#he's really an It Guy but like. specifically in the fact that he has his ambitions So Handled

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WERE WE BETTER UNKNOWN?

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: your story with dazai comes to a close... but is it really the end?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. oh my god i have so much to say, i will put it all at the end. but i am so annoyed because the heart in the title looks wonky as hell—for some reason it looks fine on desktop but on mobile it’s fucked ip :’) comments & reblogs appreciated!

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. mentions of past suicide attempts (dazai). non-sexual nudity/intimacy. reader has 1 scar that dazai points out.

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai dreams of a vast frozen lake.

Is he dreaming? He’s not sure. It’s cold, he shouldn’t be cold in dreams, right? 

He lets out a shaky breath, and he can see the cool air fan around him. He shivers, hands running up and down his arms to try to warm himself up, but it’s futile—the snow that flutters from the sky is sharp against his skin and the air is bitterly cold, but the wind is oddly still. Eerily still. His shoes crunch against the snowy bank as he draws a bit closer to the edge of the lake, trying to figure out where he is.

“... are we going to…”

Dazai startles at the vaguely familiar whispery voice, eyes wide and searching as he looks around trying to pinpoint who had spoken, but there’s no one in sight. He can hardly see

Hell, he thinks dizzily, is he in hell?

Dazai’s fascination with literature began with his fascination with death. It started as a child—morbid and odd as it might’ve been, he was bored with life. He supposes that it’s part of the reason why his siblings didn’t like him, besides his ability, of course. He always had questions that people couldn’t answer—what happens after someone dies? They go to heaven, honey, his mother would reply. How do you know that? We just do. But how? What if we don’t? What if we just die? Stop asking so many creepy questions, Osamu, his sister would snap at him, curling into his mother’s side. But what-

He would keep asking until his sister got visibly upset and his mother had to take her out of the room. He never really understood why—they were legitimate questions—but his mother’s evasion of the topic and his siblings’ aversion did not deter his curiosity. In fact, when the first of his cousins died at the hands of one of his others, it spiked his curiosity. He almost found himself jealous that they would have the answers to the questions that have been plaguing him for years.

His questions of self-worth and his place here on earth didn’t come until he was a bit older, but he supposes at some point they probably merged together. His own doubts about himself and his lack of normalcy compared to other people led to his general fascination with death slowly turning into fascination about his own death. He found it quite ironic, and maybe a bit disheartening—he can’t even die correctly—that of all of the many members of his family, the one obsessed with death was the one that survived the longest, in spite of actively striving for eternal rest.

His fascination with death was put to an abrupt halt by Odasaku’s arrival in his life. Or well, that’s not exactly right. His fascination with his own death was put to a halt—Odasaku humored all of his questions, even if some of his answers were absurd and nonsensical, but when Dazai tried to spin the conversation back to himself, Odasaku would put his foot down. 

Dazai only tried to kill himself once while he was living with him—it was around when Odasaku first took him in, and Dazai didn’t think the man would care all too much if he was gone. Ango was the one who found him in the bathroom, funny enough it was his first time meeting the other man, but when he woke up in the hospital, Dazai decided he never wanted to see that haunted expression on Odasaku’s face ever again. 

It was around then when Odasaku started telling him about his book, and he helped redirect Dazai’s unhealthy fascination with death to a different outlet: literature. The Divine Comedy, the Aeneid, the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice—it was Odasaku who introduced him to them all. He enjoyed reading other peoples’ interpretation of the afterlife; he and Odasaku would have full blown debates over which interpretation was nearest to truth. 

Dazai isn’t particularly convinced there is an afterlife at all, but he always thought that if there was one, it might look most like Dante Alighieri’s vision. 

Like this. 

“... can’t just stop, he’ll never let it be…”

This voice isn’t unfamiliar. Dazai’s head snaps up, eyes wide and searching as he tries to seek you out. Your voice sounds like it’s coming from all around him—the wind carries it, he can’t tell where you are and the icy air makes it hard for him to keep his eyes open to try to track you down. The wind is strange though; it stops blowing all around him, and instead begins billowing inward toward the center of the lake.

A foreboding feeling suddenly settles over Dazai.

Lake Cocytus—if this is what Dazai thinks it is, then it’s meant to represent the Ninth Circle. Treachery. A little ironic, maybe, considering loyalty is what got Dazai killed—your loyalty to the Port Mafia. 

Is he dead? He realizes suddenly that he very well might be, not quite as pleased with the idea as he might’ve been in the months before he met you. He feels… unfulfilled almost. He never finished Odasaku’s book. He didn’t even manage to get his degree. He felt what it was like to be loved for a few months, but it wasn’t enough. He’d wanted more. He wanted a life with you. 

He still wants a life with you, he thinks miserably. Even after everything that happened, he still wants it.

He must not be dead, he thinks absently, kicking at the snow on the banks of the lake before slowly treading out toward the center of it. If he was dead and really in the Ninth Circle of Hell, then he’d be stuck in the lake with the rest of the betrayers. Although, Dazai thinks if he really was going to hell, it wouldn’t be this circle—he doesn’t think he’s ever really betrayed anyone to this degree.

Or maybe he did, his thoughts take another dejected turn. Would his ‘betrayal’ to you count? It’s not like he actively tried to deceive you, so he thinks he should be given some leeway. But maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, if he’s here because he deceived you, then you would certainly be here for betraying him—he wouldn’t mind being stuck in hell if you were there with him. You both could be buried in the ice together, eternally frozen and suffering for betraying each other. 

It’s kind of romantic, if you really think about it.

Something bubbles in his chest—maybe a laugh, or maybe a sob, he can’t tell, he thinks maybe he’s a bit hysterical. 

It must just be a dream, he thinks again for some minimal solace. Or maybe a warning, maybe he’s somewhere caught in-between and God is striking down his hammer, warning him this is where he’s going to end up if he doesn’t change his ways like the message of the Divine Comedy itself.

The thought makes him laugh.

He sobers up quickly though as he starts his trek across the lake, thinking that maybe if he got to the other side, or the center, he’d wake up. He thinks you would find this funny—one of your first conversations with him had been about The Divine Comedy, and he spent many nights at dinner roping you into conversation about it, and convincing you to read some of the other books and poems that Odasaku had introduced him to. You-

“... one life or hundreds, that’s what he said…”

Dazai nearly slips on the ice when he hears your voice again, looking around as if you would just magically appear around him. You don’t, but it does leave Dazai a little disheartened hearing you repeat the words that Mori had said to convince you to kill him. He sighs as he keeps his gaze trained ahead, careful to not look down at the ice lest he find himself looking at something he would rather not.

The outskirts of the water were the traitors to kin—Dazai remembers that well. The first time he read the poem, he realized that this is where the majority of his cousins and older brothers would be. They spent almost two years killing each other for their grandfather’s inheritance; Dazai went from having seven siblings and almost two dozen cousins to three siblings and a handful of cousins by the time of the coup.

Traitors to country in the next section—Dazai thinks a bit gleefully that Mori would end up there. The Port Mafia isn’t exactly a city or country, but it’s still an entity, and Mori certainly betrayed it when he killed Dazai’s grandfather in his own bed, no matter what the reason for it might be.

Traitors to guests in the next section—this gives Dazai a bit of pause, he doesn’t know if he knows anyone that would fit in that section. Ui, maybe? Inviting him to work with his journalism house only to give him up to the Guild. Maybe Mori again, Dazai thinks, highly amused, because Dazai was a guest to you, and therefore, the Port Mafia, when everything happened. 

And the last section—traitors to benefactors. He can’t avoid looking at them; they’re the only ones above the surface of the lake, grotesque sculptures of ice that decorate the surface of the center of the lake. His steps slow as he walks through them all, a heavy feeling settling over him as his gaze focuses on the oddly familiar sculpture in the very center of the lake.

Is that-

“There’s only one way this ends.”

Dazai’s breath catches sharply. He slips on the ice as he rushes forward, eyes widening and hands flying forward to catch himself, but his stomach lurches painfully and before his hands can hit the ground-

Dazai sits up with a ragged gasp, eyes wild and nails digging into the fabric of the soft couch he’s laying on. His head is aching and he feels sluggish; he’s still reeling from what he’d just woken up from, but his heart rate is starting to calm down.

Just a dream, he confirms, but now he’s more preoccupied with trying to figure out where the hell he is and why he isn’t dead, because the last thing he remembers is you lifting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. The room he’s in is small—there’s no windows, there’s a tiny kitchen on the left side of the room, and on the other side-

“Everyone out.”

Dazai’s gaze settles on you. You’re standing near the far wall—you haven’t changed from what you were wearing at the conference room with the other Port Mafia executives, and Dazai can see Ace’s blood still crusted around your finger nails and splattered on your shirt. Your gaze is focused on him, an unreadable expression on your face, and Dazai is so tunnel visioned on you that he hardly notices that there are a handful of other people in the room: your three subordinates, Nakahara Chuuya, Albatross and one other who had been at the fight against the Guild.

They don’t argue with you, most of them file out of the room without a word, only Albatross and Chuuya linger. The ginger gives you a long look before saying, “We’ll buy some more time. Just… figure out if this is really what you want to do, okay?”

You finally look away from him at Chuuya’s words, cringing and averting your gaze to the ground. You say quietly, “It doesn’t matter what I want. It has to be done.”

Chuuya sighs but nods, motioning for Albatross to leave with him—and then the two of you are left alone. You don’t approach him. Ironically, you look like the one akin to a cornered animal as if you hadn’t been the one to shoot him. If anyone should feel like a cornered animal right now, it should be him.

Instinctively, he lifts his hand to his forehead, frowning at the bandages wrapped around the top of his head. He looks back up at you curiously, but you grimaced and looked away as soon as he touched his forehead, so he can’t catch your eye.

He has a million questions he wants to ask. What happened? Why didn’t the bullet kill me? Why didn’t you kill me? Did you believe me? Do you believe me? Are we okay?

Dazai doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer to the last question, so he settles with: “Where are we?” 

Though you’d stiffened as soon as his lips parted to speak, you relax when you hear the question he asked.

“A safe house in Sakae,” you say quietly. Dazai starts to sit up but his vision swims so he has to stop and rest back down against the arm of the couch, blinking furiously. “You should take it easy… You’re probably going to feel a bit off for a couple of hours.”

Dazai is about to ask you what exactly happened, but the words die on his lips when you finally draw closer to him. You sit down on the couch next to where he’s laying, your body brushes his and Dazai feels warm. The remnants of the frigid cold of his dream vanishes as soon as the warmth of your body grazes his—he knows that there are many things that need to be addressed, but he would be content to avoid those topics and bask in your comfort for as long as he can. 

His eyes slide shut as you reach up to cup his cheek. He doesn’t even bother reopening them when he feels you lift your other hand to remove the bandages from around the top of his head—he thinks maybe he could almost doze back off. It’s only when you let out a soft sigh and fasten them back on does he finally bother to open his eyes again. 

“I don’t have enough bandages on me already?” he asks, his voice is light and the smile on his lips is teasing as he tries to lighten the mood a little, but it doesn’t work.

You don’t respond to his comment. You look down, and the small smile on your lips doesn’t meet your eyes, so his falls off his face as he stares up at you carefully and finally asks the much dreaded question that would lead to even more dreaded questions:

“Will you tell me what happened?”

--

“We need to go,” Chuuya says, hand wrapped around your wrist tightly. You don’t budge from where you’re standing, staring at where Dazai had fallen back over the edge. It was a short drop with mud softening the fall, he would be okay—if everything went according to plan, that is. Otherwise, the bullet you just shot at him killed him anyway, so the fall is inconsequential. “Come on. We can’t stay here. We have to go.”

“How do-”

“Not here,” Chuuya hisses. “Come on.”

“Chuuya-” you breathe out, voice wavering over his name. You can’t bring yourself to move even as Chuuya tries to drag you away. “Chuuya, I need to kn-”

Need to know if this worked. Need to know if he was able to stop the bullet. Need to know if you actually just killed the boy you’re in love with.

“Not here,” Chuuya replies, voice harsh, cutting you off before you can say anything more incriminating. 

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to follow him—he yanks you along with him, not even bothering to steady you when you stumble. You know you should snap yourself out of this, you know Mori has people trailing you to ensure you follow through with Dazai’s execution, but you’re haunted by the expression on his face when you pulled the trigger.

He accepted it.

You had the gun to his head. You asked him to forgive you. He said he did, and he accepted that he was about to die at your hands. A part of you is eager to convince yourself that maybe he saw through your plan, that he realized you weren’t going to kill him, but that look in his eyes…

He didn’t know, and he accepted it anyway.

Your stomach churns. The ragged breath you take in cuts off abruptly as you gag over it—you saw the blood, you don’t know if Chuuya was able to stop it. You don’t know if Dazai’s nullification ability prevented Chuuya from using his own ability to slow the bullet before it killed him. You don’t know if he fell backward because he was shot or because the high dosage sedative that you swiped from Mori’s office set in as quickly as it was supposed to. You don’t even know if Chuuya had been able to inject it in him with his ability. You don’t know anything.

“Don’t you dare throw up on me,” Chuuya mutters as he opens the car door and ushers you inside. 

Instead of sitting in the front with Albatross, he sits in the back with you, sharing a sharp look with Albatross before the other man finally pulls away from the ports. He still doesn’t say anything else—he knows better. This is one of the Port Mafia’s cars, tapped and actively being transmitted to one of Kouyou’s subordinates who will report to her and Mori anything that seems off, and you need to buy as much time as you possibly can before Mori realizes Dazai isn’t dead.

Because Dazai isn’t dead. He can’t be dead.

It worked. It all worked.

It had to have. 

Just as you expect, your phone rings as soon as the car starts moving. Mori has eyes on you—he was waiting for you to finish with the execution before calling. You’re certain that he’s going to send someone to check the body now; he doesn’t trust you to finish the job, not when something as fickle and unpredictable as love is involved. 

Klaus will have to be quick—you don’t even know if he was able to find a lookalike to kill so he could swap out the body. You only were able to give him a twenty, maybe thirty, minute heads up. Dazai is plain looking, yes, and the mud he dropped in should do some work at concealing his identity, but if Mori’s shadow sends him a picture to confirm the kill, the slim amount of time you hope to have bought with your fake out will be halved.

You stare down at the phone and let it ring once, twice, and finally on the third ring, you lift the phone to your ear and accept the call, waiting for Mori to speak.

“Has it been done?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice steady even if your fingers are trembling around the phone. “Do you need me back at headquarters?”

“No, I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you. You should get some rest. I have a meeting with Tolstoy in a bit anyway. I’ll meet with you tomorrow after I have tea with Elise-chan so you can debrief me on the meetings with the Guild,” Mori says easily, his tone is light and airy, and it makes you angry, because how dare he sound so flippant after what he just expected you to do. “... I’m sorry things had to end this way, dear. I’m proud of you. You did well.”

“I know,” you say tightly in response before hanging up and putting the phone back down in your lap. 

Chuuya watches you carefully, but he doesn’t say anything, and you stare ahead at the back of the driver’s seat. It’s a twenty-five minute drive from the ports in Naka to Sakae—for better or for worse, it’s going to be a quiet one. For better because you think you might start crying if you have to speak, and for worse because now all you’re plagued with is your own thoughts and the image of Dazai’s face before you shot him.

You didn’t shoot him. Not really.

But you did, you don’t know if Chuuya was able to stop it. You don’t even know if Chuuya knows if he was able to stop it. There was a splatter of blood. You saw that, and there shouldn’t have been blood if this worked, so the worst case scenario looms over you heavily. But you won’t know until you get to the safe house—until you hear from Klaus. Your breath hitches over a sob you’re forced to swallow; your chest burns and tightens uncomfortable.

You had to do it, this was the only option. Anything else and there was no shot he wouldn’t have been killed. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he would be killed. You wouldn’t be able to protect him from Mori otherwise—he would’ve put a hit out on him, and Dazai would have all of the most dangerous assassins in the underworld out for him trying to get the bounty. You can’t protect him from that. You needed to buy time. You needed to buy time so you could-

You don’t finish the thought. 

You don’t think you’ve come to terms with what has to be done if you want to protect Dazai. A part of you doesn’t even know if you’ll be able to follow through with it, but you’ve already set yourself down the path of no return and you’ve dragged Chuuya down it along with you. Either you follow through, or the three of you are going to be on the run for the rest of your lives.

Shit.

Your gaze tracks back down to your phone. Still nothing from Klaus—nothing from Akutagawa either. The silence is too loud, each second that passes has you aching with a pain that feels like knives dragging against your bones. You just need to know, you need to know that he’s okay, that you didn’t-

You rest your forehead against the window when nausea builds back up in your stomach. It’s cool, and a welcome reprieve from the heaviness weighing down on you, but the moment your eyes slide shut, you’re faced with Dazai again and no amount of deep breathing and grounding techniques can stop the way your heart rate sky-rockets, breath becoming quick and shallow.

You see him. You see him, and he’s looking up at you, dark eyes wide and adoring as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him, and his lips part to say something but before he can, you see something thick and red trickling down his face over his lips, and suddenly something is weighing cold and heavy in your hand but you can’t bring yourself to look down at it, but you can’t drag your eyes from his face. Can’t hide yourself from the way his warm eyes are suddenly wide and glassy, void of all of the emotions that you’d just-

Your arm hurts—sharp and painful and so sudden that you’re dragged from the images haunting you. Your gaze cuts over to Chuuya, who’s giving you a concerned look. You realize he must’ve shifted over a bit, brushed his arm against yours to use his ability to jolt you out of your spiraling thoughts. When he realizes that you’re back in the present, he gives you a pointed look and then directs his gaze outside.

You’re almost there. How much time had passed?

Why hasn’t Klaus or Akutagawa reached out to you?

What is going on?

Albatross doesn’t stop in front of the safe house—there are too many cameras in the street and all of the Port Mafia’s cars are tracked. Instead, he takes a left on the next street because it’s one of the few without a red light camera and a blind spot on the corner. His gaze flickers up to the rearview mirror and he pointedly raises the volume of his shitty music a few decibels louder to cover the noise of the car doors opening and closing as you and Chuuya slip out when he stops at the red light.

You leave your phone in the car and you’re careful to avoid the camera near the bakery on the corner as you follow Chuuya around to the alley that leads to the back entrance of the safe house. It’s not a Port Mafia safe house—it was Itou’s. This was where he stayed in the few months during the Dragon’s Head Conflict where he was on his own, after he left Strain but before you recruited him to the Port Mafia. It was well hidden and well protected, you hadn’t been able to track him down here until he brought you here—he made sure that it was a blind spot in the Port Mafia’s ever-watchful eye over Yokohama, and you made sure to keep it that way once he was gone. 

It’s only once the steel door is shut behind you that you can finally speak, gaze focusing on Chuuya desperately as you wait for him to tell you if he was able to do it or if Dazai’s ability…

“Did you hear from Klaus or Akutagawa?” he asks quietly, and that’s enough of an answer.

He doesn’t know. 

You feel sick—your stomach lurches and you don’t know if you start to stumble toward the bathroom or the couch or straight to the floor, but it doesn’t matter because Chuuya is darting forward to grab you and guide you over to the couch.

“Chuuya, if I-” you start to say, your words are raspy and you can’t even bring yourself to finish them. “If I-”

“Don’t,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “Don’t bother going there yet. Wait for Klaus and Akutagawa.”

“But-”

“Stop,” he insists. “All you’re going to do is torture yourself.”

Isn’t that what you deserve? You want to say to him, nails digging into the palm of your hand so deep that it draws blood. Chuuya catches what you’re doing and immediately moves to unfurl your hands. Everything you’ve done. You killed Dazai’s family. His siblings. His cousins. You ruined his life, and then after everything, it wasn’t enough. You ruined his life and then you took-

“Hey, stop,” Chuuya interrupts your thoughts, clearly realizing what path they’re going down. You don’t realize your breath is ragged again until he grabs your chin and twists your head to force you to look at him. “I know what you’re thinking, but we can’t do this right now, we need to plan. We don’t have time, and when Klaus and Akutagawa get here with him, we need to know what we’re doing. You need to snap out of it.”

You don’t respond to him—your lashes flutter and you see Dazai again, you see blood, you see empty eyes, you see the gun in your hand, and you feel something warm and wet trickling over your cheeks. Chuuya spits out curses to himself and wipes away the tears streaming down your face. He’s gentle now, the rough grip on your chin disappears and is replaced with his hand cradling the back of your head as he pulls you closer to him. He presses your ear to his chest, hoping that the steady thrum of his heart is enough to ground you.

“Where the fuck are they?” he spits out more to himself than to you. His breath hitches and you can hear the stammering of his heart, and you know that he’s nervous, but he’s trying to hide it for your sake. “I need you here. What we just did-fuck-”

You try to snap out of it—you do, but every time you blink you see him. You see what you did. You knew this would happen from the very beginning, you knew it, and everyone warned you, but you’re selfish. You’ve always been so selfish.

You don’t know how much time passes. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. It all blurs, it all feels like eternity, but eventually, the door to the safe house slams open, and only a handful of people know about it.

Your gaze snaps up, and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until Klaus steps into the room with a familiar figure slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Both of them are covered in various substances that you think you would rather not know what they are, but you can see the steady rise and fall of Dazai’s back. You rise to your feet abruptly and Chuuya lets out a relieved breath, shoulders slumping.

Klaus immediately points an accusing finger at you. “I had to hunt down a civilian, kill him, crawl through shit and trash with a dead body to swap it out for your boy, I had to carry him across half of the city, and I couldn’t even channel Mephisto because he nullifies him. You better not complain about any messes I make for the next six months,” Klaus demands, and then points wildly back toward a very clean Akutagawa, who casts an unimpressed look his way. “And he didn’t even help me. He stood there and watched.”

“I was ensuring that no one saw what we were doing,” Akutagawa replies primly. “Even more important than your job, considering if someone saw it would all be for naught. You should be thanking me.”

Klaus’s face goes red with anger as he whips around to face him and roars, “More important? Thank you?!”

You laugh. It’s so startling that all of the anger washes away from Klaus’s face and the goading expression on Akutagawa’s disappears. Or you think you laugh—you think you might be crying again too. Both boys look aghast by the sight of it, looking at each other as if waiting for the other to do something to make you stop.

Eventually, Klaus steps forward and unsurely tries to pass Dazai’s unconscious body over to you as if to try to make you feel better by shoving him in your arms. Chuuya slaps him hard over the back of the head causing him to yelp.

“Put him on the couch, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you passing him over to her like he’s a fucking stuffed animal?” Chuuya snaps, giving him a plainly judgemental look before resting his hand on your shoulder. 

Klaus looks disgruntled, but he does as Chuuya asks, laying Dazai down on the couch where you and Chuuya had just been sitting. You drop to your knees next to him, and the room is oddly silent as you look down at him. You don’t feel their gazes on you, so you assume they’re giving you privacy as best they can.

He looks… peaceful. You could almost imagine that you were coming home to him napping on your couch after he spent the whole night playing some stupid video game in your living room. You try to imagine that’s what this is, but the bloody indent in his forehead prevents you.

It almost broke through his skull.

He almost died.

You almost killed him.

You feel a bit sick as your fingers trace up to the wound on his forehead. It’s still bleeding, but his forehead is clean compared to the grime that covers the rest of his body. Klaus and Akutagawa must’ve had the brain to stop and clean the wound before it could get infected—that’s probably what took them so long.

You feel someone come to your side, glancing up to see Akutagawa hovering next to you with bandages in hand. He passes them over to you silently before quickly walking away. You let out a soft breath as you unwind the bandages, gently lifting his head so you can wrap them around his forehead. Immediately, they’re staining red—you grimace and look away.

The silence hanging over the room only lasts so long.

“What’s next?” Klaus asks quietly. “This won’t work for long. What’s the plan?”

Your gaze lowers as you rest your hand against Dazai’s cheek, memorizing his face as best as you can. The heaviness in your chest returns, and along with it, the damning reminder of your reality.

“I have to kill Mori.”

--

Dazai suddenly understands his dream.

“It’s the only option,” you say quietly when Dazai’s expression immediately twists at your words. Your eyes look so heavy and your expression is so crestfallen that it makes Dazai ache. His fingers twitch to reach out for you but you shift away, shaking your head. “It’s the only option, Osamu. It has to be done.”

“But-”

“He tried to have me kill you,” you snap, and he almost rolls his eyes because he doesn’t need reminding of that. He’s abundantly aware of the fact that he almost died at your hands because of Mori. He refrains if only barely. “Why do you care about what happens to him?”

“He’s your father,” Dazai says, watching as you go stiff. He knows he might’ve just made a mistake saying that, but he doesn’t even know if you fully understand the gravity of all of this or if you’re just running off heightened emotions right now. “I don’t care about him, he can go fuck off and die for all I care. I care about you-“

“He’s not my father,” you spit out, voice tight, “and maybe you shouldn’t care about me.”

Oh, here it comes, Dazai thinks dreadfully. That was the opening you needed to bring up the subject Dazai desperately wanted to avoid. He has made a fatal mistake. He should’ve just nodded along and agreed to your plan.

“You’re right he’s not your father,” Dazai immediately agrees to appease you and try to avoid the imminent conversation. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Hey, do you have food here? I’m so hungry all of a sudden, wow, do you hear my stomach-” 

You sigh, looking away. Your eyes are suddenly very tired and Dazai’s words falter on his tongue as his gaze settles on you. His fingers twitch to reach out for your hand but you draw them back into your lap. Dazai’s gaze drops at the blatant rejection, but as soon as you notice, you reach back out to intertwine your fingers with his. He feels placated, but only a little, because he still has a tight feeling in his chest that he can’t push away. A looming fear that something is going to go terribly wrong.

“Can we please talk about this?” you finally ask quietly, and even though Dazai does want to say no, he simply cannot bring himself to. 

So, instead, he nods, and braces himself for what he knows is bound to be a terrible conversation. He waits for you to say something—you look like you want to, but he thinks that maybe you’re struggling just as much as him at opening the conversation. 

This isn’t going to go well, he realizes again, swallowing thickly. 

“Come on,” you finally say, rising to your feet. You hold out your hand to him and Dazai stares at it for a moment, confused. “Let’s get you cleaned up, you smell disgusting.”

“I wonder why,” Dazai mutters, and he means for it to come out as a joke, but when the small smile on your lips falters, he realizes it probably came out much too bitter so he quickly grabs your hand instead, letting you help him to his feet. He tries to get you to smile again by giving you a soft one of his own, but now the expression on your face is heavy and conflicted. “Are you gonna take a bath with me?”

“You should probably rinse off before we get into the bath,” you say dryly, thumb running along the back of his hand before you let go of it. “Otherwise we’ll just be sitting in shit water.”

Dazai almost gags. “Don’t remind me what I’m covered in right now,” he pleads. “Where is the shower?”

The light returns to your eyes, a smile flickers to your lips, and Dazai considers it a win even if he is covered in shit and god knows what else. He glances back down to where he’d been laying and winces when he sees the stains. His eyes flicker back up to you and he cringes when he sees the displeased expression on your face.

“I’ll make Atsushi and Akutagawa clean it,” you say more to yourself than to him, shaking your head and motioning for him to follow. “Bonding exercise.”

Dazai raises his eyebrows, unsure if the couch is even salvageable, and almost lets a comment slip about it considering you were so quick to throw out his couch to replace it, but he refrains when a sad expression crosses your face when you think he’s not looking. He frowns, looking around a bit more scrutinizing now.

This place looks nothing like your apartment.

Your apartment is… plain. Minimalistic. The most you have decorating it is a handful of paintings on the wall and a couple of antiques displayed on dressers. Other than that, you have your furniture, your television, and that’s just about it. Dazai had joked once about it feeling like a hotel room, and promptly stole your credit card to buy things to decorate with—gaudy Christmas lights even though it’s not Christmas, a couple of fake pumpkins to line against your wall and a plastic skeleton to pin up near the window. He even bought an inflatable snowman to put in the middle of the room, but it hasn’t come yet. You rolled your eyes every time you came back from work to see some new, seasonally inappropriate decoration in your apartment, but he could tell the more things he added to your apartment, the happier you seemed to be. 

This place was actually decorated. Pictures and trinkets set up on the dressers, all of the furniture matched and the walls were a warm burgundy instead of the off-putting, psych ward white of your apartment. You said this was a safe house, but it seems more like a home than your actual one. 

“What is this place?” he asks again, because it’s something more than a safe-house, he just doesn’t know what.

“I told you,” you frown. “A safe house.”

Dazai’s lips curl down in response but he doesn’t press, gaze flickering over to one of the side tables against the wall, trying to figure out who exactly is in the pictures on it, but as he strains his eyes to focus on it, pain ricochets through his head and he has to abandon the mission. Disappointed, he follows you into the back bedroom and realizes he’ll just have to figure it out later.

He almost stops in his tracks in the doorway when he sees that the bedroom is just as homely as the rest of the safe house. It’s weird—the same burgundy walls, dark mahogany furniture, there’s what looks to be a handmade quilt draped over the foot of the bed. It’s just so unlike you that it almost has Dazai reeling.

You give him an odd look when you see the twisted expression on his face, but motion toward another door. “The bathroom is in there—go rinse off and run the bath, I’ll be in there in a minute, I’m going to grab a change of clothes for you.”

“Mkay,” Dazai agrees, a jump in his step as he rushes over to the bathroom. 

He only pauses for a second to take in his surroundings when he gets in there—he’s not as surprised now by the style. Less modern, more rustic, just like the rest of the house; it’s more like something he’d expect to see in one of those American holiday movies. He leans over the tub to run the hot water before pulling off his clothes. He squints as he starts to unwind his bandages, looking into the shower and realizing that the only soap in there is an unopened bar soap, and a men’s shampoo and conditioner set. 

A bit suspicious now, he glances at the door leading to the bedroom before kneeling down in front of the cabinets beneath the sink. With one hand, he unwinds the bandages around his legs, and with the other, he reaches out to open the cabinet so he can snoop. Just as he expected: men’s deodorant, a spare baking soda and peroxide toothpaste that he knows you hate, and a handful of different colognes. There’s one bag off to the side and Dazai reaches for it, peeking in and finding your typical bath soaps and hair care.

Whose place is this? He wonders, pausing for half a second before taking out your soaps and bringing them into the shower with him. It’s not Chuuya’s—Dazai knows that because he hasn’t seen a single tacky hat yet, but then whose?

He’s quick to clean himself off, eager to be with you and still a bit anxious that you might disappear when he’s not looking. The water runs brown as it rinses over him, but it feels nice—Dazai realizes that this is his first shower since he got kidnapped by the Guild, and a part of him wants to bask in it. He wants to wash off all of the unfamiliar touches and the dirt and the blood, but more than that, he wants to surround himself with you instead. Which means he has to hurry out of here and drag you into the tub with him. 

He thinks maybe he should be biding his time. He has a lot to think about before he actually talks to you—he’s hardly even had a chance to process everything that happened—but still, he finds himself rushing to scrub himself. It couldn’t have been more than ten, fifteen minutes before he’s stumbling out of the shower and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. He almost expects you to be waiting in the bathroom for him, but you’re not, so he frowns and creaks the door back open to look for you.

Your name is on his lips as he steps back into the bedroom, but he falters when he sees you standing in the same place he left you: right outside a closet, except now the door is open and there’s a sweatshirt in your hands. The expression on your face is destroyed, and Dazai isn’t exactly sure what to say, luckily, he doesn’t need to because you hear the door open and turn toward him.

Whatever you’re about to say dies on your lips as your eyes trail over his body.

Another fatal mistake.

Dazai instantly realizes that he has never taken off his bandages in front of you before—that night at the beach house, he thought you were going to ask him to take them off, but you didn’t. He was glad for it, because he wasn’t sure if he was ready, and after that… Well, everything went downhill after that.

Dazai suddenly wants to flee. He becomes acutely aware of all of the scars on his body plainly in view. The warm, dim lighting becomes spotlights shining down on him, highlighting all of the flaws that he’s feared your reaction to. He waits for your face to twist—or, he knows you, you probably wouldn’t have such a visible reaction, so he focuses on your eyes instead.

But they only curve up along with your lips, a fondness in them that he doesn’t expect. You place the clothes down on the bed and approach him, his breath catches when your hands rest on his hips right above the towel. The skin-on-skin makes his chest ache—he’s missed you so much, he hadn’t even realized how hard it had been to breathe without you until he was back with you again.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he breathes out loud, lashes fluttering when your thumbs circle over his hip bones, right over a jagged scar that cuts across his lower abdomen—the product of an unfortunate encounter in Suribachi. 

“I missed you too,” you say softly. Your eyes trace over his face like you’re trying to memorize each little detail—usually he feels uncomfortable when under a scrutinizing gaze, he never wants someone to look too closely at him in fear of what they might find, but he feels warm beneath yours. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not sure exactly what you’re apologizing for; it could be anything from almost killing him to letting him into your life at all. He’s not yet ready for this conversation to start, he hasn’t even gathered his thoughts yet, so instead he glances pointedly back toward the bathroom. You let out a soft breath—he can’t tell if it’s irritation or you’re just tired, it might be both, but you do motion for him to go in and he can hear you following him.

The water is still steaming as he lets the towel drop to the ground and sinks into it. His muscles instantly relax, eyes sliding shut as he rests against the back of the tub, letting out a soft sigh. For a moment, he can almost forget everything that’s happened, his head falls to the side to focus on you as you undress, folding your clothes and placing them on the side table. He blinks when you pull off your dress shirt, gaze zeroing in on a scar marring your upper back. It’s small, circular—a bullet wound, maybe? It doesn’t go through to your chest though, he would’ve noticed that. 

“How did you get that?” he asks curiously, belatedly realizing he probably has no right to ask about scars considering his body is riddled with them and he’d probably evade most attempts at your prying if you asked. 

“Hm?” you ask quietly, looking over your shoulder at him as you finish undressing.

The words falter on Dazai’s lips as his gaze roves over your body. You’re beautiful, he thinks again, a bit more dreamily this time. You’re beautiful, and he’s missed you so much, and he just wants all of this to be over so he can go back to lounging in your apartment and spending your money all day. It’s only when you raise your eyebrows that he clears his throat and nods his chin to your back.

“The scar on your back,” he explains. “How did you get it?”

“Oh,” you realize, making your way over to the tub and tapping his shoulder, motioning for him to shift forward. You slip into the water behind him, circling your arms around his waist and Dazai’s chest feels warm and full as he rests back against you, eyes sliding shut. “An assassination attempt when I was eighteen. I was… reckless, saw it coming and… Well, luckily, the Flags had been in the area. Iceman figured out what was happening and they got there quick enough to stabilize me and get me to Mori.”

Dazai’s throat swells at the implication of what you’d said, trying to distract himself with the feeling of your fingers tracing across his abdomen. He notes softly, “You’re never reckless.”

Your fingers pause in the absent patterns you’re tracing on him, and Dazai wonders if it’s a sore topic, about to retract his words. Before he can, you let out a soft breath and drop your forehead down on his shoulder, arms tightening around him.

“This was Itou’s house. All of the stuff in here, it’s his family’s—stuff he was able to salvage after they were killed. He tried to keep the house like how his mother used to keep it as a way to memorialize her,” you say quietly. Dazai’s eyes widen as he recognizes the name of your old partner. “We were enemies when we first met, y’know? It was during the big conflict six years ago. He was part of one of the foreign organizations. I ended up recruiting him, but he spent a few months on his own here. He was careful to keep it a blind spot to the Port Mafia even after he joined up, I always thought he was paranoid about it, but he was quite insistent that there was no need for people to know about it.”

“Makes sense,” Dazai says dryly. “I wouldn’t want Mori knowing where I’m living either.”

It’s an off-handed quip, but you still stiffen and again, Dazai fumbles to say something else because he clearly upset you. He starts to add, “I-”

“I killed him,” you finally say, voice weak and airy. Your arms loosen around him, but his hands drop to cover yours, holding them in place. “I killed him, Osamu.”

“I thought you said he died on a mission,” Dazai murmurs, hand tightening around yours when he feels the way your fingers are trembling. 

“I… Itou was born into this life. Was born into a Yakuza-family based in Tokyo, trained since he was old enough to walk how to use his ability… how to kill. The Yakuza syndicate his family was the head of was wiped out by the Sun and Steel when he was eight… nine, maybe. His mother was able to get him and bring him back to Australia—that’s where she was from. It’s how he ended up with Strain,” you explain, and the water suddenly feels a bit cold—what happened to Itou’s family sounds a lot like what happened to Dazai’s. From the way you pause, you wonder if you realize the same thing. You quickly change the subject, “He tried getting me out of the Mafia.”

“What?” Dazai asks, surprised. He shifts to physically look at you, catching the wistful expression on your face. “You wanted to leave the Mafia.”

The wistful expression shifts into something much more conflicted. 

“I didn’t-” you start to say before cutting yourself off. “I don’t know. I think maybe a part of me might’ve wanted to. I was… curious. He was sneaky—he was always such a sneaky bastard. He tried to ease me into it, show me what a different life was like. Called them training exercises, wanted me to blend in with kids my age.”

He remembers you telling him this at the beach house, but he listens anyway because now you do sound wistful. His eyes slide shut as you hold him tightly, pressing your lips to his shoulder blade before resting your chin on top of it. 

“His gift to me for my eighteenth birthday was an acceptance letter to university. He pulled some strings. It was for YNU, actually, funny enough,” you say softly. Dazai’s eyes widen as he turns to look at you again; there’s a small, sad smile on your lips and when he turns, you take the chance to steal a kiss from him. “Imagine, we could’ve been first years together.”

Dazai doesn’t dare to respond. His hand tightens around yours—if it’s painful, you don’t let it show. Odasaku dragged him to orientation, and he imagines meeting you there. You’re good at socializing—charming—Dazai can be too when he wants, but he definitely did not want to during orientation. He mostly sulked away and waited for it to be over so he could go back home. He imagines that you’d be in the same group with him, and although he’d probably ignore you the first few times you tried to talk to him, he’d eventually give in. Dazai is weak to pretty women, especially when that pretty woman is you.

Or maybe, you’d meet during a shared class. You would probably be a poli-sci major, but he’s taken classes in the field for requirements. He hated them, thought they were boring, but he probably would’ve enjoyed it much more if he had you to admire all two hours of the class. And maybe-

“I was curious,” you repeat, voice tighter. There’s more of an edge to it now, and Dazai realizes that this story is about to take a turn. “I… I wanted to try it. I told Mori.”

Dazai’s eyes widen and he sits up straight. The water sloshes around him as he physically turns around to face you. He asks, but can’t finish, “Did he…”

“He said it was a great idea,” you say tightly. “He encouraged it. I accepted the spot, and a week before orientation, Itou died on a mission that we got bad intel for. My whole team, they died to make sure I got out alive. Mori denied having any involvement, said he wouldn’t risk an ability user as powerful as Itou, but I know. I know he had a hand in it. I’ve always known it. The government had been after Itou for years—they said he was a national security threat. A couple of weeks later, we suddenly have the skilled business permit that Mori’s been trying to get for months. It was a trade-off. I know it. Two birds, one stone. The skilled business permit and my full focus back on the Mafia for Itou’s life.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something—anything—but he can’t. Your eyes are misty, and the foreboding feeling that’s been haunting him since he woke up intensifies. You shake your head, blinking back tears. 

“I never should’ve brought you into this world, Osamu.”

Dazai needs to think now. He needs to figure out how exactly he’s going to go about this, whether he should be soft and demure, appealing to your heart, or if he should be more forceful, triggering your guilt. 

He goes with the latter.

“Well it’s too late for that,” Dazai says, keeping his voice steady until he knows how you’re going to react to it. When you instantly shake your head again, his voice hardens. “It’s too late, I’m already in it. You can’t just get rid of me. Take accountability.”

“You don’t think I have?” you question dryly, looking away from him. But he needs you to look at him for this to be effective, so he reaches out to grab your hand, dragging your attention back toward him. “I killed your family, Osamu.”

“She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s granddaughter—she was asleep, had a bear tucked in her arms and a nightlight on the right side of her bed. I slit her throat, then both of her older brothers. They were kids.”

Her name was Akane. Bunji and Touma were her brothers. 

They were Dazai’s brothers. Dazai’s sister. The stuffed bear was called Coco, and Akane would clutch it and cry whenever Dazai started talking about things like death. She was scared of dying; more than that, scared of the people she loved dying. She cried for weeks when their grandmother passed, and got angry at Dazai when he didn’t even cry at the funeral. Dazai used to share a bedroom with her and Touma, but he hated her nightlight—it was purple and it was always right in Dazai’s eyes when he laid down. He convinced his mother to force Bunji to swap rooms with him, so Dazai had his own room on the second floor of his grandfather’s estate.

“You were a kid too,” Dazai rasps out the same thing he said at the beach house, but it comes out a bit weaker this time knowing exactly who the people you killed were. “You were fourteen. You-”

“I played a role in tracking your mother down,” you continue. Dazai’s breath catches as his fingers loosen around yours. “It was my punishment for not making sure all of the grandchildren were… eliminated. I was the one that was tracking her down, and I was the one that was going to interrogate her for your whereabouts when I found her.”

“Stop,” Dazai says quietly, voice wavering.

“No,” you reply firmly. “No. You need to understand this-”

“I do,” Dazai insists, voice cracking. “I do understand-”

“You don’t, Dazai,” you raise your voice and Dazai cringes back. You sigh and soften your voice, but the damage has been done, Dazai’s fight or flight instincts have been triggered. This conversation is not going to end in his favor, so he needs to run before he gets hurt, but he can’t because you have him stuck in the bath with you. You reach out again to take his hands in yours, fingers absently running along the scars on his wrists. “You don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so quick to join me in here. You haven’t even had time to process it.”

“Yes, I have,” Dazai whispers weakly. “I have.”

“I ruined your life, Osamu,” you say quietly. “Everything bad that’s ever happened to you started with me.”

“That’s not true,” Dazai argues, nails biting into your skin as he clings to you. “My life sucked before everything really went to shit. The first time I tried to kill myself, I was eleven. You saved my life. I was going to kill myself that night we met at the bar. You saved me.”

“Osamu-”

“You’re not listening to me,” Dazai interrupts, voice taking a more manic edge as he shakes his head. He can talk himself out of any situation—why is he failing now when it matters most? “You’re not listening. You saved me. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you breathe out, but the words don’t settle his nerves because they’re heavy and full of sorrow, and the tears that had been pooling in your eyes finally start to spill over.

“Then why does this still feel like a goodbye?” he begs, breath shallow as he searches your face for an answer.

You don’t respond, but you don’t need to. He finds his answer in your eyes. He always does. You look at him again with that desperate, longing expression, like you’re trying to memorize the details of his face even though you know it’s futile. 

This is a goodbye.

--

Dazai hasn’t spoken to you once since your conversation in the bath.

Chuuya, your subordinates, and the Flags are back now, and Dazai is sulking in the bedroom watching one of his dumb reality shows. You can hardly focus on the conversation at hand because of it, and you know the others are starting to get irritated by your distraction considering the stakes at play right now. If one thing goes wrong, all of your lives would be forfeit. They’re risking everything by helping you right now, and you can't even bother to give them your full attention.

“Out,” Piano Man suddenly says. Your gaze snaps toward him, as does all of the others’ in the room. When nobody immediately moves, he raises his eyebrows and continues dryly, “Are you all hard of hearing? I said get out.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Albatross demands. “Her boy’s in the bedroom. This place is small-”

“Go crowd in the closet for all I care. Get out,” Piano Man says dismissively. Still, no one moves until his gaze sharpens and they realize he’s being entirely serious. You shift to leave with them until his eyes land on you. “Not you.”

You feel like a child about to be scolded, which is ridiculous because you’re a mafioso, and though Piano Man is technically the same rank as you, he’s not really. He can’t scold you, but you shift awkwardly on your feet and share a concerned look with Chuuya anyway as they all wander out of the safe house and into the small hallway outside.

Once the two of you are alone, you finally glance back at Piano Man, who’s watching you carefully. After a few moments he says, “I take it you told him the plan?”

“I did,” you reply quietly.

“He didn’t take it well?” Piano Man questions.

“You know the answer to that,” you say a bit more dryly before shaking your head. “Would you have taken it well?”

“Of course not, I’d be livid,” Piano Man says immediately, making you cringe. “Does this mean we’re changing the plan?” 

“No,” you tell him. “We can’t. This is the only option.”

“I know,” Piano Man says with a thin smile. “So stop sulking and get your head in the game so we don’t all die trying to perform a coup.”

You’re startled by the sudden sharpness in his voice, but you suppose you shouldn’t be. Piano Man has always been capricious, going from his whimsical moods to more cold and ruthless ones within a matter of seconds. You can hardly meet his eyes now, looking down at the ground to avoid them.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask after a few moments.

You don’t have to look at Piano Man to see the way he raises his eyebrows judgmentally. “Excuse me?” 

“I was going to kill you earlier. I held a gun to your head. Why are you helping me?” you press, the words weighing heavily on you as you remember the way he met your eyes when you lifted the muzzle of your gun to his temple.

Piano Man has the audacity to look amused. “When I first recruited Lippmann, I tried to drown him in the harbor because I got paranoid he sold me out to the feds after a mission went wrong. It happens—the next time it does, I’m going to be pulling my own gun out though. So, don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t apologize often, even when you know you’re entirely in the wrong. Mori has taught you only to apologize when it serves you, otherwise you should never make an admission of guilt or liability. So it’s not surprising when Piano Man’s eyebrows shoot upward, but his expression softens after a moment. He reaches out to pat your head.

“I know this isn’t easy,” he murmurs, “but we need you at the top of your game if this is going to work.”

“I know,” you reply. “... I know.”

“Good,” he says, patting the top of your head yet again before sighing. “Let me go get them and we’ll get back to planning, okay?”

“Mkay.”

You lean back against the wall as you look down at the table Lippmann set up for planning. The Flags, your subordinates, Kajii Motojiro—they’re non-factors in the planned coup. The Flags will support it, your subordinates will support you, and all Kajii cares about is his experiments. Paul Verlaine is not quite as secure, but Chuuya is confident that he’ll support whatever Chuuya goes along with.

The issue lies in Kouyou and the Black Lizards.

You already feel a headache come on just at the thought, lifting your hands to your head and rubbing your eyes as you knock the back of your head against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. Kouyou and Hirotsu won’t support the coup, you know it. They’re both loyal to Mori—both victims of the previous boss who found refuge in Mori when he took over. They’ll fight for him, and you know better than anyone that during a forceful transition of power, all dissidents must be removed, especially ones that hold significant power and influence.

But it’s Kouyou and Hirotsu. Kouyou, who was the one to teach you how to do your makeup properly, who bought you your first kimono to match her own. Hirotsu, who was always quick to execute anyone that openly disrespected you, who took you to a movie on your fifteenth birthday when Mori was busy dealing with the power transition so you didn’t spend it alone. The thought makes you sick—they were family, and maybe Hirotsu could be convinced. He’s loyal to Mori, yes, but more than that, he’s loyal to the Port Mafia. If you can manufacture a legitimate reason for the coup…

You sigh as you glance down the hall where Dazai is hiding in the bedroom, startled when your gaze catches his familiar brown. He’s seemingly just as surprised that you caught him spying, immediately slamming the bedroom door shut to retreat back into the safety of the room. Your lips curl up into a small smile, which is quickly washed away when your subordinates, the Flags and Chuuya all file back into the room.

“I’ll talk to Ane-san,” Chuuya finally says, reigniting the conversation. “I’ll make her see reason.”

“There’s no time for talking, Chuuya,” Piano Man tells him. “This all has to be done within hours. If we let word get out about what we’re doing… The coup is risky, and a civil war would be the end of this city.”

Frustration flashes across Chuuya’s face. “I’m not budging on this,” he says, voice tight with thinly restrained anger. “Either you give me the chance to talk to her, or I’ll withdraw my support.”

“Chuuya,” you sigh tiredly, wanting nothing more than to just sit down.

“No,” Chuuya interrupts you. “I won’t actively stand against you, but I won’t stand with you if you don’t give me the chance to talk to her.”

“Fine,” you finally say even though you know it’s a mistake. It’s asking for trouble. Piano Man gives you a sharp, disapproving look, but you shake your head. “It’s fine. She won’t be keeping her executive position.”

Chuuya’s face twists. “But-”

“No.” This time you interrupt him, holding up your hand. “I’m not budging on this. If you want the chance to talk to her and convince her this is the best route, I’ll give you it, but you need to meet me halfway. She’s not retaining her executive position.”

Chuuya looks unhappy, but after a few moments, he nods. “Fine.”

“I can’t risk it, Chuuya,” you tell him quietly. “I need people who I trust in the inner circle. I can’t trust her after what just happened.”

“I get it,” Chuuya says. “I just don’t like it.”

“That leaves three executive seats we need to fill.” Piano Man lets out a heavy sigh as he sits on the edge of the table, tilting his head back in exhaustion. “Your’s, Ace’s, and Kouyou-san’s. Do you even have three more people who you trust?”

Klaus and Akutagawa, you think to yourself, but neither of them are executive material. Your gaze drifts over to Albatross, Iceman, and Doc, each of them pointedly looks away, none of them want the open seats. Lippmann can’t take it, not with what you have planned for him. So, who else-

“Verlaine?” Chuuya offers. “He’s got a ton of experience with the European organizations—we’ll probably need it considering Dostoevsky’s involvement with the Guild, and this Book that’s apparently somewhere in the city. If it gets out to the public, we’ll have organizations swarming just like during the Dragon’s Head.”

You don’t like the idea of Verlaine being an executive, and you don’t think Piano Man does either considering his unfortunate first meeting with the man, but Chuuya raises good points. You have your own experience with the European underworld, but it’s nothing like what Verlaine has.

“Okay,” you agree, “and the other two?”

The Black Lizards are its own command unit that answers directly to the Boss. They don’t have a seat at the table because it’s not their field. Their field is war, not politics… but what other options are there? The people you trust are far and few in-between, you can probably count them on one hand.

“What about Tolstoy?” a familiar voice asks quietly from down the hallway. You look up immediately, gaze focusing on where Dazai is standing in the door of the bedroom, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatshirt, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t like the attention of everyone on him, so he keeps his eyes trained fully on you. “Mishima?”

“They’re not part of the Port Mafia,” Chuuya dismisses, “they don’t get seats.”

“But what if they were?” Dazai presses, shuffling forward. He hardly spares Chuuya a glance before looking at you again. “The transition of power is going to be shaky, you need to strengthen your position in other ways, otherwise…”

“You think we should merge with the Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel,” Piano Man realizes, sitting up straighter as he considers Dazai’s proposition. “Doesn’t that risk destabilizing us even more though?”

He looks at you for an answer, but your gaze is focused on Dazai. He’s not even gone yet, but you already miss him desperately; all you want is to be with him, but it’s just not possible. You can’t have him and run the Port Mafia at the same time; he will die because of his affiliation with you, just like he almost did when the Guild captured him. It wouldn’t matter how safe you tried to keep him, one mistake and he would die. And that will lead to every decision you make being centered around him, not what’s best for the Port Mafia and that will lead to its inevitable ruin. 

“No, Osamu’s right,” you say, and Dazai preens at the praise, but then quickly deflates again. You want to reach out for him, but you refrain. “Not a merger. An acquisition. The Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel are already pretty much extensions of the Port Mafia, we would only be formalizing it. I trust Tolstoy and Mishima—I pretty much built the Three Deaths into what it is today myself. We’d give the Port Mafia an official foothold in Russia, more sway over everything that happens in Tokyo. It’s a good plan. Great one, even.”

“Will they even agree to it?” Chuuya asks doubtfully. “Go from being fully autonomous to answering to us.”

“They pretty much already do just answer to us,” Albatross mutters.

“They’ll agree to it,” you tell him quietly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Tolstoy won’t be hard to convince. He, Chekhov and Gorky are all good friends of yours, you helped them build the Three Deaths, you helped them win territory battles against the Pale Flame and the Red Chamber. All it would take a few words of convincing for them to agree to it. Mishima might be more difficult, but all you have to do is convince his daughters, and they hang off your every word.

There might be some dissent from the Sun and Steel executives, but even then, you think it would be minimal at worst. It’s a good plan. Having Tolstoy and Mishima sitting at the executive table would lend you some much needed support during the transition, and with the Port Mafia subsuming the Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel, it would provide a major deterrence against any foreign movements from Cao Xueqin or Yi Sang.

“What about Hirotsu and the Black Lizards?” Akutagawa asks, shifting awkwardly when all eyes turn to him. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and you know it’s because he actually cares about what your answer might be. Akutagawa likes to pretend that he doesn’t care about anyone, but you know he has a soft spot for the unit that took Gin in so easily.

“We can’t afford to lose the Black Lizards,” Iceman notes as he lights another cigarette. “Especially if we’re bringing in other organizations. We don't want our own people to feel like they’re being lost in the mix, y’know?”

“I’ll handle Hirotsu,” you finally say. “It’ll be fine. I just need to figure out how to frame this. Needs to be framed in a way that makes him feel like this was the best, and only, course of action for the Mafia. He’s loyal to Mori only to the extent that he’s good for the Port Mafia. I’ll figure it out. Leave that to me.”

“Ace’s subordinates?” Albatross prompts. “They been handled? We can’t have them knowing about him. Can’t have anyone knowing about him.”

“Dead,” Akutagawa says. “I killed them.”

“Security cameras? CCTV? Any record of this kid being affiliated with us?” 

“Wiped,” Klaus answers flippantly. “We’ve gone through it every day since they met. Weren’t allowed to sleep ‘til made sure everything from the day was wiped. There’s no physical record of him ever being around us.”

“Okay, so we get this settled, and then we wait on Repin for the rest of us, right?” Albatross asks. Dazai cringes at the mention of Repin, and you look away from him, unable to watch the pain that crosses his face.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “It all needs to happen within no more than a couple days otherwise we risk the wrong people finding out so…”

“So we should get started,” Chuuya sighs, pushing himself off the wall. He squeezes your wrist as he passes by you, walking in the direction of the door. “We’ll give you guys some time. I’ll let you know how things go with Ane-san.”

You nod, eyes following him as he leaves. The others follow, filing out of the room until it’s only you and Dazai left again. You turn to look at him, so many words on your lips but incapable of pushing a single one out. Instead, you reach out to cup his face between your hands, running your thumbs across his cheekbones. His lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he whispers, brown eyes heavy and glassy as he looks down at you. “We can figure something else out. I know we can. Just give me some time, I just need a little time, I’ll figure something out.”

“We don’t have time,” you say, voice cracking over the words. “I love you, Osamu.”

Dazai pulls away, shaking his head. He wipes quickly at his eyes before looking at you again. You expect what he says, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I won’t forgive you. Not for this. Not ever. I can’t.”

“I know.”

--

SIX WEEKS LATER

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting this invitation,” a familiar voice hums as the door to your box opens. You don’t turn to look at him, keeping your gaze trained down on the performance taking place below. “Not from you, and not after everything that’s happened.”

“No?” you ask absently. “It’s unlike you to not expect something, Dostoevsky. Less like you to admit it.”

“Fyodor,” he corrects as he comes to stand next to you. He’s close enough to you that you can feel his body brushing yours. You finally turn your head to look at him—his lips are curved up into a deceptively soft smile, violet eyes glittering with a type of mischief that you know is dangerous. “We are well enough acquainted to be on a first name basis, no?” 

“Dostoevsky,” you repeat pointedly, looking back down at the show as the first act reaches its climax. Of all of the shows you’ve seen, Tosca is still your favorite. This rendition here at the New National Theatre isn’t quite as good as the one at La Scala, but you’re enjoying it well enough.

Dostoevsky lets out a huff of laughter, you don’t turn to look at him when you feel him reach out to touch you. His fingers trace along the maroon scarf hanging loosely over your shoulders. You barely withhold a shiver when you feel his knuckles skim your neck—rumor has it, skin-on-skin contact alone with Dostoevsky is enough to kill. You don’t die, but it’s enough to beckon your attention back to him.

“Red is your color,” he murmurs, looking down at you through his lashes. “You look beautiful.”

“It isn’t yours,” you reply quickly, glancing down at the red tie tied neatly around his neck. “Neither is flattery.”

Dostoevsky does laugh this time—it’s soft and short, pretty like a bell. Unbefitting of him, just like the color red and false flattery. 

“It isn’t?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively playful. “I wore it for you. Since you invited me, I thought it appropriate that we match. I heard of your success in Yokohama. I should congratulate you on your new promotion. Or perhaps extend my condolences for the death of your father? Are condolences still proper when you were the one to drive the knife into his back?”

It’s a dig, an attempt to get under your skin and throw you off before getting into the meat of the conversation. You can feel his eyes on you, the soft playfulness gone and replaced by a sharpness that has you on edge.

“You said it yourself. One life or thousands.”

“It was a bullet to the head,” you correct idly—the words taste like poison on your tongue, but you’re careful to not let it show on your face. “Condolences are unnecessary. He was not my father.”

“It’s okay, dear, this was how it was always meant to be.”

“Hm,” Dostoevsky hums, amused. “I was quite pleased when I found out about the coup. I wasn’t expecting it.”

He wants to add something else but he decides against it. He’s very calculating with his words, he always has been, but he is especially now. You know that each word he speaks is chosen for a specific purpose, and it’s hard, even for you, to break down each one as he speaks it to understand why he says it so you can choose your own words carefully in return. Fyodor Dostoevsky is the only man capable of consistently beating you in exchanges of words, and that is concerning. 

It’s why you invited him here—you need an idea of what he’s planning while you solidify your newfound position.

“It seems you struggle to expect many things I do,” you note. “I should add it to my resume. I doubt many people are capable of repeatedly surprising Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

“It is true,” he agrees with an airy laugh. “You are a… difficult opponent. I will admit it.”

 “Is that so?”

Dostoevsky makes a soft noise of agreement, lashes fluttering as he glances over at you once before he looks back down at the show taking place down on the stage. 

“You are not guided strictly by logic,” he muses. “It's there, of course, you are very intelligent but it’s laced with so many emotions. It is difficult for me to determine your course of action because I can never predict when you will lead with emotion, and when with logic. And even then, there are grades to it. I could account for dozens of plans of action and miss the one you take because you are just a bit less emotional than I anticipated… I did not predict that you would go for Zelda Fitzgerald, it was quite bold—there was a high risk for failure. You make things… much more interesting. I enjoy it.”

“You would find something like that enjoyable,” you say sarcastically, taking a sip of your champagne. “There is something seriously wrong with you, Dostoevsky.”

“Fyodor,” he corrects again with a light smile. 

“Dostoevsky.”

“Heh,” he laughs quietly. “I will… wait for things to settle before making another move here in Yokohama. I’m curious to see how all of the chips fall on their own. You’re in for quite the storm with that bill that just passed through the Diet, aren’t you?”

You don’t respond. You got the answer you needed, so there’s no reason for you to keep entertaining his snide comments; you’ll just watch the show in peace. You’ll have the bit of time you need to get things settled before Dostoevsky makes his next play. Though the man is a compulsive liar and you have no reason to trust him, Dostoevsky has never lied so blatantly to your face, so you’ll take him at his word until you have reason to believe otherwise. 

Dostoevsky takes your silence as an opportunity to continue talking, naturally.

“I did have a question for though,” he says, a bit too thrilled by the prospect of your answer. You don’t like the way his eyes are lit up, and you especially don’t like the smile on his lips. “Entertain me?”

You raise your eyebrows pointedly, waiting for him to ask it. 

“I heard rumors that the reason behind your sudden decision to overthrow your father was more… intimate than most believe,” Dostoevsky murmurs, leaning like he’s sharing in some schoolgirl gossip with an old friend. Your brows furrow as you process his words. “You must tell me what boy has managed to steal your heart. He must be something special. Not even I was capable of that, I’m almost jealous.”

You look at him now, gaze sharp but confused as your eyes trail over him before focusing back on his face. He seems surprised by your reaction, tilting his head to the side and studying you carefully.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

--

to be continued in ... the land is inhospitable (but are we?) [est. release: early feb]

--

WOWWWWWW GUYS WE FUCKING FINISHED CIVZAI .... or well, ;) civzai1. some notes:

i promised a happy ending, i know ... but i promised it for civzai in general, and they DO have a happy ending ... just not yet. pls dont bully me ill cry i'm so proud of this. i didn't lie.

i always intended on there being two parts to this series because i feel like time apart is essential in the pmreader universe. when dazai defected in canon universe, and now with her taking over as boss and wiping her memories of him. the first part was always gonna be the guild arc, the second arc is gonna be my rendition of the hunting dogs and the decay of the angel

this is the ONLY universe where pmreader becomes port mafia boss ;) i actually had it noted that there was only one universe on the background page in wykyk once i started writing wasteland, baby but no one caught it ;) i was wondering if anyone would put two and two together

i actually went back and retconned chapter 1 to have them talking about the divine comedy instead of petrarch because of the first scene in this chapter. i thought it would be neat coming full circle with the themes of betrayal and death, + the hozier song this chapter is based on is about the 9th circle in the divine comedy. so everything just tied together too neatly for me to not add it.

;) just remember now with repin involved, reader's narration is now entirely unreliable. we don't know what's truth and manufactured by repin.

i was actually really tempted to base civzai2 off of a mother mother album just because hayloft II fits what's going to be the first half of it SO fucking well, but i had to go with mitski because the whole album literally captures the vibes of the second series perfectly

[sunderwight]

Honestly fascinated trying to figure out how both of Ambessa's kids ended up being diametrically opposed to her whole jock spartan might-makes-right mentality.

Tthe obvious answer, of course, is that Ambessa's husband (Kino's dad, and the guy Mel thought was her bio dad until recently) was way more of a diplomat and way less of a fighter, both philosophically as well as in terms of skill. And that he's the one who passed this on to the kids.

This fits well enough as an answer. The guy in the portrait certainly looks more like a talker than a fighter, and we know that Ambessa has a thing for pretty, submissive men thanks to her whole introduction in S1. Also, regardless of Mel's genetics this is presumably the man who raised her and is her father in the "nurture" sense of the equation, so it would be completely reasonable for her to take after him.

However, there are a few issues here.

One is the fact that even when Mel is talking to who she thinks is Kino about the possibility of one of them being a bastard, or of a bastard half-sibling existing, neither of them mention their father at all. While I doubt either of them would hold illusions about Ambessa remaining faithful to a spouse (for all we know the guy's still alive while she's off carousing with twinks), you would think that if both kids were close to their dad or took after him particularly, there'd be at least a passing mention of him in the midst of this discussion.

Maybe Mr. Medarda died a long time ago, though. Perhaps it's a topic so buried that it's an established habit to simply never mention it. Or maybe there is an issue of estrangement between him and his children for other reasons. He doesn't seem to have factored into Ambessa's decision to send Mel away, nor is his potential grief brought up around the subject of Kino. Despite confirmation of his existence, he seems (ironically) to be out of the picture, though it could also just be that the writers wanted to leave their options open for what he might be like in case another Arcane-adjacent series comes into production. I am fairly sure that Mel is the most likely character from Arcane to create continuity into a show about Noxus or Demacia or something, if we get another LoL series, especially since her story feels the most unfinished.

However, there's another possibility, which is that Mr. Medarda up there was such a nonentity in his kids lives that he doesn't come up because there's not much of a relationship to acknowledge. In which case, even if he is more of a diplomat (and he and Ambessa were a political marriage, presumably?) it'd be hard to credit him with influencing the kids so significantly.

One of the interesting things about Mel and Kino is that even though they are at odds with their mother on a lot of topics, topics that even seem to tie into prevailing Noxian cultural ideals (so, things they'd have been overall raised to believe in by the rest of their house and not just their mother too), they are also kind of astonishingly confident in expressing themselves?

So, somebody must have been supporting their alternative viewpoints and validating them as opinions worth expressing, even if they weren't things Ambessa approved of or actually wanted to foster in them as opinions/philosophies.

I think an interesting option is that it was Ambessa herself who did this, actually.

Ambessa's lore mentions that she figured out really early on that Kino did not share her temperament at all. Also, that she started searching about for ways of ensuring not only her house's domination, but the survival of her children specifically. Because the succession in a Noxian noble house doesn't seem to be guaranteed by birthright, which means that Kino and Mel would probably face rivals from their own family if they seemed too weak or vulnerable to lead, and someone else contested it. An easy way to remove a "weak" leader would also be to just kill them off. That's even apart from external rivals (like the ones who actually did kill Kino).

Which means that even if her kids had different values and priorities, Ambessa would probably have wanted them to still present those opinions with ferocity and confidence. If they cower to her, they will cower to others, and that's worse than them just not being aggressive combatants or warlord types. If you're gonna be a peacenik weirdo (by Ambessa's standards) in Noxus then you better damn well still be an assertive one.

I like this idea partly because the image of Ambessa trying to balance her kids having totally alien opinions about things like the value of life and importance of compassion, with trying not to actually beat down their spirits about it. Just spending a lot of their formative years being like, ugh, I have to listen to my nerd ass loser children tell me why they think mercy is a good idea. Such a fucking chore. Anyway great job presenting your arguments kids, lots to think about, let's go get ice cream. Then Mother has to fire one of your military tactics instructors for daring to call you a couple of wieners. Again. Even though she's right.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

To add onto that Malleus popularity speculation, I think another major reason why that you never mentioned is the simple fact that characters of Malleus' archetype are just more popular in general in the west amongst working age women.

There are plenty of adult novel containing male supernatural love interests. Fae and vampire romance novels are still extremely popular amongst adult readers. A Court of Thorns and Roses is technically an ADULT novel, NOT YA. Even m|m supernatural stories even fall into this category with Stolas/Blitz from Helluva Boss being an extremely popular over here. That pairing is from an adult animated show. Stolas shares a lot of similarities with Malleus.

Hell, even if you step into western contemporary romance novels, the male love interest tends to be more brooding and angsty with flawed leads. Everything from classic literature like Jane Eyre to modern shit like anything Colleen Hoover writes. (Don't get it twisted. I'm NOT saying that Malleus is anything like those leads. Just using those very popular example of brooding bad boy love interests in adult contemporary fiction in the west.)

Meanwhile in East Asia, those sorts of leads tend to be geared towards teenagers. Working age women want a more stable, realistic love interest that would take care of them like Trey.

Westerners seem to prefer more complex, intense romantic relationships, where the stakes feel higher and the emotional payoff is more significant. They will naturally write Trey off as a "big brother" character instead of seeing him as a romantic lead material thanks to being more used to seeing characters like Malleus as the love interest in stories.

I could be way off base, since I'm not Asian and far from being an expert on Japanese culture, but that's my two cents based on my observations. This is also based on broad generalizations. Neither culture is a monolith.

[Referencing this post and (more specifically!) my speculation here!]

Oh, for sure 💀 I made a post a while ago talking about how Malleus (especially from the yumejoshi/self-shipping perspective) reminds me a lot of the new "Shadow Daddy" archetype that has emerged in the romantasy genre. I mean, just look at how many of the Shadow Daddy traits Malleus ticks off:

is a nonhuman being (usually fae)

500 yrs old (or at least several hundred years old or a significant age gap between the Shadow Daddy love interest and typically female main character)

looks young and hot/conventionally attractive despite the age

is OP (usually with shadow/night/darkness related magic)

is royalty or in some kind of position of power

dark hair and/or skin (sometimes both)

“morally grey” and/or has issues (you can fix him)

brooding

looks or is rumored to be intimidating but is actually lonely and misunderstood, with a heart of gold

animalistic in some manner (usually with bat/raven/dragon-like wings)

has a tattoo or some kind of bodily markings (Malleus has the scales under his hair; you could also count the OB facial markings I guess)

Outside of romantasy novels geared towards older teens (18-19) and adults, the west seems to really love brooding bad boys as love interests in a lot of its media. Something else I noticed is that the "good guys" or the "boy next door" types like Trey tend to be "the other man" in heterosexual love triangles, which miiight also explain why he gets looked over in the western fandom. (I discussed some of my own observations, which are similar to the points mentioned here, in the posts linked above.)

I wouldn’texactly phrase it like westerners preferring "more complex, intense romantic relationships [... with higher stakes and more significant emotional payoff]", as that unintentionally implies that there has to be brooding or angst in order for the story or character arc to be "good". I feel a lot of it actually depends on the execution rather than the tropes present. For example, I've seen many "Shadow Daddies" that exist purely for wish fulfillment rather than emotional or story/character complexity (which, to be clear, there's nothing wrong with if this is the kind of thing you enjoy!). Wholesome or "normal" romances also have the capacity to be complex, intense, high-stakes, and emotionally significant too! Again, it all depends on the quality of writing and what one's personal preferences are. You'll find outliers regardless of culture as well--as the asker has stated, no culture is a monolith!

[youhideastar]

Fangs of Fortune: A Primer

I keep hoping someone funnier or better with images than me will write a primer for this show, but I haven’t seen it yet, so it’s looking like I’m going to have to be the propaganda I want to see in the world.

Fangs of Fortune is a 34.5-episode drama that takes place in Ancient Fantasy China, split between the human world and the Wilderness (home of the yao/demons). You can watch it on iQiyi or YouTube. There will be some spoilers below, mostly for early episodes; photos here are from official production stills/promos. As far as I can tell, Fangs of Fortune is a (successful) attempt to get a m/m romantic pairing past the censors by giving the dudes a(n also-queer) female love interest as well, which is neat. The show cares way more about the characters than about the plot, so I’m going to follow suit, starting with…

Zhao Yuanzhou, a.k.a. Zhu Yan

30,000-year-old suicidal Great Demon with suave DILF energy, sky-high self-confidence, and rock-bottom self-worth. 8 years before the show opens, he was possessed by malicious energy and killed a ton of people, including the only living relatives (father and brother) of this guy:

Zhuo Yichen

24-year-old swordsman and demon hunter (head of the Demon Hunting Bureau, in fact), who wears the most beautiful costumes of all time, has sworn to avenge his family, and happens to be in possession of the only weapon that can kill the aforementioned Great Demon Zhao Yuanzhou—if only he knew how to use it.

On the dynamic between Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen, which is the driving force of this show, I can’t do better than this post and this post – please go read them, you will not regret it. In the meantime, please enjoy some homoerotic violent hand-holding.

Zhao Yuanzhou shows up at the Demon Hunting Bureau very sexily and offers to teach Zhuo Yichen to use said weapon, if Zhuo Yichen will (a) swear to kill him with it once they’re done, and (b) in the meantime, let Zhao Yuanzhou join the demon hunting crew. Specifically, he demands to be paired up with this lady:

Wen Xiao

Scholar, demon hunter, Zhuo Yichen’s sort-of foster sister, and technically the Baize Goddess, guardian of the Wilderness… but when her predecessor as Baize Goddess died, she couldn’t complete the transfer of her powers to Wen Xiao, leaving Wen Xiao unable to do the job, and sickly to boot. Wen Xiao compensates by being smarter, more socially adept, and more mentally healthy than everyone else in this cast… although I will grant that’s a low bar to clear.

While recruiting a crew to go after a pesky water demon, Wen Xiao runs into…

Pei Sijing

Stoic archer who recently retired from demon-hunting after she had to kill her own brother; target of Wen Xiao’s very persistent affections.

Here they are being cute together:

Congratulations, you have now met the polycule! There are also two comic-relief teenagers (with obligatory difficult backstories) and two villains, one of whom is boring and will be ignored, and one of whom is Zhao Yuanzhou’s human-hating mall goth demon ex-boyfriend Li Lun, as seen below:

There is not really an overarching plot: in general, the plot is driven by the desire to get Wen Xiao fully powered-up as the Baize Goddess so that she can fix stuff that has gone wrong in the Wilderness, but after a certain point, most plot arcs are driven by problems caused in the previous plot arc. The writers are way more invested in putting the characters in Situations that will crunch them up against each other in interesting ways than in having a coherent plot or worldbuilding. Fortunately, they are very good at writing these characters reacting to each other in Situations, so it works out.

Why should you watch this show? First, it is delightfully gay and there is great fic for it, which you will get more out of if you’re familiar with canon (but don’t let that stop you from diving in now…). Second, the writers are really good at building compelling relationships between characters, romantic and otherwise, and in particular, they have a gift for writing two-character dialogue scenes and cute banter. Third, damn, this is maybe the most visually beautiful show I’ve ever seen in my life. The costumes, in particular, are unbelievable.

Are there downsides? Yeah, candidly, you are going to spend a chunk of the first third of the show sitting through long flashbacks that I call The Ponderous Tragic Backstories of the Het Guest Stars when all you want to do is get back to the main characters. Don’t worry, the whole show is not like this. It happens four times (three toward the beginning and once toward the end). And at least even the Ponderous Tragic Backstories of the Het Guest Stars are still very pretty to look at.

Anyway – check it out! Ask me if you have questions! Correct me if I goofed on anything! See you in Queer Poly Ancient Fantasy China!

(Edited to correct the number of episodes, thank you, @kandadze!)

[mike-smh]

Chat, I have a lot of opinions on the hermitcraft fandom, specifically a lot of common headcanons or AU’s people have. So if you don’t wanna read them that’s fine this is just me rambling lol.

Grian

Grian is constantly portrayed as an innocent little guy who only ever did the bad things because he was possessed by watchers. I hate this because so many people infantilize him in order to make him look more innocent. He is a fully grown man with a wife. He is probably twice the age of the people who write him in this way.

I have three major issues with this. Firstly, he can’t be possessed by a watcher since within canon the watchers are just the audience. I know that in some people’s AU’s the watchers are godlike entities who can do possessions and control people. But if that’s true then why would they control Grian specifically and make just him innocent and make everyone else the bad guys.

Secondly, it’s unfair to ignore every single action he’s done that has hurt people. It’s unfair to force everyone to forgive him just because he “wasn’t in control”, possessed or not he still hurt people in so many ways. Everyone he hurt has a right to be angry with him even if he was possessed because he still hurt them.

Lastly, Grian absolutely knows what he’s doing, because he pulls pranks on hermitcraft that are a lot like the things he’s done in the life series. And canonically watchers aren’t on hermitcraft because they simply don’t exist there. People make AU’s where they do exist on hermitcraft which is whatever but still. Grian is still in control of himself when he does bad things, he is self aware and has made multiple points of being self aware when he has done harmful things to people.

Scar

I have so many complaints about fanon Scar. A lot of people also infantilize him and never acknowledge the fact he’s in fact manipulative, cunning, deceitful and a villian. People really only portray him as someone who’s in love with Grian and will just be a punching bag for the other life series members as if he doesn’t know how to stand up for himself.

I actually have five main points about Scar because although Fanon Grian is something I'm also passionate about, the fandom just does Scar dirty and completely changes him into someone unrecognizable.

So, firstly, I hate that the fandom makes Scar into a man who doesn’t know how to stand up for himself. They constantly portray him as someone who’s a people pleaser and just does whatever anyone wants. They turn him into a doormat and punching bag when in actuality he is very much the opposite. Scar is manipulative, he never says no to an idea if he doesn’t want to do it. He has many canon kills, there’s times where he’s killed people when he didn’t even need to, he did it just for fun. Or during 3rd life when he made Bdubs and Grian fight for their lives.

Many people make the excuse that he only did that because he was a red life but that doesn’t make sense because he’s done that on hermitcraft too. His persona Hotguy is literally a hero that kills whoever he wants, he just shoots people at any time and kills them. Also during season five, when Convex originated, he constantly killed others for his entertainment. And again, people make the excuse that he was controlled by the Vexes. Okay, that’s a valid argument, except when you remember he was a corrupt mayor in season seven. He was a swindler in season eight where he took everyone’s money so that they actually got a chance to live through the moon crashing and he helped King Ren in season nine.

Another point is that people make him way too forgiving. Especially towards Grian and everything Grian has done to him. When he has literally, on multiple occasions, referenced bitterly to all the things Grian’s done to him. He’s known to hold grudges against people in both hermitcraft and in the life series. It makes absolutely no sense to make him a constantly forgiving person, that is unless he is nothing but a love interest for Grian. So many people infantilize Scar just so that they can justify shipping Scarian, because they know that if they took all the canon information at face value that Scarian would never be a healthy relationship.

Taking that into account leads us to our next topic, people like to completely disregard any personality Scar has in favor of just making him into a shipping vessel for Scarian. Some people make his entire personality into just liking Grian. People like to make him forgive Grian for everything he’s done, even him cheating on Scar during Double Life, just because they like the ship. And honestly, it grosses me out. Seeing people completely disregard how toxic Grian and Scars relationship actually is and change them both into characters completely unrecognizable from canon just so they can have their ship.

I’m sure there’s so much more I can complain about when it comes to Fanon Scar but I’ll make just one last point. His disability. I’ve seen a lot of people make Scars personality revolve around his disability. People essentially making fun of him in a way, making him stutter every sentence, unable to read properly, constantly bringing up how he can’t walk, etc. Now, as a disabled person these inherently aren’t bad things, there’s nothing wrong with bringing these things up and talking about them. It’s just how you talk and bring them up is what’s important, some people talk about it in a way to mock him.

Making him the butt of the joke because he can’t pronounce somethings properly, mocking him because he struggles with reading. Which in my opinion, is disgusting. Yes the cc makes jokes like this with the other hermits, but the other hermits are his friends. You, as a viewer, are not his friend, you don’t know him and you don’t know if he’s hurt by random strangers making fun of him for things he cannot control and making his disabilities his entire personality.

Mumbo

Mumbo. My man, Mumbo K. Jumbo, the Redstone innovator, the man who made a house that can walk. What I’ve noticed about him is that he gets so watered down in Fanon, I swear people just don’t want to give him an ounce of personality. So I will be talking in detail about that.

First of all, people make his entire personality just being a silly guy, they give him no strengths, no weaknesses, they just make him an NPC I swear. They make him act all timid and clueless like he doesn’t know how to do anything at all, they make him helpless. When he literally isn’t, he’s just as villainous as anyone else. He does what he wants to, he kills who he wants to, he threatens people, he literally blew up his entire base just because he wanted to.

Second of all, I swear that it always somehow circles back to Grian, and I despise that. Because for some reason people again, forget everything toxic thing he and Grian have done and just ship them and make Mumbo into nothing but a love interest for Grian. It’s just so disappointing to see people give absolutely none of the other hermits any personality.

Third of all, Mumbo has pulled pranks with the intention of killing people. He constantly kills his friends or messes with them in ways to harm them or greatly annoy them. He constantly stands up for himself in situations and he manipulates people whenever he wants something. He is so much more than being a “spoon”, he is so much more than just being a silly guy who stresses over redstone. He’s not even just a redstoner, he’s a builder too but it seems that people also disregard that part of him as well because it just doesn’t fit into the vision of him being helpless.

So, in conclusion, people like making everything about Grian, people like making everything revolve around Grian. Scars personality? Changed and watered down so that people can have a “healthy” desert duo. Mumbo’s personality? Changed and watered down so Grian can have someone who supports him and constantly forgives him for all of the literal crimes he commits.

So, you might be asking, “Narrator, what’s the point of this? Why did you spend an hour writing about fully grown men who play Minecraft for a living?” Because I’m sick of seeing fully grown men being infantilized for a bunch of teens' enjoyment. Just so they can ship them together and make their favorite character (commonly Grian) be a better person and actually likable.

So what’s the point you ask? The point is that I fucking hate some of the hermitcraft fandom, specifically the people who don’t like people who don’t share the same opinions and or do any of the things I’ve listed. I’m not saying the people who do these things are bad people, just that I personally dislike them. In no way am I hating on the people, just the headcanons.

Okay yeah, I just realized I spent an entire hour of my life writing this and that’s an hour of my life I can never get back…

Also if I offended you, I don’t actually feel bad because I'm allowed to have opinions and so are you. By voicing your opinions you’re opening yourself up to criticism because not everyone agrees. And I know that, that’s why this is all in a first person perspective, these are my opinions and feel free to disagree all you want. I just don’t really care if you disagree lol

Anyway thanks for reading.

[princessofgotham777]

Dating Jason Todd (Part Two)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Although I’ve had tumblr for a bit I’m not really used to posting stuff so sorry if I don’t format everything well. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️)

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. The beginning takes place when Jason is still Robin but he’s no longer apart of the titans. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad)

Part Two: Fear and Love

You stood in Dick’s bedroom as he packed. “You can’t just leave me here,” you said.

“I have to go find Jason and you can’t come with me,” he says.

“You know I can help.”

“I also know joker is after you, if you came to Gotham we’d be giving joker exactly what he wants,” Dick says. “Come on I’ve gotta wake up the others before I leave to let them know Jason’s off to get himself killed.”

“Dick!” You say. He looks at you with that cold glare you’re oh so familiar with. “You need to promise me something,” you say seriously.

“I’m listening,” Dick says.

“And you can’t tell anyone I’m asking you to do this, especially not Jason,” you say. You and Dick were inches apart now, making eye contact so intense you could feel a shift in the energy of the room.

“What is it Y/N,” Dick says softly.

“I need you to protect Jason,” you begin saying.

“Y/N, you know him he’s impulsive and if he wants to do something nobody can-“ you cut him off.

Teary eyed you say, “I know, but if anything happens to him I won’t forgive myself…and I won’t forgive you. Just promise me you’ll do your best.”

“I promise Y/N” Dick says. His voice is cold yet soft, almost like he wants to say more but is stopping himself.

Dick woke everyone up and told the team Jason had gone to Gotham.

“Idiot,” Kori said.

“Literally took the words out of my mouth but unfortunately he’s my problem,” Dick glances at you, “Our problem.”

“Should anyone go with you?” Gar asks.

“No, I want you guys to stick together,” he says to Kori, Gar and Rachel. “And keep an eye on Y/N.” Dick adds.

That sentence pissed you off. He starts to leave and as he walks past you say, “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” This was one of the times Dick realized why you got along with Jason so well. Dick leaves and you immediately head for Jason’s room.

You start searching for any note he might’ve left you. After you look in his room you go tear apart your own trying to find any message or hint Jason left you. Ten minutes later you find a folded piece of notebook paper under your pink baseball cap that says “Chicago”. Jason had bought the hat for you after you found out he was Robin.

Y/N, I’m sorry for leaving you alone but right now you being as far away from me and Gotham is the safest thing for you. Stay at the tower, even though it pains me to say it, I know Dick will keep you safe, and hell if he fails then pretty sure our friends with sunlight, darkness and animal transforming powers will be enough to protect you. Don’t come looking for me, I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I’ll be back in no time.

With love -Jay

You called Jason…he didn’t answer. You called Dick…he answered.

“What’s up,” Dick said.

“I will stay at the tower on one condition,” you say.

“Let’s hear it,” Dick says.

“Call me with updates and if anything drastic happens don’t wait till everything’s fine to tell me, I don’t care if it’s bad news or good news I just can’t be in the dark,” you say.

“Of course,” Dick says.

It had been three hours, no calls from Dick, radio silence from Jason, Barbra had no news, even Alfred knew nothing. You had exhausted everyone you possibly could have asked when suddenly you remembered one more person. Jason’s best friend, not you, not Gar, Roy Harper. You didn’t have his number but you had his girlfriend Thea’s. Thea Queen also known as a close friend of yours who happens to be the sister of Oliver Queen, the arrow.

“Thea hey I’m kinda having a crisis,” you say.

“Oh? What’s going on?” She said with a mixture of valley girl and New York accent.

“Jokers been leaving threats against Jason and I around Gotham and he’s gone without me and nobody can find him…so I was wondering if Roy has heard anything?” You asked.

“Oh my god, I have no idea but here I’ll put him on the phone,” she said.

“Hello?” Roy says.

“Hey do you know Jason’s missing?” You say.

“I do now, what’s going on?” He says.

“Jokers been leaving notes around Gotham threatening Jason and I, Jason left last night to go by himself even though him and Dick were meant to go together. He doesn’t have a tracker but we’re positive he’s gone to Gotham to try and find joker alone.” “So he’s not called you or anything?”

“Wow…no this is the first I’m hearing any of this, so where are you now?” Roy asks.

“Titans tower in San Francisco,” you say.

“Okay I will try to get ahold of Jason and actually if he has the wallet I gave him there’s actually a tracker in there…I didn’t know it was there when I gave it to him, courtesy of Oliver’s failed attempt at tracking me but I’ll try to see if I can find him.”

“Okay thank you so much, call me back as soon as you can,” you say. Twenty minutes pass and you hear a knock on the door. You open it to see Rachel with a plate of food.

“Can I come in?” She asks.

“Course yeah,” you say.

“So how are you doing…sorry that’s a stupid question” Rachel says.

“No it’s okay, I’m doing umm…I mean I’ve been better,” you laugh nervously. “I just wish he accepted Dick’s help and didn’t go off by himself.”

“Yeah,” she says to let you know she’s listening.

“And I understand why he did it you know it’s not because he’s got anything against Dick or Bruce or titans despite what everyone thinks, he just wants to be good enough. I wish he understood getting help and working with others doesn’t mean you’re weak and incapable.” You say. Just as Rachel’s about to say something your phone rings. It’s Dick.

“What’s happened?” You say quickly.

“The cops are all here, we’re at that abandoned amusement park near the pier. Jason’s not here but we think he was. There’s blood, it’s not a concerning amount…we’re sending it over to the lab. We pretty much know it was him though cause said blood is on playing cards,” Dick says.

“Shit,” you say. “Okay wait so I called Roy and he said there’s a tracker in Jason’s wallet so if it’s on him and it still works he’s gonna call me,” you say.

“Okay call me when-“ Dick gets cut off when Roy calls you. You pick up quickly.

“The wallets at some random street in Gotham…” when Roy gives you the street name you immediately recognize it as where Poison Ivy kidnapped you a couple years ago.

“Okay thank you I’m gonna call Dick,” you say. You call Dick and put him on speaker.

“The wallets at 345 Ribbon St,” you say.

“We’re on our way,” Dick says.

I hope you guys liked part two🫡🩷 Please like the fic if you enjoyed it and want to see more cause I’ve got a whole storyline and backstory and many more ideas and want to know people are enjoying my writing.

Here’s my Masterlist so you can read the other parts.

Masterlist

[coffeeviolinist]

Y’know I was staying silent about this before but I’m just going to come out now and say it: the way Azusa is written these days makes it really, REALLY hard to like her.

And that sucks because I used to love her when she was just a fun background character working a minimum wage job who happened to pop up every once in a while. Unfortunately, that isn’t how she’s being written these days.

Sure, she’s still sweet and all. But a big part of her character these days is being Amuro’s not-girlfriend - or, more specifically, how she always has to act all bothered about the fact that people keep shipping her with him. She even said, and this is a direct quote, “if someone like me was seen with Amuro-san, it would be hot gossip all over the internet”.

For one, I find it hard to buy that because a potential relationship between two waiters of all people being gossiped about “all over the internet” is just not something that happens no matter how attractive one of them is. Most people have better things to worry about than whether the people serving them their coffee are dating each other - yes, even high school girls.

For another, and this is really the crux of the matter, if Azusa is actually as bothered as she says about the possibility that people would see her with Amuro and jump to conclusions about them…well, you’d think she would also recognize that there’s an obvious solution, right? All she has to do is not go out in public with Amuro, and she won’t be inadvertently fueling any potential rumors. Problem solved!

Except, well, for all her talk about how she doesn’t want to be shipped with Amuro and how much it bothers her that everyone is supposedly gossiping about her online, Azusa has still gone out alone with Amuro in public multiple times. At this point, it’s honestly starting to make her look like a pick me. She’s starting to feel like one of those girls who talk about how “gross” it is that they keep getting shipped with their guy friend but actually not-so-secretly really, really want everyone to assume they’re dating.

Of course, the Doylist explanation for all of this is that Gosho is just using Azusa as a mouthpiece for a cheap ship bait joke. The problem is that (at least from what it seems) he’s approaching this entirely from a Doylist perspective and isn’t considering how it actually looks from a Watsonian perspective.

It’s probably also his inability to write women coming through yet again. Like yes, of course women and girls are all a bunch of catty bullies who go around saying horrible things about other women on social media for no reason other than the fact that these women have attractive coworkers. It’s not like women have better things to worry about, no, our only concern is competing with each other for male attention 💕. Our one and only goal in life is to be someone’s wife 💕💕💕.

Just. Ugh. Azusa is a perfect example of why some background characters should just stay background characters, especially since Gosho can’t write women for shit.

[katyspersonal]

There are plenty of evidences for many of these 🤔 Messmer IS a Demigod, not Demigod-adjascent like Godfrey or GEQ whatever, so it's fair to assume he was born after her ascension! And Radagon is a byproduct of her ascension! He also has red hair..

At the same time, Rykard is blond whereas being specifically Radagon's son, so Messmer could have had red locks without Radagon participating... Marika's alters genes are just odd! Meanwhile, Messmer's soldiers use the same stomp and roar attacks associated with Godfrey and he has Knights using Crucible Aspects which, again, links to Godfrey's Knights. A talisman depicting Godfrey is also found in Shadow's Keep! Messmer was certainly a product of the time before Radagon became relevant the way he is later 🤔 However, we're discussing biological parenting, Godfrey could've still been just a father figure But what Messmer and Godfrey REALLY share in common is having no ass gfgfhfjj

But the source of red locks to begin with is ALSO the curse of Fire Giants, even with Radagon, and Messmer is connected to it on multiple points! His flames curse his Fire Knights with red hair (with only Queelign being spared... so far) same as how Fire Monks and Arghanthy got red locks from Flame of Ruin, his Furnace Golems feature visage of Fell God by version of Hornsent and function on burnt sacrifices similarly to how Fire Giant summons Fell God by burning part of his body, and like Fell God Messmer is deformed and one-eyed!

The thing about Messmer though is:

If he was born with a single cursed eye that prevented Grace residing in him, that might have made him vulnerable for the powers that exist outside of Golden Light associated with Greater Will! Greater Will has a lightness Abyss at the center of itself (check Ymir's hat), and Base Serpent comes from lightless Abyss too! Messmer could've been born without the one thing preventing Base Serpent from manifesting. @sermessmer also has an interpretation that Greater Will itself had Marika birth Messmer as Base Serpent because it craved to remove the "bad" aspects of existence that contradict life and light and hoped Marika as new God could figure how to get rid of Base Serpent and I think this works too!

Then there is also the fact that Empyreans have genderbents installed (or have androgynous bodies like Malenia or Ranni), so there could've been gay sex with Gloam-Eyed Queen that did result in birth! Melina is somehow connected with GEQ's Destined Death and said to bear visions of fire like Messmer, and GEQ is connected with snakes as evidenced by Godskin Nobles having snake tail and Apostles having weapon with serpentine motif! Snake was also viewed as traitor of the Erdtree since Godfrey's Duelists, so, after war on Fire Giants but before Messmer was banished, so maybe the Snake traitor refers to Marika's conflict with GEQ?

And there is also an option that Messmer was not born Demigod but promoted to such by virtue of relation? The "Rune of Life" that is now Marika's has been the part of Elden Ring ever since Ancient Dragons, LONG before her ascension, she simply made it her symbol when she became a God! Maybe something fell on Messmer too by that effect, only, it was the power that opposes Grace's for some reason?

(I personally feel like it is a combination of things: Marika gets cursed during war with Fire Giants but it transmits to Radagon as manifestation of her order, that results in Messmer being born cursed but Godfrey was his bio father and assumed he got cucked at first gfhgj, being born without Grace results in Base Serpent torturing him)

[damthosefandoms]

ELABORATE ON UR SODA POST i love hearing ppl talk about him

(this is about this post which flopped for NO REASON btw it was really funny you guys are just mean)

So basically what it all boils down to is less about the joke of “Soda’s a virgin” and more about the fact I have this idea in my head that he tells Darry everything (which I touched on a little in that one fic I wrote that I’m shamelessly plugging here) and he lies his ass off to everybody else so that he can fit in. because idk, he’s a teenage boy. there’s a lot of toxic masculinity going on in this story lol.

Why do I think this? oh, you know. lines like “Soda smokes only to steady his nerves or when he wants to look tough.” Like how he smokes when he goes to try to talk to Pony about Sandy.

The thing is, even Pony points it out in a very roundabout way; I know Pony is an unreliable narrator, but Darry then admits to not realizing how upset Soda was, so it’s really intriguing to me that Pony implies that he thinks if something was up with Soda that Darry would know, because Darry is Soda’s big brother and he’s going to his big brother for advice about this kind of thing. unless there’s been a lot of other stuff going on at the same time to talk about first. Which leads me into this:

“Why didn’t he tell you? I didn’t think he’d tell Steve or Two-Bit, but I thought he told you everything.”

Of course Darry thinks that Soda tells Pony everything, because he’s Soda’s confidant, you know? Soda tells him everything and has probably mentioned wanting to open up to Pony too but that he has trouble with it. And, I mean. “Soda’s a virgin” LOOK.

Steve—and presumably Two-Bit because he’s in the room here—are under the impression that Sandy’s baby is Soda’s. Soda blushing and looking down isn’t embarrassment because “he got a girl pregnant” it’s because he knows he’s lied to his friends and now the story is spreading to Ponyboy and he’s ashamed of lying to Ponyboy because he wants to be honest with him, but he has trouble doing that and he can’t tell Pony the truth with everyone around anyway.

But Darry changes the subject. Calls Soda by that nickname. Because he knows.

And then let’s talk about the line there where Pony says Soda “was no innocent.” That Soda brags with the guys all the time about what he’s done with girls but never about Sandy! Sandy, the first girl Soda’s ever fallen in love with! The first girl he’s ever been serious about! But we know when Soda is around the guys that he’ll do things he doesn’t normally do, like smoke. Darry doesn’t think he’d tell Steve or Two-Bit that he’s not the father. But why would Soda be so shy about it to the guys if he brags about girls all the time? Unless he’s full of shit and never did most of the stuff he bragged about?

And. “He told me he loved her, but I guess she didn’t love him like he thought she did, because it wasn’t him.”

Here’s my theory: there weren’t really paternity tests back in the day, and if there were tests, I mean—you can’t really do that until the baby’s born, you know? And even if you could do you really think Soda or Sandy are gonna have money to figure it out?

How would they possibly know for sure that Soda wasn’t the father? The only way you could know he’s not is if he wasn’t sleeping with her.

“Don’t tell Darry, but I think I’m gonna marry her. After she gets out of school and I get a better job and everything.”

“She didn’t love him like he thought she did.”

“He wanted to marry her but she just left.”

think about how they live in a bible belt state and the time period and the fact that we know the Curtis family went to church once upon a time and how maybe the boys wouldn’t be religious enough to have it affect their views on a lot of things but there’s some… more specific values their parents might to try to get them to stick to considering how they ended up where they did and try to tell me I’m wrong.

Soda wanted to wait for marriage and Sandy… didn’t.

[thehivemindsys]

Waylon Park Headcanons

Hiii outlast tumblr. I really adore you guys and I kinda wanted to yap about my interpretations of the characters. So here goes.

TW for sexual assault, sexual harrassment, rape, canontypical violence…all the normal outlast stuff.

-Waylon is for sure autistic. His hyperfixation is coding and finds a lot of comfort in learning how to speak computer languages-though this comfort is ultimately turned against him when he starts working for Murkoff. He’s damn good at what he does, and Jeremy uses this fact to force Waylon into running the Engine at a perfect capacity.

-Waylon is riddled with the guilt of what he’s done for Murkoff. He feels extremely complicit in Murkoff’s activities even if he is the one who eventually brought upon their downfall. He had to stand by and keep their secret for quite a while, which is why he feels that way.

-Jeremy had suspected that Waylon may try and sabatoge the operation even before he was caught red-handed. In order to circumvent this, he was given a residency in the asylum where he was forced to work from. He basically wasn’t allowed to leave without Jeremy’s explicit permission. You can bet Jeremy took advantage of that.

-Waylon is a very empathetic person. He hates seeing people in pain, and even has empathy for those who have gone out of their way to bring harm to him. He is a naturally altruistic person-but if pushed hard enough, he can become cold and sardonic.

-Waylon is a big literature fan-he reads as often as he can. Canonically Waylon makes mention to the French folktale, Bluebeard, so it can be assumed that dark fantasy is one of his favorite genres.

-Waylon has a love for baking, specifically baking cookies. Cookies are somewhat of a comfort food for him, considering his grandmother raised him, and she was a bit of a baker herself. He bakes to keep her memory alive.

-Waylon may be nerdy, but he is very in touch with his feminine side. Though he mostly only does this in private, he sometimes will wear a skirt and long socks-it is purely a thing he wishes to enjoy in the privacy of his own home, because he fears what others will say. If Waylon was forced into a dress by Eddie, he wouldn’t be happy.

-Waylon is transmasc. The reason he is not affected by the Walrider’s “phantom pregnancies” is because he was sterilized after giving birth to his second child. It was a decision he made after the financial strain of two children on his family became a problem. Lisa, in tandem, is transfem, making them T4T parents.

-The issue is, that his status as a transmasc was often exploited by the men in the asylum-most notably Jeremy Blaire, who used him for sex against his will, and Eddie Gluskin, who assaulted him during their encounter. Waylon also likely endured sexual harrassment from other men who worked for Murkoff, considering he is somewhat small and weak compared to most of the other workers there.

-Waylon’s build is thin and lanky, mostly. His limbs are awkwardly longer in comparison to his torso. He has a bit of a hunched-over posture, and gets bad acne when he’s distressed.

-Waylon for sure is a Reddit user.

-Waylon loves video games, especially deconstructing their code. One of Waylon’s favorite pastimes is seeing how much he can corrupt the code of a video game until it no longer works.

[misterxsamsa]

I really like everything OP said here, and I'm adding on my own thoughts, because I love this little freak, and I've gotten very inspired by everything this person said. [ADDENDUM: Okay, OP got upset at me in the replies over this one, so I'll just clarify that not everything I say is a direct reflection of what they think, or what their post is trying to convey. I'd normally just trust that you guys would be able to see that with your eyes, and understand that I like showing off anything people have to say about Jimmy, regardless of what that is, but they have spoken.] [It sucks, because I was following them, and I genuinely did really like their post, there's no one concrete Jimmy interpretation to me, and I love hearing people's thoughts, but I guess not everyone's on my wavelength about that kinda stuff. Whoops!] I've always seen him as being predisposed to dark thoughts, violent tendencies, and sexual predation, not only because of trauma we're not privy to, but because he has a craving for control and power.

We know that before encountering Johnny he was relatively passive, even non-confrontational despite the ridicule he'd get from others. All of the anger he felt was kept internal, since he was too cowardly to act upon anything. However, Johnny and his violence towards others gave him the image of this perfect power fantasy, since he's everything that Jimmy wishes he could have for himself: respect, dominance, a brooding image. That's all just fantasy, but Johnny's a real guy, so seeing him partaking in all that made it look attainable to Jimmy, hence the instant obsession.

You can see how this makes them different as killers, since they're fundamentally driven by different things. Johnny kills for a variety of reasons, ranging from anger to sexual gratification, but it can come down to simple boredom and uncontrollable compulsion for him too. However, Jimmy's only driven by power and control. Yes, he thrives off attention from others, but he's looking for a specific kind of attention that allows him to feel power and control, and he gets that from hurting others, and being the scary killer-dude on the news and whatnot, basically rising above his station as the awkward, lanky goth kid that nobody liked in high-school.

As for his obsession with Johnny, I think the basis on which that's founded upon is deeply interesting. Yes, he's projecting all of his hopes and dreams onto this stranger, but he's really not wrong about them being similar. I think what makes Johnny such a cathartic image for Jimmy is that he's everything that he wishes he could be, while having all of his same flaws. They're both self-indulgent, self-pitying, probably depressed, and consumed by misanthropy. I think the fact that they share all the same shortcomings allows Jimmy to romanticize those parts of himself, rather than confronting those things for what they really are.

I think at his core, Jimmy's probably consumed by a lot of repressed self-hatred, considering the fact that he's vacated his own identity in its entirety, in favor of LARPing as somebody else. Through Johnny, not only is he trying to find the friendship and companionship he's severely lacking, but he's hoping somebody else can see something worthwhile inside of him. He doesn't even seem angry, nor does he fight back when he realizes Johnny's going to kill him, he just looks very sad and scared. Look at that face! Mind you, he's huge compared to Johnny, and probably stronger, so if Devi succesfully kicked Johnny's ass I'm sure Jimmy could have done the same. However, his positive feelings towards Johnny are very genuine, even if they're founded on a dysfunctional basis.

However, as OP noted, there are a lot of ways that Johnny and Jimmy are extremely different, and most interestingly, despite all of his immaturity there are things Jimmy has over Johnny. Particularly, he takes himself a lot less seriously, and doesn't need to find as many justifications and ego barriers for his actions, as he thrives purely off of villainizing himself for the power and control that gives. He's able to see that Johnny is a violent asshole wallowing in his own self-induced misery, and while he phrases it in a very half-formed, juvenile, Jimmy-esque way it's a true observation nonetheless. I see Jimmy as being a very direct and honest person, though that's probably less through virtue, and more just out of a tendency to report on himself due to a lack of social awareness. However, he likes Johnny anyways, there are an infinite amount of layers to the dynamics between these two, it makes me insane.

Here's something I never hear talked about in relation to these two though, and that's the fact that Jimmy has been stalking Johnny for literal years. He says that he started in what would chronologically fall in Issue #1, since he saw him mass-murdering at the Taco Hell. Well, we know that Issue #1 takes place two years before Issue #2 at minimum because Psychodoughboy forms two years before Mr. Eff according to the Director's Cut biographies. It's implied that the rest of the issues occur over a much smaller timeframe, nevertheless, it's safe to assume that Jimmy's been watching him for a long time. I wonder what he thought of Devi, seeing her escape...

Honestly, I could go on about this guy forever, but he's got so many facets for what amounts to a one-off strawman character. He's incredibly socially unaware and oblivious to that fact, yet he's able to succesfully speak in the same flowery prose as Johnny, and accurately point out his flaws, and craft his own weapons, and get away with murder without any of the supernatural aid that Johnny receives, and that's so so interesting!

My views on this 👇 weird gross freak

I’m just gonna blabber on. Also I’m like reallyyy bad at explaining things and using my words, so if you see anything where you’re like “?” You can just ask and I’ll explain. I know I’m nonsensical but that’s part of the fun. Decoding sacred writings that are actually just a shopping list. ANYWAYS.

I think he does have similarities to Johnny, but what they have different is so different that it entirely negates the similarities. They’re very different individuals. Jimmy in my views, is someone who very much wants friendship. Connection to others, he yearns for it. It’s his main motivator. He cares so much about what others think of him, and wants all the attention. Most things he does I believe are for the attention of others. However there’s obviously some wrong shit in his head. Very wrong shit. These things make him turn to violence and other disgusting things, he’s infatuated with them, and by extension, those who commit said acts. Really their only similarities are violence, and seclusion. But Jimmy is excluded by force, he doesn’t want to be, he wants to be apart of everything

So he sees Johnny, and projects his own shit onto him. So he kinda views Johnny the way a sad internet teen views their comfort character. He also sees Johnny as a way out, a way out of his seclusion. He thinks they’ll relate to eachother and be best friends, obviously that’s not how it goes. But he looked up to Johnny, and genuinely truly thought they were the same. Seeing him as a role model who would help him, someone who would view himself the way he views Johnny. He thought they were on the same page when they were not. Instead of being viewed as something relatable and in need of help that Johnny could give, he was viewed as a delusional idiotic pest and a disgusting creature. Their motivations are entirely different is what I’m trying to say I suppose

I believe Jimmy doesn’t realize how crazy he is bc people just can’t tolerate his presence. So he doesn’t know what’s normal since he’s never been around normal for long. I also think he finds a lot of things boring, except for violence, because violence can be whatever you want it to be. Something funny, something sexual, something artsy, whatever. It can be an outlet for whatever you want. So I think that’s why he was drawn to that instead of other outlets, also because of a natural anger and frustration upon being treated differently and exiled from society. It’s a process with multiple steps 1) he’s already prone to violent thoughts like some people are 2) he uses violence to cope with feelings of isolation and his anger towards those who caused that for him 3) it becomes a “cure all” for all his feelings. And of course, violence expands to other things. Like sexual violence (to be clear, I don’t think Jimmy is a good guy. I just like thinking too hard about characters that has 3 pages worth of content)

I see Jimmy as the kind of guy to join internet groups and forums, searching for community, only for him to get banned and hated on. This is due to him not knowing how to behave correctly, and not really caring to know. He views this as people hating him for being different and hating him just as a person. When no dude, you say edgy fucked up shit and see no issues with it. I think all his violence and behavior and yearning is all subconscious btw. I don’t think he knows why he acts the way he does, he just sees it as who he is, which is why he takes rejection so hard. He doesn’t realize change is an option and he doesn’t even know what to change, as he doesn’t know what’s him, and whats a wayward response to his emotions.

He joins these communities, acts how he does, gets banned, and never reflects on himself. Because that’s hard to do, and I assume he’d be like this for awhile, so it would turn more into a fucked up routine of his. He’s trapped in it. I think when it comes to him in the…idk goth community, how he has the name “Darkness” and dresses like that, I think this is just another attempt of his to find community. But it doesn’t work bc I don’t think he’d care much about it. I think he was drawn to it bc ooo edgy and all, and he sees them talking about death and all that, and he misunderstands it all. He thinks people genuinely are as violent as he is, so he takes all talks of death and edgy whatevers entirely seriously, while for others it’s more of a poetic and aesthetic thing. He doesn’t understand why death obsessed goths aren’t out killing people themselves. I think he chose the name Darkness bc it sounded like other names in the community and no one he knew had taken it yet. Also bc he’s like “ohhh I’m so dark and evilll”. He didn’t put much thought into it, because he doesn’t care much for the community, and the reason he doesn’t care is bc he doesn’t understand why they say things he thinks but are nothing like him. Like I just said for them it’s poetry and something interesting and different, but for him that’s his normal. I worded this as best as I could it still don’t make sense. I need a whiteboard

He’d view himself as evil bc he is naturally inclined to awful and dark things and he doesn’t know why. I believe though it’s a mix of nature and nurture

TLDR…Jimmy is predisposed to dark thoughts and violent urges, and him being isolated due to not knowing how to act right makes his dark shit get worse and worse since his views on what’s normal keep getting foggier and foggier. And he projects onto Johnny, someone who’s also violent and isolated, and takes comfort in his imagined version of him. Only to die realizing the one person he could find company in and get help from and understanding from, hated him just as much as anyone else. No one’s reading all this shit bro wtf am I DOINGGG.

This is very messy and general. I’m kinda just talking to myself here so that I can further investigate these thoughts deeper. Also I like yammering

[dykedvonte]

Honestly I see Jimmy's refusal to put Curly out of his misery less about his weird feelings of envy or his delusions but the fact Curly is all but stated to be a shield to Jimmy from his actions and people seeing the worst in him.

The only characters that Jimmy really interacts with one on one before the crash are Curly and Anya, two individuals he has wildly different relationships with. It's likely that Curly really did most of the talking between them as the pilots and the rest of the crew as staff. They didn't know of Jimmy's more reprehensible behaviors cause they never really had the chance to and Jimmy is subconsciously aware. If they had disliked him more than Anya would have told Swansea earlier or even Daisuke when things got really bad.

It's why he takes the immediate opportunity to blame Curly; He's the shield. He's saved Jimmy's ass more times than he can count and more times than Jimmy would ever admit. Even when he can't really do it anymore, he mentally shields himself from his own faults by putting Curly between them. Letting Curly die puts too much on him because he doesn't know how to function without a safety net.

In the end Curly only lives because Jimmy needs the idea that Curly will inevitably make things better to stay alive, meaning Curly has to live, no matter how much it pains him to do so.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I think it's clear Lion Guy has climbed AT LEAST to the top #2 on your fav twst characters list..... but do you think he'll ever surpass J word?? lately you've been rambling a lot abt Leona but tbh it's obvious you rlly rlly love Jade too from all the posts I've read abt your feelings towards him (which have helped me understand and appreciate him more, too!)

sorry if it's smth weird to ask btw, I know feelings/thoughts abt fictional characters sometimes can be pretty personal- so feel free to ignore this 🙇

For your reference, here is my personal Twst tier list ^^ It’s up to date as of the recent book 7 part 12 update. (And to be clear, the characters placed in the same tier are in no particular order; just because Silver is first in the "tolerate" tier doesn't mean I like him any more or less than Deuce, who is next in the row.)

If you’d like more specifics on why I do or don’t like a particular character, please check out my FAQ in the pinned post or look at #character opinion bingo. If the character you’d like me to elaborate on isn’t addressed there, then you may send in an ask about it.

Please remember to be respectful when discussing character preferences; do not attempt to convince others to change their minds or imply/tell them that they are “wrong” for feeling a certain way about a character.

I don’t mind the question! This blog’s a place for me to express myself (whether creatively or critically/more analytically) and to share my opinions on certain aspects of Twst ^^

I don't really think to put specific numbers on characters most of the time because I personally get really anxious about rankings 🤡 According to the same friends that said all of this though, they basically agree that L*ona is pretty much second place or that L*ona has already surpassed J word. A particular friend likes to joke that “it’s Leover”, and another one says, “it’s like Raven divorced J word for L*ona”. And honestly 💦💦 if I'm being 100% truthful, I'm a little scared myself that some cat boy I disliked back in 2020 will shoot right up to the very top 💀 When I think about that... OOooOoOooooOOOGH, IT REALLY GRINDS MY GEARS BECAUSE HE'D BE SO ANNOYING AND SMUG ABOUT WINNING FOR ONCE. Finally clawing his way up from rock bottom... past second place (where he was perpetually trapped for most of his life; second place to his older brother, second place to that lizard, second place to eel)... to snatch the crown from the jaws of defeat... 💢 (You can't see it, but I'm pounding the wall with my fists--)

BUT IT'S OKAY, IT'S OKAY GUYS (<- huffing copium) IT'S JUST THE CONTENT RELEASE BIAS... Like, L*ona has gotten SO much more focus recently that it might be a little unfair to compare the two right now??? He got that Nightmare Suit SSR and played an important role in the Halloween event, then immediately got his time to shine in his book 7 dream, on top of us being forced to go through all five Heartslabyul dreams with him. That's not even mentioning the fact that the Episode of Savanaclaw manga is hyping us up for his OB reveal in January, or his hometown event rerun that's currently going on in the JP server. I keep telling myself that as soon as J word gets a new exciting SSR or story content that I'll swing right back around to him 😭 He hasn't gotten anything substantial lately... And let's be honest here, L*ona has a complete advantage no matter what the situation is for J word simply because L*ona is a dorm leader and an OB boy. There will always be more attention and detail showered upon him and his development over J word's OTL There's just... more L*ona lore to chew on. The other part of it is a large chunk of what I discuss on this blog comes from interactions with my readers. If readers submit more asks about L*ona, then I'll naturally talk about him more. Pair this with the guarantee that he's getting more screen time because of the remaining Heartslabyul dreams, and it becomes constant lion reinforcement.

sdfhladiyofyfaey8gFP9MGEEGA ANyWAY, sorry if that didn't quite answer your question... I didn't want to give a definitive response because I can't really tell what will happen in the future but hey, you guys wouldn't think any less of me if something happens, right 🤡

[moeblob]

son boy raccoon trash can man suffering in a dnd au as a cleric bc his warlock will not stop committing murders and he has to keep coming up with reasons murder is valid to convince the gm its fine and under control

[shidoukanae]

Hello to the Buddyfight fandom it's been a hot minute but god do i miss this show and have been making fanart for it in the background so i thought i'd post to tumblr too ^^

I swear every year I end up coming back to this show and wishing that it kept going, that it got rebooted, that i could just erase my memories of this show and just watch it all over again from the beginning to enjoy everything once again from Tasuku's own sense of justice twisting against him to Gao's suffering of PTSD and how heartfelt it was handled.

There's something very special about this show that I haven't been able to find replicated elsewhere. It has the most perfect world to exist (so much so that i'd love to be isekai'd into it if i could!!!) and while i have my own gripes with it (hi S3+) i honestly sometimes wish i could go back to my high school years of watching this show just to relive it all again :'D

Anyways!!! I hope there's still people out there who enjoy this show even ten years later who'll like seeing new funny artwork for it!

I wanna add too that i'm hoping to create a rewrite of FCBF (ft. seasons 1-3 + Ace) or at least create more artwork for my interpretation of it and its world!

Because, sincerely, this show is one of the few that, for all its flaws, hasn't disappointed me in the years that've followed unlike many other things i've seen and i wanna try to keep the spirit of it alive while I can thanks to that. And if there are any fans still in existence who love it, i wanna provide some food while its once again in my orbit because damn do i adore this show <3 <3 <#

[princessofgotham777]

Dating Jason Todd (Part Five)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Although I’ve had tumblr for a bit I’m not really used to posting stuff so sorry if I don’t format everything well. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️)

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad), talking about intimacy (not graphic), struggling with eating, topics of grief

Part five: Dead?

You think you’re in shock. Maybe you’re so in shock you don’t even know you are. Dick said Barbra was going to deal with things back in Gotham so him, Kori and Rachel could come home. He told everyone he wants the team to be together but you know he really just wants to keep an eye on you. They should be back any minute since it’s been about three hours since you got the phone call; the call that told you the love of your life is dead. You and Gar sit on the couch side by side both quietly staring off into space. The elevator door opens and Dick, Kori and Rachel walk in. Rachel walks over to you and Gar, she pulls you both into a hug, Kori joins in and Dick simply stands to the side.

You get sick of the awkward conversation and long periods of silence. “Can I talk to you?” You ask Dick. He nods and you head into your old room.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I know,” you reply. “I’m going to Gotham.”

“Y/N, it’s not safe,” he says.

“You can’t stop me Dick, if you want you can come with but I’m going to Gotham…I want to see him,” you say softly.

“Fine, but no running off and what I say goes,” he says.

“Yes to the first one but I’m not a titan anymore I don’t take orders from you,” you say.

“Sorry…” he says. You begin to throw things into a leather backpack when he says, “you’ll always be a titan to me.” You look into his eyes and see so much sorrow. You don’t have the energy nor motive to attempt to unpack what he’s said. All you want is Jason, and now you’ll never see him again.

“Come on,” you say as you put on Jason’s leather jacket and your pink Chicago hat. Dick follows you out of the room and down the halls to where the titans are.

“Going somewhere?” Rachel says.

“Yeah, Y/N and I are going back to Gotham,” Dick says.

“What?” Gar says.

“What about the threats?” Kori says.

“Jokers the least of my problems right now, Jason’s dead…I need to be there,” you say.

“You’re okay with this Dick?” Gar asks.

“No but that’s why I’m going,” he says.

The car ride is filled with awkward silence. You guys are about an hour into the drive when Dick finally says something. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise,” he says.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you answer quickly.

“I just need you to know I tried, I swept every room in Arkham myself,” he says.

“I know, Rachel told me,” you say. You notice he’s about to continue the conversation so you say, “I forgive you, I know that’s all you care about so I forgive you.”

“Hey, that’s not all I care about” He says.

“It wasn’t your fault, and besides it’s not about you,” you say.

“It’s not about me? What does that mean?” He says.

“Nothing just, you always do this Dick,” you say.

“Do what?” He asks.

“You always make it about yourself and your redemption, you did it on the roof top and you’re doing it right now and I just can’t deal with it, not today,” you say.

“Wait the rooftop-“ he starts to say before you cut him off.

“Not today Dick!” You say with anger. “Please,” you say softly. The rest of the car ride is fairly quiet except the typical arguing about if the gps is correct.

You and Dick get to GCPD to find Barbra speaking with a man in a lab coat.

“Dick?” She says. “I was just about to call you.”

“Barbra you remember Y/N,” Dick says.

“Right, hi,” she says sounding off. “Um something’s happened,” she says.

“Course more bad news, first can we see the body?” Dick asks.

“Fucks sake it’s not “the body” it’s Jason,” you mumble.

“Yeah so that’s the thing, it’s not Jason,” Barbra says.

“What?” You say.

“What do you mean it’s not Jason?” Dick asks.

“He was so beaten he was only recognizable by the Robin suit, we tested his DNA cause it’s part of procedure and the body in the morgue is not Jason Todd,” Barbra says.

“So Jason could still be alive somewhere?” You ask.

“Hypothetically yeah,” Barbra says.

I hope you liked the fic if you did please like, I really appreciate any positive feedback. It’s nice to know people enjoy my writing and it encourages me to keep writing and posting. I have a lot of ideas to develop the red hood story line and also I have backstory ideas for how the reader meets Jason and Dick and becomes a titan. Sorry this one is so short my mom is in the hospital that’s why. I did the whole Jason’s alive thing because I thought I killed him off a bit too suddenly, I’m trying to sort of merge the plots of under the red hood, death in the family and Arkham knight in regards to how he dies. Anyways I hope you are enjoying this series🩷

Also here’s my Masterlist incase you haven’t read the other parts.

Masterlist