#i cannot explain it words are beyond me today

[pangzi]

When Peem notices someone is feeling a little vulnerable or fragile and his voice goes all soft and warm and gentle...

[split-spectrum]

Concessions

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: (more to come) sexually explicit content, explicit language, edging, orgasm denial (like a lot of it - that's the whole fic)

Chapter Length: 3K

Description: Obi Wan chooses to undertake a trial that prevents him from sex for one year, and asks you to serve as his witness. As his close friend, you don't mind helping him.

The rules of the trial are very clear. You make it your personal mission to find the exceptions.

☆☆☆

"They call it the Nikkama."

"A full cycle?"

He pauses, taking in your incredulous tone. "Yes. A full Coruscant cycle."

"And you're asking me to... what, participate?" 

He shakes his head. "Of course not. This is simply a... personal matter for me."

You raise a brow even higher than it already was, not saying anything in response. He seems to be on the edge of an explanation, but never quite getting there. Your silence invites him to continue. 

"By the end of a standard year, it is my goal to come away with a new understanding of the Force, and of myself."

"That's very... respectable," you manage. "So, if you need someone as the keeper of this... trial, why not ask a master? Why me?"

His eyes search your face. He's trying to determine if you're toying with him. The truth is, you have an idea of why he wouldn't approach Yoda about this, but you want to hear him say it. 

"I had... rather thought it would be obvious."

So you had guessed correctly. But he won't admit it. 

You smirk; an acquiescence. You won't make him dance around the details any longer. You are friends, after all. Friends who happen to know one another more intimately than most friends do - the real reason he's come to you with this request. 

"Alright. Tell me the rules."

--

No sex. That's the essence of it. 'Seeking bliss through denial', as the ancient Jedi texts stated it. To complete the trial, one must deny themselves the pleasures of the flesh for the time it takes the Jedi temple to finish one full cycle. 

The rules are quite simple: The Jedi must make the trial known to one witness - the keeper. The Jedi can not bring themselves to completion through sex or by any other means. There are allowances, of course. Orgasms beyond the Jedi's control are permitted. This way, one cannot fail the trial while sleeping. Finally, the Jedi must not speak of the trial with anyone aside from the keeper. Like many other trials, it was a battle meant to be fought internally.

If he failed, Obi Wan had explained to you that he could not simply begin again. One was not allowed to attempt the Nikkama for ten more cycles. It was not meant to be taken lightly. Much like everything Obi Wan has ever done, but especially like the things he's been doing lately. 

Since becoming master of the Chosen One, it seems like all he's done is push himself, as if trying to prove he's worthy of the position. Having known him since padawanhood, his capability has always been clear to you. But with his new responsibilities, he seems to be seeking new and creative ways to strain himself. You know nothing you say will be enough to slow him down, so most of the time, you can only offer your begrudging support. 

Three months in to this latest self-imposed trial, you can already tell the strain is starting to wear on him. 

"Anakin, I've told you before," his voice carries over the crowd of padawans on the landing platform as you walk past. "The way we present ourselves is a choice."

"Yes, master," mumbles the boy in front of him, his eyes clearly more focused on the ship he's about to board than his master's words. 

"...and today you've chosen to present yourself to professor Huyang with a wrinkled robe because you did not hang it properly as I asked, did you?"

"Sorry, master." Anakin's words are contrite, but the way he shrugs Obi Wan's arm off his shoulder says this will not be the last conversation they have about it. 

Obi Wan looks around, clearly asking the Force for patience. He squeezes a blink just a little longer than normal, gathering himself, and when he opens his eyes, he catches you watching the display. You press your upper lip down into a poorly-hidden grin and keep walking, using the mug of caf you'd retrieved from the refectory in the temple's main hall to hide your smile.

Once Anakin is sent on his way with the other padawans, Obi Wan strides down the hall to match your pace.

"I saw that," he grouses. He's putting on a half-joking tone, but you can tell there's a current of real irritation running beneath. "You won't find it quite so entertaining when you have a padawan of your own."

You let your grin loose. "That's the beauty of volunteering for the most distant and dangerous missions. They can't keep me at the temple long enough to assign me one."

It's an exaggeration you're putting on for him, but it's partially true - you do tend to volunteer for the most exciting assignments you can find. That's where you and Obi Wan differ the most. Part of you craves adventure in a way that's almost unbecoming of a Jedi. Obi Wan starkly contrasts your eagerness, content with whatever duties he's given. He always has the serene air of a proper Jedi knight about him. And you truly enjoy pushing his buttons until his calm demeanor breaks. 

"You look like you could use one of these," you tell him, changing the subject by pointing to the mug in your hand. 

He looks down at your hand, then glances dejectedly out of one of the windows as you pass it. "Oh, I could use something much stronger than that. If only I had the time. I promised Master Sinube I would help him question some suspects for an investigation this afternoon."

You click your tongue against your teeth. "Poor thing."

"Yes, no rest for the wicked, it seems."

"More like 'no rest for the stubborn'." 

He gives you a look. 

"No rest for the decidedly overbooked," you go on, pushing those lovely buttons of his. 

He sighs, shaking his head in annoyed bemusement and not rising to your bait. 

You turn to face him before your path peels away, dropping your antagonizing grin. "If you're too busy this afternoon, what about this evening? We could meet up in my quarters for 'something stronger' if you'd like. I have a bottle of Alderaanian red that's been gathering dust."

"Hm. Dusty wine; how very tempting," he sniffs, crossing his arms at you. 

You roll your eyes, but he doesn't give you a chance to retort. 

"It's a kind offer, but-"

"But, Anakin is gone for the week and you'd rather be alone in your quarters, falling asleep early?"

"Well, yes, in fact, I would."

You shrug. "Do as you please, then. My charitable offer stands, if you decide you'd rather enjoy yourself than become a hermit at the ripe age of twenty-seven."

You turn down an adjacent hallway, leaving his mood behind you without another thought. 

--

Later that night - very much later, in fact - you had almost forgotten about your offer when a knock at the door to your private quarters reminds you. 

"Obi Wan."

You won't spoil the surprise by gloating, though you sorely want to. You just smile instead, glad to see him despite his dour expression. 

His lifts his eyes tiredly. "Might I request that you hold off on any clever commentary until I have my promised drink?"

Your grin broadens as you step to the side, inviting him in. "You might request it, but my cleverness won't be silenced." 

Passing you, he manages to flick up an eyebrow despite his otherwise muted demeanor. "Oh, dear. If I had known you'd started without me, I'd have-"

"You'd have come sooner?" you finish for him, sweeping up the bottle on your counter and topping off your glass. 

He drapes himself over your couch, sinking into the cushions as he spreads an arm over the side. 

"I may not have come at all. I would have gone to my quarters and gotten some well-deserved-" You hand him a filled glass. "Thank you. Some well-deserved rest." 

He finishes his statement with a long sip, then swirls the glass and closes his eyes, pinching his brow with his other hand. 

You just roll your eyes, nudging his boots to the side and sinking into the couch next to him. "Master Sinube really putting you through your paces, then?"

He sighs through his nose. "Master Sinube is a wonderful teacher in the art of... patience."

Your lip quirks upward. His patience has never been tested before by the kindly old Cosian. And it's rather odd for Obi Wan to admit it. You consider pointing it out, but seeing him so worn out by the experience dampens your desire to wind him up. You turn on the holovid screen instead. 

"After a few more glasses of this, trust me, you'll feel better."

--

When you awaken, you feel something soft and warm beneath your face. It's the cloth of Obi Wan's tunic. 

Your head is buzzing faintly as you press your nose into the fabric, breathing him in. You only marginally care that what you're doing is inappropriate. It's been a long time since you've been this close, and you can blame the drinks if you really must.

You swallow, blinking slowly as you register that the room is filled with the sound of some holodrama you've never watched before. The music is swelling, and you reach over Obi Wan's chest to press the volume button on the remote. His head turns, following your movement though he's still half-asleep. 

You feel his breathing pattern change below your cheek, and you look up at him. His long eyelashes part slowly. His body shifts so that he's facing you, though he removes the arm that had fallen to your shoulder. He puts a hand on the back of the couch. 

And he looks at you.

The moment where he should have moved away - where one of you should have - comes and goes.

You lift your face, staring at his lips. You know you're caught in his gaze. He's watching you, not saying a word. 

The idea of leaning up to press your lips onto his is so far removed from your mind that it's basically an impossibility. You aren't padawans stealing moments in the temple anymore. Your heart doesn't pound with the fear that you'll give into your baser instincts. You're fully aware of what you're enjoying - the look in his eyes; the space between your mouths. Holding your faces so close that it's almost another kind of kiss. 

Then you shift your hips, just slightly, and you feel it. You feel the way his clothes pull tight at his center. Your leg brushes the taught line of fabric just below his stomach, running up his thigh. 

Considering his circumstances, it's a normal reaction. You tell yourself this as you feel a blush spreading over your face and down your neck. It's a physical response to repressing his body's urges. You try not to take it personally. You won't mention it. 

You blink, lowering your gaze from his and starting to extricate yourself from his side. He swallows, pulling away from you.

"I'm sorry-" His voice is throaty and a bit slurred. "I-"

The inner side of your hip brushes against him as you turn to get up, and a soft, almost dejected moan pours out of him. He snaps his mouth shut. You freeze, looking up at him.

That noise will not be so easy to avoid taking personally.

Suddenly he's sitting up. "Terribly sorry, I- I don't know what came- came over- "

You force a smile, though your heart is racing, and you pat his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Only nine more months to go, right?"

A slight look of relief passes over his wide eyes. "Yes," he agrees, clearly grateful you've decided to blame the trial and not him. "Yes. Quite right. My apologies."

When Obi Wan finishes his many further apologies and excuses himself, leaving you alone in your quarters, you are grateful for one thing: As you lie back in your bed, imagining the way his hips had twitched at the slightest brush, you thank the stars that the Nikkama doesn't go both ways. 

--

You'd had your fun. 

That's what you keep reminding yourself. When you have to keep your eyes from lingering a little too long during a shared smile. When your heart kicks up a little faster anytime you see that he's returned safely from some far-off world. When you kiss someone else and it doesn't feel the same. 

The Jedi are not forbidden from physical pleasures. There's no reason not indulge in sex, so long as attachment isn't involved. But when you'd both realized as padawans that kissing and touching was swiftly turning into longing and wondering, you'd agreed it was for the best not to continue. 

That conversation was so long ago, and the boy who'd made that promise was so far removed from the man who was currently pinning you down on the training room floor. 

"Yield," he pants, teeth glistening in the fading sunlight. His breath is hot, and you're swallowing it with gasps of your own. 

You flex your thighs, using the Force to lift both of you off of the ground. "Not until you've beaten me."

Huffing an exasperated laugh, he looks over your head in disbelief. Then he tightens his grip on the hand that holds your lightsaber and feels where your thumb is located. He stills. You're holding the empty hilt against his side, and your thumb is just below the pressure sensor. You grin, open-mouthed, sweaty, and undefeated. 

"In a non-lethal match, I have indeed beaten you."

You're just about to reply when he crushes your wrist in his palm, wrenching it upward and holding both of your arms harmlessly above your head. You yelp in surprise and no small amount of pain as he presses the weight of his body onto you, holding himself up by pinning you down. 

"But just for good measure - there," he says, digging his knees onto either side of your hips to hold you still. "Now yield."

You struggle against him, but it's like trying to break out of a durasteel cage. Then you catch sight of a dewy patch of golden skin and make a move that neither of you are expecting. 

Your teeth sink into his neck before you can catch the impulse, and the muscles there vibrate when he gasps in shock. He releases your hands, but catches them again quickly. His face is suddenly flushed when he pulls away.

"There can be some honor in defeat, you know," he scowls down at you. 

You smirk, pleased at getting a rise out of him. "A Jedi doesn't accept defeat with any reasonable chance at victory."

You lift your hips again, this time sending a concentrated pulse through the Force to try and wriggle out from under him. He holds you steady and you rock to one side, attempting to flip him off and reverse your positions, but to no avail. You take a few deep breaths, then try rolling your hips one last time. 

"Stop that."

His tone snaps you out of your concentration. You look up to see him glaring down at you, looking unsteady for the first time in your match. You hesitate, then decide to take the opportunity he's giving and make the same move again. You grind your body against him and watch as his eyes widen. He releases your wrists and rolls off of you, standing up. 

"I yield."

His turns his back on you, stalking over to where you've left your water canteens, and takes a long drink. 

You lie there a moment in stunned silence, then shake it off and stand up, following him. "Are you... okay? What was that?"

"It's nothing," he snips back immediately.

Then you see his shoulders soften and he turns to face you. "Forgive me. I'm not... feeling very well."

He gives you a forced smile, then reaches to pick up his robe from the floor. "Perhaps we could continue this later?"

You shrug, at a loss. "Sure."

"Very well," he answers, heading for the doorway. "Thank you."

You frown, his sudden formality making you uneasy. "Obi Wan... did I do something wrong?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I just need to get some rest."

You take a beat before pressing him again. "I'm sorry about the bite."

He sighs. "There's no need to apologize. The fault is mine. Perhaps... it would just be best if we hold off any sparring sessions for the time being."

"Oh?" you ask quietly. "For how long?"

"Just... just for now."

You furrow your brow. Then it clicks. "Until the end of the Nikkama?"

He looks caught-out, sending his gaze past you.

Of course. It's been six months, now. He hasn't mentioned it, but you might have known by his mood.

Now you're the one struggling to make eye contact. You pick up your own canteen, drinking, then wiping your mouth. 

"Is it that bad?" you finally ask.

He lets out a soft laugh. "Well, it's not meant to be easy."

There's a long, unbroken silence as you wonder how to approach this. Or whether to approach it, at all. 

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head. "It's simply a matter of discipline. There isn't much to talk about."

"Well," you tell him slowly, carefully. "I've read the texts. And I want you to know that if you need... help, getting through to the end, I'm here for you."

His face drops. "What does that mean?"

You take a step closer, your heart pounding as you try to put the words together. "The trial has rules against you seeking pleasure. But, everyone has needs. And if you aren't seeking it... if it- it just happens..."

He looks down at the space between your bodies, and it's like you can see every thought running through his head. He doesn't answer for a very long time. 

"Anything that were to happen," he says in a low tone, nearly a whisper. "Would need to be without my request."

Your breath is shortening with every word he says. "You asked me to help you with this," you reply. "And we are friends, are we not?"

He nods. "Of course."

"Then if you need it, let me help you."

Your hand tingles as you reach out to touch his side. He gently takes your hand and lowers it, almost grazing between his legs, and holds you there just a moment too long. 

Your fingers lift from his hand to unclasp his belt, but he pulls you back. 

"No," he says, swallowing and letting out a few slightly labored breaths. "No, I wouldn't- No."

You wait for an explanation, but he doesn't finish his thought.

"Well, as long as you know the offer stands," you tell him, straightening up. "If you change your mind..."

"I won't," he cuts you off. "There is no- no need."

Smiling for his benefit, you nod. "Of course. My mistake."

You can feel his gaze follow you as you bend over to pick up your own robe and brush past him out the door. 

In any other situation, Obi Wan would hold his own in a debate. He's quite well known for having opinions that aren't easily swayed.

In this matter, against your better judgment, you find yourself wondering if you might be the exception. 

--

A/N: I'm planning for this to be a short multi-chapter, maybe 3-5. Completely self-induglent. I want this man to be edged within an inch of his life. I want him whimpering, your honor.

On a side note, forgive me for this interruption in posting Water and Rock! It's been challenging because I've needed to basically write the full ending before I can be sure the plot/pacing is right for this chapter. It will be up soon, promise! In the meantime I've been using this side fic as a bit of a creative outlet lol.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged for this fic, feel free to comment or message me. :)

[farahtissaiamyloves]

Hi. Could you please write Lady Lesso x (student)reader(She's 18)?

It's Lesso's birthday, but she doesn't really like it and she's in a bad mood. Reader somehow finds out that today is Lesso's birthday and decides to surprise her, because she has a crush on her. She prepared a gift and a firecracker with confetti and glitter, taking it all with her to class, so she can surprise her right after class. But the firecracker goes off too early and showers Lesso with confetti and glitter, she gets angry, thinking it's some sort of prank. Of course, Lesso decides to send reader to the doom room, and reader somehow have to explain to her that it wasn't a prank and all.

Surprise gone wrong?

Lady Lesso x reader

I'm sorry for not updating for a long time. I finally found time to write again so here we go. This amazing request was waiting for me for a long time, and I finally seized the opportunity and wrote it. Sorry, for the long wait. Hope you are all doing great!

Ps: it's my name day!!!!

You were at your final year at the school for evil.

You never meant to overhear the Dean of Good talking with one of her colleagues.

Students were forbidden to be walking around the lake at such a late hour, yet here you were studying and mostly admiring all the different stars and magnificent constellations.

You hid and held your breath. The last thing you wanted was to gain detention.

But then again...

Detention with Lady Lesso wasn't such a bad idea...

"You see, Anemone, Lesso's birthday is coming up, and we happen to have already arranged our monthly meeting that day." Dovey spoke with a highly annoyed tone.

Your eyes widened as you processed the newfound information. When?

"Really? Oh dear, she will be more than a handful..." Came Anemone's reply as you continued spying on them with sparkling eyes.

So, Lady Lesso's, your crush's birthday was coming up. You could surprise her! Show her how much you value all her hard work and determination.

You silently squeeled, already thinking of all the ways you could make her day.

"I know! Right? We won't have any work done because of that whining.... vixen." You raised an eyebrow at Dovey's failing attempt to curse your Dean.

You heard Anemone sigh. "And when will we waste our entire day?" Anemone asked, referring to when the meeting will take place.

"Next Thursday. I simply cannot wait!" The good Dean spoke sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes at the way they were referring to Lady Lesso, but deep down, you were feeling beyond happy. You couldn't wait for next Thursday.

꧁☾︎❥︎☽︎꧂

The day has finally come. You couldn't put your excitement into words. It was the day you were looking forward to since you overheard Dovey.

You were beaming awaiting for the class with Lady Lesso to come.

When the time was right, you went into the classroom a quarter earlier to do the needed preparations.

You knew that Lady Lesso always came from ten to five minutes beforehand to stare daggers at everyone who came into the classroom.

The firecracker was set and ready, and you had your gift inside your backpack. Your plan was to surprise her first, wish her happy birthday, and then pull out her gift to show her.

You couldn't wait to give her your gift, you were a little nervous but you were confident that she was going to like it.

You heard her heels clicking against the floor and giggled in excitedly. You couldn't wait for your little surprise to unfold.

You stood next to the firecracker, which meant to shower the ground in front of her with pink glitter and black confetti.

Lady Lesso marched inside the room at a faster pace than the one you anticipated. Your eyes widened as you were unable to stop the firecracker before being activated.

You stood and watched in horror as the Dean of Evil was showered from head yo tow with your glitter and confetti.

"Surprise." You spoke in shock as you were gazing at her.

The Dean had the exact position and grimace of a cat being thrown water.

She slowly opened her eyes, looked down at her ruined clothes, and up to you.

"What's the meaning of this?" She snapped at you.

You gulped as you noticed her state. "I- I am sorry. I didn't-" You started apologizing.

"Save it." She cut you off and grabbed your arm.

Your eyes widened as the Dean dragged you out of the classroom.

"La- lady Lesso. I can explain." You trembled.

Instead of answering, she pushed you in front of her violently and grabbed your arm again, leading you to the Doom Room.

"Everything but this place. Please." You begged, feeling really scared. You just meant to surprise her.

You briefly looked up at her only to see her furious face. Why was she so angry with you? Couldn't she clean her clothes with magic?

She pushed the door open and pulled you inside. You fell to the ground due to the force and turned to look at her with pleading eyes.

Lesso returned your gaze with an angry and cold one. "Forget class. You shall wait here for me for your proper punishment."

Lesso shut the door and locked it behind her.

You shakily got up and walked to the chair. You sat down and started crying. This was supposed to be a happy day. Couldn't she just use her mind and understand that the confetti was for her birthday?

You sighed as you were left alone with your thoughts. You were disappointed in yourself for ruining such a well-planned surprise and sad because instead of making her feel happy and appreciated, she was feeling furious and sad.

You cried a little bit, realizing that you won't get to give her your gift... All of those hours of preparing the surprise and searching the perfect gift were in vain.

Not just in vain, but they'll probably get you tortured well. You didn't want to be tortured, not for something that you didn't deserve, at least.

You didn't notice the door opened until a cold voice was heard. "Such a polite girl.... She's even trying to make her torture enjoyable.... for me." Lesso's words were accompanied by a chuckle. You knew she was referring to the fact that you were seated on the chair.

You immediately got up and took a deep breath. "I had no ill intentions." You declared.

Lady Lesso smirked, closing the door behind her and walking inside the room. "Oh, I'm sure you don't.... Nobody has in here." She mocked you.

You swallowed hard. Of course, everybody would lie to get themselves out of here. "I'm not everything, Lady Lesso. I never caused trouble in the past. Why would I do it now?" You inquired in a desperate attempt to prove your innocence.

The dean chuckled coldly as she stood in front of her torturing equipment. "There's always a first time for everything, little brat."

You took a deep, shaky breath. Your hands had become sweaty, and your eyes teary. "Can I, at least,... try to explain myself?" You hesitantly asked.

The Dean took a big whip from her collection and sighed. "If you stop acting like a little baby, afterward, then I guess you can certainly.... try to change my mind."

You nodded shakily as she turned around and showed you the whip. "I- I learned that today was your birthday, and I meant to surprise you. The firecracker never meant to wash you with either glitter or confetti. It just meant to surprise you." You explained.

Lesso raised a single perfect eyebrow. "And supposing my birthday was today... How did you learn about that?" She voice a very smart and calculated question.

You bited your lip. You were just going to make your torture worst, perfect. "I was just studying some astrology a week ago, at the lake, when I overheard Professor Dovey and Professor Anemone talking about a meeting happening at your birthday. I wish to reveal no more."

Lady Lesso thought about what you just told her. In was in fact true that there was both a meeting today and her birthday. She also knew that students weren't informed about those kinds of events...

The Dean looked down at the whip, then back to you. "Why the firecracker, then?"

You scratched your head. "That's what they do on birthdays."

Lesso sighed, turning around to put the whip back to its place. She didn't know whether she was disappointed for not conducting the torture or relieved because her favorite student didn't mean to stab her in the back.

"Such a cruel way to torment someone." The woman commented with gritted teeth.

"It didn't mean to fire on you, but in front of you. I'm deeply sorry, Lady Lesso. I never meant to make you furious." You apologized.

The Dean turned to look at you, only with her can in her hands. She sighed. "You did not mean ill, in the end. I'm glad."

You titled your head. "You are?"

Lady Lesso approached you with a sad small. She patted your head and then caressed it. "I am.... You didn't have to make such a big deal out of it, though."

You smiled, looking up at her. You didn't pull away from her grip. "Why not? It's your special day! You should enjoy it!"

Lesso shook her head and sighed. "No, no, I shouldn't. And you shouldn't either. Where's the good with completing another lonely, annoying, and boring year of your life?"

You pouted at her. "Don't say that, Lady Lesso, you have me."

The woman chuckled, patting your head. "That's not what I meant, and you know that."

You swallowed hard. Here goes nothing. "I. I know what you meant." You spoke, biting your lower lip.

Leonora's eyes widened as she looked down on you. Her piercing gaze remained on you as she processed your words. "No." She whispered.

You hesitantly nodded. "Yes."

The Dean took her eyes away from you before returning back to you pretty quickly. "You are lying."

You shook your head. "I had gotten you a gift, too. It's in my bag."

The Dean's eyes widened. "A gift!?"

You nodded. "Yes, if you want it. I think you will like it." You spoke with a smile.

Leonora Lesso was speechless. Firstly, her student admitted on liking her, and now this very same student has bought her a gift.

The Dean bited the inside of her cheek. "How much did it cost?" She meant to repay you.

You shook your head. "It's a gift for now, and it shall remain like one."

The Dean cursed. "What is it?"

You smirked at her and shrugged. "Only one way to find out, professor."

The Dean gave you a stern glance. "Why are you doing this? What do you wish in return?"

You looked up at her smiling. "Making you feel appreciated and cared for."

Leonora's eyes widened in shock. For the first time in a long while, she was truly speechless. She didn't know what she awaited you to say, but definitely not this. Not this, and definitely not with such happiness.

You stood up, standing in front of her. "Wanna open your gift?"

The woman looked at you for a second before blinking to bring herself back to reality.

"I- I guess." The Dean surrendered without a fight.

Nobody had ever gotten her a gift without waiting for something in exchange, and it made her feel... warm.

You walked outside of the room with the woman behind you. You led her to her classroom before taking your bag and opening it.

You pulled out a black box with a golden ribbon.

"Happy birthday, Lady Lesso." You said enthusiastically, handing her her present.

The Dean took the box and examined it. It was a pretty box in nice colors. Lady Lesso hummed, feeling pleased with the box as she slowly pulled it open.

Her eyes widened when she saw the matching cravat and gloves with the color of the box and ribbon.

The Dean touched them both in awe. They were so beautiful and precisely her style.

"So.... Do you like it?" You asked, examining her reaction.

Leonora looked up at you with a genuine smile. Her eyes were teary as she wanted to cry due to your thoughtful action. "I do. I guess a thank you is necessary."

You smiled back at her. It was the first time you saw her so happy. "You are very welcome, Lady Lesso."

The woman nodded and took a glove in her hands, and she caressed it, enjoying the feeling of leather against her fingers. "Call me Leonora when nobody is around."

Your eyes sparkled. Really? She liked it that much. It was your lucky day! Maybe you even stood a chance with her in the future.

The Dean glanced at you. "I believe this is the beginning of something wonderful."

[hopefull-mindset]

A Much Needed Overview

I’ve been brought to a point of feeling the need to discuss the abuse depicted in Bungou Stray Dogs. This isn’t the brightest topic to speak about and I understand why people are reluctant to speak in detail about something as serious as this. It’s not easy, so I’ll be the brave face today because I feel disappointed about the lack of deep discussion beyond the popular topic of “The Abuse Cycle”.

I’m happy that it’s at least brought up amongst everyone as something that exists, I’m happy that people feel as though it’s something to talk about, but I don’t think most understand how to act about it. It’s never as cut and dry as how it’s depicted in most other pieces of media or how people speak about it in general. That is why I am thankful for its depiction here. Not saying that nobody speaks about it with clarity, but it’s not the majority, unfortunately.

I especially felt this was a good time to address this because of the reaction towards Asagiri’s thoughts on Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship in the recent magazine interview. The outrage is not from nowhere, I was also taken aback at first, but to claim Asagiri “doesn’t even know his own story” is incredibly self-entitled considering the story isn’t done, nor are you the one writing this. If you read the story, no way is Asagiri justifying anything that happened. Please look at the question that is being asked, does it say “Do you think what Dazai did is morally right?” Of course, it isn’t.

Not to be rude but before you start questioning the writer himself if he’s read his own story, have you read it? Please keep in mind the fact this is only a magazine interview and doesn't reflect every nuance. Asagiri doesn't need to go “Oh yeah, this thing that’s bad is bad” every two seconds to explain himself. Asagiri’s writing decisions can be questionable and cannot be uncritiqued, but I’m going to have to defend him on this account.

I’m not sure if any warnings are needed concerning the subject matter considering most BSD fans know what I’m about to go over, but to be clear, please only read this when you’re in a well enough headspace for heavy matters such as this. I am not going to be talking lightly in any of this or dance around what’s happened between any of the characters, abuse is harder to talk about compared to other acts of violence that are objectively worse because it’s a more personal act that too many can find themselves in.

Finally, I do not want to speak about my own experiences online because I’ve only come to terms recently with it and they do not reflect everyone’s response to depictions of abuse in all media. Some things are very uncomfortable to admit about me that I haven’t told anyone, that no one would be able to take well even if they were my closest friend. This isn’t about me at all and there is no point in saying more about my reality, but I think my perspective might help people enlighten themselves on how truly complicated situations like this are.

What is Abuse?

Surprise, we need to go over this before any discussion about BSD happens because a lot misunderstand what abuse is. It's disheartening that the term has been so simplified that nobody knows what it means anymore. Don't substitute words for abuse or use abuse as a substitute for other terms. Abuse as a concept is quite hard to pin down with words and there are many ways to describe it, but by definition in the context that it’s directed to another person, abuse is:

To target and mistreat someone, causing them harm or distress in a repetitive manner

This by itself does not describe the grand scope of everything and probably might make you more confused, but it’s a great place to start and does describe what is directed to the victim. Many sources will use varied wording, but it’s the general knowledge that someone is being hurt to a fundamental level that makes it abuse.

Does the abuser need to intentionally hurt someone for it to be abused? Yes, but not in the way you think. Most abusers are not hurting their victims for the sake of just hurting them, that’s illogical, they’re doing it for something. Some examples include either for themselves in some way or what they think is for their victim’s “own benefit”. Even worse is when they genuinely believe it because they’ve also grown up in an environment that has that same mentality and reflects on themselves.

So yes, it’s intentional in that they’re doing it for a purpose. No matter their intention though, “selfless” or not, it’s still a selfish act in itself that they think that imposing their own will through harmful methods is what the victim needs. The abuse doesn’t need to be physically harming another for it to be abuse. As long as it’s harming you emotionally or otherwise and making you raise flags in your head, it’s abuse.

It sounds strange, but I'm saying it’s intentional because you’re still an intended target of their abuse whether they realize it themself or not. Abuse needs to repeat a form of distress in you to be abuse. For example, does one instance of physical violence against you count as abuse when it never happens again? Well, you need to think about the context. Usually, this would just be assault and that’s it, but is it left hanging in the air to happen again when you interact with them? Do you feel afraid for your well-being, even though it doesn’t happen again?

That’s still abuse, the psychological kind. Typically when abusers resort to physical means, it’s gonna happen again eventually. In this hypothetical instance, however, the point is that repeated distress does not mean repeated actions. It does not need to happen the same way for you to feel unsafe, it just needs to have power over you. Manipulation does not always equal abuse either. It’s a tactic used by abusers, but unless paired up with other actions, it doesn’t fit the criteria of abuse. Context matters when you examine what abuse is.

Here comes the tricky parts that are acknowledged less: When the abuser is someone you’ve relied on in your childhood, in a detrimental part of your life, or someone you care about that you put importance in, and it makes it hard to fully hate that person. What the abuser has done to the victim does not entirely reflect them as people, even if it’s still an important part of them that needs to be addressed.

Abusive people are not only defined by their awful actions, they’re not pure monsters like most love to pretend they are. It’s just easier to think that because accepting that they’re just a multifaceted human being hurts too much when you’re on the receiving end of their worse behavior. But what happens when you’re on the receiving end of both? You try to justify it the way the abuser is because you can’t accept that what’s happening is bad and not something everyone goes through. After all, they treat you decent enough sometimes.

Something so many people need to get into their heads already is that abusers can be victims and vice versa, but just because your abuser went through something themselves or is important to you, doesn’t mean you have to forgive them. Abuse is not forgivable just like that, you can rebuild a relationship beyond that if you’re able to, It’s not a “forgive-and-forget” thing.

Not everyone experiences and responds to abuse the same way, some hate their abusers fully, some can’t bring themselves to, and some don’t even know what to think, but there are so many who don’t feel one way that regarding all abusers as heartless monsters completely invalidates so many stories and their difficult experiences. I have a huge grudge against people like this who restrict abusive situations to just looking like one thing, this is why so many don’t even know that their situations are abusive.

Portrait of a Father

Chapter 39 reflects my points the most, and at the same time, it also turns out to be one of the most controversial chapters. It surprised me that it is, but maybe I shouldn’t be considering how most people on the internet act about abuse. It’s a lovely chapter to me personally and one of my favorites.

If you need a refresher, this is the chapter the Orphanage Director died in and leaves Atsushi in an emotional frenzy about what to think and believe. I know that the underlying message of this chapter is confusing to some, but it hit me in the face point blank on how this is about facing your abuser’s death without any personal conclusion with them.

Being sent on an investigation, Atsushi, after finding out the body was the Director, is stunned and scared because he knows nothing of the director other than his cruelty. He immediately assumes the worst and that he was coming after him again. Atsushi’s thoughts against him are entirely… on purpose in the director’s intentions because we find out that he has gone through so much violence and loss himself that he’s projecting his own will onto Atsushi and making sure he’d “survive in the real world”. So he became his first figure of hate and violence earlier in his life so he’d be “prepared for what comes next”.

I know so many take the backstory for the director as a way to justify what he did to Atsushi in the narrative, but it was just to put into context why he was so cruel. Abusers are never cruel for no reason, that never makes it right, but it’s reality. Atsushi was not the only one in the orphanage who was treated badly, he was singled out by the director most likely for an ability he couldn't control because the headmaster knew he’d get the most trouble for it, and unfortunately… he was right.

Akutagawa being his informant in this chapter makes perfect sense. He can see that what the director was for Atsushi is what Dazai is for him. No matter how terrible their actions were, it’s what kept them alive for so long. It’s not pleasant to confront, is it? Atsushi agrees because when he gets the information that the Director was going to congratulate him with the flowers he was going to buy by selling the gun he had on him, he freaks out. No way the guy he was raised so long to hate, the guy who put him through so much suffering, was going to congratulate him.

I know to some, Dazai’s talk with Atsushi sounded like he was justifying what happened because “it made him a good person in the end”, but that’s not what’s being said. This conclusion I’ve seen some people come to about this conversation confuses me. Dazai is just saying the obvious, you guys get all shocked and it weirds me out how easily it’s been glossed over that the reason Atsushi is so self-sacrificial and trying to do the good thing is because of the director. The reason he puts himself so much on the front lines is because he needs that worth in being good to live and prove the director wrong, he was raised to see that type of person is the most ideal person to live in this world.

After everything that’s been dumped onto him in such a short time, so much inner conflict of what to think of a dead man he no longer can have any personal closure with, he asks Dazai what face he should make, what he should think at this moment. Dazai tells him that they’re his emotions and he can think however he’d like, but commonly someone cries when their father dies. So he cries, because ultimately no matter his treatment, no matter the intent and its effects, it’s still the man who raised him. It’s flawed, but that’s what a father is stripped bare at its core definition and that won’t change no matter your feelings.

Now that I’m done summarizing this chapter and making sure you guys understood the point and how it spells out their relationship, I can finally talk freely about what was happening between them. When it comes to familial abuse, generational trauma is so prevalent it’s hard not to talk about. The director is quite reflective of so many parents who were raised to grow up too early in harsh environments, that they think they need to prepare their children for it too, even though it’s no longer needed.

You don’t need to like someone for them to be important to you, especially if it’s a parent in your life or someone close to that. That’s why Atsushi cries. He cries for the director, he cries for himself, he cries that it’s finally over, he cries for the kindness he could’ve gotten even if it wouldn’t have fixed anything, he cries for the father that never was, he cries because his father is dead. It’s perfectly normal to keep someone close in your heart that wasn’t perfect and to grieve their death.

Was the director successful in what he was aiming for? I want to say no, but he did. He succeeded in making Atsushi think of others in a good light and do good for them, making Atsushi resent him, and giving him the ability to keep going. Hell raised him right, but it was still hell. The problem is that his teachings were based on degrading Atsushi into being nothing but a life he should put aside in favor of others. Even if he continued hating the director like he wanted, he would still degrade himself for being a coward who didn’t hold himself to those standards. The result is not perfect because the director is not perfect, but in his position, this is a success.

The director for a while was his shadow of negative encouragement when he joined the agency, what kept him going in those moments, because he was what defined good, bad, and justice for him in his entire childhood. Even if he was dead, he’d still linger in his mind. I can’t parse out what to think about these hallucinations forming Akutagawa and Dazai to guide him later on, all it tells me is that he still can’t rely on or trust himself and he needs more development in his self-image issues.

I see why fans are confused, hell raising us right is a bizarre thing to say to a victim, so let me show you a perspective you're not seeing. Let's imagine you have an abusive mother who only wants you to be prepared for the things you're undoubtedly going to experience because of what you can't control. What she did does help you, but all that goes through your head is “Why couldn't she have done it differently without my own suffering?” The only thoughts that come rushing back when you think of those memories are the unnecessary pains. It takes a lot for a victim to acknowledge this on their own, they want to push back at the past so they don't have to see this plain reality.

Like anyone else that I’m going to bring up in this post, just because the abuse made them who they are or affected who they became, even when it keeps us going through life and benefits us in some way, does not make the abuse justified. Abuse is still abuse, I addressed this already and I hope not to address this again. I needed to detail an explanation because it’s quite easy to hate a man you know nothing about and has been painted in nothing but a bad light. The anger against the director is undebatable because abuse is not debatable, but to pretend the cruelty was nothing but for cruelty’s sake is mischaracterizing both him and Atsushi.

You can’t pick and choose what’s been told to you in the text just because you don’t like a character and lack the maturity for it. It gets quite hard to do that sort of thing when it’s a character you‘ve grown to care about, it’s no wonder Dazai is divided between so many. Speaking of Dazai, his involvement in this makes as much sense as Akutagawa’s. He’s currently in a mentor position for Atsushi, no matter what Akutagawa says, and shows interest in his development. So of course he’s going to purposely stick his head into something that would affect Atsushi greatly. Both Akutagawa and Dazai are viewing this through their lenses as people who grew up in the darkness of society, and it’s not that Dazai thinks what happened to him wasn’t terrible, you should have eyes to read the panels provided, but he’s generally unfazed and able to sound neutral because he’s used to that cruelty.

The Port Mafia’s Environment

(Aka: is it really “all Mori’s fault” or is it just the product of being literally in The Mafia™?)

I’ll go over the “Cycle of Abuse” in a second, but please keep in mind that you can’t just blame everything on Mori. Just like the Director, it’s so easy to pin the guy who’s just been the worst for every problem there, but it decimates the other characters involved as well and makes what they’ve gone through go flat because you’re restricting it to a misinformed presumption.

To make a bold statement, I need you to completely throw away your idea of what the abuse cycle is. The Mori to Kyouka pipeline being the singular “Abuse Cycle”? Garbage, needs to go away too. I've seen many fans use the term “Cycle of Abuse” too carelessly, and while from afar the way they're using it is not technically wrong, they have the wrong thought process behind it.

The Cycle of Abuse is simply the patterns of what keeps us in an abusive dynamic and negative mental state, either with an individual or environment, and makes it incredibly hard for anyone to leave. It’s not the actions you take that make it the Cycle of Abuse, and it's not just one straight line of people going through similar motions. You don’t have to be someone’s abuser to be the one who keeps them there, if you feed into it you’re still a problem. Even if you don't actively add to it yourself, just staying there as a bystander and not trying to do anything to change it or speak up for the victim when you clearly could also still make you responsible. Just with your presence, it validates what they've gone through as normal.

If you need more of an explanation, two opposite examples include Higuchi & Akutagawa and Beast Kyouka & Atsushi. Higuchi is a traditional example in that she stays in the mafia because of her relationship with Akutagawa, and stays by his side for reasons unknown. What we do know is that she’s incredibly indebted to him enough to care for him to an extreme extent, but their relationship is abusive all the same. Beast Atsushi and Kyouka sounds strange for me to bring up, but this is an example of a non-abusive person contributing to the Cycle of Abuse. Instead of taking her out of an abusive situation, he brings her back in.

Many characters are a part of this main narrative of abuse in BSD, so it's not inaccurate to say Mori, Dazai, Akutagawa, and Kyouka are a part of it as well using this definition as all of them are the reason or contributed to why someone was stuck in a negative, abusive situation or the victim themselves. I’m guessing none of you are genuinely referring to this though and are referring to intergenerational abuse, a repeating cycle of younger generations taking after their abusers when they're older, which is a completely different phenomenon. Both are referred to as cycles and have many commonalities, but it’s not the same. Not to sound like a total dick, but this barely even applies to them.

Not because the concept is based on familial relationships, it can happen with older figures in your life too, but because our oh-so-famous Abuse Cycle gang does not have that commonality to make that claim. They have narrative parallels, but that’s pretty much it. I will save what I have to say in their sections, but Mori and Akutagawa did not abuse Dazai and Kyouka respectively for this type of claim to have any legitimacy. Kyouka certainly broke a cycle, but not that kind since that would need her to continue it in the first place and then prevent her own experiences from even affecting the next child.

What do all Mori, Dazai, Akutagawa, and Kyouka actually have in common? They are/were in the mafia, using their natural talents of cruelty for the underworld.

The Port Mafia resembles something of an abusive household or community that sees so much of what’s done to others there as normal, and constantly compares it to how it was with their old boss and thinks, “At least it wasn’t as bad as that.” It’s quite like the Orphanage Director’s thinking but on a larger scale. Does that make everyone in the Port Mafia abused? Nope, unlike most abusive communities, the Port Mafia is quite literally the mafia. Everyone is there for different reasons, at different ages, and different experiences. Everyone is taken advantage of in these situations, no matter the circumstances, but it doesn’t make them abused automatically.

So it’s hard to have a stance on anything about them being abusive other than the mentor situations in the Port Mafia don’t see abuse as abuse and just another way to teach their subordinates to survive in their world if they deem it necessary. Was Chuuya abused, either by Mori or Kouyou then? I’m going to have to say I can’t tell you that. We don’t have enough information on either of his dynamics with them to say that they’ve directly had any repetitive behaviors of direct harm against him specifically, and there's no reason for them to do so either. I’m not going to use the argument that “Chuuya doesn’t hate or fear them, so that must mean he wasn’t” because again, that type of response does not reflect so many situations.

Chuuya was still harmed by being in the Port Mafia as a teenager because nobody should have been surrounded by this much cruelty at that age. It doesn’t matter if he shows visible distress or not about the Port Mafia, he was just desensitized to it since his sheep days. So was he an abuse victim under the idea that being a child in the Port Mafia is abuse? That depends on who we’re speaking of, but in Chuuya’s situation, I'm going to have to say no as he's already internalized their mindset from his own experiences separate from the mafia. Keep in mind that it also still holds true that you can find family in situations like this, it’s not mutually exclusive. Some just find more comfort in what they’re used to than what would be better for them. Kyouka is a better example of someone being a victim of an abusive community.

A false claim I've seen made many times are the ones where they have it as if Mori is the mafia itself or that he made the mafia what it was. It shouldn’t be too surprising, but it’s the opposite. Mori already held flawed, heartless, calculative methods when in situations he thought required them. We’ve seen him as a soldier and an underground doctor, but we know nothing else about him outside of his cruelty, just like the headmaster. What he does is never for what he thinks is for his benefit, but for the sake of something larger. Whether it’s for the city, the country, or eventually, the Port Mafia.

The mafia is the first time he’s been put into a position of absolute leadership and is not yet accustomed to that at the beginning of Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen. He’s able to quickly fit the mold of a mafia boss, but there’s that bit of honesty that peaks through in this light novel in the first and last sections that’s ignored too quickly. First Mori complains about nothing going immediately right, questions himself about Dazai, and becomes genuinely stressed if it was the right decision to involve him, then confesses that he sees himself in Dazai to him (and him and Fukuzawa in Soukoku in private), and finally gives his honest take of leadership to Chuuya.

I already go over Mori as a character in one of my other posts and will speak more of him later on, so I don’t want to reiterate the same points, but here we have proof he has (albeit poor) humanity. He did not become the Port Mafia boss for his own selfish gain of power if you’ve forgotten, but because Natsume introduced him to becoming part of the Tripartite Framework to protect the city he loves, it’s where he’d excel best in this plan. The Port Mafia was already a shithole, Mori just made it livable again by becoming what an organized crime group needs.

It’s what makes the dynamic between Kouyou and him so intriguing because you have an abuse victim who has embraced the environment she was forced back into, but won’t let go of someone who’s proven to be more of a decent leader than her tormentor and can be relied on. For victims who couldn’t get help or realize they needed help, the easier path is to accept this is your life through some justification. While I said the Port Mafia resembles an abusive community, communities as such aren’t purely terrible and that’s what keeps them justifying it in their head. The family you have for yourself, whether it's a made one or the one you're born with, is what sticks for you.

Like it or not, Mori isn’t stupid. He takes risky gambles that backfire on him sometimes, but he’s good at his job. He’s brutal enough to prove his own against the people who didn’t think he should’ve been boss and outsiders who want to go against the Port Mafia, but he’s considerate enough towards his people and shows enough competency to be perfect for the job. He’s not a great human being, but what did you expect? He no longer had any room to express that humanity, he never had; there was no benefit from being a good person in his line of work.

The Heartless Cur

That looked like a great segue to talk about Dazai and Mori’s dynamic, but it’d benefit to go over Akutagawa first. For those who do acknowledge it as an abusive situation, Thank you for at least taking that step. Numerous don’t and it worries me at the state of what’s considered abuse vs. training. It may be both at times but don't excuse one for the other. Training needs formal consent and communication at some point during a session. Akutagawa is learning, but it’s the same as getting yelled at as a child for not doing your homework right, when again, you’re still just learning.

It might’ve been easier to see for those who do acknowledge it because of the visible physical abuse that happens, but let's not undermine the psychological abuse happening as well. Dazai has messed with his psyche on an abhorrent level through his degrading and threats, making him reliant to hear a single word of acknowledgment from his mouth. What happened to Akutagawa is beyond the mafia’s environment.

Akutagawa does not hate or want Dazai dead for what he’s done to him, but he does hold anger at the seeming abandonment he’s been put through… and at himself as well. Anger that he couldn't get to what Dazai wanted him to be before he suddenly left. So he proves himself by climbing the ranks and becoming someone feared. Spectacles of violence not because he enjoys the feeling of other’s suffering or the power over them, but to show Dazai that see? He's still worth looking at!

He stays in the mafia because he’s found a place there. Even if he could, there was no point in leaving the mafia after he disappeared because what would be left for him if he did? He will always be an unchangeable, horrific hound of the dark and there's no changing that in his mind. From an inference of his actions in the dungeon when they finally reunite one-on-one, he wanted to believe that he was above Dazai after all those years, but Dazai doesn't act impressed or scared or anything. After all that effort, he gets nothing but ridicule and mockery like he's back to being that little kid with an oversized coat too big for his body.

Worse is that he gets told that some new kid Dazai picked up, who didn't train to the extent he did to refine his abilities, is better than him somehow. He gets riled up and at first, takes out on Dazai, but all those threats about killing him and how he went against the mafia were empty. Even now he can't bring himself to hate Dazai, he needs his mentor to acknowledge him no matter what side he's on. He never let go of Dazai, his coat is proof enough of that. So he takes it out on the party that isn't responsible and is convinced he needs to overcome Atsushi to prove something to Dazai.

He doesn't hate Atsushi, not genuinely. He does the same when he’s told he’ll never compare to Odasaku, someone who objectively should’ve been the weakest member due to his status. He gets angry at Dazai’s words, gets angry at himself, then takes it out on the person mentioned, rinse and repeat. I’m not sure if I’m the only one to notice, but he genuinely believed that the meaningful life Dazai gave him laid in the mafia and being useful to its cause. He has no reason to be as loyal to the mafia if he didn't think this.

Dazai’s acknowledgment means more than just appreciation for his skills and strength, it means his life meant something by striving for being the strongest. It’s not about the acknowledgment at all. Whenever he critiques and shames Atsushi for how he lives his life, it just feels like he’s unknowingly shaming himself through him without having to acknowledge his wrongs. It makes me curious about how much the acknowledgment itself even matters to him and the validation it gives him to strive for this is an excuse to keep living so what he’s doing in the mafia even matters in the end. What counts as acknowledgment to him?

He's convinced his faults are what made Dazai turn away, he just doesn’t know how to do anything to fix it and can't fix it this late into the game. What does Dazai want from him other than being stronger? When Dazai directly asks him to do something important involving Atsushi, he’s confused. He has no reason to trust him to do these missions. He’ll take the chance to prove himself once and for all, but to be included means he's being acknowledged, so what gives? The number of times he visibly self-reflects can be counted on one hand because as soon as it shows, he goes back to justify his violence and ignores his faults.

As someone whose favorite character is Akutagawa, I’m disgusted that all people can take away from him is “Akutagawa is an obsessive fanboy that deserves no sympathy because of what he did to Kyouka” or “Akutagawa is a poor, miserable man that didn’t deserve what Dazai made him into and should be absolved of responsibility because it’s all Dazai’s fault”. Both are very shallow and very harmful to perpetrate as they continue the idea that a person can only be the abused or abuser. He's both and it's okay to admit that.

Quickly let’s clear up this: He is not the way he is because of Dazai.

What Dazai IS responsible for:

Akutagawa’s need for his constant approval and recognition

Akutagawa learning to hone his ability

Akutagawa’s toxic views of being useful

The reason Akutagawa’s still alive

The reason Akutagawa is the Mafia’s dog

What Dazai is NOT responsible for:

Everything else

Akutagawa’s lean toward violence, his one-track stubborn mindset, and his lone-wolf attitude are not a product of Dazai’s treatment, he’s always been that way because of his time in the slums. He got beaten down by adults frightened of his empty gaze, had to learn to protect himself and find something to eat to survive, helped take care of his sister Gin and his friends by himself, and everyone constantly dying around him. That’s the real reason his personality is like that. He is a victim of his circumstances in a society that deemed him worthless, so he also thinks of his life as worthless. That’s why Dazai means so much to him.

Dazai did not trick him into joining the mafia, Dazai expressed what he was going to go through was worse than what happened in the slums and gave Akutagawa an out that he could live a normal life with enough money, but he knew Akutagawa would not refuse because he still needed meaning in living, just like him. Gaining enough money to get by so he and his sister could get out of the slums would do nothing for him, he already felt that his life was worthless. He has no problem throwing it away at any time, he was gonna die young regardless because of his lung disease. It has manipulative undertones, but that's how Dazai usually is with even the people he cares about.

Akutagawa knows too well that a person needs a sign, someone to tell them it’s okay to keep going, and so does Dazai. Part of Dazai’s goal is to save Akutagawa from dying and give him a reason to live like he promised that day because he sees the potential that could come from his development. I don't want to sound like a dick again, but you’d have to be dense to think Akutagawa would still be dead by the end of this arc. He isn’t sending him off to his death, Dazai doesn’t know everything.

Even if he knew Akutagawa might die there, it's better than both Atsushi and Akutagawa dying at that moment. If Akutagawa didn’t want to die for him, he wouldn’t have, he chose to save Atsushi’s life. This is why I have to defend Asagiri. Let’s reread the interview together, to make it get across already.

(Twt link)

Q: Just like how Akutagawa and Atsushi's relationship has changed, I could feel the relationship between Dazai and Akutagawa moving forward too. Is it like what Akutagawa has said in Episode 3 of Season 5, that every order he has received from Dazai so far has been "a trial", "a part of a meaningfull life"?

First, the question being asked. They’re asking Asagiri about their relationship in the present, and how it’s developed. Akutagawa is no longer thinking he was abandoned by Dazai for a new, better student like he was made him believe, that was just to rile him up and interact with Atsushi more. Instead, he realizes that he’s not supposed to work against Atsushi, he’s supposed to work with him. How he decides to go about that battle with Fukuchi and whether or not he works with Atsushi like a partner is his trial. If this was Akutagawa before he met Atsushi, he would’ve no doubt escaped or might’ve thought defeating Fukuchi would prove himself to Dazai. He's not an obstacle to his meaningful life, his quest for a meaningful life lies with Atsushi.

Asagiri responds with:

Asagiri: Needless to say, Dazai is the most qualified person in this world to help Akutagawa grow. Dazai has a vision for Akutagawa's development, and he completely understands what it takes to achieve it. We, as obsevers, can only see bits and pieces of that vision. But I can at least say that Dazai's training plan has never been wrong.

Many find this answer questionable, I was stunned reading it myself. Asagiri is not wrong at all here though, Dazai is objectively the only person in this series who can find a way to help him. Atsushi is the endpoint, but Dazai has been guiding him to this point. Dazai himself said that he was planning to team them up the moment he met Atsushi, he was still thinking of him even after all these years. There are much scarier implications than thinking that Asagiri was wrong. It's that Dazai was doing everything intentionally to get Akutagawa’s mindset where it was. He didn't mess up with Akutagawa, he just couldn't personally teach him the skills he needed and chose a different route until he found something that could.

Asagiri is not saying the abuse was morally justified, but the intention behind it was not wrong in an objective stance. Dazai would know what to do the most because of his understanding of wanting to find meaning in living. Teenage Dazai couldn’t have achieved much by himself, even if he could understand since he also could not find meaning in life. That’s why he made him hang on to his every breath of validation so he would keep his faith in Dazai long enough for him to find a solution to this dilemma. The moment in life when he found Akutagawa was not ideal and he still did what he thought he had to do for him to survive in the mafia. Without his ability, he's incredibly weak and needs to be able to defend himself. A violent person could not have made another violent person unlearn their violence.

You could say he just wanted a weapon, but that’s not it, not even close. Many of you are stuck on the part that it was a suicidal teenager that picked Akutagawa up from the slums and that no way someone like that could teach another suicidal teenager anything, so it’s “comical that Asagiri thinks as though he’s the most qualified”. You’re not wrong in some sense, but this is still incredibly intelligent, “Black Wrath of the Port Mafia”, Osamu Dazai, and not just some suicidal teenager.

He’s also no longer a teenager. Right now we’re talking of Dazai in the present who’s grown and no longer needs to be how he was in the mafia, he has Atsushi now, someone who can help Akutagawa see what’s wrong in his outlook. The only thing he could’ve done back then was to shelter Akutagawa so he wouldn’t kill himself. It's horrible, but Dazai validating where he is now would do no good for either of them and fix nothing.

Q: What kind of person is Dazai to Akutagawa?

Asagiri: Actually, at the time of "The Dark Era", Dazai already spoke very highly of Akutagawa, as someone who would "become the Mafia's strongest skill user in the not-so-distant future". He just doesn't say that in front of Akutagawa himself. The reason he doesn't say it is that Dazai has to be "the presence that continues to give meaning to life" to Akutagawa. So far, that trial has been completely successful.

None of what Asagiri brings up is new information. He doesn’t say it in front of Akutagawa not to spite him, but if he gives these praises out too freely, he loses his distant, almost god-like presence in Akutagawa and will go back to being just a lone wolf with no exceptions that will carelessly get himself killed. Without any goal, he’s lost. Just like Atsushi and the headmaster and how Atsushi hinges on proving he can do a good thing to motivate his life, Akutagawa similarly hinges on the fact that if he fails, he won’t get Dazai’s approval.

However, his death was not fully about Dazai’s approval in the way he's been preaching. In chapter 87, he mentions Dazai’s approval like always, and when they fail the first time even after trusting and working with each other as Shin Soukoku should, It hits him. What came into his head I cannot parse out at the moment, but his actions speak so much louder than any explanation we could've gotten. Of course, he's helping Atsushi escape, but what does he do for that? He used his ability on his shirt, and not just on the coat like he typically does.

It doesn't seem like a big deal at first, he could've always done that, but when was the last time he used it on something that wasn't the coat Dazai gave him? The coat means many things. His new beginning, his path in being Dazai’s student and successor (as that was also Mori’s coat), but it also conveys Dazai’s will that keeps him alive and that he's only strong with his coat. Without it, he's defenseless, so he clings to this coat the exact way he clings to those orders. It's his encouragement to keep going when Dazai isn't there. This overwhelming, suffocating responsibility, an oversized coat, is a lot to give to a kid but it's comfortable and he’ll grow into it eventually.

It was already a huge step in his development that he gave Atsushi his coat, but to use his ability not on his coat means he's making an effort to overcome his fixation and do an action unrelated to Dazai for the sake of Atsushi’s life. His whole life after the slums, everything he's ever done was with Dazai in mind. Him saving Atsushi’s life was not because he was doing what Dazai wanted him to do, that he'd finally get approval for doing It, and in turn give his life meaning before he died. When he saved Atsushi, it would give his life meaning in just that. He shouldn't let himself be defined by the past the way he criticizes Atsushi for, so he’s going to choose his meaning. I wouldn't say he's moved past Dazai yet, but he's getting there.

Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship is not healthy in the slightest, and Dazai’s crueler actions and words against him are not right, but they’re still growing and not stagnant characters. Atsushi and Akutagawa learn from each other and that's what's pushing them to change. Nobody will pretend those past means weren’t just abuse, they were, but there's so much more to it. Like I asked with the director, was he successful? Well from what I’ve said, yes it so far has gone the way Dazai hoped for in the best-case scenario.

In the main universe at least, this is one of the better ways it could’ve gone. Beast is a different story. Teenage Dazai of the main universe was unsure of Akutagawa’s future and did only what he could’ve done at that time, but Beast Dazai does have that knowledge and he decided that it would be best for Akutagawa to not be in the mafia, instead bringing in Atsushi. It wouldn’t have been good to let him pursue his violent tendencies more than necessary in the mafia in this universe when he knew there was a better option, especially with someone like Oda, who would take the time to care for him properly.

Even if he didn’t bring him in, he still gave him the motivation to keep living for something. The prologue of Beast is a mirror to The Heartless Cur, with instead it’s a distant relationship of hate Akutagawa has for him for taking his sister. For those who argue that since Beast exists, that means Asagiri was somehow “wrong about Dazai”, but it’s still Dazai from the beginning that’s the source of this motivation. Dazai, who's still guiding him. If we’re gonna be honest, Dazai was putting their development/capabilities in speed run mode with the logic and future information he had access to prepare them for a timeline he won’t be alive for. There are many factors for what he did in Besst, but that’s not the conversation.

What does he get from helping him? Who knows, Asagiri wasn’t being cheeky when he said we only see bits and pieces of his vision. We barely have any clue what’s going through that man’s head, so don’t act like you do. He wasn’t always planning for the next Soukoku. Maybe it was a thought that came up sometimes, but he’s only met Atsushi recently. What about Akutagawa was so different from any other powerful ability-wielding orphan? Well, we’re not gonna know any time soon.

The point is that Dazai is thinking about their future, even if the abuse or manipulation makes that hard to see. Please do remember that abuse is still selfish no matter the intention, but non-selfish intentions make it all the more complicated to process. Their relationship is not misunderstood by Asagiri himself, it’s just clear to me most don’t want to face the unpleasant truth that there is more to their dynamic. When I first realized what was going on, I couldn’t help but get unnerved and awkward when someone would ask me about these two. These are both characters in the spotlight that you’re supposed to care about, but what happened between them is rotten.

You’re not supposed to pretend it didn’t happen because Dazai still contributed to who he is and it shows whenever it’s on screen. Abuse doesn’t make us stronger, don’t make it as if that’s a message that Asagiri is spreading. What happened to him motivated his development, but with Atsushi, that’s the opposite. Their circumstances are different and victims process what's happened to them in various ways. Depicting it in a form less common than usual doesn't mean the author thinks in the same way the victim does, it's just nuance at work.

I did not add Akutagawa’s attitude towards his subordinates and newer members as Dazai’s responsibility because Dazai is not the one controlling his hands when he hits Higuchi. Dazai’s mentoring contributed to his toxic views of being useful, but it’s only Akutagawa’s responsibility once he raises his hand. Instead of thinking of this in the context of the most typical abusive situation you can think of, how about this:

Your parent was raised in an abusive household, but they think they came out of it just fine and that there was nothing wrong with how they were treated. They treat you almost the same way, and all you can take away from that when you find out is, “At least it’s not as bad as it could’ve been”. You still hold anger at the standards they’re forcing you to reach, but if that’s what it takes to get that approval, then you’ll keep going anyway. Even if you get yelled at and you know you shouldn’t be treated like this, it’ll feel nice when you finally get on their good graces, right?

Then you get a new sibling, and all of that comes crumbling down. They don’t treat your sibling anywhere near the same when you were that age. Years go by and you get angrier and angrier. Why is it only you that was put to that standard? Even worse is that they treat you differently now too. You finally got to those standards, but now what is it worth? They’re so much nicer now and you want to curse them out for only changing now. Why couldn’t have had that parent from the beginning? It’s so unfair, but you can’t take it out on them because you still need them, they mean so much to you. As angry as you were, they were doing it because they cared about you in their way, you think. It was what your grandparents did to them at least. So you start treating your sibling similarly to how you were treated because you can’t take it that they didn’t experience that hardship without destroying yourself first.

Question: Are you right in what you did? Was the parent responsible for what you did to your sibling?

Nobody in their right mind would say yes to that first question. It makes sense why it happened, but continuing abuse will never be the correct answer. You’re doing the same thing your parent did. The second question needs more exposition to answer, however. How responsible is responsible?

In the end, even if it was the parent who influenced it, you’re only responsible for what you’ve done on your own accord. The parent did not tell you to take it out on your sibling, you decided that yourself. The parent is still responsible for what they’ve done to you, never get that wrong, but if you say that your guilt is absolved because it’s all their fault, you sound no different from any other abuser in denial. Are you saying now that the parent is also absolved from guilt because it’s all their parent’s fault too? Listen to yourself, You hurt someone but it’s not your fault, but the person who hurt you is also somehow not at fault? If someone came up to you and said that, you’d be fed up.

For those who do the same thing with Mori, rethink what you’re saying. Is it that painful to admit your favorite characters are at fault and that they’re changing? This comparison isn’t perfect and ignores some key factors: Dazai isn’t Akutagawa’s or Atsushi’s father and is not much older than them, the Port Mafia is a violent workplace environment and requires you to be able to navigate it a certain way, and all three of them at adults in present time. I used this comparison to be more real to earth and something a larger audience could process themselves to truly get that the emotions here are not straightforward even in a realistic situation.

Re: Portrait of a Father

Just like the prologue, in chapter 3 of the Beast light novel, Portrait of a Father is mirrored and retold in brutal upset that does not hold the hopeful bittersweetness at the end of it unlike its original. Before the present day, against all orders Dazai gave him, Atsushi attacked the orphanage on the day of his birthday. On his birthday, he would be reborn from the ashes of his past being burnt away, and kill the director inside to release himself from the fear of those memories.

It’s what he says at least.

Playing out, the director was expecting him. There might have only been one person in his mind who would’ve attacked a rundown orphanage on this scale. It frightens Atsushi after all that planning and fear of losing to the director, he could still see through him, but confusion takes hold when he’s told that he was late for his graduation.

Graduation? Atsushi is in fight or flight mode, why is he approaching him with this box? He can’t imagine it being anything other than a weapon, nothing else would make sense for this cruel monster. The director won’t give him any straight answer, just repeating words he’s heard over and over growing up here. He uses his tiger hearing to glean what could be inside.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

There’s the proof, it had to be a bomb. He needs to protect himself before anything happens or he’ll die. He’s scared, he can’t move, but he has to fight. The director opens his arms for the embrace of his child… and death, plummeted into a bloody mess on the floor. Only out of the corner of his eye, only when Atsushi stopped, he saw what was in the box. It was a watch, brand new and high-end. Happy Birthday was what was written on a sheet of paper next to it.

His last words, whispered into his ear, were words of encouragement: “Yes… just like that.”

I was not kidding when I said this was brutal. Just like in the main universe, Atsushi learns why he did what he did and can’t place any of his feelings, but overwhelmingly guilt crushes him to keep protecting people with his life rather than just fear because he killed him. He finds out much earlier about what happened with Shibusawa, and how the director protected his identity as the tiger.

The director’s intentions are draining when you let your mind wander. As we’ve established, the headmaster as a figure of hate for Atsushi is intentional on his part. He doesn’t explain anything on purpose here to probe him into killing him. He bought that watch for Atsushi as a congratulations for growing up and becoming a new independent individual.

In the split minute before Atsushi took the first swing, he said his usual, “Those who fail to protect others do not deserve to live.” I have to question now if he was so willing to die there, even encouraging him to kill him, then has it been this whole time he still can’t live with himself for what happened to his friends… or is it because he couldn’t protect Atsushi anymore? Maybe I’m overthinking it and it was just that the headmaster thought Atsushi needed to kill him to remove an obstacle in his growth as an individual, to be a necessary sacrifice for his benefit.

It's too flawed though. The director will never leave him, not after all that he's engraved into Atsushi. The watch has become not a symbol of a person who's found himself, but a child that's latched himself onto his father's cold corpse that won't ever respond, but that child would do anything to have him wake up and say "Good job, Atsushi". The director also has a clock, but can he call himself a strong individual when he hasn't let go of the past either?

Time stopped for Beast Atsushi when he picked up that watch. If he had just followed orders, none of this would’ve happened. If he isn’t his father’s child, if he doesn’t uphold his last wish, then who is he? When he’s no longer in the mafia and has time for himself to think, he wanders.

He failed in becoming someone he could be proud of, he deserved to die for that but doesn't want to be dead… because It wasn't truly about the Director, just like how it wasn't truly about Dazai’s acknowledgment or saving his sister for Akutagawa. At first, that was the motivation, it's the reasoning they keep going with, but in the end, it was to save their own life and give it purpose to validate why they're still around. If they can die like this, then it's all the same. If they have their own life in someone else’s hands, then they no longer have to be responsible for their own heavy-hearted weight.

Beast Atsushi is given neither and is taken of his reasoning, but he keeps going. Aimlessly.

Luckily, it’s not where his story ends.

He wakes up in his old orphanage, and it’s no longer the dreary place it was when he was younger. Kids laughing outside, no chains on the walls or bars blocking off the windows, and the new Orphanage Director greets him. He tells him that he will go back to being a student of the orphanage until he can become independent again, under one of Dazai’s last requests before he died.

Still, there’s one thing he needs to do. The new director takes out the watch and tells him to break it. Atsushi is distraught by this notion, but he won’t let Atsushi leave if he doesn’t. The new director has good reason, there is no point in becoming someone the past director was proud of and this is what’s holding him back. Atsushi, eventually, tells him he will not break the watch. He can’t move on just yet and this watch is still proof he’s himself, yet…

He’ll keep going and move forward, just like Akutagawa told him after he spared his life. The new director finds those words to be enough, saying he can’t leave until he finds something else to define himself with, but he can keep living here as his son. He went there to burn away his past and came out of it not able to let go of the past, but now he can redo and process it healthily with someone willing to hold him like a father should.

The Man Who Raised Dazai

Everyone who’s read Beast has questioned it: Why did Dazai in his right mind have Mori take care of an orphanage? Why did he save his life? Better yet, why is he so nice?! I have come up with some speculation on why Dazai would.

“Beast Dazai recognized this potential of change either from the multitude of universes he was able to witness or recognized it in his own considering canonverse Dazai never does anything against Mori (even if he visibly dislikes him).”

“Possibility is one thing, the why is another. It was either that he saw potential and good that could come out of this in the long run, Mori’s intelligence and expertise still proves usefulness, less dangerous for Oda in the long run if he let Mori stay there instead of the Mafia, or all three.”

(Didn’t feel like rephrase them)

We can’t know anything for sure about his decision, but I do know Mori is the type of character to sacrifice his feelings for what he thinks would logically benefit the sum, and there’s no better way to release yourself from that too-calculative responsibility than to remove yourself from it and to be in a place where you’re allowed to care for others and express yourself when there is no greater purpose than to just grow.

What happened with Yosano is undoubtedly wrong, but Mori had put away any sympathy in those situations because he needed her to do what he brought her in for. I was confused by his declaration that violence should never be used to educate children when I read it, especially out of his mouth, but now I understand. He would know with certainty that it’s not the right way to educate children, particularly because this is a Mori that hasn’t been in the dark for these past years and has grown to care for these children at the orphanage without any greater intention for them.

He’s not like the Old Director because he has no reason to think these kids would end up the way he did. They’re just kids that need someone to raise them with kindness, kindness will be what gets them through life as functional adults. Abuse has too many drawbacks to be called an optimal solution here. Is it surprising that all it took to change Mori was the kindness and salvation Dazai offered to him when he took over? Can you believe it was that simple to treat someone like a human being instead of a figure of hate?

What sticks out to me like a sore thumb is that when he’s introduced in Beast, he’s referred to as the man who raised Dazai. He is, regardless of what you think, the closest thing Dazai has to a father figure. In regards to how the fanbase speaks of their relationship, it’s hard to think that he cared about Dazai, but he did and the extent of how bad it got between them is grossly exaggerated.

As many comparisons Dazai gets with Yosano, their relationship with Mori is very different. Unlike Yosano, he did not need to be forced to do anything with psychological abuse and he did not need to be torn down to do what Mori asked him to. We don’t know what happened to him to become like this, but it wasn’t because of Mori. Yosano had light in her and a motivation to do the right thing, but Dazai didn’t. Dazai is no stranger to any violence or using violence himself even before Mori if he's this desensitized.

It’s useful that Dazai is like that when he meets him, up until it isn’t. He’s moody and actively looking to die. Mori can’t predict him that easily and Dazai can see right through him. There’s another huge difference between them though: Mori sees himself in Dazai. We don’t have enough insight in his head to make conclusive statements, but I think this is why he cared for Dazai. It’s not because he saw a child struggling that he cared, but grew some fondness because he saw a little mini-him. When he drove Dazai out of the Port Mafia, he expected him to come back and take back his vacant seat.

Eventually, Dazai will come back and realize that petty anger about someone dying is illogical in somewhere like the mafia. But because of him not being able to see through Dazai and seeing himself in him, he also expected him to eventually usurp his seat if he stayed any longer. That is why he had invited Mimic at the time he did and manipulated the situation so Oda, someone he knew Dazai cared for, would go and take care of the situation flawlessly. He’d be sacrificed and Mori could get something out of it, a Skilled Business Permit. A perfect plan… in theory, but Mori was wrong and miscalculated on many levels because of how many assumptions he made about Dazai.

First, he wouldn’t have known that it was Oda who held the words that would convince him to leave the mafia and go into the world of light. Dazai will never come back to his own volition. Second, as those panels quite literally tell you, Dazai was never planning on killing him. He saw his place in the mafia and saw that he was needed there. When Mori finally realizes his mistake with Dazai 4 years later during the Guild Arc, he can’t go back. His plan was still perfectly sound and he still got what he wanted out of it. He shouldn’t regret it, but…

Now that’s been paved out, where does wanting to save Dazai fit into this? If I had to assume, it’s the same reason he didn’t shoot Dazai for leaving his office during Dark Era. He cared about that boy, for 4 whole years he left him and his seat alone when the logical thing he should be doing was replacing him, but as much as he might’ve cared, he needed to put the mafia first. He didn’t let him die because of his use, but also because of their so-called “common destiny” in his eyes, a diamond in a rough he might’ve disposed of otherwise if he didn’t see his potential. There’s not much he could’ve done for Dazai here except keep him healthy and alive. Mori gets tons of flack for not trying to help him, but there's nothing he could've done, not in their position.

He can't cultivate his potential if there is abuse involved because there is no logical reason for him to do anything to Dazai. You guys have to stop assuming the worst when it comes to Mori, you’re missing huge character details that are right in front of you. The difference between Mori, the Boss of the Port Mafia, and Mori, the Orphanage Director is that he had time to rekindle his humanity so he’s able to care about him like a normal human being, feel guilt, and admit regret after Beast Dazai has died. Mori at most was responsible for ingraining tactical strategies and theories and molding him into the perfect Mafioso and right-hand man.

Not to say any of those aren’t a bad thing. He’s still a child and having him use his desensitized, intelligent mind to build the potential in what he could do for the mafia, it’s just that he’s responsible for very little in Dazai’s personality. The only answer I could give about Dazai being abused by Mori or being abused under the credentials that he’s a child in a violent, unsafe place is the same answer given earlier for Chuuya: in his case, not really.

Regarding this, I retract my statement about anything I’ve said about Beast Atsushi not being a victim in his time in the mafia, but I still hold my stance that he’s not the victim of the port mafia. I want to say the same thing about Beast Dazai and Atsushi that I do here, but considering he picked him up and trained him like how he trained Akutagawa, there’s a great chance Dazai emotionally abused him when you read their interactions. Not physically as that would make him too much like the headmaster, but just enough emotional distress in bringing up traumatic moments to manipulate him into doing what he needs of him.

It’s not a good relationship, but Mori wasn’t targeting Dazai in any real way like the Director and Atsushi or Dazai and Akutagawa. Unlike every other section, I have to conclude that he didn’t do anything to Dazai in that regard other than treating him like another adult when he shouldn't have. I don’t have much to say negatively about their dynamic otherwise. Just a weird, terrible son with his weird, terrible father. It’s more like someone who's taking after their mentor’s teaching and methods rather than an abuse victim echoing their abuser. This is why I don't accept the “Cycle of Abuse” as how the fandom understands it. It tells me a lot that people resort to the blame game.

I wonder what Dazai and Mori’s relationship would've looked like without any of this in the middle. Maybe something in cadence with Ranpo and Fukuzawa, but I can't help thinking that accepting Atsushi as his son in Beast instead of a student wasn't just for Atsushi’s sake. He was about to call him his student too, but immediately changed his mind. He already admitted he was helping him because of what happened to Dazai, so it can’t be a huge jump to think that in the same way this is Atsushi’s redo in building a relationship with a father figure, this is Mori’s redo to give him some atonement for the boy he failed.

A Mother’s Love

Kyouka, when we first meet her, appears as a force to be reckoned with. With skills a young girl shouldn’t have, and a demon shadowing behind, she’s a terrifying opponent. Quickly though, that appearance falls short in tragedy when the bomb Atsushi’s after is found on her own body and when he asks if she truly wants to kill... She has no answer, but her actions speak clearly. She gives him the defuser because she doesn’t want any more people to die, but the man behind the phone will not let it defuse.

So Kyouka does the next best thing to save more from dying: falling off the train with the bomb that’s about to go off. As long as she dies with it, nobody can use her and her abilities to massacre the people on the train when the bomb eventually fails to do what is necessary. Because that’s when Atsushi realizes that she cannot control her ability herself. No matter what she genuinely wants, she will never have the ability to obtain it because of this one fact. She can only be what people tell her she is.

We all know this story well, she gets saved by Atsushi and the man behind the phone is Akutagawa. Atsushi offers her the same kindness Dazai extended to him regardless of his reputation and destruction because it’d only be the right thing to do. He knows her incoming fate of eventual death for her crimes, he can’t do much, but she should at least experience normalcy this one time.

When she’s about to turn herself in, Akutagawa stops her and tells her she did her job well as a decoy for him to capture Atsushi. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a peculiar oddness about Akutagawa here in his attitude towards Kyouka. In all logic, even though she is a strong tool to the mafia, she’s a low-level member, a disobedient one at that, and should’ve been killed on sight for her betrayal considering how quick he is to violence, but he talks as if nothing even happened. He brushes off any thought of her dying as she’s spouting nonsense and that she’s going to go back to the mafia as normal.

But then he spouts off about how she’s better off dead on the ship if she stops killing. What’s up with that? It’s not completely obvious at first, but he’s projecting his own experiences in the slums and beliefs formed from Dazai’s mentoring onto her. From his time when he wasn’t in the mafia, he tells her there’s nothing left out there for people like them, there’s only rock bottom. He can confidently say that there is nowhere that would accept her for her ability, demon snow, because it’s the same for him.

The only way her life can have value is to kill to be useful, just like any good mafia member. It’s exactly why that flashback with Dazai happens here. He’s the one who fed him these thoughts he’s lived with for these past 6 years, and what she’s been believing for 6 months. He doesn’t loathe her, he sees it as doing a favor for her. What else can a little girl who can kill be use of except to kill in her circumstances?

Contrary to popular belief, he is not her abuser and is not the same thing Dazai was to him. He neither trained her nor did we have information on their relationship to come to that conclusion. The only thing we know is that he was the one sent to pick her up by the Port Mafia. We can prove she is not the way she is because Akutagawa since Beast, well, exists. She is one of the few characters I can confidently say was a victim of the Port Mafia itself and not just a person of the Port Mafia specifically.

Akutagawa was trying to be what Dazai was to him, but he is selling a bastardized version of it to her. The person who was her Dazai was Atsushi, the same person who was given Dazai’s act of kindness. Someone who has experienced the same things Akutagawa has and is living proof that she can hope for something better.

He could see that the same revenge and lack of regard for her life in her eye was the same kind he met Dazai with. Despite that, these lessons he’s internalized have helped no one, not even himself. She can’t find meaning in something that is the root cause of her suicidal ideation. This life is unfulfilling for people like them who need meaning in life. Akutagawa doesn't realize this because he still has Dazai to be his motivational goal. That’s why he failed to help Kyouka, Dazai’s efforts would’ve been considered an utmost failure too if he wasn’t actively trying to fix that misunderstanding. Kindness is what actively saves us and helps us grow, the harm in abusive environments will only stunt us. But what happens when kindness is offered to us, but nothing comes out of it except proving us right that we’re unsavable? Then you have Kouyou.

Kouyou is the second person I could say was a victim of the Port Mafia. She has the same belief Akutagawa had about people like them being unable to be saved, so the only thing they can do is embrace it. I can’t claim she was Kyouka’s abuser either as we again don’t know enough, but that doesn’t change that her behavior is emotionally abusive, and is a much better contender than he is.

She’s doing the same thing Akutagawa was doing himself. Seeing themselves in this child and doing what she “needs” instead of what she wants. Just like him, she views this as saving her from the hands of light that will never make room for them and will ignore everything else she says. When Akutagawa is faced with her “disillusionment”, he… accepts it when she refuses his will and chooses another path, but almost kills her to spare her from that decision that would “doom” her.

Kouyou is much less accepting, opting to kill the root source of this hope itself, Atsushi, because her fondness for Kyouka prevents her from leaving her for dead. In contrast to Akutagawa’s attempt at being what gives her life meaning, Kouyou wants to stop Atsushi from being like the same man who also gave her hope that they could escape to the world of light. She can’t bear to see Kyouka go through the same realization she did far too late.

I can see what you're thinking, why am I reluctant to call either of them Kyouka’s abuser? Even if Akutagawa doesn't count, shouldn't Kouyou count because she seems to have an actual relationship with her and her effects are prevalent in Beast, the same points I mentioned to debunk accusations against him? Sure actually, but think about it like this. What the Port Mafia does have in common with real situations is that this is a community that is full of victims who refuse to process their traumatic experiences for any reason, and bring down others to their level when they don’t fit in their narrative to justify what’s happened to them.

There isn’t just one abuser weighing over you, there's this collective pressure from so many who aren't your abuser but they still contribute to your abuse with their presence itself. If Dazai wasn’t there in the mafia, would Akutagawa's situation have changed? Yes. Now if Akutagawa or Kouyou weren’t in the mafia, would Kyouka's situation have changed? Not at all. She’d have fewer examples to refer to, but she’d still be abused. If it’s easier to imagine, think of it similarly to cult mentality and how they keep you in cults. That is the reason I emphasized being a victim of the Port Mafia instead of an individual. Kouyou, Q, and Kyouka, while you can pin their main perpetrators on certain people, their overall situation doesn't change.

Now why doesn’t she just use the phone herself instead of letting people call Demon Snow for her? Wouldn’t she have more agency that way? Atsushi proposes this, but she rejects it instantly. It’s a very simple answer, it’s the same reason she can’t bear to look at it outside of when she’s forced to use it in combat. It’s her ability that killed her parents and why she was forced into this position.

It’s not hard for a little girl to believe she’s nothing more than a killing machine when she sees that night her ability would mercilessly kill her parents. She eventually caves when Kouyou points out how quick she is to vindicate violence to protect that hope she desperately wants a part of, and how she will never change. Her first mission with the Armed Detective Agency is proof in itself. Was Atsushi going to keep extending his kindness after hearing what she could only blame herself for?

Kouyou is a character I’ve seen that gets a lot of double standards compared to all of the other characters I’ve mentioned with abusive tendencies and is almost purely liked. She’s not seen as an absolute monster (The director, Mori) or controversial with one side containing pure dislike and another pure love (Akutagawa, Dazai), it’s only that she’s a well-written, sympathetic badass girl boss. It’s either because she’s a woman, that she doesn’t use an overt intimidation style, that her motives are more obvious in their emotional influences, or all of the above that she’s not treated the same.

Kouyou’s motivations are not special, as I’ve said. The only thing that differentiates them from the others is that they’re not covered by a mask of indifference. As fond as she is for her, she’s not much different from anyone else who holds the mafia up in high regard. She weaponizes her words in where they’d hurt the most so Kyouka would come with her. The entire last section of their battle sums up with her saying, “Kyouka come with me, they’ll only use you for your Ability when they get a hold of it. Even if the mafia did the same thing, at least they’ll accept you for who you truly are: a natural-born killer. You don’t have to fight anymore, I’ll protect you.”

When Atsushi finds Kyouka once again subsequently in her disappearance, she chooses to embrace her violence to help the Armed Detective Agency in this fight with the Guild. After her walk in where she used to reside, she comes the the conclusion she no longer belongs there. Against Kouyou’s wishes, she will brandish her blade for a home. That blows up in her face the moment she starts. Atsushi gets taken, and it’s just as Kouyou said would happen. If even her violence doesn’t get her wish, then what can she do besides leave herself to her fate?

As someone who’s seen another with a talent for killing walk the path of good and is on that same path himself, Dazai talks to her. He tells her about how she hasn’t gone through her entrance exam yet, how she isn’t an official member because she hasn’t proven her will or life on the line to help people she doesn’t necessarily know. Kyouka doesn’t believe she could’ve passed if that’s what it takes, but Dazai doesn’t agree with the points she’s brought up. So what if she’s killed or considered dangerous? That doesn’t make her less qualified to be a part of the Detective Agency, everyone there is from different backgrounds.

She can’t know everything, not even about herself. Nobody does, but it takes others to see more of yourself. Excelling in one area doesn’t prevent you from nurturing your potential in another. What would that make someone like Atsushi, a person who’s been her guiding figure throughout—but was never seen as anything more than a threat or a beast because of his ability before he joined them? The truth is, our lives aren’t defined by one purpose the moment we’re born, it’s only something you can make for yourself. We’re not the places we’ve been raised in, not the ideas people apply to us, and we’re especially not defined by the traumatic experiences we had no control over.

All of it accumulates the person we are today, and we can’t change that no matter how much we resent parts of our image that don’t hold up to what society deems as right, but it shouldn’t take control over what we want for ourselves. It isn’t fair for the victims who were forced into a life where they had to fend for themselves, the children who had to navigate an adult’s messed up world that didn’t have room for them to grow as kids should. Forced into a box where they stay unaware that they’ve ever left their mother’s womb, break out in fury with eyes that grew up too early—only to become lost and thrown away, or rot in that box without a single person knowing they were a breathing, living human being.

I deem abuse selfish for this very reason. Kouyou is wrong for this very reason. If she finds comfort in her reasoning, then I can’t critique her for her own choices and will have to respect her for choosing to stay in the mafia even when the old boss is dead, every abuse victim is different, but not a single person is born evil or good, in the dark or light. Not a soul has to stay in one place because they started there. It’s going to be a hard journey to truly achieve what you long for, results aren’t immediate and not everyone gets there no matter their effort, but still try. Try because it’s still worth trying, because you’re still worth more than you think.

In parallel, you can only get there as long as you’re seeking it. Too many see the Armed Detective Agency as something that will automatically save characters just by working there, but the only way it can help them is if they seek out their help themselves. The ADA is not the right place for every character, but Kyouka does want a place there. After her conversation with Dazai, she knows what she wants to do now. She will smash the drone she’s in into Moby Dick so nobody will have to die, but sacrifice her own life in the process. She’s chained to this place, but her choices aren’t.

She doesn’t have to die with regret, with this she can pass the entrance exam and become an agency member like she wanted. She made a difference for herself just by this act. It’d be a pretty melancholy arc if it ended like that, thank god we know it doesn’t end like this. When you become a full agency member, you gain more control over your ability, meaning—

She’s fine.

The exposition is over, let’s talk about Kyouka. Her arc is beautiful and the neglect to talk about her when it comes to her abuse story besides saying, “She’s the one who stopped the abuse cycle” and then nothing else is heartbreakingly superficial. She didn’t stop it, it’s impossible to, but she did break out of it. Kyouka’s section has more exposition than the others but I expected that. I wanted to save her for last because she’s the only one whose arc has come to a peaceful conclusion and not unfinished, and the lighter message felt nice to leave off on.

I shouldn’t berate Kouyou too much, the only reason she stayed in that room after being captured by the ADA is because she did want Kyouka to experience what she never had, and speaking with Dazai helped reassure her that Kyouka would be able to achieve her dreams. It’s no longer the age of the old boss. As well as her shedding the truth about her parent’s death so she wouldn’t have to resent her ability as not an avatar of massacre, but a product of her parents’ love that will always stay with her. She didn’t let go of the phone she’s had this entire time because her mother told her not to let it go.

Me going over Kouyou in this fashion is not me saying you shouldn’t love her character, I like her too. It’s just that it’s passed over so fast what she did, but somehow Akutagawa is more at fault here is mind-boggling. I’d get it a little more if this is because she redeemed herself by wanting the best for Kyouka over what was best for the mafia, but I doubt that’s the case when that moment is talked about so little as well.

I genuinely need you all to understand that not every character is going to have a satisfying, clean conclusion like this. Akutagawa’s story is most likely not going to have a conclusion that satisfies everyone and you should respect it when it comes. There’s no perfect way of writing abuse, but there’s no correct way of doing it either. I don’t think Dazai is going to have the repercussions you want him to have any time soon. If you got the message from Beast, getting revenge on an abuser doesn’t make us feel better or let us process what happened to us. Total resentment keeps us stuck.

The only thing that will heal us is the kindness so many offer in this series. You in no way need to extend that kindness to an abuser, you don’t need to forgive them or let them into your life again, but be kind to yourself and don’t let resentment prevent you from focusing on yourself. Forgiveness and reconnection are not the same thing. Don’t be angry when a victim does want those things. Unless it’s character inconsistent, that’s not something we shouldn’t have any opinion on as the right or wrong way to go about their lives. What if later they do change their mind and want something different from what they originally planned? That’s fine too. Everyone is different. Don’t give unsolicited advice to people who do not want it, let them decide for themselves. It is the best thing you can do.

The worst abusers are the ones who refuse to change and see wrong in what they’re doing, but what about the ones who do want that? Then also let them heal. They did something awful, why isn’t it a good thing they want to stop it now? You don’t have to let them in just because they changed though. Apologies don’t fix the damage already done, but to some victims, it feels nice to feel that what’s been done to them is acknowledged. You don’t want them to hurt others the way they’ve done to you, and neither do they. It hurts to let them forgive themselves when you haven’t and never will, you want to see them suffer, but that’s the only way things can change.

Dazai has changed, is he a good person even after what he’s done? I despise this question for any character of this series. He’s grown so much, and if you don’t think so, reread his conversation with Kyouka I beg of you. It is a far cry from his mindset in the mafia. A better person for sure, but a good person is hard to define for anyone in this series. The mafia is still the mafia, do any of them qualify as good people? The government, even if it’s the position of the right in society, is still an unjust system.

What a good person is cannot be an objective answer, people think there is but it’s not. A good person is how much we know about them and where our position in life affects our viewpoint. Prejudice values don’t make you correct in what you think a good person is, being convicted of a crime, one you might not even have committed, doesn’t automatically make you a bad person, being associated with a group doesn’t mean anything about who you are, etc. It’s all subjective in the end.

Meaning someone like Odasaku is essential in a story like this. He still has a presence in this narrative, even if he died in a light novel, because his existence pushes the boundaries of a “good person” in the fact his contradictory existence establishes itself. He failed in walking the path he wanted, but he doesn’t regret it even in his dying moments trying to.

Afterthoughts

The themes of morality and humanity go hand in hand with the abuse present in Bungou Stray Dogs, so it was hard avoiding talking about this when it was necessary. I don’t think it’s right of us to judge a character’s path that isn’t finished, in a story that’s nowhere near done. Ultimately, I’m only talking in a place of experience but never will it make me exempt from any personal bias. I tried to be as objective and nuanced as I could about this, and I hope it shows.

Abuse isn’t one of those things that I can analyze from any logical stand point or take resources to back my statements up about abuse. Of course everything I say can be backed up, but abuse is a personal, human matter and we’re just human being trying to figure out more than we can handle. I just couldn’t be comfortable with how people are now choosing to talk about Asagiri and needed to shed some light in what you’re missing.

Now I could’ve gone over Higuchi or Lucy because their stories also involve abuse, but I don’t think I could say anything new about them without repeating points I’ve already said. We know very little about Higuchi and what made her so devoted to Akutagawa, and Lucy is pretty quick to summarize considering her story is just like Atsushi’s. Q is also a character to be brought up but I don’t have enough information on them to say much about any abuse itself that happened.

Yosano was also an option but I don’t think anyone had any trouble understanding her backstory. Well I was only really aiming to speak about what’s not been spoken enough. Thank you for reading haha, god this thing is monstrous. Already got to 14k words by the time I was officially done…. I didn’t know if I wanted to lean into character analysis or just exposition, I hope it’s a good enough mix of both. This took way longer than the 4 days I was planning to write this in.

I was later reminded that I could do a post on how their abilities functioned and reflect on their abuse/traumatic events, but I didn’t think I’d have enough room for that here. It could be a bonus post eventually? I don’t think I did Kyouka enough justice in that aspect, but i’d just be beating myself up again about not making this perfect.

I hope I don’t come off scary or a very serious person? I’m very open to requests or discussions people want to engage in. Oh jeez, I’ll just embarrass myself if I keep talking. Writing this was a bit much, never really liked writing stuff myself. Sorry if glossed over anything, I wanted to stay on topic and not detail into something unnecessary.

The message BSD has is a pretty normal one, but there’s something very special about how it’s written here and I’m happy it exists. Maybe I shouldn’t have made this so long? But there’s so much to express sigh……

[sunnylolli]

Thinking about how the nations, before they ended up in the world we have today, of huge alliances and peace treaties and everything. How little they actually knew of each other beyond hearsay, word of mouth and stereotypes and how hostile a relationship many would have had before they were told: "You can't fight anymore, world peace!" And had to get to know each other beyond fighting, tactics, warfare etc.

And I wrote something for it:

“I’ve never once considered,”

Arthur speaks quietly, solemnly in the wake of a partnership so big, he cannot understand the size of it. Peace across a continent, constitutional truce, something firm, settling them into dormancy.

“-what beauty there was to find in your hands, whenever you weren’t wielding a weapon.”

It’s a quiet remark, something uttered at a cultural exchange conference in New York. Meant for himself and the country in front of him, brandishing embroidered flowers of a vest-piece worn rarely enough for the stitches to look almost as new; If not for the discoloration, the slight fading, that speaks of age.

Mathias meets his gaze strongly, calculating perhaps.

“I have to admit that I never stopped to consider you much either.”

It’s an honest confession, and Mathias doesn’t utter the words any louder than Arthur does.

“You weren’t more than someone to subdue, I didn’t even consider who you might be as a people.”

The nod Arthur bows is a stiff one.

“You were a threat to my life.”

Silence falls to allow the bustling voices of the rest of the union to mingle.

Baby steps for a united world. Communication between people, truce where truce has never been found before.

“What do you have to show for yourself?” Mathias asks.

“That is your own. That is not stolen.”

Arthur meets his eyes, aghast. “I beg your pardon?”

“We all know you’re a bit light fingered. Show me something you made, maybe from around the time I showed up. Who was the runt that always gave me so much trouble?”

Arthur clicks his tongue, but shows him to his own station. He does not have much from before the viking invasion. He had no means to preserve it or keep it on his person.

It was buried, destroyed, stolen or dropped, and it was so rare he had any means to craft more.

But there is one thing.

Something his people dug from the earth of early Saxony and picks it up to show it off.

A cloak clasp, welded of greened bronze.

The shape is wonky and ancient, but it holds firm. The emblem of a tree still roughly outlined, the leaves undistinguishable, but the shape unmistakeable.

Mathias does not move to touch it, he only watches with an air about him that Arthur still cannot quite decode.

He is hard to read. Harder yet to understand and predict.

“Is it a tree?”

Arthur nods. “It is an oak.”

“A specific one?”

Arthur pauses briefly in surprise, before clearing his throat.

“Yes. It’s an old oak tree north of Northumbria. I… It used to be a meeting point for the family in spring and autumn.”

He speaks with his throat tightening and he clear his throat against it once more. Mathias doesn’t look rushed or hurried, he looks on with interest. Eyes alert, face open and relaxed, untainted and Arthur has never looked at him so closely without the remnants of fear clawing at his chest.

His face looks foreign in a way. Uncanny, in its kindness that has never been shown towards him before.

“I think I recognize it, you wore your cloak backwards to hide it under the felt.”

“Yes.” Arthur agrees in surprise. “I- Yes, I did. How did you know that?”

Mathias looks at him with a face that speaks of exasperation.

“I had to watch you, of course I would’ve noticed. The fabric looked awkward, so I figured you wore it backwards.” He explains.

“I just assumed you were as weird as my nobles said you were and brushed it off. It wasn’t my job to tell you how to dress, I just had to make sure you didn’t run away or steal anything. Which, by the way-”

Mathias lifts a hand and gestures around vaguely, a smirk crawling onto his mouth much rounder than it had a few centuries ago.

“-I suppose you never dropped the habit of stealing.”

“Would you stop calling me a thief?”

“Only when you stop being one.”

The cloak clasp is placed lightly back on the booth table where it was sat previously.

“How do you recognize it if you never saw it under the felt?”

Mathias breathes in and turns his eyes skyward in thought. He places one arm on his hip, the vest, embroidered with flowers at the hem, slung over his other.

“I saw it a few times during summer when you left the cloak for the season. I remember seeing it in a pile of your clothes when you were washed up and another time, you had stuck it to a sack you carried around for food scouring. But I think you might have dropped it.”

“Dropped it?”

“Yeah, the following winter you had a cobber pin and wore your cloak normally.”

Arthur looks down, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh. Right…”

“I’m glad you got it back.”

Mathias smiles. “I’ve lost lots of things that had meaning to them. It’s rare to have them dug up again, and even when they are, it’s not often they’re given back.”

And there it is.

The spark of something friendly, a kindling of humanity that neither had ever considered to look for in The Other.

The stranger with a face attached to him. Something unknown and threatening, now revealed to be something familiar. Threatening in his own right, Mathias carries more than a sword or an ax, he carries himself less like a battalion and more like a person.

He carries wit and humor and empathy just like Arthur does it. His person goes beyond his nation, his personality is seperate from the masses.

“I’m sorry about your fleet.” Arthur blurts.

Mathias laughs. Not in a mocking way, but in a humorous way.

“It’s alright! I buried that hatchet long ago.”

Arthur cracks a sheepish smile in return. Unsure of his footing.

“I kind of saw it as retaliation for… You know, the whole conquest I did of you and all. And I’m sorry about that.”

Sheepish or not, Arthur smiles a bit more softly at that. He didn’t think he’d ever get an apology for that, beings like them can’t really expect it with how much fighting there is.

You can’t apologize for something that will come around again sooner or later.

Maybe this time it might count though.

“It’s water under the bridge.”

“Glad we agree.”

He doesn’t forgive him, but he doesn’t need to. Neither of them do.

United Nations might work out afterall.

[echoluvzcatz]

I was today years old when the realization that Sunday's stubbornness (Or determination, depending on how you want to look at it), shows beyond his own words and a part of the Sacerdos set, but also in his kit as a playable character.

Firstly, there's the fact that he uses the Harmonious Choir boss materials. That, in and of itself, is one of his biggest failures. (Although to him, any failure is probably a big failure...)

Yet using the mats from it to level his traces makes him stronger. It makes his buffs better.

It helps him uplift others easier, even if that failure has to stick with him for the ages.

And then we turn to the fact that his BiS set is the Sacerdos' Relived Ordeal set.

That is a reminder of every failure he has gone through across his whole life. One would assume a person would leave their old life behind, including outfit (Especially with one as specific as Sunday's) to move forward. But not Sunday.

He cannot move on from the past. He actively refuses to.

He may be branching out, he may be getting better, but he will never fully let go of what he's done wrong. He will forever keep that guilt with him, and use it for the betterment of others, even if it takes a toll on himself.

The description of each of the pieces is a memory. But none of them are fond.

All of them are a burden of some sort; a weight he has to carry.

Still, he continues forward.

Still, he continues to uplift others, even at the cost of himself.

A bird can shed their damaged feathers, but can the bird itself ever truly change?

~

I genuinely can't believe I didn't realize this sooner. It was RIGHT in my face in the description of the Sacerdos shoes. I saw it explain his determination and ideals, but I totally forgot to compare it to his actual playable kit...

"Only from the mire arise those who trudge and toil. I shall press forward, learning more from my stumbles than my triumphs."

Someone please tell me this makes sense, because it really does in my head. Maybe this is a stretch, but ufhghfh it's so depressing and I'm suing my brain for coming up w/ it

[lauralot89]

in all calmness I must proceed.

good luck with that buddy

Van Helsing returned with extraordinary celerity

I first read this as "extraordinary celery" and was very confused

We must be alone with him when he becomes conscious, after the operation.

wait are you going to operate on him on a blood-soaked floor? Did we know about bacteria at this point? I feel like we did

I'll be quiet, Doctor. Tell them to take off the strait-waistcoat. I have had a terrible dream, and it has left me so weak that I cannot move. What's wrong with my face?

I want you all to know that I'm not crying, but only because I went to a performance of Les Mis last night and I've run out of tears

Quick, Doctor, quick. I am dying! I feel that I have but a few minutes; and then I must go back to death—or worse! Wet my lips with brandy again. I have something that I must say before I die; or before my poor crushed brain dies anyhow.

I mean, not to tell a man dying of brain injuries what to do, but you should probably get to the point a little faster

He was interrupted by a word from the Professor

Guys Renfield has minutes to live

The Acherontia Aitetropos of the Sphinges—what you call the 'Death's-head Moth'

Van Helsing is that really relevant right now

I found myself opening the sash and saying to Him: 'Come in, Lord and Master!'

okay so Renfield has escaped multiple times but apparently has a room with a window he can open, great work Seward

I don't care for the pale people

Well no wonder he hates Dracula

So when He came to-night I was ready for Him. I saw the mist stealing in, and I grabbed it tight. I had heard that madmen have unnatural strength; and as I knew I was a madman—at times anyhow—I resolved to use my power. Ay, and He felt it too, for He had to come out of the mist to struggle with me. I held tight; and I thought I was going to win

at least for now, Renfield had taken Quincey's place as the greatest character in fiction. I do not accept debate.

Also this situation is deadly serious and very sad but can I just point out that Dracula very nearly lost a fistfight to a mortal man, and that's hilarious

listen you jerks, I know time is of the essence but even if you don't have time to apologize to Renfield for not listening him, you could at least thank him for telling you

"May it not frighten her terribly? It is unusual to break into a lady's room!"

Quincey. Quincey, I love you, but you are so stupid.

He dipped the end of a towel in cold water and with it began to flick him on the face

this is again not funny but it also kind of is

It interested me, even at that moment, to see, that, whilst the face of white set passion worked convulsively over the bowed head, the hands tenderly and lovingly stroked the ruffled hair.

It took me entirely too long to realize that Seward is describing Jonathan here, and not what Dracula was doing while he made Mina drink his blood. My brain is slow today.

Go on, friend Arthur. We want here no more concealments. Our hope now is in knowing all.

Little late for that, Professor Van Dumbass

Here I interrupted. "Thank God there is the other copy in the safe!"

oh sure, say that out loud when we don't know where Dracula is

I could not but feel that Art was keeping back something; but, as I took it that it was with a purpose, I said nothing

YOU ARE ALL SO STUPID

God knows that I do not want that you be pained; but it is need that we know all.

too bad you didn't reach that conclusion DAYS AGO

I was bewildered, and, strangely enough, I did not want to hinder him. I suppose it is a part of the horrible curse that such is, when his touch is on his victim.

I'm completely normal about the implications of this

Is it ever explained what the terrible odor that's associated with Dracula is? It's typically described in connection with his breath, so I thought at first they were smelling blood and finding it unpleasant, but from the description of the air in the chapel I think it must go beyond that. Is it the smell of decomposition? But then shouldn't it have been stronger when he was starving than it is now? Is it just stale air that's sat in his lungs for who knows how long? Does the blood he drinks rot inside of him once he's taken whatever he needs of it?

Whilst they played wits against me—against me who commanded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before they were born

I mean it does speak to the collective stupidity of the Crew of Light that Count "Throw Wolves at Everything" Dracula outsmarted them. That's got to hurt.

As it was, he thought that on the attendant's evidence he could give a certificate of death by misadventure in falling from bed.

oh yeah that's believable from his injuries

the very first thing we decided was that Mina should be in full confidence; that nothing of any sort—no matter how painful—should be kept from her.

too little too late, morons

"Because if I find in myself—and I shall watch keenly for it—a sign of harm to any that I love, I shall die!"

"You would not kill yourself?" he asked, hoarsely.

"I would; if there were no friend who loved me, who would save me such a pain, and so desperate an effort!"

Mina is amazing, if only anyone else had even half her sense

but now he does not know our intentions

they're damn lucky Dracula was probably too stupid to read the notes before he burned them

"Friend Quincey is right!" said the Professor. "His head is what you call in plane with the horizon

...do you mean on straight

amazing

Things have been as bad as they can be;

they really haven't, they can get far worse

When it struck him what he said, he was horrified at his thoughtlessness

first time for everything

Listen, as much as I'm glad that you've stopped being fucking idiots and hiding things from each other, now that Mina is mentally connected to Dracula, maybe it would have been better not to have her in the planning session

Now let me guard yourself. On your forehead I touch this piece of Sacred Wafer in the name of the Father, the Son, and——

HEY GENIUS, she has demon blood in her, what did you think would happen

To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone.

I love Jonathan Harker a normal amount. I am completely normal about this. Excuse me while I sob grossly for unrelated reasons.

Taking from his box a piece of the Sacred Wafer he laid it reverently on the earth, and then shutting down the lid began to screw it home, we aiding him as he worked.

you just locked Jesus in a coffin.

I mean, He'd probably be cool with it, but still.

for we knew we had a strong and wily enemy to deal with

help now my stupid brain is imagining Wile E. Coyote as Dracula

Last night he was a frank, happy-looking man, with strong, youthful face, full of energy, and with dark brown hair. To-day he is a drawn, haggard old man, whose white hair matches well with the hollow burning eyes and grief-written lines of his face.

it has been years since I last read this book, and in my head I thought that Jonathan's hair had turned white after the experiences in Transylvania, like over a period of time, from stress. But no, it happened over night because he's such a devoted wife guy that Mina's sorrow damn near killed him

he was in life a most wonderful man. Soldier, statesman, and alchemist—which latter was the highest development of the science-knowledge of his time. He had a mighty brain, a learning beyond compare, and a heart that knew no fear and no remorse.

I am so normal about human Dracula, so very normal

Well, in him the brain powers survived the physical death; though it would seem that memory was not all complete.

so does this mean he's forgotten most/all of his human life? He's literally lost every connection to humanity, even in memory?

Now I'm sad

In some faculties of mind he has been, and is, only a child

that would explain the "throw wolves at the problem" mentality

"I fail to understand," said Harker wearily. "Oh, do be more plain to me! Perhaps grief and trouble are dulling my brain."

No, Jonathan, that's just what dealing with Van Helsing is like

Do we not see how at the first all these so great boxes were moved by others. He knew not then but that must be so. But all the time that so great child-brain of his was growing, and he began to consider whether he might not himself move the box.

it took Dracula four hundred years to figure out he can move things himself. I love him, he's so fucking stupid

Look out for D

why does this amuse me so

He seems to be going the round and may want to see you

Dracula, pounding furiously on the door: Leave my shit alone!

Harker evidently meant to try the matter, for he had ready his great Kukri knife and made a fierce and sudden cut at him.

God bless Jonathan Harker.

The next instant, with a sinuous dive he swept under Harker's arm, ere his blow could fall, and, grasping a handful of the money from the floor, dashed across the room, threw himself at the window.

this mental image is beautiful

We ran over and saw him spring unhurt from the ground.

Really, this is almost a Looney Tunes bit

"You think to baffle me, you—with your pale faces all in a row, like sheep in a butcher's. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You think you have left me without a place to rest; but I have more. My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. Your girls that you all love are mine already; and through them you and others shall yet be mine—my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my jackals when I want to feed. Bah!"

can we talk about how Bram Stoker wrote some of the most badass and iconic dialogue ever for Dracula here and then finished it with BAH!

wait I just realized when Dracula came in he must have seen Jonathan's now white hair and had a moment of confusion about it

That poor soul who has wrought all this misery is the saddest case of all. Just think what will be his joy when he, too, is destroyed in his worser part that his better part may have spiritual immortality. You must be pitiful to him, too, though it may not hold your hands from his destruction.

help I feel unauthorized emotion

I, too, may need such pity; and that some other like you—and with equal cause for anger—may deny it to me!

I need to lie down

Surely God will not permit the world to be the poorer by the loss of such a creature.

I AM COMPLETELY NORMAL

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is for the anon who asked for blankets!

Jaro’s Padawan shivers hard enough to rattle the bench upon which they sit. It is not a physical chill ailing him, but rather a psychic one, and one few could share. He has yet to speak of what the echo contained, but based on the way he sits in a ball, his limbs tucked into his clothing and the hood of his robe up and over his face, Jaro can surmise it was a bad one.

This was supposed to be a simple mission; a diplomatic request to a neutral world to allow a refugee ship to stop and restock before continuing on its path to safety. The planetary leaders agreed so long as the clones remained aboard the Albedo Brave. Cal, having never witnessed Jedi diplomacy up close and personal before, watched proceedings with open and genuine fascination. The delegation handed over a small token of goodwill for Jaro to pass onto the refugees. Naturally, Cal wanted to see the tiny sculpture himself. Intricately carved from wood, it resembled tiny kura flowers, the planet’s symbol of peace. Cal touched it and all sense of him faded into the Force. It was over within seconds, and yet when Cal returned from the echo, pale and trembling, he become completely mute. Catching the sculpture before Cal could throw it away, Jaro gave word to the refugees to land on the planet and led his silent Padawan back to their landing craft. Jaro set the autopilot to take them back to the ship and joined Cal in the troop carrier section. Empty of clones, the lander dwarfs Cal. And Cal is already so small to begin with at just nine years old. Jaro sat with Cal, waited, and still the boy said nothing.

He's never been so silent.

“We will be back on the ship soon,” Jaro tells Cal after the silence grows too heavy.

Their bond, still so fresh, offers little beyond wave after wave of shock. Jaro could probe deeper, but to do so would be an unconscionable breach of trust and privacy. Concern and impatience war within him. He wants to know what has upset Cal so greatly to fix it, and yet the child is surprisingly good at saying nothing. Once they are back on the Albedo Brave, Jaro will get to the bottom of this. He wonders if perhaps a trip to the medical bay might be necessary.

Or perhaps the privacy of Cal’s quarters is all he needs to release whatever it is he’s holding inside.

Cal doesn’t stop shivering when they return to the ship, neither does he respond to any of the clones’ greetings. He falls into place behind Jaro, who nods to the men instead. They return to quarters, where Cal stands, lost, as though his cabin belongs to a stranger, and he fears disturbing anything.

Jaro cannot allow this to go on any longer. He crouches, then kneels, bringing himself as close to Cal’s level as he can. “Padawan, you must not hold this inside. Whatever you saw has upset you. If you speak with me, I may be able to help.”

Nothing.

Perhaps a harsher tactic is required to breach Cal’s wall of silence. “You would tell me if something you saw suggested the refugees would be in danger, yes?”

This earns the scantest of nods.

“So, the echo was not recent?”

This, a shake of the head. The boy is snow white and shivering like he’s standing in a snowstorm. Jaro clasps him by the shoulders and nearly recoils from the chill. He summons Cal’s blanket to his hand from the bed, wrapping it around him. When it fails to have the desired outcome, Jaro plucks the boy and his blanket off the ground. Cal’s head thuds against his shoulder, doll like in its limpness. Truly worried now, Jaro carries Cal into his own quarters where sits Cal on the bed and wraps another blanket around him. The boy sinks into them, the bed practically swallowing him.

“Rest, Padawan,” Jaro says. “Know that you are safe now. If you feel up to it, you can explain later. I am here.”

Lost in the blankets, Cal’s voice is muffled when it emerges. “You shouldn’t give it to them,” he says. “The refugees.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t made to represent peace.” Cal’s shivering worsens. Jaro fetches his spare blanket from the storage drawer beneath his bed. “The carver… Kura flowers were used to poison his enemies. The blooms represent the number of victims.”

Removing the object from his pocket, Jaro counts the blooms. There are twelve in total.

“He didn’t care if they were children. He just wanted them dead.” Cal’s head pops free, eyes red with tears. “Please, Master, please don’t give it to them.”

Jaro puts the item away. “I won’t, I promise.” He reaches over, rubs Cal’s back. “Rest, Cal. I will remain here with you.”

“I can’t get warm,” the tiny boy whimpers. “He left them out in the snow.”

Reaching for the Force, Jaro wraps it around Cal, willing warmth and peace into him. “You are safe. Nothing here will hurt you.”

Huddled in the blankets, Cal nods. Slowly, steadily, he drifts into an uneasy sleep. Jaro gives a quiet order that neither he nor his Padawan are to be disturbed outside of a major emergency.

“Do you require a Healer, General?” It’s his clone commander, Buzz, speaking with him. “I can see if Leafy is – ”

“We are fine, Buzz. I will see you for drills in the morning.”

While Cal sleeps, the refugees restock, their ship resumes its journey, and Jaro sees to it that the kura flower sculpture is ground into dust and burned away to nothing.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Home

Introducing part 2 of stuff that's been rejected from publishers! I hope y'all enjoy :)

As the train station rumbled with movement, I pulled my hoodie over my shoulders and adjusted my mask. Better safe than sorry, my mother always said, and I tended to agree.

Even with the mask, the air reeked of ammonia. It stung my nostrils and made my eyes water. Damn, but I wanted to be back. The gantry was empty, automated stations blinking neon in the hazy air. I hopped over it and continued through, shoes squeaking ever so slightly against the tiles. Rare that the train station was in a train station, I thought.

The clock overhead warned me that it was almost midnight. Whyever they used an analogue clock in this day and age, I did not know. I watched its fourth hand speed towards 13. Just as it struck, the train sped into the station, the lights glinting off it like a kingfisher diving in the mangrove.

Its doors, several tons of solid gold, creaked open to reveal a single man, in a tophat and intricately embroidered vest. “Miss Maya,” he said, by way of greeting. His accent was impossible to place, vaguely refined with a peculiar emphasis on the sybilants. 

I stepped into the train and returned his nod. We had met before, and courtesy never hurt. “Hama. Being daring today, aren't we? Sitting in an empty carriage?”

Hama shrugged. “Please, Miss Maya, do not fret over me like a hen. I am careful,” he told me. Unlike you went unsaid.

Maya and Hama were not our real names, of course. Those were far too valuable to hand out to another. But they were close enough for both our purposes.

I sank myself into the soft cushion. “Don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't have risked it, careful or not. You've heard what happened to the poor bastards who got caught by it, haven't you?”

Hama sighed. “Yes, but ‘twas almost midnight,” he explained, a hint of melancholy in his dry voice. “I was thinking of the rumours.” Beneath us, the train rumbled into motion, grinding gears and pumping steam.

“The rumours, huh?” We had all heard of them. They were lies, of course. The idea that the midnight train held any special powers was… Tempting. “You should've known how dangerous believing that crap is.”

Hama just shook his head. Briefly, I regretted chiding him. These train rides were long infuriating, and often dreary beyond belief. Having someone willing to talk with me was worth a lot sometimes.

“I'm sorry, Hama,” I said, when the pause between us stretched too long. “You don't need the reminder, do you?”

Quietly, he said, “‘Tis just- Do you not miss it?”

I froze. We did not speak of it. Nobody with half a grain of sense did. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it.

“I have not seen it in five years, Miss,” he continued. “My wife will be old and wrinkled by the time I get home. My sons will have grown up. My daughter would be married, without me to give her my blessings. Do you know what that feels like, Miss Maya? To watch the world go by?”

I swallowed the knot in my chest, and said, “I know. Believe me, I do.”

Hama ran his fingers through his overgrown hair. “How long has it been for you? You are so young, I cannot imagine it has been more than three years.”

“Two,” I said, quietly enough that my voice was swallowed by the train.

Hama had sharp ears, however. “Two years? Your formative years, then. That is a travesty,” he informed me with avuncular concern.

A laugh bubbled out of my chest. It sounded just like the ammonia in the station I had just departed from, sting-sharp and hateful. “Not two years,” I replied, grimly amused.

“Two decades.”

He blinked. “You hardly look a day over sixteen,” he told me, finally. “It simply cannot be.”

“Have you not noticed? We do not age here. My hair has not grown an inch since the day I began wandering. Our wounds do not heal. Old Akat died from blood loss after she stepped on a nail. So believe me when I say, I too am careful.” The last words emerged in a hiss, barely more than the steam that powered our train.

“I- Twenty years? I cannot imagine how painful that must be, and with you so young. You poor-” The squealing of the train's halt cut off the rest of his words, sparing me the pain of telling him about the lonely nights, the shivering desperation that had festered in my heart, the slow death of a hope that should never have existed in the first place.

The doors swung open, and I fled out. The lands beyond were smoggy, thick with mist and carbon monoxide. Yet I could see the telltale signs of suburbia beyond. They reminded me of the days before, and it twisted the knife Hama had stabbed my bruised heart with. So I snapped, with a childish vengefulness, “And there's no such thing as a way back!”

The doors clanged shut firmly on my back, and Hama left with them. It was dangerous to be on a train alone, of course, but he had willingly taken that risk in the name of what… A rumour? That the midnight train would take you home?

Foolishness, I insisted, and tried to ignore the way the streetlights looked just the way they had twenty years ago. The streets were so similar, too. There were the potted plants lining the sidewalks, forcing me to walk on the roads home. There were the birdcages and the washing machines beneath crowded canopies.

The tracks disappeared behind me, leaving me exactly where I had left twenty years ago. The road signs were identical. I was on the right street, too. Just a short way away from a house I had once resided in.

It was absurd, of course. Once you wandered, you would never find your way home again. Everyone knew that.

Still, the worm of hope gnawed at the apple core of my soul. I kicked a stone angrily, as though that would chase the emotion away. It did not, and I continued striding grimly.

But if I truly believed I could not go home, why did I continue wandering? Why not settle down like Haru did, in some strange town with four-eyed people? Why not make a new place to live and call… Well, a place to live. I could not bring myself to say the word, even after all those years away.

That house was different, I noted with fierce satisfaction. There had never been a house with a green roof in the past. That settled it, of course. My paranoia was simply acting up again.

Yet- a lot could change in two decades. It might even have been more than that, for all I knew. I had met a wanderer who forgot their own name, once. A couple of years could have easily gone amiss.

Before I could banish the niggling thought, my over-sharp eyes caught the next house's number. 542. Just a short distance from my old ho- habitat.

Damn, but I wanted to go back. 

What could it hurt? If I went there and proved to myself I was not, in fact, back, I could put the irritant to rest once and for all. My feet took me along the path I had once taken back from school. Or a close mimicry of it, at least.

I came upon the house sweating slightly. Not out of excitement. I merely wanted to get it over and done with, to rid myself of this compulsion.

The lawn was slightly overgrown, utterly unlike how my father would have left it. The roof had more than a few tiles that needed replacing. Our swing was there, but the rope was fraying. The fault of time, or a sloppy trap.

The lights were on. Warm light shone through the windows. I could here people moving about, eating and chatting and doing whatever it was people did in their locations of staying. I had almost forgotten how such things went, with no need to eat or drink.

It was probably a trap, a lie, or one of those odd coincidences that occurred sometimes. Pressing that doorbell, which looked nothing like my old one, was a ridiculous idea. Yet my finger was drawn to it like a moth to flame.

The bell rang like the train's whistle.

With the scuffing of chairs and curious exclamations, the door swung open. An old woman, her skin wrinkled with liver spots, stood on the other side. “Eh?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

Before common sense could take over, I pulled down my hoodie and took off my mask, baring my face to the world. 

The woman made a small choking noise. “M- May-”

“Maya,” I said quickly, the way I told the strangers I met on my wanderings. “Call me Maya.” What she would call me had I not interrupted, I did not want to know.

“Oh.” She deflated slightly. Her ugly flower-print dress did remind me of my mother's sense of fashion. “You remind me of my daughter, was all. Though you're much too young to be her. Ah, what was the matter?”

I froze. What was I to say: ‘Hello, I have been frozen in time for twenty years wandering world to world and boy, you sure look like my mother aged up by two decades'? 

The silence stretched on. It was doing a lot of that recently, I noted. “You remind me of my mother, too,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper, not needing the train's clanging to drive it underground. “Though it has been twenty years since I last saw her.”

The woman who looked awfully like my mother stared into my eyes. “James? Come here. There's something you need to see,” she cried, in lieu of something better to say.

James was my father's name too. Another funny coincidence. The old man who wheeled himself to the door had an uncanny semblance to him too, though my real father would never have ended up in a wheelchair.

He looked up and me and let a little gasp out. “It- Oh my god, it can't be. Allison, are you seeing this?”

My mother had been named Allison. I was reminded of another one of her favourite sayings. ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.’ This had to be a trap. Yet, for some reason, I could not bring myself to leave.

The woman who could not possibly be my mother told him, “She says her name is Maya.”

He regarded me thoughtfully. “What's your favourite juice, kid? And who were your best friends in primary five?”

“I'm torn between apple and grape juice, and my closest friends were Betty and Qi Le, though I hung out with Josh a lot too,” I answered promptly, before cursing myself. What was I doing, handing out private information? That was how wanderers got caught! “Go on, tell me: what did your daughter make for you for science class when she was 10?”

Allison and James, my parents' doppelgangers, exchanged another concerned glance. “I’ll do you one better than that,” Allison told me. She reached back into the room and brought out a little clay dragonfly. “This was a part of the set yo- I mean, she made. The larvae and the eggs are lost, but we kept this.”

I did not know whether to laugh or weep. It was green. The one I had made was blue. Oxidation, a part of me whispered. Lies, the other bit cried. “Yep,” I whispered. “That's the one.”

“You had best come inside,” James said, his motorised wheelchair whirring slightly as he backed into the kitchen. My father was braver than that. He would not back away from discomfort. “Would you like some apple juice?”

“Oh, I don't really eat or drink anymore.” I smiled bitterly at their horrified expressions and stepped past Allison into the room. “It all comes right back up again.”

I had tried, of course. I had gulped down water from a dozen streams, begged food off of strange people and taped my mouth shut to keep it down. No matter what I did, my intestines simply rejected it. I could never feel full. I could never feel hungry. I had learnt to accept it long ago, but I could never feel truly alive.

I took up my old place at the table, in the corner next to the old bookshelf. It was still there, though its contents were devoid of all my young adult romances. “What are you?” Allison had a slight roundness to her eyes. Fear. I felt the same when she clenched her fist up. Old though she was, even a single blow from her had the potential to kill me.

“I am a girl who walked into a strange train station in the middle of the street twenty years ago, and wandered for two decades since,” I told her bluntly. It was the same line I gave all my hosts. “How are Qi Le and Betty?”

My mother's brow crinkled and she blinked away a couple of tears. “Is it really you? I- I mean- It's been so long, and you haven't aged a bit. You know, Qi Le's got a little boy. He's hardly younger than you were when you…” She shrugged.

“Wandered off,” I finished. I crossed my arms. “Qi Le would never have a kid. She's deathly afraid of pregnancy. So the question remains: How do I know it's really you?” I glanced down at her leg, the skirt covering her calf. “Still have your tattoo?”

It might have been better to walk off there and then. Damn, but I wanted to go back. I actually wanted to be back on my train and my endless worlds. “Of course it's me,” Allison snarled, sharper than my mother ever would have at me. “And Qi Le adopted, for heaven's sakes! You're the one who doesn't eat or drink, who hasn't blinked since you came in, and whose expression barely changes!”

“Your tattoo,” I repeated. I had come to terms with what I was long ago. It was… tolerable. 

My ‘mother’ went peculiar. Her face slackened and eyes went blank, like a marionette without a puppeteer. I got up and began walking to the door. Of course it was a lie. Twenty years wandering, and I still had the foolishness to believe rumours? I was worse than Hama.

“Maya, right?” My ‘father’ waved to me from his place in the kitchen, as I crossed the door's threshold. “Pardon your mother. We aren't so young anymore, kiddo. The stress has been a bit too much for her.” He wheeled himself up the ramp, which had not been there when I last at my house, and gently prodded Allison. She jerked herself back upright and inhaled sharply.

“I’m fine,” my ‘mother’ snapped. “And as for my tattoo, I had it removed. My wrinkling skin was ruining it. It's been twenty years, Mayra. Twenty years, and you haven't aged a day. What the hell happened to you?”

Mayra was my name. Or, it had been many years ago. “I don't know,” I admitted. “It just did.” What was I even doing here? On the tiny, tiny off chance that this was real, it would only hurt me. “Qi Le's got a kid? What's he like?” 

With the same exhaustion that permeated her entire being, my mother sighed. “Here, take this and phone her.” She handed me a little metal slide.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I shook it slightly. “And where's the cordless? It was dope.” I had been so proud of the old thing.

“Oh, sweetie,” James said. “It's been twenty years. Things have changed since then. Phones are smaller these days, and they're all cordless.” He took the phone from me and tapped on it.

That settled it. I had seen my fair share of strange technologies, and nothing from the world I once came from looked even slightly like this. Even so, I accepted the phone when James returned it, and pressed it to my ear.

“Hey, QL,” I said, when she picked up the call. “It's me.”

There was nothing but static on the other end. Finally, she responded, sniffling slightly as she did so. “If this is a prank, it's not a very good one. Mayra died a long time ago, but that doesn't make it alright to joke about it.” Her voice was so husky, so unlike her.

“It's me,” I repeated. “Did you get to go with Kyle to prom?”

Qi Le took a shuddering breath. “Where have you been, you idiot? And no, Kyle went with Gwen. You know, the stupid mean girl in our class? Yeah, and she's the CEO of some big shot company now. Kyle married a man. I got to go to their wedding. Damn it, I spent three years hunting all over the country for you. Your parents- They cried themselves to sleep every night. How could you?”

There had never been a Gwen in our class. Had my memory failed me, or was this a lie that swept by? And Kyle- Kyle who always talked about girl's looks? Ridiculous. I listened to her tirade silently. “Hey- Mayra, you still there? I'm sorry, it's just been a long day. Kai got detention, you know, and God, I'm just so worried about him.”

“Kai's your son?” The idea of Qi Le, ever the rebel, being upset over her kid getting detention seemed hypocritical to me. 

“Yeah,” she admitted. “He's a little brat, but he tries his best. He goes to the school that replaced ours. Where are you? I'll come pick you up. We can chat in person. That is, if you want.”

“Tell me something first,” I murmured into the phone. “What was my last name?”

Qi Le scoffed. “It's been two decades, May. I don't remember things as good as I used to. Also, you still sound like a kid.” She exhaled loudly. “It was Brown, wasn't it? Mayra Brown.”

“Hmm,” I replied, noncommittal. “Mom? Pops?’

The people who called themselves my parents perked up. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“What's our last name?”

My father laughed. “Have you forgotten all that already? It's Brown. You used to say it was the colour of your hair.”

I smiled wanly. “QL? You still there?” The vague sound of water came from the phone.

“Yeah, just gotta wash the dishes. You need me to pick you up?” I could picture her, wearing gloves up to her elbows to protect her overly sensitive skin. The motherly tone in her voice matched nothing I ever remembered, however.

Damn, but I wanted to go… Home.

There. I said it. I missed home. I missed the world I had once lived in. I missed my family, my school and my friends. Perhaps, just perhaps, this had been home once. Certainly, if I squinted, it looked similar enough. But my friends had grown up, my school was torn down, my parents old and withered. 

The home I remembered was no more. But I could start over, just like Haru and Venn and all the other wanderers who had settled down. 

“No,” I said. “It's fine. I'm already home. Thanks for everything. Tell Betty to keep grooving, and hopefully without those fugly bell jeans.” Before she could respond, I hung up.

Turning to my parents, I threw my arms around my mother, then bent down to hug my father. “If you really are my parents,” I whispered, just loud enough to hear, “Then I'm grateful to see you again.”

With the same caution I had thrown to the wind earlier, I disentangled myself from them. They smelled different, of pills and age. My mother brushed my cheek slightly. “Come on, Mayra, and tell us everything.”

“Alright,” I said, and allowed myself to be led back home.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finickyfelix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @oliolioxenfreewrites (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[kurishiri]

06 . . . main story

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: presence of a gun, mental breakdown, torture.

Elbert: ......Could you stop?

With just a few words from Lord Elbert, the room grew deathly silent.

Elbert: Touching her, criticizing her… please stop that.

Hearing those words from him was a shock.

(Lord Elbert... must have understood that their actions were very intentionally meant to harm.)

Not only me, but himself.

(Even so, what is the reason he simply accepts them as is?)

(Why does he just take it all, even though he tries to protect me?)

Elbert ...Please.

When Elbert murmured that, the gentleman let go of my hand.

Middle-aged gentleman: ...If you say so, Elbert, I suppose it cannot be helped.

White-haired lady: I apologize, that may have been a little uncouth of me. I will be careful from now on.

Green-eyed lady: Let us meet again, Elbert. In a quiet place no one can interrupt, that is.

The people who were surrounding Lord Elbert tried to leave.

It is not the first time—

In the corner of my mind, I remembered Alfons’ voice.

(This isn’t the end either. When they meet again, they’ll do the same thing again...)

Kate: W-wait.

Knowing that, I couldn’t just stay silent and see them off.

Kate: If it’s possible, could you treat him the same way you treat me?

Elbert: ... [surprised]

Middle-aged gentleman: ...What you are saying is beyond me.

Kate: I’m saying that you could greet him more normally...

White-haired lady: ...Don’t get full of yourself. You are naught but a stranger; do not speak with me ever again.

With those scathing words, their shadows left.

My words had not reached them, and that was truly frustrating.

Elbert: Kate...

Kate: ...I’m sorry, even though I don’t know your circumstances, I did something out of turn.

Elbert: ...No... you have no need to apologize.

E: Rather, I apologize for making you see that... I’m sorry.

Kate: But, it’s not your fault...

Elbert: ... [surprised]

Before I knew it, I had become desperate.

Kate: Things like admiration, or love... those are not justifiable reasons to push their selfish desires onto you.

K: Can I ask why, didn’t you resist?

Elbert: ......I’m used to it. And...

For a moment, Elbert turned toward the people who had left.

Elbert: With that distance, one careless move and... I would have stepped into their shadows.

E: I don’t want to do that to them.

(...No way.)

I don’t know what sort of relationship or deep circumstance Lord Elbert has with them, but...

Their actions were almost like they were playing with a bisque doll that could not talk.

That’s why, I couldn’t see where Lord Elbert’s consideration for them was coming from, no matter what.

(If I were in his shoes, I would have gone crazy to the point I couldn’t sleep... however.)

——While accepting such poor behavior, he had a fear of making others sad.

Kate: Lord Elbert, you...

K: ...are too kind.

Elbert: ...That’s not true.

Kate: No, it is.

Elbert: ...

E: ...As I thought, I am not kind.

E: Like now, I’ve made you sad.

His face still pale, Lord Elbert lips tugged into a smile.

It was so beautiful that it was sad, and I couldn’t return his smile.

Alfons: I apologize for interrupting. The host has arrived.

Kate: ...!

We were to make contact with this criminal organization which collected goods using immoral means and sold them.

Upon hearing Alfons’ words, I reminded myself of today’s objective and strained myself.

Alfons: From here, the host will begin explaining the goods in a loud voice...

A: ...and the collectors will think about which ones they want to take for their own, become worked up, and expose their wretched desires.

A: And within that, to catch his eye... Lord Elbie, this is where you come in.

Elbert: ...Right.

At last, the silhouette of a man appeared in the center of the hall and gave the guests a respectful bow.

(So that’s... the art dealer host of the party?)

Host in a silk hat: Everyone, I apologize for the long wait.

Host in a silk hat: Here, I will introduce to you the world’s most beautiful goods, which I have traveled all over the continent to collect.

Alfons: Haha, just what evil deeds has he committed traveling all over the continent to get his hands on those, I wonder.

Elbert: ...

The art dealer’s voice was loud and clear as he started introducing the goods.

As he did, the color of dark attachment seemed to overshadow Lord Elbert’s eyes.

Host in a silk hat: Here, we have a stuffed bird with the voice of all seven colors! Of course, its appearance is also one of the most beautiful.

Seeing the stuffed bird whose golden wings were quietly closed, people admired it with a raised voice, saying it was “beautiful.”

Elbert: Al. Is that, beautiful...?

Alfons: Let’s see. Perhaps the curve of its beak is the only thing that is beautiful?

Elbert: ...Then, I don’t need it.

...is what he said, but Lord Elbert’s eyes never left the goods the art dealer was introducing.

It seemed more than anyone else in the room, his eyes were the ones that were sparkling most earnestly, greedily.

(Lord Elbert... seems like a different person.)

(Even though the only reason we were to attend this party at all was for a mission,)

(it almost seems as though he wanted the goods as well, closely inspecting them...)

The doubts floating about in my mind were drowned out by the growing voices in the venue.

Host in a silk hat: Oh my. It appears everyone here has good tastes. See, this painting here is a bit special...

The audience’s line of sight followed the art dealer, who was introducing a certain painting.

The painting that was being admired by everyone as “the most beautiful” was a painting of the sea—

(Indeed, it is very pretty...)

The image amid the stormy sea’s swelling waves, light poked through, or rather shot through was clearly depicted.

The surging sea that swallowed anything in its path was as beautiful as it was scary.

Elbert: ...I want that.

Alfons: Apologies. That is what Lord Elbert wants.

The moment Alfons said this to the art dealer, the venue broke out with noise.

But, when they saw Lord Elbert, they fell back into silence.

Man with a monocle: Hm. I, too, wanted it... but if he wants it, I have no complaints.

Girl with chestnut-colored hair: If he is the one that has it, surely that painting will be happy as well.

Host in a silk hat: Is there anyone else who would like it? ...It seems not. Well then, this painting goes to—

???: Wait!!

(...!?)

All of a sudden, there was an angry voice, and a thin man entered the hall, shaking off the guards.

Thin man: That painting is mine...! It was stolen from my shop...!!

Elbert: ! Kate, get down.

Kate: !?

There was no time to be surprised, as my vision was obstructed by Lord Elbert’s back.

Guest: Kyaaa!!!

Right after the sound of a gunshot echoed through the room, and a cry broke out.

(What is going on!? Who is that man...?)

Elbert: Over here.

Kate: Okay...!

Lord Elbert was positioned in a way he could protect me, and he moved to the shadows of a large pillar.

Elbert: Wait here... a little.

Lord Elbert hid me in the pillar’s shadow before stepping back into the venue.

(Eh...?)

Kate: Where are you going?

Elbert: ...To get the painting.

There was no hesitation as Lord Elbert approached the man holding a gun.

Thin man: W-who are you... Stop right there! I’ll shoot!

Elbert: Calm down...

Thin man: Shut up! Oy, you over there, hand that over!!

Host in a silk hat: Guh...!

When the man snatched the painting of the sea from the art dealer,

he pointed the gun at Lord Elbert and the art dealer, he tried to back away, trembling.

Elbert: ...

(He’s so close to the gun that one shot will kill him. ...I have to help him—)

Alfons: Please don’t leave your spot. If you died, it would be quite troublesome.

At some point, Alfons had come beside me, his usual smile on his lips as he looked at Lord Elbert.

Kate: But Alfons, if we don’t do anything, Elbert will—!

Alfons: Your worry is unfounded. Like you, I also don’t wish for Elbie to die.

Kate: ? What do you...

Elbert: Would you mind, handing me that painting?

When Lord Elbert asked with a low, calm voice, the man turned toward him, still in a state of panic.

Thin man: ...! This is! This is mine!!

Elbert: I see...

E: So, I have no other choice.

Lord Elbert took a step toward the man, who was clinging onto the painting.

It was a quiet, slight movement, like the approaching waves.

Thin man: W-what...? This...

The man then staggered back, head in hands.

(Ah... could it be...)

When I looked at the surface of the floor between Lord Elbert and the thin man—

The tip of Lord Elbert’s shoe was on the man’s shadow.

Thin man: Ugh... s-stop, don’t come near me!

Elbert: ...Could you please not run away?

When the man tried to distance his shadow, Lord Elbert followed after.

One step, after another—

The way he stepped toward the man was very quiet, but the man’s expression kept growing more painful.

Thin man: ...U, ugh... AHH!?

Thin man: No... It isn’t... it isn’t my fault that they died...!!

Thin man: Destroying an entire inn just to swindle this painting... it isn’t fair...

(...Destroying... an entire inn?)

—— Flashback ——

Daisy: But, the owner really likes that ‘painting of the sea’ by some famous painter from Russia or somewhere around there.

D: He tried to make it his own, but the bad guys figured out about it that night.

—— End flashback ——

(Could it be this man is... the owner of the inn Daisy was at?)

The thin man was at last on his knees, and trying to subdue his voice, he started crying.

Elbert: ...

Lord Elbert took the painting from the man, who was now weakly drooping.

(Lord Elbert...)

His face was slightly downwards, his blond locks hiding it, so I couldn’t read his expression.

(Even though he fears making even the people who have hurt him sad...)

(Even if that man was a ruffian, I couldn’t imagine him using his ability like that without feeling a thing.)

He is surely wearing a sad expression as if his chest was deeply hurting.

——That’s what I thought, at least.

Alfons: It seems he has no more energy left in him. Would you like to go out now?

Kate: ...Lord Elbert!

Without thinking, I ran up to him and peeked at his face—

—and I lost my words.

Elbert: ...I’m so glad this painting wasn’t scratched.

E: Perhaps it could be what I’ve been looking for.

Lord Elbert paid absolutely no attention to the sobbing man as he stared at the painting, a smile on his face.

With a feeling of disbelief, I stared at that smile.

(This... is...)

(Is this person truly—)

(—the Lord Elbert I know...?)

While I was standing there, dumbfounded, the guards had come to take the thin man away.

The guests, too, were in a state of confusion and, as though competing to be the first one out, they left the venue.

Amid that, the art dealer approached before Lord Elbert, a radiant smile on his face.

Host in a silk hat: Thanks to you, the painting is saved. Please, by all means, take this painting.

Host in a silk hat: And—

Elbert: ...Alright.

Lord Elbert nodded at the art dealer’s words, which were whispered in his ear, and in high spirits, the art dealer left the venue as well.

Elbert: ...Kate?

Kate: ...!

I had been standing there, dumbfounded by the scene I witnessed, when Lord Elbert’s voice brought me back to myself.

Elbert: What’s wrong? You looked like you were in a daze.

Kate: No, I’m fine... What were you talking to the art dealer about just now?

Elbert: Ah... he was offering a personal deal.

Alfons: In other words, he was scheming to make Lord Elbie, who has no eye for beautiful things, into a client.

A: If that art dealer is a member of that organization, the mission is a big success. Isn’t that great?

(‘Great’, huh...)

Indeed, if that man from before was indeed the owner of the inn Daisy was at, it was likely that art dealer was a member of the Bernard Company.

As such, the mission to get close to a member of the company was, as Alfons said, a big success.

(But...)

When I saw the smile on Lord Elbert’s face just now, the uneasiness I felt stuck inside my chest, with little hope of fading away.

← prev next →

his side story →

˗ˏˋ full masterlist ´ˎ˗ 🍎✨

[ur-fairy-of-mimicry]

A random thought came to my mind. If ranked, which of the Specialists is the best to the worst cook?

This is my opinion, from best to worst:

Brandon, Helia, Riven, Timmy, Sky

Okay, let me explain why I see it this way. And I'll try not to make it too long. ^^"

Brandon

For me, Brandon is the best at cooking. He knows each and every dish in Magix and aces them perfectly. Everybody loves Brandon's cooking, and they are always excited whenever he's in the kitchen.

I've seen a headcanon where Brandon lived in a large family, so I'm going to add that in because I can visualize it a lot. Brandon is probably the second or third eldest, so he's definitely tasked to take care of his siblings.

Being Prince Sky's squire means protecting him from any sorts of dangers, but he wouldn't mind cooking a good meal for the prince. I mean, isn't that what a good squire does for his master?

This man just wants to see people smile with his cooking skills. It makes him happy, too, as they remind him of his beloved family.

Helia

I gotta say, Helia definitely has some skills in cooking, too! As much as they taste very good, Brandon just surpassed him. They'd be in a cooking competition and the squire will still win. It's not like his minds, though. Helia isn't really into home economics in the first place.

Despite that, Helia still has his artistic skills! Therefore he's very good at plating and he is a veteran at making dishes looking appealing. Helia loves to cut the fruits and vegetables into different shapes.

Even if he's second best cook, Helia is still happy to be able to cook. There are times where he and Brandon cooperate. And the outcome? It's incredible and beyond words.

Riven

Riven here is just in the middle. He's a decent cook, and that's enough as long as he can live. Unlike Brandon and Helia, his dishes are rather simple. The two above would cook the fancy and extravagant, but this guy here would prefer easy and quick. But of course, they need to be tasty.

Don't underestimate him, though! Riven here has some knife skills! I headcanon that he's very good with chopping and cutting things, and people will just be watching him with a shocked Pikachu face.

Overall, he's not really considering cooking as a hobby. But whenever there are some good cook books (remember, Riven is a bookworm!), he's definitely reading them and try out the given recipes. So, maybe you'll spot him in the kitchen every now and then.

Timmy

I don't really see Timmy as the kind of person who cooks, honestly. It's a headcanon of mine where he enjoys to-go meals and salads. He doesn't really cook, so Timmy doesn't have the skills either. He's busy with his daily technologies and calculations, so it's somewhat of an excuse for him why he cannot cook.

But like mentioned, Timmy likes salads. He may not be very good at cooking in general, but he does know what is healthy and unhealthy for the body. Whenever Brandon asks what they'd like to eat, Timmy will choose a Ceasar salad and proceed to explain its benefits and vitamins.

It might seem lazy for him to refuse to try cooking, but he still got the brains! If you need some advice for healthier meals, this guy is a great help. He might as well suggest healthy diets, and you'll never regret it.

Sky

... bro, isn't it obvious? He's a prince. Everything is literally served out for him. He probably never walked inside a kitchen in his whole life when he was still in the palace. I doubt he actually knows a thing.

Despite lacking knowledge about cooking, Sky does like to observe. He would chat with one of the Specialists (mostly Brandon) while watching him cook today's breakfast. Sky would definitely be willing to try, however it usually results to the Red Fountain kitchen burning to ashes...

When he actually succeeds cooking without burning the kitchen, the next problem is its appearance. It doesn't really look appealing to the eyes and when tasted, it's... ambiguous. But hey, at least he's trying!

[scoundrels-in-love]

30 Years Old Achievement Unlocked!

Usually, I had a Follow Forever post ready for my birthday, as a thank you for filling my dash and heart with blorbos and fun this year, but today I decided to have a bit more introspective one, looking over the last decade offline and almost same time that I've had on Tumblr. As a reminder for myself and maybe it can give some encouragement to others that are going through the slog of their twenties.

But first, yes, a thank you to people that have deeply shaped this decade, with their presence and sometimes, their absence. I can't ping the person I miss the most, it doesn't reach across the fog that clouds the way beyond the final goodbye, the parting that cannot be spoken, but I can ping the people who helped me stay on this side of the mist, in the aftermath. (In vague alphabetic order.) Thank you for everything, for being there for me through thick and thin, however you're capable, thank you for being you.

@aviss @bienchanter @binary5tar @carrot--cube @cup-ah-jho @deenakahara @fiovske @firesign23 @it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined @justdontevenknow @kdramaxoxo @lostindramas @mesoperi @sdwolfpup @spacepandar @tazzmanien @youholdthewater @zigackly

Also a special thank you, you are amazing and have done for me more than I can explain, to wonderful people of Trigun fandom. You made this year bearable, you pushed me to create more than I have in ages not with violence, but your love for what I had to share. And many of you have become friends I hope to keep for the forthcoming decade!

@aluvian @cosmixseerart @chickiefoo @dingusttmax @fionnrose @ladymaliwan @needle-noggins @noaafishfieldguide @kiaraalazulu @koontyme @madnessmadness @tardisready @zeearts @zillychu

I am definitely forgetting someone in these pings and I will blame it on my old age (just 3% of my entire lifespan, though!) and I am sending all the lovely people I talk with, who interact with my posts and so forth, people I follow, so much love (and Irish coffee cream cake).

Now, onto some loving achievements of the decade:

Survived and accepted my neurodivergence, began to start to accomodate for it and seek help for doing so.

Began participating in fandom.

Published over 170k words for various fandoms.

Learned to gif.

Realized I have checked the box 'No' on sexual & romantic attraction and gender starter package slip.

Conceptualized designs for my tattoos.

Dyed and bleached my hair for the first time. Figured out I like it short.

Continued to develop my style and grow more comfortable with my body and appearance.

Got Wolverine arm implants after I broke it badly.

Left my country and saw a band I love live.

Saw my internet friends in person for the first time.

Sailed on a boat and stood on the edge of sea at midnight, crying from happiness.

Finished education and kept job despite health issues.

Started playing DnD and even DMd a little.

Made my friends laugh so often I lost count.

Laughed often myself.

Took so many photos of things I love.

Learned so many cool animal facts.

Heard new favorite songs and continued to love old ones.

Read things that changed something in my very soul.

Wrote something that inspired a fanart and podfic.

And more and more and more. There is always more, more things that you and I can ever predict, more sorrows, yes, but more joys as well. And I think, looking back at 20 year old me, I'd say... It was worth sticking around for.

So, for the next life year and decade I want to say I'll try to:

Continue learning being kinder to myself, accept my limitations and accomodate them.

Write, write, write.

Take so much more photos.

Laugh until I cry more often.

Make people wheeze.

Travel more and especially to the seaside.

There always will be more to do, but I like these goals.

Thank you again, for everything, and here's to the next year, next decade and next lifetime.

[tomorrowxtogether]

Soobin Is Leading TOMORROW X TOGETHER with Positivity

The leader of TXT opens up about the group's current chapter

This week, in compliment with our TOMORROW X TOGETHER cover story, we’ll be rolling out individual spotlights on each member of the K-pop act. Today, we spend some time with the group’s leader, Soobin. Don’t forget to get your copy of the limited edition magazine collector’s box featuring six exclusive TXT covers and more at the Consequence Shop.

Soobin, the leader of TOMORROW X TOGETHER, is a very tall young man. Most of the members of the group tower over their peers in the K-pop world — three of the band members clear six feet — and Soobin has them all beat.

Sitting in a hotel room in Osaka, Japan, it’s almost as if Soobin, cozy in black sweatpants and a matching T-shirt, is unaware of this fact. With his stature, he could presumably be intimidating if he wanted to be; instead, he’s unfailingly polite and remarkably sweet. He bows to shake my hand as he sits down, offering an off-the-record recommendation for an anime on Netflix as we get comfortable. Soobin is soft-spoken enough that the interpreter in the room with us sometimes has to lean in to catch his responses. He dips his head again when he gets up at the end of our conversation.

“I’m not usually the talkative type,” he says, smiling shyly. “I don’t know how to make things flowery and eloquent.”

According to his bandmates, though, Soobin’s leadership strength isn’t dependent on locution. “Soobin is in charge of communications, and we can look into each other’s eyes when we are rehearsing and tell just from that how we’re feeling,” fellow TXT member Taehyun explains. For the group, the concept of communication extends beyond public-facing comments and speaking responsibilities.

At 22 years old, Soobin is not the oldest member of the group — that would be 23-year-old Yeonjun — but when TXT debuted in 2019, he was introduced to the world as the leader nonetheless. This is not uncommon in K-pop, as this title and its responsibilities often have more to do with personality than age. Soobin seems to be a generally agreeable person who is comfortable with taking a backseat a lot of the time, as he does when his bandmates are in the room the day we all meet.

That laid back attitude extends to his downtime, as well. In the past, a day off for Soobin would involve a lot of “watching animation lying down.” Recently, though, free time means spending the day with friends, catching up on movies, or going swimming. He’s also trying to become a better cook; one of his more recent endeavors was dakbokkeumtang, a Korean dish of braised spicy chicken.

He strives for improvement onstage as well, growing more confident in areas he used to find more challenging. Particularly after completing TXT’s first world tour (2022’s “ACT: LOVE SICK”), Soobin says he’s noticeably refined his public speaking: “I feel so grateful to our fans and I feel so happy during the tour, but I always get nervous at the end when I’m talking,” he notes. “But, recently, I realized my words and speeches became more organized.” He laughs. “I think I became kind of cool.”

With his bandmates, however, coolness also means knowing when to hold things back. Despite the closeness between the members of TXT, Soobin reveals that he tries not to add more pressure on the members than is absolutely necessary. “There are actually things that I cannot tell my members because they’re my members,” he explains. “Being the leader, I sometimes worry about things that could make them feel pressured, and with such things, I tend to open up to my other friends.”

That includes adding to the weight of their upcoming headlining slot at Lollapalooza; but, rather than focus on the immensity of the stage, he’s reveling in the excitement these days. Soobin happily recalls that when he first told his songwriter and producer friends about their 2022 appearance at the festival, “They said, ‘I’m so jealous, it’s driving me crazy… But it was a cute jealousy. This time, when we heard the news that we were headlining, I couldn’t wait to tell them.”

As effortless as Soobin may appear as a performer, there’s no doubt he and the TXT team have put in the hard work to earn that Lollapalooza billing. Beyond detailed rehearsals, all the members are involved behind the scenes of the group’s ever-evolving musical direction, too. Soobin has a songwriting credit on the group’s most recent album, the bouncy, bright “Happy Fools” featuring Coi Leray, while “Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock)” and “Farewell, Neverland” are described by the members as group efforts thematically. The band’s longtime studio collaborator, HYBE producer Slow Rabbit, calls Soobin and his bandmates “pioneers for the next generation of artists and fans, especially for Gen Z.”

To Soobin, his ability to connect with people stems from the fact that he grew up a K-pop fan long before becoming a K-pop idol. That sentiment allows him to relate to TXT’s fans, known as MOA, and it’s a connection Soobin doesn’t take lightly. “Being a fan turned me into a positive person, and I only experienced positive changes as a K-pop fan,” he explains. “So to our fans, and the people who like me, I want only positive things to happen to them. I hope that they can experience positive changes.”

It’s only been four years since TXT debuted, and the group has already achieved headliner status at a major American music festival. If he were to chat with Soobin of 2019, back when TOMORROW X TOGETHER were freshly debuted, he says that he wouldn’t want to change a thing about their story so far: “I did the best I could at that time,” he recalls. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that would affect present me, because I’m so satisfied with present me. I just hope past Soobin walks the path that I walked, exactly the way I did.”

[misslaevna]

𝑰'𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.

a/n: oh how I'd need this right now- my first ever Aizawa fic! oh how much I love this man character pairing: Aizawa x reader genre: fluff trigger warning: alcohol masterlist and requesting

Your gaze shifted more and more frequently from your dissertation to the clock at the corner of the screen, and your fingers ran through your hair in frustration instead of raising the word count on the dreaded paper. 

From the depths of your lungs, a deep sigh arose: as much as you didn’t want to admit, you’re too tired to be productive and can’t continue working effectively.

You put your elbows on your desk in front of your laptop and lowered your head into your palms: you wanted to get so much more done today to stay on schedule!

Your muscles felt stiff, and judging by the loud cracking sound your back made when you decided to stretch your arms out, it was time you actually got up and moved around a little to freshen your blood flow up a little. 

As you made your way to the kitchen from your desk, you heard keys dangling and the door opening with a slight creak; Aizawa finally arrived home. 

‘Hey’, you said, rubbing your eyes, ‘you’re home early.’ 

Early - for you at least. It’s rare for Aizawa to be back before midnight, and it’s not unusual when he’s out for the whole night, but now, he was back home at 11 at night. 

‘Since Yamada is on duty tonight, Nezu let me off early tonight.’ explained the man while he took off his shoes. 

Aizawa made his way straight to you and placed both of his hands on your waist, firmly holding you, as if without his touch, you couldn’t be standing there - which was half the case anyways. From all the sitting and studying, you were beyond exhausted. 

‘Meaning, I’m yours tonight.’ he smiled, making eye contact with you before he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips.

You put your hands on his chest, then slowly made your way up to his neck where you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in the creek of his neck. 

You took a deep breath to inhale his scent - oh, you missed him so much. 

Aizawa lowered his head, so your face would touch with his - his stubble tickled your face a little, but you wouldn’t change this feeling for anything in the world. His warm skin against yours, the little tingling of his facial hair against your skin, his soft hair slowly falling onto you, his arms firmly holding you close to him, his body unconsciously reassuring you that you are his and his only - the most precious person in his life.

He slowly turned his head to press another kiss on your cheek.

‘So, how’s the dissertation going?’

‘Shota, don’t even mention it.’ you groaned, while you walked into the kitchen with him. 

Aizawa chuckled, ‘It cannot be going that bad. Here, let me fix something for you.’ 

The man opened the kitchen cupboard and took down two glasses alongside with a bottle of whisky. 

He dropped a couple of ice cubes into each glass, which landed with an elegant clink at the bottom; after that he filled an appropriate amount of whisky to both of the glasses and handed one to you.

‘Fancy.’, you said smiling, slightly raising your glass while slowly making your way to the living room couch, with Aizawa closely following you.

When he sat down to the couch, instead of letting you sit next to him, he grabbed your arm and slightly pulled you towards himself, guiding you onto his lap.

You chuckled and put one arm around his shoulders leaning on him, while he supported you with his free hand, while he was holding his glass in the other.

‘To us, finally spending time together before midnight.’ you said in a low tone while catching his gaze, making eye contact with him.

‘I’ll toast to that.’, he nodded with a smile, clinking his glass gently to yours.

Aizawa finished his drink just a little before you did; which gave him the perfect opportunity that after his other hand freed up, he was free to caress your soft cheek and play with your hair, while you finally decided to rant in detail about your dissertation.

The back of his hand slowly caressed your cheeks, then his fingers wandered around your arms and your palm, drawing little tracks all over you while soaking all your words in.

These were the moments he appreciated the most with you.

Just the two of you, you being close to him, so close that he can hold you, because he has to hold you; he has to have his hands on you, to feel you next to him, to feel that you’re here with him. He loved seeing passion get the better of you, be it you talking in-depth about your dissertation topic which you actually really loved, or you cursing your paper out of this world. Your passion for knowledge, for wanting to know more, for making an effort to make this world a better place and not giving up - oh how honored he felt that you let him be next to you to accompany, support and love you.

You placed your empty glass down next to Aizawa’s, now wrapping both of your arms around him, leaning your head down on his shoulder and snuggling close to his neck. You took a strand of his hair in between your fingers and subconsciously started playing with it.

While you were busy with Aizawa’s strands, you didn’t even notice how, even though unintentionally, you’re also caressing his nape.

Your soft fingers against Aizawa’s neck sent a slight shiver down him, and his grip around your waist tightened, pulling you deeper into his arms, so close that you were completely pressed against his warm body.

‘I needed this.’ you admitted, snuggling closer to him. His arms around you felt like a warm, protective blanket, shielding you from all your worries and responsibilities: a safe space, just for you. ‘I’ve been a bit stressed lately. I missed you.’

‘I know, baby. I’m here now.’ he whispered, pressing two long, hazy kisses on your cheek, slowly getting closer to your lips.

His lips brushed up against yours, you felt his stubble on your skin above your upper lips.

‘I love you so much.’ whispered Aizawa before he pulled you into a passionate kiss, his hand sliding from your waist to the back of your head, pulling you deeper into his kiss.

Your lips moved along with his, your hand cupping his cheek, not wanting to let him go - not from the kiss. Not ever.

Because when you have Aizawa next to you, you know: there’s no such thing as impossible. 

Just like how Aizawa knows that as long as he has you by his side, he will protect you and treasure the sense of home and belonging you provide him with.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

I enjoyed writing this so much - hope you also enjoyed reading this! ♡

I apologize if it's a bit all over the place I'm very sleep deprived

my other mha related writing:

Shigaraki drabble

[yumenotambourin]

Can you tell me more about your Elfilis pleaaseeee

AAA TYSM FOR ASKING!!!s

Okay so I’m not really good with open questions, but I’ll just dump whatever comes to my mind, if you want to know something specific feel free to ask!! I’ve been rotating them in my mind nonstop for two years I’d never be able to write everything.

First of all, my Lizzie is the Ultimate Lifeform. What does that mean, you may ask? Well, to put it simply, they are meant to* be the pinnacle of evolution, a being capable of anything, a being that cannot be outmatched.

*I say they are meant to because they are not a product of evolution. They are an angel birthed by Void’s feeling of being alive(???).

So, Elfilis is the perfect being. And knowing this has made them grow arrogant and self absorbed, although not exactly with malice. They are aware that they are genetically superior to any other being in the universe, and they treat others (who they call “inferior beings”) with I don’t really know how to explain this but with less disdain and more condescension. They essentially treat everyone around them like a little child might treat bugs: as tiny, insignificant things who can be fun to watch but even more to squash.

That’s kinda why they destroy planets, too. They just think it’s fun, and they genuinely don’t see anything wrong within it because they see themselves as above “pointless inferior concepts” such as morality. They also never really had a home, instead they travel from planet to planet, only briefly stopping to rest before blowing them up with no remorse, so they have little to no concept of consequences or society, and they dismiss these things as being below them. Also, they don’t destroy these planets due to ill feelings, in fact they love visiting different ones, but they simply don’t see the point in letting the planets continue existing after they’ve seen them (sorry if I’m not explaining well I’m just a bit tired)

Btw going on a little tangent here but today I was translating old Japanese mouce posts and one of them said “I find their arrogance inspiring” 😭 emoji)I mean I get what they’re saying, and honestly same but not worded it like that 😭 but maybe I have to look better what each word means.

Throughout their unmeasurably long existence, Elfilis never even thought of the possibility of being defeated. They are a smart mous, but they are also painfully overconfident and reckless to a fault. Which is, for example, why they let themself be run over, or get captured in the first place.

Lizzie was captured with guns. They might have healing abilities, but when the thing that hurts you stays inside of their body it actually made it worse. So they were shot until they passed out from the pain.

While in captivity, Elfilis spent the vast majority in their dream world, using it to explore the outside through the visitors’ memories and trying their best to pretend like everything is alright, waking only to see Neichel.

Btw, they’re very torn on their feelings towards Neichel, because on one hand she kept them company and stood by their side the entire time and they grew attached to her, while on the other hand she stole their song and exploited them like the rest, plus the sole fact that she is a human.

Also the New Worlders' feelings about Elfilis were mixed between fear, wonder and tenderness(like 🥺), no matter how much hatred one could hold for a being who attempted to destroy their planet, for nearly everyone it vanished the moment they saw how beautiful and miserable this creature was.

But Lab Discovera was sooo close to develop technology beyond anything humanity could've ever imagined, and if they frred the mous they'd have all the more reason to turn this planet to dust. So its better to keep them caged, right...?

Anyways, their decision to split was a stupid impulsive choice they made in the heat of the moment during a failed attempt at escape. They figured that by ejecting all their feelings would’ve allowed them to reason better, and the half of themself outside could help the half of them inside escape. They certainly didn’t expect to spawn two babies and condemn them to suffer for millennia.

In the present, Elfilis greatly loves their little ones, and takes on the role of the cool older sibling for them. They want the Gemini to be as happy as possible to make up for all the suffering they’ve put them through. Btw, they don’t want the babies to necessarily follow their footsteps, but they want them to at least be aware that they, too, are perfect like their sibling.

Btw they despise Kirby for being a “bad influence” on Elfilin and for trying to prevent them from existing just cause he made a little friend and for running them over, but they tolerate him because he undoubtedly makes their babies happy.

They also often pick on Meta Knight, mainly to tease Elfilin cause he admires him, but also cause they see that he’s trying to make himself look cooler by acting the way Galacta is (falsely) portrayed in the present and they think its funny.

Btw the were also a Gucci Gangster, specifically the healer of the team. Due to void shenanigans they can’t remember much of their other two friends, but meeting Kirby and Meta Knight unlocked their memories of Galacta. They miss him very much but they’re somehow sure they’d be able to bring him back one way or another.

Okay so its 2 am so that’s all for today, I repeat I’m not too good with open questions so if you want to know more please feel free to ask!!!

[what-the--curtains]

Fire & Ice

Chapter 3 - Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon

(Robb Stark x f!Targaryen!Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: A strategy meeting cements your worth to the Northmen, but a secret plot results in a trial that tests a truth you had been told your entire life.

Authors note: As usual thanks to everyone who reads/likes/comments/reblogs you are all amazing and wonderful and I love u! If anyone wants a tag let me know!

TW: Major character death, burning alive, swearing, derogatory comments, audio/visual hallucinations

Taglist: @kittykylax @winxschester @mihrimahsultan03 @stargaryenx @the-desilittle-bird @roselibrary

Word count: 4.1k

Playlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake alone, thanking the gods that Robb had enough sense not to return during the night. The sun was rising, light seeping slowly through the deep indigo twilight that laid across the land. You shiver as you push the warmth of the furs away, clutching one around your body as you shuffle towards the hearth, dressing it the early morning hours. No handmaidens had been provided to you, not worth the expense you supposed. The hearth crackles, the heat inviting you, daring you to reach out.  You knew the tales, you heard them spoken by Visery each time his rage surfaced. 

Fire can not kill a dragon. 

Some nights you plotted to test your theory. At first you dreamt of setting fire to Visery’s bed as he slept, but the consequences of his survival were too dire. Another test, however, was perhaps possible. You reach your hand out, quick at first but the coals stay it. Heat warming your palm, you inhale preparing to reach out when someone enters the tent. You step back, clasping your hands together. Robb’s eyes study you for a moment but his contempt saves you the embarrassment of explaining what you had been doing. 

 “I hope you enjoyed your night as much as I did,” he states, smug and spite forged together to form the sentence. 

“I did, thank you, Your Grace. I have found nights alone are often the most pleasurable, as you are assured capable hands, and not the clumsy fumblings of unskilled fingers,” you return, now fully awake. 

“For reasons beyond my comprehension, it is my mothers wish that you join this morning's strategy meeting,” He replies, not granting you the war of words you had hoped for.

“I wasn’t aware northerners allowed women in war rooms,” you mumble.

“We do not, but my mother has a proclivity for decision making and she has requested your presence so I am trapped, once again, by you both,” he relay’s listlessly. 

“And you’re here to…what? Escort me?” you mock. 

“It would seem improper if…” he begins, but a high pitched laugh interrupts him. 

“It was improper that you refused to kiss me during our wedding. It was improper that you arrive here after sunrise, clearly having laid with another. Do not try now to lecture me on what is and is not proper,” you relay condescendingly. Robb rolls his eyes, pressing his tongue back behind his teeth “I have two feet, I have a half a brain, I will meet you in the tent,” you cut. He bows sarcastically before leaving you. The wind was colder today and it burned your face when you finally exited the tent. You look down as you start towards the war room, but a whisper on the wind turns your head towards the forest. Children's laughter echoing. You squint at the tree line trying to see if perhaps a family had wandered too close to the war's edge. 

Catelynn sees you there, standing perfectly still save for the bottom of your cloak that billows in the early morning wind. “Lady Rhaeanya?” she calls stepping towards you “Lady Rhaeanya,” she beckons, louder this time.  

You startle when her hand touches your back, and you turn to face her. “My Lady, shall we?” Catelynn asks, extending her arm to you.

“Apologies, I thought…” you hold your tongue as you look back over your shoulder. Madness clung to your family's lineage, rumours of your mental instability would only further Robbs' cause to be rid of you “... it seems my lack of sleep is leaving my head in the clouds,'' you reply, taking her arm. 

“That is very typical after most wedding nights, it will get easier with time,” she replies. 

You take note of the room's configuration as you enter, Robb’s council was smaller than you expected. A slender man with a flat face sat in the far corner, crows prepared to deliver any urgent messages. The rest of the men, burly and bearded, stood around the engraved table. You recognized the sigils; houses Umber, Bolton and Karstark. Visery stands on the other side, attempting to look deep in thought while Jorah keeps a watchful eye over him. You watch as Catelynn takes her place beside Robb at the head of the table, despite his anger at the arrangement their bond was the strongest here. You would place money that she was the only one he truly trusted. The man, around the same age as Robb, steps aside allowing you to take your place to his left. You feel the tension and annoyance seeping out of Robb at the prospect of you lurking over his shoulder. 

You stare down at the table, skilled hands had taken care to recreate the topography of Westeros. Every hill and mountain expertly carved, each tree detailed and purposeful. Wood figurines are scattered across it, allies and enemies of the North. You ponder whether the dragon figure had been lost to the world or simply destroyed. You study the table, linking its form to the books you had read on your journey over, searching for an angle. You always had a proclivity for memorization, it was time to put it to use. Recent arrival of news had shifted the Lannisters further down a shallow valley, one easy enough to cross by foot. So why hadn’t they? 

“When was this table made?” you question, causing the murmuring men to look at you.

“Long ago My Lady, it belonged to Robbs' great, great, grandfather,” the man with the braided beard replies sympathetically, counteracting Visery’s violent gaze burning the back of your neck. 

“Excuse her, Your Grace she often speaks out of turn I will…” Visery charms, taking a step forward but Robb stops him with a raise of his hand. 

“No,” he states looking at you  “let her embarrass herself if she wishes,” you here the tallest of the men snicker, as Catelynn sighs “you evidently have something to say, so tell me what would your keen mind have me do,” he taunts, the room falling tense, pity or ridicule dancing across their features. Your eyes meet Jorahs, and he nods encouragingly. 

“During the first Blackfyre rebellion, the Lannisters gained an upper hand along this valley, moving in very similar fashion as they do today, did you know that?” you challenge, hand tracing along the table and Robb nods “Then you know there was only one factor that allowed for their victory, ” you question, turning the table back onto him as you come to stand across from him

“The upper ground,” Robb replies, smiling as if he outsmarted you

“An upper ground they currently lack,” you explain, your hands now placed firmly on the table, as you watch his smile fade. “While beautiful, and a mark of fine craftsmanship this map is dated, and it fails to account for a changing landscape. 100 years ago, there was a landslide after a great rainfall that tore the earth down from the twins.”

“That is true, my father told me of it,” Catelynn offers.  

“It levelled the valley into a swamp, unsurpassable mud, at least most of it. A rockfall some fifty years prior now enables passage across the mud, if one knows where to look,” You explain placing the wooden piece down 150 miles from where the Lannister forces were last reported. You glance up to see Robb settle back into his seat, listening, watching your movements. 

“What would you have me do next” Robb questions, whether he was intrigued or trying to trip you up you were unsure, but you would not falter here.

“A fake out,” you reply and the men mumble “they have realised that you will soon know crossing this valley is only possible from one vantage point unless you pass through the twins themselves”

“Why would they not simply cross at the twins?” The man bearing the Umber sigil booms.

“The Lannisters have looked down upon the Frey’s for years, Walder would not allow it, he is too spiteful and proud,” Catelynn relays. 

“Which is why they move further west instead of crossing,” Robb murmurs

“They will continue until they find the one spot not filled with impassable mud, and you will be waiting for them. Send down a small troop, a hundred or so men, draw out the Lannister forces, make them show their hand. They will be there in large quantities, and from what I understand, you have yet to lose. They are looking for an easy win.”  Robb sits forward as you shift the lion piece across the board “while they are busy, you pull the exact same manoeuvre. Only their legion of 400 men will be trapped,”

“And those in the initial attack?” Robb asks

“There is no victory without sacrifice… or so I’ve read. And if you are half the leader I have heard you are then you should have no issue rallying the numbers needed. If you’ll excuse me I'll leave the cunning minds of men to work out the finer details or a more apt plan but you asked what I would do. That is what I would do.” You finish, bowing your head and leaving the tent.

 Robb watches you leave through his lashes, before turning his gaze to Visery, anger seeping out of his pores his eyes seemed black, almost inhumane despite his apparent calmness. Unsettled, Robb turns to the rest of the room who all stare down at the table, looking for fault. His mother had been right, you did know how to command a room. More importantly you had proven yourself to the camp's most important players. Perhaps getting rid of you would not be such an easy feat. If what you said last night was true, that you had no issue with him continuing his love affair, perhaps you could be useful to his cause, difficult as you may be. 

“She’s right,” Theon murmurs.

“I know she’s right,”  Robb mutters, eyes trailing over the map where your mind had so easily seen a plot, a plot his hired strategists had missed, that he had missed.

“You seem upset, your Grace,” Rickard Karstark states.

“Only that I didn’t think of it first, ready the troops, I will address them shortly,'' He pushes back from the table as the rest leave. He would have to craft a speech to rally hundreds of men to their death, to sacrifice their bodies for a war they would not reap the fruits of. A hard enough job, made even worse when his stride is interrupted by Visery.

“Your Grace, my sincerest apologies on behalf of my sister's outlandish behaviour, she will not speak out of turn again. I will see to it myself that she learns her lesson,” he states, hand placed unnerving on Robb’s shoulder. 

“Discipline is usually the place of the husband,” Catelynn begins. 

“I wouldn’t wish it on you, Your Grace, you are busy enough with the ways of war. I beg you, let me deal with her,” 

“Her contribution was valuable,” Catelynn insists. 

“But her manner was inexcusable,” Visery corrects, had it not been for the deaths of his men plaguing his mind perhaps Robb would have paid closer attention to the words spoken, or noticed how Viserys refused to address Catelynn directly. Perhaps he would have taken more  care in his response. Exasperated and tired, Robb simply nods, and Visery strides off.

“You are too harsh on her,”  Catelynn states once Visery has left. 

“You sought to find me the perfect wife, by most definitions she should be subordinate,” Robb replies, his eyes still on the wolf figure sitting helplessly at the crossroads. 

Catelynn stands placing her hand on his shoulder, “You were never raised to think that way, nor have you ever believed that. You have always sought a partner that challenged you.” 

“She is a challenge, which is why her brother will deal with her for me, I am sure he will be better suited to conversing civilly with her than I,” Robb relays.  

“I doubt that. I do not trust that man,”

“Nor do I,” Robb admits.

“Yet you send him off with your wife, whatever happens to her, know you could have prevented it,” only then does Robb look up from the table.

“I did not ask either of them to be in my life, I did not wish for this marriage, anything that happens to her, is your fault, you brought her here,” he states, shifting out from her touch 

‘And you think she asked for this? You think as a little girl she dreamt of this life?’ Catelynn argues. 

For lack of a better rebuttal Robb simple mutters “You wouldn’t understand” 

“Of course I do. Better than any, your father did not wish to marry me,” she reveals Robbs eyes looking at her “at least not at first, but he knew what was expected of him. And never, did he take that out on me.” 

“I am forced to send 100 men off to die deaths I could have prevented, I do not have time to play the role of perfect husband,” 

“I am not asking you to love her, I am simply asking you to show her care.” Catelynn remarks leaving the tent in hopes of finding you before Visery. Raised voices stay her stride, and she  catches the scene through a veiled gap in the fabric of Visery’s tent. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“After all I have done for you, for this family you dare make us out to be savages with no respect for customs,” he shouts 

“I offered a strategy that will work, that will push forward towards our goal Visery, that was my only intention,” you relay, attempting to placate him. 

“Was it? I am the true crown prince, you should have allowed me to put a strategy forward. I am to rule not you,” he snarls. 

“You never would have thought of it, you’ve never had proclivity for anything but violence,”  the slap rings out louder than the voices, you immediately look back at him, annoyance not fear, evident on your face.  The look of someone accustomed to the abuse. 

“Speak to me in such a manner again,” 

“And what Visery? You’ll have me killed? You would be sent back to Essos without a single soldier to your name,”

“Your husband cannot stand you he would throw me a feast if I finished the job,” 

“Then do it,” you remark, grabbing a knife and pushing it towards him, daring him to take it, but he doesn't. “That's what I thought” you spit, pushing past him. She watches as he grabs the back of your neck pulling down to the floor, she dare not stay to hear the endtail of insults he had already begun. With the wind on her back she walks steadily towards her destination, plan forming with each step. 

She finds Ser Rodrik with the crows, scribing a message to Winterfell for Bran and Rickon. “My Lady…” he startles. 

“I want him dead by the morning,” she whispers stoically “I do not care how it is done, but it shall come to pass, am I clear in my intentions?”

“Leave it with me, My Lady,” he replies, an uneasiness apparent in his tone. 

“As always your discretion is greatly appreciated, Ser Rodrik, and it will not be forgotten,” she watches as he swallows, perhaps she had made a mistake, perhaps he could not be trusted with this. 

“My Lady, you know I serve house Stark, but I must speak. Is this wise, we need a Targaryen with a claim to the throne, is that not why you brought them here,”

“We already have a Targaryen,” she states evenly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

You place a cold rag on your face, the swelling already lowering by the time Jorah enters.

“Khaleesi,” he worries, a few steps taken in haste to get to you. 

“I am fine Jorah, ice is slippery. Embarrassed as I am, I am thankful for the tree that caught me. Even if it did nearly scrape my eye out,” you smile, but he doesn't seem convinced “ You must not allow anyone to hear you call me such things, otherwise my past may be revealed,”

“Of course Your Grace,”

“Or that, especially if Visery is in earshot, he becomes more paranoid with each passing hour. Jorah may I ask you a question,” you drop the rag from your face, fiddling with it between your hands.

“You need not ask my permission,” he offers, watching as you nervously run the fabric between your fingers. 

“Well good news indeed considering I have two,” you chuckle, “My speaking today in the room, was it adequate was I clear,”

“Yes My Lady, clear as day, the men were captivated, they listened to you and I believe they now see you more clearly,”

“And who were the men present, what need I know of them,”

“Theon Greyjoy, the man whose place you took, hee was the ward of Lord Stark, he may back Robb now, but a prisoner is a prisoner and he may turn at any point. Lord Umber, towers over most men, strong headed and always looking for a fight. From what I understand, if you have enough courage to put him in his place, his respect will be yours. Lord Bolton, the man sat in the corner, smaller house but he has powerful and deadly armies. Anyone who uses a flayed man is one that does not stand above torture. Their most powerful ally is Rickard Karstark, they are bound by blood descendants of the first men, Stark and Karstark go hand in hand.”

“And who was the man with the braided beard? I did not recognize his sigil,”

“Ser Rodrik Cassel he is a loyal guard to the Stark children since their birth, and in all likelihood until his or their, deaths”

“So Greyjoy is the only concern thus far,” you reply, slinging the cloth over the water basin. 

“Keep an eye on Karstark, his influence will be powerful, same with Rodrik, you want them on your side. Though Rickard Karstark will not have forgotten your fathers doings,”

“I do believe it is time someone must showed the Targaryens good side, and Visery seems to clear a mile wide radius when he walks through the camp,” 

“ We have seen how others have accepted him in the past, he will not be able to rule, you must know that,” Jorah offers hesitantly. 

“I hoped the cold would have killed him, but perhaps he's not as feeble as he seems and great leaders can be carved from inadequate stock if given the right guidance. My second question pertains to my father, you knew him,”

“I knew of him,”

“Was it true, what they said” you ask, back turned to Jorah not wanting your eyes to reveal what they had seen in the woods. 

“Of what truth do you seek to know My Lady,”

“Was he mad?” 

“He claimed to hear voices, but that truth is unknown to any  except by him.”

“So he was either mad or cruel, and if Visery is cruel then well…” you mutter

“Pardon My Lady,”  Jorah asks. 

“Nothing,” you turn back to face him, offering the concealing smile ever evident on your face. “Thank you Ser Jorah for keeping me company these past few days,”

“I always revel in your company,” you smile, but it fades as faint shouts sound out from outside. 

“Can you hear that?” you question and Jorah nods, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword “then perhaps I am not mad yet,” you murmur. Your exit is interrupted by a mass of men swarming forward, pushing you back into Jorah. 

“Stay close My Lady,” Jorah whispers, and you begin to move with the crowd. The mass becomes increasingly dense and Jorah loses you.  You push through gaps and between men until you happen upon a clearing, looking across you see a sea of men, 20,000 never seemed so large a number before. You follow their gaze to the right, the moonlight illuminating the scene, the beams radiating of Visery’s white hair, as he’s forced to his knees by Theon Greyjoy and John Umber, you push through the last of the crowd out into view, coming to stand across from Robb and Catelyn. Their gaze looks to you, and Visery’s head turns back. 

 “Stop them” Visery commands as you emerge, tears running down the bridge of his nose, intermingling with the snot, he lunges forward like a wild animal, but he's pulled back by the chains binding his hands.  

“What is the meaning of this?” you ask, words clear even in your panic, you look towards Catelynn then to Robb when her eyes reveal no answers, but he stares down at Visery with a disgust even you had not seen. Jorah appears at the crowd's edge prepared for the worst. If Visery was to be accused of something, were you to be implemented as well? He seeks a route of escape, but none are clear. 

“Your brother should be more careful with whom he converses in the dark hours of the night,” Robb replies, throwing down a note, carefully crafted and strategically placed so as to be intercepted by the men guarding the rookeries. Shot down by Theon at the command of Catelynn herself. 

“Do you know what the punishment for treason is?” Robb asks, Jorah tenses as you move closer to the centre, towards the note laying cream against the bright white snow, ink of the letter glinting beneath the waning moon. 

“I have committed no such act Your Grace”, he pleads, desperation evident across his face, but his remorse turns to violence when he sees you leaning towards the note.  “I..tell him tell him what will happen if he angers me,” he shouts, spittle hitting your face as you retreat, leaving the note discarded on the ground. For the first time, Robb sees you afraid, he hardly thought anything capable of shaking you. 

 “You dare threaten me again,” Robb booms, the mutterings of the crowd silenced. 

“Your Grace,” you stutter, grabbing his arm, breaking his gaze. His eyes meet yours that glistening when you shake your head, but your tears do not resonate any emotion in him.

“Do you know what he writes? He writes that once King's Landing is taken he will slay me, then you, and reclaim the North for himself, to ensure his singular rule of all seven kingdoms,” he says, your heads turning in time to meet Visery’s glare, black as the night sky, surely he could not be that dense, you look to Catelynn but she stares ahead.

“Tell him you stupid little whore, or I will..” he scorns, venom dripping off every word.

“Shut your mouth,” Robb shouts, putting himself between you and Visery.  “Treason demands retribution to the old gods, through fire,'' Robb commands, to the cheers of his men. 

“No,” you whisper frantically, pulling Robbs gaze back to you, shaking your head “You cannot kill him with fire” you try to explain.

“It is what the law dictates, and you will not interfere,” he replies coldly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you state, fear shining through, nearly enough to stop him. 

“Pile the wood high,” he orders.

You do not move from where you stand as the men work to create a pyre. Your eyes remain locked with Visery’s that look up through straggled white hair. He seethes, but there are no words left to share. If he was the true dragon as he claimed, he should have nothing to fear. You watch as he’s removed from the stake holding his chains, and brought towards the pyre. Robb comes to stand beside you, for what reason you do not know, perhaps to revel in your misery. The world goes blurry, and sounds muffle as you watch Visery get tied to a stake, his eyes staring at you screaming vile threats until they gag him. 

Your eyes do not break from Visery’s, not when the pyres base is lit, not when flames begin to rise, not when the smell of flesh begins to fill the surrounding air. Robb stands beside you throughout it. Leaving your side would be considered too big a slight by his mother, by his men, by Talisa even.  You don’t flinch as the flames burn into the fabric of Visery. There are no tears, no turning into Robb’s arms, no fainting or throwing up as he expected. No, the only emotion on your face as Visery’s screams faded into the night was confusion. 

“but…” you whisper, forehead scrunched. Robb finds himself leaning in, hoping for the rest of the words to follow, but they never do, your lips closed as quickly as they had opened. 

Viserys' words ringing in your head. 

Fire can not kill a dragon.

“I wish to be alone tonight, go to her, you are not needed nor will you be missed,” you state flatly, walking forward towards the pyre, the men of the camp watching intently as you go, Robb only parting when he sees Jorah stood firmly at your side.