#the only criteria is you have to have read the first chapter so the name will suit his ✨️vibe✨️

[still-a-morosexual-help]

the best stories are those that start as smut and ends up being heart-wrenching and 10k longer than it was supposed to be.

I HAVE AN EXAM! If this tries to exceed the 3k word limit i'm giving up and flinging myself into the ocean

That being said I made Unnamed-Man(?)-Just-Created-to-Get-Fucked by mammon x mc so pathetically pathetic that I have no choice now but to write the gentlest vanilla sex to comfort him, that somehow manages to twist right back around to being kinky because of how weirdly soft it is

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE KINKY DEBAUCHERY WHAT HAPPENED!?!?!?

I might have to write a second chapter later just to stick to my initial plan😮‍💨

[milfsloverblog]

Hii!! I have a Larissa x reader request. Larissa is in her late forties, has a shit ton of money (cause that woman screams money) and she's also a tad lonely, so she decides to find herself a sugar baby and that's where reader comes in, they are broke, almost finishing college and in need of quick money. I really just need this woman to pamper me with money and love and good sex, lots of mommy kink and out of the bedroom dominance pretty pleeeeeaaassseeee

Secret Benefits (NSFW)

Part 1. (Next part)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Anon, I loved this request so much I’ve decided to turn it into a multiple chapter fic. We’re mostly setting the scene in this chapter, but I added a tiny bit of smut. Thanks for the request, enjoy!! <3

You didn’t feel very proud as you clicked on the “sign up” button on the app your best friend told you about. You typed in your information - Name, age, height, weight, eye and hair colour. It did feel like you were only a product to be bought but it was what you were looking for, after all.

You filled in the “looking for” section - women, preferably. You didn’t care much about height or weight or anything like that, really, although you hoped you would be able to at least find someone attractive. But you couldn’t afford to be too picky.

It did feel like signing up for a normal dating app until you reached the “monthly income” criteria. This was by far the most important criterion, the one that had led you to this website, and yet you didn’t know what to answer. You stared at your phone screen for a moment before eventually typing in “Minimum $3500”. It felt like a correct amount, enough for someone to take care of themselves and you as well.

You uploaded a few pictures, a couple of selfies and one where your whole body was visible. You probably would have more chance of quickly finding someone if you uploaded a more revealing picture, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not yet.

You took a deep breath and clicked on the button that would make your profile public, watching the message that popped up on your screen - Welcome to Secret Benefits, the number one sugar dating app in America.

Your profile had only been public for a few minutes when you received your first like and inbox message. A man saying he would pay you a thousand dollars a week and didn’t want anything in exchange, only to chat with you. Your friend had warned you about this kind of scam so you simply rolled your eyes and reported the profile.

Browsing through the app you quickly realised that most people on there were men over forty searching for a pretty thing to parade around with. You knew it was the whole point of this app and those kind of relationships, but still.

It felt like you had been scrolling for hours when a profile finally caught your eye. Larissa, 48. Her picture was what first caught your attention. The woman was half-turned from the camera, holding a glass of red wine in her hand. Her white hair was tied in an intricate updo, her lips painted with a crimson red that matched her nails and her blue eyes fixed on the camera as if she had caught the photographer in the act of taking her picture. It almost felt like she was looking right at you. She looked beautiful.

You clicked on her profile, hoping to learn more about the woman. You read her body description, eyes widening when you reached the height criteria and read that she was 6’3. She looked like the type of woman who enjoyed wearing heels and you felt dizzy at the thought of a two metres tall woman towering over you.

You noticed that she had picked “Unspecified” for the monthly income. You weren’t sure what that meant exactly. Was she wary about sharing her income? Strange, given the kind of app you were on. Or perhaps she was old money. She did look wealthy, the kind of woman who would have grown up in a rich family and inherited it all.

She had listed a few of her interests in her bio. Art, luxury fashion and haute couture, feminism. There was a single sentence written underneath, one that had your breath hitch in your throat.

“I call myself a hedonist, I seek utmost pleasure in everything I do.”

And that was enough to have you hooked. You didn’t care about the other thousands of profiles on the website anymore. You only cared about her. Larissa, her sapphire eyes and crimson lips, her hedonistic lifestyle and promise of utmost pleasure, and most importantly - her money.

You clicked on the little heart next to her profile picture, like your friend had told you to do. Now you were supposed to wait and see if the woman would like your profile in return. You could have sent a private message straight away, but your friend said it was better not to, it would make you look too desperate. I am desperate, you thought.

It was only hours later, when you were freshly out of the shower and about to get into bed, that your phone pinged and you quickly grabbed it to check the notification.

Larissa liked you back! The start of a beautiful story?

You stared at the notification for a minute, what were you supposed to do now that she had actually liked you back? You weren’t even expecting to get that far when you signed up.

You sat down in bed still wrapped in your towel and took a deep breath. How were you even supposed to engage in a conversation with a woman like her?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a while. Everything you could think of sounded lame and you even considered calling your friend for some advice but it would have just been embarrassing.

You: Hi there! I came across your profile and was very intrigued by your sophistication and the way you described yourself. How has your day been?

That wasn’t too bad. At least you hadn’t sent a cheesy pickup line.

The little “seen” quickly appeared under your message and you bit your lip in anticipation.

Larissa: Good evening! Thank you for reaching out. My day's been quite busy with work, but I'm always up for interesting conversations. How was yours?

Okay, she had answered. She had liked you back and she had answered. Great, it was great.

You: I'm glad you're taking the time to chat. My day's been mostly filled with classes and hanging out with my friends, a normal day in the life of a college student haha. What do you do for work?

Larissa: I’d rather keep my work private, at least for now. But I promise I’m not doing anything illegal! College student, what do you study?

Well, that was a bit strange, although you could see why someone wouldn’t want to share their work field on this kind of app, there was no doubt those arrangements could ruin some people’s lives.

You: Sure, no worries! I study marketing. It’s not always easy but I enjoy it for the most part. I’m really curious about what brings you to this app?

The message was read almost instantly but it took the woman a few minutes to answer. Was she hesitant? Searching for the right words?

Larissa: I appreciate your curiosity. I'm mostly looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement where we can both enjoy each other's company and experiences. What about you? What are you looking for on here?

A mutually beneficial arrangement, that was certainly one eloquent way to put it.

Larissa: I'm seeking someone who can support me as I navigate my studies. I live on my own and have a job on the side but it’s getting really hard to finance everything alone. Plus, I think having someone older in my life, someone with more experience, could only be beneficial. It’s all about benefits and enjoying the finer things, isn’t it?

Larissa: It is! I suppose it’s the main reason why so many young women are on this app. Tell me, what do you enjoy doing in your free time?

You: Well, I honestly don’t really get much free time. But I like to sit down with a nice book whenever I can. I enjoy going for walks and I could spend hours in the kitchen cooking and baking. What about you? Any favourite ways to unwind?

Larissa: I don’t get much free time either if I’m being honest. I’m a busy woman. I do enjoy sitting by the fireplace with a book and a glass of red, one of life’s simple pleasures. I love exploring art galleries, trying out new restaurants and I sometimes, although very rarely, indulge in spa retreats.

Spa retreats? These things cost a fortune! You were lucky if you could indulge yourself in a night out with your friends!

The two of you kept exchanging for a while. You learnt that Larissa was British, that she had moved over here for her studies. She loved travelling, had been to many places around Europe and was a big fan of French cuisine. She felt like the kind of woman you could listen to for hours without ever getting bored.

It was getting late, your eyes were practically closing themselves and you knew you would be absolutely exhausted in the morning, but you didn’t want the conversation to end.

You had been talking for nearly two hours when the woman asked if you had ever dined at Ambrosia, a restaurant way out of the centre of Jericho. You snorted loudly as you searched the restaurant on Google and realised it was a gastronomic one. Did she really think you could afford that kind of place?

You: No, I’ve never been there. But I’ve just googled it and it looks like a nice place!

Larissa: It’s my favourite restaurant in Jericho, I think I must have tried everything on the menu by now. Would you like to join me there for dinner, let’s say on Saturday night?

Saturday night? You quickly checked your schedule, you were working at the bar that day.

You: I would love to, I really would love to, but I’m working that day and I can’t miss a shift…

Larissa: If it’s about the money, you don’t need to worry. Call your work tomorrow, let them know they will need to find someone to fill in for you on Saturday.

You swallowed thickly. What if this was some joke? What if you showed up at the restaurant and she wasn’t there? You would miss your shift, and lose money for nothing. But if she did show up…

You: Fine, I’ll call in the morning. What time should we meet at the restaurant?

Larissa: 6.30 pm? If you give me your address I will have a car sent for you. However, I understand if you feel wary about giving that kind of information to a stranger.

You did feel more than wary about giving her your address. For all you knew it could be some creep hiding behind that profile. But if you didn’t take the leap, you might miss a great opportunity. So you did it, you sent Larissa your address and thanked her for wanting to send a car.

Larissa: Thank you, darling. The car will pick you up at 6. I should probably let you get to bed now, I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep during one of your classes. Thank you again for reaching out, it’s refreshing to connect with you.

You: Thank you, Larissa. Likewise, I enjoyed our conversation. See you on Saturday!

You closed the app and took a deep breath. You were insane, absolutely deranged. Who in their right mind would agree to something like this so quickly? You groaned and pulled the duvet over your head. You’d think about this later, all you wanted at that moment was to sleep.

-

Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough. Your friend had asked you if you’d had any luck on the app yet and you lied, telling her that no one seemed interested in you yet. Maybe you would tell her about your meeting with Rissa once it’d be done. Maybe.

You had exchanged a few more messages with Larissa the next day, just to keep in touch and let her know that you were looking forward to meeting her, and so was she.

The doorbell of your flat ringing woke you up early on Saturday morning. You quickly threw on some pyjamas and went to open, your eyebrows shooting up when the courier handed you a big cardboard box.

“What the hell?” You whispered to yourself as you placed the box down on your coffee table.

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and carefully cut the tape, holding your breath as you opened the box. There was a small note on top of something wrapped in gold tissue paper.

I picked you an outfit for tonight, I had to guess your size using your pictures but I’m pretty certain it will fit. I suggest wearing a pair of black heels with it. See you tonight, darling.

-Larissa

You had to read the notes a few times to make sure you weren’t just making things up. She had picked you an outfit, really? Did she think you couldn’t dress up on your own? Well, to be fair you weren’t sure you had anything chic enough in your wardrobe, but still.

You carefully opened the tissue paper and your breath hitched as you unfolded the black slip dress that she had picked for you. The silk fabric felt incredibly soft under your fingertips and the lace trim on the neckline was beautiful.

“Simone Rocha.” You read the tag out loud. The name did ring a bell somewhere in your mind, was that a designer dress? Well, at least now you knew the woman was serious about taking you out for dinner tonight.

You were about to close the box when you noticed there was something else in there. You picked it up, eyes growing wide at the sight of a burgundy thong. It was beautiful. Made out of lace and embroidered with floral details, it probably cost more than your whole underwear drawer.

You bit your lip looking at the two items of clothing in your hands. Maybe you could get used to this lifestyle.

-

The car sent by Larissa arrived at your place at 6 pm sharp. You quickly put on your heels, fixed your lipstick, and took a last look at yourself in the mirror. The dress fitted you like a glove and you had rarely felt that beautiful in a piece of clothing, you looked expensive.

Hundreds of thoughts were rushing through your brain as you sat in the back of the car and absentmindedly looked outside the window.

And suddenly it hit you - would Larissa be expecting sex from you? Your eyes widened at the possibility. You had not talked about this. Sure, the woman had said she wanted someone to spend time with, but spending time with someone could mean a lot of things!

You were almost thinking about changing your mind and going home when the car pulled over and the driver let you know that you’d reached your destination. You took a look at the building outside and swallowed thickly. There was no going back now.

You thanked the driver and stepped outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. You were halfway to the restaurant door when you heard your name being called, causing you to spin on your heels.

“Larissa?” You asked as your eyes landed on the woman walking towards you. She looked just like her picture - tall, elegant, beautiful.

“Yes!” She smiled and nodded.

Noticing that she looked you up and down, you allowed yourself to do the same. She was wearing an emerald fitted dress that perfectly hugged her waist and hips. Her legs had to be the longest you’d ever seen, they seemed to go on and on until you finally reached the silver heels that were on her feet.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled back, feeling a bit awkward and not knowing what to say.

“Likewise.” Larissa answered and pulled the door open to let you in, her hand falling on the small of your back as she followed you inside.

Everything inside the restaurant reeked of wealth. The high ceiling, the polished wood floor and the leather seats. You were out of place and you felt like everyone around you knew it.

“Miss Weems, good evening!” A waiter flashed the woman a bright smile. “Your usual table?”

“Good evening, Adam. Yes please, the usual.” Larissa nodded and her hand on the small of your back gently pushed you, signalling for you to follow the waiter.

You sat down at the table and could immediately tell why it was Larissa’s favourite table. It was at the back of the restaurant, in a quieter space, and it had a perfect view of all the other tables.

The waiter brought the menu almost immediately and made a few suggestions as he poured two glasses of water. You could feel the older woman staring at you as you opened the menu and flipped through the pages. Everything was expensive, a whole three-course meal in this place would cost as much as your biweekly grocery budget. It was insane.

“Anything tempting you?” Larissa smirked, a strange glint in her eye.

“Um…Yes, yes there is a few things that sound really good.” You nodded and pushed an awkward smile.

“The dress suits you perfectly. You picked the perfect shoes to go with it.”

A blush crept up your cheeks hearing the compliments and you pushed out a shy “thank you”.

“Are you wearing everything that I picked?” Larissa asked, her head slightly tilting to the side.

Her eyes briefly dropped to your chest - no bra, that was the right choice for this kind of dress. Larissa was pleasantly surprised. She had purposefully chosen not to include a bra in the package but she wasn’t sure if you’d wear one of your own.

“Yes,” Your cheeks turned a deep red, not far from the colour of the thong you were wearing. “I’m wearing everything you picked. Thank you, by the way, I loved your selection.”

Larissa’s nostrils flared and she let out a satisfied hum, looking up when Adam reappeared by your table.

Larissa went first, there were far too many French words in her order for you to understand properly, but you enjoyed hearing her accent. It was like honey dripping from her lips. When you snapped out of your thoughts, the waiter was looking down at you expectantly. You opened your mouth to place your order only to be cut off by the tall woman’s voice.

“She will have the seared foie gras as an entrée, followed by the filet mignon - medium rare - with grilled asparagus, and the passion fruit mousse for dessert.” Larissa said, her sapphire eyes looking at you above the menu.

Your mouth dropped open. First, she had picked your whole outfit down to your panties, and now this. I want control, she had told you in one of her messages. You hadn’t really understood what it meant at that time, but you did now. You would never admit how turned on you were as you closed your menu and handed it back to the waiter who gave a polite nod and walked away from your table.

“You’re staring, darling.” Larissa pointed out, making you close your mouth and look away for a second.

“Sorry, I-“

“You weren’t expecting that?”

“Yeah…”

Larissa let out a soft chuckle and reached out, crimson nails taking hold of your chin to make you look at her.

“When we meet, if we meet again, I would like to be in charge of those things.” She simply said.

“In control, you mean?”

The woman’s nostrils flared again and she gave a small nod.

“Yes, in control. I do enjoy knowing you’re wearing something that I picked for you, that you will be tasting what I want you to taste.”

There was something almost erotic in the way she said it, something that sent a shiver down your spine and had your eyes dropping to the woman’s lips, watching them curve in a smirk.

“I wanted to ask-“ You mustered the courage to say. “If you would be expecting…more than just my company.”

“Sex?” The word sinfully rolled from her tongue.

“Yes.” You let out in a whisper.

“Would you like to have sex with me?”

Maybe.

“No.” It instinctively slipped from your mouth. “This is not the kind of arrangement I’m looking for.”

“Well, then I’m not expecting sex from you, no.” Larissa simply answered. She seemed sincere, like she really had not been expecting anything more than your company.

What if you had said yes, though? Would she have sex with you if you ever changed your mind? You swallowed thickly at the thought and picked up your glass, taking a couple of sips of water.

Larissa asked about your day and if you could explain what your studies consisted of, which you happily did. You told her about economics, and how you had learnt about analysing consumers and competitors. You were sure that it was boring, having to listen to these things when you weren’t involved in marketing, and yet Larissa’s eyes never left you. She gave a nod here and there, and asked more questions when something wasn’t fully clear to her. She seemed genuinely interested in you, and it felt nice.

“Thank you, Adam.” Larissa smiled when the entrées were placed on the table.

You looked down at your plate, it was beautifully presented and smelled incredible. What was it again?

“Seared foie gras,” Larissa said as if she could read your mind. “Enjoy, darling.”

“Thank you, enjoy!” You answered and picked up your fork to try the foie gras. You remembered having tasted it once, years ago at a wedding. But it didn’t taste this good in your memory.

Larissa watched your every move. She watched you push the fork inside your mouth, how you closed your eyes when the food filled your tastebuds. The foie gras was exquisite, the woman knew it, and she relished in the pleased hum that escaped you.

“What do you think?” She said, eager to hear your thoughts.

“It’s delicious, thank you for picking it.” You answered honestly, causing Larissa to let out a shuddering breath. Was she getting off on this?

The rest of the meal went smoothly. Larissa seemed determined to keep most of her life private, only answering a couple of your questions, often with well-thought answers that wouldn’t give out too much. It seemed like she enjoyed hearing you talk about yourself, though, for she asked you question after question throughout the evening.

“Thank you for tonight, Larissa.” You said when the two of you walked out of the restaurant. She had paid for the whole bill and, even though you had expected it, it still brought a blush to your cheeks.

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer against her, walking with you towards her car. She had convinced you to let her drive you back to your flat, although it hadn’t taken much for you to agree to it.

You sat down in the passenger seat of her Chevrolet and stayed quiet as Larissa turned on the engine and drove away from the restaurant. A silence fell between you, it was a bit uncomfortable until the older woman turned the radio on and a familiar new wave song filled the car.

Larissa softly hummed along to the tune and her hand moved to rest on your leg, just above your knee, her thumb soothingly rubbing your skin. You didn’t think you would love it as much as you did, but her hand was warm against your flesh and it simply felt right.

“I think we’ve arrived.” Larissa said as she pulled over in front of your flat.

“Mm? Oh, yeah, yes!” You nodded taking a look outside. You had been lost in your thoughts for the entirety of the ride.

Larissa leaned over and pulled something from the glove compartment before handing it to you. It was a small golden envelope with your initials handwritten on it.

“For your missed shift.” She smiled and placed the envelope in your hand.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm. Now go, get some rest.” She purred. “I will text you later.”

“Goodnight, Larissa.” You bit your lip, hesitating for a second before eventually placing a kiss on the woman’s cheek.

“Goodnight, darling.” She squeezed your thigh and watched you step out of her car, waiting until you were inside the building before she drove away.

You closed the door behind yourself and let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. It had gone…surprisingly well. Larissa was truly charming, she was intelligent, eloquent, and wealthy. And she was breathtakingly beautiful.

You stepped out of your heels and walked through your flat, dropping the envelope on the kitchen counter before you made your way to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

Thoughts of the older women flooded your mind as soon as you stepped under the hot water jet. Was she home already? What was she doing? Had she enjoyed her evening? You were pretty sure that she had. More than once you had caught her pupils dilating as you thanked her for what she had picked for you, whether it was the food or the clothing. Was she thinking about you right now like you were thinking about her?

Would you like to have sex with me? - her voice echoed through your mind and you whined, dropping your hand between your legs. There was a sense of urgency in the way you fucked yourself as you thought of Larissa being in control of you, your food, your outfit - God, you’d probably let her take control of your whole being if she asked for it.

“Fuck- Larissa!” Her name rolled from your tongue as you reached your climax, leaving you panting heavily against the shower wall. It was depraved, you thought, fucking yourself thinking of a woman you had just met.

The same thought crossed Larissa’s mind as she slowly pulled her fingers out of herself, pushing them between her lips to lick them clean. It was depraved, but you had looked so good in the dress she’d picked for you and you had been so thankful all night long.

The tall woman opened a kitchen drawer, pulled a cigarette out of it, and lit it while she poured herself a glass of red with her other hand. It usually was either one or the other, but tonight she really needed both. Larissa was hooked, she couldn’t help herself, she loved taking care of a pretty thing.

You grabbed the envelope from the counter on your way to bed, opening it once you had settled down under the duvet. Two hundred dollar bills fell on your lap, making your eyes widen. This was almost double what you’d have made for your shift tonight. You bit your lip and put the money back into the envelope before shoving it inside your bedside table. Maybe you could get used to this, spending time with a beautiful woman and being paid for it. What was that thing she said? Ah, yes, to seek utmost pleasure.

———————————————————————

taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09@catechristiesstuff @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @vigelvictoria @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @makkaroni221 @snakeskin-world @shawncantwrite @eveymay @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @s-c-rambledegggs @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @marcelinececiliarose @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @dani885-xox @rando-mango @jessi-v @rosiexweill @raya0jpg @iheartmilfies @tbsoe @olivianevrakisownsme @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @kittyxtallmilfs @tallvampirelady12  @spacetoaim22 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @bigwanise12 @moonyboyjay @i-love-nerdy-stuff @sapphicsticate-blog @1-800-milfdilf @isastrwbxy @bluepandastarfish @tarabeck15 @musicallovinggal @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @slightlymalicedme @anoymous614372 @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @goodnightboi @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt

[funficwriter]

A Wolf and A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

Chapter 2: Will the Chaperone Approve?

A/N: WHO'S READY FOR C2?! I hope you guys enjoy this :D

Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster

Synopsis: Being a noble meant that marriage was a chess game, not an affair of love. Unfortunately for the pristine Balthazar family of Fontaine, Y/N has long been enamored with love and sought it out before their priorities. After her grey, boring time of courtesy, she meets Duke Wriothesley, who makes her yearn for the first time in her life, and it's the same for him. Threatened by the idea of losing this first, it seems they'll stop at very little to be together...

Warnings: Controlling/abusive parents, discrimination (towards Wrio), sexism, reader has a breakdown, yandere themes.

Your parents loved the idea of you taking a vacation not to rest, but because 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'. They were clearly referring to the nobles, who would only pine more if you were unavailable for a while.

Last night, you all returned from Belleau, warmly welcomed by the main manor's staff. Your favorite among them was your governess, Agatha; Though she generally listened to your parents' instructions, she occasionally broke some rules for you. That night, she waited until everyone else was asleep to bring you some cake, in exchange for you telling her about the nobles.

"And what about Duke Arya? I know you looooove braggarts!

"No way! All he does is talk about himself like he's Focalors!".

And you'd both laugh. You loved how Agatha has evolved to be a mother figure to you. It was unfortunate when she had to go and let you sleep, but oh well.

You knew this time would come; It was the morning, and you saw a servant bring tea to the room where your parents read the declarations of courting that were received over the vacation.

"Pierre, please call my daughter here. We must discuss something of the utmost importance.".

The servant would nod, your status as a young maiden really hammering home the point. You walked in, a little unnerved by the warm smile your parents sported, but better that than scowling.

Your mother was the first to talk: "Ah, good morning Y/N. You look as beautiful as you ever did.".

Your father, always thinking ahead, had to add on: "Indeed, so beautiful to make half the Court's dukes turn their heads!".

He let out a loud, victorious laugh. Maybe it would take you a while to get used to this pride for you. You sat down, looking over the small stack of papers. It was truly fascinating, in a weird sense: All these crests and emblems, clearly signaling many different gentlemen... And they all shared the same recipient sitting right in front of them.

"So as per custom, your mother and I have looked over most of them. We've already scrapped the ones from barons, since you can clearly marry up with your amount of choice!".

Was there choice? While it was true that you had a smidge of a say, it was just that. Furthermore, that smidge had to be based on standing, finances and the criteria deemed 'important' for your marriage. Love was not on the list. Maybe a word tossed around or an act indulged in, but nowhere near the other criteria.

How would they react if you told them who you truly wanted to marry? How would they like their daughter throwing away business owners, legacy holders and other 'fancier' nobles for the one who dealt with the backdoor business of Fontaine? No matter, you decided to use that 'smidge' to the best of your ability.

"I'm glad to see I can marry up.".

"Yes, yes. Now look here, my dear. Your mother likes Count Evermore, since he seemed sweet with you...".

And off your parents went off, comparing this Lord and that important person to the other. There was whose business would last longer, which last name had more history, which was cleaner... After the third new name, your mind fazed out to Wriothesley. You wanted to be courted by Wriothesley. You wanted to say yes to Wriothesley. Screw the Evermores, Archadelles, Demauris... Being a queen itself did not compare to being his Duchess of Meropide.

"There are still a couple of unread letters, though...".

"Eh, I don't know. My heart's already set on Archandelle or Evermore... But we'll see these too. There's Dukes and Viscounts, which is good...".

It was as if timing synced up. Your mother grabbed an envelope featuring a wolf crest. No, the wolf he wears right under his shoulder.

It seemed relatively short, but the text must be good. Your mother looked pleased for a minute.

"Oh, my! Gentlemen who are this sentimental about their potential wives are quite rare! Oh...".

When she got to the sender's signature, the dreamlike effect waned off of her. It was as if she was hoping someone else had sent this one. Your father took one look at the crest and understood it all. Nevertheless, he still read it. For now, playing a little dumb (as any good girl should be, in their opinion) sounded like the best option to prod.

"Who is that, father?".

He took a deep breath and looked at it as he answered: "Duke Wriothesley of Meropide. (he chortled) I wonder if he took writing classes while we were away?".

You didn't know how to feel anymore. At first, your despair was replaced by the sheer joy his name brought you. Yes, that was the one you loved best! And you saw some of his past written inquiries, he was always well-spoken and eloquent. Why was your father insinuating that the opposite was normal? You wanted to see it and compare it to what he wrote to your grandfather.

"By the way, Y/N, there's something we must ask you. During our last party, you were seen chatting in a rather... Animated fashion with him. What were you talking about?".

Crap. You should have expected gossip to fly around and narrow your parents' eyes at you. You went with the safe answer: "Mostly books and music. He likes going to the opera whenever he can.".

"But we don't see him often, so I'm presuming he's not always free, is he dear? I was frankly shocked that he even came to the party.".

You knew they'd be nitpicky about even nobles who fit their bill, let alone someone considered 'atypical'. But did anyone see you two leaving? Heart thumping in fear, you prayed to Focalors that they just heard of you two talking and nothing else.

"I mean... Mother, father, while he may not be the most typical Duke, he's still an important component in Fontaine's justice and security. Haven't you noticed crime rates have plummeted ever since he took over? Just like Count Evermore, he holds justice close to his heart.".

Your mother nodded, seeing your point of view, before turning to your father: "I prefer other gentlemen, but she's not entirely wrong. We want her to be with someone who exemplifies Fontaine's core values, just as she embodies them.".

"Yes, yes. We might take that into consideration, but listen to me, Y/N...".

You were so sick of these lectures, but it seemed like your point might hold weight. Grin and bear it. Grin and bear it for him.

"We'll want to consider as many as we can, then narrow down the choice, which will happen after the next event. However, we've raised you to know the best options. You know there are many, many better options laid out to you right now. Unless something happens and they fall from grace, for example, keep the bulk of your attention on the Dukes we have discussed most.".

"...Yes, Father.".

He called out to his wife: "Aren't I right? Isn't what I'm saying the core of successful marriage?".

"Yes, yes, my dear. Though she'll entertain many conversations, she'll focus on our best options. And I must say, it's entertaining how we didn't have to do that much narrowing down, since she's got choice.".

He smiled fondly at you: "Indeed. I know we've raised a fine, young lady. Only at her social debut and she's already brought us so much praise.".

For years, you had yearned for this moment; Your parents smiling like the ones in the fairy tales, kindly praising you and reminding you that they loved you. Had you had this recognition a couple of years ago, you'd readily accept whatever husband they threw at you. But at this stage, it was too little, too late. Your heart has already been captured by Wriothesley, your thoughts invaded by him and no amount of love (Which, conveniently, only arrived after their 'investment' paid off) could change that. You focused on the bright side of seeing him again, and the chance he'll get of putting a good impression to your parents. A Duke was well-versed in that, especially if he liked the lady in question.

The servant knocked: "Forgive me for disturbing this important discussion, but young Lady Y/N's tutor has arrived and inquired as to whether she has lessons for today or not.".

"Oh heavens no! You should get going, my dear. Skipping lessons would be the last thing you need!".

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"That sounds like quite a feat of courage on your part, Duke Archandelle!".

"Indeed, Baron Balthazar. But it might not be courage so much as enjoying the hunting season.".

You did not like this arrangement; Your parents and yourself were with Duke Archandelle, the two men chatting away. Within its course, your father seemed happier and happier, which was bad for you. He's looking for any Duke to pick over Wriothesley, and if Archandelle is 'too good' per say, you know who you're getting paired off with and it's not the one you makes you swoon, laugh, or question the deeper nuances of life. Not the one you love.

"You remind me a bit of myself in my younger years. It's a rite of passage to go after the largest deer your group can find.".

"And the night that followed was equally as thrilling. (he gave you a slight glance) We watched a gorgeous ballet number at the Opera. The Lady of Cooler Waters, I believe.".

The mention made your parents more excited. Here was a kind, courteous gentleman who helped you watch your step, who enjoyed the hunting season and the arts in the same day. Manly, but not brutish. Basically, a perfectly adjusted and balanced gentleman.

A knockoff version of my Wriothesley. How thrilling.

Speak of the devil, tufts of black and silver hair appeared in the sea of blondes. They were twisting around, as if their head was turning around a lot to look for something. In the end, it was someone, and there he was, looking so broodingly handsome and making every other man in the room look average at best. His blue eyes scanned the room, and once they landed on you, it was over for the both of you.

You wanted to swim in those cold eyes until you got hypothermia. You wanted to be thrown into their cool pond and feel the temperature restart your system. But what a paradox took place; Once he found you, your heart felt ready to explode on the spot, and your temperature was rising rather quickly. The once-light dress now felt stuffy. If you fainted, how would you explain this to your parents? You saw his own pupils dilate and his stoic expression break out into an enchanted smile that meant a million more than your parents' or that stupid Archandelle's.

He's here. He looks so handsome. His smile is so cute and gorgeous. Why can't he just come in and join our conversation? Stupid high society social codes!

You could tell that he was trying to get close, already in conversation with a few others nearby. Though they were trying to focus on what he was saying, they were gazing - either in surprise or in prejudice - at his wolf ears.

So rude! So ignorant and incapable of realizing that he's far more handsome that he ever will be!

Once Archandelle left to catch up with a friend (not before obnoxiously letting you know that he wants to talk to you again), a bit of freeway opened up for Wriothesley. Ever the go-getter, you didn't doubt that he'd take it.

"Ah, Baron Balthazar, you picked quite the lovely night to plan this.".

Your father smiled, although it looked rather forced. You bet he wouldn't look like that if it was any other noble: "Duke Wriothesley! What a pleasant surprise, we were worried that you might not make it!".

"Oh? Well, I've always had a penchant for surprising people. How do you do, Madame Balthazar?".

Your mother exchanged pleasantries in the same tense way your father did, her eyes narrowing down on his ears. No wonder he was so happy when you expressed appreciation for lycanthrope culture; Everyone else was being such a jerk about it, and you wondered how he lived side by side with it. Maye you can ask that later.

Though he talked to your parents, you couldn't avoid his gaze. He didn't like a lot of the people here, them included (not that you could blame him). He didn't come here for them, but for you. Enough with the pleasantries, he decided.

"I think by now, you know of my feelings regarding the beautiful young Lady Balthazar. And so, I couldn't let myself show up without a present for her.".

He handed you a small, silver box; Sleek, minimalistic but with a beauty that didn't need the other nobles' gaudiness to shine. You opened it to find a silver bracelet (how did he guess your wrist size, anyway?!) adorned with the same wolf emblem he wore.

Deep breaths! Deep breaths! Don't faint or blush, act normal!

After one, you finally got to talk: "Oh, Your Grace! I-I... Forgive me for my lack of speech, it's splendid!".

Your original plan was to not be too excited by him, but could you really help it? A few other nobles got you presents, too, but you had to question your class' taste in what a lady would like. This was just perfect. If it weren't for your parents, you'd wear it right now, but you had to control yourself.

Your father coughed: "Hem! Er- Thank you for the thoughtful gift, though one would deem it a bit too confident to have their crest on it... Say, how are things at the Fortress?".

He had the urge to punch this annoying old man. Here you were, happy and frickin adorable over wearing his crest, already so eager to demonstrate who you belong to, then here comes the Baron to shut this moment down.

"Pretty stable for now. We aren't receiving many new inmates. Perhaps people are losing interest in crime, in which case, that's a victory for Fontaine.".

"Mhm. Yes, indeed. We have much to thank you for, especially your service. I can imagine it's a hard job.".

He chuckled a little, stealing whatever gaze he could at you (man, he felt like he was reverting to his young thief self): "Not necessarily. Most people behave, and you learn quite a bit. I'm still rather young for a Duke, but ever since I started, I've become much better at protecting what matters to me.".

As he talked, it was more obvious that by 'what matters', that included you. Now the image was stuck in your head: You, in danger for whatever reason, and him dashing in to save you and proclaim that you're his drive, his love, what matters to him the most. This sounded like your fairytale prince. Did anyone in your manor think that way of you? Did you even matter to the other nobles beyond potential unions with a historic and important name?

"I'll cut to the chase, Your Grace, since my daughter is the biggest reason behind the last two events. Say you two married; Would she always be what matters to you? Do keep in mind that that's a heavy proclamation.".

The beautiful thing about Wriothesley was that he was ready for such questions. Most nobles hired a conversation coach to 'deal with the maiden's father' so they could speak well in front of him, thus swaying his opinion in their favor. Wriothesley was genuine. Earnest. He only needed himself to back up his claims.

"I said it, and it will always apply. If you know me well, you'll notice, dear Baron, that I'm a man who finds principles that work and sticks to them. The same applies to deciding my priorities, even if other people may not see what I see.".

"What do you mean by that?".

"I myself was always interested in being married, but you know how the start of a career is; So hectic, you can barely think of anything else. I could see where the rumor of me losing interest in companionship came from. Now that I'm more established on several aspects, I can focus on my own personal goals, including being a good husband."

"Yes, indeed. It does take a gentleman a while before he gets married. And considering your important position, I can presume my daughter will be taken care of?".

Perhaps you should look into a Kamera, to always have a picture of that sweet smile: "Without a flicker of a doubt. And I know courtship should take a while. Please take all the time you need to decide. Should you want to know anything that you think might impact the process, please let me know.".

You wanted to declare victory; He could stand against Duke Archandelle and (at least) make the choice harder for your father.

"Do forgive me suspicion, dear Duke, but does what matters to you extend to... you know... People who aren't, of your ilk?".

Oh no. Oh no, no, no please...

As he said 'of your ilk', he pointed at his own head, referring to Wriothesley's wolf ears. You could feel your love tense up, but keep his cool for another reason besides you; Hybrids were held to such an unfair standard. One trace of annoyance or anger from them and everyone would talk about how 'they're too dangerous to live in human society!'.

"Pardon, my ilk? We're all noble Fontainians here.".

"Oh, I can tell you only come with chivalry and good intentions. But I must point out that even if I'm just a Baron, 'Balthazar' is among Fontaine's oldest and most noble names. People look up to us even more than the average noble family, including our unions and bonds. So marriage has always been a very tricky thing for us, even with close humans.".

Both of you tensed up, and you had to fight back tears. While there was still a chance, technically, you father was alluding to rejecting this pairing, possibly in favor of another Duke.

This is unfair. This is so unfair, and you never wished to not be a noble until tonight. No, you wished you had no parents, that way you could control your fate a bit more, even if people gave you the side eye. Even by noble standards, he was husband material! You wouldn't have to move a finger as his wife. You'd be touted as important, as 'a lady of justice' since that's what your husband is involved in. But no, your parents just have to shut their eyes and ears and call all the shots in relation to you-

Oh, Focalors, what did I do so wrong for you to let me be born as their daughter? Wouldn't it be better if I were just his prisoner? Even now, a prisoner is more his than me!

BOOM!

A loud sound resonated from one of the gardens. The music's abrupt stop further panicked many people, some leaving the ballroom to see what's going on, others peering over the balconies. Your parents belonged to the first camp. A hand immediately grabbed yours; It was Wriothesley's.

"Quick, we're on limited time!".

You both made a dash for a spare room nearby. He closed the door and finally caught his breath. Before you could ask what he was doing, he lunged to embrace you in his arms, the sheer strength making you gasp.

"Okay, listen. I need to tell you two things, okay? They're very important...".

He stopped to pant again.

"Wriothesley, what's going on?".

"A friend of mine made a diversion to buy us time. I can't say these things in front of your parents.".

You nodded.

"First of all, starting tonight and per usual courtship processes, your parents might be spying on what mail you get, so our communication will be halted if they find out... If they find out what we say to each other. But I have a way to keep it up. Can you stay up for a bit to see it, maybe around 12 or 1 AM?".

"Certainly, certainly! If it helps us keep talking, I will!".

Even with the stress rushing through him, your eagerness brought on a multitude of emotions. Gosh, you were so cute. It wasn't enough for you to be so adorable early on, and his own personal type, was it? Your reaction made it clear that he wasn't the only one feeling this way. He was glad that the first plan would work out.

"Thank you. It's vital if we wish to be together. It doesn't sound like I can hold up to the competition your Father has for me-".

The allusion to him not being enough was the last straw for tonight.

"Don't say that, don't say that again! He doesn't know anything about what makes a good man, alright? He demonstrated that enough tonight! You're worth a million more of these stupid other men, okay?!".

He knew ladies were capable of being angry, but something about seeing it in real life, for the first time, was astounding. And yet deep down, he saw the outburst coming. Between your shaking hands and teary eyes, and how much you had to hide them from your father... His heart broke a little at seeing the love of his life so anguished, her tears dripping down quicker than she could wipe them.

"It's so obvious he doesn't care! He'll gladly excuse poor table manners or slimy behavior in general, but when someone just happens to be a bit different, that's when he says 'no sale' and shuts me up! 'We care about good repute and you', my foot! It's all about his name and what he wants... Why does my say not matter? Why?".

You didn't want Wriothesley to see you in this state so early, but after tonight's tension, you just couldn't. You were so sick of living with your shots being called for you. For so long, life was horribly dull, depressing through the lens of a growing child. When you finally found someone who washed away that grey and exposed you to the color of life, you were told you were forbidden from having it ever again. You had to follow the life script your parents wrote, your happiness be damned.

Your sobs racketed up and down, before quieting when you felt his weight on you; Slowly, warmly and lovingly.

"Star of my life... I'm so sorry for how tonight went. Believe me, I wanted to punch him. I hate how rigid this social code is, even more on you...".

You just realized that this was the first time he touched you beyond holding your hand. When you were young, you imagined your favorite chimney in the house to be the warmest place in the world. Oh how wrong you were, but to be fair, you couldn't have known before he took you in his arms; A fortress and a hearth all at once.

"I'm so sorry... You know, I was about to tell you the second thing, which I believe may help you...".

"What is the second thing?".

He slightly detached himself, though still holding you, to look deep into your eyes and silently swear upon those beautiful orbs: "By the name of Focalors and my own as the Duke of Meropide, you will be mine. We will end up together and you'll forget the names of the other men. Yes, we'll face some hiccups along the way. But in the end, all your other suitors will fall, one way or another. And once that happens, we'll be looming over them, with you in my arms for the rest of our lives.".

"Wriothesley... Forever?".

"Yes. We'll never have to face a dull day again. Forever. Forever, until Fontaine keels over and becomes dust.".

Your breath slowed down. He sounded so serious, and you wanted to believe in it. This man's caliber was an exceptional one, and something told you that once he made a promise, he kept it until he withered.

He leaned in a little and so did you. Your time was probably out, but you'll be damned if you can't enjoy it. You were closer, and closer, taking in his scent of cedar and myrrh until...

"That explosion was scary!"

"Shows you that commoners have no concept of watching over their kids.".

The nobles were slowly filing back into the ballroom. Wriothesley let out a quiet 'Goddamnit!", before looking through the door. Once the camp was clear, you left earlier, armed with the lie he gave you: "Oh, I lost my parents and I was so scared!". Perfect for a fragile, innocent maiden. The party went on, and you started questioning what the new way of communication would look like. The 'spying' aspect brought a bit of amusement to your mood, which you needed.

----------------------------------------------------------

12:49 AM

Wriothesley ended up being right about your parents controlling your mail. One letter from a male classmate ended up opened and half-torn on fear that he was a rival suitor, before they read the hasty message asking you about a homework assignment. You presumed he's seen many courting processes (perhaps wondering when did he get to be the groom?) and understood their workings well.

The letter you were writing was almost complete. You felt a little clearer in the head after venting out on paper, albeit still very sad. Your father really, really wanted to pair you with Duke Archandelle. But Wriothesley was so determined, even risking his friend - and himself, should they snitch him out - to tell you to not lose hope. For now, all you could do is wait for the 'new method of communication'.

In the meantime, you tried to play a little guessing game to keep your mind off of everything, but to no avail. You also wore the wolf bracelet, its sheen reminding you of his piercing eyes and silver tufts. Your thought of train was about to restart until you heard a small bark.

"Huh?".

Save for the security Dobermanns you often have, dogs were not allowed in the manor. Were you perhaps just thinking about your own dog-like lover too much?

"Arf!"

This one was much louder, and on the left side of the table. The source of the barks was an adorable husky puppy, smiling and approaching you. He wore a collar with the Duke's crest on it, and a sort of paper backpack which you presumed had Wriothesley's message for you.

"Awwwww, you're so cute!!".

You weren't often exposed to dogs, but nevertheless you took it in your arms to pet it. His color scheme reminded you so much of Wriothesley, you wondered whether it could be him in his animal form. The collar was double-sided: The back had 'Frosty' written on it in clumsy handwriting that you knew wasn't the Duke's.

"Frosty? Were you sent by Duke Wriothesley of Meropide?".

He barked again, as if confirming your questions. You took out the 'backpack' to find an actual letter, a whistle wrapped up in another note which read:

ABOUT FROSTY

Y/N, excuse my handwriting and format, I'm writing this in a hurry. Before you ask, Sigewinne named the pup. She wanted to name him 'Wriothesley The Second', originally, then settled with 'Frosty' since that was the closest compromise we found. I rescued him from drowning two weeks ago and planned to hand him over to a reputable shelter, until I noticed his smarts. He's delivered my mail efficiently, even if it was his first time going to a new place. He knows where we both live, and answers to the whistle enclosed with him. Use it if you need to send me anything, especially something urgent. You will be my wife soon, so we should get into the habit of good communication. Don't hesitate to tell me anything, especially if it terrifies or excites you. I always have an ear for you.

Wriothesley.

Archons, Wriothesley was so cute. He looked so tough but you could always count on him to decide on such a way. You attached your own letter and pet Frosty one more time before he disappeared into the night.

'You will be my wife soon...' Will I, Wriothesley? Will I really see a day where I'll wake up with you by my side, and not bemoaning my being alive, but thanking my stars for the arrangement?

You two will be together. You weren't sure how many more boring dates you had to go to with Archandelle, but as Agatha told you: All was in due time. It had be a matter of when, not if, the promise was fulfilled and you would no longer belong to your father. Oh, you could hardly wait for that day. For one you'll be wearing the bracelet he gave you. That day would also have sweets, love and definitely not him.

[youkaigakkou-tl]

(sorry in advance for the long ask) i feel silly for not noticing earlier but i realized that "Sano Mikoto" follows the same "__ no mikoto" name pattern that several japanese gods have. but that also made me wonder: if the 佐 from sano's name means "help" then his whole name sounds like "the god of help/assistance". but based on how that doesn't align with his yakubyougami nature and how ebisu reacts to hearing the name in ch 53 (his reaction is a bit more clear in the jpn raws) (1/2)

佐 doesn't really mean "help" on its own, it only somewhat means that when it's part of the word 補佐 "hosa" , which means "assistant" (in an organizational structure to a chief or leader) rather than like "helping people". Most of the time 佐 is just used as a kanji to represent the sound "sa", which is somewhat frequently the case for the on-readings (similar to chinese pronunciation) of kanji.

This is particularly prevalent when it comes to ancient literature like the creation myths and stories around gods, where the stories originally only existed in verbal form, and when japan adopted the chinese writing system some 1500 years ago, they applied certain chinese characters to the sounds that existed in japanese (the 50 or so hiragana that exist now) in order to put the stories into writing.

(and then over time 50 or so kanji got simplified into hiragana for normal use but thats neither here nor there. but names got to keep their kanji, which is why creation myth gods often have stupid long names that are 1 kanji per syllable, and the kanji used dont mean much of anything by themselves)

(theres also that often the kanji chosen will have been positive words, stuff like "fast" or "wise" or "powerful", in addition to the chinese word sounding like the japanese syllable (which was the more important part). Its unclear whether all these attributes were all applicable to the god named, its just as possible people afterwards applied those attributes to them in future retellings of the stories because the kanji was in the name. sort of a chicken and egg problem. and anyway, does it really matter what the one "true" interpretation of a story is, if one exists at all? it's a very modern sensibility to demand one, when for much of history stories only existed in the air between a storyteller and a listener. im getting off track here)

this is a lot of words to say, what is significant about the 佐 in "sano", is that it's the same one as in susanoo-no-mikoto. susanoo, notable for being associated with storms and disaster, for being exiled from heaven after causing some sort of destruction, and for being a child of izanagi and izanami and born after their first child hiruko (or rather, ebisu).

the thing about the yakubyougami thing, as with every other youkai and everything about folklore, is that at the end of the day, it's a story. youkai are just a set of attributes and circumstances that are wrapped up as a story, and in turn given a name and a face. a kamaitachi is just the occurrence of "wind whipping up suddenly and dust and leaves cutting someone" wrapped up as a story of "what if an imperceptibly fast weasel with knives did it?!"

it's why there can be so many different versions of stories for the same youkai, with behaviors and appearance differing from place to place, or the same "story" being given a different "name" in different places

(relevant to the latest chapter, i sort of suspect this is why theres like 10 different monkey youkai whose lore is just "this monkey is a FREAK")

what im getting at is, this isnt really like scientific taxonomy classifications, where theres genes you can sequence or criteria you can check to see if something is the right species. (and even then, there's birds stranded on isolated islands, fish sealed in caves, microorganisms in general, etc etc) there's not like a "youkai auditor" that goes around auditing if you're Really the youkai you say you are.

nor is it like you intrinsically know what youkai you are and all the lore about it and what behaviors youre supposed to have and what powers you have etc. you're told that by your parents, and in cases where that isnt possible, you figure it out somehow. like with beniko (popped out of a house and raised by humans), they looked it up and people have come up with a name for the phenomenon, which was called "zashiki warashi". or in cases like odawara where you really do just come to life alone, i imagine you either make a name for yourself, or humans who come across you will make a name for you.

which is a lot of words to say, sano can call himself whatever the hell he wants to make his life easier and not have to explain his backstory or have classmates make guesses at his backstory, as long as his traits somewhat fit. especially since recently he's often in the same scenes as kurahashi, who is now confirmed to straight up not be who or what he says he is.

[wolfythewitch]

Wolfy, you have not only dragged me into the EPICS, but also now into the prince of Egypt (I'm on my first watch) I did not expect it to be this good, although I'm a little confused on what's going on This is infact an invitation so you can ramble if you please yes yes

HI YES PRINCE OF EGYPT INCREDIBLE MOVIE

It details the story of Moses, specifically found in the book of Exodus (aka, a departure or emigration), and also the story of Passover, a Jewish tradition. If any of my Jewish followers want to talk about that, feel free! My knowledge is very surface level and mostly from what I've read from the bible.

But so yeah at that time, the Hebrew people were slaves under the Egyptian rule, but they were multiplying too much and the pharaoh got nervous. So he ordered that any infant child be taken and thrown into the river. Moses was a baby at that time, and so he would've met the criteria of baby throwing. His mother did not vibe with that order and took Moses, placed him in a waterproof basket, and sent him down the river to hopefully find a better future than drowning. He ends up floating by the royal palace and gets found by the princess, daughter of the pharaoh(tho in the movie they changed her to be the wife instead) who takes a liking to him and decides to adopt him. In the bible, Miriam (his sister who the mother sends to follow him) asks the princess if she'd like a nursemaid, claiming to know someone (that someone being Moses' mother), and the princess agrees, so Moses gets to be with his family for a few years before going back to the palace. In the movie they don't have that and he's taken in directly with Miriam just praying he be safe and come back to them one day. So it's not very explicit in the bible but love the relationship between him and Rameses (I don't think he was actually named in the bible, but historians figured it was him based on contextual evidence) godbless and then he accidentally kills a guy and runs away. He meets tzipporah and his family and gets welcomed in and married and stuff. So the burning bush. Moses' destiny, if you will, is to save his people, and God tells him as much. Go back to Egypt and free his people. Moses doesn't think himself up to it but God says he'll be with him. So he goes back and does. Rameses refuses because that's his entire workforce, and in retaliation God sends down the 10 plagues. With each plague, Rameses hardens his heart and he refused to let Moses' people go. Until the tenth and final plague, the death of the firstborn. Any household with lamb's blood painted on their doorpost, the angel of death will pass over (AYEEE Passover). The Hebrews knew this but the Egyptians did not. Finally, at the death of his own son, Rameses tells Moses that his people are free.

They take their stuff and go. Thing is, to be actually free, they'd have to cross the wilderness. But there's a pesky sea blocking their way, which isn't very great for the whole crossing the wilderness thing. Also, the Egyptians had a change of heart and are going to get them back. So they're trapped between the sea and the enemy. God sends down a pillar of fire to stall them (though iirc in the bible it's like a cloud of darkness and a pillar of light depending on who you were) and while that's happening, Moses goes over and strikes his staff into the water. And the red sea parts before him, giving them a straight path across. You know the rest, with the people crossing and the waters coming down to drown the army and stuff. So now they're officially free from the Egyptians! But they're not done yet, because the main goal is to reach the Promised Land, and Moses is designated to lead them. They do skip ahead a few chapters and have Moses already grab the two stone tablets with the ten commandments, that doesn't happen until later and involves a golden calf haha

[ayasenisan1713]

My list of favorite novels (named 'Favorite novels (recommend+++)' in my tabs…):

1. ✨'Lord of the Mysteries'✨

2. ´Trash of the Count’s Family' (sorry orv, you appear later)

3. 'Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint' (sometimes I see people recommend these three novels and I’m like "You have good tastes, let’s see what other novels you liked so that I can read them…")

4. ‘Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint Side Story' (I’m joking, it’s still orv… but I’ve really written this.)

5. (In truth, the 4th) 'The Demon Prince goes to the Academy' (In life, some things are particularly underrated, and this is one of them. Especially on ao3, someone please write fics for this.)

6. (In truth the 5th) 'The Law of Webnovels' (The manhwa is named 'Inso’s law'.)

7. (The 6th, all favorite novels are equal in my heart from here on) 'The Novel’s Extra' (I don’t know why… It must be the psychological struggle in the middle…)

8. (Still 6th) 'The Hero Returns'

9. (Still 6th) 'How to Raise Your Regressor' (less heavy (I guess��?), for those who like humor)

10. (Still 6th) 'My Death Flags Show No Sign of Ending' (only reproach is the lack of chapters)

11. (Still 6th) 'SSS-Class Suicide Hunter'

My criteria for choosing my favorite novels:

First, I went to the list of novels I read and didn’t drop.

Then, I eliminated all those that I didn’t even remember what they talked about. (I called them third rate novels)

After that, I searched for the ones I remembered the names of the characters in it, then realized that it couldn’t be a criteria since I only remembered the names of people from lotm, tcf and orv.

Then, I put all the novels I really liked as first rate novels, the rest as second rate novels (but I like all of them too), and finally put all the novels I would bother rereading in my list of favorite novels. Tadah.

[caxycreations]

Tylvinian Tales: The Wolf's Den

Chapter Eight: Application

Ferusian Law, Third Sequence, Article 2: Law of Union

Ferusian citizens are entitled to membership with any Union, Guild, or other organization of representatives and beneficiaries within their field. Employers are required to comply with all local Union and Guild guidelines.

Unions and Guilds within Ferus are subject to all federal laws and regulations, and cannot impose guidelines that contradict them.

Employers failing to adhere to Union or Guild guidelines are subject to blacklisting, a legally-recognized form of employment prevention which disallows an employer from benefitting from the work of Guild or Union members.

Unions and Guilds are permitted to set requirements and criteria for membership, but cannot revoke membership without approval from a local employment office.

Unions or Guilds found violating any law are subject to disbanding or forced leadership change.

I woke up with a start, eyes snapping wide open and scanning the room around me. My den, quiet and calm, even the TV had been turned off. Looking around, I found my phone on the floor, ringing and buzzing. Picking it up, I squinted at the screen, light flooding the room from the now-active device. It was only my alarm, no phone calls to worry about. Six in the morning, time to get up.

I set the phone down on the chair arm, stretching with a pop as my back reacted to the movement. Something white caught my vision in the darkness of the room, and a glance revealed it to be a small set of papers on the coffee table, along with a sticky note. Moving to sit at the couch to read, I stopped short of actually sitting, making my way instead over to the light switch and turning it on before sitting down.

The sticky note was from David.

"Hey big guy, you seemed so comfy so I didn't wanna wake you! But you should really look through this! I did, and I'm jealous!!"

It was signed with his name. I always found his signature a little cute. He dotted the 'I' of his name with a heart, and the 'D' at the end always had a squiggle coming off it that circled his whole name. It made me smile, and I couldn't help but sigh a little. He was probably asleep, and no telling when he would wake up. I looked at the papers he'd left me to look at, realizing it was the application form Kaleb had given me.

David had gone and brought the papers in from the truck for me to read. I'd made a deal with Kaleb, and now David encouraging me, I had no choice but to at least consider the work. I glanced through at first, most of it was standard application jargon, but something caught my eye. It was inked in, not typed like the rest. Added under the rest of the benefits after the fact.

"Priority scheduling for any weekend performance with one week's notice."

I glowered, eyes locked on the words. A snarl built up in my throat, and I almost tore the paper apart then and there. Priority scheduling? Was he testing me? Or did he think I was stupid? Tylvin's creative fields, like my own DJ work, were under the jurisdiction of the Tylvinian Artist's Guild. The Guild had strict rules, I couldn't accept any work by a blacklisted employer and if an employer tried to cut deals with me specifically, under the nose of the Guild, it was reason enough to blacklist them.

Worse still, if I accepted a deal like that, it was grounds for immediately revoking my membership. They'd have to argue it to the government, but with such a clear breach of terms they'd have my membership revoked in a day or less. Kaleb was risking himself doing this...And if I accepted the deal, I would be risking myself too.

I growled louder, furrowing my brow. This changed a lot of things. I could cross it out...Or I could take it to the Guild, show them what he had written. I could turn him in for breaking guidelines. But if I did that to one of the richest men in the country, I'd be putting a target on my back for sure. I sighed, setting the papers down and deciding to think on it more later.

I stood, stretching until my back popped, then made my way around the chair and past the bar counter, into the kitchen. After rifling through the fridge, I put some bacon in the oven alongside sliced chicken, setting a timer before heading to my office for my morning workout. When the timer went off, I set aside my weights to go eat. After breakfast, and a quick shower, redressing quietly to avoid waking David, I sat back at the chair to review the application again.

I read over the entire form, top to bottom, cover to cover, and lay my head in my hands. It was a fantastic offer. The benefits, the pay, everything was hard to pass up. But I couldn't help but feel I was fine as I was. I might not be shopping from the wealthier sections of the store, but I was doing fine with what I had. House was paid off by the time my parents had me, I could cover my internet bill just fine, and I had plenty for gas.

I didn't need the job, or the benefits. It wasn't like I would ever need health insurance with my nature. I closed my eyes, thinking it over, or trying to. My thoughts were interrupted by a hand resting on my shoulder. I looked up and saw David, dressed in a t-shirt and his boxers, his eyes on mine and worry on his face. His tail was curled around his waist and I sat up, patting my lap. I knew that look, and the body language made it clear. He'd had a nightmare. I'd learned years ago his nightmares were nothing to sneeze at.

"Alright there, Davey?" I asked, patting my lap again. He sat quietly on my lap, resting his head on my chest and shaking his head. I wrapped an arm around him and sighed. "Which one was it this time, bud?"

He looked up at me with watery eyes, then looked back down. "It was Mom this time..." He said shakily. "She was...She wasn't herself."

I nodded. "D'ya wanna talk 'bout it?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice gentle.

He shook his head again and looked over at the table. "Were you filling out the application?" He asked, his voice still shaky. It was my turn to shake my head, giving his back a pat.

"Was jus' readin', haven't filled nothin' out yet. Ain't too sure I got any reason t' take'im up on th' offer." I said plainly. David picked up the application form, reading over it. I half-chuckled as I noticed him tense up, no doubt his eyes had landed on the very same note I'd stopped reading at initially.

"Is...he serious with this?" He asked, seeming more awake now, his voice less shaky. I gave a shrug, shaking my head a little.

"I ain't got th'foggiest idea. Could be testin' my resolve, or morals. Could be dead serious. I was jus' wonderin' if'n I should cross it out an' fill it out that way." I replied, looking at the papers in his hands. He looked over his shoulder at me, half-suspicious.

"Wondering...Does that mean you were thinking of filling it out...without crossing it off, mister?" he asked pointedly, poking a finger at my cheek warningly. I let out a chuckle, then hung my head in shame.

"I'll admit, I was thinkin' 'bout it. If'n I take th'job at all, might be nice to have a nice, consistent place t'make my name." I admitted, glancing down and sighing. "But I can't help but wonder if'n I even need th'work. I got what I need, y'know? Ain't like I need more."

He relaxed against me, shoulders lowering, shifting back ever so slightly. I smiled at that, seeing him visibly forgetting the stresses of his nightmare. He leaned forward to lay the papers on the table again before standing up and stretching. He turned to face me, shirt lifting a little with the twirl he did, the briefest flash of his white underbelly, the grey hips the waistband of his boxers were that slightest bit too low to cover.

"Ryder Trayson, you are one thick-headed wolf, you know that?" He said in irritation. "You have what you need right now, but what about when you can't do music anymore? Your royalties aren't going to keep you in this house then, and you know it. And even THINKING about signing that form without crossing out the one part of the whole thing that could get you blacklisted and out of a job is nuts!"

His frustration shocked me. I leaned back a little, and I could feel his stare burning into my eyes as he spoke. His hands found his hips and he leaned over, glaring into my eyes.

"You're gonna cross that line out and fill out that application, and you're gonna rock that job, because if you don't, how are you going to save up? Hm? You're paycheck to paycheck!" He half-yelled his words, frowning at me.

I thought about what he'd said for a second, and sighed, leaning forward and resting my arms over my knees. "You're right. I know, I don't need it now but I might later, but th'question is whether'r not I need it bad 'nuff t'sell myself t'that bastard Kaleb. I ain't that desperate."

He stood upright, looking at me. His eyes softened, brows going up a little and his frown twitched, growing a little deeper. "Is that why you think I took the job at the café with him? Because I was desperate?" He asked, voice starting to shake.

I realized I'd struck a nerve. Taken away his stress so easily, and just as swiftly given it back. I was supposed to be his source of comfort, his friend, and instead I'd been the reason he was hurt.

"You know that ain't what I meant by it, Davey...Shit, I'm sorry man I wasn't tryna say nothin' t'hurt ya...I jus' meant- I mean t'say I was' jus' tryna say I wasn't sure if workin' for Kaleb was th'right play." I said, trying hard to keep my words steady. The last thing I wanted to do was make things worse.

He shook his head, moving to sit on the couch a couple feet away. I could feel the tightness in my chest, the quick pulse in my veins. He took it a lot worse than I'd meant it, and I had no clue how to make this better. He sighed, and I was worried things might get worse before they got better.

"It's fine. I just worry about you, big guy...I wanna know you're taken care of, and...And that you're okay," he said as he turned to look at me. "I care about you, even if you are a dummy sometimes..."

I nodded, looking away from him. I couldn't meet his eyes, not right now. Not after causing the tears that were welling up in them. Especially not when I didn't know how to make it right for-

I did know. I knew how to make it right for him. He wanted me to take the job. He wanted me to take the job the right way.

I reached for the pen, wrapping my fingers around it. I leaned over the table, my other hand holding the paper in place. I heard David say something, but barely processed it. Page one, filled out. Another word from David. Page two, done. Three, four, all signed and sealed.

I looked at the inked in line at the bottom of the last page, furrowing my brow. I didn't care why he put it there anymore. I growled, lips curling back as my throat rumbled, baring my teeth to the page.

He thought he could buy my loyalty with illicit promises.

He thought he could test my resolve with the idea of better treatment.

He thought he could intimidate me.

He thought wrong.

I dug my pen into the page, practically carving lines of ink into the page rapidly, hand shaking. By the time I was done, there were small scratches into the paper where the tip of the pen had dug in too deeply. I was grateful the other side of the page was blank.

I glared at the mark, a light growl rumbling up in my throat. I had half a mind to tear the paper to shreds, to destroy the source of my anger, destroy the symbol of Kaleb's intentions, his 'offer' to me. I was stopped by a soft touch on my shoulder.

I relaxed immediately, growl stopping in an instant. Looking over my shoulder, I saw David standing beside me, a hand tentatively on my shoulder. His brows were furrowed, his lips parted, eyes shaking slightly. Fear. David was afraid. I'd scared him.

"Ryder, it's...It's just paper..." He said hesitantly. I took a deep breath in, eyes flicking to the paper before returning my attention to David. He had woken up, groggy and scared. I'd made it worse, and here he was still trying to help me calm down.

I nodded, standing up and giving him a hug. I closed my eyes when I felt his arms wrap around me in kind, and I took in another deep breath. This little caxy was incredible. He was kind, and patient, and considerate. Trying to take care of me even while he was in need of comfort himself.

It reminded me why we'd been friends for so long. Reminded me why I was so in...So determined to keep him safe. I let go and smiled, heading for the kitchen. I heard a soft mrow from behind, and chuckled.

"I've done had breakfast, but y'ain't had nothin' but tears an' stress. Lemme make ya somethin', anythin' at all. Jus' name it." I said with a smirk. I rolled my head, popping my neck and pushing my thoughts towards cooking and away from all the stress, and other feelings.

"Are you sure? If you've already cooked today then it's not fair for you to have to cook again just cause I woke up later." He said softly. I chuckled, already looking in the fridge to find something he'd like. I got an idea, and grabbed the milk, heading for the cabinets next.

"I'm sure, man. Y'had enough stress. Y'really think I'm gonna let ya add t' that by makin' ya cook?" I said playfully. I knew he loved to cook, but I knew just as well that he learned to love it out of necessity. If I could take that away, even for a meal or two here and there, it was a win in my book.

A little prep time and a bit of idle chatter later, and David was sitting on one of the bar stools at my counter, chowing down on a bowl of cheesy tuna and pasta, tail swaying freely and happily. I was across the counter from him, leaned over and smiling, my tail wagging slowly behind me. I looked over to the clock and sighed to myself.

"Ain't it 'bout time for th'coffee shop t'open?" I asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. This was normally when David was heading out on his morning shifts, and I was more than ready to have those papers out of my house. The longer they sat under my roof, the more infected the home felt. I made a mental note to scrub the table they sat on once I got home.

"Hm?" He asked, mouth still full of pasta as he looked up at me with wide curious eyes. He swallowed hard, barely chewing the food in the process before nodding. I half expected him to say something else, but he just re-immersed himself in the food, taking another spoonful and shoveling it into his mouth.

I chuckled, shaking my head and standing upright. I headed for the coffee table, scooping up the papers and folding them, putting them in my pocket. "Alright, well I'mma head t'the cafe an' drop these off for th'lil prick. Y'comin' with?"

He nodded excitedly and swallowed another bite. "Yep! Mind dropping me off at the mall afterwards? I woke up to a text from Trace asking me to meet him and Moss in the food court today, I'll let him know I'll be there in about half an hour."

I gave a nod, smiling and heading for the door, grabbing my keys on the way. David started to skip after me and I had to put a hand up to stop him. "Much as I love th'view'a that ass, I don't love it enough t'let my best friend get arrested fer public indecency." I joked. He giggled, turning and wiggling his butt at me a little.

"You mean you don't wanna just stare at this aaaalllll day?" He joked back, and I rolled my eyes. He skipped off towards my room to find some of his spare clothes, and I headed for the truck. A little later and David joined me, and we headed for the cafe.

Kaleb wasn't there yet, if he was going to be at all, but I was able to leave my application with the barista. Another short drive and I was dropping David off at the mall. I'd intended to just drop him off and go, but the call with Davina played back in my head and I gave a smile.

"Hey, do me a favor, man?" I called out to David from the window. He turned, skipping back over and leaning on the door with a smile.

"What'cha need, big guy?" He asked curiously.

"When y'see Trace an' Moss, once y'all've had a chance t' talk a lil, mind sendin' th' pup out my way? Been a while since we got t' talk, jus' th' two'a us. Missin' th' lil nibling." I asked.

He nodded, giggling and heading back for the entrance. I pulled into the nearest parking space and pulled out my phone, texting the space number to David and leaning back in my seat. I closed my eyes, figuring with those three it could be a while. I opened them long enough to pull the key and stuff it in my pocket before laying back again, resting my eyes and waiting for Moss.

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes Chapter Seventeen

... Or Are We Many?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Therapy, round two. And a first mission that goes awry.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 1636

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Therapy (but not terrible this time) - guilt, doubt, self-blame, injury, GSW, revenge killing.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. You know the drill. A surprisingly feel-good chapter in the end, though. Corresponds to Magic and Madness - Chapter Six. Masterlist can be found here.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!

<- Previous Chapter (16/72) Next Chapter -> (18/72)

Another day, another therapist.

This one is adorable, though. I really hope we don’t have to shout at her.

She was only mid-thirties at the latest, dressed in a cute, vibrant summer dress, shoulder length auburn hair in a messy bun and sunglasses on her head.

“Y’all must be Nat and Widow! It’s so good to meet you!” she gushed, her firm, confident hand finding mine.

Eyebrow quirked in response, we took our seat – this time in the lounge of my own rooms, at her insistence. Apparently, she’d told Bruce that the formality of the interview room wasn’t necessary. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Address both of us. You can just pick one.”

She sat back, a glass of water in her hands. “Would that make y’all more comfortable,  or are you saying it because you think addressing you both equally is an inconvenience to me?”

I blinked, startled and impressed.

Well, she’s definitely better than the last one.

“I... I don’t know,” I admitted, laughing dryly.

“Okay – how about this. I can use the name of whoever is currently fronting – ‘in control’, I think you called it?”

Another blink, and I nodded slowly. “Y... Yeah, okay. Well, I guess that’s me. Natasha. Nat,” I amended quickly, wincing.

She smiled, warm and genuine. “It’s a true pleasure to meet you, Nat. I’m so sorry for what you went through with your last therapist, but I can assure you, I am fully accepting and supportive of you and your plurality, and if you’d like any help with communication or the amnesia, just let me know.”

“My... What?” I repeated, dumbstruck by her positivity.

“Your plurality. The fact that there’s two of you. I don’t like the term ‘disorder’ as a catch-all; I know unhealthy plurality can be incredibly difficult, but it completely eradicates healthy plurality – either those that have never been disordered to start with, or who no longer fulfil the diagnostic criteria. If y’all never experience fusion, then you’ll always be plural, even if you’re not ‘disordered’.” She shrugged casually, as if this concept wasn’t one that had just blown away my entire world. “But, again, that’s just me – if you’d rather I refer to your experience as dissociative identity disorder, or DID, that’s completely fine too.”

“No…” I murmured, feeling Widow just as awestruck and spiritually satiated as myself. “No, I think we prefer ‘plural’.”

I was curled up on my sofa when Clint found me, sobbing uncontrollably. I’d been permitted a few sparse minutes to myself between the changing of the guard, and despite the tugging urge to use it more productively, I’d only cried.

He bundled me into his arms, panicked. “Oh God, not another one. Bruce even met with her beforehand – fuck, how does this keep happening?”

I buried my face in his shirt, whimpering softly. “N-No, she… She…”

“Love?”

“She was amazing,” I wailed, tears streaming down my face.

“I love her!”

Clint simply blinked in shock, then laughed softly, wiping my cheeks dry. “I’m… Glad?”

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” I sniffed, arms wrapped around myself. “I don’t have to choose between being disordered and being alone. We can have a healthy relationship. We can just be plural.”

He nodded slowly, running his fingers tenderly through my hair. “Is that what you both want?”

Yes. Yes. “Yes.”

Grinning broadly, his lips brushed my forehead. “Then I’ll support you. Y’all,” he amended, and I cocked my head. “While you were in your session, Bruce sat me down and explained something that she’d said to him – that while ‘you’ can be either singular or plural, it can be hard to differentiate, and a lot of multiple folk appreciate y’all, so it’s more specific.”

The word sounded clumsy in his far-from-Southern accent, but I sobbed again, face crumpling. “That’s so sweet.”

He laughed, rubbing my cheek lightly. “Does that seem better to y’all?”

I cried harder, nodding desperately as Widow wiped their eyes on the inside. “We love it.”

His fingers gently brushed my cheekbone, and he smiled. “I’m all for this display of emotion, Little Spider, but if you keep up like this, you’re going to be both incredibly dehydrated and incredibly drowned.”

And so it went, on and on. Every day was the same, made only bearable by the evenings spent being rewarded for our adherence. First level two, and then level three – and with it, my first mission.

“I can’t believe we’re back here,” I murmured, perched on a rooftop with my lover. Clint shot me a grin, full of shining eyes and pride as he handed me my fries.

“Sometimes it was hard to believe this day would ever come, right?” In the ten weeks since we had renegotiated my treatment plan, I’d been caught purging four times, and exercising twice. I’d eaten everything I’d been given, though, and was yet to put a blade to my skin.

“Definitely.” I dropped a mouthful of fries into my mouth, grinning around the salted carbs. “But here we are. Staking out a bad guy, sat on a rooftop, and eating fast-food.”

“Except now you actually eat it,” he added, smirking wryly. Our relationship had flourished along with my health – gone was the hesitation and the second-thoughts, replaced instead with our easy banter and light-hearted bullying.

And the sex.

Dear Lord, the sex.

I’d slowly become more confident, willing to try new things and excited about the possibilities we had before us. He never rushed us, taking the time to check in with both my own self-esteem issues and Widow’s traumatic anxiety.

The therapist – aptly named ‘Luna’ – had made our diagnosis official, and every Avenger now knew about the other person I shared my body with. Other than a few crude remarks from Tony – most of which had been directed at Clint and about threesomes – everybody else had adapted to the changes easily, swapping ‘y’all’ for ‘you’ when referring to us as a collective.

We were getting better at communicating, and sharing the body when desired, and I’d even relinquished control for a few quiet periods alone in our rooms, once we’d earned back the privilege.

Widow was slowly discovering the things they liked – exercise was still a huge part of their identity, but they’d also found endless comfort in fiction, content to curl up with a book while I took a break. They’d not interacted directly with Clint – or anybody else – since that fateful day, but I knew they were always there. Clint had suggested a date night, and they were terrified and excited about the concept – not ready yet to accept, but almost. I was a little jealous, admittedly – but I knew I had nothing to worry about. Widow was as inherent to the person Clint knew as I was, and it was only natural that he would love them, too.

“It’s been too long,” Clint sighed, resting his head in my lap and pressing a gentle kiss to my leather-clad thigh. “I’ve missed this. And I’ve definitely missed this suit,” he added with a purr, fingers tracing my side.

I giggled, slapping his hand away. “Focus on the mission, Barton. Save the monkey-business for after.” His lips found my throat, hooting softly like a chimp, and I squealed in his arms. “Clint, come on. We’re supposed to be-”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, standing with his hands on my thighs, sitting me on the building’s raised edge and sucking lightly on my pulse. I surrendered with a groan, fingers wrapped in his hair, every thought of our target immediately gone from my mind as my thighs wrapped around his hips.

He paused after a moment, drawing back slightly to rest his forehead on mine. “You're right. We… Have a mission. Sorry.”

He started to step away, one hand reaching for his bow, but paused when I pouted, playing with the zipper at my chest. “But Clint…” I whined, fingers inching down one tooth at a time. “We’re never away from the compound anymore. Why don’t we make the most of it?”

He swallowed, glancing over my shoulder at the city below. “We shouldn’t…”

I sighed, tipping my head back, my zipper moving ever lower. “I could really use some help getting out of this suit.”

My partner bobbed briefly on the balls of his feet, sparing one last look to where we’d last seen our mark, before he was back between my thighs, hands replacing mine frantically. “I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this."

I giggled as his hands slid inside my suit, grasping my waist. "You love it."

"Oh, you have no-”

Clint jerked in my arms, forceful and sudden, and I squealed as I almost toppled backward off the building. “Clint, are you trying to kill me?!”

No response.

“Clint?”

I smoothed my hand over his back to get his attention, drawing away when I found something hot and sticky on the back of his jacket. My trembling fingers cut into my eyeline, red and glistening.

No.

No.

My eyes shot up, finding the balding, middle-aged mark stood in the access doorway with sneer on his face and a gun in his hand.

Even with the silencer attached, I should have noticed.

Even with my distractions, I should have noticed.

I should have noticed.

I should have noticed.

I screamed, pure fury and heartbreak, wrenching my gun from my holster and putting a bullet between his eyebrows without flinching before he could react.

I carefully lowered my gasping partner to the ground, hands pressed hard to the wound in his abdomen before one darted to my ear, smearing blood on my cheek as I desperately pressed at my earpiece.

“Cap, Tony, Wanda- Fuck, anyone who’s listening! We need emergency evac! Get us out of here – now! Clint… Clint’s been shot.”

[theroastedwretch]

Across The Screen Part 1- A Note to Hacker Boy

Warnings- Threats, language

A/N- This takes place as part of Between the lines, sometime after Jake's return in episode 7 but before the end-of-chapter climax.

Index

Once he’d been able to take the time to finish NymOS and turn his attentions to going on the offensive rather than simply fending off the attacks, the number of attempts on MC’s phone had dropped off dramatically. His pursuers had all but stopped, in fact, likely satisfied to see that he’d been drawn out of hiding and confirming their suspicions about her importance.

Even the majority of amateur hackers who had merely seen her name alongside his own and viewed it as a challenge had died down. Either interest had dwindled with time, or word of his rather forceful response to the intrusions had made its way around enough to stymie curiosity somewhat. 

So it was first the surprise that stayed his hand from his instinct to automatically go nuclear when NymOS had alerted him to the most recent intrusion.

The second was the realization that the term “intrusion” was far too strong for what had been done. There were no attempts to access any of the data on the device, no malware or links or attempts to plant a door for later access.

It was a glorified text message, and nothing more.

The origin had done nothing to mask their identity, and while some of the would-be hackers had been impressively reckless and arrogant, none had been this incompetent so far. In fact, the source device didn’t even appear to run their free virus protection often enough. No hacker would leave themselves this open while checking their email, let alone while planning an attack.

The uncanny family resemblance he found during a quick scan only served to confirm the conclusion he was finally certain of as soon as he got the location data of the device.

“H.B.-We need to talk.-P”

Really, he should have been expecting this particular conversation for some time now.

Jake: H.B.?

Paige: Hacker Boy. I thought it was polite to use titles until we were formally introduced.

Sarcasm and barely contained hostility. Wonderful.

Jake: I will assume nicknames are a family trait, then. Jake: So, how can I be of assistance?

Paige: Well you can explain why my sister is worrying about cyber attacks and asking me to teach her to do her makeup disguises. That’d be a pretty good start.

He had truthfully only been aware of the attacks. True to his word, he had stopped looking into her messages with people outside of Duskwood quite a while back, only recently faltering when he’d seen the influx of conversations with Joe. 

Additionally, he’d never gotten into the habit of digging into her communications with Paige. He had struggled enough to get familiar with MC’s blunt, presumptuous manner without the additional layer of her sister’s excessively abrasive attitude. Between that, and the sisters’ fondness for using embarrassing life stories and uncomfortable innuendos to harass each other, reading their conversations had been one of the most intrusive he’d felt during his career as a hacker.

Jake: I hadn’t realized that she asked you for assistance with disguising herself, but I assure you that it’s wholly unnecessary. Jake: MC has a tendency toward wanting to have back up plans for every angle, which, while admirable, isn’t needed in this situation.

After the discovery of Hannah’s depression, and MC’s admission of the same, he’d begun to do research into the condition and had learned about the prevalence of anxiety as a coexisting condition. He had yet to ask and verify, but MC’s habit of catastrophizing and the need to predict everything that could possibly go wrong had fit the diagnosis rather well.

He’d firmly ignored the number of criteria he had fit as well. In his position, his behaviors were perfectly reasonable survival instincts, nothing more.

Paige: Sure, she does that, but if someone is after her, isn’t that a good thing? 

Jake: As I said, the precaution and concerns are unnecessary. Your worry is understandable, but I won’t allow anything to happen to her, I assure you.

Paige: Why is this even happening? Ever since she got involved with this Duskwood bullshit she’s been stressed, miserable, and getting harassed. Paige: And I’ve been waiting this whole time to learn one good reason that I shouldn’t sound the alarm and get my family and friends involved in hosting an intervention or taking her phone or something. Paige: And so far, other than her refusing to talk to me ever again, I’ve gotten absolutely nothing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a low groan. The conversation was going even more poorly than he would have predicted, and he’d had rather low expectations of his ability to handle MC’s sister to begin with.

He needed to weigh his options carefully. The last thing the investigation needed was yet another obstacle, and this obstinate woman could easily take on that role if he didn’t play his cards right. If he pushed her too far, it would cause stress to MC, or possibly remove her from the situation entirely. 

Hadn’t he already seen evidence of the havoc that sisters could wreak in protection of each other?

Jake: I will answer all of your questions to the best of my ability, within reason, on one condition.

Paige: Which is?

Jake: The program that I created to stop the attacks on MC’s phone is designed with a number of fail-safes to protect her, and admittedly myself. Jake: I cannot speak freely to an unprotected device.  Jake: It will also allow her to more openly confide in you, which I believe she would appreciate. Jake: I will not use it to monitor your communications, location, or activities in any way. I have no interest in your life outside of your importance to MC.

There was a relatively lengthy pause. While he was impatient to get through, and end, this conversation, he could understand her hesitation. Not everyone could be expected to offer up their lives freely the way MC had done rather foolishly. She was too trusting by half, and it filled him with warmth at the same time it terrified him.

He tapped his fingers on the desk as he waited, regretting that he’d severed the connection to the device upon discovering that it belonged to her. He’d gotten rather reliant on knowing what the other person in a conversation was doing that caused the delay in response, and he found it even more difficult to navigate without the additional information.

Paige: I don’t believe you’ve ever spoken freely in your life, dude. Paige: This is going to void my warranty, isn’t it?

Jake snorted despite himself. Apparently the rather unfortunate sense of humor ran in the family as well. It was less charming when layered in acid and not coming from MC, but it felt familiar regardless.

Jake: Only if they can find it. And they won’t.

Paige: Whatever, what do I need to do?

It was a matter of almost no time at all to get NymOS installed on her device, and he was surprised to see she’d added it to both her laptop and cell phone almost immediately. Either she was insatiably curious or she trusted MC’s judgment more than she let on. Regardless, he appreciated that she was cognizant of where the leaks could come from.

Once the system was fully online, he returned to the chat and asked something that had been bothering him since the conversation started.

Jake: I had been under the impression that your computer literacy was relatively basic. How did you manage to send the message and alert NymOS?

Paige: I have a friend who’s good at tech and was willing to help me out. Paige: Or rather, he was willing to help MC out. Not enough to stay once he saw some of the comments on Lilly’s video— guess he thought you could do something to his phone just by him being on the same network as me

Jake: I’ve been purging those as they appear, where were you able to find one at this point?

Paige: I’ve got screen grabs, Hacker Boy. And don’t think about deleting them, I have backups. I downloaded your weird murder bot so you’re going to accept that I’m keeping what little leverage I have in this situation Paige: You think I can’t see how fucked the power dynamic in your relationship is? 

Jake: I don’t believe MC sees it that way.

Paige: Yeah, because she’s naive and wants to think the best of you. 

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing. She wasn’t entirely wrong. If he were more of the vindictive sort, his skills would allow him to keep MC in a precarious position. But she was overlooking the fact that MC could walk into any police station, hand in her phone, and receive full immunity for any crime she’d participated in on top of protection from him in the blink of an eye.

And it was a trap he’d almost certainly fall for.

Paige didn’t need to know that, however, so he tried a different track to reassure her.

Jake: I have no intention or desire to hurt MC in any way, least of all through taking advantage of the trust she has granted me.

Paige: You’ve already hurt her pretty bad, you know.

He supposed it made sense that she knew about it, MC would guard his secrets around his identity fiercely, but likely needed emotional support at times during their early association. 

Jake: My intention had been to protect her and avoid everything that has happened since then. I underestimated both her feelings and my own, as interpersonal relationships aren’t my strong suit.

Paige: Wow is that an understatement.

Jake: I won’t try to convince you that I will never hurt her again with that particular failing of mine. But that risk exists in all relationships, not just this one.

Paige: What do you want from her? 

Jake flinched back like he’d been hit. Her blunt phrasing, along with the unexpected confrontational question sent him reeling for a moment. 

Jake: At the moment, I’d appreciate her continued assistance in finding Hannah as her involvement has been invaluable.  Jake: Beyond that, I ask you to trust that my intentions aren’t nefarious, I’m not using or manipulating her to get what I want. Jake: I would prefer to leave it there for now. Forgive me but I believe it’s a conversation best held with MC first, though I know that may not be of much comfort for you.

Paige: I… damn it, I want to tell you that’s not good enough but that’s actually reasonable.  Paige: Why are you even involved, then? She got pulled in, but Lilly’s video makes it seem like you inserted yourself.

His first instinct was to sidestep, or even shut down the conversation entirely, but when had his first instinct worked lately? Being reckless would ruin everything, but making the wrong move could cost him both Hannah and MC.

Jake: My involvement in Hannah’s disappearance is due to the same motivation that led you to this conversation.

Paige: MC? That makes no sense. Paige: Oh. Paige: OH.

He watched her type and delete several times, presumably gathering her thoughts as she came to terms with what she’d just discovered. He was actually somewhat impressed— he’d expected her to take longer to come to that conclusion. He was starting to think he had underestimated her.

Her next message seemed to confirm that she’d come to the correct conclusion.

Paige: Aw fuck, that means if this thing between you two works out I’m stuck playing nice with Lilly, doesn’t it? Paige: I get to punch her at least once. It’s only fair. 

He couldn’t deny that he and MC had both somewhat waved away the consequences of Lilly’s actions to the girl out of understanding of her motivations. Paige, however, seemed much more in line with Lilly’s reactions and it was likely that if they ever met, it would be a rather loud and potentially violent confrontation.

Jake: I leave that between you three, frankly. I will not get involved, only ask that you keep MC’s best interest at heart since she was the one the video impacted, not you.

Paige: I wanted this conversation to involve a lot more yelling and make me less frustrated, not more. Paige: If you fuck her over, I don’t care what I have to do to make you pay, I’ll figure something out. Paige: Like you said, you’re way too emotionally constipated to never hurt her, so I won’t even ask for that. But this isn’t a game to her and it can’t be to you. Paige: She’s too kind for her own good. She’d jump in front of a bullet for people she cares about, and as much as I don’t like it, that involves you jokers now too. Paige: Especially when her mental health is in the toilet like this, she sees herself as expendable compared to others and this shit is already fucked up enough that she might try something stupid. 

He was sorely tempted to take the conversation off track and demand elaboration on the description of MC’s mental state. He was beginning to get more familiar with MC’s personality and quirks, enough that while he still couldn’t read her emotions, he could recognize patterns and tie them to previous situations. 

But something like her overall health would be much harder to learn, and he’d come across multiple instances of times where something would indicate that she was doing poorly, only for her to mask it as needed. 

That was a conversation for another day, and he could only hope that Paige would cooperate when the time came.

Jake: I have already asked her not to come to Duskwood, but she refused to promise that. I know she cares deeply for her friends there and as things get more complicated, I worry about the choices she may make as well.  Jake: And I’m confident that you would be able to come up with something to make me pay. I’m well aware of the impact you had on the campaign she and Lilly implemented to distract my pursuers. Jake: I should have expressed gratitude sooner. Jake: It’s another reason I wanted to install NymOS to protect you. You’re the most important person to her, and she’s the most important to me. 

Transitive property, he recalled with a laugh, but kept that to himself knowing she wouldn’t understand the reference.

Paige: Alright, I’ve had enough of this for one day, go do creepy Jake stuff or whatever. Just remember what I said.

Jake: And I thank you for keeping what you’ve learned today private. I’d prefer not to come to regret this conversation.

Paige: Yep. See ya Hacker Boy.

Before he had time to close out of the application, he received an alert from spy mode that he was relatively certain he was intended to see.

Paige: Your boy fitted me out with his stalker robot. Paige: I hope he knows I have no money.

MC: Wait, WHAT?

And with that, Jake had already come to regret the conversation.

[millylouedward]

The Very Best Books of 2023

I read 52 books in 2023, and that basically means I can do anything with a strong enough will.

I told myself if I couldn't complete my Goodreads reading challenge this year, I would never amount to anything in life. I would grow old and die and I would not ever be able to say I accomplished anything, because if I couldn't meet this one goal, I would never meet any.

The good news is, I read all 52 books and finished with a month to spare. As it turns out, I am not worthless nor incapable of accomplishment. Yay!

The bad news is, I read a lot of really good books this year. In fact, 61% of the books I read I rated 4 stars or higher. We're going to have to get really serious right now if I'm going to pick only 5 of those 32 Really Good Books.

Here are some of my criteria for Very Best Book of the year:

I remember the story (I'm very forgetful so this is important)

I had a strong emotional reaction to the story

The writing was strong, vibrant, and interesting

The story kept me constantly hooked

Alright, now that that's decided, let's get into it.

5. We Do What We Do In The Dark (Michelle Hart)

This book had me so messed up after I read it. It's like the depressed queer woman anthem. I'm not a big fan of mental health literature like My Year of Rest and Relaxation or The Bell Jar, but I think the addition of another intriguing character who both feeds into the main character Mallory's issues and heals them at the same time created a sense of intrigue for me. We Do What We Do in the Dark is full of beautiful, alluring prose that makes my little literary heart sing and balances out the weight of the obsession Mallory builds for the professor as she fights her own loneliness.

This story stuck with me, really. The relationship between the professor and Mallory is complicated and problematic yet meaningful and sensual and artistic. And don't get me started on the cover. I'm a sucker for paintings as covers for books, and the cover designed by Jaya Miceli is fantastic.

The reason why I leave at the bottom of my top books is that I didn't have a strong emotional reaction to the story. I loved it, I thought it was poignant and profound, I thought about it for months after reading it. But it just didn't quite draw out of me anything deeper than those feelings. And that's okay. This is not a book that is meant to make your eyes go wide and your jaw drop. It's meant to make the reader curious in the best way.

4. Atalanta (Jennifer Saint)

You say Greek myth feminist retelling, I say, SAY LESS.

Atalanta is a powerful retelling of the only woman of the Argonauts on their journey to retrieve the golden fleece. After being raised by bears and adopted by Artemis (goals) she is thrown into a world she's never known when the goddess asks her to join the quest in her name. Our girl Atalanta has to fight vicious creatures both human and non, survive extreme conditions, and make it back to Artemis without breaking her vow of chastity.

I found Atalanta to be heartbreaking and magical at the same time. I was frightened by the horrors she faces yet constantly curious about what the fate of her life with Artemis would be. The writing is beautiful and dynamic. Every character is fully fleshed out and presented flawlessly. I'm pretty sure I cried at the end.

I put this one at number 4 because the first chapter was hella boring. Like, borderline DNF boring. It's not the author's fault, nor is it mine. It's full of exposition that you need in order to understand everything else that's about to happen. I struggled to get through it. But starting right at the beginning of chapter 2, it became increasingly better.

3. In The Dream House (Carmen Maria Machado)

I went into In The Dream House expecting a fictional thriller. I didn't read the blurb. And I was pleasantly surprised when I was wrong.

This memoir is powerful, absurd, inventive. Once I started it I couldn't put it down. The nameless antagonist fills the reader with dread and fear every time they enter the page. It begs questions about the woman in the dream house's intentions and fears. Who is she, really? What brought her to become the monster under the bed in the author's life?

I absolutely loved the structure of the memoir. It's creative and thoughtful. It feels as if the author is dissecting her story to understand it better, putting it under different lenses in hopes that something microscopic will be revealed and explain all the pain she's been through.

This memoir is so profound to me. If I could forget it all and read it for the first time again, I would do so in a heartbeat.

2. The Hike (Drew Magary)

"Every moment I become more confused and concerned" -Milly, at 61.15% into The Hike

I know what you're thinking. Milly, how could you let a male author on your list of the very best books? You probably aren't really thinking that. But I am. How could I? I am a devoted women's lit reader. I love the way women write way more than men. I crave the emotion and the depth that is often lacking in male-written novels. I'm sorry but it's true.

That changed when I read The Hike. Nothing about this story is predictable or sensical. It is wild and painful and scary and funny and absurd. I can only describe it as a blend of The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, The Good Place, and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I'm still thinking about how shocked I was at the ending. I can't even begin to explain (pun intended).

The narrative follows a man who goes out for a short hike and ends up on a years long journey as he tries to get back to his family. It sounds very yawn, I know. But his journey is full of odd creatures that don't make sense, like a talking sea creature and a cannibalistic giant and dog-faced bad guys. All the while, he is trying to make his way to the "Producer," the only person who can release him from the path and return him to his family.

The Hike is easily one of the best books I've ever read.

1. Carrie Soto is Back (Taylor Jenkins Reid)

I picked up this book because of the cover. Who is Carrie Soto? What is she coming back from? With her head tilted towards a golden glow, bathing her in the color, the reader can imagine that this is a story about a woman with serious power (cue Money, Power, Glory by Lana Del Rey).

And the reader would be right. Carrie Soto is the bet tennis player in the world, until her body begins to slow her down and she is forced to retire. Then, when a young tennis star puts Carrie at risk of losing everything she worked for, she returns to the game to defend her title one last time.

Can I just say, I love good boss bitch main character. I love the women who just don't give a fuck, who are not here to put up with anyone's shit, who want to win and say fuck you all and go home. Carrie Soto is my woman.

Taylor Jenkins Reid delivered a riveting, edge of your seat story in Carrie Soto is Back, and does so with a fantastic writing style. The narrative jumps back and forth between Carrie Soto growing up as a young tennis player to her as an adult in the 90s preparing to face off against Nicki Chan.

What I love so much about this book is that it makes the reader question why we treat women in the public eye the way we do. It asks the reader to consider what we really want when we want fame and money and success. What does any of it mean when we have no one?

You can imagine how sad I was when I realized I'd just finished the best book of this year in MARCH. I sat there on my couch thinking there is absolutely no way I will find a book that makes me feel the way Carrie Soto is Back did. Ugh. If y'all have recommendations. Send them my way for 2024.

[subsystems]

Hi, advice ask... For what's relevant, I have ocd + newly discovered did but trying to not have multiplicity be a big matter everyday. reframing my state as purely identity alteration with dissociation+coping mechanisms, "not a system just multiple", just one person multiple identities, etc... but for some reason ever single night we struggle to sleep because obsessing/ruminating over "what am i really/who am i really?", or trying to force fusion or further separation, or just. a lot more. and. idk if you have any sources for ocd+osddid or how to get over the obsessing over diagnosis/discovery stage. at this point i don't care what i am, system or singlet, I just want help. note i do take medication but some problems slip through the cracks + am trying to get a therapist so this ask is more in search of temporary help... thank you

Hey, thanks for reaching out anon. 💚 I'm so sorry that you've been struggling with these things. It sounds really tough. It's great that you're in the process of finding a therapist! You deserve to have someone in your life to support you through this time.

You might find the book Coping with Trauma-related Dissociation helpful. It's a self-help book for people like us who experience trauma-related dissociation. You'll find a free download of the book (and many others) in this google drive! Here's a quote from the first chapter:

"In this manual we have tried to offer practical help for you to cope with symptoms of dissociation that trouble you, rather than to focus on diagnosis. Of course, diagnosis is important, because it provides a map for you and your therapist to follow so that you get proper help. But because the diagnostic criteria change from time to time, and there are even legitimate disagreements about these criteria, it is probably most helpful for you to focus on what will aid you in resolving the dissociation that hampers your life, rather than to worry too much about your diagnosis."

You don't have to focus on a diagnostic label or even have a diagnosis in order to use resources that help the issues you're facing. It's always okay to use mental health resources that help you. This link has a bunch of resources, books, & websites that you might find useful!

You're more than welcome to browse my resources & coping tags too!

If you do anything, though, please read this article by Carolyn Spring. It helped me feel less worried about my label... Maybe it'll help you?

"I think it’s something that has been instilled into our consciousness, with an emphasis from the medical model, that everything we suffer should have a name and be called a syndrome or a disorder. It’s as if we can only cope with our suffering if we alienate it and call it names."

Good luck with everything! Hang in there!

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

12/19/2022 DAB Chronological Transcription

Titus 1 - 3

Today is the 19th day of December. Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm Jill. It's my joy, my complete honor to be here with you in this final week of my time with you as China lead's you home through December into a brand new year and a brand, brand new month and a brand new page turn as we will start all over again next year. But first, we must stay present. And here and here we are ready to allow God's word to speak to us, wash over us, sink down and settle into some of the cracks and crevices that we have allowed, maybe too wide of a gap. And it's time to seal them up and allow God to heal those places in our heart that need to be healed to move us and shake us out of our comfortability and into the deep with Him. Today, we are reading Titus chapters one, two, and three. And this week we're reading the Common English Bible. Titus, chapter one.

Commentary

Okay, so as we wind our way through the end of the Bible in chronological order, we find ourselves beginning and finishing the Book of Titus today. So, a bit of reference to orient ourselves from The God of Your Story. Today, we began Paul's letter to Titus, the third of the pastoral letters. As we've previously discussed, these are personal letters to specific men to whom Paul had entrusted much. They were sons in the faith to Paul. Titus was an early convert through the Apostle Paul's ministry and was a part of it thereafter. He was trusted enough to accompany Paul and Barnabas to Jerusalem to attend the Jerusalem Council referred to in the Book of Acts. This was the council where church leaders were making a pivotal decision about whether conversion to Judaism, including male circumcision, was required for Gentiles to be accepted into the community of Christ. Titus was a Gentile at this Jewish Council, and his presence was instrumental in the outcome. Ironically, Titus isn't mentioned in the Book of Acts. We know him only through Paul's letters. The most likely scenario for this letter is that Paul was released from his first imprisonment in Rome, and Titus subsequently accompanied Paul to the island of Crete in order to share the Good News. The message of Jesus had apparently never been introduced to Cretans, who were notoriously carnal. When Paul preached there, new faith sprang up, and Paul left Titus to form leadership among the churches and to navigate the cultural clash already happening among the believers. Titus was suited for this work. Paul had sent him as an ambassador carrying several letters into complicated situations. Paul sent this letter to Titus on the island of Crete after he departed, about the same time that he wrote the personal letter that we know now as First Timothy. The letter was intended to encourage Titus and also to give him apostolic authority in writing. In other words, Titus was authorized to act in paul's name organizing the newly formed communities on Crete. In doing this, Titus would need to appoint pastors and deacons. So Paul gave criteria for those who seek ordained ministry, as he did in his first letter to Timothy. The Book of Titus is an intimate look at the instructions given from a spiritual father to his spiritual son, who had been commissioned to do a big job in a short amount of time. But Titus had been faithful and successful in all that Paul had asked him to do, and Paul wanted Titus to be empowered and confident in the task at hand. Today, most denominations throughout the world consult the letter to Titus for their ordination process. It is a treasured letter for those in spiritual leadership and continues to give us insights into the formation and advancement of our faith. So that orients us to what is happening and gives us a little bit of insight of the relevancy of the letter, the specifics of who this is to, and then we take from that what we can apply to our own lives. And so what really hits me today is a final chapter, realizing this is the Common English Bible version avoid stupid controversies, genealogies and fights about the law because they are useless and worthless. I mean, that's good advice. No matter who you are, no matter what you believe, avoid stupid controversies. Why give life to wasted, empty controversies? And if you really just take a minute and sit with some of the arguments that you have been a part of, that we have been a part of, that we have engaged, that we have given time and attention and life to, and then ask ourselves, is this worthy of kingdom advancement? Does this have any application to further the kingdom of heaven? Will I get to the heart of the person I'm arguing with by what I'm saying, how I'm saying it, and how I am responding? And usually the answer is no. We would save ourselves a lot of time, a lot of anger, a lot of anxiety if we just avoid stupid controversies. I can so appreciate plain language.

Prayer

So, Father, we do thank you for your word today. We thank you for plain English, and we thank you for passages such as this that help us look into our own lives deeper and see what we are spending our time, our energy, our life on. And is this giving life, producing life? Or am I expelling unnecessary energy, time and life and producing nothing good, no good fruit? And so it's a hard truth to sit with, but a necessary truth that we should all sit with and examine our own hearts. I pray that we would take these words and apply them to where they need applied and make changes from the inside out that only you can do within us through the help and the power of your spirit. And we thank you that it's available, it's accessible, and that it changes us. You change us for good. We pray this now in the name of the Father, your Son and your Spirit, amen.

Announcements

Daily Audio Bible, that's home base. Check it out. If you have not, check out the app. Take a look around the store. Lots of great resources there and products intended to enhance your journey through the Bible. Also, we're winding down this year and we're beginning to start a brand new one. And many of you know how this goes. But if you have found this resource life changing and you want others to be changed, just reach out to people that you think might benefit from being in the Word every single day and let them know about it. Go through the journey with friends I know, even family members. In fact, I have a former teacher from my young childhood, my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Flowers that I found out his entire family went through the Daily Audio Bible together and they stayed in a constant text and they just talked about what the scriptures said to them that day, what they heard, how it hit them. And I found out later, and it just hit me in a way I can't describe, because my teacher, probably the most influential teacher in my life, just a kind hearted man, was transformed through reading the Bible with his family and has since went on to be with the Lord. But that story just really struck me. And then I thought what a great thing for families to do to be able to go through the Word together. And man, you get into some stuff. I can imagine you could get into some stuff of those family dynamics and those patterns that you set from really young and just seeing each other differently, doing things differently, unlearning some things that you learned, maybe not so good things, but the point is what a great thing for families to do together. So maybe that'll be you. If you would like to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you so much for your partnership. We could not do this without you and that's the truth. If you're giving by mail, DAB PO Box 1996 Spring Hill, Tennessee 37174. Or utilizing that app, you can hit the Give icon. It's up at the top right hand corner. And lastly, you look for the Give icon on the website if you need prayer. If you'd like to pray for someone that's previously called in several different ways for you to do so. 800 583-2164, or once again utilizing that app, hit the red circle button up at the top right hand corner of your mobile device. You have two minutes on the prayer line. Hit your wheel to Chronological after you hit Submit and it will get to the right place. That's going to do it for me today. I'm Jill. This final week together of my time with you, I'm going to try real hard not to be emotional, but it's been an incredible journey together and I look forward to turning the page together tomorrow and being with you all, Lord willing. And the creek don't rise. I'm Jill. Until then, love one another.

Community Prayer Line

Good morning, family. This is your sister Kim in Kentucky, and it's Friday, December the 16th, and I'm just calling in to just say thank you to the ones who do transcribing for DABC. I know it's done for DAB as well. And for those of you that don't know, you can go on to Tumblr and find it because December the fourth, Jill's reading on December the fourth, 2nd Corinthians one through four. There was so much of it that resonated with me and I took some little notes and finally today I was able to go back and reread and copy down my notes more fully. But she had a prayer at the end that I didn't get, and I went back to Tumblr and found the transcription for that day and her prayer. And so, God, just bless those Father that are behind the scenes. We don't know their names, but you see them, you are with them as they are listening and transcribing and putting that on Tumblr for other people. They are your servants, Lord, and I know they will be rewarded for their faithfulness in serving you and serving this community. Just bless each and everyone that has called in this week with their needs. Father, you know God, when it's about healing in our body, in our souls, in our spirits, Lord, and you are a God of restoration, and you are the way Maker. And may we keep our eyes fixed upon you above the situations and circumstances we are in, but lifting higher to where you sit and where we sit with you, jesus, in Jesus name I pray. Amen.

This message is for Candy, unraveled by God's love. I think she said you called in on December 12. This is Amanda Nebraska, forgiven child of God, and I just want to say thank you for calling in and commenting in your prayers and your grace and suggestions. It was very meaningful and great insight and I really appreciate that. Like you, I pray as others are calling in. I don't do well of calling in for specific prayer requests for others like I sometimes feel I should. But when God lays it on my heart, that's what I do. I pray. Everyone has a wonderful day. I love this community. I love everything about it. Thank you.

All right, family, this is Adrian from Maryland, who's mighty tortoise. I have a request. Next Friday, my son and I and Sammy, my husband's final dog, Tom's final dog are going to Massachusetts. Sammy belongs to Mark now, but we're going to Massachusetts to be with Megan Jared, my daughter and son in law, for Christmas. We're leaving Maxi home because she doesn't do the car well, so she's going to stay home with hannah, her teenage two legged teenage best friend. But I have some anxiety that the weather is not supposed to be good next Thursday night. We're supposed to get one to three inches of snow. Anything could happen. It's Friday now, the Friday, the week before, so anything can happen. Why they can change. But I'm just anxious right now about getting on the road next Friday. And so I just need prayers, please, to calm my heart down, because I just need prayers. I'm just anxious, and I'm not usually anxious like this. So if you guys could please pray for me, I would really appreciate it. Maxine needs me, and Meg and Jared need us. Please just pray for us. Think for a safe trip up and a safe trip back. We're traveling from Bob, Baltimore up to right outside of Boston, and next Friday right before Christmas and then coming home the day after Christmas. And I'll let you guys know how it goes. Thank you so much. This is your friend, Adrian. I love you.

[mariamga2024mi4017]

Research on Patsey's character

08/09/2024

Hi everyone! I'm going to get started on my research for the characters. To be honest, I was feeling quite overwhelmed in trying to figure out how I'm going to do my research for Patsey, Northup, and Epps. But, I've decided to do the research in the following manner.

First off, I will be starting with Patsey's character!

Why did Lupita Nyong'o (actress) win the Academy Award for 'best supporting actress' in 2014?

what were the changes made by Steve Mcqueen in portraying her character? (novel patsey vs film patsey )

What does patsey's character represent?

what makes her such a significant character in the film?

What is her past?

Now I feel less overwhelmed in carrying out the research for Patsey's character. I feel like these questions are the main things that need to be answered through the research, and I should be able to get all the answers soon.

Question 1

To answer this question, I read through the below-linked article to find all the answers. After reading through it, I've made a note of the information that would be relevant to the presentation. Reading through this article helped me understand the criteria in selecting the winner out of all the great nominees.

Even while watching the film, I personally noticed Lupita Nyong'o's talent in portraying Patsey's pain and sorrows. It was difficult to sit through the whipping scene and even the scene after when we see Patsey's wounds and her struggle to deal with the pain. It was overwhelming to watch.

Question 2

Although it took me a bit of time to read through this article and dissect all the information displayed, I'm so thankful I was able to find it. This article basically answered most of the questions I had written down to analyze Patsey's character and understanding her significance in the film.

This article also contributed to my understanding of McQueen's choice of making Patsey's character more important in the film than she is in Solomon's memoir.

What helped me to understand Patsey's significance in the film was the comparison made between Northup and Patsey in the article. We as the audience in a way relate to Solomon at the beginning of the film because we are all freemen/freewomen. We follow along Solomon's journey of slavery and understand the harshness he had to face. However, Patsey's character shows us an even more brutal and grotesque reality of slavery. The side of slavery that is difficult to witness or speak about is portrayed through her character. This is mainly because Solomon is only a temporary slave, whereas Patsey is a Permanent slave.

Question 5 (It's also linked to Question 2)

Now it's time to have a look at the Novel Patsey. McQueen had his own artistic choices of portraying Patsey's character without mentioning any background.

Northup's memoir however gives the readers a chance to look at Patsey's past.

Chapter 13 -

Notes I wrote down while reading chapter 13 -

Chapter 14 -

These 2 chapters gives the readers an insight to both Patsey's past and present situation.

In chapter 13, we learn about Patsey first being a slave to a rather kind master named Buford who later on fell into debt and had to sell her along with some of her companions to Epps.

We also learn a bit about her personality. Solomon describes her being a joyous girl with a good temper. We also get a description of quickness and sharpness in getting work done.

The chapter ends with a description of her current state of having to suffer from a lustful master (Epps) and a jealous mistress. (Mrs. Epps)

In chapter 14 we get a description of the brutal punishments Patsey had to face from her drunken master. Her drunk master would do this in order to please his jealous wife.

We also get a description of how Mrs. Epps used to like Patsey as a child and would treat her like a pet. However, jealousy would later change Mrs. Epps view of Patsey.

That's all for this post. Thank you for reading.

[glapplebloom]

If any Princess needs more meat, it's Cadance... (No pictures)

The Annual Hearts and Hooves Day Heartsong is today but things aren't going as planned. Instead of a big crowd, a case of the Pony Sniffles made a large number of ponies bedridden. To make matters worse, this was after Flurry Heart broke the crystal so this was to make sure the Crystal Heart was fully charged before the Cold North could take over again. Then they have lyrics to a song with no music.

But it seems the Heartsong was more than enough despite the less people around. After all, the others may be sick at home but they can still send their love. But before they can go back home, it seems a group of ponies want to meet Cadance. So she sends Shining and Flurry home to meet these ponies. One of them is Lilac Quartz, who talks and talks and talks. 

Cadance remembers her since she prides herself in remembering the name of everyone she met, including the pony who runs the Crystal Crown Cafe. The others are Rose Water (who seems to have a thing for Shining), Olivine Jewel (who is now at the most dreadful age: a teenager), and Olivine's friends. So you can guess Olivine is a moody Teenager who thinks everything sucks and all that. And totally a coincidence, the Crystal Heart is dying.

So before we continue, Chapter 2 reveals two things: 1- Cadance has a tendency to see the future every once in a while. Not on demand, but enough to give her pause when she gets one. And today she got two, one of them is a grassy garden in the Crystal Empire during the Spring. The other, and most important thing: Cadance is sloppy and tends to leave things around. No, she doesn’t expect other ponies to pick them up, she’s just messy.

After a quick charge, regrouping with Shining and another vision, Cadance got a game plan: if the first vision is showing her the Crystal Heart dimming, she has to make sure the second vision, where it's a bright and sunny spring, does happen. So she’s going to do something that will make sure ponies in the Empire are so filled with love and light they would never have to worry about the Crystal Heart again. 

It’s Heartsong 2.0, only bigger and better! She was hoping for Shining Armor’s help, but Princess Celestia requests for Shining Armor to host the Royal Guard Recruitment Trials early. So he hopes that Cadance can get help because he knows how much she likes to do things on her own. Which would explain why Twilight is like how she is. And it gets worse when she sees the Garden in her vision turn out to be a mess in reality.

She thinks she could handle this, but hours later, she realizes she doesn’t have much experience in landscaping or gardening. She needs help. So when a tour group of Teenagers arrived, it reminded her of her Canterlot days where she led the same type of people and they only got excited when they did something. So two and two together and you got the solution to both issues, right? 

Well, the students were excited. Except Olivine: who didn’t want to help, thinks they should get professionals to help, and is ignored. Totally a coincidence the Heart is dying. And Cadance was also helping when she could, but being royalty means you have other duties to attend to. And this gets Olivine’s attention. She thinks they’re being forced to do something that’s fruitless. Because she thinks it would never be as good as it was before Sombra.

To prove to two ponies, she takes them to her Grandpa’s house to show them what it was like. One of them, Star Seed, read a book while Olivine was looking for her evidence. They read about a flower called a Lazilily, which supposedly filled ponies with lethargy. If that ain’t a foreshadow I don’t know what is. What Olivine wanted to get was some seeds. They’re gonna plant it in the garden, which makes me think the book and the seeds are related.

How could they do that? Well, Cadance is allowing creative freedom, so they could do what they want as long as it fits the criteria. So they could plant whatever they want or make the bush animals anything they want. And it seems this is working. While Shining is worried it may be too much, between the students having fun in the garden and the parade float the ponies spirits are being uplifted. While the real Crystal Heart is still weakening, this had to work.

But things aren't all cozy and grand. Petal Shine has a case of the giggles and she's been like it for hours. Luckily Cadance can cure that (meaning she could reverse Joker Toxin). But this was something she needed to solve, so after hearing Petal's last memories, she decided to investigate the matter. While she does that, Shining Armor is giving the would-be guards an endurance test of Simon Says. The last pony still following commands wins. 

I say this because after that, Cadance was there to talk to her husband. Back to the Garden, it seems to be working as despite the actual Celebration being a few days away, the ponies of the Crystal Empire wanted to see how it looked now. But it seems something is off as the ponies seem to be humming like bees. Olivine’s plants were the culprit as she did it to get back at Princess Cadance for making them do the work.

Since nobody was giving answers, Cadance was able to put two and two together and figured out Olivine was behind this. The Princess blames herself and goes to talk with the Teenager about it. Too bad things are getting worse and even the spell Cadance used before was not working now. So the vision she had before? It was about this: the giggling she thought was good was because it was out of control.

Trying to find Olivine led to the Cafe, where we find out Olivine’s mother’s friends are the parents of Olivine’s two friends who helped her with this mess. Eventually they led to the Grandpa who knew they were at his house but didn’t think they took anything important. Too bad they did and they were dangerous flowers. And because he’s so old, he doesn’t remember how to solve the problem. So Cadance has to find Olivine and friends and hopefully stop this before the Cold North takes them all for good...

And that’s where we’ll end the recap. Except for the fact that during this time Sunburst was visiting Starlight Glimmer. This was over a year before Uncommon Bound, which was the only episode that had him visiting her. So while this was happening, he was setting up for the Pillars to come back. Overall, while not as good as Celestia’s book, it is nice to see Cadance get some stuff to herself.

Her memorization of all the citizens of the Crystal Empire (which was used in the IDW Book), the future visions which works just as well as Garnet’s (for better and worse), her being able to figure out what was happening thanks to that photogenic memory of hers. While Celestia still had the best of the three Princesses, at least Cadance got something to call her own.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 YOUNG GOD

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: after an agonizing two weeks, dazai finally returns to you and a much needed conversation takes place. {wordcount: 11.6k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT INSTALLMENT 5 ALREADY!!! this is so bittersweet i'm literally about to cry, i hope you guys have enjoyed badlands and i hope y'all join me for unreal unearth next week!! i got to add one of my favorite quotes in this chapter hehe you guys get extra points if you spot it. reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!

WARNINGS: explicit mentions of past suicide attempts + past self harm & scars

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

Dazai is exhausted. His ears ring and his bones ache, his feet are unsteady beneath him and his body pleads for him to rest. Around him, the other members of the Agency are ecstatic, he thinks he’s gotten more hugs in the past hour than he’s gotten in his entire life. A part of him feels warm—he feels like he belongs, and his place in the Agency has always been one that he’s questioned. On bad nights, he used to think that the last place he truly belonged was on one of those three bar stools all those years ago, that being a member of the Agency—more than just in name, actually being a member—was nothing but an unattainable dream, because how could he possibly belong amongst people who are so unfailingly good that it makes his tainted heart stick out like a sore thumb? 

But now, Atsushi cries in relief at the sight of him and Yosano wraps him in a hug so tight that his already brittle bones threaten to snap; Kunikida’s throat spasms as he squeezes Dazai’s shoulder and Kenji and Kyouka throw themselves into his arms. Naomi and Haruno cling to his hands, while Tanizaki tears up in front of him with balled fists as he tells him that he’s missed him. Ranpo shoots him a wild grin and a salute and Fukuzawa pats the top of his head telling Dazai that he’s proud of him, and Dazai thinks he might cry because he feels like he’s finally found a home. 

An incomplete home, but a home nonetheless. 

Because even as he recounts his side of the story, watching hazily as Kunikida writes it all down, his mind is barely connected to his own body. His body feels prickly and his mind is muddled with fatigue, his brain throbs so painfully that he thinks he might actually be dying. He’s overwhelmed and anxious—the strain that the constant games of misdirection and manipulations with Dostoevsky has placed on him is finally becoming too much for him to handle. He’s on the verge of collapse and he needs to be somewhere he feels safe before that happens, and there’s only one place—one person—that fits that criteria.

You. 

He doesn’t even register what’s happening as Kunikida, Yosano and Atsushi help Dazai out of the office and into the back of Kunikida’s car. Atsushi sits with him in the back seat as Kunikida and Yosano take the front—they’re driving him somewhere, but Dazai isn’t even entirely sure where, and his tongue feels too heavy in his mouth for him to even ask. Atsushi is talking to him, he might even be telling Dazai where they’re going but the words sound like a distant hum and as he tries to read the boy’s lips, it all just seems blurry and unfocused. 

He doesn’t even know if you’re okay. 

Queen captured.

The words ring in his head over and over again as they have since the moment Dostoevsky uttered them aloud, but he doesn’t know what Dostoevsky’s capture of you entailed. He doesn’t know if you were killed. You could have been killed. If Dostoevsky had a lover, a weakness that Dazai could target, then they would have been the first person that Dazai aimed to take out to throw the Russian off of his game, and he would show no mercy. You could be dead, for all he knows; no one in the Agency had mentioned whether or not they knew if you were okay, or if they had, Dazai hadn’t heard it. 

You could be dead. 

Dazai’s vision spins again, his stomach lurches as Kunikida takes a turn too wide—he can’t keep himself grounded no matter how hard he tries. He wants to tell Kunikida that he needs to see you, he needs to get to your apartment complex and make sure you’re there, and if you’re not, he needs to talk to your neighbors and make sure you’re at least okay. Until he does that, he can’t rest, no matter how much his body begs him to give in. 

He loves you. He’s sure of it now. He knew it before he left you two weeks ago. He thinks he might have known it all the way back then on the night you rescued him at the shore, when you woke up in the middle of the night and sat with him on the couch after making him hot chocolate. He thinks he fell in love with the bright smile that lifted to your lips when he took a sip of the drink you made him and you realized he enjoyed it—no one has ever looked so happy to see him happy with something before, no one has ever cared enough about him for that.

He is so completely and irrevocably in love with you that Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to live in a world without you. The thought alone makes his skin crawl and his chest cave in. Before he met you, he had long accepted that he was destined to be alone, that he wasn’t a human but instead a thing caught between monster and man—he had accepted that he was incapable of loving, and even more so, that he was incapable of being loved. 

You had changed his perspective on everything, you had changed it so absolutely that Dazai doesn’t think there’s any going back to how he once viewed the world, how he once viewed himself. He’s started looking forward to sunrises, if it means he could watch them with you. He’s found himself looking around Yokohama and seeing places to take you rather than scouting out places for possible attempts. God, he’s even saving his money—Dazai Osamu has never saved money in his life because he hoped that each day would hopefully be his last. He’s blow it on alcohol and food and stupid trinkets that he didn’t need, but now, he’s caught himself putting aside some of his paychecks so he can save up for a nicer apartment that the two of you can live in together.

Dazai thinks that he can’t breathe, his throat feels swollen and he brings one of his hands up to tug at the collar of the white sweatshirt he’s wearing, tugging at it as if it’s the reason that he can’t breathe properly.

Dazai can’t go back to a world without you. He can’t.

Next to him, Atsushi is reaching out to him, as if trying to get him to calm down and Dazai doesn’t even want to know what the expression on his face might be right now. Everything is crumbling and tunneling around him—Atsushi, Kunikida, and Yosano are all dissolving, the car doors are fading away, the buildings and the streets and all of the scenery is just disappearing. 

Shit, he thinks, trying to figure out how the hell to ground himself. Shit, shit-

The car comes to such an abrupt stop that Dazai would have gone flying into the seat in front of him were it not for Atsushi throwing an arm across his chest to stop it from happening, the brakes screeching loudly and the car skidding. Yosano is pointing wildly, shouting something and Kunikida is shouting something back, something along the lines of her nearly causing him to get into an accident, but Dazai can only follow to where Yosano is pointing too, gaze dragging across the woman’s arm in the direction of the beach to the left of the car.

He wonders if he’s hallucinating. 

His fingers are shaking violently as he reaches out to push open the car door, squirming out of Atsushi’s protective hold. He flings himself out of the car desperately, nearly crashing hard onto the concrete—the fresh air is almost dizzying as he inhales it, pushing himself to his feet as quickly as possible. His broken leg screams in protest, but Dazai ignores it, vision blurring for the sparest moment before it focuses in on the figure standing on the beach in a familiar long, tan coat. 

His lips part to call your name but no words leave them—he’s not sure if it’s because he’s still half out of it or if it’s because he’s scared that if he calls your name and you don’t respond, it’ll confirm it’s just a hallucination. 

But he doesn’t have to say your name, whether it’s just by chance or if you heard the brakes of the car screeching, you turn in his direction. 

You’re wearing his coat; it’s too long on you—the tan edges are dragging against the sand and whipping around you as the wind picks up. But you’re wearing his coat and you’re beautiful; your expression shifts into one of recognition and then shock as soon as you see Dazai in the near distance, the sun is starting to set over the horizon and the soft orange glow casts an unearthly glow over you, and Dazai thinks everything about this is entirely unreal. He thinks that you might be some sort of angel, or some other type of divine being, and he thinks that he doesn’t even deserve to look at you, much less consider you his.

As he makes his way toward you, he can’t even put together all of his thoughts in a coherent manner. You’re alive is the first thought that rings through his head, the relief is almost debilitating. All of the days he spent with his heart in his throat, unsure of whether or not his decision had gotten you killed, have finally come to an end. The next thought that runs through his head is god, because he’s imagined this moment dozens of times since he first had to leave you. He’s imagined running to you, scooping you into his arms and swinging you around, holding you close and refusing to let go because Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let go of you again.

Except that’s entirely how it doesn’t go.

Dazai barely makes it to you before his legs are giving out on him, as much as he tries to ignore the pain, it evidently becomes too much for his body to handle. He’s collapsing into you the moment he makes it to you. His head is still throbbing, his leg is screaming, his body is aching, but your hands are instinctively grabbing him to break his fall, his knees crashing against the sand, and Dazai just can’t bring himself to care about the agony. He doesn’t care that his body is coming apart at its seams, he doesn’t even notice as you lower yourself down into the sand with him.

“Osamu.” His name leaves your lips in a breathy whisper, one that’s riddled with disbelief and longing—something else too, but Dazai can’t decipher it in his muddled state. “You’re here.”

He tries to say your name, but he’s pretty sure it comes out garbled and unintelligible. Distantly, he can feel his fingers twisting into the fabric of his jacket, trying to clutch onto you as best as he can in spite of the numbness that still threatens to consume him. Then, your grip on him shifts from the instinctual grab into your arms wrapping around his waist, one hand splayed across his back and the other sliding up to cradle his head to your chest as you hold him close, and Dazai thinks all is right in the world again. He doesn’t want to move, he doesn’t want to think, he doesn’t want to do anything but just let himself melt into you.

The feeling of your touch for the first time in weeks is enough to chase away the creeping numbness and anxiety, and everything still hurts but all of it dulls in comparison to being in your arms again. Dazai’s breath is shaky, he teeters over the edge of collapse now that he’s finally with you, his weary brain betraying him as it uses the comfort of your arms as an excuse to finally surrender. His vision swims—he’s not sure if it’s from relieved tears or exhaustion, maybe both—his nose is flooded with the scent of you, the scent of home.

“You’re here,” you whisper again as if you can’t believe it; Dazai can’t even blame you because a part of him still fears that if he lets go of you, you’ll disappear, a cruel trick on him played by his treacherous mind. You pull away from him and Dazai’s fingers instinctively cling to you harder, trying to get you to stay in place, but his body is far too weak for it to be effective. 

You lean back and bring your hands up to cup Dazai’s cheeks and it takes all of his willpower to not just let himself fall limp. Your expression twists a bit, he’s not sure what you see—nothing good, definitely. Yosano splinted his leg and cleaned up the wounds on his face, but his ability canceling hers prevents him from getting the wounds healed quickly, so his face is bruised and swollen, cuts litter his skin from when the elevator had crashed to the bottom floor. 

He thinks he must look disgusting, he doesn’t even know how you can bear to look at him. But he supposes that’s not a new thought to cross his mind, he’s never understood how you can look at him the way you do.

“What happened to you?” you breathe out, and Dazai’s lashes flutter as your thumb ghosts over his cheekbone, eyes searching his for an answer to your question. Dazai doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t, leaning into your touch. “God, Osamu, you look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“Are you calling me ugly?” 

Even in his objectively terrible state, Dazai is able to croak out the five words, although he’s sure the playful lilt is lost in his fatigue. You stare at him for a moment, as if you didn’t hear him properly, but then your expression shifts into one of disbelief and your hand flies to your mouth to smother the laugh that he’s missed so desperately the past two weeks.

“Can you walk?” you ask after a moment, hand lingering on his cheek before dropping down to his forearm, squeezing gently. 

Dazai winces at your words, shaking his head—he barely even made it to you, he’s not going to make it all the way to your apartment complex.

You let out a puff of air caught between a laugh and a sigh. “Guess we’re doing this again,” you say, a teasing cadence dancing in your tone. Dazai’s brows furrow a bit in confusion, but then you’re grabbing his arm and trying to heave him to his feet. “At least you won’t be pretending to be unconscious this time.” 

Dazai struggles to help you as you do your best to get him onto your back; a nostalgic feeling sweeps through him as he remembers the first time the two of you met, waking up after a failed suicide attempt to find you cursing and complaining as you try to haul him back to your apartment. He wonders if you knew what you know now back then, if you would have still stopped to help him—but that leads him to a line of questioning that he doesn’t want to approach yet. 

Do you know where he’s been? 

Do you know his past? 

Do you know everything he’s done?

He pushes the thoughts away. 

As if the gods above remember the event and want the two of you to reenact it as close to the original as possible, he feels a few drops of rain splatter against his face.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He hears you complain as you finally get him settled on your back. “Keep your gangly legs to yourself this time, I don’t need them knocking into me this time.”

“... I was purposely trying to trip you, you know?” Dazai admits, voice hoarse and weak and the smile curling to the edges of his lips is lazy but it’s real for the first time in what feels like forever. “I thought it would be funny.”

You gasp loudly. “I knew it! You’re such an asshole.”

Dazai laughs, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck—he wants to bask in the light feeling that’s replacing the emptiness in his chest, but a part of him can’t help but feel like this is only the eye of the storm. 

Back in the car, Kunikida looks a bit worried as you struggle to get Dazai onto your back. 

“Should we go help her?” he asks quietly, glancing over at Yosano.

But Yosano doesn’t respond to him. She has an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face as she watches you laugh loudly at something Dazai says. He finally looks somewhat coherent again now that he’s with you, still in pain but that detached, disconnected look in his eyes that had been terrifying Atsushi is gone. 

“No.” Atsushi is the one to respond to Kunikida, smiling lightly as he finally drags his gaze away as he watches a genuine smile twitch to the corners of Dazai’s lips as you nearly trip and fall under his weight. “Let’s head back to the office.”

Dazai has been sleeping for hours.

You let out a soft puff of air as you idly comb your fingers through his hair, eyes tracing his face. His right eye is completely swollen, his lip is split, you can see bruises littering his neck that disappear beneath the bandages he wears, his leg is broken and splinted. Despite all of that, he still somehow looks at ease as he rests in your lap.

You’re not as at ease.

Well, a part of you is, against all of your common sense. Having Dazai back in your arms is far more comforting than it should be, with the conversation that needs to be had looming over you. The sight of him sleeping peacefully in your lap, the feel of his heart thrumming beneath your hand, the sound of his steady breathing, it’s all enough to alleviate your body and mind of the stress and anxiety that has been crippling you for the past two weeks.

He’s alive. He’s okay. He came back to you. 

You find consolation in the thoughts—in the few days you were detained by the Hunting Dogs, all you could do was think about Dazai. Your mind raced with worst case scenarios and crippling fears. In spite of all of the allegations placed against him, you still love him—you’d known it well before he left and the relief you felt seeing him again before was enough to confirm it.

You think it’s dangerous, and maybe a bit stupid; a part of you knows that you should run for the hills, the crimes that Jouno Saigiku listed out are nothing to scoff at, and even putting aside morality, his former position as an executive of the Port Mafia should be more than enough to have you fleeing, if only because that puts you in danger too. No one gets to the position that he supposedly obtained without gaining masses of enemies and no one leaves it alive without doubling said enemies. 

But you’re not running for the hills—not because of his crimes, and not because of the risk of being with him—and that scares you a bit. You’re having trouble reconciling the Dazai you know with the one you’ve been told exists. Even when you recall all of the times you woke up to find him staring out your window with an unsettlingly detached expression, eyes too still and too black to be normal, as if they absorbed all sound and light around him; when you recall all of the man’s strange idiosyncrasies that just don’t line up with the front he puts up; when you recall that night in Kyoto where he refused to divulge what his previous job was, you just can’t. 

The logic fits, your brain can see it and piece it together, your heart just won’t accept it.

Your knuckles graze the side of his face, a conflicted expression crossing over your own. 

You don’t know what to do.

A part of you doesn’t want him to wake up, because you know that when he does, you’ll be forced to have the talk that you’ve been dreadfully anticipating since you learned about his crimes and imprisonment. You don’t know what you expect from the conversation, you don’t know how to approach it, you don’t know what you want to know nor why you want to know it, you don’t even know if you should continue with your relationship with him and you don’t even know why that’s still a question in your mind because obviously you shouldn’t continue a relationship with him. 

Your brain feels like it might implode.

You take a step back.

As you always do when you’re faced with conflict and feel yourself getting overwhelmed, you try to take a more logical approach. First, you make yourself a chart: pros and cons, always a favorite of yours, centering around Dazai and your relationship with him. Then, you make a list: everything else you need to know to properly weigh into each of the pros and cons.

Pros: 

Dazai makes you happy. (An important pro, you think, maybe it’ll outweigh all of the rest.)

Cons: 

138 counts of conspiracy to murder.

You pause. 

Distantly, you wonder what your life has come to—making a pro/con chart with one of the cons being 138 counts of conspiracy to murder. You press your hand against your mouth, staring ahead as you reconsider every action you’ve taken to lead to this moment. Promptly, you decide to scrap the pro/con chart and move right on to the list of things you need to know. 

What do you need to know?

First off, you need confirmation over whether or not the allegations are true—if they’re not, then you’re spiraling for nothing and you can move on happily in your relationship with Dazai.

If they are?

You swallow thickly. You need context—you’re not sure what type of context would justify those crimes, you don’t think there’s any justification for them, honestly, but there must be a reason as to why you cannot reconcile the Dazai that you know with the one you’ve been told exists. You like to believe that you’re good at reading people—although you’re definitely questioning it now—so there must be some context that you’re missing as to how the “alleged Dazai” became the “known Dazai.” 

And maybe—just maybe—if you can understand that, then maybe you can still move on in your relationship with him. Because even if his crimes aren’t justifiable, people can change and it would be beyond you to scorn someone trying to do their best to become a better person. It’s not like you’re some squeaky clean, paragon of virtue anyway: your university and grad school is mostly being paid off by your brother’s blood money from the underground rings, and yeah, it doesn’t really compare to being a former executive to the most dangerous gang in Yokohama but it definitely narrows your room to judge. 

You glance back down at Dazai.

Your eyes meet wide, tired brown ones that immediately shut as soon as he catches you looking at him, as if pretending to still be asleep.

“Dazai Osamu, we are not playing this game again.”

Dazai reopens his eyes with a sheepish smile but he doesn’t say anything for a moment. Slowly, his expression shifts, the corners of his lips furling downward as a mixture of realization and resignation pools in his eyes. 

“You know.”

The two words are so unassuming yet so damning, your heart lurches and your stomach churns. Dazai isn’t looking at you anymore, he’s staring up at the ceiling, waiting for you to speak.

Is that confirmation? Just like that?

“I don’t know anything until you tell me,” you decide to say, your voice a bit tighter than you intended for it to be.

Dazai’s eyes draw back to you, studying you carefully. He looks conflicted—over what, you’re not sure. You think if he tries to blow this off rather than explaining it to you, you might lose your mind. You’re giving him a chance to explain on his own terms and if he doesn’t take it-

You reach out instinctively as Dazai starts to push himself off of your lap into a sitting position, fingers brushing his back worriedly. 

“You shouldn’t be moving around,” you tell him quietly.

He only shakes his head, finally speaking, his voice so quiet that it’s barely audible. “Let me take you somewhere.”

S. ODA

The four letters engraved into the headstone before you have been weathered by time, you can see lichen creeping across the slate and stone flaking at the edges—enough for you to put together that whoever has been put to rest here has probably been gone for a few years. Questions itch at the tip of your tongue but you bite them, waiting for Dazai to say something instead so that he can lead the conversation.

He has yet to say a word. From the moment that he slid into the passenger seat of your car, the only words that he’s spoken have been directions to the cemetery. The conflicted expression that had been etched onto his face has finally disappeared, smoothing out into an eerily blank one that you can hardly stand to look at because you know only dark thoughts must be racing through his head. 

You wrap your arms around your waist as another chilly wind whips around the two of you, grateful that you’d thrown a jacket on before leaving your apartment. Dazai is only dressed in his trench coat, too thin for the cold but he refused to wear anything else. You’re not sure why, but you have caught him burying his nose into the collar and inhaling, memorizing your scent as if it’s about to disappear. 

“I officially joined the Port Mafia when I was fifteen,” Dazai finally says. You raise your eyebrows a bit, wondering just how much autonomy a fifteen year old has to willingly choose to join the Mafia, but you don’t voice your thoughts, waiting for him to continue. “I met Nakahara Chuuya, a current executive of the Mafia, that same year and we earned the moniker Double Black for being the most lethal pair in Yokohama’s underground. At sixteen, I was put in charge of the boss’s personal covert ops unit and I was promoted to executive for all of my accomplishments, youngest underboss in the Mafia’s history. I’d eliminated countless rival organizations, opened numerous new distribution channels for all of their illegal trades, and had a hand in planning nearly all of the major operations both within and outside of Yokohama.”

His voice is void of any emotion, a cold monotone as he speaks the words like a bland recitation of a prewritten speech; his eyes are too empty and far too still as he stares ahead at the grave in front of the two of you. It’s unnerving; somehow, you think you like it even less than the actual matter of what he’s saying.

“Until I was eighteen, I continued to be the driving force behind the Mafia’s rapid growth and ironclad control over Yokohama; while I was an executive, no foreign organization dared to try to usurp control over any of our territory. They’d give up their territory if they knew I was the one heading the expansion operations, because they were scared of me and because they knew it was a lost cause trying to defend against me. Whatever you heard about me, it’s all true and probably way worse than you could ever imagine.”

The silence between the two of you following his words is damning—the wind is too loud and the distant sounds of cars honking and brakes screeching is jarring. You can hear your heart thudding in your ears, you can feel your gut twisting, your fingers tremble from where they’re stuffed in your pockets. Dazai is a statue next to you, his eyes haven’t budged, his limbs are stiff. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think him a corpse

Your lips part to speak but no words leave then. You take a moment before trying again. “How did you end up with the Mafia?” you ask, your voice is much weaker than you intended for it to be. 

Because that’s what you need to focus on—the context, that’s what you’d decided before he woke up and that’s what you’ll stick to, not what he’s done, but first how he ended up there and then why he left. You can’t imagine a fifteen year old willingly choosing to join the Mafia, so you think there must be more to the story. 

For the first time since the two of you arrived at the grave, Dazai moves—it’s subtle, a twitch of his fingers and a tug at the corner of his lips but it’s gone in an instant, you almost miss it. 

“I tried to kill myself when I was fourteen.” Bile rises to your throat almost as soon as his words process, you finally turn to look up at him but his expression hasn’t shifted at all. “The doctor tending to me ended up becoming the new leader of the Port Mafia. I was kept around as an insurance policy, and partly by my own volition, but I joined willingly at fifteen after turning him down several times.”

“Why?”

“I… thought something would happen. For so long, I just… couldn’t feel anything, and I didn’t see the point in living because of it. I thought that maybe the more extreme emotions—violence, death, desire—all of the things that are found in abundance in the Mafia… I thought that if I could be around people who display all of these things so plainly, that I would be able to see and understand what makes humankind human. I thought that maybe it would help me feel more human, and find some sort of reason to keep living.”

You exhale, eyes sliding shut for a second. You feel nauseous—hands lighty trembling as you desperately try to digest the large pill he gave you as quickly as you can because you still have more questions but god, what type of fourteen, fifteen year old feels so empty inside that he turns to the Mafia to try to feel something?

“You were a kid, Osamu. You’re not some incarnate of evil for ending up where you did, you were failed by all of the adults in your life,” you finally say quietly; you’re the one staring ahead now, and you can feel his eyes on you but you don’t dare to turn to look at him because you know that it’ll make you crack and you need to continue. Clearly something else happened when he was eighteen that led to him leaving the Mafia but what? Your gaze trails back to the grave in front of you, a sinking feeling in your chest. You take a deep, steady breath before asking your next question: “What changed at eighteen?”

“I didn’t leave the Port Mafia because I had some great epiphany as to the immorality of my actions,” Dazai snaps. His voice is tight and borderline antagonistic, emotion finally seeping into the monotone, as if he’s trying to convince you that he is what you claim he’s not. “I-”

He cuts himself off abruptly, his voice cracks, you lift your gaze to his face and your throat spasms when you notice the black pits have been replaced with the warm brown you’re used to, a vast array of emotions swimming within them, too many for you to pinpoint a single one.

“He was my friend,” Dazai finally says softly. “My only one, maybe. When he died, he told me that if both sides are the same to me—evil and justice—that I should become a good person, I should save people. So, do you understand? Nothing about me has changed since back then, and the only reason I’m on the side of the ‘good’ is because someone else asked it of me, not for any altruistic reason. I’m still the same now as I was then.”

“... I don’t think that’s quite true,” you tell him after a few seconds of silence, and you can feel him look at you and you can practically hear the bitter ‘what do you know?’ that he’s about to let out, so you force yourself to continue before he can. “I think that if someone had told me all of this a few weeks ago, I would’ve laughed in their face. I never once-”

Dazai scoffs. “So, you don’t understand,” he says, voice reverting back to that empty tone you hate, but his body is tense and he’s looking anywhere but you. “I’m good at putting up fronts, wearing masks depending on who I’m around; it’s how I learned to blend in with people. The man you know doesn’t exist. I’m a fraud, my blood runs black; when I’m pushed into a corner, I invariably fall back into old habits. I’ll never leave the dark and I don’t belong-”

“I think you’re wrong,” you interrupt him, recalling Yosano’s words from two weeks ago—he’ll never believe it himself. “I don’t think you’ll ever see yourself from an objective standpoint. I don’t think you want to believe that you’ve changed for the better, but I think you have. I’m not stupid, Osamu, and I’ve never been one to fall for people’s acts, no matter how good they might be. I’ve known something was up with you since that first night when I woke up and found you staring out the window, and still, I have never once doubted that you were a good man.”

“I killed people to get out of Meursault, I was willing to torture people to get information when the Guild showed up in Yokohama and then again when the Decay of the Angel arrived, I’ll manipulate anyone and everyone around me to see my plans through, I…”

Dazai is still listing off all of the reasons why he’s still a bad person, and maybe you should be listening but you can hear the way his voice is becoming increasingly more tinged with desperation, as if he’s intent on convincing you to change your viewpoint on him. You wonder if he thinks you’ll run, and then, you wonder if he’s trying to make you run—each sentence he speaks becomes more descriptive than the last. 

He’ll find himself sorely disappointed, because you’ve already decided that you won’t run. You’re still not convinced that this is the smartest decision on your part; Dazai is dangerous and being with him is dangerous, not because of him himself, but because of the threats that still linger from his past, but you suppose love always drives people to do stupid things in its name anyway. Even now, as he lists off all of these terrible things, you can’t imagine your life without him—you think a life without him will be dull and gray, and you’ll always look back to the time you spent with him as the happiest you ever were, regretting the decision you made here. 

You’re not the type of person to live a life full of regrets. 

And whether he sees it or not, you think he has changed. You’re not the only one—Yosano, Atsushi, all of the members of the Agency see him in a similar light as you, but he’s so blinded by his past that he refuses to see himself in the present. Even the things he says now, all of it was done in the name of protecting the people he cares about, and that’s not something you’re going to condemn him for. 

“I think he’d be proud of you.” You cut off his tangent with seven quiet words and Dazai goes utterly still and utterly silent next to you. “I didn’t know him, of course, but I think he’d be proud of the man you’ve become, Osamu. Change doesn’t happen overnight, you were surrounded by the dark for so long, and from such a young age, that it might take decades to remove its influence over you, but you’re trying and you’re saving people. I wish you could see yourself the same way I see you. I think he would be proud.”

You wonder if you pushed too far, sparing a glance his way. His brows are furrowed so intensely that you can’t hope to try to imagine what might be going through his mind, brown eyes flooding with emotion as he looks down at his friend’s grave.

“I’m not someone that was born to be with people,” he finally croaks out. “Romantically or platonically. I’m not right in the head. Manipulative, constantly trying to kill myself, prone to jealousy, pettiness and casual cruelty. There are so many people trying to kill me that I stashed guns in your apartment when you weren’t home just in case they came after me while I’m there—I don’t care if they get me, but they might go after me when I’m with you, or even go after you to get to me. Sometimes, I regret leaving the Mafia because I feel like it’s the only place I actually belonged because it’s the only place where I was actually good at what I do.”

You don’t speak, instead letting him list off everything that he thinks is wrong with him, laying out bare all of the things that he tried so hard to hide from you over the past few months. He can’t look at you, eyes trained ahead and you can see the way his fists are clenched in the pockets of his trench coats. He lowers his face into his collar again, burying his nose in the fabric before continuing. 

“During really bad slumps, I can barely get out of bed even though I can’t sleep; sometimes I won’t eat for days unless someone notices and forces me to and if they do, I usually get nasty with them; and I’ll do just about anything to die. Atsushi-kun has had to fish me from more rivers than I can count, Kunikida-kun has had to drag me to the hospital after trying to overdose on pills or drink various types of poisons, Yosano-sensei has spent days watching over me because she didn’t trust me not to try again once one of them saved me.”

His voice has mostly returned to that cold monotone, but there’s a hint of emotion clinging to the edges that he just can’t wipe away, something caught between desperation and pleading. Your throat feels tight and swollen and you think that your heart might be shattering a bit with how he’s so set on pushing you away and convincing you that he’s simply too horrid to be loved. 

“I can’t cook. I don’t clean. I hardly shower. I’m more often drunk than I am sober. I can barely go a week without trying to kill myself at least once. I suck at saving money because I figure I’m going to die soon anyway, so I don’t see the point in it. I have an awful lifestyle and more unhealthy habits than I can count. I've tried to change it but I always fail. I don’t know how to comfort people and when I’m confronted with conflict by people I care about, I’ll avoid them until I can act like nothing's wrong. I’ll be more of a bother than anything else, really.”

“I still want you,” you finally say quietly, watching as a distressed expression sweeps over his face.

“You really don’t,” he protests weakly. You wonder if he’s trying to convince himself of it, or you—maybe both.

“I do. I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work,” he breathes out, a last ditch attempt to persuade you away. 

“Not to me,” you tell him firmly. “Not if it’s you.”

“I don’t deserve this.” Dazai shakes his head, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him. “I don’t understand—everything I told you and you’re still… I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

“I disagree, but regardless, that’s hardly relevant,” you say absently, finally reaching out to loop your arm in his, resting your head against his bicep. “Do you want this? Do you want me?” 

“Yes.” His voice is so hoarse and so low, as if he can barely bring himself to say the words out loud.

“Then it’s yours. I’m yours.”

Dazai’s jaw is clenched so tight that you’re worried he’s going to damage his teeth, he brings his hand to his eyes as if to cover the upper half of his face. You squeeze his arm a bit, comforting, eyes sliding shut.

“Everything I touch withers and turns to ashes,” Dazai rasps. “Anything I never want to lose is always lost. I’m scared that by being with you, I’m also killing you.”

“I’ll take that risk, if it means I can be with you,” you tell him, watching as he shakes his head, still refusing to look at you.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he exhales quietly.

“You love me for it,” you tease lightly.

“I do,” he admits, and your eyes shoot open a bit at his words. You glance up at him, but he’s looking ahead, expression downcast. “And I’m sorry about that.”

“Are you apologizing for loving me?” you ask, a bit incredulously.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Osamu…”

Your voice is soft, you’re not sure what you want to say but you falter when Dazai suddenly looks down at you. His eyes are so exhausted, he looks like he hasn’t had any rest in years—his shoulders sag and his arms hang limply at his sides. You think that maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to all of this when he’s still recovering, but you also think that the fatigue is not just physical.

 “I’m so tired,” Dazai suddenly whispers, resting his forehead on the top of your head. His voice cracks a bit over the word, you slip your arms around his waist, letting him lean into you.

“Then let’s go home, yeah?”

“... Yeah, let’s go home.”

When you get back to your apartment, it’s still dark but you know dawn will break soon; as Dazai stumbles over to your bed, you make your way to the window. You close the curtains so that Dazai will be able to sleep easily even after the sun rises, and then move over to your nightstand to turn on the dim lamp so you can at least see a little bit. 

Dazai drops his coat onto your desk chair before he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, feet planted on the floor as he stares ahead at the wall. He looks lost, conflicted; you don’t know what to say to draw him out of it, so you decide not to say anything. Instead, you make your way over to him and take a seat next to him—your thigh brushes his, arms ghosting each other’s, and Dazai immediately leans over to rest his head on your shoulder, eyes sliding shut.

You lift your hand to cradle the back of his head, fingers idly carding through his dark locks. You feel him let out a shaky breath, the air hot against your skin, and you turn your head to the side, pressing your lips to the top of his hair, lingering for a moment before resting your head against his.

“Lay down and get some sleep,” you tell him softly. “I’ll stay with you.”

Dazai exhales, but he doesn’t budge from where he’s leaning heavily against you. “... I need to take off my bandages,” he finally says quietly. “They’re drenched in sweat and blood, haven’t had a chance to change them since I left… I don’t want to get in bed with them on.”

You pause and then ask, “Do you want me to go grab the new roll I bought? I can step out.”

“I don’t have the energy to put them back on,” he finally murmurs, and then a bit more hesitantly, he adds: “Can you help me take them off?” 

You think your heart is in your throat. In the months you’ve been with Dazai, the only glimpse you’ve gotten of his body beneath the bandages was that day he showed up at your doorstep bleeding out and you had no choice but to cut through some of them to patch up the wound, and even then, you only saw the sparest bits of his body, only what was necessary to stop the bleeding. He’s been so careful to keep it hidden from you and now…

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Of course, I can.”

You shift a bit so that you can kneel behind him on the bed, fingers curling around the hem of his white long sleeved shirt. You tap his arm gently, a silent ask for him to raise his arms, and when he does, you slide the thick cloth off of his body, leaving him in his pants and the bandages that cover every inch of visible skin besides his face and hands.

He was right, they do look disgusting—most of them are yellowed and frayed at the edges, as if they’d been drenched with water and dried several times over. There’s blood staining the bandages on his side and a black tarry substance clinging to the bandages wrapped around his waist. You lean forward and press your lips against his shoulder, over the somewhat clean bandages that are covering the skin there, and you can hear Dazai let out a sharp, shaky breath in front of you.

“Ready?” you whisper, fingers grazing the clip fastened to the bandages on his neck, holding them in place. 

He only nods, so you press another soft kiss to him, this time to the crook of this neck, and unfasten the clips to unwind the bandages from around his neck. To your credit, your fingers don’t falter when a rugged, discolored scar is revealed, looped around his neck; it’s mostly faded, but it’s still rough beneath the pads of your fingers. Your eyes linger though, there’s no question as to what caused the scar and your mind instinctively draws back to all of the offhand comments and jokes that Dazai has ever made about ceiling beams and nooses and your throat feels a bit tight.

You dip your head down to press your lips against the nape of his neck, right over where the rough skin crosses. You can hear his breath hitch, you can feel the way he shivers, but you don’t say anything as you continue to unwind the bandages around his chest and torso. You’ve seen most of the scars that litter his back from when you’d had to patch up his bullet wound, but it’s different seeing them without the fear of him bleeding out fogging your brain. 

They look much harsher against his pale skin now—the worst is still that deep, jagged one that runs from his shoulder to the corner of his hip, but you can’t help but notice that there are more that you hadn’t noticed that day. Most of them are various types of cuts and slashes, some deeper than others, and healed bullet wounds, your gaze is particularly drawn to the most recent one on his upper back. It’s fresh compared to all of the others, still red and easily agitated—your fingers brush over it for a moment before you lean in to press another kiss to his shoulder blade, right over where the worst of the scars begins. 

You shift from behind him to sit at his side, dropping the bandages that had been covering his chest, torso and neck haphazardly onto your bedroom floor before reaching out for his right arm.

Dazai withdraws immediately.

His expression is guarded, you think that his eyes seem a bit glassy but you can’t tell with the dim lighting. You don’t say anything, and you don’t reach out again; after a few moments of him studying you, his shoulders slump and Dazai moves his arm so that it’s back in your lap. Your eyes trace his face one last time, making sure he’s okay, before you lift your fingers to start unwrapping the bandages, starting at his bicep. 

The skin of his bicep is mostly clear—there’s one light scar cutting through its side, as if a bullet had grazed him. When you move down to his forearm, Dazai is stiff and you can see the discomfort on his face, but he doesn’t pull away, so you continue. 

And you falter, because as you loosen the bandages to remove them, you catch sight of the deep scars lining his wrist and forearm. The skin is uneven and discolored, there’s hardly an inch of visible skin on his lower arm that’s not covered by the vertical scars. He’s staring at you, dark eyes heavy and inspecting your every reaction—he’s looking for something, and you don’t know what, but you just decide to do the same thing you’ve done every other time you finished taking off a set of bandages and lean down to press your lips against his pulse point, moving over to do the same to his other wrist after unwrapping the bandages there too.

Your gaze flickers down to his legs, where you can see the bandages on his ankles peeking out from the white pants he’s wearing, a bit too short for his long legs. You pat his thigh gently and say, “C’mon, let’s get you out of these ugly things.”

Dazai shifts up just enough for you to help him slide the loose plants off so you can toss them off to the side, leaving him in his briefs and the bandages wrapped around his thighs and calves. You move to kneel in front of him, instantly getting to unwinding them, starting at his ankle. 

“Do you remember what you told me back then?” Dazai asks quietly, looking down at his lap instead of you. “The day we met?” 

“I told you a lot of things that day,” you say lightly as you glance up at him, careful as you unwrap the bandages around his calves. You kiss his knee. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You said you’d change the trajectory of my life,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers absently. 

Vaguely, you remember the words, smiling a bit in amusement. 

“About the hot chocolate?” you question, laying a kiss to his other knee before shifting up to unwrap the bandages on his thighs; you make sure not to let the pain show on your face when you notice that his inner thighs are as littered with scars as his wrists and forearms, all of them dangerously close to his femoral artery. 

“Yeah.” He lets out a puff of air akin to a laugh, but when you glance up at him, you see there’s very little amusement on his face. In fact, he looks more wistful than anything else. “You really did, you know? Not with the hot chocolate, obviously, but just… you. You did.”

You sit back on your heels as you look up at Dazai, taking his hand into yours before lifting it to your lips, kissing his knuckles softly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. When he continues, his voice is hoarse, bordering on a plea, “Don’t ever go somewhere I can’t follow.”

“Somewhere without you?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice as you kiss the palm of his hand before letting go so you can move to unwrap the bandages from his other leg. “Sounds dreadful, I would never.”

He lets out a noise as if he doesn’t entirely believe you, as if it’s some inevitable fate that the two of you will face. So when you finish unwinding the bandages and push them off to the side with the rest of them, you lean up on your knees to cup his cheek, pulling him down a bit to you so you can press your lips to the corner of his. 

“You’re stuck with me.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” he croaks out, and the wry laugh he lets out falls flat. 

You squeeze his hand again before you rise to your feet, and when you do, Dazai’s throat spasms as you stand in front of him, looking down at him. He’s stripped bare in front of you now—physically, emotionally, and he looks at you with an expression that lets you know that you have the power to utterly ruin him. He’s trusted you with his heart, handed it over to you on a platter after having guarded it so desperately and carefully for so long, and you can see the vulnerability in his dark eyes as he watches you restlessly, waiting to see what you’ll do with it. 

You lean forward again, pressing your lips against his forehead softly and then to his own, a chaste, innocent kiss that lasts no longer than half a second. 

“I love you,” you tell him quietly. 

Humans cannot live without a heart, so if he’s to give you his, it’s only fair that you give him your own—though realistically, yours has already been his for a long time. Your heart beats in his chest now, and his in yours, and you wonder if he understands the gravity of what that means but you think he does, if the way his expression crumbles has anything to say about it. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down onto his lap. His fingers bite a bit too deeply into your skin for it to be comfortable, but you only wrap your arms around his shoulders and let him bury his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I think I might’ve been born just so I could meet you,” Dazai admits, words thick and throaty, muffled against your neck.

You smile lightly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, turning your head to the side to kiss his temple. “I feel the same,” you whisper, because there’s no way anything but destiny led you to Dazai Osamu on that beach—one way or another, you were fated to be with him. 

Dazai pulls his face from where he’s had it tucked in your neck to press his lips to yours; he kisses you desperately, hands rising to cup your cheeks. In one swift motion, he has you pinned down on the bed, hips and chest flush to yours, hand slipping behind your head to tilt your head so he can deepen the kiss, and you’re reeling at his sudden switch up, struggling to keep up with him. His tongue traces the inside of your lip, deceptively gentle compared to the way he has body pressed against yours.

Your hands fly to his waist, sliding over his bare skin, over all of the rough ridges of his scars and his body shudders against yours violently, unused to the feeling of someone touching him without his bandages as a barrier. He pulls back, tugging at your bottom lip softly before moving just far enough away for your lips to be brushing, sharing the same sliver of air. You can feel his breath fanning across your lips, it smells of the peppermints you have littered across your desk and distantly, you can’t help but wonder when he managed to steal one, but the thought is only fleeting. It’s dizzying, hot, so intimate that you think your heart is about to fly out of your chest.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Dazai breathes out, dark eyes searching yours as he speaks.

“Me neither,” you agree, and then you smile, leaning up to steal another kiss from him, and then another, and then another. “Good thing we have the rest of our lives to try.”

Less than a week later, you stand in the chaos of the Armed Detective Agency as they argue over a new case—and by they, you mean Yosano and Kunikida with Dazai occasionally making antagonistic comments to try to make Kunikida blow a fuse. You don’t really know what you’re doing here, you suppose the Agency doesn’t really care and you have nothing better to do anyway —you lost your internship at the Ministry of Defense, obviously, with all of the chaos that went down and classes have yet to start up again, and Dazai begged and pleaded for you to come with him to work because he ‘can’t stand having to look at Kunikida-kun’s ugly mug all day,’ but you figure it’s only because he wants to sneak off to you whenever Kunikida is distracted.

Like now.

Dazai has flopped onto where you’re lounging on the couch as he watches Kunikida and Yosano go at it, head resting on your chest, giggling to himself as Kunikida’s face goes red and Yosano looks increasingly more entertained. You’re idly playing with his hair as you scroll through your phone, distantly listening to the argument that you’re pretty sure Dazai instigated just so he could slink away from his desk.

It’s only a matter of time before Kunikida notices Dazai’s scheme and drags him off of you, but it’s nearly the end of the day anyway and you and Dazai are going to the theme park in the Kanagawa prefecture once he can leave work, so you’re excited. You think you’re going to ask Atsushi, Kyouka and Kenji to come along with the two of you, even if Dazai pouts and scowls over it, because they’ve spent most of the day talking to you when Kunikida was forcing Dazai to actually do his work. 

“Ranpo will be here soon,” Yosano goads Kunikida. “We’ll see what he says.”

Kunikida’s eye twitches and he parts his lips to speak but before he can, the door to the Agency flies open and a familiar dark-haired man comes bounding in, snacking on a bag of sweets. Tanizaki follows behind him, looking exhausted if not a bit relieved to be back. 

“Tanizaki got us lost three times,” Ranpo complains, making his way through the reception area toward the interior. Tanizaki looks disgruntled, as if he doesn’t entirely agree with Ranpo’s statement but is beyond arguing about it. Ranpo pauses next to the couches where you and Dazai are lounging. “It’s you.”

Your eyebrows raise a bit when you notice the thinly veiled irritation in Ranpo’s voice. Dazai looks up, eyes a bit narrowed, and both Yosano and Kunikida pause from where they were about to bring their argument to Ranpo, sharing a look with one another. 

“Ranpo-san, don’t be ru-” Dazai starts to complain, although you can tell there’s a hint of tightness to his voice. 

“First, everyone in the Agency ignores me when I tell them not to take this case; then, I go out of the way to warn you about the Hunting Dogs and instead of listening to me, you throw yourself into the heart of Yokohama and make yourself easy pickings for them,” Ranpo rants. “I don’t even know why I try.”

Realization strikes fast, your face feels a bit hot. Dazai sits up from where he’s laying on you, looking between you and Ranpo, a bit confused. 

“... You were R,” you realize sheepishly, wondering how you hadn’t put it together sooner. 

Ranpo all but sneers. “Aren’t you supposed to be an honors student at Waseda? I swear, sometimes I think I’m the only person in my life with brain cells.” he says snidely, pointedly raising his chin and looking away from you as he adds: “I suppose your arrest wasn’t entirely a bad thing, though—made the police force more willing to open their eyes with their wives and family members going off the deep end about the Hunting Dogs. But still, after all the effort I went through to get that warning to you…”

He finishes with a loud scoff, but you’re more focused on the aghast expression on Dazai’s face as he looks at you, and you brace yourself for the conversation that’s about to come, wondering how the hell you’re going to get out of it.

“You got arrested?” Dazai blanches, eyes wide and face a bit pale.

You wince, laughing a bit sheepishly. “Yeah… ha, look at us, in jail at the same time! Couple goals, huh?” 

Dazai doesn’t look half as amused—a mix of disbelief, guilt and a hint of anger all visible on his face. You don’t know where the guilt is coming from, but you figure he must blame himself for it somehow, which you think is a bit ridiculous because it was your choice to let yourself get arrested when you had the chance to flee. You think that your trip to the amusement park is going to be tainted now, because you know that as soon as Dazai gets the chance, he’s going to bully you into an interrogation over what happened, so to salvage the night and spare yourself the headache, you finally make your move.

“Atsushi-kun, Kyouka-chan, Kenji-kun, Osamu and I are going to the amusement park later, you should join us!” 

The look Dazai gives you is nothing short of betrayal, but luckily, Atsushi, Kenji and Kyouka, who’ve all lit up at your words, excited, can see it from where they’re sitting. You smile sweetly up at Dazai, leaning up to steal a kiss; he is disgruntled, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Oh? The one in Kanagawa?” Yosano suddenly asks, interested. “We’ll come too.”

Dazai buries his face in your chest, letting out a muffled groan. Yosano tosses you a wink, seemingly having forgotten about her argument with Kunikida as she throws her arm around the man and gives him a sharp look.

“Won’t we, Kunikida?” she asks with a terrifying smile. Kunikida looks as if he’s going to protest but before he can, Yosano’s arm around him tightens. “Won’t we?”

“Fine,” Kunikida bites out, looking none too pleased. “I need to hurry and finish this report then, so let go.”

Ranpo points at you. “You’ll fund my cotton candy for the night as an apology for the unnecessary headache,” he declares and you let out a huff of laughter in agreement.

“Can Naomi and I come too?” Tanizaki asks, a bit hesitant as he glances at you and notices the way Dazai has slumped into your chest, defeated. “We’ve only been once when we were kids. It’d be fun to go back.”

“‘Course,” you agree easily. “Dazai and I are gonna head out now though, I have to run to the store before we go.”

Kunikida only waves you off—he probably doesn’t even register what you asked, too focused on getting his report done—so you push Dazai off of you and rise to your feet, stretching because your back has become a bit sore from lounging around all day. Dazai nearly topples onto his ass, shooting you an accusing look before standing up straight.

You hold your hand out to him, he takes it, looking a bit mollified. 

“See you in a bit,” you tell the Agency, and you get various different goodbyes as you leave the office.

As soon as the door shuts behind the two of you, Dazai is scowling at you. “You’re devious,” he claims. “Inviting them all to avoid a much needed conversation. Diabolical.”

“Learned from the best,” you coo, leaning into him and nudging his arm with your shoulder. He rolls his eyes, you grin. “Please, you and I both know you would spend the whole night trying to talk about it if we go alone and it would piss me off. We can talk about it when we get home.”

“And now.” The smile that Dazai gives you is all teeth, you grimace. “How did you get arrested?”

You just shrug. “They asked me for information, I refused to give it. I figured if they were going to come after me one way or another, it’s better that it happens in public—people don’t really take kindly to watching someone get arrested for associating with an organization that they’ve all associated with at some point or another because they’ll get scared that they’re next.”

Dazai looks at you, distinctly impressed. “You are devious.” He sounds proud, your cheeks heat up a bit, but then his expression drops again. “But still reckless. You could’ve been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.” You wave him off and then absently bid goodbye to the cafe owner and his wife as the two of you leave the cafe and make your way down the street to where you’d parked this morning. 

“But you could’ve been,” Dazai stresses the words, he’s a lot more tense than you expected, his jaw is tight. He catches the way you’re looking at him and shakes his head, letting out a puff of air. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“It’s my fault,” he tells you, and you immediately scoff, rolling your eyes. “It is, you don’t understand—I was with Dostoevsky in Meursault, I had to make a decision-”

“Shut up,” you tell him, irate. His mouth shuts instantly. “Stop acting like I have no autonomy. I knew what I was walking into, I chose to do it anyway. That’s the end of it, stop blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong, Osamu. You’re only human, you can’t control everything.”

You can tell that Dazai doesn’t believe you, but that’s an argument for another day. Luckily, Dazai doesn’t look too keen on pressing the subject anyway. Instead, conflict sweeps over his face as he studies you.

Finally, he asks quietly, “You never doubted the Agency?”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Are you kidding? There’s no way anyone’s going to convince me that the people in that office building are terrorists. That’s absurd, I figured there was something supernatural going on, just didn’t know what.”

Dazai looks at you, disbelief painted on his face. You’re not sure why until he lets out his own laugh, shaking his head. “The Decay of the Angel had a reality altering book,” he explains, eyeing you as the two of you continue down the sidewalk. “And you managed to somehow subvert the reality they created with it.”

You can’t tell if it’s a question or not, and for some reason, you feel distinctly seen as he looks down at you with an indecipherable expression. So you just shrug. “They shouldn’t have written such a ludicrous reality, then,” is all you say, a bit awkwardly.

Dazai only laughs again, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You lean your head into him, smiling softly. You bask in his presence, letting the warmth of the setting sun wash across your face as you share a few moments of silence. 

As the two of you reach the parking garage you’d parked in, Dazai suddenly stops, looking down at you. “Do you believe in fate?” he asks quietly, uncertainty in his eyes as he watches you for a response.

“Yeah,” you tell him. You’ve always believed in fate, and you believe in it a bit more after meeting Dazai, because somehow you know that you were always destined to meet him, that your fates have been intertwined since the moment the two of you were born. You simply cannot imagine a life without him, not in this world or any other. “String theory, multiverse, I think the world’s a lot bigger than just ours. Why?” 

You glance up at him curiously. “You do?” he asks a bit distantly, leaning down to ghost his lips against your forehead. Then a bit more hesitant, he continues, “If you think there’s more worlds like ours… do you think we’re together in all of them?” 

You snort, which is obviously not the reaction Dazai expects from the way he jolts, but before he can take offense to your reaction, you speak.

“Definitely,” you say so confidently that he almost looks taken aback. “I’ll find you in every universe, you can count on it.”

You think he looks beautiful right now as the sun finally sets over the horizon, the pale orange tints of the coming dusk making his skin glow, his eyes soft and fond, full of longing as he looks down at you. You’re struck with a distinct urge to kiss him, but he looks so divine in this moment that you can hardly bring yourself to move, spellbound as you admire him.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out, “I will.”

i don’t even really have words guys 🥹 i’m literally about to weep i can’t believe it’s over

[koneko-3]

Chapter 1 of "Light"

My name is Ryuka harakawa. I am know as a really smart student and I have been accepted to a high school dedicated to students that are intelligent as I am. Think of it like Harvard... almost. This school is a little different since it also looks for students that are gifted in talent in which I didn't meet that criteria. I've always wanted to expand my field in science research and have a career in marine biology. I look really in depth at everything I see and I've always wanted to see the ocean one day. Today was the beginning if a new chapter. I found myself at the steps of my new school reading the name "Atamagi highschool home for talent and smarts" the name alone made me smile and fill with excitement. Everything was going to be great for me. I wish my parents were here to see all this, unfortunately they passed away when i was only 5. The three of us were in a major car accident and i was the only sole survivor. I dont really have many fond memories of them but my gram gram always tells me stories about my mother and sometimes about my father. My aunt Maki also tells me a lot of things about my mother and sometimes tells me things about my father that gram gram didn't know about. The two of them love together, since my aunt is paralyzed from the waist down. Me and gram gram usually help her out a lot since she was also in a var accident with a boy she liked but he crashed into a tree while being intoxicated. Both luckily survived but the boy never talled to my aunt ever again. She says she doesn't hate him but it's just rude to just ditch her after everything. He didnt even care to even check on her after the crash, plus he only suffered minor damages.

Gram gram liked to sew a lot and would usually sew my clothes expect for my school uniform. She was kinda upset about it but I reassured her that it was okay and she should keep making me more clothing anyway. This moring she handed me a pin and told it was for good luck and everyone was going to love me. I love my family, and if anything were to happen to them I wouldnt know what I would do.

At the school gates I spoted a small group of people. They were surrounding a student throwing rocks at them. I had to do something, and on the first day too. That seemed to be very inappropriate to me. "Hey, Stop!" I said as I stepped in. It was a boy, the same age as me. "Aw, would you look at this girl. She trying to be the hero. How stupid." One of the bullies said. "How about we teach her a lesson about hunter and prey." One of the other bullies said with a smirk. I stomped my foot and said, "Look at yourselves. Do you guys even realize what you are doing? This isn't right, especially on the first day." One of the bullies looked at me. Her hair was long, blonde with purple highlights at the tips. "Aw, I think we should listen to her. Never!" She laughed with the other bullies. There was a total of five of them. The boy grabbed my hand and said, "Let's get out of here!" And we ran. We entered the school and stopped in a hallway. I was out of breath, but I wanted to ask him questions. "Hey, are you okay?" "I'm fine..." "you don't seem fine." "I am... now leave." He seemed kinda rude especially just considering I just stopped him from getting bullied. "Hey, maybe we started off on the right foot. What's your name?" "Why does it matter? You're just gonna be like them." He seemed scared and was trembling. I saw that his arm was bleeding, so I reached into my bag and pulled out a bandage. "Here, I see that your arm is bleeding." I said with a cheerful smile. He looked at me and smiled. "Thanks, but why are you doing this for me?" "Because I'm not a twisted individual." He seemed really happy now. "Alright, my name is Ryu Ichigawa." The name Ichigawa, it felt familiar before but I could decipher where I had heard it before. "I'm Ryuka Harakawa, I hope we can become great friends." He looked at me with shock. "I dont think that would be a good option..." "why?" I asked. "Nevermind, nice meeting you." He waved me goodbye. He seemed very suspicious. I took out my phone and noticed I was going to be late for my first class. I panicked and I didn't even know what or where my first class was.

Eventually, I found my class despite being 5 minutes late. And to my surprise I saw him again in that class. I sighed and sat down. The girl that sat right next to me slamed her hands on my desk and looked at me with the biggest smile on her face. "Oh my god, I love you pin!! It's so cute!!!" Her eyes with different colors, the left being green and the right being blue. I had never seen anyone with heterochromia before. "Hey! Are you going to respond? You looking at my eyes arent you? Man, I'm not a monster!!!" She cried. "Oh, sorry. I spaced out for a second. Thanks for your comment though." "Eh? What kind of reponse is that?" "One I thought would be mature to answer with, sorry." "What’s your name?" "I am Ryuka Harakawa." "Hmph, I'm Setsuna Kodaki the girls that outshines everyone else and it's not because of my eyes." "You want to sing and be an idol?" "Not really..." it seemed I had dampened the mood. "I really like to draw a lot if things. Such as really cute animals, like cats." She said. She pulled out her sketckbook and showed me many of her drawings. They were pretty impressive, sadly i wished i had talent like hers. "Your work is pretty impressive." I said to her. "Thank you!!" She sat down at her seat really quickly when the teacher stepped into the classroom. He was even later than i was. "Sorry, I had an issue on my way here. I am your english teacher."

After school i was met with Setsuna. "Hey there Harakawa-san! I want you to meet my friend." A shy girl, a little shorter than Setsuna stood next to her. "Hi, I'm Margie Smith. I'm a foreign exchange student from

Senria. Nice to meet you..." she seemed like didnt want to continue the conversation. I looked at my phone. I recieved a text messags from my best friend Tsukuba. It read, "want 2 get ice cream tmmr?" I responded "of course!" My gram gram wasn't too fond of Tsukuba since she was older than me and plus she knew my mother in ways that gram gram and aunt never told me before. But Tsukuba never really liked to talk about the topic of my mother. She liked to talk about cosplay, video games and anime she watched. I started my walk home. Today was really nice and I was already starting to like this new school. I was already excited to go the next day. I reached my home and noticed the door was locked. That was odd to me, but luckily i had a key. I unlocked the door and called my aunt and gram gram names. No response. They should've been home, even if they went out. I ran to my aunt bedroom. I knocked on her door. No response. My heart racing. I raced to my gram gram room. I knocked on her door. No response again. I opened her door only to find the unthinkable. There laid the corpses of my gram gram and aunt Maki.