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[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 IF I WAS BORN A BLACKTHORN TREE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: it's finally the night of the event you've been preparing so ardently for. it's going as well as it can be considering the circumstances—or it is until dazai osamu shows up and throws you off your game. suddenly confused and concerned, you can't help but wonder if maybe things aren't what they seemed with the civilian you've grown so attached to.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART THREEEEEEEEE!!! hehehe we finally have some major plot development here <.< i was rlly excited for this chapter it was one of the ones i was looking forward to most when plotting the series. anyway, tae some more of reader being THE it girl ever - actually i was rlly excited for this because i havent really had the chance to showcase pmreader in her element the canon universe so i had fun with it here

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: lots of politics, dazai has the beginning of a panic attack, jealousy on both ends

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Chuuya asks, leaning over the center console to look at you, watching as you dab on lipstick in the mirror. 

In the driver’s seat, Albatross snorts, and he sees how you hardly refrain from rolling your eyes—Chuuya has half a mind to use his ability to rattle the car while you’re finishing up your makeup just to piss you off, but he has a feeling that you’ll lose your shit if he does that. You’re about to head into the event being hosted by the government for that agency in Tokyo, and Chuuya is just not feeling good about it. He’s felt this way since you were finishing up preparations at the headquarters an hour ago, forcing his way into the car with you and Albatross before you left.

“Chuuya, your face has been plastered all over Japan’s most wanted for three years. How do you propose you walk in with me without confirming that the Mori Corp. is a front for the Port Mafia?” you sigh heavily.

Chuuya bristles. “I just don’t have the best feeling,” he says defensively. “Forgive me for being worried. Damn.”

Chuuya settles back against the middle seat in the back row, letting out a sharp puff of air and pointedly turning his head away. He stares ahead, mind racing—it’s barely been a week since the operation against the Ingawa-kai. His body is still sore, and he should probably still be on bed rest, but he wasn’t going to laze around his apartment while you’re out here still healing from having your stomach sliced open.

By him.

Well, you won’t say what caused the almost lethal injury, but Chuuya knows it was from when he was in his Corrupted state. Whether it was by accident or because Arahabaki targeted you when you approached him, it doesn’t matter—the guilt he feels remains the same.

“It’s just a government event, Chuuya,” you say, looking back at him. “I’ve been to hundreds of them, relax.”

Yeah, but never so soon after a major operation against a Yakuza syndicate. Tokyo is Shimazaki-kai territory—they’ve always worked closely with the Inagawa-kai, and he doubts they’ll take kindly to Port Mafia presence in their heartland after they just annihilated one of the branches of their biggest ally. 

“Just be careful,” Chuuya says quietly when he sees you’re about to step out of the car. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not Albatross,” you say dryly.

“The fuck did I do?” Albatross demands once the abrupt and uncalled-for insult registers, head snapping to the side to look at you.

You only give him a sharp smile and wag your fingers in a mocking wave before stepping out of the car and making your way to the steps of the city hall. Chuuya only feels slightly relieved at the sight of Kiyomasa Daichi of the Sun and Steel immediately making his way over to you to escort you into the building.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Chuuya is gnawing at his bottom lip, grateful that his gloves are preventing his nails from drawing blood from his palms. You’re right—you’ve done this hundreds of times before, attending these types of events since you were fifteen with Lippmann chaperoning, taking over them alone when you were sixteen just because of how impressed Lippmann was with how easily you were able to navigate the intricacies of political webs and veiled conversation. 

So, why is that nagging feeling still-

“Yo, what the fuck?” Albatross suddenly says, straightening up in his seat, eyes pinned on a figure making their way into the city hall.

Alarmed, Chuuya follows his gaze quickly, eyes widening when he registers what Albatross is seeing. “Isn’t that…?” 

Dazai Osamu. 

That civilian you’d been seeing for a few weeks. You cut him off a few days ago, Chuuya doubted it at first when you said you’d done it, but then he’d seen how much withdrawn you’d become the past few days. How you bought yourself a new phone with a new number. Chuuya feels guilty over that, too. He can see the way it’s tolled on you—you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet during meetings, constantly glancing down at your phone as if expecting messages from him—but Chuuya would also prefer this than to make you go through the same devastation he felt years ago that still weighs to this day.

“Yeah,” Albatross says, jaw tight. “The fuck is he doing here? It’s going to throw her off—there’s no way she knew this. What do we do?”

“We can’t do anything,” Chuuya says, pulling out his phone to warn you that your civilian is evidently attending this event even though he knows damn well you don’t check your phone while on missions like this. “Fuck. The Shimazaki-kai are attending this event. The Boss is still trying to settle things with them after our conflict with the Inagawa-kai—it’s not going well.”

“Yeah,” Albatross scoffs. “Apparently, the oyabun’s daughter was married to one of the Inagawa-kai’s shatei. We’re probably gonna end up at war with them too—heard that they took in most of the Inagawa-kai’s refugees from our operation.”

Shit. 

That Chuuya didn’t know. Family is everything to the Yakuza syndicates—if the head of the Shimazaki-kai married off his daughter to one of the sons of the head of the Inagawa-kai… they’re a lot more tightly aligned than Chuuya initially thought. Attack on one is attack on all, or however that saying goes. Even if they don’t know that you’re the one that ordered the operation, they know you’re an executive of the Port Mafia, and that would be enough…

“They’ll be watching her like a fucking hawk,” Chuuya says, his throat swollen. “If they’re smart…”

If they’re smart, they’ll take you out now.

“I should go in,” Chuuya says, fingers curling around the handle of the door.

“Don’t,” Albatross tells him, giving Chuuya a short look. “If you blow her cover in there, it’ll fuck the Mafia over completely. We can’t lose our foothold in the Diet. Not with this bill about to pass through.”

Chuuya takes in a short, shaky breath, pulling off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. “If they see her with him-”

God, he can’t even finish the sentence, looking down to see his hands covered in familiar blood, a cold body in his arms. He-

“Chuuya,” Albatross says, twisting around to face him, reaching back to grab Chuuya’s hair and force him to look up and away from his bloodied hands. “She’s smart, she’ll be fine. She won’t seek him out.”

“And what if he goes up to her?” Chuuya hisses.

Albatross looks away grimly. “… Let’s just hope he doesn’t.”

Dazai feels distinctly out of place as he makes small talk with two House Representatives. He plays his part well, that’s for sure—he can feel Hinami hanging off his arm, watching him with wide eyes, stammering over words whenever she’s addressed by either of the politicians—but he feels like he looks like a fraud. Like everyone can tell that he’s just talking out of his ass and hoping for the best. Like everyone knows that he doesn’t belong.

He knows that he’s only in his own head about it. The two Representatives he’s talking to treat him like he’s one of their own and not a college student who doesn’t know jack shit about what he’s talking about. He supposes he has you to thank for that—knowing what to look for, it’s easy to pick out who belongs and who doesn’t, and because of that, it’s easy for him to figure out how to belong. Ayato sticks out like a sore thumb from where he’s trying a little too hard to talk to one of the Councillors, Dazai thinks Hinami would be too if she wasn’t attached to him.

He misses you. It’s only been a few days, but he misses you badly. His lips tingle from where you’d kissed him that night, and he can still feel the weight of your body on his. He misses you, and this event just makes him think even more of you. All of these people, this whole event, it all reminds him of you and Dazai can’t help but wonder if he’d feel more comfortable here with you at his side.

“I have to ask, Dazai-san,” one of the representatives—Hayashi, if Dazai remembers correctly—suddenly asks, drawing him from his thoughts. “Where did you get your suit? The tailor that works at the warehouse I usually get mine ended up quitting recently, and I’m looking for a new one.”

“Kido’s boutique in Nishi-ku,” Dazai tells him, a bit surprised when he watches the man’s eyes widen a bit in astonishment. “You know about it?”

“Who doesn’t? How did you manage to get a fitting with him?” the other man—Sato?—sighs, envy edging into his tone. “Kido-san is so selective with his clients. He turned me away when I went in for a fitting.” 

Oh, Dazai thinks, surprised. He figured that Kido’s boutique was high-class, but the fact that even people like Hayashi and Sato, who were very clearly well off with notably important positions in society as two of the more vocal members of the House of Representatives, couldn’t even get a fitting with the man leaves Dazai a bit put off.

“My brother-in-law got a fitting with him a few months ago for his son’s wedding,” Hayashi says, looking more at Sato now as he speaks. “He’s on the board of the Age of Blue Company and even he had to pull strings to get the appointment. Cost him nearly a million yen.”

Dazai has to physically force himself not to blanch at his words. Nearly a million yen—that’s more than what Dazai made in two months back when he was working full time and for a suit that he’s probably going to wear once. 

Ridiculous. 

Dazai hates rich people.

He can feel Hinami’s eyes on him, the way her arm tightens around his. Dazai wishes it was you on his arm instead. Or maybe him on yours, he’s not picky. He doesn’t even know why she’s attached herself like this to him—they’d make more progress splitting up. They’re seriously limiting their scope by only having two opportunities to talk to people but Hinami has been intent on staying at Dazai’s side no matter how much he urges her to go off and talk to people on her own.

Observe. Small talk. Gather information.

Not hard, not really. Dazai is good at putting on masks and blending in with people, and you certainly made it easier by making him look the part, but it doesn’t change the discomfort he feels, the lingering fear that people can see right through him. He likes to play the role of the clown because it distracts people from looking too deep, but that’s not an option in a setting like this, and he thinks people are still seeing him as a clown but for all of the wrong reasons: he’s dressed up in clothes that feel more like a costume than an outfit, he’s talking about subjects that go over his head even after he’s studied them in preparation for this, his face is stretched into a smile that feels foreign on his face. 

He hasn’t made much progress with gathering any useful information. Either he’s prodding at the wrong people, or they’re being extra careful not to let anything slip—could be both. Professor Ui gave them an overview of the important figures that are going to be in attendance and the ultimate goal would be to eventually talk with the majority leader in the House of Representatives and the minority leader in the House of Councillors. They were warned to keep a wide berth from Kiyomasa Daichi, an executive of the Age of Blue Company’s board—evidently the Ivory Eagle’s biggest target for this event. So Dazai supposes he’s among the right people right now, at least, because Hayashi just mentioned that his brother-in-law is on the board of the company.

The right people. Unless they find out what Dazai is here for and then-

“Tendo-kun,” an unfamiliar female voice calls from behind the two men he’s making conversation with.  “I was hoping you’d be here.”

Hayashi immediately cuts off his conversation with Sato, whirling around with a wide smile to face a pretty young woman with dark hair and darker eyes, red lips curled into a too-sweet smile as she comes to stand between the two of them, giving both Dazai and Hinami a curious look. 

“Noriko-san, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight. I thought your father was only sending Kiyomasa to rep the company,” Hayashi says easily, hooking his arm into the woman’s and looking down at her, enamored.

Kiyomasa. Dazai has to force himself not to react to the name. Hinami is not quite as subtle, drawing in a sharp breath that makes Dazai nearly wince because the woman, Noriko, clearly catches it from how she tilts her head to the side, looking over the two of them. 

Your father was only sending Kiyomasa…

Her father must be Mishima Yukio, the CEO of the Age of Blue, and that means-

Mafia. 

Exactly what they were meant to avoid right in front of them and Hinami is not being slick. Dazai can feel her fingers trembling from where she’s holding his arm.

“You know I only come to these events for one person,” Noriko laughs airly, leaning into Hayashi as she looks up at him before turning her attention back to Dazai and Hinami. “Who are your friends? Unfamiliar faces…”

Luckily, Hayashi is more focused on the first thing Noriko said. “No way,” he says, eyes bright and voice low and conspiratory. “She’s here. I thought for sure she wouldn’t show at this after everything that happened between this agency and the Mori Corporation a few months ago.”

“I think that’s exactly why she did come,” Noriko hums with an easy smile, lashes fluttering as she looks back at Dazai. “Mishima Noriko. And you are?”

Dazai doesn’t even get the chance to respond—which is for the best—because in an instant, there’s a commotion on the other side of the room, drawing the attention of all of the attendees of the gala. Noriko, Hayashi, and Sato all turn around, and Dazai takes a slight step forward to peer around them, trying to see what’s going on.

It doesn’t take long for Dazai to pinpoint it, mouth drying and heart stilling in his chest as his eyes land on you at the center of all of the attention.

You walk away from your previous company feeling grim, sure this is what you came here for—to meet with the more influential individuals attending the event tonight and help ease them into an opinion more aligned with the Port Mafia’s interests—but your heart’s just not in it. It’s easy to keep the smile on your face as you make casual conversation with House Representative Yamamoto, one of the key swing votes you have to bring to your side, but it’s much harder to make the smile reach your eyes.

Kiyomasa claimed that most of the swing votes are already falling in your favor, so long as Yamamoto’s and a few other controlling ones can be secured, you’ll be on a quick path to ensuring that the military bill is quashed in the Lower House. 

But you find yourself distracted. Your thoughts drift mid-conversation to a familiar pair of warm brown eyes and a soft smile, your heart yearns for something you know you can’t have, and it makes you feel sick. Luckily in situations like these, your body works on autopilot—you smile when you’re meant to smile, you laugh when you have to laugh, you make witty comments and sly remarks to push the swing votes your way—but you just want to go back to your apartment.

“I must say, I didn’t expect you to be here tonight,” Representative Yamamoto hums, waving down a server to grab the two of you flutes of champagne. He looks amused as he turns his attention back down to you, dark eyes glittering. He’s handsome, you think, with dark hair and darker eyes, only a few years older than you—maybe if you can’t convince him with your words, you’ll convince him in bed. “Not after everything that happened between the Mori Corporation and this… what is this agency called again?”

You laugh—genuinely this time, not one of those airy automatic ones. You take a sip of your champagne and look at Yamamoto. “Ah, Yamamoto-san, how terrible of you, not even knowing the name of the agency we’re all here to celebrate,” you tease lightly.

“Shame, shame, I know,” Yamamoto sighs, leaning against the pillar where the two of you are standing.

“The OCDA,” you tell him, looking up at him through your lashes as you study his face. 

Organized Crime Defense Agency, Mishima is truly taking far too long to eliminate them. The Sun and Steel were supposed to put them in the ground months ago after they drew attention to the Mori Corporation, trying to accuse the business of being a front for the Port Mafia. You had to lay low on business for months because of it, knowing that one wrong move could lead to a huge exposé from one of the big journalism groups in Yokohama, and if that happens, the government will have no choice but to intervene. The OCDA didn’t have proof to back their allegations, but if one of those journalism groups managed to get their hands on some…

The Port Mafia isn’t exactly in the position to be dealing with wars against major Yakuza syndicates, the Guild, and the government all at once. It could spell the end for it.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” Yamamoto says absently. “The Commissioner has been staring at you since you walked in.”

Of course. Five months ago, you dedicated every waking moment to ruining the reputation of the OCDA—you had to do it. If people started believing their accusations, even if there was no evidence, it could cause trouble for the Port Mafia. You’d tarnished their public perception so completely that it literally took until this operation against the Scarlet Gang and the government going above and beyond to commemorate their success for the public to start viewing them in a better light. 

“I’m not surprised,” you tell him. “He still clearly holds a grudge over what happened a few months ago.”

“Unjustly, too,” Yamamoto notes. “They were the ones that chose to target the Mori Corporation with no grounds. I don’t know what they were thinking and to act like the victim after being the one to start it… Deplorable.”

Interesting, you think. 

You look at Yamamoto under a new light, tilting your head to the side. 

Is he just saying that because he knows it’s something you want to hear? 

Or is that how he really feels? 

The whole incident between the OCDA and the Mori Corporation has been a hot topic amongst the members of the National Diet. You’d feared that the allegations were going to severely harm your position amongst the Representatives and Councillors. To some extent, it had; a lot of the people who wanted the Mori Corporation to lose sway over the members of the Diet used it as a way to try to turn people against you—but you’d been able to salvage it. Still, even to this day, it’s a contentious topic that most politicians don’t willingly bring up. 

Just as you’re about to open your lips to respond, pry a little bit more into his mindset before you say something riskier. You catch sight of an achingly familiar face from the corner of your eye.

What-

All conscious thought leaves your mind as you turn your head to the side, trying to figure out if you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing.

Dazai?

Your gaze settles on none other than the boy who has been plaguing your thoughts since you left his apartment a few days ago. He’s standing off to the other side of the room dressed in the suit that you bought him—you can hardly bring yourself to draw your gaze from him. He looks… stunning, actually, at ease in a way that you never would have expected him to be in this setting. 

He’s talking to Hayashi, Sato and Noriko—three people that have close ties with the Port Mafia, much to your distress—the smile on his lips is easy and casual, body language relaxed. He looks right at home. A part of you itches to walk right over to him, but you know you shouldn’t. There are too many eyes on you at this event, enemies and allies alike. You don’t want to draw unwanted attention to Dazai, not when you’ve cut him off to protect him from this very sort of attention. 

Your eyes linger on him as he laughs at something Hayashi says, breath catching in the back of your throat—and god, you know you’re being obvious. You need to force your attention back to Yamamoto and at least try to remember what you were talking about to play this off. But-

But then he looks at you.

Dazai’s eyes drift from Hayashi right to where you’re standing with Yamamoto as if he already knew you were standing there. He looks surprised, and you realize that he’s probably more surprised that you’re looking back at him, like he didn’t expect you to notice him. 

How could you not notice him? 

And as soon as his gaze meets yours, you know that’s all an act. You can see the way his eyes are a bit lost, lonely. You know he feels severely out of place and you long walk over there to him. All thoughts of keeping attention off of him out the window if it means he doesn’t look so uncomfortable—you yearn to see the bright look in his eyes that you’d become so accustomed to, feel his smile against your lips. You’d known it was a mistake to kiss him that night, that you’d already let yourself indulge too much, and taking that next step would just hurt you both but…

Just like now, all reasonable thought seems to be thrown out the window whenever he’s around.

You watch as something akin to hurt flashes through his eyes, and you withhold a wince as you remember all of the lies you told him—leaving the country, not having time to text him. You’d even gotten a new phone and a new number so you wouldn’t be tempted to read his messages. Fuck, why does he always show up at the most inopportune moments? This must’ve been why he’d asked you about the military bill. This was the event his journalism professor wanted him to attend. How did you not put this together sooner?

Then, his gaze hardens, and he looks away, shifting to the side as if to pointedly show off someone you hadn’t noticed before—a girl hanging off of his arm. Pretty. Big dark eyes and light brown hair, a soft expression. Pretty, you think again, sickeningly civilian, probably another student at the university he attends. Even being dolled up in a gown and makeup can’t hide that.

Perfect for him, then. Sickeningly civilian. Just like Dazai. They’d be good for each other—live out long, sickeningly civilian lives with each other. Go to cafes and talk about all of their sickeningly civilian classes, discuss all of the books and poems they read. It’s perfect, it’s what you want for him, it’s why you cut him off. So he’s not in danger by being associated with you, so you don’t drag him into the dark and get him killed. 

So, where is the anger coming from? 

Your jaw is so clenched that you can feel your teeth grinding together, knuckles tense around your flute of champagne. Your tongue feels itchy, your throat feels swollen, your chest is unbearably tight—you have to force yourself to remain rooted next to Yamamoto, and your body twitches to walk over there. You’re so lost for logic that you can’t even fumble for an excuse to explain the sudden bout of anger. 

You try. You tell yourself that you’re angry because he shouldn’t be at an event like this. You tell yourself that you’re angry because his journalism professor should know better than to send college students to gather information at an event where several mafias are going to be in attendance. You tell yourself that you’re angry because he’s always coming around to fuck things up for you, that he shouldn’t have wormed his way into your life.

But it’s all flimsy and weak because the color flooding you right now isn’t red. 

It’s green. 

“I think you should go over there,” Yamamoto says, amused, nodding over to where you’re looking as he leans in closer to you. He keeps his voice down, luckily, but you can’t help the distress that sweeps through you when you realize that you are being that obvious.

“Allow me to pretend not to be so obvious, Yamamoto-san,” you sigh.

Yamamoto laughs, tossing you a wink. “I’m not that kind,” he says lightly. “I’ll send you an email later if we don’t get to talk again tonight. I’d like to discuss the more… minute details of the proposition you were offering.”

Your smile is a bit more genuine now as you turn your attention back to him.

“Of course,” you say easily. “A pleasure talking to you, as always.”

“And you,” Yamamoto replies. “Talking to you is always a highlight of these dreadfully boring galas.”

“You flatter me,” you laugh, waving off the compliment.

“Me? Never.” Yamamoto winks at you again, then leans in to murmur, “Best of luck.”

Yamamoto wanders off without another word, and your gaze drifts back over to Dazai and you find yourself actually contemplating it. You contemplate going over there and forcing that girl away, forcing him to spend the night at your side instead. You contemplate ruining everything by drawing all of the attention in the room onto him. You contemplate putting him in danger just to make this ugly green emotion go away.

You grab yourself another drink instead.

Dazai can hardly pay attention to the conversation at hand. No matter how much he tries to keep the conversation going between the two Representatives and Mishima and Noriko, he finds that his gaze keeps drifting back over to where you’re standing on the other side of the room. 

You look beautiful. You always look beautiful, but there’s something… different tonight. You’re dressed in a sleek black dress rather than the expensive suits he’s become used to. It hangs off your shoulders, a slit up your thigh; there’s a pretty smile on your face and a playful glitter in your eyes as you entertain conversation with people. You’re always beautiful—whether you’re in one of your ridiculously expensive suits or an equally expensive dress—but there’s something different tonight that makes him unable to keep his attention off of you for long.

In your suits, it’s a polished type of beauty. Cold. Untouchable. There’s an air about you that few would dare try to disturb. He noticed it that first night when everyone at the bar gave you a wide berth. At the cafe, it was the same—your presence screams that you’re someone important and someone who should not be bothered. Even at the library, though his classmates clearly wanted to approach you and talk to you, they were all too intimidated to try. Everyone waited for you to leave before badgering Dazai with questions.

This is different. Just as refined but untouchable in a different way. Your smiles are sly and inviting, your body language smooth and languid; people gravitate toward you rather than avoid you, but none dare to draw too close. If intimidation was the factor in other situations, nerves are in this one—you’re warm and enticing but still too elusive for anyone to dare to try to capture. Dazai can see it in the way they watch you longingly, fingers itching to reach out toward you, but they freeze before they can, like you’re some otherworldly being that they think they shouldn’t taint with their touch.

And Dazai is so conflicted. 

He yearns to go over to you. He wants to be the one to draw close to you, wants to see the expression on everyone else’s face when he’s the one that breaks through that invisible barrier, wants to slip his arm around your waist, hold you in the way that he knows other people are fantasizing about right now. He’s missed you the past few days; he can still feel the weight of your body on top of his, his lips tingling from where they’d been pressed against yours. If he closes his eyes long enough, he can almost imagine your fingers entwined with his hair, holding him close as your lips slide to his jaw. 

But he’s angry. Or maybe he’s not angry, maybe he’s just hurt. Maybe both. Dazai can’t tell. He’s never been good at understanding his own emotions, he just knows that he doesn’t like it. Wants it to go away.

Wants you to explain.

Why did you lie? The thought makes his stomach churn so uncomfortably that it makes the alcohol he’s been drinking come up his throat. Why did you lie? Since he saw you before, he’s been on the brink of collapse. He wants to go back to his apartment and forget all about this shitty event and your betrayal, wants to curl up in his futon and sleep before the gaping hole in his chest starts to spread.

He should have known this would happen. Every time Dazai Osamu has ever come to want something, it’s always lost the moment he obtains it. This has been true since the moment he was born, but somehow it eluded him the weeks he spent pining after you, eluded him the night you spent at his apartment sharing kisses and gentle touches. 

The cloud that’s been hanging over him since the night he met you at the bar, the one that you’ve successfully pushed away twice, is heavier than ever and Dazai wants to be rid of it. He’s so tired. Everything feels amplified now that he’s been given a taste of what he could have had with you, only to find you lied to be free of him just like so many others have. Ever since Odasaku died, he’s been alone and Dazai just doesn’t know how much more of it he can take. And he feels selfish, he feels selfish for wanting to go before he can fulfill his friend’s final request but he just can’t do it anymore.

It’s just too much for him, and Dazai isn’t going to finish this novel anyway. It doesn’t matter how many English classes he takes, doesn’t matter how much time he spends reading to teach himself how to write—Dazai will never be able to finish Odasaku’s book. How can he? A book focused on the human experience? Dazai is, unfortunately missing a key characteristic necessary to successfully write this novel.

Dazai has always struggled to understand the minds of people around him. He’s smart, and he can read people easily, but he’s never been able to understand them. It’s why he’s found himself an outcast time and time again: no matter how hard he tries, and he does try, he tries so hard, people can tell something is… off about him. His laughs are too loud and too hollow. His eyes are too black and too empty. His smiles are too wide and too fake. 

When he was younger, kids were cruel about it—they would point it out and laugh at him, and when he tried harder to fit in with them, they would point that out too. He couldn’t win, no matter how hard he tried. Now that he’s older, people aren’t quite as blatant with it, but Dazai is far from stupid and he can see the looks people give him, can see the way they actively avoid him, the way they whisper.

Dazai’s gotten better at masking himself. It’s hard for people to tell at first glance now that something is off about him—his smiles have become smoother and less strained, and he’s taught himself to laugh light and airy. He can make do with small talk and acquaintances, even able to charm people into his bed, assuming they aren't put off when he keeps the bandages on.

The trouble comes when they stick around too long, when they start noticing the cracks in his mask; he can evade it at first, become loud and funny, take on the role of a clown so they can focus on that instead of the gaping void within him, threatening to consume anyone that dares to come near. But he can only play that role for so long before people realize something is up; whether his smile fades at the wrong moment or he talks a bit too long, something clues them into the fact that something is wrong with Dazai, and they inevitably disappear without a word, avoid him on the streets if they happen to run into him.

Or they lie to him and tell him that they’re going abroad for a while just to be rid of him.

Dazai is drawn out of his own thoughts when he realizes that all four pairs of eyes are on him—Hayashi, Sato, Noriko, and Hinami are all looking at him expectantly, and he realizes, anxiously, that one of them must have directly addressed him but he was so lost in thought that he hadn’t even been listening. He racks his brain for a response, desperately trying to figure out if he’d subconsciously picked up on the conversation, but the longer the silence draws on, the harder it becomes for him to push away the numbness spreading from his core to his limbs.

Before he can fumble out a non-response, an achingly familiar voice intrudes on the conversation.

“Hayashi-kun, Sato-kun, I’ve been meaning to speak with you two,” you say with an easy smile as you make your way over to the small group, and Dazai can hardly breathe at the sight of you so close, unwittingly rescuing him yet again. “Noriko-chan.”

Your smile is fonder as your gaze lands on Noriko and the cold and aloof woman suddenly looks starstruck by your presence, enamored. Dazai’s chest tightens as he looks between the two of you.

You ignore his presence completely.

“Hime,” Noriko breathes out. Dazai startles at the honorific—it was startling hearing Kido, and the attendants call you it at the boutique, but it’s even more jarring hearing it come from a woman that Professor Ui suspects of being a mafia heiress. “I heard you would be here. I convinced my father to let me come.”

“Just for me?” Your voice is light and teasing, you reach out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Noriko’s ear, and Dazai’s blood pressure spikes. “You’re so sweet, Noriko-chan.”

“You didn’t come to Arima-kun’s wedding,” Noriko pouts in a way that’s so exaggerated that it nearly makes Dazai roll his eyes and gag. “I’ve missed you.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I’m afraid I was busy. I heard it was fun. I regret not being able to be there.”

You notably don’t tell Noriko that you also missed her, and it makes Dazai’s lips quirk up in smug amusement. 

No, he stops himself, reminding himself that he’s angry at you and he should not care about any of this. In fact, he should walk away. He should. But his feet betray him, they keep him rooted to the ground when you finally turn your gaze onto him.

“Who are your new friends?” you ask casually.

Dazai has to physically stop himself from flinching at your words, the way you pretend you don’t know him, just like so many people have before. His chest aches, his throat feels swollen, and he feels embarrassed—he doesn’t even know why he feels embarrassed, but he can feel heat spread across his cheeks at your words. For a second, Dazai swears he sees regret flash through your eyes, but it’s gone so quickly that he thinks he imagined it.

“Koda Hinami.” Next to Dazai, Hinami stumbles over her words, face pink as she bows her head in respect, “It’s, uh, a pleasure to meet you…”

You don’t even acknowledge Hinami, your gaze doesn’t budge from Dazai, and you don’t offer your name at Hinami’s unspoken request for it. Hinami lets out an embarrassed noise in the back of her throat as she looks away. Dazai has half a mind to stay silent, to ignore you in the same way you ignore Hinami, but he finds his lips moving before he can stop them.

“Dazai Osamu.” He’s grateful that his voice is steadier than how he feels, cool and short, unlike the rampage of emotions tearing through his chest. 

You tilt your head to the side as you look over him. You reach out, pinching the material of his suit jacket between your fingers—as you do, your knuckles brush his bandaged skin, and Dazai has to physically withhold a shiver at the touch.

“One of Kido’s,” you note, and there’s a small smile on your lips as if you’re sharing an inside joke with him. “You must have friends in high places—he doesn’t often take appointments without referrals.”

You’re mocking him.

As if pretending he’s a stranger isn’t enough, you’re standing there mocking him too. Dazai doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, everything feels all twisted inside of him—he wants to go home.

“Not a friend.” 

The jab is cold and pointed. It goes over the head of the other four, but he watches the way your smile falters at it, and he savors it even if he does know it hardly stings you in comparison to the knives he feels being jabbed into his chest and back.

“Hm,” is all you say in response, gaze sliding away from him as if he’s no longer of any interest to you. You look back at Hayashi and give him a smile that makes Dazai want to throw up. “Dance with me?”

Hayashi rushes to take your extended hand, fumbling over a yes, and you don’t even bother to spare another look at Dazai as you lead Hayashi onto the floor, where a few couples are already swaying around. Dazai can’t even force himself to look away from you, eyes pinned on how Hayashi’s hands rest on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Maybe he’s a bit petty when he turns to Hinami and offers his hand to her. For a second, the girl looks as if she’s going to shake her head no, too nervous to go to the dancefloor, but then other couples start taking your cue, grabbing a partner to take to the dancefloor.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Hinami whispers, panicking. “I don’t-”

“You’ll be fine,” Dazai says. “Follow my lead.”

Dazai also doesn’t know how to dance, but he thinks it should be easy enough. He observes the few people already settled on the dancefloor, watching their steps and the way they sway to the slow beat and then matches their pace and hand placement.

“I don’t know how you’re so good at this,” Hinami says quietly as he leads her in the dance. Dazai hardly pays attention to her, gaze cutting through the growing crowd of couples to find you. “I feel so in over my head. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing fine,” Dazai tells her absently, stiffening when he finally spots you not too far from him in deep conversation with Hayashi. “I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Hinami sighs. Dazai’s eyes linger at how low Hayashi’s hands dip down on your hips, how your heads are bowed together as you sway, speaking quietly in one another’s ear. It makes him sick, he can feel his stomach turn inside of him, he can feel something ugly and green spreading through his chest. “You look like a natural. Like you’re meant to be here with these people. I can hardly speak to any of them without stumbling over my words. I mean, did you see how that woman ignored me? … So embarrassing…”

Dazai’s breath hitches when you lift your face up a bit, so close to Hayashi that your noses almost brush. He can’t see the expression on your face, but he can see that you’re making eye contact with him, and it looks so intimate that Dazai feels that void in his chest start to spread to his limbs, his fingers feel numb and clunky against Hinami’s waist, and he nearly stumbles over one of the steps in the dance.

You look like you belong with him. High-class. Smooth. Charming. Wealthy. Dazai’s known you were out of his league since the day he met you at the bar, but actually getting a visual of what you would look like with someone of the same class as you—the people you interact with on a daily basis—makes him feel sorely inadequate. Any of the people at this event would kill for just a few seconds of your time, all of them wealthier and more influential than him, way more worth your time than a broke college student who can hardly talk himself off the edge of a bridge.

Why would he have ever thought he had a chance with you? Why would you waste any time with him? Why wouldn’t you pretend not to know him? Dazai would be embarrassed to associate with himself too. He can hardly even stand to look at himself in the mirror. 

He shouldn’t be as upset as he is. He should’ve expected this from day one. He doesn’t know why all of this hurts as much as it does.

Because it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to hope since Odasaku’s death.

The air getting to his lungs is thin and shallow. Dazai feels like he’s at the peak of a mountain where oxygen is few and far between. Hinami doesn’t seem to notice his distress from the way she’s still complaining about the event, but it’s hard for him to ground himself to the present. 

He’d allowed himself to hope.

The way you had immediately noticed his discomfort with the bandages and moved to try to make him more comfortable—no one has ever done anything like that for him, not since Odasaku died. 

The way you came to him when you were hurt. 

The way you helped him around his apartment and didn’t question the filth and mess, buying him food, replacing what he’d broken in his depressive episode.

The way you looked at him. 

The way you touched him.

The way you kissed him. 

He’d allowed himself to hope that maybe someone would accept him for who he is instead of running as soon as they see beneath the mask.

He had let himself hope. A fatal mistake. Always has been. Dazai should have known better.

Dazai needs to get out of here. He can hardly feel his fingers anymore, can feel the numbness spreading to his legs. His vision is blurring, his lungs are burning. He needs to go back home so he can let the black hole consume him in peace. He needs to be alone. He needs to-

Dazai doesn’t even notice the music tempo changing, nor the way people are swapping partners until he and Hinami are separated and drawn into a new dance. Dazai’s breath catches, caught off guard and still trying to ground himself.

“Why are you here?” 

Your voice meets his ears, quiet so as to not be heard above the music, you forcibly guide his body to move in step with yours. He stares down at you, brain not processing who’s standing in front of him. He can see the concern thinly veiled behind your eyes, the way your lips curve down.

“Dazai, snap out of it. Breathe.”

You. You’re here. You’re always here when he feels as if he’s finally going to let the void win, and Dazai just-

Dazai wants to scream.

Why are you always here to rescue him when he knows you’re just going to leave him?

“Why am I here?” Dazai finally forces himself to say, grateful that his voice is steadier than how he feels. “Why are you here? How was your trip abroad, hime?”

Any concern in your eyes disappears, and the grip you have on his waist tightens in a way that makes his breath catch. “Don’t call me that.”

Now a bit more coherent than he was when he was dancing with Hinami, he thinks he should be mortified by how you’re taking the lead. All of the other men are leading their partners in the dance, but he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed because he’s so focused on your hand on his waist and the way your fingers are laced with his. He’s mad at you, yes, but he has to actively remind himself of that because of the way you’re holding him. 

Dazai fears he is a weak man at heart.

“How was your trip abroad?” Dazai asks again, leaving off the title this time. He wants to know if you’ll lie to him. Again.

You watch him carefully for a moment, and then you sigh, shaking your head. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” you tell him.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, throat bobbing at your words. Doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that you didn’t even try to lie. Does know that it hurts hearing you admit that you lied to him. That you made up a shitty excuse so you could cut him off, ghost him like so many others have before. He lets out a shaky puff of air, shaking his own head as he tries to take a step away from you, intent on creating some distance between the two of you, but you don’t let him, your grip on his waist tightens again, hand sliding to the small of his back to force him flush to you again. His face heats up.

You tilt your head to the side as you look up at him as if daring him to make a scene. Dazai wants to. He does—just to embarrass you in front of all of your rich, upper-class friends—but more than that, he wants answers.

“Why?” he asks tightly.

“Stupid questions annoy me,” you say with a thin smile, being purposely obtuse.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Dazai refuses to humor the non-answer. “Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to-”

Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to be with me?

Why did you have to give him hope?

Why did you have to be like all of the rest?

“It has nothing to do with what I want,” you finally sigh, voice quiet as you lead him into an outside spin, keeping him in pace with all of the other couples. “It’s complicated, Dazai.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” Dazai says immediately, body tense. “What did I do wrong? I thought-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you tell him, which only frustrates Dazai more because if he’s about to get the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, he thinks he might storm right off the dancefloor, leaving you here. “It’s just complicated, Dazai. I can’t uncomplicate it.”

“That’s not fair,” Dazai murmurs. “You kissed me, you-”

“You kissed me,” you correct.

“You kissed me back,” Dazai hisses, getting annoyed, “and you initiated the second kiss.”

“Dazai-”

“You know what,” Dazai laughs to himself, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you want nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not true,” you say immediately, but Dazai is already taking a step away, brushing your hand off of his waist and pulling his hand back. He can’t listen—he can’t—he can’t let himself hope again. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive it this time. “Dazai-”

“I need to go,” Dazai interrupts. 

He doesn’t wait for a response from you as he turns to walk off the floor, leaving you standing there alone. He can hardly breathe in the crowd, with you so close—he needs air. It feels shallow again, like it’s not getting to his lungs. He tells himself that this was to be expected, again, but the thought doesn’t calm him down this time. You don’t follow him off the dancefloor—he doesn’t know if he wanted you to or if it would just stress him out more.

“You’re so lucky,” a familiar voice sighs as soon as Dazai is off the dance floor. He feels unfocused as he looks at Sato. “I was trying so hard to position myself to switch with Hayashi for the partner swap.”

Dazai is annoyed. He is annoyed, and he is jealous and he is once again very acutely reminded of the fact that every single person in this room would kill for a few seconds of your time, once again very acutely reminded of his own inadequacy. He had known from day one that he didn’t have a shot with you but-

No. 

He’s not going to go down this rabbit hole again. 

“Well, she has no partner now,” Dazai says with a strained smile, ignoring the tightness in the chest and the way his vision blooms green. “You should go ask her to dance.”

Sato brightens. “You’re right,” he says, sparing a haste ‘thanks’ before rushing off to the dance floor.

Dazai doesn’t let himself linger long enough to see if you accept his extended hand, making his way out of the event room and down a nearby hall, hoping for some fresh air.

You don’t know where Dazai went, but he’s a sneaky bastard for sending Sato your way to distract you. You couldn’t blow him off without looking like an asshole, so you had to entertain him for a song before making an excuse. Dazai is nowhere to be seen now—not hanging near the walls, not hovering near the apps or drinks, not making small talk with any of the other politicians or businessmen in attendance.

Did he leave? 

No, he wouldn’t have. Your eyes trace around the room again as you make small talk with Noriko—he had to have gone somewhere, but where? You focus on a hallway leading out to the back of the city hall, tilting your head to the side. There, maybe? There are bathrooms back there, if you remember correctly, most people will probably use the ones in the entrance hall, but if he’s looking for somewhere quiet…

You excuse yourself from the conversation with Noriko and make your way across the room, careful to avoid the eyes of any of the other attendees who might try to steal you away for a talk. You get there without incident, luckily, because you think if someone tried to interrupt you, you might shatter the carefully crafted reputation you’ve built over the past six years. 

The hallway is dim and cool, a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of the other room. You head straight for the men’s bathroom, hoping that your hunch is correct. Also hoping that there are no other men in the bathroom because that would be awkward—and you’d have to do some serious explaining because you can’t have anyone know you’re seeking out Dazai. 

You think you’ve done a pretty decent job in making sure people don’t realize you knew him before the event. Noriko and Hayashi have no suspicions, and if anyone was going to pick it up, it would be those two. You were casual enough with the positioning of the partner switch that it didn’t look like you were intentionally seeking him out, but you could see the way he was thinking himself into a panic attack, the girl with him obliviously babbling on as Dazai struggled to breathe. You suppose him being mad at you is preferable to him thinking himself into an abyss, but it’s just not settling right with you. 

You think that this is a mistake—you should let him think that you want nothing to do with him, should let him hate you and resent you so he can move on with his life—so why are you still turning down the hallway to get to the men’s bathroom? 

You blame Dazai. If he hadn’t shown up at this event and all but shoved himself in your face, purposely antagonized you by shoving that stupid civilian girl in your face, then everything would be fine. You would’ve evaded the places he frequents in Hodogaya-ku, and you’d have never crossed paths with him again. Both of you could’ve moved on with your lives as if you’d never met each other—but now-

You’re almost angry as you shove open the door to the men’s bathroom. 

No, you are angry, and it isn’t just because he’s shown up to the event and fucked up your plan to keep him out of your life. It’s also because you know why he’s here, and he’s a lot stupider than you thought he was. The suit for the event he’d mentioned his journalism professor wanted him to attend and the question about the bill… He’s here to gather intel for that professor of his, and the only reason why a bunch of students would be sent to an event like this in lieu of the actual journalists themselves is because they’re trying to seek out information that wouldn’t be easily acquired by known faces. Whether that’s information about insider opinions on the new bill or something else, it’s dangerous business. If the opinion of the wrong person gets out to the media and the public, there’ll be a witch hunt trying to figure out who let it loose, and all eyes will be on the unfamiliar faces. 

All eyes will be on Dazai.

He’s stupid.

The door slams against the wall hard, and your gaze cuts to the side, hardly focusing on Dazai’s surprised expression as he straightens from where he’s leaning over the sink. Your attention shifts from him to the stalls, making sure each of them is empty before shutting the door behind you and locking it.

“No,” Dazai says, shaking his head, jaw tight as he moves to leave the bathroom.

Your eye twitches when he tries to push past you and all of the rising frustration you’ve felt the past few weeks snaps like a taut cord that has been pulled at too much. Your hands dart out to grab his waist, fingers hooking in the belt loops to stop him before he can get past you. You watch as his eyes widen as you tug him closer before slamming him back against the bathroom door hard.

“What are you doing here?” you ask again, ignoring the look he’s giving you, lips parted in shock and pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. “Dazai, what are you doing here?”

Finally, he’s drawn out of whatever stupor he’s in, scoffing and looking away from you but not pushing you away.

“Really? You just came here to interrogate me some more?” he says bitterly. “Don’t you have better things to do? I’m sure there are plenty of people out there more worthy of your time.”

“What are you even talking about?” you ask, irritated. “I couldn’t care less about any of them. Stop avoiding the question, why are you here?”

Dazai looks conflicted at your words, and you don’t know why, but it’s really starting to piss you off. You feel like you should step away from him, give some space, but you can’t bring yourself to move. In fact, your grip on his slacks tightens.

“I told you I had that event to attend for my journalism class, I-”

“You didn’t tell me this was the event-”

“You didn’t ask! What does it matter?” Dazai demands, glaring at you.

You inhale sharply and let go of his belt loops, taking a step back, but Dazai doesn’t move to leave. He stays leaning against the bathroom door, staring at you as he waits for a response, but you don’t even know how to respond.

“It matters,” you finally say without giving any context, which evidently pisses him off from how he lets out a sharp puff of air.

“Why does it matter?” Dazai asks, raising his voice in a way that stresses you out because if anyone happens to come down this hall and find you in the bathroom with him, it’s going to cause issues. “Why does-Why won’t you explain anything? Why did you lie about going abroad? Why does it matter that I’m here?”

“Because you shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, not wanting to expand on it, but you can see the frustration rising on Dazai’s face, and you think it’s more important not to have him screeching for people to overhear. “Dazai, don’t you think there’s a reason that your professor didn’t come to this event himself and with his trained colleagues?”

Something shifts onto Dazai’s expression that you don’t like—a strange look caught between suspicion and wariness that you take note of. You misspoke somewhere but where? This conversation is risky—you don’t even know what his professor sent him and his classmates to get information about, how they were prepped for it, or what information they were given. What a mess.

“What are you talking about?” Dazai asks in a way that lets you know that he’s onto something.

You don’t respond for a moment, choosing your words carefully. “What do you think will happen if an unsavory opinion of one of these politicians gets out to the media, Dazai? These people have more money than you could ever dream of, connections with-” You cut yourself off abruptly, staring at him for a moment before saying tightly. “Connections with all types of people. Good and bad. They’ll find out who spread what was spoken at this event.”

“Isn’t this suit supposed to help me blend in?” His voice is so snide that you almost want to smack him. If he were anyone else-

You don’t even finish that thought. He’s not anyone else. He’s Dazai Osamu, a stupid civilian who has managed to worm his way into your life, for better or for worse. 

“Sure,” you agree tightly. “It makes them less concerned about your presence at the moment. But once they have something to be concerned about, you know who they’re going to remember? The boy in a poorly tailored suit who spoke too loudly and with far too many people. The girl in a thirty dollar dress from Muji who stumbled over all of her words and the boy that she latched herself onto.”

“And what exactly are they going to do if they figure out who leaked their shitty opinions?” Dazai asks, a challenging expression on his face as if he knows what the answer is but wants to hear you say it out loud. “Ui-sensei said-”

Ui. There aren’t many journalists with the surname Ui and if they’re here at this event…

“Ui?” you ask cooly. “Don’t tell me you mean Ui Koutarou.”

The surprise that flashes through Dazai’s eyes tells you all you need to know, and you can’t help the scoff you let out, a bitter feeling spreading through your chest. Ui Koutarou, one of the senior journalists at the Ivory Eagle—a group that’s been relentlessly trying to pin down the Mori Corporation as the business front for the Port Mafia. 

Is that what this is? 

The thought is as haunting as it is jarring, realizing that maybe this has all just been some giant scheme that you fell right into. You know the man has been trying to expose you as an executive of the Port Mafia—the first stepping stone of taking down the Port Mafia. Is that why Dazai attached himself to you so quickly? Pushed into it by his professor as a means to get proof of your affiliation with the Mafia? You’d assumed maybe it was your ability at work, making him more comfortable around you, and since he was so lonely, he ended up attaching himself to you but… this would make more sense, wouldn’t it? 

Dazai is a lot smarter than he makes himself out to be, a lot more observant and perceptive; you knew that day when you showed up at his apartment wounded that he was seeking out information about you. He could’ve been asking about the military bill to prepare himself for this event but… could he have been asking about it because Ui Koutarou is using him as a puppet to corner you? To get the proof that he needs?

You don’t want to believe it, but the passive form of your ability isn’t strong enough to create such a dependency even on the weakest of minds… and this makes a lot more sense than someone liking you for who you are.

You don’t say anything else, unwilling to incriminate yourself anymore than you already have. You’re sure Dazai must have some idea of who you are by now—maybe not exactly, but there’s no shot that he doesn’t have a clue as to your real occupation, and if you keep running your mouth, it’s only a matter of time before you hand him the proof Ui Koutarou needs on a silver platter. 

So, instead, you shake your head and walk back to the door, unlocking it so you can go back to the event hall.

Dazai grabs your wrist before you can. His grip is weak enough that you could pull out of it if you want, but you don’t. You don’t turn to look at him, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“Can’t you just tell me what I did wrong?” His voice wobbles a bit as he speaks, you can feel the way his fingers are trembling on your wrist. God, it’s so believable—you remember the way he kissed you, unsure and hesitant, breath shaky. No one is that good of an actor. “I did something again just now, why won’t you just tell me? I want to-”

You don’t want to hear the rest of that sentence, so instead, you look back at him and watch as the words die on his tongue. The look he gives you is confused and desperate, pleading with you to help him understand.

“If you know what’s good for you, Dazai, you’ll forget you came here tonight and won’t do another job for a man who’s willing to put three stupid kids on the line to save his own ass,” you say and Dazai’s brows furrow, he looks impossibly more confused as he waits for you to explain, protests and questions on the tip of his tongue.

You leave before he can get any of them out.

Dazai’s head spins as he leaves the event hall. He tries to seek you out again, but you’re nowhere to be found, so he finds himself wandering the edges of the event hall, unsure of what to do. Mishima Noriko is missing, too, he can’t help but notice with a tight feeling in his chest. Hayashi and Sato are speaking quietly to one another by the refreshments table, heads dipped together and serious expressions on their faces.

“Dazai,” Ayato calls, making his way over to where Dazai is standing.

After your words, Dazai can’t help but wince at how loud his voice is in comparison to the other attendees of the event. It’s glaringly obvious now that it’s been pointed out to him—even when he lowers his voice, there’s a jarring cadence that’s stark compared to the smooth tones of the other people here. 

Hinami is with him too, Dazai realizes, watching as the girl comes over to Dazai’s side, looking between the two of them before asking: “Are you ready to head out?”

No, Dazai wants to say, throat swollen and stomach churning. He doesn’t know when he’ll see you again if he leaves now. Doesn’t know if he’ll see you again. This might be his last chance and he’s so frustrated and lost. He wants answers from you—more than that, he wants you. 

He wants you.

You didn’t explain why you lied to him. You hardly explained why you were so mad about him being at the event. You clearly know who his professor is, you’re clearly unhappy about Dazai working with him, and you made a cryptic comment about how he’s putting Dazai and his classmates on the line to save his own ass.

Does that mean you know? Do you know what information that they’re trying to uncover at this event? You kind of implied it, didn’t you? You implied that a lot of the politicians in the Diet have affiliations with criminal organizations because what else could that ‘good and bad’ comment have meant? But how could you possibly know that? How could you know unless-

Dazai’s mind drifts back to all of the suspicions that had been floating through his head, letting out a heavy breath. Shit, could you really be-

“Dazai,” Hinami prods, nudging his shoulder, but before Dazai can make an excuse about staying longer, the entire building shakes.

Dazai nearly topples right over, barely catching himself on the wall behind him. His eyes are wide as he looks around the room, watching as people shriek and dive for cover. Again? The second one in a few days?

“Come on,” Ayato grabs his wrist, and Dazai instantly draws back, not expecting the sudden touch. “Dazai, come on. Ui-sensei’s been texting. He’s panicked about something, we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Texting about what?” Dazai asks, casting one last longing look around the room, a last-ditch attempt to seek you out, only to find himself empty-handed again, shaking his head as he follows the other two out of the building. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know,” Hinami says as they slip out of the building into the front parking lot. “Just said we needed to get out before things started going down.”

“Crazy that the earthquake happens right as he tells us that,” Ayato notes. “What are the chances?”

What are the chances? 

Unless it’s not an earthquake, Dazai thinks, taking a deep breath of the cool air outside, mind racing as he thinks back to the day you showed up at his apartment, the cryptic comment about the earthquake. You acted like you didn’t know that it was an earthquake, but Dazai had a strong gut feeling that you knew exactly what it was and it wasn’t an earthquake. And Ayato is right; what are the chances it happens twice, and both times you’re around for it? The first time, you seem to know what’s going on but try to evade talking about it; the second time, you mysteriously disappear right as it takes place.

It’s suspicious. Everything about this is suspicious, and Dazai just doesn’t know what to think. He wishes that he had more time to talk to you, that you hadn’t rushed off as soon as he mentioned Professor Ui—and that’s suspicious, too, because Professor Ui sent them here to try to get some intel on one of the big mafias in Tokyo so…

Dazai can’t even finish sorting out his scrambled thoughts because a familiar van is pulling up to the front steps of the city hall. The door is sliding open and Dazai can’t stop himself from looking back one last time before he’s being ushered into the back of the van by Hinami and Ayato. Professor Ui is already waiting inside for them, brows creased and a frown on his lips—an expression that instantly has Dazai on edge. 

“Ui-sensei, what’s going on?” Hinami asks softly as Ayato pulls the back doors of the van closed. Slightly alarmed, Dazai watches as Professor Ui instantly motions for the driver to get going. “Is something wrong?” 

Dazai’s stomach lurches as the van flies over a bump, gaze focused on Professor Ui as he taps furiously at his phone. His voice is a bit tighter than he intends for it to be when he asks, “Aren’t you going to tell us what’s going on?” 

“We got a tip-off that the Port Mafia was going to be in attendance at this event at the last second,” Professor Ui finally says, sitting up in his seat as he focuses his attention on the three of them. Dazai stiffens, mind racing back to Mishima Noriko and her last minute attendance of the event when she heard that you were attending, mind racing back to his piling suspicions of you. “We also got a tip-off that there was going to be a major conflict between them and one of the Tokyo-based Yakuza syndicates tonight. We wanted to get you out of there before it happened.”

“What?” Ayato sounds far too excited for Dazai’s liking; he gives the other man a heavy side-eye before focusing back on Professor Ui. “A gang fight is breaking out tonight? Wouldn’t that have been the best chance to get the proof?”

Best chance to get killed more like it, Dazai thinks, hardly withholding an eye roll as he keeps his gaze pinned on their professor. He can’t help the way his heart is skipping around with anxiety; he finds himself nervous for you, remembering how you abruptly disappeared from the event.

“Too dangerous,” Professor Ui shakes his head. “The fight has already broken out. Did you feel that quake?” 

“The earthquake?” Hinami asks curiously.

“Not an earthquake,” Professor Ui says dryly, grabbing his laptop and clicking a few times before turning the laptop to face them. Dazai’s gaze focuses on the screen, frowning at the blurry image of a man with red hair and an ugly hat. “From what we know, that was the ability of this man. We believe he’s an executive of the Port Mafia, the gravity manipulator. He’s been at the top of the country’s most wanted list for three years since he leveled all of Izumi-ku; hard to track down because he’s frequently in the west. They say he’s currently the strongest ability user in the world.”

“Tacky hat,” Dazai mutters absently, ignoring the looks he receives for the comment.

He’s ignored.

“I didn’t see him at the event,” Ayato announces, leaning back in his seat. “I made a lot of rounds too. Maybe your tip was off.”

“He wasn’t the executive in attendance,” Professor Ui says firmly.

Dazai’s heart drops to his feet. His professor flips the laptop back around, and Dazai can hardly breathe as he clicks through again. It feels like an eternity before the clicking stops, and he can hardly even drag his gaze back to the screen. 

Dazai knows what it’s going to show him before the computer is even turned toward them again. Doesn’t need to hear him say your name. Doesn’t need to see your face on the screen.

He looks anyway.

Your smile is foreign—unkind, almost—and the expression on your face is much cooler and unapproachable than what he’s become used to. You look beautiful, you always look beautiful, but he feels sick to his stomach at the sight of you when he’s usually dizzy with how much he’s enamored by you. His ears ring as he tries to tune into what Professor Ui is saying.

“... presents as vice-chair of the board of the Mori Corporation, suspected of being an executive of the Port Mafia… -sing her position within the Mafia would be the easiest way of exposing the Mori Corporation for what it is considering how public of a figure she is… say that Mafia affiliates tend to refer to her as hime in recognition of her position as heir…”

Dazai doesn’t care to hear anymore. He ignores the way Hinami stares at him with wide eyes, ignores when Professor Ui asks if any of them managed to speak to her at all, ignores everything as he stares at the damning image of you on that screen, confirming all of the suspicions he’s discarded over the past few weeks of knowing you.

Suddenly, for better or for worse, all of the peculiarities that he’s noted about you begin to make sense—everything from your ungodly wealth to how evasive you were about why you lied to him about going abroad, saying it’s too complicated to explain when he begged you to tell him why you lied. 

Shit.

There are too many emotions ricocheting through his chest and mind for him to pinpoint all of them, but as he looks back to the direction they’d left, knowing that whatever conflict is taking place there, you’re at the center of it, one emotion stands out above all of the rest—fear.

[billfarrah]

One of my favourite things about Young Royals and its characters is how much it romanticizes being utterly ordinary.

Stories often focus on characters who are exceptionally good at something or who are more ambitious than the average person. Even in the teen shows I’ve watched, these young characters always seemed to have their dream career and dream university figured out at a young age and I could never relate to that because I had none of those things figured out as a teen. It always felt like pushing this narrative that teenagers need to have their entire lives figured out before their brains are even fully developed.

None of the characters in YR seem particularly ambitious and in fact, the main character’s journey is a story of anti-ambition. When he is introduced to Simon, it is precisely Simon’s ordinariness that draws Wille to him. Sure, Simon is a very talented singer, but it’s never indicated within the series that he has dreams of being a pop star. It’s just something he likes to do. Simon is motivated by very ordinary things - he wants to do well in school so he can have better opportunities for himself, he wants to take care of his family, he wants to hang out with his friends and play video games. He’s a dedicated student but not necessarily valedictorian. It’s not his ambition that Wille is drawn to but his integrity and kindness and warmth.

Wille had a chance to be extraordinary - to be Sweden’s first gay king - but being extraordinary has never been Wille’s ambition. Wille’s ultimate goal and dream within the series’ narrative is to be free to make his own decisions and live his life as he pleases. He just wants to kiss his boyfriend and get drunk at parties and live his life one day at a time instead of spending every moment of his life preparing for an inevitable future he doesn’t want. In the end Wille is extraordinary not for his ambition, but for his bravery to reject the expectations thrust upon him and throw himself into the unknown and see where it takes him. Wille had a whole future in front of him as crown prince and future king - he’d never have to work a day in his life and would have people advising his every move - and he rejects that. This lack of ambition is not portrayed as a moral failure, but a necessary step in Wille’s journey to personal self-discovery and fulfillment of his own desires. His desire right now is simple - be free with Simon, but that doesn’t mean his dreams end here forever. He deserves peace and tranquility after all the trauma he’s been through without having to worry about where or who he’s gonna be in a few years. He deserves time to just exist.

None of the characters know where they’re going when they drive away at the end. We as the audience don’t know what careers if any these characters will find themselves in, but that’s also not important to this story. The series is saying you don’t have to have everything figured out when you’re 17 and you don’t have to do something just because your parents think they know what’s best for you and even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the agency to know what you don’t want.

It’s not a moral failing to want the simple things in life or to be ordinary, and I love that Young Royals celebrates that. It shows the beauty in simple moments that feel revolutionary to a person - touching the person you love, forgiving someone and making amends after a hardship, whooping with your friends in a car as you drive into the summer and celebrates them. Ultimately these are the moments that make life worth living.

[whirlybirbs]

About "Bruised Ego"

If I may ask how long has Toshinori been attracted to Derecho? Has it been one of those "for a villain, i'd tap that." Or more of a developed after the rehab? Has there been moments of where they go out to eat and Derecho or All Might get hit on leading to the other person to get a little jealous.

But honestly amazing writing as always, I've been following since the ben solo days and still go back to read them every now and then!!

it's complicated.

truthfully, pre-villain rehab derecho is dangerous.

you're some old money, long standing yakuza's prized guard dog, constantly amped up on quirk enhancers — a drug i personally consider the biggest, baddest stimulant crossed with an immediate performance enhancer. it's essentially like feeding you a live wire.

all might's agency has a task force dedicated to arresting derecho — or, well you. before you had a hero name. before you were anything short of a frenzied, violent enforcer on a short leash. back when you were a grinning mugshot and an extensive rap sheet.

you were different, then.

toshinori knows it's the drugs — he knows that's how you came close to nearly killing him that one night. it's how he learned not to go toe-to-toe with you in the rain. water is a conductor and all that.

you are beautiful — and you were back then, too. scarier. tougher. less of a light in your eyes and more of a blood thirst that earned you title of most wanted. it's almost like a knife's edge. get too close and you'll get cut.

toshinori likes strong women. strong men, too.

but back then, he hated you.

there was a sliver of him that knew you were a victim of your circumstances — but all the playful rivalry went out the window that night in april when your fists cracked across his face in the pouring rain and you swore you'd kill him and everyone he ever loved.

I LOVE MAKING YOU BLEED.

it's the night you almost flatlined back in that disgusting, cold yakuza safe-house. it's a wake-up call. you flew too close to the sun. one breath away from an overdose you wouldn't come back from.

he arrests you the next time you go head to head, after a botched robbery downtown. you... you just can't keep doing it anymore.

it's that image that winds up on the front page of every newspaper in japan — the one with your chest slammed down against the hood of a detectives car, your legs spread, and all might gripping the cuffs behind your back to tightly you had bruises for weeks.

they muzzle you.

it's... poetic, really.

truth be told, prison is the best thing that ever happens to you.

the villain rehab program is second.

it takes toshinori a long time to agree — with a lot of bargaining and parol restrictions placed on your head. but the hero commission are different sort of vile ilk. the kind you don't argue with.

it takes toshinori a long time to even loosen up around you, too. truth be told, he regrets to admit he was convinced you would end up back behind bars — this time in tartarus.

you're irritable, short-tempered, violent, and often times cruel.

but you're smart. and, despite your circumstances, you do have a good heart. slowly, toshinori can see the fear melt away and you're less like a cornered dog snapping its jaw.

you take praise well. you enjoy routine. you begin to attend those meetings gran torino recommended — after all, it's not just villains who struggle with quirk enhancer addiction. there are plenty of heroes who have wandered down that path, seeking greatness at the cost of their sobriety.

it's slow. a new sort of dangerous. over time, you become enmeshed in his life in a different way than years ago. now, it's through text typos and late night patrols. it's you letting toshinori hitch a ride on the back of your yamaha ninja. it's comfortable silence in the agency's infirmary after a long mission.

and when you smile. well, shit.

yea, he's always liked strong women.

and you're dangerous.

— a reference to this fic here ;

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

I'm going to say this on every chapter i post here LOL, but GO TO CHAPTER 1 AND READ!!!!! MY!!!!!!! WARNINGS!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 3

[Prev] [Next]

You loved your office, you really did.  Two of your coworkers were your best friends from high school, the work-life balance was ideal, your bosses were super understanding and encouraging of all their employees endeavors, and the weekly catered lunches truly felt like a luxury.

The only qualm was the noise.

The office had an open layout, and while everyone had their own desk, it was very easy to move around the space and talk to everyone while on and off the job.  This meant any personal phone calls had to be taken out of the entire vicinity.  And in your case, into an unlocked broom closet across the industrial building’s hallway, in front of another agency’s door.

You were sitting on a plastic box containing something you weren’t sure of, anxiously bouncing your feet as your heart hammered in your chest.  Each time the ringback tone exited your speakers caused another cold wave of anxiety to flood from your head to the soles of your feet.  You swallowed a thick glob of spit as you struggled to maintain your breathing.  You were sure your blouse was going to have armpit stains when you returned to your desk.

Finally, a voice picked up the other line.

[Thank you for calling Grand Line Gynecology and Obstetrics, how can I help you today?]

The sweet, welcoming voice of the receptionist on the other end of the line made you breathe a sigh of relief, though you weren’t out of the woods just yet.  Far from it.  “Hi, uhm, I’m a patient with Dr. Robin, and I was wondering if I would be able to get an appointment as soon as possible.”

A few keyboard clicking noises followed your request.

[Can I have your name and date of birth?]

You quietly relayed your information, biting your lip impatiently.  More typing sounds could be heard.

[Alright, Mrs. Trafalgar, and do you mind if I ask the purpose of your visit?]

You knew it was important information for your doctor to know prior to seeing you, but the thought still made a heavy pit develop in your stomach.  “Uhm… f-fertility consultation…?  I guess.”

More clicking.

[Of course, I’m looking up Dr. Robin’s availability right now, hold on just a moment, please!]

You’ve dealt with crappy phone receptionists in the past, but whoever was usually on the receiving end of your calls to your gynecologist was always so pleasant.  You could never quite recognise her voice in person, but her bubbly and patient speech was always greatly appreciated during your otherwise anxious phone calls.  Finally, she came back onto the line.

[Dr. Robin’s next available appointment isn’t for three months, unfortunately, but I can still fit you into that time slot if you would like!  I can also write your name down, so if any appointments open up sooner, we will give you a call.]

You breathed another sigh of relief.  “That would be amazing, thank you.”

[Alright, Mrs. Trafalgar, I have you marked down for Thursday, May 1st at 10:00 AM.  We’ll give you a call if anything changes and you can always call us if you develop other concerns, okay?]

You smiled at the broom closet floor.  “I appreciate it, thank you very much.”  The phone clicked off after trading goodbyes, your arm falling onto your lap.  You hadn’t realized how tight you were gripping your phone until then, your hand trembling with how harsh your hold was on the device.  With a sigh, you opened your text conversation with Law.

Hi baby, I just called the obgyn, they cant fit me in until may 1st but she said if anything opens up theyll call me back.  Fingers crossed something opens up sooner, hopefully you dont have to wait as long!  I’ll see you later, i love youuuuu ^3^

You put your phone to sleep and stuffed it into the pocket of your trousers as you finally exited the broom closet.  An employee of the agency across from yours was entering his office and tossed you a very confused glance at you leaving the innocuous room, but you paid him no mind as you walked back into your office to continue your work.

“There you are, I was wondering where you went!”  Ikkaku was waiting for you at your desk with her work laptop in hand.  “I wanted to go over a few designs with you, but when I went to find you, you were just, POOF!  Gone like the wind!”

You laughed at her excited talking, finally sitting at your desk again and grabbing an unoccupied chair for your friend to sit in.  “Sorry to make you wait, I had to take a phone call.”

Ikkaku brushed off having to wait with a cheery, “It’s fine!  No biggie!” before opening her laptop and inputting her passcode.  You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.  While Ikkaku was opening her files, you slipped out your device and tapped the screen.

Baby~~<3

Hopefully something opens up, but it’s good that you at least got an appointment.  I got my appointment with urology on my lunch break today.  We’re making steps.  I love you, see you later.

You smiled at the text.

“Why does Law need to see a urologist?” Ikkaku whispered beside you, making you jump and hide your screen.  She was looking at you with curiosity in her big, brown eyes.

“It’s nothing, really.”  You quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket.  Ikkaku was your best friend, she really was, but the last thing you wanted to do was bring up your potential infertility issues while on the clock, and especially while your anxieties were still fresh and raw at the forefront of your brain.

Ikkaku must have sensed your profound fear, as she shrugged and turned her attention back to her laptop.  “So here’s what I was drafting…”

—

While you had to wait around three months for your appointment, Law’s was scheduled shockingly quick.  Almost too quick for his liking.  The following week.  Which, to Law’s mutual discomfort and relief, came much quicker than he thought it would.  

He was thanking the heavens above that he had the day off for once.

Law followed all the rules to a T before the appointment.  No ejaculation 2-3 days prior, but no longer than 5.  He’d jerk off into a sterile cup in the clinic, hand that to the doctor, and wait a few hours.  While waiting, he’d get his hormone blood work collected.  Easy as pie.  He walked into the clinic feeling oddly confident in himself and his abilities to follow pre-procedure protocol, as a doctor himself.  The brief moment of cocky joy was interrupted as soon as the fertility doctor entered the examination room Law was sitting in.

“Alriiiight!  Mr. Trafalgar Law!”  The doctor was shouting his name before even closing the door, making the black-haired man cringe.  The nametag on the open laboratory-style coat he wore read ‘Dr. Franky.’  Next to the name tag was a little enamel pin of a robot.  The door was closed with a moderate slam.  “You’re that cardiologist from New World Hospital, right?  You’re crazy popular, so cool to see you in the clinic!  So we’re here to check on your little swimmers, huh?”  Dr. Franky, who was shockingly tall and very broad in the shoulders, plopped into his seat and placed his laptop on the counter in front of him.  

The force of him sitting on the stool caused the pneumatic tube to compress forcefully downwards.  Law had a mental image in his head of the tube exploding and propelling the spring upward into the doctor’s ass.  He barely even registered the fact that his reputation as the city’s leading cardiothoracic surgeon seemed to have followed him to his semen analysis appointment.  He shook his head quickly before nodding.  “Uh, yeah, semen analysis.”

Dr. Franky was rapidly typing in whatever patient portal he was using.  “Semen analysis is such an uppity thing to call it, I personally like calling it the Super Swimming Meet!”  He laughed, the voice echoing around the small room and making Law wince.  He finally finished typing, slamming his laptop closed.  It was then Law noticed a few pieces of scotch tape holding the laptop’s hinges together.  (What kind of clinic is this?)  Franky’s booming voice interrupted Law’s thoughts.  “All you have to do is wank off into this cup here.  Cap it tightly and bring it to the nurse’s station when you’re done and it’ll get sent off into the lab!”

Law carefully took the cup from the doctor, his face heating up in embarrassment.  “Uhm… thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with before I leave you to it?”

Law wanted to ask if there was a different room he should be doing this in, or if handing the cup to a random nurse was proper protocol, but he honestly wanted nothing more than to get out of there as quickly as possible.  He was starting to regret his colleagues at the hospital giving him clinic recommendations.  “Uhh… no thank you, I think that’s everything.”

“Alright, Mr. Trafalgar, I’ll let you get to it!”  Dr. Franky left fairly quickly, much to Law’s relief.  His ears were still ringing with the volume of the doctor’s voice.

Law was now left alone, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair, holding the empty sterile plastic cup.  After that interaction, the last thing he was thinking of doing was masturbating, but he needed to get it over with.  For your sake, and his.

He awkwardly stood and undid his belt, letting his pants and boxers fall to the floor before placing a few napkins onto the plastic chair and sitting back down.  He shivered at the cold feeling of the napkin-covered chair against his bare ass.  This was the least erotic situation he could’ve ever experienced.  He figured it would be far from the norm, but this was beyond any expectation he could’ve developed.  He shivered.

Grabbing the cup again, Law unscrewed the cap just enough so that he’d be able to pop it open as soon as he needed to.  When he stared at his flaccid dick, however, he uttered a defeated sigh.

‘Think of something to get you hard, man, think of your wife,’ he told himself.  Even his inner voice was desperate.

The sterile doctor’s office was completely inhibiting any thoughts of you to remain permanent in his head.  Every time he tried to think of your smell, your taste, the feeling of your bare flesh against his fingers, he would inhale and take in the bland stench of sterile alcohol and plastic.  He groaned.

Reaching into his pants pocket on the floor, he procured his phone.  Opening an incognito window on his web browser, he inwardly apologized to you (and double checked that the door was locked) before opening up a porn website for the first time since he was an undergrad in college.

—

Law came home a few hours after you.  You were standing at the stove setting the oven preheat temperature, a loaf pan of uncooked banana bread sitting on the stove top waiting to bake.  You turned to ask how his appointments went, but kept your mouth shut when you saw Law kick his shoes off and sit at the bar counter in your kitchen, placing his head in his hands.

“What happened?” you hurried over to him, immediately growing anxious that he had received bad news.  Your stomach turned.

He lifted his head.  “I… I had to watch porn today.”

[sl-vega]

✧.* DREAMS LOST, LOVE FOUND

pairing: Chigiri Hyouma x [IDOL!] Reader

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, oneshot, strangers to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers, pre-bluelock au, canon compliant

synopsis: in which two former geniuses bond over their potentially lost dreams (or in which two strangers develop feelings by making fun of cheesy news articles about themselves)

CW: potentially ooc chigiri, possible innaccuracies with vocal chord paralysis conditions/symptoms 

"(Y/N) (L/N): A Bright Star that Burned out too Quickly"

"Idol (Y/N) Retiring?!"

"ASRUN's (L/N)'s Career Over?! Get the latest scoop now!"

You scrolled through the magazines in the waiting room. So many cheesy tabloids talking about your latest concert, and possibly last. You froze up on stage, and your voice just didn't work. The gossip columns came up with so many reasons, ranging from fairly possible to completely bizarre. But they all seemed to come to the same conclusion.

Your career was over.

Ended, finished, decimated, completely and utterly over.

And deep down, you knew that. The doctors said that there was a chance that you could recover, even if it didn't occur naturally, surgery was always an option.

You had recently been diagnosed with vocal chord paralysis, which prohibited your ability to talk and sing. And no singing meant no concerts.

No concerts meant no more performing.

No more performing meant that you couldn't be an idol anymore.

You were told your worsened condition had something to do with your hectic rehearsal schedule, and how you pushed yourself to the point of self-harm during practice. Suzuki, the nurse that had been assigned to assist you, insisted that you come to the clinic for weekly check-ups and vocal warm ups.

Your agency managed to fund all of this because they wanted you back performing with the rest of your group members as soon as possible.

But you weren't sure if you could even continue to perform. You could deny it all you wanted, but you weren't in shape to be an idol anymore.

So here you are, rotting in a waiting room, waiting for your parents to come and get you. Once a musical sensation, once hailed as the pride of the idol industry.

Now I'm nothing more than a helpless patient.

You leaned back in your chair, a random sports article in your hand. You hadn't paid any mind to what it was about when you picked it up, all you knew was that it wasn't about you and your doomed career, and that was all you needed.

But your parents weren't coming anytime soon, and you needed to kill some time, so reading a couple pages wouldn't hurt. You glanced at the front cover. It appeared to be some local newspaper that covered soccer teams in the prefecture.

"Chigiri Hyouma: The Red Leopard!"

The front page had those words printed out in a vibrant pink font. You snorted, it would be one thing if this was about some world-class pro, but all this fuss over a high school kid? The picture on the front page wasn't the best either, it was a blur of bright red hair and you could make out what seemed to be a jersey.

But you couldn't discern a clear image of his face though. So naturally, out of curiosity, you had to flip the page.

Chigiri Hyouma huh? You heard that name mentioned somewhere before. You remembered passing by a few girls a couple of months ago that couldn't seem to shut up about him.

Please, he's probably just some amateur that happens to be somewhat good looking, there's no way he's actually all that-

But, it certainly wouldn't hurt to read about him a little more...

And so you did just that, flipping to the next page due to your insatiable curiosity about this Chigiri fellow.

Let's see what you're all about Mr. Red Leopard-

You finally flipped the page not expecting much, but then you were greeted by a very flattering image of the very subject that peaked your interest.

Holy fuck he's really pretty

Luscious red locks, bright pink eyes that you could get lost in, gentle, feminine features yet he still looked so god damn handsome?!

Your eyes widened as a blush crept up to your face. What was this guy doing playing soccer?! He could've easily been a model, or an idol, or a movie star, you weren't even that pretty what the actual fu-

You had to stop your train of thought. You weren't seriously crushing on a photo of some stranger were you?

Yet, against your better judgment, you continued reading the article, it listed a few details such as his stats, position, and his high school among other.

You were consuming all of this information at an oddly fast rate. Why was this guy so captivating to you?

Before you knew it you had sped through the article. And you had somehow memorized everything on those few pages.

God, I'm pathetic...

You rubbed your temples and sighed, you put the article down, and you were about to read a different magazine about something other than your new found infatuation, but as your hand was about to reach to some political newspaper, your gaze quickly shifted to another photo of a familiar red head.

Another article about him?

Looks like someone's local celebrity...

You moved your hand away from the previous paper you were about to pick up, and you exchanged the current article in your hand for the other one about your newest subject of interest.

Surely one more magazine about him wouldn't hurt....

The front cover was a clearer photo of Chigiri, but it wasn't the happiest. It was a picture of him leaning against one of his teammates for support as they escorted him off the field.

"The Red Leopard's Career: OVER?!"

It was from the same local paper that you were reading earlier, seemed the editors had a soft spot for him.

"Chigiri Hyouma damages his leg in his most recent match?! Further statements are awaited from his family, could this be the end of the genius speedster?"

You sighed at the writer's attempt to dramatize the situation, surely Chigri was in pain. Having something you're so passionate about being taken away my your own physical limitations. You definitely knew the feeling.

The feeling of your dream being snatched right before your eyes. The feeling of a critical condition with some complicated-sounding name being the only thing keeping you away from your goal.

He's just like me...

Wait- what were you thinking? First you ogle at a bunch of photos at him, now you're coming up with a bunch of weird parasocial fantasies about how the two of you actually have some things in common?!

I need to get a grip...

You absentmindedly flipped to the next page of article, somewhere you had made peace in the back of your mind about your attraction to the boy. You were like some little school girl, crushing on some cute actor or model that you saw in fashion magazines.

Of course you were soon snapped out of that trance by an unfamiliar voice.

"Didn't know I was such a big deal that a world-class idol would be reading about me."

You lifted your head to the source of the voice, standing in front to you was a young man around your age leaning against a crutch.

Of course before you noticed any of that, you saw the same red hair, gorgeous pink eyes, and soft features that you had been religiously staring at for the past hour.

Holy shit it's actually him.

Holy shit, he knows who I am

HOLY SHIT CHIGIRI HYOUMA KNOWS WHO I AM-

You had a whirlwind of thoughts about the situation. And you had made a countless amount of observations about him. His hair was longer than it was in the pictures, he looked a lot leaner too, but taller as well.

You were probably shamelessly checking him out right about now, but who could blame you? If it wasn't for the crutch, and the evident exhaustion on his face, you would've thought he was an angel rather than a patient.

And so you did what you always did when confronted by an incredibly attractive person.

You panicked.

Am I checking him out? I'm probably checking him out, I should look away. But what if that's rude?! Should I continue making eye contact? Or should I avoid it?! WHY DIDN'T THEY TEACH ME HOW TO TALK TO BOYS WHEN I WAS A TRAINEE?!-

"It's rude to stare you know."

He had nonchalantly said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Oh god, even his voice was gorgeous

"Sorry..."

You muttered, looking down at the floor, averting his vivid eyes using any means necessary.

Great, now he probably thinks I'm a creep, nice going...

"Nah it's fine, sorry if I startled you when I came over, I recognized you 'cuz my sister's a fan, and you looked so engrossed in that article about me so I was pretty curious."

You simply muttered a quiet "Oh" in return.

Why am I like this?! He's trying to make an effort to talk to me, and I'm not even contributing at all!

He moved closer to you, he sat himself down on one of the seats close to you, and pulled out another sports magazine with his face on it.

"I never quite liked that one author that you're reading right now, has a habit of exaggerating the least important details and not giving the full story."

He handed the paper he was holding to you.

"This one's one of my personal favorites."

He smiled and handed the magazine to you. Your hands brushed, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His hands were really soft and gentle.

You took the article from his hand and opened it, your eyes greeted by a huge headlines in all caps; "Chigiri; RISING STAR OF THE FOOTBALL WORLD!"

You couldn't help but snort at the title, these editors were really something else.

"Cheesy I know, but it's better than most."

You giggled again, flipping through the pages of the booklet in your hands. You had pointed to a paragraphs that you had found amusing, to which Chigiri had said "Not everyone is a famous idol you know, some of us locals have to take whatever we can get!"

Next thing you knew, the two of you were talking like two old friends, giggling over silly comments and misconceptions that the media had about the two of you.

You didn't know how, but much time had passed, and quite frankly, you didn't care, Chigiri was charming, and rather fun to talk to.

Now, you were showing him a tabloid about some dating rumour about you and some model that your agency had done a collab with.

"Seriously? One slightly suggestive photo and now they think the two of you are hooking up? Wouldn't your managers be scrambling to cover that up? Doesn't it ruin your "idol" image or somethin'?"

"The higher ups at my job were trying to cover it up before realizing that this sort of publicity was actually pretty positive for my image."

You laughed as you pointed to a few more photos of you and said model. It was nice, being able to laugh about this with someone, it was nice, letting the pain go away, even for a little while. But, Chigiri was a lot more than just a distraction at this point.

Suddenly your phone buzzed.

"Sorry, let me check this real quick."

You took your phone out of your pocket, and it turned out that your father was outside of the clinic waiting for you. You tried to hide the disappointment on your face. You didn't want to leave just yet, not when you were finally making some progress with Chigiri.

But, your dad definitely wouldn't take it well if you wanted to stay out later with a boy, a new boy no less.

You sighed, shoving the device back into your pocket.

"I take it that you need to leave now?" Chigiri asked, maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, or maybe you were just super delusional, but it almost sounded like he was disappointed that you had to leave.

"Yeah, sorry..."

"It was nice meeting you, by the way."

He held out his hand.

"Chigiri Hyouma, but you probably know that by now."

You were confused by the gesture at first, you certainly did know his name by now, so why was he doing this?

Oh right, I was too busy crushing on him, so we never formerly introduced ourselves...

You placed your hand in his, reciprocating the handshake.

"(L/N) (Y/N)."

He smiled as you got up, your hand still intertwined with his, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and you almost felt your heart jump out of your body."

You really have me under your spell, Chigiri Hyouma...

[yourresume]

Just read the second Wild Robot book (VERY big spoilers for The Wild Robot Escapes)

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Alright I finished The Wild Robot Escapes and… what? What was that?! The ending floored me, and not in the good way. And everyone else seems to love it. Am I crazy? I’m organizing my thoughts here because I’m honestly quite upset. Spoilers ahead, naturally.

So the story reaches climax when Roz is cornered by a group of RECOs, who are hunting her after she escaped the farm she belonged to. Robots are slaves in this world, this is the status quo. She is shot, and wakes up in front of the woman who is revealed to be in charge of creating the robots, Dr. Molovo.

They have a chat about purpose, the nature of consciousness, love, personhood, etc. Roz asks if there are any robots like her, to which Molovo replied they’d all be killed by now, and Roz seemed satisfied with this answer.

Molovo is convinced and agrees to free Roz from her shackles, but not before melting down her body to prove to the humans (and to any robots watching) that the rogue robot has been killed. She then bestows upon her a brand new body, free of her serial number and model name, granting her proof of her autonomy.

Roz and Brightbill stay with Molovo for a while, and Roz decides to view Molovo as her mother, developing a familial relationship with her. When Molovo flies Roz back to her island, they have a teary goodbye, and confirm they love each other.

Now, for my thoughts. I don’t think you’re supposed to think too hard about this ending, and I don’t think the author did, but I had this sinking feeling as I finished up this novel. At first I thought it was meant to be bittersweet, like the first, but it kept bothering me. So I dug a little deeper and realized the implications that were bothering me so much.

Roz ends this story loving Molovo, in her eyes the best human she’s met on her journey. Molovo, who is the human responsible for creating her kind to be enslaved in the first place.

I’d be fine with this if either: a. Roz was just going along with Molovo so that she could escape and survive, and never really agreed with her views, or b. Molovo changed her ways upon meeting Roz and stopped with the robot enslavement. But no, Roz becomes family with her oppressor. She agrees with her viewpoint. She believes other robots are deserving of being enslaved, because she’s “special.”

Now, I don’t need Roz to change the world. She’s just one member of a marginalized group, who’s struggling to survive as it is. But to side with the human most responsible for perpetuating robot oppression in the end? It’s too much for me to bear. Not my Roz.

Not to mention that Molovo faked Roz’s death and published the video out to everyone. Her explanation is that she wants to do this to assuage the humans’ fears of a, ahem, Wild Robot on the loose. And she does do this. By sending the message to everyone, human and robot, that dissident robots will be executed. She has made Roz an accessory to the oppression of her own kind.

The argument for Roz deserving freedoms that other robots do not is that she is “special.” I.e. there is no other robot in existence that has gained or could gain the same level of sentience that she has. Not only do I disagree with this idea, I think if it was actually true, we’d have a worse story.

Roz’s entire arc in the first book was learning to be wild, to survive and thrive in the wilderness. She did this because her programming prompted her to prioritize her survival and being good to others. The idea that she was somehow more fated to develop a sense of self than the other robots not only feels disrespectful to the others, but also takes away her agency. By claiming she was born differently, in a way that made her somehow better than the other robots, you cheapen all the hard work she put into becoming a better person despite being built to serve. She is special, not because of what she was originally, but because of what she became. Or at least, I thought she was. Now I’m not so sure.

I also don’t think the text really supports this interpretation either. Roz was able to hide her identity in order to fit in as a “normal” robot, you’re telling me that nobody else out there did the same for their survival? No other robot is feigning soullessness so as to not be killed? They’re programmed to do anything they can to stay alive, just like we humans are.

I think it’s incredibly unlikely that the only robot who had the ability to self realize was the one who needed it most to survive. I think there’s more support for the idea that most robots have the capability to learn and grow, just as Roz did. Hell, mass produced computers in real life all have the same starting point, after all. It’s just that most of them were not put in the same situation where they had to change themselves in order to fit in like she had. Most, but not all, as I’m sure with this capability, some of them are just going about their work and pretending to be “normal,” just as Roz did while on the farm.

Interestingly, while the original books leave the question up in the air about Roz being truly special, the 2024 movie actually answers this question outright. The movie added Vontra. Yes, she is awful and a foil to Roz in almost every way, but you can’t argue that she lacks sentience. A “normal” robot would not need to physically dominate someone else in order to feel power over them, and they wouldn’t become so upset when their target tried to escape. Vontra treated Roz horribly, but in doing so, proved that she too had whatever mental difference that made Roz so special.

I didn’t like Vontra’s addition in the movie at first, I thought she was unnecessary and, well, she reminded me a little too much of the abusers I’ve come across in my own life. But after reading the second book, her inclusion gives me hope. By including her, the second movie can’t argue that Roz is unique in her experience, because we’re shown that is simply not the case. I really hope the ending to the second movie sees some serious differences to the second book.

In my shock after reading that ending, I absentmindedly flipped through the last few pages, all the extra content that came with the book. And then I saw reading questions, for the kids who read this book in class. I can see people arguing that “it’s not that deep” and “it’s just a kids book,” but I think the fact that it’s for children just makes the ending more disturbing to me. If I had read this as a child, I would have cried, and I just wouldn’t have the words to explain what I felt was wrong. But now, I do. This ending shows that the only members of an oppressed group that deserve rights are the ones that the oppressors deem “special.” The “good ones.” And that all the ones who don’t fit so nicely into that subjective category should be stripped of their personhood and enslaved. Not a good look.

I know flawed characters exist. But I don’t think Roz was meant to be morally gray. This ending was written in a way that felt more like we were expected to feel happy for Roz for making her way home, despite the fact that she blinded herself to the injustices faced by her kind back in human society. We don’t even get an inkling that she realizes something is wrong. The only part of it that we’re supposed to be sad about is that she could never see Molovo again. And yet, that’s the only part that didn’t upset me. Good riddance!

All in all, before I read this I was so invested in Roz. I’m autistic (yes, I know, you can tell), so I hold certain interests very dear to my heart, and The Wild Robot was one of them. Roz was my everything! To me, this ending felt like a betrayal from someone I love.

If you agree or disagree with this take I want to hear your thoughts! Hey, maybe some of you can make me feel better about all this.

TL;DR: Roz kind of ends the second book as an apologist for the slavery of her own kind, and is not challenged by the author in this notion. I am heartbroken.

[bird-inacage]

Love Sea Episode 9: Lost at Sea before the Finale

Sigh. I had high hopes for this episode, which reached it's apex in the main conflict with Rak's dad (our honorary big bad). But yet again it's at a crucial juncture in the story, where writing and execution have fallen short when it really mattered.

Despite building tension for the past few weeks in service of this moment, it's swiftly deflated with little fuss. I thought the contract-tearing scene would provide a riveting layer of complexity for our characters to navigate. But it's barely a hiccup. The entire pay off we've been hurtling towards just unceremoniously fizzles out.

Here are my observations as to why this episode missed the mark (some of which I hope to dig into when I do a full review of the series).

The 'saviour' plot device. Where a character repeatedly saves the day in service of other characters (regardless of their credentials to do so). This is the role they've boxed Mut in. He swoops in - solves, fixes, pursues, soothes. He's faultless. He's unwavering. He's Rak's hero in shining armour. This isn't fundamentally bad except his capacity is reduced mainly to just that, and the cost is little to no development of his own. I take enormous issue with this because I dearly love Mut. He has great scope for a far more compelling trajectory. We had wonderful insights into his outlook on life in the earlier episodes, which have since taken a noticeable backseat. We are yet to see significant exploration of Mut's struggles, flaws or weaknesses. There appears to be some focus on this in episode 10, but why so little so late?

The women are rendered superfluous. Which isn't helped when we already have a lacklustre GL portrayal. As things go awry - Kwan, Vi and Mook are varying degrees of 'just there'. I would have loved to see the plot utilise the women who know Rak best, to contribute towards bringing Jak down. But the show's priority to aid Mut's heroic efforts, means the women are left with very little to do.

Mut VS Jak. If you compare the two men, Jak is taller and in fairly good shape. Physically, you'd expect more resistance in a fight. When Jak goes down, he barely tries to get up (even when Mut's back is turned). Thus, the outcome of the fight feels unearned, especially if we are to believe this man has violent tendencies that have traumatised his children. (He may not be murderously insane, but still volatile enough to maim his own son). By being so easily overpowered, the takeaway ends up being: 'oh, we needn't have worried'. And this exchange didn't have to be strictly physical either, it could have been psychological. Jak could have taunted Mut like he did in the café, and tried to chip at his resolve. Alternatively, if Rak were the one to overcome his father (in a bid to save Mut), it would show that Rak's love can power through his fear, and he'd gain that lesson through his own agency rather than Mut telling him he should no longer be afraid. (Another symptom of this series is subjugating Rak to a huge degree of passivity).

I'm not sold on Jak's character motivations, based on what we've seen. He's not quite smart or menacing enough to be a calculated sociopath, and he's a shade too conniving for an apathetic loser. If he's as lazy as we've been told, why would he go this far to secure Prin's money, when he's already syphoning finances from Rak and his mother? Couldn't he just sit back and continue to leech with no effort? If his desperation were a result of poor spending, it would at least ground his motive. Or if he's fuelled by the thrill of tormenting his family, we'd need to see mental depravity. Instead, much of Jak's actions feel - dare I say - 'because plot'? (Make your villains more formidable and their eventual downfall will pack more punch).

The few too many plot conveniences. The sillier one being how on earth Rak left the house without anyone noticing? The enormous glass staircase which sits front and centre in an open plan property makes it near impossible to go undetected. Unless he parkoured from his bedroom?

I'm gutted because the show veers towards the more questionable choices at their disposal. The set ups are there. The ideas are there. The parameters are there. It's what they decide to do with them that sadly misfires. This has caused my investment in the story to plummet towards the latter half.

I continue to watch for Fortpeat, and I feel for them because they've worked so hard. There's some lovely acting sprinkled throughout this episode but at this late stage in the series, the plot should be driving things home. Whereas the metaphorical tide keeps moving those goal posts in and out of sight. I hope they can at least round things off on a high note next week.

[madara-fate]

I know you're against the notion of sexist writing in Naruto, but I ought to disagree. The problem isn't that female characters have love interests or are driven by those feelings but that leading roles have that theme way too often and especially how little female characters have to do in the story. They don't drive the story but rather get shoved around, when they do something "major" (seemingly) it's to highlight Naruto - see Hinata vs Pain or Sakura "vs" Sasuke, getting saved by Kakashi, then Naruto as if it wouldn't be absurdly repetitive at that point. This is where the annoyance with the female characters stem from, it's almost comical how little room to develop and individuality they get. Ironically, as much as Sakura is hated on for these things (and quite frankly, many asspulls like mischaracterization of her personality), she's the character that at least has a saving point, which is her aspiration to become stronger and actually doing it. What was missing were more major fights to highlight that. Sure, we have in-verse explanations for why she doesn't fight in the front, she's a medical ninja but those decisions are made by a writer, after all and those rules don't have to exist or can be broken in favor of her having agency in the story.

This is the central part of any good character: agency. We want to see characters make decisions and act upon it. Basically precisely what Sakura did when she decided to lie to Naruto and kill Sasuke herself, I love the idea but the execution is terrible because it ended up circling back to Kakashi and Naruto.

A lack of agency is usually part of a characters struggles, you can see it in villain oirgins and underdog stories, "zero to hero", all that. Sounds familiar? This is the premise of Sakura's character but by not showing how she overcame that through involving her more, it flies over peoples heads that yes, Sakura was a character who didn't have agency and she wanted to change that (except, during important scenes, Kishimoto didn't pull through). I think Sakura is actually the best female character in Naruto due to that premise, however due to Kishimoto sidelining that and not doing the same for any other female character - aside from Tsunade in her introduction (she's the 2nd best female character in my opinion, btw) - his female characters are pale in comaprison to the male counterpoints and people are 100% justified for being frustrated about it. Because revolving the female characters around their love interests is one thing, stripping them of agency to change anything in the plot is another.

I don't hate the characters for it however, I dislike Kishimoto's writing in this aspect and I as an aspired writer take his female characters execution as an example on how not to do it.

This is a great video on Arcane's female characters that I think explains pretty well how agency is integral for good character writing:

https://youtu.be/hML-FGHGEN4

I recommend watching it if you're interested :)

I hope I could explain where the "sexism" claims stem from and why people are frustrated about Kishimoto's writing of female characters. Have a great day!

The problem isn't that female characters have love interests or are driven by those feelings but that leading roles have that theme way too often and especially how little female characters have to do in the story.

Sakura is literally the only leading female character in the story, so to say that the problem is how often this is the case, when there is only one leading female, doesn't really make sense. As for how little female characters have to do in the story, that is a numbers issue, not a female importance issue, which I'll elaborate on later. Because by this logic, I can very easily levy the same criticism towards every male character in the series not named Naruto or Sasuke.

They don't drive the story but rather get shoved around, when they do something "major" (seemingly) it's to highlight Naruto - see Hinata vs Pain or Sakura "vs" Sasuke, getting saved by Kakashi, then Naruto as if it wouldn't be absurdly repetitive at that point.

Only Naruto and Sasuke drive the story. That's why I've always stated that this is not a female character issue, its not an issue of the female characters not having enough panel time, it's that Naruto and Sasuke simply have too much of it. The vast majority of the male characters suffer from exactly the same thing.

The fact that you felt the need to put major in quotation marks, and then add (seemingly) already shows me that you're really trying to downplay everything significant that the female characters have done in the series in order to serve your argument, but why though? Why actively try to downplay the accomplishments and feats of the female characters? To me, that alone is far more sexist or misogynist than anything Kishi has done or shown in the series.

Sakura had major feats which had nothing to do with Naruto, such as saving multiple characters' lives, defeating Sasori alongside Chiyo, unlocking the Byakugou Seal etc. Tsunade had feats which had nothing to do with Naruto, such as her performances against Orochimaru, becoming Hokage, her role in the War etc. Temari's significant involvements, such as saving Shikamaru from Tayuya and then subsequently defeating the latter with ease, had nothing to do with Naruto etc. I can continue listing when female characters have done significant things, which had nothing to do with Naruto, so I do not get this point.

This is where the annoyance with the female characters stem from, it's almost comical how little room to develop and individuality they get.

Again, if you are unable to acknowledge the growth and development that the important female characters experienced, then that is on you, not Kishi. Sakura went from being an ordinary fangirl who cowered in the face of adversity, to being a compassionate person who is the strongest kunoichi in the world on paper. Hinata went from being a shy, stuttering bundle of nerves, to a confident kunoichi who's will can move mountains. Tsunade went from being a pessimistic gambler to a hugely respected leader, mentor and role model etc.

Sure, there are some female characters who experienced little development, but there are just as many, if not more male characters whom that criticism also applies to. I mean, what great development did Kiba receive? Or Shino? Or Kankuro? Even someone as beloved as Rock Lee, is essentially the same person at the end of the series that he was at the beginning.

Ironically, as much as Sakura is hated on for these things (and quite frankly, many asspulls like mischaracterization of her personality), she's the character that at least has a saving point, which is her aspiration to become stronger and actually doing it. What was missing were more major fights to highlight that.

On that, we definitely agree.

This is the central part of any good character: agency. We want to see characters make decisions and act upon it. Basically precisely what Sakura did when she decided to lie to Naruto and kill Sasuke herself, I love the idea but the execution is terrible because it ended up circling back to Kakashi and Naruto.

Okay, so because you don't like the execution of one instance in which Sakura demonstrated her agency, does it mean that the execution of her agency in general is poor? What about all of the other examples?

A lack of agency is usually part of a characters struggles, you can see it in villain oirgins and underdog stories, "zero to hero", all that. Sounds familiar? This is the premise of Sakura's character but by not showing how she overcame that through involving her more, it flies over peoples heads that yes, Sakura was a character who didn't have agency and she wanted to change that (except, during important scenes, Kishimoto didn't pull through).

I'm going to reiterate this point - If people honestly cannot see how Sakura experienced her own "zero to hero" like development (something that I went into a lot of detail on during this post for example), then that is on them, not Kishi. As far as I'm concerned, her development in a multitude of ways, was exceedingly clear. Because contrary to popular belief, Sakura had more focus and development than 99% of the male cast, surpassed only by Naruto and Sasuke themselves, and rivalled by Kakashi.

I think Sakura is actually the best female character in Naruto due to that premise, however due to Kishimoto sidelining that and not doing the same for any other female character - aside from Tsunade in her introduction (she's the 2nd best female character in my opinion, btw) - his female characters are pale in comaprison to the male counterpoints and people are 100% justified for being frustrated about it.

So let's exclude Naruto and Sasuke for a moment, because I've made my criticisms of their general over importance in the story very clear. Tell me, in the context of development and importance to the story, how exactly do the female characters pale in comparison to their male counterparts? Because relative to the number of female characters in comparison to the males, their importance in the story is near indistinguishable.

A quick overview of several of the teams to illustrate my point.

In Team Gai, Neji had the most development and significance, Lee was in the middle, and Tenten was last, fair enough.

In Team 10, Shikamaru had the most development, Ino was in the middle, and Chouji was last.

In Team 8, Hinata had far more significance than Kiba and Shino combined.

For the Sand siblings, Gaara had the most development, Temari was in the middle, and Kankuro was last.

For the Rain orphans, Nagato had the most development, Konan was in the middle, and Yahiko was last.

For Team Taka (excluding Sasuke), Karin had far more development and significance than Suigetsu and Jugo.

So you see, generally speaking, the female characters were given roughly the same amount of focus and development, but because there are noticeably more male characters, it gives the false impression that more focus was given to them. But when you consider the numbers, it's evident that this is not the case.

Because revolving the female characters around their love interests is one thing, stripping them of agency to change anything in the plot is another.

The lives of the female characters did not revolve around their love interests, and they were not stripped of their agency either. Plenty of them had several instances when they changed things in the plot or did something major, so that's just you downplaying what they accomplished, and they were not any less likely to do something major than their male counterparts outside of Naruto and Sasuke.

Sorry but my stance is rather firm on this. I hope you have a great day too, but we'll have to agree to disagree on this.

[alientater]

I have so much to say about s3 of bridgerton so I’m dumping it all into one post. Take my dumbass opinions as a writer for what you will 😂

- first foremost thank you my QUEEN Nicola for your confidence and courage (I am no better than a man 👀). I feel like this whole season was a reminder for me, through both Pen and Colin that bodies that look like my own (Pens) deserve love. I can’t even begin to tell yall how much watching people swoon over her body specifically has made me 🥹 blush because my own looks so much like hers.

- I absolutely adored how devoted Colin was to Pen. Watching him realize his love for her in all her forms, with all her flaws was absolutely adorable and wonderful and beautiful, and it, in its own way, comforted me that the more masculine side of my self can be the romantic, the devoted, the loving person that I am as well. Both his little speech in the carriage and his love confession at the end are now living rent free in my brain.

- I know many people think they should have cut some of Benedict’s scenes but I’m against that opinion. I ADORED his character development this season, and I think it served well as a break in the tension of the plot. you will NEVER catch me unhappy to see a bisexual king living his best and horniest life.

- I’m so glad Pen got to keep her Column. The books end with Colin revealing her identity and I’m so glad they changed that. So much from the book was changed to give her more agency and I’m so so so happy about that.

- Genuinely, I’m so excited to see what happens in Scotland with Francesca and Eloise and Michaela and John!! I have a suspicion they’re going to make it another spinoff show like Queen Charlotte, and then we’ll get Benedict’s season (which 👀💕 I have no clue what they’ll do with it but WHATEVER it is I will be parked in front of that TV the SECOND it drops). Whatever it is they have planned I have a sneaking suspicion we’re finally going to get some sapphic romance 👀 so.

- I absolutely cannot stand the hate this season is getting online. I really think it was well done, and I enjoyed every second of it.

- I do wish they’d shown a *few* more spicy Polin scenes (or maybe made the end one a bit longer bc HOOOO boy 👀 I needed about another full 5-10 minutes of her riding him lord GOD almighty I need a glass of WATER). BUT they really didn’t get any more spice than Kate and Anthony did last season (in fact they had quite a bit more I’d say), and I know we’ll see more of it next season hehe 😈 so 😏.

- John dying is literally actually physically going to break my heart when we get to Francesca’s storyline. ALSO I think I really…. I want her to fall in love with him wholly and completely too. I think she has in some ways. I hope in her story, they explore the very real love between them, mostly because I adore his beautiful lil autistic ass.

- I really wish they’d brought back Daphne and the duke a bit more to help violet and Fran a bit. I think Daphne specifically would have really helped soothe that relationship.

- can we get an Eloise Benedict swing scene every season?? Plz? For me? I adore their queer sibling bond so so so much.

- I’m so glad Pen and Eloise are on good terms again. Their friendship breaking just really…

- also, on Eloise, I adore the character growth I saw her go through this season. I think she’s really learning how to see and love the people around her for who they are and it’s so beautiful. I think people were right about her self absorption to a certain degree but… every character has flaws. No one is really infallible. And I think I went through a similar growth, learning how to check and weild my priveledge, and it’s comforting to know I’m not alone in some of the mistakes I made

- I have so many feelings about Cressida Cowper. I know she’s a bully, and I disliked her originally, but something about this season made me…. Sort of like her. First of all, she’s so cunty and I absolutely LOVE that for her. Her outfits are 😮‍💨 every single time. The SLEEVES on those dresses. Like. I really hope she has character growth of her own. Also. You can’t convince me that woman isn’t a femme lesbian. I want to see her set up a nice little estate and live happily ever after with a woman she loves, honestly. I feel like it was really realistic and fascinating to see her schism with her family. I hope she doesn’t take her mother’s advice to heart. That she breaks the generational curse and learns to be both kind AND cunty 😂. I hope Eloise and her make up somewhat too. I just. I don’t want her to be the villain. The pressures of society are their own villain.

- Bring back Edwina Sharma and her Prince can we start a FUCKING petition bro.

- two people in on that show that no matter what they are being paid, are not being paid enough 1) the COSTUME designer and 2) the intimacy coordinator. Every five seconds I found myself saying “god that dress” or “oh man, I need that waistcoat”

- I love that the writers chose to make the featherington sisters more than just… jokes? Philippa especially. She really had some of the best breakout lines of the season “insert himself where” GIRL “Farley, now! the bugs!!” SHES SO CUTE and Mr Finch baby boy so are you and your love for her 🥹 it’s just so wholesome. I love that Shonda really has showed through this show that even with our eccentricities, we all deserve to be loved, appreciated, cherished.

- we stand by Portia featherington. She really made the best of some SHITTY as situations, and we love her for that. It’s so important to me that she’s not the villain either. That she and pen worked things through, learned how to support each other, and that Portia apologized. I think she’s definitely…. Let’s say morally gray but how morally grey really is robbing the aristocracy? 🤫. I honestly? Kind of hope she finds a love match, or finds happiness in her singleness without having to rely on a man. That she learns to live in her power.

- Did I mention how devoted Colin is to Pen? Can we return to that? My FAVORITE moments of this season were the ones where he is so absolutely down bad for her that he can barely speak bc ME TOO baby boy. ME TOO. and that it’s pen. This season was for the girlies who never get noticed, who never had boys crush on them. Who have to make do living vicariously through others, who have to learn to love themselves, because the world does not seem to.

- can we bring back lord debbling? Lowkey…. I kinda liked him. I need him to be Cressida’s beard for real 🤫

- the mirror scene THE MIRROR SCENE 🫠😮‍💨😰🤤 I…. I have so many feelings. I keep hearing people being like “it was so cringe” but? I think I loved it because it felt so…. Realistic? I found myself loving it because it was so… slow and sweet and intentional and it was in every way an extension of Colin’s feelings for pen. He loves her enough that he treats her with only the most kind, most slow and soft touches. He considers her pleasure before his own (which, god is that dreamy I wanna be this man SO BAD). He talks her through. he appreciates in every way she SHOULD be appreciated. I’m just. I’m never going to be over how fantastically luke played him. How fantastic Luke and Nicola’s chemistry was. Can we appreciate the shots angles looking down on Penelope too bc oh man. Oh boy. Jesus Christ she would be walking ME like a dog to if she looked at me like that Holy Fuck. Also the THIGHS the TITTIES (👀 respectfully 👀 RESPECTFULLY). The little sneaky views of Colin’s butt hehe, the way Pen GULPS when she sees Colin (girl SAME). It reminded me so vividly of my own first time. it made me miss being that young and… idk. I feel like sex scenes often feel fake or unrealistic and the ones in this just felt SO real.

- on that topic can we all just appreciate how much Kate sharma is getting her cookie ate bc 😂 lord only knows she deserves it. ALSO. Petition for next season: I ABSOLUTELY need to see Colin on his knees doing the same for Pen 🤤👀 bc you KNow that man is a service top, and she deserves it.

- genuinely genuinely. I’m so afraid of the show now getting canceled because it has openly queer characters 🥺. I’ve fallen in love with it and it’s like there’s this dread, in the pit of my stomach, that it’s all going to end prematurely because people are already acting so shitty.

- I need violet to have her own spinoff with Marcus 👀 and CONTROVERSIAL OPINION (not controversial) I need their sex scenes bc 😳 LORD . I am not. ahem. I am sinning looking at lady bridgerton like this 😂

- I loved lady Danbury and pens exchange at the end of the season and they’re great friends in the books! I hope it develops more!

- how does Jonathan Bailey so convincingly play a man utterly in love/ lust with his wife as a gay man 😂. Also. Anthony’s little “LILACS”? Still thinking about that lol.

- I’m so glad Eloise didn’t tell Colin about pen being whistledown.

- really wish we’d had a wedding night sex scene 😅

- pen wearing a full set of acrylics and riding that man’s dick is….. god. I have been given a gift.

- Need Need NEED more of the Mondriches, just being happy and finding their place. Their ball this season was fucking fantastic.

- the end camera shot of Colin and pen kissing in front of the window she always watched him from 🫠🥹💕 I’m actually sick it’s SO PERFECT

- I knew Penelope was going to have the only boy 👀😏 called it hehe

- I think one of the things I love most about the show is just… seeing women support and uplift each other and work through things. Talk about the hard things. That’s how we grow as people.

In conclusion, I know many people disliked a lot of things about s3 but I, personally, adored it. And I also know why the writers cut what they did, and did what they did. I honestly think if they’d just added a few small things it would have been perfect. There was so much happening this season it felt overwhelming almost, and I think if I were to say if there’s anything to learn from this, it’s that they need to slow down. Focus on and give each plot its share. I wish I could give Bridgerton an infinite budget for infinite episodes to do whatever they wanted bc I know it would be good. ALSO if I have to endure a month wait like that again I’m actually fucking rioting. I liked the anticipation but it felt too long and just…. Idk. I think an episode a week would be a better way to stretch it if they wanted to keep that ploy. Anyways. If anyone’s actually read this far, I’m so sorry 😂. And to all the people griping… get a grip. It’s a beautiful show and the writing was honestly fantastic. just enjoy the media for what it is im actually begging you. If this show gets canceled because of something as trivial as not enough Polin sex scenes and having actual queer representation in fucking coming for ALL OF YOU.

Peace and light

Annika

[kohubohu]

About Minthara's break up dialogue

(TLDR at the end)

My biggest fantasy would be Larian bringing it back reworked in patch 7 because it actively gave her the best reaction to rejecting Bhaal out of the entire party and it's such a good moment to give her more character development.

Tbh, I was never really mad at the dialogue existing in itself. It's just that it felt poorly executed and very incomplete, and it's annoying to think that they just removed it (it was bugged anyway, but you know), when there are multiple ways in which it could have been fixed, depending on if you consider the break up out of character or not.

Take 1: Her reason for breaking up is not OOC.

It's less that I'm mad about the dialogue itself, and more that I'm mad that you, as the player, are forced to stay kinda silent and powerless about it.

You know, I personally see rejecting Bhaal as a matter of regaining agency over your own person and your destiny rather than choosing the "good" path. My durge personally isn't good, and she'd still reject Bhaal to get her freedom back. When you think about it, it should resonate with Minthara due to her backstory with Lolth and the Absolute, but you know, we're all at risk of being hypocritical sometimes, especially in high pressure situation like these, so I don't necessarily see her reaction as being automatically OOC.

But if Larian were/are 100% set on going down that path for her, please at least give the player choices other than downplaying her anger or begging her to stay with you.

Downplaying her anger just feels shitty to me. She's absolutely right about being angry over the situation (for multiple reasons I'll explain in the alternative take). I've seen a few people commenting on my video about the break up on how she should be relieved instead of angry, and like... it's not a Karlach situation, you got resuscitated in front of her eyes by Withers. She would at least be fucking mad at you for doing that whole stunt lol.

Alternatively, begging her to stay with you just doesn't sit right with me. Like, idk, if my SO got mad and broke up with me for wanting to be free from a parent's toxic influence and control over the vague promise of maybe earning something from them but probably not, I'd 100% not want to be with them anymore lol.

Let's not even take her hypocrisy into account, it's not as if something bad would have happened to her if you rejected Bhaal (whereas accepting Bhaal just makes her a convenient breeding machine in his plan, and just sets her up into another abusive relationship where she's always at risk of being discarded anyway) (and you really don't want my opinion on that)

Her anger, when laid out and explained that way, just gives me the impression Durge is getting used to gain status and power, which is even worse considering you get her alurlssrin dialogue 10-15 minutes before the break up, which in turn kinda goes against the fact that her devotion/tenderness/love is a good chunk of her character development and cheapens literally everything surrounding her romance. It basically goes back to "minthara is a drow and therefore evil" and just goes back to unidimensional evil woman concept.

But you know, if they really wanted to punish you for rejecting Bhaal, the least they could do is to let the player call her out on that, or give them the opportunity to say the break up is mutual because what she just said is pretty fucking shitty, especially coming from her. Like, I personally wouldn't want to be with someone who want me to stay stuck in a toxic relationship, and being forced to make that choice is infuriating.

Take 2: Her reason for breaking up is OOC.

Or more accurately, there is more to the dialogue/situation than meets the eyes but Larian just kinda started something without finishing it.

Lots of people consider the dialogue as being OOC because she keeps touting Durge as being the heir of such a powerful god and is mad over the fact that they gave up the power Bhaal promised them, when she is vocally critical about gods and cults many times over the course of the game.

She clearly hates Lolth and the Absolute, calls Lolth's and Bhaal's followers victims. She disapproves of you praying to any god in act 3 (especially Lolth, which gives you -5 approval instead of -1) and will criticize you/your worship if you're a cleric. She encourages Gale to free himself of Mystra (or go against her orders) and assures him he doesn't need her, that gods need you to think you need them, just like the absolute. She says that Shadowheart freeing herself of Shar's influence is at least a bit of comfort after killing her parents, and encourages Shadowheart to get vengeance from Shar when she learns the truth from Aylin. She's outright ectastic when defeating Gortash, because they're "defying divinity" by killing the gods' chosen, and seems kinda, idk, smug? over the fact that so many gods seek the one thing they are in possession of.

However, there are a few moments (other than rejecting Bhaal) where she'll be pissed at you for going against the gods. She chastises Lae'zel if she rejects Vlaakith and calls it a "childish rebellion", and approves of her if she kills Voss instead, because she should know better than to anger a god. She criticize the player/the party (if you play as Shadowheart) for holding Shadowheart back from her destiny directly after sparing Aylin, and will tell Shadowheart that Shar was right for punishing her for it. That's basically the closest equivalent we have to Durge rejecting Bhaal. So like.... It could be because of power after all...?

But when you look into it: Minthara doesn't even hold it that hard against you when Shadowheart gives up power, hell, in every case she never even holds it against Shadowheart at all, going as far as blaming herself for holding Shadowheart back, when playing as her origin. And she just let go of the matter after Shadowheart learns the truth from Aylin, and switches to advising her to seek vengeance.

With the exception of Durge's and Shart's situation, it really boils down to really not wanting to be on some god's bad side. Why would Lae'zel want to screw up their plan when she could just.... shut up and follow the rules? Better tip-toeing around all powerful beings than pissing them off because you heard a *maybe* very real rumor about them.

And that's the thing about Minthara: we're talking about a character who just started their religious deconversion, after spending their whole life, not only as a member, but as a high ranking figure of the cult. And considering Lolth is very real in the setting and is very proactive when it comes to testing and punishing her followers, it's only natural for Minthara to still default to trying not piss off a god. She literally spent 200+ years with no choice BUT to hold herself to Lolth's standard, dedicating her whole being to her, while having to witness other people being punished for crossing Lolth more than a few times. Deconverting is already a hard thing to do, taking years, if not decades, but when you live in a world were divine retribution is a very real thing, I assume it's an even harder thing to do.

You can even add more layers to the situation, or like, go for different interpretations, cause you didn't just piss off a god and gave up the power and status that he promised (even if the bargain is shit and won't end well and will doom everyone, like Minthara isn't planning that far ahead, and she's still convinced it's just something you can just... take control of if you make the effort lol). Add to that the stress of facing Orin and dealing against a big ass cult. The fact that you're romancing her, like, girly already had to kill her first girlfriend against her will, this time she's not even the cause of it but she still can't even do anything against it, and that death looks real fucking painful and she can't even try to make Durge feel better by whispering words of comfort or anything, and she's surrounded by other people, and idk, due to how things are in Menzoberranzan, I don't think she'd let herself be sad in the moment anyway, no matter how deep it cuts. Also, you know, she seems to be pretty preoccupied about her death and mortality in general (due to the fact that her soul will either go back to Lolth, or end up wandering in the fugue plane, I assume), so seeing you not only escape death that easily, but being resuscitated by a fucking god, when she's pretty sure no gods would extend the same grace to her, would probably be pretty upsetting. I know I'd be seething lol

So, to me, having her blowing a fuse because of any of those things would make the whole scolding feel a lot less hard to swallow without dumbing her character down? Hell, even in that case she would still yell at you about how you turned down power. Girly wouldn't let herself be that vulnerable in front of the whole party, so of course she'd blow up over the shallowest reason. You could literally have a follow up dialogue, explaining her reaction and resolving the whole situation. Larian gets to keep the first dialogue, Minthara gets to have character development, and you get more Minthara content and balm for the scolding you got as the player.

TLDR

It's less that it's OOC, and more that the dialogue feels like the start of an unfinished idea.

Minthara is the representation of an emotionally constipated boomer dad who just randomly drops traumatizing lore about themselves while trying to make a joke without even realizing what they went through was trauma. Of course it's gonna sound like angry hot garbage when she's trying to explain herself the first time. Let her think about it for a while and she'll get back to you.

Literally, due to her personal backstory and ongoing deconversion, it wouldn't be that far fetched to say that you telling Bhaal (a god) to go fuck himself (which makes him real angry) because you (his child) don't want to become his chosen (with the powers that comes with it), even if he's the only reason you've been born and becoming his chosen was basically the plan from the start (so it's basically your life's duty), which results in you (Minthara's only person of trust and SO) dying a pretty painful death (it's not the first time she's had to see a lover dying in front of her) just after having killed orin (the whole ordeal being very stressful to Minthara), before being resuscitated (look at you, you're putting her on the worst emotional rollercoaster of her life right now) by Withers (a god, basically) like it was nothing (when no gods would come to her help), would get her at least a little bit angry.

But since there's no follow up on it, it just... sours an event that could lead to great character development if it had been completed and fully implemented.

[multiplicity-positivity]

I'm a fictive who really misses it's sourcemates... Have any advice for that by any chance?

Oof, I’ve definitely been there (Ralsei fictive here!) >_<

I really think I’m in a better place these days, and I owe it a lot to this stuff!

Mourning and grief! For a while I treated my lost sourcemates like lost friends who I’d likely never see again. It was really tough, but grief is a thing our system is unfortunately kinda used to by now >_< At the encouragement of my parts, therapist, and partner sys, I just gave myself time to mourn. Time to front and reminisce and cry and just be sad about it for a while. I really missed my friends, and I still do today! >_< We made a lot of memories together and a big part of who I am today I owe to them. I have my own little sketchbook/journal, and I wrote a lot about them, pressed flowers for them, and just let myself process my feelings. If I hadn’t ever been given the space to mourn properly, I’d still probably have a lot of pain in me that I wouldn’t know how to deal with or let go of! >_<

Also a liiiiittle bit of source separation! I’m still Ralsei, I still identify and connect with my source! I haven’t changed my name or appearance or anything like that. But I did have to detach myself from my source a bit in order to start feeling better about losing my sourcemates. For me, this meant just realizing that I am my own person, outside of my source! I am real and I exist, whereas my source and my sourcemates are just characters who are a part of someone else’s created world. I get to have agency and grow, develop, and make my own decisions. My source doesn’t get that - he’s just a character in a video game! For me, this helped a lot, because while my source memories still affect me and inform my life, the fact that I’m not literally my source makes it easier for me to give those memories less weight and instead focus on making connections in the real world, today! :33

My part (and buddy!) Cecil made a post on source separation, which we’ll include in case it might help ya!

And in the end, what helped best for me is time, space, and support from my system and loved ones! And I hope that you can find this to help you better deal with missing your sourcemates, too! We may never stop missing our sourcemates, and the memories might always remain, but the pain will get lighter in time! >w<

[nattawinlove-andmygaytea]

Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat And Tul Pakorn Thanasrivanitchai On Love, Travel, Upcoming Projects And More

Together, the Thai stars are rewriting the rules of being a leading man in film and television all while venturing into new territories, pursuing passion projects and living their lives unapologetically.

Forget everything you think you know about being a leading man. Thai actors, Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat and Tul Pakorn “Tyler” Thanasrivanitchai, are redefining what it means to be a household name after starring in Thai boys’ love (BL) dramas.

Unlike the uninhibited and daring characters he sometimes plays on screen, Mew comes across as a reserved, soft-spoken yet confident gentleman in person. On set, he’s polite, charming and eager for feedback despite possessing a wellspring of experience in the entertainment industry. “Are my poses okay? Do I need to do anything differently?” he earnestly asks Kenneth Goh, our editor-in-chief who was art directing the shoot in Bangkok, Thailand.

Mew’s rise to fame was gradual. The 32-year-old earned his stripes as a model before getting his first big break as an actor when he was cast as Pree in the Thai BL drama What The Duck: The Series (2018). The show was an instant hit in Thailand, and was brought back for a second season. But it wasn’t until his role in TharnType: The Series, where he played Tharn, a gay man who falls in love with his homophobic roommate (played by Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong) in university, that his star rose dramatically.

Mew is also a gifted musician. His debut album 365 ranked number three on the worldwide iTunes album chart, and was number one in 18 countries. He also became the first Thai artiste to debut an album that reached the 13th spot on iTunes’ Global Digital Artist Ranking list. He has since struck out on his own with Mew Suppasit Studio, through which he releases new music.

His success as an actor and recording artist hasn’t gone unnoticed. He caught the eye of luxury fashion brands such as Maison Valentino, Tod’s and BOSS, resulting in coveted partnerships and front row seats at Milan fashion week.

In contrast, Tul exhibits golden retriever energy. Charming and enthusiastic in the flesh, he is the polar opposite of Mew on set. Tul is playful and adventurous, taking initiative on how to better bring the concept of the shoot to life. “It might be better if I stood behind Mew for this shot so we’re both facing the camera,” he thoughtfully suggests. His energy is infectious and he’s not afraid to do whatever it takes to get the best photo. On set, they are drawn to each other, playfully tugging at each other’s clothes, while warm embraces and encouraging shoulder rubs signal a close bond. After lunch, the laughs grew louder, the boyish repartee naughtier and the hugs tighter. Clearly, Mew and Tul have a special affinity with each other.

Like his contemporary, Tul’s first foray into the entertainment industry was through modelling. “I was a drum major during the Chula–Thammasat Traditional Football match back in 2011, and I was scouted by a modelling agency,” he recalls. “I was later spotted modelling during a fashion show by a casting director and was asked to go on an audition. I started acting in my third year in university, accepting one production a year.”

The casting director’s eye for talent proved to be on the money—the 31-year-old shot to fame, thanks to the success of Together With Me (2018), where he played Knock, a sexually-confused university student who ends up falling in love with his gay childhood best friend. With his newfound popularity, opportunities within the fashion industry opened up for Tul as well.

Another similarity between the two men is their dedication to academic excellence. Mew has a master’s degree in Engineering from Chulalongkorn University, while Tul just graduated from Columbia University with an MSc in Real Estate Development and worked as an acquisition intern at Cycamore Capital in New York City.

Mew and Tul are testament to the modern idea that there’s no one way to reach the pinnacle of success, and that there’s always room for personal and professional enrichment and time for passion projects. We sat both of them down for an intimate tête-à-tête on style, travel, upcoming projects, their goals for the new year and more.

ON FASHION

Tul: How would you describe your style?

Mew: It depends. I love to mix and match. I have different types of tops that I’d mix with different bottoms, shoes and accessories.

T: Your wardrobe is huge (laughs)!

M: What about you?

T: In Thailand, anything lightweight. I’m very sensitive to the heat. I’m still experimenting with my style, but I love Korean fashion. I think the cutting is more flattering for us Asians and it’s more sophisticated. I like something minimal with details that is easy to mix and match with what you already have. For Thai fashion, I like Greyhound.

M: Handbags! You have so many bags!

T: Shoulder bags and crossbody bags. Well, the thing is, I don’t feel like dressing up much while in Thailand. So I play with bags instead.

M: I bought him a new bag last year and I only saw him use it once. You know the problem isn’t about how often he uses it. The problem is, he was whining a lot when he wanted it. But when I bought it for him, he rarely used it.

T: I used it many times! Around five times.

M: In the entire year!

T: When I want him to buy me something, I’ll send him a picture saying, ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

ON FOOD AND TRAVEL

M: Any restaurant recommendations?

T: I think Japanese restaurants are great. I like yakiniku and shabu shabu, but I really recommend grilled prawns.

M: Any good ones in Ayutthaya? Once I ate them on a raft and threw up. I guess I had seasickness. River prawns are very fatty and the raft was floating, so I felt terrible.

T: I would recommend Ginzado. It’s a Japanese yakiniku restaurant.

M: What’s your favourite food?

T: Asian food. I enjoy Thai, Chinese, Japanese, and Korean food.

M: You know what our new discovery is? Peruvian food! It’s very good.

T: Yes, Peruvian food! So good!

M: We ate it in Canada.

T: Peruvian food is like a mix of Latin and Japanese food.

M: The restaurant we ate at in Miami was very good too.

T: Yes. They have this dish that’s a lot like our Yum (spicy salad). I think Thai people will like it. If you don’t enjoy Mexican cuisine, you might like Peruvian.

M: Do you always plan your trips or just go with the flow?

T: I always plan.

M: Overplan, more like it! He’s the one in charge of trips, and the itinerary is always just nice—not too packed.

T: I told you I can be obsessive-compulsive. When we travel, I want the best things at the best price. It needs to be cost-efficient. When you need to be somewhere at a certain point in time—such as seeing the sunrise at a particular spot—I will do everything to make sure we get to see the sunrise. I plan everything in advance and I don’t want anyone in the group to have to pay for something unnecessarily expensive. If, at some time, business class tickets are excessively costly and premium economy is more value for money, then we should do premium economy. I’ll be attentive to everyone’s rewards and mileage to ensure they don’t need to pay extra when they can redeem miles.

M: He will have all the information on hand like, if we’re going somewhere and need to use a particular airline, we should apply for this and that in advance, so we have benefits like better seats or baggage allowance.

ON WHAT’S NEXT

T: What are your plans for this year?

M: Last year, I worked on many projects, series and movies, so you’ll see a lot of my work both on television and in cinema. I’ll be back working on music soon as well. In addition, I have a fan meet around my birthday in February, so I’m looking forward to meeting my supporters there. Among the projects that I’ve completed is Mon Rak Luk Thung, a remake of a classic Thai musical rom-com. This is my first time singing many luk thung [folk] songs.

T: I’m thinking of seriously moving away from entertainment, and focussing on my family business. I’m currently working as a project manager for our new project in Bangna. It’s a community mall with a fresh food market. In the future, I would love to work in property management. I enjoy exploring residential and housing projects. I want to do something that offers customers high-quality products and a good quality of life. This is also the reason why I pursued my postgraduate study.

M: What are your goals for 2024?

T: I want to have a sexier body. I want to have time for the gym no matter what I have going on at work. Another goal of mine is to make more use of what I’ve learned in the US in my life. I want to be working on more tangible projects.

M: I have never had a chance to use any of the things I learned during my postgraduate studies (laughs). The research I did… I’ve used none of it.

ON THEMSELVES

W: How would you describe yourself?

T: I’m a worrywart. I think too much about every little thing despite my image as a very sociable extrovert. But when I’m on my own, I’m quite obsessive-compulsive; I will tidy my rooms and fold my clothes.

M: Everyone thinks he’s easy-going and very laid-back, but in reality, he’s a worrywart. He really, really thinks about everything. He keeps worrying about others.

T: It depends. I thought I could handle social media better as I got older but sometimes, I feel like I’m not as good at it as I could be. That said, after years in showbiz, I’m better at letting go and not letting it affect me as much.

M: I’m the opposite of Tul. He’s a worrywart despite his easy-going image. I look like I’m overthinking but in reality, I’m much more laid-back.

T: Exactly (laughs)!

ON LOVE

T: What’s your favourite love quote?

M: I don’t know… I’ve never thought of it.

T: Just Google ‘love quote��� and pick one you like.

M: For real? Okay, let’s see… Top 10 Love Quotes…

T: My love quote is ‘Bitch, I say what I say.’

M: What should I choose…what about this one? It’s quite short. ‘When there is love, there is life.’