stares at you, and you can’t help the way your lips twist in irritation. You knew there was a chance that she would show up with Kunikida, but you’d been hoping that she wouldn’t. You can’t let it rattle you, but no one gets under your skin like she does—you think that’s probably why she showed, to throw you off your game and make things easier on her coworker.

She’ll find herself sorely mistaken.

The way she says your name grates your nerves—it’s solemn, almost, a hint of remorse that makes your skin crawl. She looks like she wants to say something more than what she actually does, but she settles with, “You look good, better than the last time I saw you. It’s good seeing you again.”

She sounds genuine—that only pisses you off more.

So your smile tightens as you say, “I look better? The last time I saw you, you were having a mental breakdown and nearly blew all of us up on the Ritter.”

Yosano physically cringes as she averts her gaze, and you turn your attention back to Kunikida and say, “Let’s get down to business, yeah?”

Kunikida sighs. He doesn’t look confident which is a mistake on his part, Dazai can tell too from the way his lips tightens just a bit. You give Dazai a look from the corner of your eye.

You should have prepped your people better.

Dazai gives you a sharp look right back, his fingers tighten around your hand. You ignore it. You hope you don’t look as bothered as it makes you feel, now’s not the time to show any weakness, especially to someone like Dazai. Especially when he’s not an ally.

Shit, you think again, this time a bit more distressed. You swallow your discomfort and think again: what did he expect from this? It’s only a shallow consolation this time. You push on when Kunikida starts talking.

“I don’t see how we have anything to talk about,” Kunikida says, clearing his throat. “There’s nothing you can say that can bring us to an agreement under these circumstances.”

Alright, business time. This you can do.

You just have to ignore the weight of Dazai’s hand on your own.

“You are looking at this situation from the perspective of an employee who cares for Fukuzawa-dono,” you say, leaning back in your seat and folding your hands over the table. Dazai’s hand drops to the table and he shifts to hold your wrist, giving you a side-eye as if warning you not to slip from his grasp. You ignore it. “I empathize with your predicament. I do. But we can’t let our emotions rule us when the fate of the entire city is dependent on how this conflict is resolved.”

Kunikida is stiff on the opposite side of the table as soon as you start speaking, clearly uncomfortable with this whole meeting. Yosano holds her chin high as she stares down at you and you only raise your eyebrows at her before turning your attention back to the blonde.

“You have been named the interim director of the Armed Detective Agency, and from what I’ve heard, Fukuzawa-dono intends to name you President once he inevitably retires,” you say, tilting your head to the side as you observe Kunikida. “I’ve met the man often enough to know that he wouldn’t allow a man who’s rash and emotional to lead his organization. Neither you nor I want this to escalate to open conflict. There will be too many casualties on both sides.”

“Hm,” Kunikida says, pushing back his glasses as he considers his words. “And yet, we have a way around casualties on our end, thanks to one of our own—Yosano-sensei. The Port Mafia does not have any such means.”

Yosano stiffens when she sees the smile that curves at the corners of your lips.

“Your second attempt at an immortal regiment, Akiko-chan, I hope this one fares better than your last,” you comment with an easy smile before focusing your attention back on Kunikida, watching as the man casts a curious look between you and Yosano. You wonder how much she told the Agency of your shared past—seemingly very little. “I fear that even if your doctor is able to continuously heal all members of the Agency—assuming you’re never separated, which is unlikely—repetitive death breaks the human mind. How many times will she heal you and your other detectives before your minds start to fray? I’d wager the weretiger’s mind will break first—after the fourth resurrection, between dying over and over again and watching his friends die… from what I hear, the boy is quite the gentle soul with a fragile mind. He’ll try to stay strong for your sake, but it’ll be too much for him.”

You feel Dazai’s fingers tighten on your hand in warning, clearly not appreciating the way you’re talking about his new protege and to his friends. You ignore him, but it’s harder than you expect. You don’t like this. You don’t, even with you telling yourself that this is his fault, you still find yourself bothered by it all. It hurts being at odds with Dazai like this, in a way that you never imagined you would be; he’s supposed to come to your apartment after this, but you don’t even know if he’ll show.

You don’t know if you’ll be able to look him in the eye if he does.

God, and that thought only pisses you off more, because you shouldn’t be feeling guilty over this. Not when Dazai knew what he was getting into. Not when it was Dazai’s choice to leave the Port Mafia and join the enemy. You’re doing what you’ve always done, and you’ve never felt guilty for it before, and you shouldn’t now. Not because of him.

“Our numbers overwhelm yours by a long shot. In a war of attrition, we’ll win. Your minds will break long before we run out of bodies to throw at you,” you finish, a bit more coldly than you’d begun. “There’s no scenario where you enter an open conflict with the Port Mafia and win.”

Yosano and Kunikida share a look with one another and you watch as Kunikida sighs before pressing his lips together, gaze hardening on you. “So, what do you propose? Do you just want us to hand over the President on a silver platter? Because that’s not happening.”

Phase Two.

You went into this knowing that you wouldn’t likely be able to sway Kunikida’s mind on handing Fukuzawa over to be executed, but that was never your intention to begin with. You just needed the chance to plant the seeds of doubt, to make him question himself so he can make a mistake that you can capitalize on.

Dazai realizes this from the way he stiffens, and you know he can’t be happy.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

“I want you to approach this how Fukuzawa-dono would as his stand-in,” you say. You itch to look at Dazai, want to know what’s running through his head right now. You don’t. “What do you know of the Port Mafia, Kunikida-san?”

“What kind of question is that?” Kunikida frowns, looking thoroughly displeased, but you’re unperturbed.

“Many people liken us to be the wardens of the night,” you explain, taking a sip of your tea. “We protect the city from the shadows, preventing an increase in petty and violent crime by discouraging lesser criminals who know that they’ll be hunted down for committing crimes in our territory.”

Your fingers thrum against your wine glass as you choose your next words carefully.

“It goes beyond that. Port Mafia presence in Yokohama serves as a deterrence to foreign criminal organizations-”

“A right good job you guys have been doing at that,” Yosano says snidely.

You meet her gaze for half a second before focusing back on Kunikida. “Port Mafia presence in Yokohama serves as a deterrence to foreign criminal organizations,” you repeat coolly, ignoring the interruption. “Before the arrival of the Guild, there have only been two occasions of foreign organizations invading our territory, both conflicts were handled by us. The Guild Incident occurred because of the Agency’s decision to keep the weretiger-”

“That’s not fair,” Dazai says, voice low, grip on your hand tight. “We helped him. He needed help, so I-”

Dazai cuts himself off abruptly and you remember the night you spent with him a few weeks ago. You remember Oda Sakunosuke’s last words to him. You find yourself hesitating, considering dropping the topic for his sake, but you can’t, not with so much at stake.

When you continue speaking, the words taste bitter.

“The agency’s decision to help the tiger then. Semantics. Either way, the decision laid in the Agency’s hands, not ours,” you correct, watching as Kunikida shifts uncomfortably at your words. “It wasn’t meant to be an accusation, only a statement. I’m not here to throw stones. My point is that we responded to the Guild Incident despite our attempts to prevent it from escalating, and we are not in a good position because of it. We faced major casualties at the hands of the Guild, several of our port warehouses were destroyed, one of our executives is dead—we cannot handle another conflict right now and the entire world knows it. Yokohama is being circled by sharks as we speak—Murasaki Shibiku’s Morning Glory, the Inagawa and Shimazaki-kai, Yi Sang’s Crow’s Eye, Cao Xueqin’s Red Chamber—they’re all waiting for the first drop of blood to spill in the water. If Mori dies, it’ll be as if an entire bucket of blood was spilled into the water. How well-versed are you in the organizations of the Eastern Hemisphere’s underworld, Kunikida-san?”

“Not very,” Kunikida replies tightly.

“Dazai, what does the Red Chamber do to their enemies?”

You don’t have to look at Dazai to feel the way he gives you a dark look. He pointedly doesn’t respond so you smile and answer your own question. A false bravado because you think your fingers might be trembling a little, and you’re sure that he can feel it, but you press on. You always press on.

“They have their enemies chopped into pieces and scatter all of the different pieces across the country to prevent them from ever having a proper burial,” you say, watching a ghastly expression cross Kunikida’s face as he looks away. “Then they hunt down all blood relatives and anyone vaguely associated with the person to have them fed to starving hounds. Do you know how the Crow’s Eye deals with their enemies?”

“No,” Kunikida replies. “I don’t care to know.”

“You will when it’s your entire ward burning because of you,” you say easily. “Scorched earth. The last time the Crow’s Eye had a conflict with an organization, an entire city burned for five days straight. Thousands of casualties for an insult.”

“What is the point of this?” Kunikida asks, voice strained—he does an impressive job at hiding the way he’s unnerved by your words. “Are you trying to scare us into giving you what you want? It won’t work.”

“Not at all,” you say dismissively. “I’m just making sure you know all of the cards on the table, and again, urging you to make your decision with your head and not your heart.. There is more at stake here than just two lives. Yokohama will be plunged into chaos if Mori dies… the streets will run with blood, wards will burn to the ground. The Dragon’s Head Conflict will look like child’s play compared to what’s to come, and I know you felt the effects of that conflict personally, Kunikida-san. Before making any decision, just ask yourself if this is what Fukuzawa-dono would have wanted?”

Kunikida doesn’t respond, you don’t expect him to. So, you slip your hand free from Dazai’s and rise to your feet with a thin smile.

“I’ll take my leave now so you can discuss your options with the other members of the Agency,” you tell them. “Dazai knows how to get in contact with me once you’ve come to a decision. It was a pleasure seeing you both again, Kunikida-san, Akiko-chan.”

“I warned them not to join you at the negotiation table,” Dazai sighs whimsically as he steps into your apartment. Your eyes lift from your phone to where he slides his jacket off of his shoulders and drapes it onto a kitchen chair before making his way to you on the couch. “They didn’t listen to me.”

“Their mistake. I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway, all of that was for nothing,” you say lightly, putting your phone down on the table. You don’t move toward him, watching him carefully to try to gauge where he’s at. His expression is indecipherable, but his shoulders are tense and each movement he makes seems a bit stiff and jolted. “I didn’t think you would show up.”

“Why is that?”

His tone changes at your question, becomes cooler and more withdrawn. His expression shifts too—he doesn’t turn to look at you, but you can see from the angle you’re standing the way his lips curve down and his eyes sharpen. He’s testing you for something, probably wants you to admit that he has reason to be mad at you to give him a leg up in the conversation—he’s always loved playing games like that.

“I’ve never seen you so emotional while dealing with business,” you note instead, not giving him that leverage against you. You fold your arms over your chest and study him. “It was… interesting to see.”

You’re not in the mood to play games, but you humor him. Dazai is not pleased by your comment, you can tell from the way his gaze cuts to the side to focus on you. Now, he’s familiar: his eyes are cold and black, his expression closed off. This is the Dazai you remember—the one who would sit next to you at executive meetings and stand behind you during negotiations, except even now, he’s opposite you.

You hate it.

You expect him to snap back at you with something along the lines of you being more emotional than usual too because you know he felt the way your fingers were trembling at one point during the negotiations, but instead, you watch as his expression instantly smooths out and clears up. He turns a smile onto you that doesn’t fully meet his eyes and you know what he’s about to do before the words even leave his lips.

“So, what’re we watching? There are some new movies, and I’m gonna, y’know, swipe your card to order some food, and…”

Dazai’s still talking. His lips are moving—you’re watching them move—but his words are going in one ear, out the other. You think maybe you should take the out he’s given the two of you. The conversation that needs to be had… it’s not going to be a pleasant one. In fact, depending on how it goes, it might be your last one with him.

If you guys can’t reconcile with the fact that you’re no longer on the same side, this will have to end.

You can’t go into every conflict with the Agency feeling like you’re walking on eggshells because of Dazai. Your priority has been and always will be the Port Mafia. Dazai’s decision to leave can’t affect that. You also know that if he’s actively upset with you, it will affect that, because you don’t like seeing Dazai upset, you never have and that hasn’t changed the past four years without him.

If the two of you can’t come to an understanding about it… You don’t even know if it’s possible to come to an understanding about something like this, but it’s you and Dazai, so if anyone can come to an understanding about it, it’s you guys.

“Stop,” you finally say, voice more tired than you intend for it to be. Dazai pauses and then looks at you cautiously. You wonder if he’ll make an excuse and try to run once he realizes you’re not going to let this drop—it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fled instead of confronting an issue. “Can we talk about this?”

“Talk about what?

Oh, this boy knows how to get under your skin. You stare at him for a second, lips flat and arms crossed; he doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. He’s entirely unrepentant as he stares right back at you, waiting to see if you’ll push the topic, but you don’t want to play games with him. You’ve had a long day, you’re jet lagged, you have a headache and you don’t even want to have this conversation but you know you have to have it.

“Forget it,” you finally say, shaking your head. “You can leave.”

Dazai blinks. “What?” he asks, voice laced with disbelief. “But-”

“Whether you like it or not, we have to talk about this,” you say, shrugging. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you can leave. Just don’t come back.”

Dazai stares at you. He’s hurt, you can tell from the way he withdraws at your words. For a second, you really expect him to leave; you’re tense as you watch him carefully, guarding yourself so that it doesn’t sting when he inevitably turns on his heel and goes back the way he came. After what feels like an eternity, his shoulders finally slump and he looks away, trying to figure out what to say.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, the theatrics gone as he stares at you dully. “You were cruel to them. Making digs at Yosano-sensei, tormenting Kunikida-kun with those descriptions of the foreign mafias and making him think that the President would want him to kill him. You were cruel. I didn’t expect it, I guess.”

“Dazai Osamu admitting he didn’t expect something, I almost wish I got that on tape,” you say dryly. Dazai’s expression hardens at the comment—you probably shouldn’t have said that, you know Dazai doesn’t like getting vulnerable and gets especially defensive when he does, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Before he can get all wound up, you continue, “I am cruel, Osamu. You know that.”

The fight seeps out of Dazai at your words. He looks away from you, and you make your way over to him. You lift your hands up to cup his cheeks as you take your place in front of him, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are heavy in a way that’s so unfamiliar to you—you’ve been with Dazai during his worst depression episodes, you’ve been with him when he puts up that whole front of the Demon Prodigy, you’ve seen him hurt and you’ve seen him angry, but this is… different. It’s more intense. It’s reluctant, riddled with anxiety, like there’s a deep rooted fear that he’s worried will come true.

You wonder if he’s come to the same realization as you—that if the two of you can’t talk through this, it’ll be the end.

“I’ve never been on the opposite side of it,” he confesses quietly. “I… didn’t like it.”

You… can’t really blame him for that. As much as you’ve been around Dazai while he’s been the “Black Wraith” and the “Demon Prodigy”, he’s never directed it toward you. In fact, he’s always been careful to shield you from that side of him whenever possible even though he knows that’s not necessary. You suppose you would be just as jarred if you were suddenly faced with it.

“It wasn’t directed toward you, Osamu,” you sigh, lifting your hand to run your fingers through his hair, watching the way his lashes flutter before you return to cupping his face. “You know that.”

“It was though,” he disagrees. “It was directed toward them so it was directed toward me.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. Your hands drop from his face as you look away from him, considering his words carefully and trying to figure out what to say next. This is the point of no return—either the two of you will be able to move forward, or this will be the end of your relationship. For real, this time because years apart and questions about whether the two of you are the same as you used to be is moot when your conflicting situations make your relationship incompatible.

“I can’t apologize, Osamu,” you finally say, swallowing thickly. You can feel his gaze heavy on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet it. “Not for what I did. I can apologize for how it made you feel, but not for doing it… and I can’t promise not to do it again.”

“I know,” he replies. “I don’t expect you to. It was just…different. Not in a good way. But what are we going to do about it?”

He gives you a wry smile, one that you can only match half-heartedly. You watch him carefully for a moment, taking note of the hesitant expression on his face. He tries to hide it behind a curious mask, but you can see the anxiety thinly veiled behind his eyes. After a few moments, you nod for him to follow you and sit down on the couch, holding your hand out to him.

He hesitates before taking it, and you’re careful to avoid his healing wounds as you shift to lay down and pull him along with you to lay on top of you, watching as he rests his head on your chest and lets out a shaky breath. You lift your hand up to cradle the back of his head, and his eyes slide shut. His expression is still far from peaceful, you can see how his brows remain furrowed and his lips curve down, but he’s less anxious at least.

“We’ll figure it out,” you tell him, all of the nerves that have been bugging you since the meeting wash away now that he’s back in your arms. “We always do.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he admits quietly. “I lose everything eventually… It’s inevitable, one way or another, it always happens, but I can’t handle losing you. Not ever.”

“We made it this far,” you tell him, stroking his hair. He looks up at you and his expression is uncharacteristically vulnerable, it makes your chest tighten painfully. “We’ll be fine, Osamu. We always are. We’ll figure it out… Anyway, I doubt we’ll be on opposite sides for long, I think the city is about to be in a lot of trouble. We’ll probably have to work alongside each other if we even want to stand a chance.”

You can’t help the way you grimace, looking away. With Dostoevsky’s involvement confirmed, you have way more to worry about than just the Armed Detective Agency. You’ve heard through the grapevine that Agatha Christie and the Order of the Clocktower have been actively working with the House of the Dead, and you know very well that Dostoevsky has several other organizations in the Eastern Hemisphere in his pocket—both the Crow’s Eye and the Morning Glory have done dirty work for him before, and Cao Xueqin will ride the coattails of whoever is fighting against the Port Mafia. You’re surprised that he didn’t make a move these past few days.

“What have you figured out about him already?” Dazai asks curiously, tilting his head up to look at you. He ghosts his lips against your jaw before settling his face in the crook of your neck. “Tell me what you know, maybe we can figure something out.”

Like old times, you think wistfully back to the days the two of you would lounge on this very couch as you rattled off all of the information you gathered during interrogations and negotiations. He’d absorb it all like a sponge and put together things and come to conclusions that would’ve taken you hours to get to.

But it’s not old times anymore, you remind yourself dully, absently running your fingers through his hair. Even if it’s likely that the Agency and the Port Mafia will end up working together against a common enemy in the near future, there’s no such alliance right now, so it’s risky telling him intel that could be more valuable to the Mafia if it’s the only one who is aware of it.

“Not enough yet,” you say honestly. “I was supposed to meet with Carlo Goldoni of the Family and the Pope in the Vatican before this went down. They claimed to have some intel about Dostoevsky that could be critical in the conflict with him, but I didn’t get the chance to talk to them. I’m heading back there tomorrow morning to talk to them… I’ll call you after depending on what they say. Maybe we can debrief.”

Maybe a reckless decision considering there’s the off chance that Mori refuses to work with the Agency and you know that he’ll be on your ass for giving them information, but the way Dazai smiles softly against your neck makes up for it.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, and then he lets out a huff of laughter that tickles your neck. “But don’t tell me anything in detail, just enough to let me guess, that way if Mori questions you about it, you can say you didn’t tell me and not be lying… We can make a game out of it.”

Not quite like old times, but you suppose things will never go back to how they were. That’s not necessarily a bad thing though, different can be good—better, even. All that matters is that it’s you and him, just as it's always been, and if it’s the two of you, things will always work out.

His hand slides down to entwine with yours, and this time there’s no question about it—it’s familiar, like home, your hands slot together like they’d been made for each other and you almost feel stupid for questioning things so hard earlier in the day.

“Yeah,” you agree with a soft smile. “Yeah, we can. We’ll be alright.”

Dazai presses his lips against the hollow of your neck, and then to your jaw, and then to yours. You can feel his lips curve up against yours—he steals one, two, then three kisses before he sighs and nuzzles his face into the side of yours, resting his head down on the pillow next to you.

“We will be.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader

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loud-mouth-loser · 2 years ago

Text

not him

summary: you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows.

pairing: marc spector x reader

rating: angst

warning: drunk kiss, one-sided pining, (kinda) cheating, angst, feelings (?)

w/c: 2.7k

a/n: sometimes you just need to feel needed

part two

----

Steven is the type of guy who has no idea what to do with his hands. But when it comes to you, he’s all hands on deck. He’s touchy and you think it’s partially because he’s touch-starved.

And you are too, but in a different way.

Where he craves for touch, you simply cannot process the feeling. It’s foreign. Overwhelming. You’re just not used to it.

But you pull through it because you like him.

And he has no idea.

Steven Grant, the most clueless man in London, gently grasps your hand like you’re not about to keel over from the mere presence of him. You never imagined yourself harboring a massive crush on your best friend, but it’s happened. Or, it’s been happening.

Steven sees you as a safe and reliable friend – one that wouldn’t get the wrong idea if he were to cuddle behind you or play with your hair. And he’s right, in a way. You do understand exactly what his intentions are. And that is nothing.

You’re one to never get your hopes up. Preferring to expect the worst so you’re never disappointed in the end. So you’re fine just being there for him because you’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.

He’s adorable really. At first glance you may think he’s a quiet bookworm, looking for a nice spot against the wall to live out the rest of his days, but really, if you give him a chance, he’ll talk for hours. And you’ll listen.

He has a higher-pitched voice than you might’ve expected. His British lit takes it up a notch and you think it’s endearing. He can go on and on about different Egyptian mythological stories, telling each one with details that you swear can only be known by those who were actually there experiencing them.

His eyes light up with a sparkle of his own that you crave to see whenever he’s around. It’s that type of look that spreads his passion and curiosity to whoever's around. You’ve never experienced passion like that until you met him.

And you want more. You’ll always want more. But…it’s too late.

Steven is taken. No – actually he’s married. Well, let’s take a couple of steps back, he’s actually two guys: Steven and Marc.

Marc, the American pessimist, is actually married to a woman named Layla and has been for years now. He just decided to show himself out of the blue one day and now he’s part of Steven. Or he always was a part of Steven, just a hidden one.

Steven, the romantic he is, quickly clicked with Layla and has been chasing after her like a love-sick puppy ever since. And much to Marc’s displeasure, he’s formed a bond with her.

“...And we kissed, can you believe it?” There’s that sparkle again. “I swear to you, she has the softest, most wonderful lips.” He drones on and on about Layla and you can tell it’s all genuine and innocent, which makes it so much worse. “She’s strong and brave, and possibly the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.”

She’s…perfect.

The back of your neck prickles with heat as he continues, “I know I’ve only known her for a couple of months, but I think – no, I know that I love her.” There’s a tingle at the back of your throat that tightens at his words, threatening to burn your eyes with tears if you’re not careful. You swallow it back, jaw clenched to control yourself.

After a moment, his warm brown eyes bore deeply into yours, thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. You force a small smile at him, holding back the urge to pull your hands away from his. “That’s great, Steven. I’m so happy for you.”

You’ve never been so jealous.

—

Turns out you weren’t the only one unhappy with the news. Apparently, Marc punched Steven in the jaw when it happened (meaning he technically punched himself), telling him to stay away from his wife, but, of course, that didn’t stop Steven and Layla from seeing each other after.

So that’s how you formed an unexpected friendship with Steven’s other half. It’s nothing like Steven and Layla, you are simply just friends. Disgruntled friends at that. Drinking buddies if you want to be more accurate.

You’ve shared a case of beer with Marc countless times. Steven sleeps early so as soon as 10 pm rolls around, you’re stuck with Marc. Well ‘stuck’ is a bit harsh, but being that Steven is your preferred company at any time of the day, it’s true.

But you’ll admit, it’s not that bad.

He actually talks to you, sometimes. You were surprised the first time you got him to open up about how he and Layla were married, but separated. Apparently, being the righteous man he is, he suddenly made the executive decision to move away for her safety, worrying that his work as an avatar could put her in imminent danger. No wonder Layla was less than jazzed to find out about his life in London.

You knew a little bit about Marc and the Egyptian god, Konshu, but because it has never really directly affected your life, you’ve never fully believed it. The random bouts when Steven has disappeared, however, have been worrying, but Marc filled in the gaps pretty well while making sure to refrain from sharing any sensitive information. You realize Marc probably doesn’t have many friends he can trust with any information at all, so you’re willing to stay and listen like you would for Steven. And it’s fine. You’re content with the dynamic.

Marc is just different. More serious, less…gentle.

But don’t get it wrong, Marc can be enjoyable, even funny sometimes. Sometimes. He has this dry sense of humor that you never expected from him and sometimes it feels like he’s actually engaging in conversation instead of him talking at you. And when he’s in a really good mood, he even flirts with you for the hell of it. You never take it seriously, but that is something Steven doesn’t like – and he hasn’t even seen the half of it. You brush it off, believing Steven is just being protective while Marc instigates as much as possible to get back at him.

Tonight is one of those good nights. It started normally: Steven went to bed, Marc got out of bed, and you’re now letting old episodes of a sitcom run in the background as you trade stories about the horrible drivers you’ve encountered in the past.

“ – Then the guy stops in the middle of the road, green light, and everything, and opens his trunk because he wanted to change his shirt!”

Marc’s eyebrows are high on his head as he listens animatedly. “Right there?” His hand is wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer that’s half-drained already. He’s on his fifth, you’re on your third. It’s one of the heavier nights, but neither one of you mentions anything.

“Yes! Right there!” You smile against the mouth of your bottle at the sound of his deep chuckle. It’s so different from Steven’s, but you still enjoy hearing it. Maybe even strive to hear it. You take a deep swallow of your drink then set it down on the crowded coffee table. It’s littered with books, bottles, and a few remotes for various parts of the tv.

“Did you drive around him?”

“No, he was taking up two lanes with his crooked-ass park job! Oh my god, people were so pissed, honking and yelling at the guy – He didn’t even care!” You like him like this, light and open, like everything in his past has evaporated off his shoulders. You can see prominent smile lines at the corner of his eyes as he laughs at the story. Sometimes you wonder who put them there. Steven or Marc. Or was it a joint effort?

The energy in the room dies down as you close the story, but it doesn’t bother you. You just wait for him to continue the conversation, to do his part. That’s how this works: you speak, then he speaks, then you go again.

But he doesn’t, not this time.

You look at him, expecting a dumb question or controversial take on something like usual, but he just stares right back, eyes half-lidded. You’ve never seen that look before.

There’s never any real silence when you and Marc hang out – and even when there is, there really isn’t. That’s why the TV is always on, so you never have space to think. Like really think. It’s like having music play as you eat dinner: the noise plays over the sounds of obnoxious chewing and utensils scraping against plates.

You need that sound. Without it, you wouldn’t be able to sit here next to him. But sometimes it’s not enough. This time it’s not enough.

This silence feels different, even as the muffled voice of the TV drones in the background. It’s unnerving and it settles around you, like fine dust over furniture.

“Is that a new shirt or somethin’?” He sits up slightly against the arm of the couch, eyes sweeping over your body, “I swear, I’ve never seen your cleavage from this angle before.”

“Marc!” You cross your arms over your chest, “Stop looking you perv!” Your face blooms with heat, though it’s already quite warm from the alcohol you’ve been drinking. He has a teasing grin on his face, but his eyes convey something else.

“Mhm…You wore that for Stevey didn’t you?” His words come out in loops, slurred slightly from the drinking challenge you had earlier in the evening.

“And?” Your ears burn as you confirm his suspicions, “What if I did?”

One of his eyebrows lifts in amusement, “You know he’s in love with my wife, don’t you?”

You frown at him, “Yes, Marc. I’m aware.” Your hand reaches for your bottle of beer if only to have something to look at other than those familiar eyes of his. The label is starting to rub off from the perspiration on the glass.

“Then why do you keep trying?” You feel exasperated. Why do you keep trying? You know Steven’s feelings and intentions, and none of them relate to you. You’re his best friend and he’s…well, he’s taken. You’ve never wanted to risk losing your friendship with him, but at the same time, you’ve never lost hope.

“I… don’t know.” Your skin itches. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Usually, you and Marc would spend a few hours taking turns talking about nothing then you’d call an Uber home and see Steven in the morning.

“Well…He’s an idiot.”

“What –”

Marc sits up, body almost leaning into your space, “Steven has no idea what’s right in front of him.”

“Marc,”

A hand catches yours and you’re thrown back to that day when Steven told you his feelings for Layla.

You are sitting in the exact same position on the couch as that day: you and him, hand in hand and face to face. But this is different. This time Steven’s mouth is telling you exactly what you want to hear.

“You’re beautiful.” But it’s not him.

Marc’s gaze searches your face for a reaction, but all you can do is stare back and look into those soft brown eyes. They have that sparkle. The same look you’ve longed to be directed at you since you met Steven.

You almost give in to that look, wanting to soak in the eagerness flashing in his eyes, but you don’t. You try to take your hands from his hold but he pulls you closer instead. His face is barely a few inches away from yours.

“We shouldn’t…” Your voice is low in a mere whisper. Like you’re sharing a secret.

He smells like him, and he should, you suppose, but it’s still odd to think about how Steven and Marc share a body while being completely different people.

His eyes are different though. His brows sit lower, almost grazing against his dark lashes, infinitely more intense than Steven’s curious look. He’s more alert, or at least, less tired than Steven. And somehow, Steven’s sleepless eye bags disappear when Marc takes control.

But he also looks at you differently. At first, he didn’t look at you at all. He was standoffish, uninterested, and unimpressed. But now, his eyes bore into you and pin you in place. He’s more than looking at you, he’s devouring you. And you like it.

“We shouldn’t…” He echoes your words almost like he’s agreeing, but his eyes flit down to your parted lips directly contradicting your shared sentiment. “But I want to.”

“I-...” He follows your tongue as it pokes out and wets your lower lip nervously, his eyes are nearly glazed over with desire. His hand cups your jaw gently and he slowly tilts your face to look at him. You lean into his touch, craving the feeling of his calloused skin against yours.

Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in, but the kiss never comes.

Instead, a soft sigh brushes your mouth as he holds you close, barely a few centimeters from meeting your lips.

He whispers low with his eyes trained on your parted lips, voice strained with desperation and need, “Please…let me kiss you, sweetheart.” He sounds so broken, yet so sure of this. Like he’s been waiting for this his whole life. You let out a small whimper at his words, unable to hold in how much you want him. His forehead rests against yours, “Tell me you need it as much as I do.”

You attempt to push against him, to capture his lips with yours, but he doesn’t let you. His hand keeps you just far enough to keep you from what you want. “Please.” You beg. Rather than giving in, he parts even further from you and you’re met with that hungry look of his once more.

“Say it.” He sounds so serious, his voice low and rough, but you can tell he wants it as much as you do. He needs this. He needs to hear it.

“I-I want it.” Your hands come up to cradle his face, “I want you to kiss me, Marc Spector. I need you.” The last word is barely audible as you crowd closer to him, nose nudging against his as you lean in.

You feel yourself melt against him as his lips meet yours, warm, soft, and bitter from the beer. There’s an unexplainable feeling that zips up your spine when he kisses you back, hungrily moving his mouth against yours.

You didn’t know a kiss could feel this good.

There’s a push and pull as you move against each other. As the kiss deepens with desire it’s abated by a softened touch as light as a whisper. You love the small sighs he lets out when you sweetly pull back, letting him chase your lips for softer, more playful nips. And then the deeper sounds when you’re flush against him, eagerly drinking him in.

By now, you’ve been pulled onto his lap, legs straddling comfortably over his. His chest rumbles with a groan as your tongue brushes against his, desperately taking in his intoxicating taste. You lean further into him, needing to feel his body against yours.

Your hands drift from his jaw into the soft curls of his hair, tugging gently at the ends, if only to hear that breathless groan of his once more. His hands wrap around your waist and drop to squeeze at your hips, holding you closer as if you aren’t already fully against him.

At some point, you have to break the kiss, if only for a second of air. You look at each other breathing heavily, wrapped around one another, unwilling to part any further.

Silence hangs in the air, but it’s light. Barely even there.

You look at him, and he looks right back, lips swollen with love, or at least the adjacent.

You let out a breath, more like a sigh of relief, when you see it: that sparkle. It’s still there.

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight #steven grant x layla el faouly

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bamfkeeper · 4 months ago

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Religious Differences

RQ: 'Hiiii if you're comfortable could you write some angst/hurt/comfort where a non-religious reader finds comfort in Kurt's religion and teachings during a hard time? If that makes sense? I've never been particularly religious myself (on the fence about spirituality), but in the past I've found great comfort in friends/family and their religious beliefs when things went awry. Idk something about the mutual comfort and respect towards eachother's ideologies and just talking about different religions and ideas brings me comfort when I'm feeling down :)' - @citiirose

Warnings: GN!reader, religious themes, unedited.

A/N: I felt this rq. I am not religious, but I've had religion shoved down my throat by my parents. For a long time I resented religion, now I don't care as long as it's not pushed on me. I always thought this would be an interesting dynamic with Kurt. This was a little hard to write, but I hope I did a good job getting that comfort in there. I kept the troubles vague, so you could possibly come back and get comfort in any scenario.

WC: 1.4k

Faith in something unseen is almost cruel.

Especially when life threw you curveballs and you had no idea how to swing back.

You never felt the need or desire to believe in teachings spewed from a book older than you could imagine, especially not with all the science and proof saying otherwise. Everything contradicted each other, and a belief in any kind of faith felt confusing. Even learning, you never felt that pull that others do, your faith in an invisible force didn't exist.

Lately, life had been hard. Events were happening that effected you in such a way that you began to feel as though you yourself were crumbling. Nothing was helping you, you felt completely and utterly alone. You were always so strong, yet...you wished you didn't have to be. Or that you had someone around that would help you through it. You were just too stubborn to reach out on your own.

The only person who could always help you feel better was Kurt. He always knew exactly what to do and say to lift your spirits. The kind-hearted Catholic was always the shoulder you needed to cry on, offering you a safe space to express your emotions. His entire presence was incredibly calming for you, wrapping you in a sense of peace and understanding. Kurt could read you like a book, intuitively sensing your needs and providing the comfort you sought. In times like these, when everything felt overwhelming, you could really use that kind of compassionate support.

As if right on queue, the blue German teleported to you with a loud BAMF and purple smoke. He looked at you, his usual charming smile displayed on his face. "Ah, liebe!" he grinned, those fangs poking out of his lips, "I thought we could..." his smile faded slightly as he took in the sight of your sad form. "Ach....what's the matter, liebling?" his voice quieted with his question and he sat down beside you.

"Talk to me, ja? What's going on?" he asked gently, his arm wrapped around your waist and he let you lean on him. His tail wrapped around you too, brushing your leg. He was always so patient with you, his presence was grounding in the swirling thoughts you were having. You almost felt like you were caught in a typhoon, and he had become the shelter you needed for safety.

You slowly opened up and told him of what was going on. You spilled it to him, he was so easy to talk to. Kurt, being the wonderful listener he was, sat quietly and nodded along. He acknowledged everything you said, remembering bits and pieces he would ask about later. Your rant and vent made you feel so lost.

"I just...don't know what to do anymore. Or how to feel. I am...I feel as though I can't control my thoughts or help to think about what happens once everything is gone." You turned to him, "You are always so secure...how do you do it?"

Kurt smiled back, "Ah, I always find comfort in my faith. God is always there, so I am never truly alone. Sure, I cannot see him, but I can always talk to him. My faith is my light and it will always guide me through the dark." Kurt always spoke kindly about his faith, and it made sense. He had his rosary, always, and whenever he needed to, he'd fiddle with it.

You felt bitter. For some reason. Why was Kurt so secure, why weren't you? You were always so sure of things but something as unknown as faith irked you. Kurt was so sure and devoted, you were so upset with everything in your life it made you want to snap at him. You knew that wasn't right, so you held back. He didn't deserve that. But you couldn't help but feel mocked by the very thought of it.

"How are you so sure?" The sharpness in your tone was obvious, "I mean...you can't talk to him really. He doesn't respond back. And, how are you so sure he is real? The books have been rewritten thousands of times, lost in translation. How are you so sure you're even following what he wants? If you believe that." You asked him, you weren't sure how he was so devoted to something that seemed impossible. "Science explains everything the book does. How are there dinosaurs, but no people for millions of years? Or, if they did exist, how did humans survive? Humanity didn't start happening until way later in life. You can't just ignore the facts life has."

He didn't look offended by your questions, he had been asked them many times. He smiled and held his rosary, rolling the beads between his fingers. "There are ways to look around it, God's teachings can seem confusing with what science can explain. Sometimes, faith extends past what you can see with your eyes, and you have to see with your heart and soul. Then you allow it to guide you."

Your brow furrowed with confusion, you couldn't imagine doing that yourself. You just couldn't believe it, and thinking on all the stories that come with Catholicism, you just couldn't pair them with what you knew. Science was there, the stories were vague and the teachings didn't make sense to you. "I still don't get it. There are so many things that tell you the truth. Explanations that don't rely on God, who's essentially an invisible, flying orb in the sky."

Kurt nodded, "Ja, that is true, but as I said, you have to open your heart and allow it to come in to understand it." He rubbed your arm and smiled, "Not everyone can, and that's okay. I know how you feel, and how it might seem...odd. That I am so devoted to something you don't understand. I'm happy to teach you, or talk to you about it..."

You thought for a bit, looking to him and fiddling with the end of the rosary he still held. You weren't sure if you could touch it, but he hadn't moved away. "This might be a weird request but...can you tell me some?"

"Tell you some what?" Kurt tilted his head.

"Some stories. I don't know I just...I think that even if I don't believe like you do...it would help me feel better." You muttered, feeling embarrassed for asking him this, hoping he wasn't offended. He heard the hurt in your voice, he was surprised you asked this, knowing you weren't faithful like he was. Still, who was he to deny you such a simple thing? His grip on you tightened and he leaned into your hair. "Of course, liebling..." he situated you both so he was sat back on your bed, pulling you to lay on him.

After you were cozy, he rubbed your back and told you all the common stories first. Of Eden, of the Ark, the Lion's Den, the Giant, all the classic known ones. As he spoke, he told them in such detail, his voice calm and even. He spoke of the teachings, of the great splitting of the sea, he told both the kindness and power. He told of the faith and love. He was passionate without overwhelming you.

For the most part you listened, letting your eyes close as he spoke and hummed to you. But you of course had your thoughts and questions. Kurt happily answered them, glad you seemed interested. He respected your ideologies, even if you didn't believe like he did. He was still happy to teach you and tell you stories when you felt down like this. He had such understanding, he was respectful and didn't push his faith onto you.

"We are never truly alone, he watches over all of us. He protects us and provides us with comfort. He guides us, helps us through the difficult decisions we may make or is there for us when we need someone. We are of God, even with our...unique...abilities, or appearances. We are the same on the inside, and we are all loved." Kurt looked down, seeing you were close to sleep.

"That's it, liebe..." he smiled and kissed your forehead tenderly, "You will always be loved, even if you don't believe. He loves you, as do I. Rest, your troubles will fade away...I will be with you throughout them. If you don't feel like trusting in God, then trust in me." he hummed gently to your sleeping form, keeping you close and secure, his arms wrapped protectively.

He wished he could take the pain away, but what he could do was be there for you, and he would be no matter what happened.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #xmen #x men #x men 97 #🎠my works

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yumecel · 16 days ago

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Attitude Adjustment

💞 yandere/dark![zhongli, wriothesley, dottore, pantalone, yae] / f!reader | headcanon list

summary: how do some dark!genshin characters react when they think you’ve given them enough attitude?

tws: dead dove. there’s definitely traces of my misogyny kink in this shit my bad. humiliation, infantilisation, public humiliation. yandere, again humiliation, degradation

a/n: uueuagghugh. euieuegah. hahaurgh.

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know this will haunt me in the world to come should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

Zhongli

- You cannot tell me this man doesn’t just straight up spank you

- Wouldn’t dare to do it in public modern-day Liyue though, but you’d know exactly what’s waiting for you once you get home when you look into his eyes

- For the meantime, he’s all whispered reminders, gentle, then a little firmer, then authoritative

- I imagine older Zhongli is quite lenient with disrespect, simply tells you how unbecoming it is to act like this, that he’s more than willing to listen to your concerns if you use your adult words…

- As for a younger Morax, he. Well. He kinda just goes for it. He’d lean over with a gaze so penetrating you couldn’t dare to make eye contact, and ask politely, restrained, for an apology

- If you didn’t give it, it wouldn’t matter who you were in front of, he doesn’t find it remotely funny, he doesn’t care- anyone who previously witnessed your disrespect towards him would also witness how he was a man that was unafraid to keep his wife under control.

- You’d be over his lap before you could process what was happening, begging for his mercy with words that spill out involuntarily with every smack searing against your rear

- And he’d probably find a corner for you to stand in too, nose to the wall, bare ass to the room. Good luck making eye contact with anyone else in the room after that experience.

Wriothesley

- He’s pretty communicative, so you get a lot of chances. And a lot of warnings.

- He’s happy that you can resolve things easily most of the time. Ever the reasonable man. But when you don’t, or when you push him on a day where he just wants to sit back and relax with his beloved, well….

- Also a little inclined for a traditional over-the-knee spanking, but really, testing a guy with access to a variation of prison equipment is like a lucky dip where every prize is humiliating and/or painful

- He can use restraints so intense you have to beg him to accommodate all of your needs, all the while he asks “And what do you say?”, making you mutter out defeated thank-yous

- He can switch out all your clothes just as easily, keep you entirely in the nude in his office as you earn it back piece by piece

- The mere threat of revealing a little too much about your situation to the prisoners often works

- Do you really want everyone to know you’re his bitch? Forget keeping things to the bedroom, he’ll fuck you over his office desk and not stop until the entire fortress hears you screaming his name

- Or at least, that’s what he says. And he is a firm believer in the idea that good dick is a good attitude adjustment. There’s something about begging to cum that really quells your snippy remarks!

Dottore

- First off, you’re insane for even trying anything

- You actually have to hope here that he just gets a little turned on and not irritated enough to perform inhumane experiments on you that will permanently destroy your ability to give him any attitude (he may also be a little turned on during this.)

- He definitely has the means to make a 1:1 replica of his dick and gag you with it whilst he gets on with some work. Just confined to choking and drooling as he hums to himself like you’re actually saying anything meaningful

- And honestly, Dottore would really appreciate a bitchsuit. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically a bondage suit that confines you to all-fours, walking on elbows and knees. That and a shock collar. Act like a bitch, be treated like…

- Would laugh a little as he watches you struggle to move from place to place. There’s something a little cute about it; you, so small and insignificant that you’re crawling on the floor at the whims of your master, reduced to less than nothing

- Probably makes you lick his boots clean in that state to “prove” you do actually respect him

- Don’t invoke this side of him too often. He might end up getting the idea that he can train you to perfection using well placed electrodes and vibrators…

Pantalone

- When he stops calling you ungrateful and goes dead silent, that’s when you know you well and truly messed up

- There would likely be a huge amount of control he exerts over you in the first place, you’re his doll, his plaything, his dearest treasure

- He has some business connections that wouldn’t bat an eye to the sight of you on your knees in front of him, mouth slowly wrapping around his cock as his hand presses against the back of your head

- Dignity is truly a privilege around him. And he’s kind enough to keep you fully clothed around these unsavoury people. Fail to repay him and he will start counting up the debts

- With the threat of something greater, with the threat of something like a permanent collar or being sent to Dottore or Sandrone, you’ll find yourself doing whatever he says.

- So if he tells you to stop covering yourself and sit on top of his desk, spreading and rubbing your pretty pussy for his esteemed guests, you’ll do it.

- If he tells you to edge yourself throughout the whole thing, you will do it. If he wants you to speak only in barks for the rest of the day, you will do it. If he wants you in a certain position, you’ll hold it for as long as he wants. If he wants you on a leash, crawling alongside him on your hands and knees, you will endure the aches.

- You’ll kiss the ground he walks on before you disrespect him again. Show some reverence for the man that gives you everything.

Yae Miko

- This woman has an expertise in all manners of humiliation and degradation

- And she’s usually very tolerant of the banter that takes place between you two. But that doesn’t apply to absolutely everything

- Present yourself as difficult and she’ll simply say “Oh? Is that how you really feel?” with a devious grin on her face

- To be honest, she looks forward to times like these. No holds barred.

- She has a lot of choices. Could she put you in something revealing and make you promote Yae Publishing House’s next book signing? You’d look adorable in a pair of pink fox ears and a tail plug, maybe a skimpy little shrine maiden costume

- Ah, but that’d be the repayment. She still has the actual punishment to consider.

- Probably invents some ancient transgression you’ve committed against her all so she can punish you “traditionally”

- This involves putting you in stocks outdoors paddling you thoroughly for being so terribly disrespectful in the presence of the Grand Narukami Shrine. This will, naturally, be in broad daylight. Just pray she doesn’t invite people to watch.

- A few days later, you’ll approach her quietly at the edge of the book signing, hoping the customers don’t notice too much of your reddened thighs and ass

- “Please, Miko, can you take out the plug? It’s starting to-“

- You’re interrupted as her hand dives under the costume, finding your clit easily with the lack of underwear. Her thumb circles it so gently, so lightly. You try to stand perfectly still but shake when two fingers dive inside your pussy, curling so quickly your knees start to buckle

- She pulls them out, spreading them so you can see the humiliating amount of slick. “Are you sure you’re not enjoying this?”

- Holding her fingers up to your mouth, you obediently lick your juices off her fingers.

- As she wipes off any residue on your thigh, you remain quiet.

- “Back to work now. You still have two more hours.”

- You try to check your inner thighs for any signs of this encounter, but the way she grabs your wrist tells you that you’re not allowed.

- You turn your back on her and return to the signing, but not before she gropes your abused rear

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere wriothesley #yandere zhongli #yandere dottore #yandere pantalone #yandere yae miko

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autumnmobile12 · 5 months ago

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All right, here's the thing about the Todoroki fire-users.

Most forms of glass melt at a temperature of 1,400°C to 1,600° C.

Orange flames have a range of 1100°C to 1200°C.

So unless either of them can exceed the 1400°C threshold and get into the white flame range (1300°C - 1500°C), Shouto and Endeavor cannot melt glass.

But with a blue flame that burns 1,400°C-1,600°C, this bitch sure can.

So now that in the Ambush Simulation AU I've revealed Nine and his entourage are the LoV, imagine the opening scene of Heroes Rising:

Whichever henchmen they've hired to transport the cargo in that car chase scene are careening down the highway, the Pros are in pursuit...and so's the Vanguard.

Car accidents caused by the fleeing villains have put Rock Lock and company out of commission, but Shimura's motorcycle can maneuver through just fine, so he and his passenger are still in the game like it's a Greek chariot race. Nobody really knew the Vanguard was going to make an appearance, nobody knows how they got the info on what was happening, but hey, they're provisionally licensed and can operate under Pros now, so no one's going to complain about the extra manpower on their side.

So my thoughts and prayers are with the poor driver of the armored vehicle whose sole job is to focus on the road. He just wants to survive the night without getting arrested, his comrades can worry about the Pros behind them, he's more concerned about the Pros blockading the road in front of them, one of whom is Endeavor. He's not paying attention to that loud thunk he heard on the roof.

Things are already looking a little sticky...

...and then this crazy bastard appears in the windshield and starts melting the glass. Not breaking it; it's too thick to break without a weapon. Just slowly melting it so the poor guy has enough time to contemplate and regret some key life choices.

(There's a very specific image in my head here and it's the drowned corpse scene from the anime Ghost Hunt if anyone's familiar with that one.)

Anyway, the getaway driver just panics and veers over the guardrail and down the mountainside as it goes in the film, which pretty much leaves Shimura to stop his bike and stare alongside Endeavor down at the path of destroyed vegetation in horror as the sound of screeching metal fades to silence.

Shimura: ....

Endeavor: .... *slowly turns to look at Shimura*

Shimura: *doesn't look up* Hey, don't look at me. You created that monster.

...

And recall that scene ends with Endeavor heading down the hill to investigate the crash and finds Hawks already there:

Touya: What's the situation with my leg? It feels like it's either been broken or impaled.

Hawks: Actually, it's both. That's an...impressive compound fracture.

Touya: All that and I only got a busted leg? *sits up* Oh, no wait, fuck, there's two of you and Endeavor's multiplying.

Endeavor: *fed up* ....scared me to death, you shit for brains. Where's the League?

Hawks: I think they managed to warp out at the last minute. Genius here is the only body I found breathing or otherwise.

Touya: *cackling* Shut the fuck up, Feathers!

...

Shimura: You have got to stop smiling like you regularly devour the souls of small children and their pets.

Touya: *adrenaline wearing off, pain finally setting in* I have no idea what you're talking about.

Rock Lock: *standing over both of them* Exactly what was your plan back there?

Touya: Obviously, I was thinking I could get control of the steering wheel. Not my fault the driver had the nerves of a dandelion. Also, I'm not the one who thought chasing down an armored vehicle with four-door sedans was a good idea, so why I am the only stupid one here? Now everyone be quiet, my head is splitting and I just suffered the indignity of being carried away from an accident by my father.

Endeavor: Carrying you was easier when you were four.

Touya: The last time you carried me is when I was four!

#my hero academia #touya todoroki #hawks #endeavor #heroes rising #ambush simulation #alternate universe #offshoot #tenko shimura #dabi #keigo takami #enji todoroki #shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #league of villains #vanguard action squad

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orphiclovers · 7 months ago

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Okay. Long incoherent rambling theory post ahead. Specifically, I want to talk about how the Han Sooyoung 'split' happened/how Han Sooyoung got the avatar skill, extrapolating from canon where I can and headcanoning the rest.

Let's start from what she herself says on the topic. 3rd rounds Han Sooyoung tells Kim Dokja, in a conversation about how 'Avatar' works, that the very first time she made an avatar, she gave it too many memories and it 'went out of control' and ran off. This was a friendly conversation and hsy brought it up herself, so there's not really a reason for her to lie here - this is probably close to how she actually remembers the situation.

Which is interesting because 1863rd rounds Han Sooyoung denies this fact and says SHE is the main body and that she left an avatar behind to act as her. Now 1863 could be lying here to unbalance kdj, they were having a battle of words at the time with lying being an explicit part of the game, but she could also be telling the truth and maybe 3rd just doesn't know she's an avatar (like 49%). we don't get a comfirmation either way so that is left ambigous. So. That's a dead end.

Then, how does the Avatar skill evolve in general?

Kim Dokja says the requirements to evolve it is that you need to be in a creative field of some kind (so you have an 'Author' attribute) + under enough psychological distress for your mind to 'split' in a way that orv compares to DID (in not the most tactful way). It's a rare skill so I'm guessing it probably requires both of these to be true at the same time. A key hint is that we do actually get one other example of someone evolving the Avatar skill on screen. 1863rd rounds Yoo Joonghyuk. It goes like this:

So...not exactly a fun time. But actually I'm sensing a pattern here. Both Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung, after evolving and using the avatar skill for the first time end up as two sepetate autonomous entities with their own free will - 1863rd!hsy and 3rd!hsy and white and black coat wearing yjh respectively (Kim Dokja too actually - with 49% 51%). So, I think this might be how the skill functions, spontaneously splitting you in half the first time and then both halves of you can make avatars at will after that. Let's assume this is true for the sake of the theory. This conflicts with the way both Han Sooyoungs describe it - they both say they 'created' an avatar the first time BUT I think neither of them were being entirely truthful.

Let's talk about that second parameter. 'Severe psychological distress' in a way similar to that of DID. How I interpret this, based on what we see of 1863rd!yjh, is that there needs to be some fundemental dissonance of core beliefs that cannot exist or be held at the same time, so requires the soul to split in half. For Yoo Joonghyuk it's 'I want to live/I want to die.' (Although Kim Dokja doesnt get the skill in the natural way, I think this concept still holds true. His dissonance is not so explicitly stated but maybe it's something along the lines of 'epilouge/eternity' i.e 'happily ever after OR atonement for his (percieved) sins'.)

But also there's an element of, how do I say this...'purifying self-destruction' to how we see our trio use Avatar. Yoo Joonghyuk takes the blackened and traumatized part of him that wants to die and kills it with a sword, leaving only the part of him that still has hope to regress to the 3rd round, free and unburdened by the weight of bad memories.

You could interpret 51%/49% this way too. The inherent act of Kim Dokja choosing to use this skill to split his soul in half means he did not see another way foward - that psychological distress and belief dissonance is an inherent part of this skill. 49%, the one who get's the 'happily ever after' does not remember needing Ways of Survival, maybe because Kim Dokja couldn't imagine himself having a happy ending with the weight of those specific memories.

But coming back to Han Sooyoung. Just look at the way she uses Avatar in kaizenix. She is a person who does not enjoy being emotionally vulnerable so in any heavy situation she clings to her dry and witty personality like a shield.

Let's just fully realize what she's saying here. When she says she erased the memories of her life deliberately, what she means is that she created an avatar, a sort of 'black coat wearing han sooyoung' and killed it again and again, every year, so she could keep that sarcastic and light hearted attiude. Otherwise she would have become someone like 1863rd rounds Han Sooyoung - hardened and unhappy. And I mean that she literally was on the path of becoming her - she even got 1863rds skill.

She deliberatley brushes off Kim Dokja and doesn't acknowledge the weight of her actions in kaizenix, both waiting for 50 years and killing parts of herself over and over.

And I think this is the sort of mindset she had while telling Kim Dokja about 'creating' an avatar for the first time. She doesn't see the point in potraying herself as vulnerable, so she probably would obscure some details of that story, for example if she was on her knees clutching her head a la 1863rd turns Yoo Joonghyuk at the time. This would seem like a pointless detail to add when the point of the story was that her avatar ran off.

So FINALLY, here's my headcanon on what I think the original belief dissonance was for Han Sooyoung and how she got the Avatar skill.

The split happened very early on in the scenarios. And well, there is one obvious Big Event that might cause someone to have a mental breakdown/identity crisis. The first scenario. I think whoever Han Sooyoung killed, she couldn't deal with the fact she had become a murderer and 'exorcised' those memories - and so 1863 was born, with blood on her hands, in an already destroyed world.

#i have many more thoughts on 1863 hsy but Im stopping here for now. maybe ill make another post. this is 1k words already #han sooyoung #orv #orv spoilers #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #orv meta #i guess #my posts #1863 arc #kaizenix arc #avatar skill

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dimonds456 · 3 months ago

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Billford and Abuse: An Analysis

Honestly, as someone who ships both Billford and Fiddauthor, the thing I like about the toxic yaoi ship is the fact that it IS toxic. Like, the jokes are great, but its depiction of abuse is so, like... genuine. Without getting personal, I've been in a really fucking bad toxic (platonic) relationship before, and Billford deadass helped me come to terms with it.

Cuz here's the thing: most fictional abusive relationships just start with the abuse itself. It shows the victim and the perpetrator at the height (or almost at the height) of the abuse, and we see as either one of them is destroyed by it or the victim becomes free. But Billford actually shows the WHOLE timeline.

Something that bothers me about a lot of fictional abuse reps is the fact that you cannot sympathize with the victim aside from "aw that's horrible :(". Cuz it just starts AT the abuse. We don't see how they got there or what's causing the victim to stay. We just know they need to escape.

But with Billford, we see EVERYTHING. How it started out as something Ford genuinely loved, seeing Bill as a friend and someone he could trust, how it made him feel better because he was actually making progress on his research and he wasn't lonely anymore.

To Ford during those early days, Bill was the highlight of his time in Gravity Falls. We can follow his train of thought exactly to where he let Bill possess him with basically no strings attached (pun intended).

That's what makes it all the more devastating. Bill isolated Ford from everyone. He sabotaged his friendship with Fiddleford by planting that seed of doubt in the engineer and pulling Ford further and further into his plans. Then the thing with the portal happened and Ford had NOWHERE to go. Plus, Bill kept trying to get Ford to stop thinking about Stan, to move on and let him rot. So he kept planting seeds of doubt in his own brother as well, causing Ford to further and further slip away.

Then Ford confronts Bill. And the monster is unleashed.

Once Bill realizes he's lost control of Ford's devotion and the illusion has shattered, Bill just LEANS into it. In order to take control back, he started tormenting Ford and just being horrible to him, to try and make him fall in line. Love and fear ARE right next to each other in the brain, after all. And there's NOTHING Ford can do but just fall further and further into paranoia.

Bill demonstrates many real-world abusive/manipulative tactics on Ford, the big one being isolation, since that allows the rest of the everything to even happen, but the way he turns Ford against LITERALLY EVERYONE using paranoia is really true to real life.

Now obviously your toxic boyfriend cannot possess random strangers irl. But you know what he CAN do? Start spreading rumors behind your back. Stalk you. Harass you. Make you feel unsafe everywhere except home (which isn't safe either, but it's better than the outside world). He can spend your money or break your things. Slash your tires. In Ford's case, LITERALLY abusing his body. There's the sticky notes, the threats, the roof incident, all of it just piling one atop the other.

I cannot imagine how fucking terrified Ford must have been to finally send that postcard to Stanley. He was at a point where he assumed Stan would hate him, or at the very least wouldn't respond so why even bother, and he'd just gotten the "steal your eyes" threat. He was out of options, and was absolutely sure he was putting Stan in danger by getting him involved (another irl abuse thing that happens).

He was scared to reach out for help because 1) he didn't want others getting hurt (like Fidds had), 2) he was ashamed he'd let this happen, and 3) he, on some level, felt like he deserved this.

Justified? To a paranoid, scared, abused, irrational brain: Absolutely. In reality? Never. But HE'D built that portal. HE'D allowed Bill to possess his body basically freely. HE'D basically helped start the apocalypse. And that shame would have lead to SO much self-hatred and despair.

His reaching out to Stan was his last resort, his only way out. THAT'S what intrigues me about the ship so much.

I do not want them to make up and get back together. They're horrible for each other. But I do enjoy exploring the dynamic of it, fully seeing the cycle and how it happens, and seeing a whole new side to Ford that we only caught a glimpse of in the show and Journal 3. Plus Bill but his side is more comedic and sad to me I do not take him seriously FSDGHJ

The jokes are great and I love it here, but if I ever write a fic or draw art for these two it's going to be toxic as hell man. And not in the fun way fgsjd

#billford #book of bill #the book of bill #book of bill spoilers #bill cipher #stanford pines #ford pines #gravity falls #abuse #tw abuse #abuse tw

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fxoye2 · 2 months ago

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I am so corny bc I would die for a moment in anything where Spock lies it all out for Jim because it’s probably so unlike him to do that’s but it would be so heart wrenching to see him just kind of snap and do it. This is the worst comparison but the closest thing I have to really give as a reference is the pick me choose me love me moment from greys anatomy even though it’s aged like milk tbh. It’s a character laying their feelings out there, baring their heart—and while naturally, I have read a lot of jim doing that I would die to see Spock doing the same since it would be so unexpected. I think based on aos the closest he would get to a emotional push for him to actually do that is seeing jim die or something so… there’s that

Oh my God, YES! I am with you 1000% on this. Like, Spock laying his feelings out for Jim would be so devastatingly out of character, which is exactly why it would hit like a freakin’ asteroid to the heart. The fact that he’s so composed, so restrained all the time—that he keeps everything so tightly controlled—makes the idea of him reaching a breaking point and just snapping even more powerful. Spock baring his heart is the emotional equivalent of a supernova, and you know if it ever happened, it would be because he just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

And the “pick me, choose me, love me” moment from Grey’s Anatomy is actually a perfect comparison, even though yeah, it hasn’t aged super well. It’s the same energy: a character who is usually strong, controlled, and logical finally reaching that point where they just can’t hide how much they care anymore. They’ve been holding it all in for so long, and then it all comes rushing out, messy and raw and vulnerable. And that’s exactly how it would be with Spock. He wouldn’t know how to say it, it would probably be clumsy and awkward, but it would be genuine in a way that would just wreck you.

I can totally see Spock reaching this point in a moment of extreme emotional stress, like you said—something like Jim dying or nearly dying would be the thing to push him over the edge. Spock is all about control, but we’ve seen in AOS (and even in TOS, though much more subtly) that when Jim’s life is in danger, Spock’s ability to stay composed just falls apart. If Jim actually died—if Spock had to deal with the reality of losing him—I don’t think he could keep it all in. He would reach a point where logic couldn’t protect him anymore, and he would just break. And that’s where we’d get this scene where Spock, of all people, just lays it all out, probably in a way that’s deeply uncomfortable for him because vulnerability isn’t his thing, but he’s past the point of caring. He can’t hold it in anymore, and it all comes spilling out.

Imagine Spock, with his voice cracking, trying to hold it together but failing, saying something like, “You… you do not understand how much you mean to me. I cannot—will not—imagine a universe without you in it. I have never… cared for anyone in the way I care for you. It is illogical, but it is the truth. And I cannot lose you. Not again.” (Sorry, I’m just spiraling now, but GOD, it would be so heartbreaking.)

And the fact that it’s Spock saying all this would make it ten times more emotional because we know how deeply he values restraint and how uncomfortable emotions make him. For him to reach this point where he’s laying everything bare, it would mean that what he feels for Jim is so powerful that it’s beyond anything he can control. It would be a moment where his human side just wins out, and Spock can’t stop himself from saying what he’s been holding back for so long.

I’ve read plenty of fics where Jim is the one to bare his soul (because it’s very in character for Jim to throw himself headfirst into emotional vulnerability), but Spock doing it? That’s a whole other level of intensity, and I think it’s something we all want but rarely see because it’s so outside of Spock’s usual behavior. And that’s exactly why it would be so heart-wrenching—because it’s so rare and unexpected, and it would take something as extreme as almost losing Jim for him to finally break down that wall.

Now I’m just sitting here emotional at the idea of this scene happening, because it would be devastating and perfect, and I am so here for Spock finally letting himself feel out loud, even if it breaks him in the process.

#ask #spirk #k/s

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bitimdrake · 2 years ago

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pssssst hey quick question on the dl - who is helena bartinelli??

i cannot answer anon questions on the dl, so answer on the up-high, which she deserves:

HUNTRESS

a.k.a. Helena Bertinelli, a.k.a. Gotham's coolest and most notable antihero, crossbow-wielder, and purple bat-associated vigilante.

Helena was born to an Italian mob family, but spent her childhood blissfully unaware of the family business--until her entire family was slaughtered in front of her when she was eight. She stayed with family overseas for the rest of her childhood, learning how to fight and protect herself.

She came back to Gotham for both vengeance and justice, and became one of Gotham's many vigilantes. Though her focus is on the mob, she'll step in to stop any crime.

She's also a schoolteacher! Good for her.

She is discerning in who she chooses to kill, but she does kill. As you can imagine, this put her at odds with Batman for a long time. Helena is pretty much the premiere example of Bruce trying to claim control over every vigilante in Gotham, no matter how little right he has. The argument on killing/ethics is valid, but his default was basically "do exactly what I say and fall in line under my command, or stop completely," which is why he's an asshole control freak and why I'm constantly mad about how she was treated 👍

She was an absolute mainstay of the Batfamily before Flashpoint (2011) and it is personally hurtful to me that people don't know her. (Like, to be frank? She had far more of a presence than Damian or (living) Jason in the post-crisis era.)

You could count on seeing her in any major Batfamily crossover, from Cataclysm to Battle for the Cowl.

She was central to the biggest Batfamily crossover ever, No Man's Land, where Gotham was locked off from the rest of the country and turned into a lawless wasteland. Bruce left to sulk for the first couple of months and in absence of any other vigilantes in the field (only Oracle having remained in the city), Helena donned the mantle of the Bat for herself to protect the city. And when Batman came back, in return for all she'd done, she got...yelled at, assigned impossible tasks and criticized for not achieving them, her costume stolen and given to someone else, lied to, abandoned in the face of impossible odds, and shot multiple times protecting kids. Absolute fucking hero, honestly.

She also was on the Justice League for a while, though admittedly I have barely touched that run. To my understanding, despite nominating her for the position, Bruce was also the one to revoke her membership there.

Fortunately! things improved!!

In the early/mid 2000s, Helena joined the Birds of Prey, Oracle's team, and found legit friendships and support there with teammates like Dinah Lance/Black Canary. She finally got more respect in the community, and had a much better time.

Additional relationships include:

A big sister/annoying little brother type thing with Tim, who may disapprove of her killing but simply likes making friends too much :)

A great relationship with Vic Sage/the Question

One single issue where she met Steph that presented SUCH interesting potential that I desperately wish had been followed up on

On and off romantic/sexual tension with Dick, depending on the writer, which culminated in a single hook up that apparently most people around here would rather pretend didn't happen, though I really don't think it's that bad

A complicated relationship with Barbara, partially due to clashing personalities and conflicting morals (with Babs being nearly as much of a control freak as Bruce), and partially due to a shared history with Dick because DC loves making women be catty

Surely others from her first solo or time on the JLA that I don't know well enough to list!

She's rad and determined and takes no shit but cares a lot, and I love her. We deserve more stories tying her teaching day job into her night work. We also deserve more stories with her in general.

If you would like additional Helena beyond just cruising my tag, I recommend:

Batman/Huntress: Cry for Blood - far more Huntress than Batman, this is a great 6-issue miniseries about Helena reckoning with her past, ft the Question.

Batman: No Man's Land - if you have the time for it, a big storyline but worth it.

Birds of Prey vol 1 (1999) - Helena starts to appear around issue #57 and becomes a central character from there.

#*#ask #anon #*dc #dc #dc ref #helena bertinelli #huntress #batfam #batman #10to2

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anarchypumpkincowboy · 5 months ago

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Okok so like first off, I need y’all to know that this idea only came to me because I’d been watching ballets and the Indian movie I’d mentioned earlier Natyam (which is really really good I really do recommend it) but anyways one of those ballets was Swan Lake. Where the prince looks like this

Let us all take a moment to imagine this being Jace… okay moment over onto the au

So Jace multiclassed into bard in secret like when he was in college. His parents wanted him to become a wizard, and he tried he really did, but he failed and dropped wizard courses right after the second semester. He’s always enjoyed dancing, and he’s very skilled, but he’s always known that he could never view dance as any sort of viable life path. His parents would disown him. Not because they necessarily dislike dance or him dancing; they just believe he could do better, more important, things in his life.

He obviously goes to every recital he can, and damned if he doesn’t want to be up on stage with them. He goes back to his apartment after the performances and practices the moves as best he can. Sometimes when at night the moon is bright he’ll go to the spot he found by the lake nearby that’s slightly hidden from view, and get lost dancing to nothing but the music of nature. He’s not really religious, not like his mother, but he does find that dancing under the light of the moon helps to calm his mind and magic.

When he fails out of wizard classes he decides that maybe it’s a sign to go for something he’s passionate in. But he CANNOT let his parents find out that he’s switched from wizard to bard classes. They’re the ones paying for the university, his apartment, and they control his trust fund. If they find out he’s pretty sure they’ll disown him unless he goes back to wizard classes.

So he signs up for them in secret. He gets Corvin, a rogue and one of his best friends/fuck buddies, to sneak into the offices and make sure that there is no way his parents could find out.

And Jace fucking loves his dance classes. His teacher tells him he’s a natural, a prodigy, it’s still hard work and he’s sore and exhausted both physically and mentally at the end of every class. But it’s more than worth it. He’s never been so happy and at peace than he is when he’s dancing and performing.

As time passes it gets harder and harder to hide that he’s not learning wizardry from his parents. He just barely makes it out of having to go back home in the summer break, tells them that he’s still struggling so he decided to take up summer lessons this year. His parents are proud that he’s putting in the effort. And he is taking summer lessons, just for his dance class instead.

This pattern continues for another year. He’s slowly been working his way into more important roles, he’s even had a few solos this year. His teacher tells him that if he keeps this pace then by the fall semester he should start auditioning for some lead roles, that he’s near guaranteed the lead in a most.

Unfortunately that summer his parents decide they’ve missed him, and to surprise him with a visit. Three guesses as to what they end up discovering when they go to wait for his summer “wizard” lessons to get out for the day… They are of course furious. And when they see his name on a poster about a recital happening the next day, well, they decide to surprise him there.

Jace is the lead, and he’s incredible, and it’s so clear how much he belongs on the stage. His mother is almost moved by his performance, almost, and his father is thinking they should’ve stamped this out of him as a child.

By the time the performance ends, Jace is exhausted and riding an after performance high. His plans are to go out and have a few drinks with some of the other dancers before going home and crashing. That is of course immediately thrown off course when he leaves the building and sees his parents waiting for him. They don’t exactly give him a choice but to get into their car and ride in a painfully uncomfortable silence all the way back to his apartment. Where his parents make it very clear that he’s had his fun but it’s time start being serious. And that they aren’t accepting no for an answer.

But he is serious about dance, he shows them articles written about his latest performances, tells them about how his teacher calls him a prodigy, how he’s guaranteed the next couple lead roles. They don’t care. His father tells him if he doesn’t give up these ridiculous dreams they’re pulling away all his funding and taking him back home. Jace just barely manages to hold his tears back till they leave.

Okay, okay so he has till the end of the summer to figure out how to pay for his apartment, his schooling, and everything else. Not too hard right? Except that he can’t get a job that’ll pay enough for everything. And he already devotes almost all his time practicing. So he asks around his group if anyone has any advice.

One of his friends brings up how he could probably get a few scholarships. Another tells him that he should definitely apply for the House Sunstone Arts Foundation. It’s a pretty prestigious program, but even his teacher tells him he’s got a great chance at getting it.

About 2 weeks after he’s sent in his application he gets a response asking for a meeting with one of the members of the Sunstone family for an interview. The letter has the date, time, and address. It’s at a pretty fancy restaurant. One of those places with a dress code. And it’s only 2 days away.

He gets there. He’s nervous as hell. And as he’s led to the table he gets even more nervous because fuck he was not expecting the person he was meeting with to be so hot. Porter stands up to greet him, they introduce themselves, and Porter pulls out the chair for Jace. They both sit down, Jace apologizes for being late (he wasn’t, Porter had just shown up early). Porter says it’s fine, that he’d only just gotten there himself. They order food, Porter orders a bottle of wine for the table, and they begin talking.

Jace tells Porter about his accomplishments, his goals, his dreams, anything and everything he can think of to get him this scholarship. Porter nods and hums along before eventually asking why he’s applying for it. Jace tells him about how dancing has always been his passion, but that his parents envision a different life for him and cut off his funding. Porter tells him that he’s seen the videos Jace had sent in, that he can see the passion and talent Jace has, that he’s in the final list of applicants.

They finish dinner. And when they shake hands Jace tells himself he just imagined the caress of Porter’s thumb on his hand. He goes back home, tells his friends he’s made it to the final list. And life continues on for another 2 weeks before Jace gets 2 letters. One, from the foundation giving him another date, time, and address for a final interview in 3 days at the same restaurant. And the other from Jace’s parents stating they’ve cancelled his lease and he’s expected back home by the end of the month. He’s got three weeks of freedom left.

He goes to the interview. Once again Porter pulls out his chair. The conversation isn’t too much different from the last interview, but this time Porter’s asking him more questions. Mostly about his personal life unrelated to dance. And he keeps filling up Jace’s drink. And Jace keeps drinking. He knows he should stop, he’s already had a truly unprofessional amount, but Porter keeps filling it up. And Jace thinks it’d be rude to deny more, plus it’s good wine.

Jace knocks over his glass at some point, spilling it all over himself. He curses and grabs a napkin to try to dab it out but Porter’s leaning closer having already grabbed it and starting to dab Jace’s shirt. Jace is definitely not imagining how the dabs feel like caresses. And he’s definitely not imagining the look in Porter’s eye when Jace shivers from the touch.

They end dinner not too long afterwards, Jace can barely sit still in his seat now that he’s clocked Porter’s attraction. Jace is also far too gone to drive himself back home. So Porter offers him a ride. They go outside and Porter’s driver pulls up near immediately. Porter opens the door and gestures Jace into it. The back has plenty of space, but as soon as Jace has slid over to the other window seat Porter’s sidled up right next to him, draping his arm across Jace’s headrest.

Jace thinks he might actually explode. He knows there is no hiding how he’s practically vibrating out of his seat the whole drive. Especially when they come across a particularly sharp turn and Porter curls his arm around Jace to keep him from slamming into the window. And then just doesn’t move his arm back. Not until they pull up to Jace’s apartment building and Porter tells him to expect another letter soon. And asks for his crystal number. Jace gives it to him, obviously, and just barely refrains from inviting him upstairs.

More time passes with only the occasional texts between the two, and about 4 days before he’s due back home with his parents he gets the acceptance letter. Apparently not only will it be funding his schooling and dance specific items, it’ll also provide housing. Which is such a relief given he can’t renew the lease. Jace gets a text from Porter telling him congratulations, and that he can come by in a few days to take Jace to his new apartment.

Rumors spread eventually that Jace only got the scholarship because he seduced Cliffbreaker. But after he finishes his last performance before he graduates and gets scouted by 7 different companies those rumors start to die off.

#I am SO sorry for how long this is #i think i got possessed #it’s longer than the first chapter of comforts of a gilded cage #I would’ve gone on more if kibby hadn’t come in and broken me out of my trance and I realized it was 6am #starbreaker ballet au #i genuinely might have to turn this into a fic #there would be more scenes with the two of them but it’s 6am so I had to wrap it up quickly #ballet dancer Jace Stardiamond #it should be noted that while I love ballet #I’m not very knowledgeable about what the behind the scenes stuff entails other than like what I watched in Yeh Ballet #and that one ballet murder mystery drama #I got like 30mins of sleep before suddenly waking up and needing to write this down #starbreaker #porter cliffbreaker #jace stardiamond #anarchy obsessing over ballet

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savagebisand · 1 year ago

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Let's do a deep dive into the complexity of Mew and Ray rebounding on each other and how it leads to a huge necessary parting of the entire core four.

It reaches a head at that cursed Halloween Party in this ep. Because y'all. We've had sweet and bitter but today we really saw it blend together and I think this whole series tackles the futility and perseverance of love and connection but we really saw it during episode eight at it's peak.

There is literally no room in my heart for hating on Mew over Ray right now because like Mew has taken every opportunity to insist that Ray isn't controlling or changing him, Mew is changing, Mew is saying fuck it so what to everything he despised before because he's tired of fitting in a box. it has nothing to do with Ray other than that Ray makes it easy. Ray won't judge because he cannot as he's done everything Mew is trying. Mew himself is telling everyone he's a grown ass man who is coping with shit the best way he can right now and Ray just happens to be the only one not trying to restrict him or tell him how to cope. the others blaming Ray for Mew's spiral is just what's easiest for them to swallow the truth. they don't see that Mew is using Ray's unconditional love as an excuse to be the worst version of himself because to them Mew is the only vulnerable one. So let's unpack all that shall we?

Ray on the other hand knows full well that Mew doesn't love him or want him as anything other than a distraction but he's humbly accepted his role. you can tell when Mew only kisses Ray in front of Top, when Mew can't tell Ray he loves him back that Ray knows because he knows Mew, Mew does not and can not love Ray at least not the way Ray imagined Mew could. but it's alright. because for once when Mew is falling apart he's picked Ray to get to stand fiercely at his side and give him arms to cry in. all Ray wants is to feel important and connected to Mew some way and so when Mew asks for cigarettes and coke and drinks and parties, Ray doesn't question it because if he did he loses the little limited space Mew has let Ray reside in whilst everyone else has been pushed aside.

I mean hell Ray even tells Sand that Mew and him "have to see if things will work between them first" when Sand insists Ray has had his dream come true getting to be with Mew. he insists they aren't serious yet but instead seeing how things go, that Mew is at least letting them try and that's good enough. The way Ray talks about it, you can tell he doesn't believe Mew will let him stay around as a boyfriend for long. It's not just because it's Sand he's talking to, there's this understanding in how Ray addresses it. He's okay with it because all that ever mattered to Ray was trying, was having the concrete proof that Mew and him don't and can't work in romantic love instead of Mew's half assed denials.

Ray understands perfectly his role as Mew's supporting character, he isn't blind like some insist. In fact he's got more in common with Nick and Sand than people would like to recognise. Remember how Nick insists that Boston "doesn't have to love him, doesn't have to make nick his priority, he just cannot hate him?" Well that's very much Ray now that Mew has given him the time of day. Everything is still all about Top and Ray can tell but as long as Mew is happy to pretend his spite overrules his lingering love, Ray will play along. I think its very telling in the moment when Mew says this:

Literally right in front of Ray's face and Ray says nothing about the fact they're supposed to be a "we" not an "I" right now. They're supposed to be playing the hosting couple, a united front. Yet here Mew is proudly proclaiming he doesn't need anyone anymore because he's learned to only care about himself for once, he's happy on self destruct because at least he only has to be his own priority and worst enemy. No one else gets to set his rules and break them and let him down except for himself.

So yeah Ray knows exactly where he stands but, look, as easy as it is to blame him for playing a part for Mew and not recognising Sand's love, we have to also bear in mind that Ray stands in this very fragile precipice currently where his loyalty to Mew is the difference between total alienation and having at least somebody from the broken family of the core four still remaining. Mew easily tossed Boston and Top aside, ruthlessly, and he will do the same the second Ray takes any high ground over Mew's actions because Mew will waste no time reminding him how much of a hypocrite he'd be right now.

And yes it's wrong that Mew is using Ray as collateral damage to his first real break up induced sad manic girl break down but in grief we become people we don't recognise. We go numb. I don't think Mew realises fully how detrimental it will be to rely on Ray right now as he cracks before he heals, he's too caught up in going through motions, one all nighter to the next. One revenge plot to the next. He does his best to protect Ray by insisting to Cheum and Top these are his own choices and consequences to handle but when your loved ones see you a certain way, they very staunchly refuse to recognise when you make choices they don't like for you.

Cheum and Top are kinda hypocritical for blaming Ray and not noticing their own flaws in their bid to "protect" Mew but it does make sense. They can't reconcile this new Mew with the one they have grown to understand and care for and rely on. It is far easier to look to the nearest external factor influencing Mew and pin everything on that. It doesn't make it right but it does explain their motivations. They can't see Rays complexity the way the viewer can so it's far simpler for Cheum to say Ray is careless and too greedy so he can never just settle. For Top to insist Ray can't love Mew if he keeps negative shit around Mew whilst forgetting he can't exactly be one to talk when Mew wasn't much better off with him.

Basically they're all getting to that point in this journey where they have to sit with some hard home truths about their friends and themselves and really no one is to blame anymore for anyone other than themselves. No one is responsible anymore for anyone but themselves. It's no longer a blame game and more a time to sit and ask questions about who they are and why they let things get to this point. It's the only chance they stand at not spending the rest of uni totally lost and alone. The only way they might all find a way back to each other, stronger than they were before, different yes, a little broken yes but stronger together.

I think this episode did a particularly beautiful job at showcasing how love remains and prevails even as things shift and recalibrate. Mew is downright vengeful to Top but Top quietly takes it all and refuses to quit when Mew pushes him away the way he gave up on Mew before. He stands steady and strong and he's the one who carries Mew to bed and cleans him up and gets him comfy. Treats him like he's precious finally and refuses to leave.

Boston is told by everyone he has no right to show his face but he insists he has to be there anyway, even as he challenges Nick for daring to approach him, a part of Boston clearly wishes Nick had told Ton about his project because he wanted to share the celebration but Ton can only hear Nick bragging that he's moving on to better things whilst Ton still keeps company with red solo cups in a hidden room, stuck in the sidelines. And yet Boston can't find it in him to treat Nick spitefully, the best he can do is dismissive. He still shows up in a panic on that staircase, helplessly searching for a way to save Ray even as he knows it's all too broken to fix.

Cheum explodes on Ray like a mother or sister whose lost all hope not once but twice but it comes out of a place of concern, a desperate final plea that if they really aren't enough then Ray has to want to help himself. And as hypocritical as we may find her for saying Ray is careless to those around him, she's not wrong that Ray, the night of the party in particular, has only dedicated himself to Mew. She knows now that none of her hopes or wishes for the boys to be better and focus on doing the best for themselves will ever be enough alone to make them care more about friendship and futures than sex and love. She's realising how little she noticed about how deep the cracks ran and she's having to struggle with that but she still begs Top to save Ray from a place she knows will take him to the point of no return even as she chooses to walk away.

Hell Sand and Nick don't even want to be at that party but against all odds they turn up because they owe it to themselves to save face and at least try to move on. To be mature and talk to the people that they've hurt and who have hurt them instead of burying their heads. Boston and Ray are cold to them and yet they don't leave. Sand still turns back and tries to protect Ray because even if he pushed him to the ground earlier and told him they're over. He can't watch Ray rot in prison when what Ray really needs is rehab. When thats the worst place Ray can go.

Top even helps Ray avoid jail time. He says "sorry for my friend" and even if his motivation is more to help Cheum or to do this because Mew will totally tip off the edge if Ray goes down, he gains nothing from this. There is a genuine flash of concern and recognition in his face as he watches Ray cry and scream that actually maybe they aren't so different. Maybe both of their realities are pitiful and lonely.

It's just so interesting that even as things come to a close and we can tell these characters are going to split apart and take some distance, abandon each other and pray it means they come back one day able to show up better for each other as friends... they still choose love, against all odds. It's a bittersweet goodbye because they're all angry and hurting and confused about who they are and why they're behaving the way they do but even in that final moment as Cheum pulls the curtain closed, she's that last string to break when Ton has been forced to pull away and so has Top, and we can tell Ray will try to cling to Mew a little less as he battles with Cheums harsh truth that maybe he really is bad for Mew and maybe Mew really isn't enough for him. They all show up to protect Ray and each other one last time. Even if it's hopeless.

Because love and loyalty remains unconditional even if they don't like the versions of themselves they can see right now. Because even when you don't agree with choices your nearest and dearest make, even when you can't forgive it, they will still always be your broken fucked up little family.

#only friends #sandray #bostonnick #raymew #topmew #cheum #only friends the series

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