#i need to stop writing these at 3 AM

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: people say suffering is what it means to be a shroud. you could not think more different.

WARNINGS: mentions of blood & self mutilation.

COMMENTS: PHEW THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY!!! idia stop being my muse pls 🙏🙏 i keep writing 2k - 3k word fics in one sitting because of you

“Don’t you wish the world treated him better?”

You blink, entranced by the swirls of green. The voice beckons you closer.

How was that door open...? It should have been closed, right...?

“Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else?”

More voices have joined.

“Don’t you want that for him and his brother?”

It sounds beautiful, like a symphony.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

You step closer, muscles relaxing as you slip under their spell. The voices are right. They deserved better. They should have been able to live where they pleased, to escape this island and their fate.

The voices giggle—they know they’re right.

They’ve reached you.

Black consumes your vision, blocking out the glowing green. You shut your eyes. Your world grows darker. There's a seizing in your chest and a fluttering in your heart as something pours into your body, staining you.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

“Set us free, and we’ll set all of you free.”

—

The hallways are blaring red, but all Idia sees is the floor swimming in his vision. Ortho is by his side as he punches access code after access code into the door panels, running like he’s never run before. He has a stitch in his side but he keeps going, your face flashing in his mind.

He lost Ortho once. He’s not losing someone again.

It’s like the stairs last forever, winding deeper and deeper into the Earth. Idia doesn’t stop running once, even though he feels like he’s going to fall over and throw up. He’s almost one-hundred percent certain Ortho has carried him at some point but his mind is too messy and his vision is too muddled to care.

Time seems to slow as he reaches the bottom. He raises his head as his ears ring, and the second he lays eyes on you it’s like his vision is clear again. Ink pours out of you and the black markings on your face are all too familiar. Blue fire spits out from behind you and your shrieks are heartbreaking, like you’re wailing for something you want so badly but could never have. Wings sprout from your back, broken and crooked, feathers twisted and clumped. Your hands are worn and bloody from stretching at the walls, and that’s when Idia realizes—

You want to be free.

Guilt crashes over him and it's a critical hit. Of course. He should have been sure this is what you wanted. He should have known you’d get sick of life here, even though you said you loved him time and time again, even though you held him on all those nights that he couldn’t sleep because the thoughts were too much, even though you bonded with Ortho and stepped back for him, letting him set boundaries even though that meant not doing things you wanted to do, like holding his hand or kissing his forehead or playing with his hair.

He should have known this wasn’t the life you wanted.

The ring on his finger feels like nothing more than a heavy stone now.

—

It took years for Idia to open up to you about his family situation. In fact, he seemed to be braced for the possibility that you’d leave him in a heartbeat after hearing it. Your heart ached for him when he explained his past and his inevitable future in a soft, low voice, rushing through the whole thing as if it was the scariest thing he’s ever done.

You placed your hand on his knee once he stopped, letting his words trail off into the night.

“I understand you.” you’d said, looking him straight in the eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness of his room, flickering like a fire about to be put out.

Idia curled in on himself that night, dragging a clump of his hair over his shoulder and twisting it into knots. You’d reached over and gently grabbed his hands, stopping him from tangling his precious hair. You’d gently smoothed out the fiery strands before kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as if paying him reverence.

“I want to stay with you.” you’d said softly, cradling his shaking, fragile hands in yours.

In that moment, it felt like his very heart was beating between your intertwined hands.

Soft sniffles filled the room that night, and you kissed each tear away. More kept coming, more and more and more, his eyes blotchy and red as he tried to keep quiet. You kept quiet too, whispering how much you cared about him and how if he would let you, you’d stay with him forever because you loved him and he deserved someone by his side. You kissed each tear well into the night, fighting his overwhelming sorrow with your love.

—

Your memories are patchy. It’s like you don’t remember who you are, or where you are. In the dark expanse of your mind, you remember two things.

Idia Shroud and Ortho Shroud.

Your throat feels heavy as your heart starts to palpate—what happened? Where is the green glow? Where are all the comforting voices that whispered your new future to you?

Where were the people you were fighting for?

“Vitals stable.” a faraway voice calls, a sharp clatter piercing through your quiet, inky haze, “Commencing full body scan for blot.”

Blot...

Your eyelids pry themselves open. All the energy has been sapped from your body, your limbs heavy and useless. The strings holding them up have been cut, and it's scary that you can’t remember how you were strung up in the first place.

“Mx, we ask that you please stay still.” the man above you is in a white coat, his hands holding a clipboard and a pen.

You nod passively. Something about him seems familiar enough.

His voice drones on statistics about your well being as your eyes slip shut again, and arms of sludge reach out from your mind and pull you back under the ink, into a deep sleep.

—

Idia is chewing on his fingernails again.

He wishes you were here to scold him for it and paint a new coat over them so he wouldn’t chew on them anymore, being too sentimental to mess up your hard work and too repulsed by the taste, even though he would only ever tell you the latter and—

You were still asleep.

Your vitals are stable, You are fine.

You are fine but there are still black scars all over your body.

Your vitals are stable but the marks will stay there forever.

You almost died and it’s his fault.

You want freedom and he took that away when he said “I do.”

He kissed you and he sucked the soul right out of your body, keeping it clutched in his hands because he’s selfish and stupid and why in the world did you even fall in love with him in the first place?

He has nothing to offer you.

Nothing but this.

Suffering and loneliness and contempt and headaches and cold nights and machines that fill your whole day, leaving no room for the whimsical leisure you enjoyed before. There are no more board games, no more trips to the school store, no more fresh air and nighttime walks, no more watching movies and eating gummy worms, no more talking to anyone who isn’t him.

The ring on his finger burns.

—

You don’t know how long it's been since you went to sleep.

You wake up to a room with dark walls and metallic shelves above your head. The bed (cot?) is firm underneath your body, which is adorned by a gray uniform. There’s a desk right across from you with a tablet and a chair. You can’t see anything it’s hooked up to. The one constant among all of these things seems to be the triangular details, criss-crossing and curving and connecting with each other.

They make your vision spin, so you look away.

You stay in bed.

For some reason your face and neck sting, as does your back. You trace the parts of your face that burn, finding that the areas are almost symmetrical on both sides.

What happened?

“...Idia?” you whisper, your left hand resting over your smoothly beating heart.

The door opens.

Your heart lurches into your throat when you see a dark uniform, fiery blue hair that swings well past his elbows, and eyes that are sunken in. His skin is as pale as ever, his lips chapped and bitten by worry, his nails stubbed and torn, but—

He came.

But it’s him.

He came when you called.

“...Idia—!” you gasp, choking on your words as you lurch forward and cough, black ink splattering all over your gray shirt.

“Easy!” he yelps, rushing to your side. You feel his cold hand press against your back and you lean into the touch, starved for it.

“What happened?” you ask between smaller coughs, following his hand and he lays you back down.

Idia bites his lip. He does not answer.

Instead, he turns his back to you and moves over to the desk grabbing the tablet. He still doesn’t look at you as he taps a few bottoms. He gnaws on his lower lip before twisting the chair to face you and sitting down.

“How much do you remember?” he counters your question with another question, eyes heavier than usual.

“I remember green.” you whisper, the intriguing whispers poking into the corners of your mind again, “I remember voices...they said sweet things to me.”

Idia winces as if that’s the last thing he wants to hear.

“You overblotted.” he says, so blunt it surprises both of you, “You went...deeper than you should have, and you overblotted.”

You touch your face. The burning sensation wiggles as if it’s been recognized, and is pleased. It’s like there's something under your skin, something alive and yearning,that was waiting for him to say it.

“Oh.” you whisper, and in turn, the voices begin to beckon you again.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud. Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else? It’s not fair, is it? He deserves better. His brother deserves better. You all do. We can help you, we can make that happen, you just have to help us—”

“They were phantoms.” you breathe, tracing the lines on your face over and over and over and over and over—

You don't notice when he gets up and reaches for you. Idia grabs your hand when it looks like you’re pressing too hard, your nails digging into your skin. You stop immediately, looking up at him with glossy eyes and trembling lips.

“Idia...is this what it means to be a Shroud?” you ask, forming each word carefully.

The phantoms said as much.

But he says nothing.

“I don’t blame you if you decided this isn’t what you want, you know.” he says, tone flat and disinterested, like you’re someone he doesn’t even know.

“What do you mean?”

“Your phantom looked like it wanted to be free.” he says, tablet still in his hand.

He pulls up the footage of your rage and shows it to you—your crooked, clumped wings and your bloody, inky hands and your screams as you cry for freedom, freedom—

He misunderstands.

“Not for me!” you seize his wrist, squeezing it so hard you fear it’ll break but this important, “For you! Freedom for you! It’s always you and it always will be you! I wanted you to be free and Ortho to be free. I wanted all of us to be free—!”

You start coughing again, this time even harder. Ink splatters on your bed and this time Idia is on you, he’s truly with you, cradling you against his chest as the ink stains his uniform as well. It pours out of you like a dead, polluted river, and yet in a twisted way it’s a symbol of how much you care.

You vaguely feel his nose pressing against your head in the haze, whispering what sounds like swears and pleads but none of it reaches your ears over the sound of your coughing. By the time you’re done, both of you are thoroughly painted with the remnants of blot.

The voices are gone.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” he whispers it into your head like it's a confession, meant for your ears and your ears only, “I thought you...wanted to leave here. Leave me.”

His arms are around you like a vice grip.

You’re grateful you’re alive to see him be selfish.

“Idia...my love.” you say, equally as soft, “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to be with you?”

“It’s hard to believe!” he protests, voice cracking.

He pulls away from you, just enough to look over your face. His eyes are watery and he’s so vulnerable—you really scared him. His thumb traces down the parts of your face that burned, the parts of your face you know will be scarred for life now.

“Good thing I’m still here then.” you smile weakly, cupping his face, “I’ll remind you every single day.”

His ring no longer burns.

His left hand rests over your left, and your rings clink together as they connect.

You’re okay. You still want him. You’re alive.

“You’re crazy.” Idia groans, stepping forward and falling into your arms, “You are absolutely crazy. Any normal person would be running for their life right now, calling me a freak and hyperventilating. A normal person would never want to come back—”

His slumps over you like a big cat, arms encircling you in warmth once again. It’s his way of hiding his expression when he’s getting a bit too into his feelings—you know this by now.

“Goodness. It’s a good thing I’m madly in love with you then.” you laugh, hands splayed out on his shoulder blades as he hugs you again, “You know what they say about love making you do crazy things.”

“Please don’t ever do that again—oh Great Seven.” he squeezes you even tighter and you let him, putty in his hands.

“I’m not planning on it. I promise.”  you reassure him, “I don't want to leave you—”

“It’s not about leaving me, you could have died!” he protests, cradling the back of your head, “I’d be fine if you just left! If you were somewhere else...somewhere safe!”

“You would not be okay with that. Don’t pretend to be.” you chastise him quietly, and you know you’ve won when he goes quiet, “You want to keep me here, and you want me to stay. I want the same thing. You don’t have to pretend I’m a sacrifice that can be made. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re noble or a goody-goody.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then—

“I love you so much.” he mumbles.

It’s a rare confession, one that has never lost his sweetness even after years together.

Now this, this is what it means to be a Shroud.

It means staying with each other no matter what.

It couldn't be farther from loneliness.

“I love you too.” you murmur back, and his thumbs trace your blot scars as he presses a single, barely noticeable kiss to your forehead.

[tiredsmashbros]

"happy birthday, bluejay."

2k words ; tsari fanfic

"gAH!" tari yelped as she lost her grip on the wooden plates nailed to the tree. fear of adrenaline rushed inside her veins, glancing a peek below her, acknowledging the height and distance above from the ground. she didn't have a fear of heights, yet it still was an alarming issue to imagine in her mind what could happen if she were to fall.

"w-wOaH! bj, grab my hand!" tsb directed extending his arm out, using his stretchable ability to allow tari a more secure reach. "come on!" he exclaimed, assisting her up until she was finally standing on the wooden surface base marked on their destination. "heh, trying to fall again now are we?" the man chuckled in hopes of lightening the mood, referencing an inside-joke recall based on their first meeting, "but on your birthday? what kind of a crazy bird are you!"

tari giggled, relief dominating over her after finally arriving at the top of tsb's home. "i'm not used to climbing up!" she began, taking a break to catch her breath, "why'd you have to live up so high? it's challenging to come to visit you!" the bluejay spoke glancing her eyes to take in the view as she recovered. she could see the showgrounds perfectly where she stood, watching her friends play in the grass field, and even a clear view of smg3's coffee and bombs. it was just a marvelous view, pondering why she hadn't thought to come here more often. with the wind brushing onto her face, and the shade provided by the tree's leaves to guard from the sun it was evermore peaceful and quiet. her worries gone within an instant, it was relaxing to say.

"then i suppose you'll have to come by more often to see silly o'l me, huh?" tsb responded, opening the entrance door for tari to enter. "birthday girl first~" tsb flirted, forming an exaggerated body gesture for her to enter in. tari shyly smiled and nodded, making her way inside the blue and yellow man's humble abode.

as if it was her first, tari couldn't ever grasp how peculiar and unique tsb's home was structured. the outer appearance appearing as a regular small treehouse built from wood and nails. yet the interior, god the interior was like an entirely whole other world. seemingly cartoonishly larger, covered in bright light blue walls, white clouds painted onto them. additionally, small rainbows scattered around. a giant painted sun on the ceiling, accompanied by multiple small paper-shaped stars assisted with tape dangled down from right above. high enough where her standing wouldn't bother it, but not so high where you couldn't acknowledge them. the area was furniture filled with shelves of unused big and small canvases, all sorts of art materials neatly placed and organized, with the man's silly personality of individually colored beanbags to sit on, and nets filled with all kinds of plushies and toys. it felt like a dream house for an art child really. dried used paint splattered about here and there on the walls and floor adding color to the bright white room.

"still breathtaking for you, birdy? i thought it would still be boring even doing some minor edits here and there." tsb scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment noticing tari's positive expressive expression as she glanced the place up and down, side to side.

"are you kidding? how could i not be? any normal person would find this breathtaking! your place is an absolute dream house, tsb! it's bright, cozy, colorful, and a playground of endless creative creation! i can't get over how you can manage to create this all yourself! very impressive!" tari exclaimed, as her smile stretched up to her cheeks, really absorbing and giving a twirl around the space. excitement fueled her as he bounced about exploring the other familiar areas and all of its satisfying gleam of bright colors. it felt like she truly was up in the clouds or a figment of what she felt was a physical imagination of heaven.

tsb could only watch and giggle from the side. his heart was pounding in glee seeing the bluejay prance about in joy, admiring the work of art he's created for himself to call home. he felt an over beamed of satisfied joy he endlessly craved being appreciated. especially from her. a compliment from anyone would've still been appreciated of course, yet hearing those words coming from her felt like he could die at any moment. and he wouldn't mind.

after some time of tari exploring the area admiring all the nooks and crannies of tsb's dream-like treehouse, tsb finally directed tari to his bedroom. a place he... coming to the realization he had never shown her before up until now. the first time smg4 interrupted them cutting their time short, and other visits were with other guests visiting to do arts and crafts or play board games. yet this was the first since her first visit it was just the two of them. tsb grew nervously anxious as he tiled the sun-shaped knob of his door, allowing entry to the girl he admired most. it was just his room and he truthfully had nothing to hide, yet it was still nerve-racking for him, pondering about her opinion.

"t-this is my room-" before tsb could even continue to create a proper introductory description, tari jolted up in joy, squealing in glee rushing inside to admire the new room, eager to explore. it had the same vibe and aesthetic as the main entrance room, the entire treehouse quite frankly, yet this room specifically was more in the theme of tsb's main colors. yellow and blue! additionally, instead of the walls being painted or scattered with paint, they were filled with drawings drawn on paper of different mediums taped onto the wall.

entering the room revealed tsb's bed, filled with drawings of rainbows and clouds above as seen the theme all over the place. the bed is cuffed below of soft felted cloud-shape border with a uniquely colored placed rainbow for a bed frame. to the right side of the wall was a large window viewing of the sky, and next to it a tall dresser. accompanied by the wall where the door was placed, was filled with drawings she could recognize were drawn from her friends. boopkins, luigi, heck even some dumb doodles from smg3 she recalled tsb telling the tale of them hanging out one night.

the last wall to the left side of the room erupted with colors of different shades of green and brown. taken aback coming to the realization tsb's home lacked the color green almost entirely, let alone any color of brown other than the "disguise" from the exterior. illustrations of trees, squirrels, and small rodents, and what she could make out looked like a television. causing a shiver down her spine being reminded of mr. puzzles, yet these looked nothing like him. furthermore, they looked the same tv of a design with a nice chestnut brown with a cyan-like blue screen. some with hearts, some crossed out even wrinkled, and others... tari stared at it in confusion. she assumed it was an interesting relation due to tsb heavy interest in cartoon shows, he would watch several frequently with mario. however, something inside her told her it meant something else. as if it linked to-

"soooo what do you think, bluejay?" tsb queried, interrupting tari's thoughts. to the bluejay's surprise, he was resting on his bed in a crisscross position with his hands questionably behind his back slightly awkwardly.

"oh! i-it's awesome!" she quickly responded, trying to rid herself pondering over the mystery of this "tv". "i don't recall you ever showing me your room before. what gives! trying to hide more secrets?" she confidently spoke back, removing any possible suspicion. taking a seat next the the cartoony man.

"noo, of course not! just something i suppose i hadn't had the time to show you till now." tari rolled her eyes playfully trying to seem hurtful by his response. tsb giggled.

suddenly, he began to clear his throat, straightening his back, and shifting closer to tari with a slight struggle refusing to use his hands for support. however, fear rose inside as he wondered if he was too close to the bluejay, but she didn't seem bothered and instead mimicked his actions. receiving another giggle from the man feeling his face grow hot. "i uh," tsb began, "i have a gift for you! um..." tsb slowly unhidden his hands to reveal a bird-like figure in his palms. tari began to decipher it being a hand-crafted bluejay figure with a neatly small bowtie around its neck. yet she was utterly confused and speechless, it allowed tsb to continue his monologue. "i'm... not very good at making something supposedly grand like parties or cakes, for someone's orbit around the sun, but i do like handcrafting things for people i... um... admire most." tsb confident outward speech turned to stutters and quiet speech seemingly looking down as he could feel his hands sweat under his golden gloves. "i hope you like this gift-"

"of course i do!~" tari finally bursted into squeals having her hands turn to fists positioned up to her face in an attempt to hide her overly joyous smile. shifting her position to admire the beautifully hand-crafted bluejay more up-close. "it's so cute!~" she squealed once more feeling like she could feel herself almost cry from overstimulated happiness. "how did you use to make it?" she queried swiftly, staring at tsb's shades, eyes wide with sparks of adoration.

tsb only stuttered to find the words, his face growing hotter by the second hearing the beats of his pounding heart inside his ears. "i-i used cardboard to create the base of the shape... and um gluing layers of newspaper to give some texture... a-after painting it with acrylic- nO gouache a-a-and reusing some old thick ribbon i had in my scrapes to gave it a bow!" swiftly adding in the end, "y-you know! because it's a gift! cause it you're birthday! a-and purple to match your eyes! b-because your eyes are purple! oH and this is a bluejay, not a duck i-i-i-im not sure if that was obvious um-"

"it's perfect.~" tari softly interjected, cupping tsb's hands and lowering them down from their chests. "it's adorable of you think of me like that. i've never received a gift like this before... it exactly represents me and considering the thoughts you had i seriously appreciate the effort you put in. it's," tari couldn't help but giggle.

before tsb could muster to search for words to say thank you, tari kissed tsb on the cheek. "it's really cute. thank you.~" shots of physical cloud of air flew out of tsb's ears, face even red than the color red itself, stunned and completely flustered he sat there frozen. tari once again giggled seeing the clouds of smoke coming out of their ears like a real-life cartoon, yearning to see what more of a reaction she can get. she was always fascinated by tsb's strange cartoonish nature she just simply adored him more and more. nothing about him could ever bore her. 

just if by instinct, she removed her hands from tsb and reached out to remove tsb shades. settling it down by the bed, gazing admirably into his brown eyes as they were shifting animatedly to pink hearts back and forth. "t-tari-" tsb started, but was unfortunately cut off by someone outside. turning his eyes into pupils with red outlines from surprise.

"tari!" a familiar voice called, "TARI!" smg4 called again louder.

"smg4 must have the party essentials ready. we should go till he gets impatient hehe!" tari stood up from the bed grabbing the bluejay gift with one hand while the other grabs for the cartoon man's glove. 

"y-yeah..." he replied, still stunned by what happened. eventually after a soft tug from tari, he regained his senses and threw back his shades on. springing off the bed and following tari out of his room. 

"you think there'll be cake left after mario gets to it first?" tsb asked.

tari chuckled, "i doubt it." 

END

[mae-i-scribble]

tonight i was thinking about orv’s theme about how yjh as a character, and to a larger extent people, will in some ways always be unknowable. (orv spoilers following, read at your own risk)

i feel like i’ve seen a few posts on here that somewhat take this theme to an extreme, leaning *hard* into that “kdj doesn’t actually know yjh like at all” which while on the right track, i feel completely misses the point. Orv goes out of its way to showcase that kdj actually understands yjh to a scary degree, even once they’re out of the early scenarios and the gap between kdj’s knowledge and yjh’s personhood grows larger, there are still things about yjh that *only* kdj can fundamentally understand. And I don’t think that the novel does anything to discredit that understanding, only says that there is much more to yjh. In the same manner, even if you’ve known someone for years, spent all your time with them, there can and will always be new things for you to learn about them. The danger that orv speaks of is trusting in that assumption, that your understanding will be enough and you don’t have to keep an eye out for more developments. That the person you know will forever stay the same. And this isn’t a kdj problem either, fundamentally a lot of the big disagreements that happen between kdj and yjh in the latter half of the novel are born from both of them misconstruing what the other is thinking, trusting that their understanding of the other is deep enough to base their judgements off of. (Post first murim destruction, divorce arc, yjh thinking kdj scattered his soul on purpose, etc.)

As always with orv’s themes, we can view it in a meta sense as well. Kdj’s understanding of yjh as a character is so complete that it’s nearly flawless- until the story begins to deviate and a yjh grows outside the parameters that kdj’s judgements are based on. Even before then, there was always more to yjh- but as readers, we can only understand a character as much as we see them. What you come away with from a story is your complete understanding, there is no growth outside of those boundaries because then it wouldn’t be an understanding of *that* character, you would be putting your own ideas and such into it. But talk to another person, and suddenly the same character you understand so clearly becomes someone else. Talk to the author, and they say something completely different. And can one truly claim to understand a character when the story will never talk about them in every conceivable way? What does it take to truly understand such a thing? Learning that 1863rd round hsy wrote ways of survival with such limited resources and knowledge on who yjh even is, and yet despite it all, still manages to write a story that captures so much of his essence. As orv readers, we know it isn’t everything- it could never encapsulate all of yjh, but the idea that even when one knows nearly nothing, you can still put on a facade of understanding.

We can get into a chicken or the egg argument with this, as 1863!hsy dictates how yjh acts with her writing, and that yjh in the 1863rd round is the one she comes to know before ever starting this story, but when it comes to this theme of the unknowable in the people around us, I don’t think this sort of debate is worth much. We know that yjh exists outside the story written, and how much of him is determined by hsy’s writing is negligible because no matter what, he always grows beyond it. Whether as 1864 or secretive plotter, it all comes back to that same point of there is always more to see within a person.

I don’t know quite where I want to go with this, only that I wanted an outlet for some of these thoughts inside my head, but one of the best things about this theme for me is how it answers itself. When the people around you become unrecognizable, what should you do? And orv says to reach out. To try. To understand. Kdj loses access to omniscient reader several times but always, always gains it back in orv (as far as i remember), because at the end of the day, he is not someone who stays trapped in his idea of who he knows yjh to be. Yjh too, even at the end of orv, is trying to learn more and more about kdj. Only when you are willing to hear out the other person, to learn about them every day, does this unknowable aspect become something less daunting.

[triglycercule]

horror has KR dust can't be affected by KR unless it's by another version of himself. horror's (somehow) still a judge dust wants repentance for his wrongdoings,,,, someone must see where i'm going with this

i just wanna imagine like if dust ever feels like he's doing something wrong (like having thoughts about gaining LV again or something,,,,) he'll just ask horror to give him like. a quick little punch. hit him with a bone fragment because he needs to feel his sins crawling on his back from a true judge,,,,

and then horror's more than happy to do it 😁😁😁 he winds that shit up before he bitch slaps dust :33 oh you need to be judged DONT WORRY DUST horror is a totally impartial judge that totally won't find your situation both ridiculous and entertaining 😁😁

[expectiations]

Thinking of how "left me like a book on a shelf" is from River's POV and therefore does not mean it is the entirety of the story much like how "the Doctor does not and has never loved me" was uttered from a River who was grieving.

Like the Doctor could have spent a long time putting the TARDIS in stationary orbit around the Library. The Doctor could have puttered about with the Library from years before it was shut down to ensure that everything would go smoothly while doing his best not to change a single thing. And on days when it is too hard, he just stares at the Library from his perch on the TARDIS door. Waiting, hoping, thinking. Trying to find a way out for her. For them.

And he does!

He finds a hundred ways to get her out of the data core. But...something always goes wrong. It's somehow never good enough. She's back, but she's not entirely there.

So he scratches it out, slaps himself, and tries again.

And again.

And again.

But his plans always fail.

But they don't. Not really. His plans could work. Could have worked. His beloved Sexy would help him. She'd always help him when it comes to her Water. But he was too scared. Too frightened of failure. Because one single mistake. One. Single. Mistake. And she's gone. He can never get her back. Forever.

So he runs. And runs. And runs. Until centuries has gone by and companion come and gone. Until he met a younger, more alive version of her. And then they had Darillium. And oh the joys of wonderful joys, what a night that was.

But things end. Even for him. They had to part ways again. Had to say goodbye. So he tries again. Picks up what his previous self had shelved. He tries. Oh how he tries.

But still. That fear exists. Is it worth it? Can he finally accomplish what he'd started a literal lifetime ago?

(He doesn't.)

Off on another lifetime with a new body. He's a...she now? Oh and shorter! Wow. That's new! I wonder what Ri–

On the rare moments she allows herself to succumb to sleep she goes to their his her study. She takes a moment to take everything in. It's unrecognizable now – the study that once was theirs filled with warmth and laughter and-

Every single space was taken. Covered by plans of plans of plans spanning...two...lifetimes now. Sexy still kept it just as it was the last time he she had been in there.

Their His Her favorite throw was still where it was – on their his her favorite corner of their his her favorite couch.

Nothing had changed but everything had changed.

She curled up and buried her face hoping it would still smell of her (It did. They never knew how it worked but somehow her smell still lingered anyway. They thought they were hallucinating at first but other people had been able to smell it too. Sometimes they forget but Sexy also lost her too).

She was a he again. The same face they had four lifetimes ago. The same face who was the first to keep the memory of their meeting.

But wh- what? Why? How? Is this it? Is this the body that finally brings her back home? A fitting act really. He put her in there and so he'll also put her out of there.

But... she wasn't there. Nothing was there. Nothing but chunks of debris and ashes and smelted...somethings.

When he blinked his eyes open (when had he closed them?), Donna's worried face greeted him. He blinked again and blinked. Nothing changed. Everything has changed. He had waited for far too long. He had made her wait for far. too. long. He feared of failing her but now he actually has failed her.

Everything was bland now. Was it just him or is everything a bit...on the side of grey? Donna looks at him like he might break. (He won't. He's a Time Lord. Time Lords don't break.) Even Sylvia had taken to treating him a bit more kindly.

He goes off alone with Sexy. His return to the Noble-Temple (Temple-Noble) household becomes fewer and further in between. One day he finds himself in Venice. Wonderful Venice. His Pond and her Roman (who wasn't yet a Roman) had gone here. There were vampires. And running and –

River?

No silly. River wasn't there.

He blinked. And blinked again. Made sure the sky was blue and the clouds still fluffy white. But was that his leather jacket that just whizzed by past him? Wait. Hold on. That was... Was that? Oh no. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Did they? No. They couldn't have.

But of course, apparently they did. Because that was actually his leather jacket wearing self that just passed by him again(?) tugging along his very-much-not-dead wife along running from... Hold on. Why are they running? What- Who's shooting at her?!

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Dazai Likes People

Ok. So this is probably not the analysis you think it is. I'm not going to talk Dazai's dynamics with specific characters - I think that's better suited to personal interpretation and I've kind of already gone over my thoughts on Dazai's close relationships starting with this analysis here.

Instead, this is more about Dazai's thoughts on human beings in general, which, admittedly, can be a little hard to parse. There's a variety of thoughts on this amongst the fandom, ranging from the one extreme of "he loves people" to the other "he doesn't care at all".

This is merely my own thoughts on the matter. I don't know if this fully counts as an analysis, but I hope it at least sparks some discussion or helps piece some things together.

As you might've gathered from the title, I lean towards the idea that he likes people. There's always been things he's liked about people, as a matter of fact, but I think the nature of what he likes about them has changed across his development.

In fact, I would go so far as to say that Dazai's development as a character is, rather than a behavioural shift, instead based on his changing perception of human nature, and the value found in human connection. His methods are largely similar, however, the thought behind them and the direction they're given is different.

I'm going to be jumping around a bit with the timeline, so here's the core ideas in advance just so it's easier to follow.

Belief #1: "People are stronger in groups than individually." This has not changed across his character arc.

Belief #2: "There is a divide between myself and humanity that cannot be broached." to "Some of that divide may not be as wide as it seems." This development is still ongoing and key to his overall character conflict.

Belief #3: "Attachment is an incomprehensible motivator." to "Attachment is a reliable human drive." Take a close look at how his plans change as he ages.

Belief #4: "People just can't stop killing each other." to "There is beauty in the fighting human spirit." This one is a bit more conjecture based on hints in the story, but I think it holds some weight.

Belief #1: Groups over Individuals

This point requires very little explanation. If you look at the intro to the DHC conflict, linked here, you’ll find that he actually says it outright.

"What's more, you underestimated the power found in organizations. Humans are stronger in groups than they are as individuals. That's just the undeniable truth, Mr. One Man Army."

Again, in Stormbringer, Dazai confidently says the following:

"This is how the world works. It's an absolute truth no matter when or where you go. Groups are stronger than individuals...There's strength in numbers."

This is a canonical belief of his that he holds very strongly to, and at a young age at that. This is a primarily logical value to place on others. It's interesting though, because it goes beyond just "strength in numbers".

His further dialogue in the DHC prologue has him go on to respond to Shibusawa asking if the reason he joined the Mafia had to do with the strength in a group affirmatively. It ties in quite interestingly with what he tells Odasaku in The Day I Picked Up Dazai as the reason he should consider joining the Mafia, and Oda's own thoughts on the organization.

If one of their members is attacked by an outsider, they will turn into a row of fangs and bite the enemies.

"If you join, you will no longer be bothered by anything from your past. Because no past can touch that place."

He's said to speak with some pride about the organization in this scene. It's not just about strength. It's about safety. It's about knowing someone has your back. It is, ultimately, about trust.

So, really, it's no wonder that Dazai thrives in, and is honestly at his best, when working in partnerships.

The comfort in partnerships appears to have come rather quickly to Dazai in Fifteen; he works seamlessly with Chuuya after only a few minutes planning and is much more "alive" than in the previous scenes. We see a similar level of confidence, even unusually brazen cockiness, when working with him again in chapter 31. Dazai also works fluidly and has incredible faith in Kunikida, which explains their flawless teamwork in Entrance Exam.

He appears to be at his most confident when he is working with someone else. Look at these facial expressions.

So, it's no surprise that his response to crafting a way to protect Yokohama... is to create another partnership - this time between Atsushi and Akutagawa. And it's clearly not just for ability complements, but also some kind of genuine belief they have what it takes to support each other, if Chapter 84 and Beast are any indication.

It's about trust, in your partner and in your group. It always has been.

Belief #2: The Divide from Humanity

This divide comprises much of the fundamental core and conflict of Dazai's character - his disconnect and alienation from "humanity".

Again, this is not something I really have to defend - this becomes readily apparent to anyone who is the least bit familiar with the author's actual work, No Longer Human, from a cursory read through the manga, and is really quite obvious in the light novels, especially Dark Era, Fifteen and Stormbringer. As of now, it's still an ongoing aspect to his character, and if Oda's words are to be believed, he will likely always struggle with this disconnect to some extent.

However, there's a difference in how this aspect manifests in his dynamics with others across time.

Initially, it is a little like Dazai is unclear on how he differs from others; he only knows that he does in some way. He responds to Mori asking him why he wants to die with genuinely innocent confusion on why one would find worth in living, and responds to Chuuya stopping him from shooting the body with surprise and a simple admittance that not doing such a thing would be the "normal" way to think, before laughing it off.

By Stormbringer and Dark Era, Dazai is all too aware of what is "different" about him - that is, his apparent inability to connect with others in a meaningful way. However, I need to stress that this distance is also at least partially self-imposed. Dazai has internalized his differences from others, his lack of humanity, and decided to put up a front of being some inhuman mafia monster. Think "I am a man hated by righteousness" before repeatedly firing at Akutagawa.

Even with this initial uncertainty, there's one thing he's been quite clear on as different since the beginning: his high intellect, and he wields it like a weapon, appearing somewhat proud of at least this aspect of his distance from others. He's almost cocky about it, complains of boredom, and usually becomes interested in people when they sidestep or outright defy his predictions. It's something we see quite a lot of in his Mafia days and also a little in Entrance Exam. While he appears to grow more attached to people who live their lives in the midst of seeming meaninglessness than those who observe from the sidelines the way he does, he also comes off a bit envious in the same respect, especially when younger.

In some way, I wonder if this doesn't mirror Mykola's envy of those who "don't know they're stuck in a cage", in that sort of ‘how do people not see what I see’ kind of way, or 'if they do, then how can they deal with it'. Dazai’s intellect is rather like a double-edged sword - while it allows him a distinct advantage in prediction he enjoys, it’s likely also a strong contributor to his loneliness and separation from others, much like Ranpo. However, while Ranpo externalized his issues and thought there was something wrong with everyone else, Dazai internalized his and believed there was something wrong with him, which unfortunately caused him to isolate himself even further, rather as a self-fulfilling prophecy regarding the next point.

Dazai is a bit odd about his perceived inhumanity, because on one hand, he wields it when necessary much like his intellect, but on the other, he is almost dismayed by any reminders of his differences from "normal" people, even a bit hurt. A prime example of this is in the Dead Apple prologue, at Chuuya's "no one would believe that" line, but can also be found to a lesser extent in certain interactions in Fifteen, Dark Era, and Stormbringer. A lot of the complexity in Dazai's character comes from this juxtaposition - the mental superiority vs the human inferiority. So, he feels isolated in two ways: one is intellectually, which he tends to see as an advantage, and two is a bit harder to narrow down, but roughly has to do with the nature of the human self and its connections, for which he feels lacking.

Interestingly, Dazai seems to regard people with similarities to himself as threatening, and even gets uncharacteristically direct about how he is going to stop/kill them (Fyodor, Q). An interesting case occurs in Entrance Exam. Entrance Exam is really valuable for looking at Dazai's character because it is very much a transitory period for him, and there is one part in particular close to the end that gives me chills, both in the action and the implications of the action.

I am, of course, talking about the part where Dazai arranges Sasaki's death.

I'm going to expand on this later on once I do my analysis focusing on Sasaki herself, but her and Dazai have some pretty notable similarities between them that I heavily believe Dazai was aware of close to the end. For now, the most important similarity is the way they manipulate others - Sasaki's selective distribution of and often misleading info created situations that encouraged most of the people she contacted to act entirely on their own accord but also in the exact way she intended, without her having to do anything herself. This is quite eerily similar to the way Dazai tends to operate (though I'd say in his case with a bit more finesse that comes from Mori's strategic training).

And Dazai... he arranges her death using this same method. He kicks the gun, Rokuzou picks it up and shoots her out of revenge - and Dazai didn't have to do a single thing.

"She killed too many people."

So have you.

"That was the only way to save her. This was the best we could've hoped for."

........

I think I'll just leave it at that. There's a lot more to this complicated situation that deserves a thorough analysis of it's own, but I do think that the only means in his mind to save an empty, apathetic person who was responsible for too many deaths was to kill her says quite a bit about his mentality at that point.

But that appears to be changing.

I loved that Asagiri confirmed that Dazai's words to Kyouka in Chapters 34 to 36 are genuine. He's being probably as close to honest as we've ever seen. And we know this, because who shows up?

Why hello, Odasaku silhouette. Dazai knows full well how similar Kyouka and Odasaku are - their situations, even their dispositions, I'd say, and the way the both of them seem to unwittingly trigger character development in the people around them lol. But there's more to it than just that.

"Every person has their good and bad points, and your bad point happens to be killing. That's why you think you can't become an Agency member. That's just stupid."

"No one can know everything. That's what possibility is."

"You are not the only person with this kind of distress."

"Why do we fight? How should we live on? There is no one who can tell you the answer. All we have is our right to waver."

None of this is something I'd expect Mafia Dazai, or even Entrance Exam Dazai to say. This is someone who, from my perspective, has the barest, slightest will to live on.

"No one can know everything." In spite of his intelligence, in spite of his eerily accurate predictions, this admittance means that his perception of that intellectual distance is likely somewhat decreasing. He's still on a tier far above most other people... but he's closer to them than he is to a god. He cannot know everything.

It's similar to what he tells Sigma in Chapter 105.

"It's all a play of hands. I'm not a superhuman beyond the limits of human wisdom."

The emotional gap may also be closing a little. I think fondly of Dazai's dry "Don't you have any friends?" to Shibusawa in Dead Apple, then following up Shibusawa's dramatic 'I understand everyone so much that everyone bores me but don't understand myself' spiel with "You wouldn't be saying that if you had friends." Dazai really said friendless behaviour, pfft.

There's also his "I wonder how Kunikida-kun is doing~!" in the prison and his internal (and I thought oddly fond) comparison of Sigma to Atsushi.

Still, though, there is a significant gap in the way he removes himself from other people. Even as Dazai affirms his belief that it is the people who fight through uncertainty and live and breathe within it that create the greatest change, he still excludes himself from that category, placing himself, alongside Fyodor, above all others yet paradoxically inferior in the ability to enact real influence, sitting alone in a prison at the end of the world.

Belief #3: Attachment as a Motive

"I see... so it's all for your partner. Betraying the Mafia, spreading rumours about the old boss's resurrection, this fight we're in now... it's kind of hard to believe, to be honest."

Dazai, in his earliest appearances, seems to underestimate the drastic lengths people will go to in the name of the people they care about. The above line to Rimbaud, after he reveals he did all that he did to find out what happened to Verlaine, indicates that while he does understand bonds between others, he fails to grasp how that could be so incredibly motivating - whereas by contrast, Chuuya understands it instantly.

In fact, earlier in Fifteen, Chuuya's assistance is assured by Mori's capture of the Sheep members, which prevents Chuuya from harming anyone - Mori weaponizes this attachment and responsibility Chuuya has to great effect, and points it out to a bemused Dazai, who doesn't... really care. Dazai seems much more intrigued by the growing strife between the Sheep and their leader, and amusedly pinpoints Chuuya as a "sheep getting stared down by a wolf", before intentionally ramping up the tension. Dazai weaponized the cracks that were already showing between them, and while he seems to have started to acknowledge the importance of attachment as a powerful motivator, unlike Chuuya who sees it as honourable, Dazai at this point seems to regard it as a weakness to be exploited.

While Dazai absolutely shows budding signs of attachment himself in Fifteen and Stormbringer, it's nowhere near enough for it to be a key motivator of his own. He runs on logic. His plans are practical, precise and take no chances; a logical strategist much like Mori.

But that all changes with Odasaku. Odasaku's impact on Dazai was undeniably the strongest motivator for change he's had, but I want to talk a little about Dazai's side of things, and his unusual devotion towards his friend. For as much as Dazai is evasive, incredibly concerning, and apparently added some kind of stimulant to a dish he made for the trio without telling them (!?? bro.), when it comes down to it and things get serious, Dazai is, surprisingly enough, an objectively good friend to Odasaku. He gets panicked when he realizes Odasaku happened on Shibusawa during the DHC. He tells him immediately he doesn't need to use the Silver Oracle to ask for his help. He apologizes for killing the snipers in front of him because he knows Odasaku doesn't like killing (even if, at this point, he doesn't know why he holds this philosophy). He arranges for the kids to be hidden in a safe location once it becomes obvious Gide is targeting Odasaku. He tries to convince Odasaku he can find a reason to live, even though he doesn't, at that point, have one himself. He runs to him at the end, even when it is pointless, even when it is not logical, all because that's his friend. And this isn't even touching Beast Dazai, who wasn't even friends with the guy but saw that another him was, and decided he would do everything he did to protect that one person's dream (thereby missing what Odasaku wanted for him, which also, incidentally, was for his friend to live on, but I digress). Dazai is a surprisingly incredibly devoted friend to him. This guy experienced close friendship and it completely changed his perspective, because he'd never had anything like that before. Connection and understanding are extremely powerful motivators. He knows this now. It's in everything he does. The person is gone, but the bond remains, and it drives him to this day.

It's also important to point out that while we haven't seen the turning point in Double Black's dynamic where they went from uneasy partnership to that intense trust, Chuuya is the poster boy for attachment as a ridiculously strong motive for living. His decision to risk everything for the sake of those he has sworn to protect means that Chuuya is reliable. So, suddenly, Dazai doesn't need to make such stringent plans with him - they can be more loose about it, yet still perfectly in sync. "Chuuya is a reliable partner" is not an opinion to Dazai, it's a fact. Attachment as strength, not weakness. I feel reasonably confident in saying he likely learned this first from Chuuya. It gives him the power to persevere through the pain. It's not always fragile. It can be relied on. Chuuya struggles through his life and finds purpose in his bonds with others, and Dazai, both envious and admiring, picks up that he can utilize this in his plans.

Dazai making plans in the Agency is a little different to how he makes them in the Mafia. While there is still hefty reliance on logic and trickery, there's now an extra caveat of social and moral expectation. Dazai makes plans, knowing that people will carry them out because of the kind of people they are. He's making character judgements, not purely logical ones.

While Mori and Fyodor are also capable of much the same, it's rather unlike their methods, as they use attachment, often by leveraging it. Dazai can and does do this too, but notably, Dazai's allies are also regularly left to act in accordance to what they believe to be right without much direct interference - Dazai uses but also relies on this attachment to people and morality. It's odd, because in a sense, it's both an accurate logical prediction and a form of trust. Many of his plans in the present involve people doing what they would have done anyways given their character, but in a narrowed scope that comes from Dazai's influencing of them and the situation. He knows Ranpo will take charge when the Agency is threatened. He knows Atsushi will risk it all for his friends and family and people who remind him of his younger self. He knows Kunikida will never accept lives being lost if there is something he can do about it. He, highly unfortunately, knows Akutagawa will do anything to gain the recognition he seeks.

It's odd, because while undoubtedly still a manipulative tactic, he also has to know, for certain, that these people will act on their morals, drives, and bonds, otherwise it quite literally would not work. Is it manipulation? Is it trust? I lean towards both. Whatever the case may be, it is clear that Dazai finds at least some value in attachment (even if he, again, still largely detaches himself from pure expressions of this kind of motive - Odasaku was the major exception).

When Fyodor says people are sinful and can't help killing each other even when they know they're being manipulated to it and Dazai replies with yes, and? "What's so wrong with that?"

The way Chuuya wins against Verlaine, because he cared for people and Verlaine, in spite of everything, had at least one person he didn't want to let die. The way Gab might not have met such a tragic end if he'd had the chance to connect the way Atsushi had. The way the isolated Sigma ultimately falls, and Tachihara finds new purpose and drive from his conflicting bonds that should've weakened him but instead gave him conviction.

Attachment can be a foolish thing. It can be logically irrational, and in certain cases leaves one vulnerable, but it's not inherently a weakness. It can also be the source of incredible strength and perseverance. Human connection is the beating, bleeding heart of this series. The Agency barely took a breath after being framed before they were preparing to hold their own and prove their innocence - because the Agency meant something more to them than just a workplace. It's their place to belong. They rally to protect it and each other, just as Dazai knew they would, and he, too, is taking great risks to protect it.

Which brings me to the last point.

Belief #4: Beauty in the Fight

Fyodor and Dazai are foil characters - they are intellectual equals, and their methods of thinking and planning tend to be very similar. However, motivation-wise, they are very different - Fyodor says things like the above, clearly with a low opinion on most others. While Dazai agrees with the statement, he disagrees with the sentiment.

"What's so wrong with that?"

But I'll be honest: I don't think he always felt that way. In fact, I suspect he used to feel similarly to Fyodor when he was younger.

In Fifteen, Dazai describes the situation with the Sheep as similar to the "Undercooked Meat Theory" to Rimbaud, which acts as an analogy for violence - everyone wants to eat more of the meat, so one takes it earlier to get more than everyone else, then another takes it even earlier to get more than that guy, and so on and so forth until they are all eating undercooked meat. Here are some key points from that conversation:

Dazai: "If one person stops, he alone will end up with less meat than the other two. Therefore, each of them is trapped, forced to eat the undercooked meat and nothing else, even though all three know that perfectly cooked meat tastes much better."

Dazai: "It explains at least half the misery in the entire world."

Rimbaud: "I see... in other words, since everyone pursued what was best for them, they couldn't achieve what was best for the group..."

Rimbaud: "Violence and war are not necessary for survival... if everyone agreed to stop fighting and banned all weapons - then violence would be no more. But that isn't realistic. No matter what, someone will break the rules to get ahead of the rest... everyone else... would have to maintain their stance on fighting back only when provoked."

Although Dazai expresses his interest in the criminal underworld as a "thrill", there's cause to believe this dog-eat-dog world is something that Dazai himself personally does not like. After all, shortly afterwards, when Chuuya crashes onto the scene and proclaims that "the strongest always win", Dazai disgustedly says,

"It's people like you who turn the world into undercooked meat."

In a way, it almost reminds me a bit of what Teruko proclaims about what a rubbish society it would be if those with the strongest violence always ended up on top. That's her purpose, as a Hunting Dog - to use violence to stop criminals - but violence to maintain order is still violence. Violence begets violence, but you can't just not defend yourself in a world that wants to hurt you. And so the world goes round, and people still kill each other, often quite needlessly.

It seems both Fyodor and Dazai shared the mentality that people are all the same, self-centered and out to protect themselves at the cost of others; sinful, boring beings. Except Fyodor, a more proactive person, decided he was going to try and fix the problem. Dazai, prone to inaction, did not... and saw nothing interesting in the world worth living for.

"It explains at least half the misery in the world." I wonder, does it explain some of Dazai's misery too? He appears to be drawn to the Mafia, not because of the violence in itself, but because of the honesty with which it is approached. You know what you're getting, with organized crime - there's going to be crime, and death, and murder. The proximity to death is a removal of the veil of social acceptability; the mask over the world - Dazai is hoping that by getting closer to the cruel world's "reality", he'll be able to find that something that the people around him would kill for in order to live.

Unlike Fyodor though, who still sees people as boring for their foolishness, Dazai apparently seems to find them interesting by this point. What changed?

It's worth noting that even though Dazai genuinely thought Chuuya was just an arrogant, violent kid before the confrontation with Rimbaud, in an earlier fight scene, Dazai goes breathless at Chuuya's battle prowess. That sheer display of life and energy and raw destruction is something captivating to him. And that's interesting, because that fight there was one he had just previously been deriding Chuuya for starting - it was pointless violence, to him - and yet, he can't help but watch.

So, when the Arahabaki reveal happens and Dazai suddenly realizes he'd been mistaken about Chuuya, it triggers a shift. Chuuya wasn't looking for power. Chuuya was looking for himself.

In Fifteen, Dazai is intrigued by Chuuya's situation. In Stormbringer, Dazai is invested in Chuuya's story.

Once again, Dazai watches Chuuya fight as he relinquishes control to use the full power of Corruption, carefully watching the progression of it all. When Chuuya turns fallen angel, Dazai says to himself, "That's Arahabaki's - that's Chuuya's true form." This incredible show of strength is not just the result of a raw power. This is the will of a human who has something worth fighting for. Chuuya is not a blank vessel for Arahabaki. Arahabaki is Chuuya's to wield. This is all Chuuya, through and through.

Chuuya, caught in the act of dying, in a last-ditch play that could easily be a self-sacrificial one, surrounded by death and destruction, is nonetheless fighting with all the life within him to defend the lives of his people, with the symbol of his stubborn will to survive (that is, Arahabaki, the singularity that should've killed him) on full wrath and display. To the death-obsessed kid who wanted a reason to live, who did not see why people would fight so hard to live on, such a sight would be breathtaking.

Dazai is drawn to the people who struggle through hardship, and the ones who rebel in the name of valuing life. He becomes interested in Ango when he finds the reports he made on the DHC dead, that he made to preserve their lives even without Mori's permission. Dazai does not want to compromise Odasaku's morals, and is deeply fascinated by the juxtaposition of his Mafia status and his no killing rule, though he doesn't pry for the reason. With Kunikida, much as Dazai does not care much for ideals, he sees how Kunikida keeps on pushing through against every setback and horribly cruel reality check, and I honestly think he respects that.

Then there's this bit when Atsushi has just succeeded in getting Q's doll safely to Dazai after the curse on Yokohama.

"It was your spirit that emerged victorious."

He likes it when people succeed. He wants to see people triumph, against all odds.

I find it fascinating because Dazai becomes most invested in the aspects of the characters that we tend to get invested in - we, the readers, which makes a lot of sense given his consistent observer status. The story is never actively about Dazai, but he's always there, watching others' stories unfold, growing fascinated with the struggles they face and the development they undergo, and feeling pride and admiration when they learn to overcome.

But the tragedy in Dark Era in part was a vicious reminder that the story impacts him too, no matter how much he tries to detach himself - to become invested and connected is to open yourself up to the inevitability of getting hurt. But it's also in this struggle to find balance that we are open to make change, and to live.

Fighting to save a life - even and especially when that life is just your own - there is beauty to be found in that fight.

[ch3rrybite]

stars ☾ ⋆:⋆*･ﾟ

i love you in whispers, soft as breath, slipping through spaces you’ll never see— a secret sealed in quiet places, the shadowed parts of me.

you, with your sunlit laugh, all easy and open, pulling me close like it means nothing, when it means everything. you touch my shoulder, link our arms, and i hold still, try to keep my heart from spilling out between us.

you talk about him, the new boy with kind eyes, and i nod, always nodding, learning to hold my smile in place, even when my chest aches. i tell myself this is enough, this closeness, even as i want for more.

there are days when the sky stretches out, blue and endless, like all the things i’ll never say. and i sit here, loving you quietly, like a habit i can’t break.

you, the impossible dream i keep tucked away, a wish whispered to the stars that will never come true.

[piningpercussionist]

transfem scott getting lots of support from ramona and kim in the early 2000's when shit's very taboo but they all 3 have a fire forged bond and lord if they aren't going to make sure they're all as happy as they can be because they've come this far and I dunno it just makes me happy all three of them

YES YES YES

It makes me very happy as well,,

Like I've said before. General Trans Scott enthusiast here- I love the idea of their little support network *violent coughing* I (we?) mean polycule *violent coughing* so fucking much.

Ramona I think has a bit of a more gentle hand with reassuring Scott with gender issues, but sometimes she just can't help herself from some pointed banter or teasing- how could you with someone so dense? (Said w affection)

And then Kim I think is more blunt. But like, in a good way mostly, you know? The kinda blunt that makes you snap to attention and go "Oh. Yeah that was silly of me." And if Ramona's started some sort of banter? Kim is SO piling on. Maybe sometimes she's a bit TOO blunt with it- but it's only because she's so firm in her support. She wants Scott to Get It Together- and be happier for it. So if some ribbing now and again is in order, then goddamnit she will do so! Anything to crack that shell.

And ohhh can you imagine how they would react to some transphobic bullshit?? Unholy terror would be driven into the offender before they walk off with an absurd amount of coins between them. I can feel it in my bones. Scott doesn't even have to lift a finger (if the transphobe is even noticed/processed at all, bc I honestly can see Scott just. Not realizing someone's being transphobic.) Kim giving someone a lashing with her tongue as distraction and then Ramona coming in with the hammer- BAM! Free Money! Paying literally with your life for your transphobia. A Better And Just World.

And of course (transfem Scott more specifically, here,) the way Scott would start to flourish under their support... cagey and maybe a little (perhaps a lot-) resistant to start- but Kim's blunt affirmations and no nonsense attitude for bullshit (which is what Scott insisting on "being cis" would be, c'mon now,) and Ramona's also low bullshit tolerance but less Stabby (bc I won't lie, that's probably how Kim's comments would feel,) assurances? Ough... My Heart... Be Still-

I would Kill for them, Your Honor-

(Ran out of tags so putting this in the body of the post- I am SO tired someone pls sound off if this isn't as coherent as I am hoping this is. I WAS trying to nap and get the extra sleep I desperately needed but the writing bug... it Bit Me.... only a little but enough to stop that process-)

[crescentfool]

i've been doing a bunch of tartarus runs in reload lately, and it got me thinking about how i miss certain ways FES's clunky gameplay can characterize minato… (ramble about the great clock mechanic + leveling up party members in reload vs fes under the cut)

when i got to yabbashah block in tartarus (block 3), i remember commending the developers for adding the great clock mechanic. it's a much more convenient way to keep party members at the protagonist's level- so when you think about p3 from the perspective of trying to make it easier for people to play, the mechanic succeeds in this respect.

but now that i'm in adamah block, and that i've done lots of my once-a-month tartarus runs… i think that i got a little too dependent on it, and the way that i played through reload feels like a vastly different experience from how i played FES.

in reload, my party's levels are very lopsided. minato, yukari, akihiko, mitsuru, and fuuka are all level 90+, meanwhile junpei and aigis are at level 79, and then… poor ken and koromaru are at 71 and 64 respectively. (i never got to have a great clock for them…)

meanwhile, in FES, my party's levels were much more evenly distributed and were at least level 90. i did all of this manually for every monthly tartarus run because i enjoyed having options available for the taratarus guardians and monthly operations.

with how i perceive minato, i feel that the way i played FES feels more in-line with his character than me dawdling around waiting for the great clocks in reload.

FES's gameplay loop left me with the very strong impression that minato has to work twice as hard as everyone else in SEES does. it makes sense because, yeah, he's the leader, but something about having minato run through tartarus multiple times with different groups of people just to make sure that they are adequately prepared speaks volumes about his character, to me.

and while the tired mechanic is present in reload to some degree, most notably with allowing you to freely raise your courage stat when you visit edogawa after school… the tiredness system doesn't hit the same way that FES does, i think.

the way your party members in FES will call it quits when they return to the entrance floor at tartarus when they're tired, versus minato, in spite of all his tiredness and sickness, still pushes through tartarus because it's his responsibility…. idk!!! i miss that! i feel like this really hammers home the difference between minato and the rest of SEES, how minato doesn't really see himself as a human with needs worth respecting as long as he's useful to someone.

i don't think that tartarus being tedious (in FES especially) is not what most people would describe as fun, and i can respect people thinking it's a slog. but, regardless of how it feels to play, it doesn't change that FES's gameplay loop is a fundamental building block in how i perceive minato…

of course, i do recognize that you can just opt to NOT use the great clock in reload (and it's great when players are offered the choice to not partake in mechanics)! i definitely think that if someone really wanted to, they could manually level up party members, but i do feel that kind of playstyle isn't necessarily "incentivized" to the type of people who are into playing games for Having a Good Time. it's kind of like… "why would you do that when there's a much more convenient option available to you."

in any case! despite my woes, i do want to emphasize that i'm glad that reload has a much more smoother gameplay loop than the original P3 did, because it does make the game more accessible to people. having played both FES and reload, it feels very strongly apparent to me how the core gameplay formula of persona has really been refined in the past 18 years (to think og p3 was 2006 and reload is 2024.. time flies!). and reload has made revisiting a story that i love so dearly much, much easier because the gameplay just bops!

at the same time, due to my "i miss characterization informed by weird and dated FES gameplay quirks" woes, i still think that playing FES is worthwhile. (really, i feel this way about all iterations of p3! i think it's worthwhile to see what each version and side media has to say even if it doesn't Land™ for you.) but i also understand why people wouldn't want to play it, so i will keep writing posts about things i liked from FES's gameplay because i'm still very fond of FES (especially in respects to minato. these mechanics are so telling about him!!!) 💪

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF SHENKO 1/?

The end of the world has a way of reminding you of all the things you forgot to say do. Mass Effect: Legendary Edition (2021)

[memento-morri-writes]

More dnd writing because it's all I have but I here's a snippet from a vignette I did of Rook's past (from Zara's POV), because Rook and his mentors never fails to make me sick (/pos).

[transcript under the cut]

Taking a coin out of her pocket, she rolled it across her knuckles, back and forth. It gave her hands something to do, and prevented the urge to bite her nails, something she hadn’t done in years. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Zara began to pace as Rook’s breathing grew shakier and the color drained from his skin. Where the hells is Jay? she wondered. The room was so quiet that she could hear every tick of the small clock on her bedside table, and each one echoed in her head. How many ticks does he have left? She didn’t want to think about it.  She’d had crew members die before, of course. You don’t go as many years as a captain as she had and never lose a soul. But all the others who had died had died quickly, in combat. She’d mourned for all of them, even shed tears in private, but there was something different about watching the life drain out of a person right in front of your eyes.

[hitorimaron]

bonus:

[capn-twitchery]

tiny explanation on lack of Stuff lately is that my brain has for some reason nosedived my creative confidence the last month or two and it is killing me

i want to make things so so bad but i feel like none of it is good or it's boring and it is driving me Crazy!!! especially when it leaks over into not wanting to talk to people over not feeling interesting enough. agh. anyway that is my PSA, rest assured i am trying to kick the feelings away like this, and i Will do it. one day

we Will get there. or else🤺🤺

[maya-tl]

Hm?... maybe something about Medic trying to find the right time to propose to Spy but ended finding Spy was also planning the perfect proposal moment. Cuz that might be a good fanfic?

(sorry to bother you, it's also my first time to ask someone with sheer confidence— )

They had talked of marriage before.

They had talked, oh yes, but they had been new and fragile then, a bloom waiting for either the right rains to make it blossom or the right drought to make it wither. The topic of marriage had been a simple conversation starter, something to keep them awake through the night when sleep didn’t matter.

Medic had been married before. An arranged thing, something his parents had agreed to in his stead—she had been too tame, too traditional for him, and he too wild, too sharp, too different, too much for her. It had been a bitter and miserable affair, a laughable attempt at normalcy, and in the end the only thing they had ever agreed on was that they weren’t for each other.

Spy’s story was a different one. He had loved her, certainly—the proof was right in front of their eyes, loud and brash with a side of Bostonian fire—but they had never been in love, and she had never asked him for more than he could give despite everything it would have meant for her.

“I would’ve stayed,” Spy had told him in the quiet of the night, looking more vulnerable than Medic had ever seen him, “I would’ve given it all up and settled, spent all my remaining days in that house with her if she only said the word. I would’ve been comfortable.”

Medic had simply turned to face him and whispered, “But would you have been happy?”

Spy had fallen silent. Looking at his tortured profile in the moonlight slipping through the window, Medic knew it was as close to a confession as he would ever get. They hadn’t spoken about marriage since, even as the months turned into years and they learned everything there was to know about each other, even after they swore their teammates to secrecy and stopped hiding themselves behind closed doors and false pretences.

Medic had looked at him one New Year’s celebration, just as the clock hit midnight and their team erupted into cheers in the background, had watched Pyro’s fireworks dance off his eyes and highlight the curve of his soft smile and decided that he was the one. He was his only choice, his forever after, his today and all of his tomorrows.

The engagement ring came a month and a half later—he’d had it custom-made, of course, and spent a fortune on the design and a little under a fortune on the jeweller’s silence. Spy had told him once that he wasn’t too fond of golden accessories and found that silver tones better complimented his complexion, and so Medic had kept that in mind and gone in the opposite direction of tradition. He’d chosen a split-band, beautifully carved platinum ring inlaid with white moissante and topped with a one-of-a-kind, trillion-cut blue diamond.

When he first held it up to the light it shone like a rainbow in the water, so brilliant it left him blinking spots from his vision. It was perfect. He set it within a thin, royal blue velvet ring box, also custom-made so he could easily conceal it, and then went about trying to do the actual proposal.

Trying being the key word. He didn’t debate much over the words he would say—a simple ‘marry me’ would be more than enough for Spy, who would appreciate the gesture far more than the words themselves—or even the place—ideally somewhere private enough that they were unlikely to be interrupted. No, that was all fine. It wasn’t even that he was nervous.

It was the timing.

He couldn’t do it on the battlefield. The tides of a battle could turn at any moment and there were too many things to focus on, such as crushing the enemy and not dying. Medic himself had to keep an eye on all his teammates and Spy had to keep an eye on all their assailants, and even if they somehow got a moment to themselves in the middle of the carnage the atmosphere simply wasn’t right.

He couldn’t do it during dinner. Besides not being private in the slightest, the team ate all of their meals together and one of them was bound to do something inappropriate the moment Medic pulled out the ring box and ruin the whole thing. Spy would immediately catch on if he made a big deal out of them dining alone too, so that option went out the window early on.

He couldn’t do it in public, much as he’d like to treat Spy to a fancy meal at a fine restaurant and a walk in the park at sunset. The world, sadly, just wasn’t ready for that.

He couldn’t do it in the bedroom. No one would interrupt them, sure, and it was as intimate as it got, but Medic was more than familiar with Spy’s complicated history of setting apart the pleasures of the body from the feelings of the heart. They’d gone down that road before, and the last thing Medic wanted to do was to blur that line again now.

The time of day mattered too. Medic didn’t want to do it in plain daylight or in the middle of the night, even if proposing under the stars was tempting. Spy struggled with insomnia, and preferred sunsets over sunrises besides, so an early morning proposal didn’t feel quite right.

It was maddening.

It also didn’t help that their schedules had begun to conflict lately. Medic knew the reason for his own odd behaviour, late nights spent agonising over the right moment disguised as research projects, and had initially assumed that Spy was going through one of his distance phases. Medic tended to be very hands-on in every aspect of his life, and while Spy welcomed and often even encouraged that, he’d made it very clear that sometimes he simply needed his space. So Medic hadn’t questioned it much, willing to wait it out for a few days—it gave him more time to think and plan.

By the time a week had rolled by, he began to suspect that something else was up. Spy wasn’t exactly avoiding him, they spent roughly the same amount of time together, but there were—quirks in his behaviour that hadn’t been there previously. Medic, who was well-versed in his moods, picked up on them easily, but it was significantly more difficult for him to figure out Spy’s train of thought than it was for Spy to figure out his, no matter how close they were. Only one of them had been trained in espionage all their life.

When he returned to his room from another late afternoon spent in the lab—actually researching this time, more to take his mind off things than to achieve any scientific breakthrough—and found Spy’s suit jacket folded over the desk chair, but no actual sign of Spy, he decided that he’d waited long enough. If the right moment never came, so be it. Neither of them were getting any younger, despite his best efforts and the effects of the respawn system.

He took off his gloves and his coat and hung them in their proper place in the closet, stuffed the ring box in the folds of the front pocket of his pants and set off. It was almost dinnertime and it was Engineer’s turn to cook, so most of his teammates would be swarming the kitchen, which gave him the opportunity to search the base at his leisure.

Spy wasn’t in his own bedroom or his smoking room, or in the firing range, and Medic knew he wouldn’t be hanging around in the living room when he could be fashionably late to dinner. That left only one place that Medic knew he frequented.

The sky was alive with the colours of sunset, soft pinks and warm oranges and fiery reds. A light breeze was cruising over the desert, making the few scattered trees growing near their base shiver and the tumbleweeds dance on the nearest horizon, and the tors and mesas burned like a mirage under the light of the lowering sun.

Spy was leaning against the railing of the balcony, his back turned to the door, and he didn’t acknowledge Medic beyond the miniscule tensing and then relaxing of his shoulders. His tie was loose and the top button of his undershirt undone, which Medic found out when he snaked his arms around his waist and leaned down to press his mouth to his skin.

“Something on your mind, mein schatz?” he murmured, and Spy hummed. He turned his head, allowing them to touch foreheads.

“Many things, lately,” Spy said, too casual to be genuine, “Have you had any success?”

“Success?”

“With your experiments,” Spy said, and Medic caught a knowing glint in his half-lidded eyes, “The reason you have been spending most nights in the laboratory, non?”

Medic huffed out a laugh. His heart felt full. “No,” he said, unable to stop himself from smiling, “Not quite.”

Pop, came a noise, and Spy looked down. Medic held up the box to the light, and the platinum ring glimmered giddily under the rays of sunset, casting shimmering reflections over its soft velvet cushion. The blue diamond shone like a miniature star set into the band—the same colour as Spy’s eyes.

Spy’s head snapped back up, and there was shock there as he searched Medic’s expression for any trace of deceit. Medic knew he wouldn’t find any even if he tried to make it up, as he sometimes did in his more paranoid moments—and indeed Spy seemed to realise this was not some overly complicated prank, because a sheen came over his eyes, and he seemed torn on whether to cry or laugh.

Medic gave his waist a reassuring squeeze. “Marry me,” he said, two words that for them meant a thousand things.

Spy choked out a little laugh and then shook his head as if in disbelief, and for a split moment Medic thought—

But then it was his turn to look on in shock as Spy reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box, revealing an exquisite rose gold ring set with swirling gemstones of a dark and rich red sitting prettily on a white silk cushion.

“There was a manufacturing issue, so it only arrived last week,” Spy said, voice choked up with emotion. Medic thought of how tired and stressed Spy had looked up until the previous week. “I was debating on a time and place, but I—I didn’t think—”

Medic surged forward and pulled him into a deep kiss, and their respective boxes dug into their ribcages as their bodies met in the middle.

“Hey guys, Engie says—what the fuck—”

They broke apart with a gasp, and Scout yelped as Spy shoved him back into the hallway and slammed the door in his face with enough force to make the building shudder. “I’m being proposed to!” he yelled indignantly, and Medic felt his cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling he was doing.

Spy swivelled back around, ring box still in his hand, and pulled Medic in by the collar of his shirt. “Ask me again,” he whispered against his lips. Medic could do nothing but laugh, and he kissed him one more time just to feel him smile.

“Marry me,” he said.

“Yes,” came the answer, and the sky bled colour behind them as the sun sunk beneath the line of the horizon, signalling the end of today and the dawn of another, brighter tomorrow.

[figofswords]

anybody remember the stephanie brown essay I was working on under a research grant fully last summer? yeah it’s not done yet it super needs to be done and I’ve been avoiding working on it for weeks. someone tell me to just do it already

[a-shadowedvales]

so… in the additional media of stranger things (specifically the comics i’m mentioning), it was initially brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as eleven was. it was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. and i just…. sure henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but i think i am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

i genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and brenner is far more intriguing than the show. everything with 9/9.5, ricky, and francine. eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. and they all had such a range of interesting powers. i firmly stand with the idea that jane is the only one who can contact the void.

brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out terry was pregnant. he discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. there would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. because of this, i would not put it past a man like brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” in this case, eleven.

eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because jane was 011. so there were at least ten kids before her. but i always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. that they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. with flying colours.

i just think the whole rainbow room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. boring and predictable. i think at this point my portrayal of her time in hawkins lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. where having the rainbow room, although eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. albeit extremely warped and toxic. knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. doesn’t sit well with me. i think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. which is why kali is also so important to her growth. i thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. although peter becoming vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, peter ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. but before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. peter is shot on the spot, and eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. in this timeline, henry would be vecna, but henry would not be peter ballad.

when eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, brenner had the eight children killed. kali had already escaped. this was the main cause for peter to gain eleven’s trust and try to get her out. because if brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

when eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with peter. brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a peter, that she must have been dreaming. eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given peter told her of the day terry broke in the lab, but brenner is convincing enough to make eleven believe it was all in her head. say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

i still do wanna keep the henry creel canon, and keep him as 001. brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. brenner definitely wants to be able to control henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. killing him would be too big of a loss.

when eleven is ten years old, henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto hawkins lab. he almost kills brenner by snapping his bones, but eleven manages to stop him. her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends henry to the upside down. she does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. eleven is rewarded for her efforts. although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. also loved the idea of brenner sending her into the void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

by the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the upside down is basically what we see in canon. because she passed out the moment after she sent henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. for two years she believed this, until making contact with the demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

due to her saving brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. she happened to be there. saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) brenner constantly thanks her. but in a very condescending way. tells her: “you saved me so i can continue saving you.” aka, harness your abilities and see what else i can achieve from you. despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. that she owes him something further.

i don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. it makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

it also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. they would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. as far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with benny, i'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. where she followed the boys home without thought.

also it's important to note that after time, jane does understand that peter ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from terry) who wanted the best for her. when she remembers him, knows that brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. he was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. this is another catalyst as to why after season two, jane never refers to brenner as papa. she does not give him that sort of credit.