#and wanted so badly for the characters to drag her into their world

[davey-in-a-minivan]

Isabel Lovelace My Absolute Beloved

Lovelace is one of my favorite examples of one of my favorite kinds of characters, which is: woman who the world is trying so hard to kill and emerges beat up and spitting out teeth and still going.

(Relatedly, Eva Olivia Moreno is one of the few White Vault characters I really loved and it's on the strength of the joy I felt when i realized that not only had Eva NOT died when a rockslide separated her from the team, but instead dragged herself three days over the mountains, alone, covered in mud and blood and bruises, WITH ALL THE TEAM'S DATA DRIVES, to let the world know what was going on and demand rescue for the others. LOVE HER. Alessandra "Cockroach" Strong of the Penumbra Podcast ALSO falls into this category and I would've loved to see more of her)

Interestingly, I think Lovelace plays a similar role in-universe for Eiffel and Minkowski, in that they first encounter her as a 'character' in old audio logs whose survival they are rooting for at a remove -- when Eiffel and Minkowski listen to her logs but it's unclear whether she made it off the station, Eiffel shushes Minkowski's skepticism and says "let me have my badass space commando chick!!" In the absence of conclusive evidence he clings to the idea that she survived, for what i suspect are two reasons: (1) it means it's possible to survive and gives him and Minkowski a sliver of hope, and (2) it's not fair for her to die after trying so hard to save herself and her crew, and if she survived he can believe that there's some fairness in the universe.

After Kepler shoots Lovelace, Minkowski tells an imagined Lovelace how badly she wanted to get Lovelace home because she wanted to believe that she could go home, which feels like an echo of Eiffel's earlier sentiment--obviously by now Minkowski knows and cares about Lovelace as a person, but she's also a symbol of the ultimate survivor, who will do whatever it takes to get home. If Lovelace, who fought harder and longer, with more skill and fewer limits than Minkowski finds herself capable of, and still didn't survive, what chance is there for Minkowski and her crew?

WHICH MAKES IT SO FUCKING SATISFYING WHEN LOVELACE LIVES AGAIN.

I need you all to know--Lovelace was "dead" for, what, an episode??--in that time my then-roommate and I put up a SHRINE to her memory. She was too cool and tragic and extreme and funny and hot to die!!!

I'm very glad the universe and Gabriel Urbina agreed.

It's not only satisfying because I'm obsessed with her and wanted her back (which I admit freely). It's a riveting development in the story of the unkillable Captain Lovelace where we finally see that she CAN'T be killed because she's already dead. Functionally she's a ghost in the story, haunting the Hephaestus until she finishes her unfinished business, and there's a delightful sheen of destiny to her arc where I was like oh fuck they've already done their worst to her and she's still going. She's going to win this. I don't know what it'll cost her, this could still be a tragedy, but she's GOING to succeed.

What does this mean for the rest of the original crew looking to her as a symbol? Eiffel, Minkowski and Hera do survive, like Lovelace. It is possible. But it costs them a lot. Weeks after Lovelace dies, resurrects, and has the day-ruining revelation that she's actually the alien clone of the dead woman she thought she was haha, she talks about the discomforting effort she makes to be the real Lovelace, not the person that Goddard turned her into. I think once they return to Earth the rest of the crew will struggle in similar ways. Minkowski need to believe that Lovelace could come home, and she did. But none of them could be the same as they were before.

Now, obviously the extremes Lovelace had to go to in pursuit of survival and justice were difficult and upsetting for her. But they were also hot!! SO let's wrap this up with some of the most iconic Lovelace moments according to me:

1. The "run and hide" monologue Eiffel and Minkowski find - HOT. sorry i know this comes on the heels of her describing the harrowing tragedy of her crew members' deaths but like

that's hot!!! go girl, kill em all!!!

2. THE DEAD MAN'S SWITCH. she said im going big AND going home, through the power of insane resourcefulness and this nuclear bomb i made

3. "variations on a theme" is suuuch a good minisode

4. disabling the airlock during the clone jacobi situation without telling anyone

5. NAPALM

6a. broadly, the hostage situation during the coup, where she goads kepler into focusing on her instead of eiffel

6b. SPECIFICALLY the part of the hostage situation where she gets the show's one "fuck"

7. alien possession lovelace!!!! i know it wasn't quite her melting kepler's hand off but god it's a fun scene

8. time loop lovelace. i love a good time loop and the contrast between her yelling and goading and shooting things in the last argument but also being, like, pretty chill and pragmatic about it--this is just her method of causing enough trouble to break the loop--is fun

9. hera's and her intersecting journeys re: what it means to be a person

10. distracting cutter so minkowski can stab him with the harpoon!!!!!!

in conclusion: WHAT A CHARACTER

[adoregojo]

secret admirer.

hihihihihihihihi, i cannot believe i actually slept for two days in a row? wth? and also that i never did this kind of posts? im such a lazy bum mb yall, I promise I'll write a real fic soon. summary: bllk characters as your secret admirers: isagi, bachira, chigiri, reo. how they fell, what do they do, how did they confess.

isagi.y

him. just him.

you once held his shirt collar to stop him from planting flatly on the floor.

and when you walked away, you walked with his heart in your palms.

yea, just like that

but honestly, isagi himself didn't knew he was such a big sap inside

and the moment he realised you two shared a few classes was the second he almost kneeled and thanked the sky itself for this.

an absolute swoon from looking at your side profile.

he once was long gone within the abyss of daydreaming about you, he genuinely just couldn't look away.

then got called out by the teacher for being too distracted.

definitely prayed that you didn't see that.

writes your name unintentionally in his notebook.

gets so embarrassed about it later and rips the paper.

still dose it again the next day and almost ripped the whole book apart form cringing at himself.

he once was musing over you too much to the point that your name slipped out unwittingly on the dinner table.

his parents couldn't stop teasing him about it, wondering when they would see you walking down their house door.

leaves love notes in your locker almost everyday.

it's something short and simple like: "you look pretty today."

then when he goes home he'll realize how dumb that was because you literally look the prettiest everyday.

dumb, dumby.

takes time to make the first move though.

he just feels like you're way, farther away from his reach.

it's okay, he still considers himself lucky to be one of those who got admire you.

he just hoped you saw him behind all of them, even if it was a glance.

chigiri.h

omgg pretty boyyy

despite chigiri being a confident and self-reliant, the trigger words of his old injury was like a pulling a pin of a grenade to his still-raw sorrowness. something that'll always haunt him.

and what dose he dare to say when they were nothing but truthful? like a salt to his wounds, he tends to just take it and suck it up, or at least try to ignore it for his sake.

but everything flipped when you stood up for him.

from that moment on. chigiri knew that he was far a goner.

out of everyone here he's definitely the most romantic one.

reads all your favourite books and analysis it.

probably named a cat after you.

like isagi he writes love letters for you.

just a little too poetic..

it it's short then it's something like: "loving you is like breathing." or "i hope your days are filled with the same joy you give me with your existence only."

but mostly is: "my definition of love, i see the true meaning of living behind your hue of life. you shall lighten my soul with your existence alone, i was born to see you shin each day, witnessing you is a blessing from heaven itself. the day that i stop seeing you as the owner of the stars is the day my body shall vanish, yet my soul will know it way back to you. from your only and one your admirer."

what a lovesick clown.

he might be a smooth talker on the outside, but trust me the butterflies of sentimental keeps on swirling in his stomach on the sight of you.

told his mother and sister about you.

it was his biggest regrets.

because the next day his sister shouted your name in a demand for you to spend the night for the 'meeting of the future in law'.

he had to physically drag her back to the car, freaking embarrassing.

couldn't meet your eyes for a while after that.

wants to hold your hand.

like, really badly.

it's just that feeling your skin against his cold, pristine hands must've feel like the loveliest, cosiest thing.

the thoughts alone are making him go crazy.

he confessed first, just couldn't help himself.

he just hoped if you would go to the end of the world alongside with him.

bachira.m

the sunshine boy himself.

the definition of fell first AND fell harder.

it all started when the class was ordered to work as duo for a project, something he always despised.

you may say that because bachira was definitely not having the word 'smart' in his book, you'd be right actually.

but mainly since no one really wanted to group up with him.

it was embarrassing, to just sit there and wait to be picked was putting him under the lights that pointed him out as the most pitiful creature in the room.

then you pocked him on the shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to be your partner.

and when he didn't see the sarcasm reeking from you, he knew he tripped hard, and couldn't find it anywhere in his feet to back him up.

it was strange, bachira never had a company, let alone a crush.

but the signs were there, and were painfully vulnerable.

painted you in art class multiple times; you with a smile, you reading a book, you sniffing a sunflower.

maybe also you and him... holding hands or hugging...

stares at your face a way, way too long.

he tells himself it's to crave your features better and detailed.

even he doesn't believe that however.

he draws your eyes a lot.

his second favourite colour is your eyes hue.

he was never the best at writing romantic poems, and his hand writing is just........

so he insisted gets you a gift!

which is a rock.

yes you heard me, rock.

he would even paint a little face with a smile on it and leave it on your desk by the end of the day.

almost went bald from joy when you had it hanging as a small march on your bag.

and when you had a bad day, that goes unnoticed by him.

so imagine your surprise when you would find two pairs of rocks, one kissing the other who had a sad expression on it face.

that somehow that foster a blissful smile on your face. like that little action extinct any remains of the past negative you carried.

and bachira was more than happy to be the reason for your happiness.

definitely rambles about you to his mom.

and his monster.

he once ha a dream about you two smooching.

cried when he woke up because he wanted it to be real more than anything.

you two confessed first, at the same time.

and boy was he dancing on cloud nine at it.

he almost smooch you that moment and then.

reo.m

it's mister perfect everyone, cheer.

you fell first, he fell harder.

no, literally. you fell. tripped flat on the floor.

and somehow, that made the reo mikage heart move.

?????????

love at first (fall??) sight.

he definitely leaves a trail of gifts for you everywhere.

your chair, desk, locker, bag.

he switches between chocolate and flowers to letters and perfumes, necklaces, etc..

you say how he picked them?

easy, see something that reminds him of you, he buys.

and it's pretty foolish since he sees you in almost everything.

reo is convinced that you're within everything that shins beautifully.

he actually paid the teachers to let him be in the same classroom as you.

paid even more to get a seat next to you.

rip to whoever was sitting next to you.

he once heard that a guy was bothering you.

the next day the guy was the talking of school because he suddenly moved out of town due to his dad losing his job.

hm, must be karma then.

has a shrine of you.

but you didn't hear that from me.

talks about you none stop to nagi and ba-ya.

genuinely sobbed when he imagined you with someone else.

has a flight under your name.

made a makeshift doll of you so he can practice his confessions on.

had a mental breakdown of the idea of you rejecting him.

reo can the most horrible, miserable day to a human kind to live.

then he sees you smiling

BOOM

he's all happy and smiling again, also a little giddy.

you once greeted him good morning, the next day he was planing what ring would suit you the most.

had two planes to write on the sky: 'will you go out with me?' and your name next to it in a shade of a heart.

now, you definitely cannot reject that. (Please don't)

have a nice day everyone.

[jackoshadows]

It's so confusing and weird that Bridgerton introduced in world racism both with Lady D and Simon in season one of the show and in Queen Charlotte and at the same time they also want the audience to accept that somehow Marina Thompson or the dark skinned Indian Kate Sharma has more privilege and power than Penelope Featherington?

Kate Sharma was also poor, so much more than the Featheringtons. She depended on Lady D to host them. The Sharmas were looked down on by the ton because Mary Sheffield married an Indian. The Sharmas were disowned and ostracized by the Sheffields.

Kate was also an unmarried spinster. No one was asking Kate to dance. As much as Kate wanted love and romance and to dance at a ball wearing pretty dresses, she got none of that. She was also the woman on the sidelines watching as others danced and fell in love.

Racism and colorism is also very much a thing in eurocentric notions of beauty considering the setting and characters of Bridgerton is 99% white.

We got so little of Kate's backstory, of who her parents where - we didn't even get their names!! - of the trauma (explained for both Simon and Anthony using flashbacks) that had Kate overlooking her own happiness for that of her sister.

Despite bragging nonstop about the diversity of Bridgerton the showrunners thought that the white Featheringtons needed more screentime in season 2 rather than the South Asian family.

And Kate was planning on going back to India and work as a governess to pay for her livelihood. Because, you know, there's more honest ways of being a 'working woman' than running the equivalent of the regency 'Daily Mail' dragging other women down. The modiste Madame Delacroix, Kate planning to teach and Sienna in season one are all working to pay a living. Black, brown and lower class women looking to alleviate poverty.

And considering how much harder Kate already had it as an outsider in the ton, it wouldn't have been easy with Penelope using her gossip rag to describe the unmarried Indian woman as ' a Spinster of a beast'. What did Kate do to Penelope to warrant this? Nothing. Just a way for Penelope to make money at Kate's expense.

That's the thing I dislike the most about the way the character of Penelope is written on the show - her victims don't deserve her vitriol and are often in much worse circumstances than her. From Kate Sharma to the unnamed seamstress who apparently lost all her customers because Penelope wrote falsely about their work in the her tabloid as a bribe for Madam Delacroix.

And I think that's what I find problematic about the writing of the show and even the discourse surrounding it - when characters like Marina Thompson (the poor black cousin who would have ended up destitute on the streets because of Penelope) and Kate Sharma arguably have it far worse than Penelope Featherington as per the show's writing and yet we are supposed to have the most sympathy for Penelope because her crush Colin didn't love her back and she's a curvy white woman?

I guess that's the difference between how I perceive this world and these characters as a woc and the majority white female audience for this show and it's such a huge disconnect for me. I guess this is also partly because the show has this badly written and 'strangely toothless racism' as Ash Sarkar beautifully put it. As in the racism is treated in this world as a little problem solved by handing out a few titles to black people instead of being a white supremacist ideology which treated black and brown people as inferior, serfs and slaves.

From what little we got from season 2, Kate Sharma definitely did not have it easy navigating the ton as a poor outsider and that certainly contributed to her poor choices. She is also put through the wringer, treated like the other woman, is miserable for several episodes, had to apologize again and again and nearly die before Edwina forgives her!

In contrast Penelope's actions have hurt so many and yet she gets a pass by both the show and a fandom that wants Colin to grovel before her because of a single offhand remark and because he didn't return her affections.

Also making it clear here that I am not comparing Penelope to the male characters who always get the better writing, flaws and all. I am comparing Penelope to the female characters of colour - Kate Sharma and Marina Thompson.

I mean, Marina Thompson gets so much vitriolic and sexist hatred for not having told Colin Bridgerton the truth of her pregnancy. How dare Marina hurt this privileged white man Colin Bridgerton. When she was desperate to not end up destitute on the streets or get raped by old white men. And yet Penelope gets a pass for hurting women like Marina and Kate.

It continues a trend of white female characters never being held to the same standard as female characters of colour. Daphne sexually assaults Simon in season one and that was not even addressed on the show. Male rape is apparently no big deal because Daphne wanting children is what's important. It's Simon who has to apologize and within one episode resolve his trauma and accept being a father. This is despite both Daphne and Penelope having more screentime and more writing that builds their character unlike the stick thin writing given to Kate Sharma in season 2.

So yeah, I will be checking into season 3 to watch the ten minutes we get with Kate Sharma since we got so little of her in her own season and it's so singular to get dark skinned south Indian characters in a period drama romance like this. It's just the way the writing on the show, the production and even the fandom treats it's characters, especially characters of colour has been disappointing to say the least.

[bonefall]

Mapleshade Discourse O'Clock

It's that time again!!! SO I just kinda want to jot down all of my various thoughts about it as a story and just generally weigh in about Mapleshade.

I like the idea of Mapleshade more than the actual Mapleshade that is used throughout the books.

She has a really good gimmick-- to haunt Applekin though the generations. I don't like how they turn her into a generic "cat satan" for Tigerclaw's Fury and keep making her appear as a vain lackey demon.

I like her characterization in Mapleshade's Vengeance the most, of all her appearances.

But, I don't think my reading of the character depicted in MV is what the author intended.

See, I like MV as a story with no hero. The only blameless characters are the kittens who drowned and Perchpaw, while everyone else is some flavor of selfish, cruel, or vengeful. Everyone thinks they're in the right, but no one truly wins in the end.

Nothing about it was noble. Every tragedy that happened was utterly avoidable. In the end, everyone bears some responsibility for the pain and suffering that happened the day those children drowned.

BUT I'm pretty certain that the intended reading was that Mapleshade would be the one clearly in the wrong the whole time, as she justifies her own actions like a villain does.

Especially knowing how poorly the writers thought of similar female characters like Squilf and Leafp lying about the three, or Nightcloud being jealous her crummy husband is acting strange around another woman.

I feel justified in assuming that when Mapleshade is not happy she's being cheated on, or when she refuses to correct Frecklewish's record knowing it's unsafe if her kits are revealed as half clan, the writer really does think you're not supposed to take her side.

Because women should just not have emotions about being cheated on or something, and lying is unspeakably bad even if the truth puts you and your children in danger.

But. Y'know. We can all use the braincell for a moment and see that this is fucking stupid

SO when the book goes on to have Mapleshade ignore all the warnings about the swollen river, show both ThunderClan and RiverClan being obscenely cruel to her, and then walk across that bridge while insisting in her head that the deaths weren't her fault, I think the implication is obvious AND SHITTY.

Ergo I reject it completely. I can see what the book wants to say, and I think it says something trashy.

In spite of how badly the writer wants it to be Mapleshade's fault the kittens died, I say it was the asshole who threw a bunch of kittens out into the rain for being mixed race, actually.

Oakstar had the power here. Ravenwing had some power as well, but he makes it clear it wasn't his suggestion to throw the babies out into the woods.

And when it comes to Bridge Discourse, it was at least the afternoon, raining heavily, and Mapleshade was trying to get to RiverClan Camp. A straight shot across the stepping stones.

I think it is ridiculous to imagine an extremely emotional parent managing three very scared children, attempting to get out of the rain and dangerous wilderness before nightfall, would be rational enough to realize a large detour would be safer.

MAYBE the distance from ThunderClan Camp to the Bridge is equal to the distance to the Stones. But the distance between the bridge and RIVERCLAN Camp is longer.

I hope this goes without saying; but Frecklewish didn't deserve the Dark Forest.

Even in Banana World logic where she was sitting on the bank watching those kids doggy-paddle. Do not fucking jump in to save drowning people if you are not trained to do that.

I'm dead serious, this is the first thing you learn in any kind of water safety course. They WILL panic, you WILL get dragged down, you WILL become another liability someone else has to save instead of helping your initial target.

And that isn't even mentioning this being a flooded river. That's POOL safety.

In spite of how I think Mapleshade was right to lie, I do think Frecklewish being that upset and angry was understandable.

You're entitled to your feelings, but not how you treat people. She still attacked Mapleshade and called the kittens a slur.

That's what makes her interesting, though.

I don't think she deserves the Dark Forest, but Frecklewish's anger is an interesting trait. I don't like how a lot of defensive interpretations of her character end up downplaying how she acted at the exile

why does a woman being rightfully angry suddenly strike people as "unsympathetic." Girls can also say things in fury they don't fully mean. OR girls can rationalize their unjustified, ballistic response post-hoc out of pride.

Idk let girls be mad. Admit they were wrong without deserving HELL. I don't like the woobification impulse.

It's not really a hot take anymore I think, but Frecklewish is definitely only in the DF because the writing team judges women characters more harshly. Oakstar threw babies out in the rain in fury, and Ravenwing didn't stop it. But somehow only Frecklewish, a normal warrior, gets DF'd.

But what really rattles around in my head about the whole story is the way that the in-universe culture is able to suddenly value ethics like peace, forgiveness, and tolerance when MAPLESHADE is ready to throw those things out, but BEFORE then, it's well established that Clan culture is violent, vengeful, and intolerant.

One of our earliest scenes is Rainfall snarling at Mapleshade that he loves the way Birchface and Flowerpaw drowned. He's threatening that he'll kill even more ThunderClan warriors.

Over in ThunderClan, everyone is itching for revenge against Appledusk for those deaths, even though it seems to have been an accident. Oakstar even hates RiverClan well into sequel books for this.

But then later on, everyone acts Shocked Pikachu that Mapleshade actually went and GOT revenge.

And like, let's be real. This is a battle culture. Yes, by OUR standards Revenge Is Bad.

But in these books, so full of war and clan conflict...?

What I'm saying is that I wish the books let Mapleshade be a little more "controversial" in-universe. Like some cats actually frame the story very differently, and you can learn a lot about a person by who they think the hero is.

And how RiverClan responds to the drowned kids bugs me a lot tbh

We just established over in ThunderClan that there are people who think the babies were born filthy for being HalfClan.

We know everyone there stood by and watched as Oakstar threw them out into the rain-- only Ravenwing even seemed uncomfortable.

AND we know very well that in a few generations, TigerClan will rise. Which openly executed a HalfClan cat and wanted to kill 2 apprentices.

We KNOW the bigotry in Clan culture is deadly and unfair.

But then they go over to RiverClan and Darkstar is sad these three kids are dead? And RC is furious with Mapleshade for that?

Again, YES, you and me with OUR morals know that this bigotry is insane and spiteful. What I'm getting at is that IN-UNIVERSE half clan kittens and their parents face extreme discrimination. Even within this book.

It's odd to me that Darkstar refuses to let Mapleshade bury their bodies, sends her away for the death of the kids while saying it's "not the season for losing warriors" to Appledusk, and it's meant to come across as delusional that Maple thinks her babies were buried dishonorably

I wish more women in WC got so pissed off at the absolute injustice of it all that they went on a girl rampage. Perhaps it's my own taste, but I like it a lot more when the villain isn't entirely wrong and there's several angles you can read the story from. If she didn't do what she did, she would have been the only one who saw any consequences for anything that happened.

Anyway in conclusion uhhh idk murder is wrong. But Mapleshade's allowed to do it because she's a silly billy. Her greatest crime was not killing Oakstar also

[gemini-sensei]

My Best Friend, Really? | Jaime Reyes x Chubby!Reader

CW: spoilers for the movie, secret relationship, sneaking around, steamy but no smut. Request: What abt the reader being bsfs with Milagro and secretly dating Jaime? Tags: @elisiassideb1tch A/N: I love this but I'm not sure I did it justice, so I hope you all enjoy it <3

The Reyes home was familiar and homey everytime Reader came over, even after it was destroyed and needed a lot of repair. There was never a dull moment in that home, so of course Reader was there to help clean up and start over. No matter what, she'd always be there for her best friend Milagro.

It didn't hurt that Milagro's brother Jaime was smoking hot.

Reader was around so much, she knew about Jaime's secret. She was there to witness the Scarab choose him and it freaked her out. Everything that happened after - with Victoria Kord and Mr. Reyes dying - she saw them through it. She was there for Milagro and the whole Reyes family. She even helped save him.

It was also the even that pushed them together.

After everything, when they had a moment alone, Jaime approached her...

"Reader," he said, voice trailing off as he looked for the right words to say. "I know this has been a lot for you, trust me I know. But I'm glad you were there with my family, I mean, you're practically a part of my family."

"That's sweet," Reader had said, smiling. For a moment, it hurt. She thought he saw her as another younger sister, not something more. Her little crush on his was, well, crushed. But only for a moment. "Thanks for thinking of me that way."

"No, shit," he let out and licked his lips. "That's not what I meant."

"So I'm not like family?"

"You are but you're not."

"Jaime, you're not making any sense..."

"I'm sorry, this is coming out all wrong and- whoa!"

The Scarab, Khaji Da as Reader had come to know it, had used its connection to Jaime to push him into her. It's arms came out to brace against the wall, protecting him as always but effectively pinning Reader to the wall behind her. She stared up at him as he stammered an apology, but she wasn't listening very well. All she heard were the implications Khaji was trying to tell her. So, she took a leap of faith:

"Just kiss me already."

He smiled and did just that.

And while the beginning of their relationship was beautiful and bloomed into something fantastic and wonderful, there was one thing keeping them from sharing it with the rest of the world: Milagro.

She was rather vocal about her brother "staying out of their business" when Reader came over to hang out. When they were young, they'd go to her room and spend time trying new makeup styles to match their clothes, doing each other's nails as they talked about school and movies and whatever was happening in their lives. Jaime was never invited to such things. Whenever Reader took too long getting a drink from the fridge, it was because Jaime stopped her and Milagro would come in to drag her away.

"Go make your own friends," she'd say and stick her tongue out at him.

As they got older, the attraction between Jaime and Reader became too much to deny and they didn't try to stop it. They only hide it from his sister.

But as Reader walked up to the Reyes house, she realized how hard that becoming. When she sat with Milagro in the living room, watching TV, she realized how badly she wanted Jaime on her other side. The two laughed at the TV and made fun of the characters when they made dumb decisions, but deep down Reader wasn't having as much fun. She got too easily distracted when Jaime walked through the room.

Milagro caught her and groaned, rolling her eyes back in a dramatic eye roll. "You're not even paying attentions anymore."

"Sorry," Reader said and turned her attention to her best friend. She smiled even though he eyes wanted to cut back to Jaime. "Maybe we should watch something else? Or go out? We could go to the mall and make fun of all the poorly dressed mannequins."

Milagro hummed, giving her friend a strange look. Jaime walked through again and sparred Reader a look, smiling her way, making Milagro sigh. "Yeah, let's go. Are you driving?"

"You know it," Reader giggled.

That was only the beginning of everything coming undone.

As time passed, Milagro noticed her brother wearing stupid goofy grins whenever he was texting on his phone. He was out a little more than usual, aside from being the great hero Blue Beetle - though he definitely tried to use that as an excuse sometimes. She was keen on taking note of his avoiding questions about a girlfriend from their mother and nana. He was hiding a partner, Milagro just knew it, not that she could prove it though.

She tried to tease him for it but he brushed her off, saying things like "If I had a girlfriend, would you think I'd bring her around?" to which she'd say that if he did, she'd just tell his girlfriend all the embarrassing secrets she has on him. He'd rebuttal with "Another reason not to bring a girl here," with a heavy sigh.

One day, when Milagro was out, Jaime invited Reader over. They had the house to themselves as the rest of his family had gone shopping. They didn't have a lot of time, but it was enough for the two of them. They lay on his bed, entangled in each other as their lips melded together. Reader pushed her fingers into Jaime's soft hair and smiled into the kiss, almost breaking it. He nipped at her lower lip, making her moan.

Things were growing hot and Jaime pinned Reader to the mattress, straddling her hips to keep her down. He pulled away and muttered, "You're so beautiful, mi amor."

She smiled as he sat up on his knees and pulled his shirt off. Her hands wandered his slender waist and up to his toned muscles. He was too hot, burning her up just because she was looking at him.

"It should be illegal to be this hot," she told him.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her once more. His hands slid up her waist and squeezed her sides, making her moan and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. One of her hands went back into his hair, curling her fingers into the thick locks and tugging lightly. He moaned loudly, which would make her giggle if it weren't for his tongue exploring ever crevice of her mouth.

She gently bucked her hips up to further tease him, feeling his hard-on poke her belly. He groaned again and she knew she had him right where she wanted him, making noise and nearly whimpering for her, so she continued the motion.

He pulled away when it became too much. "Oh fuck, Reader, you're gonna-"

The door swung open with a lough exclamation of "Aha!" followed by a shocked "Oh my God!"

The couple turned to the bedroom door, where Milagro stood under its archway with wide eyes. They didn't say anything, shocked and embarrassed to have been caught like this.

They knew she was closing in on them, at least on her brother and his mysterious girlfriend. However, they had not yet figured out a way to tell her about them. Now they didn't have to worry about telling her at all, but this was exponentially worse than what they thought it could have been.

"My best friend, really?" Milagro asked, staring her brother down. Then she turned her attention to Reader. "My brother? Are you serious?"

Reader opened her mouth to say something, but closed it as she realized she didn't know what to say. Everything in her heart combatted her brain and she didn't know what was the right and wrong thing to say. She looked at Jaime, who had moved himself off of her to sit beside her. They were still very close, his bed only a single mattress which gave them little space to do much.

"Mili, I-" Jaime started, realizing that he needed to be the one to say something. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

She shook her head. "Oh, don't even try that."

"I'm serious," he said, grabbing his shirt and pulling it back on. "We wanted to tell you, but we just didn't know how."

"Well, let me help you out there," she said, smiling wide and obviously fake. She put on a pleasant voice. "Hey, sis, I just wanted to let you know that I'm fucking your best friend. Is that okay with you? What? It isn't? Well, about that..."

"It's not like that," Reader said, putting her face in her hands to hide the embarrassment she was feeling at that implication. She didn't blame her for thinking that, she'd literally walked in on them about to get it on, if they were even gonna go that far. She took a deep breath and looked up at Milagro. "We really like each other... we have for a while."

The sweet words Jaime had told Reader came to mind, how he'd always thought of her as beautiful. How when he thought he was going to lose everything, she was a part of that everything. She was a big part of his life and that wasn't going to change no matter what. They were close and it was an undeniable fact how that closeness had morphed into love.

"Please, don't be mad at her," Jaime said, looking back at Reader with soft, beautiful eyes. He stared at her for a moment before turning back to his sister and telling her, "I told her that you wouldn't like this. It's my fault it all happened like this. We just didn't want to upset you."

Milagro scoffed. "I'm not upset that you are together. I'm shocked Reader would wanna be with you. I mean, she was here for the kiddie pool incident. I'm more upset that you think I'd be upset about it. Yeah, you're my brother-" she looked at Reader next, "and you're my best friend, you didn't have to hide this from me."

"We're so sorry," Reader said, the guilt finally eating her up. However, with the secret exposed, it was starting to shift and disappear. Her heavy heart wasn't so heavy anymore. "We overthought it, I guess."

"Yeah, you did," Milagro sighed. She shook her head with a little eye roll. "So, how long?"

"Huh?" Jaime let out.

"How long have you two been sneaking around?"

"Four months."

"I knew it," she said and pointed a finger in her brother's face. "At least now you can't deny you have a girlfriend."

"Are you serious right now? That's what you're most concerned with?"

Reader giggled as she watched the siblings banter with one another. It brought some familiarity back to the situation and she was thankful for it. There was nothing better than having her best friend and her boyfriend getting along, well as much as they usually did at the very least.

"Just don't make out with me around, I don't need to see that," Milagro said. She stuck her tongue out in disgust to make her point. Then she moved her hands in circles to gesture to the room. "And whatever you two were about to do in here, don't do it when I'm home. O r actually, don't do it here at all. I don't wanna know you guys do it here."

It was Jaime's turn to roll his eyes. "Well, since you brought it up, you should know that we-"

"Ah! No, leave me out of it," she said and turned to leave. "Keep it to yourselves!"

Jaime smirked and turned to Reader, who was a little flustered after that. He eased it with a small kiss and sighed. "I guess we can always go to your place..."

"That might be for the best," she giggled. However, the mood was ruined, and all she had to say for now was, "She took that well."

They laughed together he hugged her, pulling her close to kiss the side of her face. She fell into a fit of giggles as he pulled her to lay with him on the bed, holding her close. It was all she needed at that moment and it was perfect. Though she expected a lot of teasing in the coming days, which was okay by her. She could take it so long as her boyfriend was by her side and receiving the same amount, likely more, of treatment.

[antiquery]

been thinking about Medea lately, and I think I’ve finally figured out why the attitude of “wow Medea was right, go off queen” (e.g. this post) really gets on my nerves: I think it’s sexist!

like, let’s be absolutely clear: Medea’s actions at the end of the Euripides play are deeply, deeply evil. Jason and Kreon treat her horribly, and there’s no excuse for their behavior, but like...Medea slaughters two innocent children and an innocent woman in cold blood, not to protect herself or someone else, but to ensure Jason’s suffering. that’s evil.

the idea that Medea could possibly be justified in such an action fundamentally requires us to hold her to a lower moral standard than a man in her same position. the implication is that Medea’s experience as a woman in Greek society entitles her to revenge at any cost: she has been wronged, so punishment is hers to exact. we don’t consider this acceptable when Achilles is asserting that his grief over Patroclus entitles him to the emotional torture of Priam, and in fact the great human moment of the Iliad is Priam’s plea to Achilles to return Hector’s corpse. same moral standard applies to Medea. her rage over her mistreatment is not the problem: her violence against innocent people in an attempt to drag Jason down with her is.

which is not to say that I think Medea is a one-dimensional character! I think Euripides was really onto something with the way Medea agonizes over what to do during the play, by turns committing to this great evil and shrinking back in horror at what she’s contemplating. I also like the emphasis he places on Medea’s divine origins, her connection to the world of the gods via both her bloodline and her practice of magic. it creates this sort of dualism in her character: there’s Medea the human woman, who’s deeply in love with Jason and in agony at his betrayal, who loves her children and is terrified of what will become of them, and of her, once she’s forced to leave Corinth. this Medea is angry and scared, helpless to save herself or her children, helpless to make Jason understand how badly he’s hurting her.

and then there’s Medea daughter of the sun, Medea the hero, whose response to Jason’s betrayal is to make his life a living hell. except Medea-daughter-of-the-sun and Medea-the-human don’t exactly share the same value set: the former is the latter with all of her humanity stripped away, whose purpose is wholly aligned towards divine justice. but divine-Medea is powerful, and if human Medea only lets her, she can make damn sure that neither of them ever feel helpless again.

honestly my ideal version of the play is a tragedy about Medea’s fall, whose central tension is whether the human part of her will give in to the divine part of her under the stress of betrayal and rejection. at the end of the play, Medea gets everything she ever wanted (power, glory, fear, vengeance)-- all it costs is her humanity. but I think that only works if you frame Medea’s actions at the end of the play as horrific, rather than a triumph; if you take the morality of her actions seriously, as opposed to justifying them prima facie because she’s been through hell.

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 3 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 2.5k

warnings: dubcon, teasing, degrading, established kidnapping, burns, abuse, power dynamics

You had never hooked up with anyone before, but from what you had learnt from sitcoms, there was usually some kind of big moment of regret when the character woke up the next morning. Maybe they realised they’d fucked someone they knew, or said something stupid while drunk, or do something they could never expect to find themselves doing. Well for you, the latter certainly applied - just not as fast as it did on TV.

  Waking up to Natasha’s arms slung across you was…homely. It was warm and gentle and tender and felt like everything you had imagined waking up to someone felt like. You wanted to stay there forever, willing the universe not to burden me with having to go to work. It was then that everything came back to you, along with the pain. 

  You tried to pry the spy’s hands off of you but her grip grew stronger the more you attempted to shimmy out of her hold, as though you were entrapped in quicksand. “Quit moving so much,” came Natasha’s rough voice, sleepy but still alert. Neither of you moved for a long few minutes until she dragged you closer to her and kissed your neck. “Good morning,” she muttered against you. Your hairs stood on end. 

  You didn’t reply, too busy trying to ignore the burning along your neck, stomach and thighs as you replayed the events of the night and questioned what the hell you were thinking. Well, you were clearly letting your body do all of it for you but why it had acted as it did you had no idea. Natasha’s hand wandered underneath your shirt to your breasts and you grabbed her wrist to pry it off, pissing the redhead off by doing so. The wrist you had tried to grab was holding yours with bruising force in under a second.

  “Don’t be a bitch,” Natasha warned before quite literally kicking you out of bed. You fell with a thud and looked back at the redhead with wide eyes. “Go shower,” she instructed as she moved around behind you. You turned around to see her getting out of bed too and stopped to stare back at you.

  “No,” you said, trying to appear as confident as you could when looking her in the eye. “You had your fun, now let me go,” you demanded, clenching your hands into fists as your breathing grew heavy. “I need to get my wounds sorted,” you continued as your eyes flicked to the scarlet sheets. Natasha had an unreadable expression as she stared at you, until it turned into an arrogant smirk.

  “You seemed to have your fun too,” she quipped, ignoring your second statement. You wanted so badly to slap her.

  “Fuck you,” you spat. Her smirk dropped. “This is kidnapping,” she huffed and rolled her eyes, walking around the outside of the bed and towards her wardrobe, completely unbothered by you.

  “Don’t be dramatic,” she said without looking at you, like you were a new pet she was training not to whine. You were too stunned to reply, instead trying subtly to shift your weight from leg to leg in an effort to shift the extra ton on your chest. “And work on your poker face, detka. You’re not fooling anyone with that scared puppy look.” The spy continued as she laid out two outfits on the bed and nodded her head towards the bathroom. 

  Feeling defeated and embarrassed, you headed for the bathroom without another word. You ran the tap to brush your teeth on autopilot but once you tried to steal a glance in the mirror to keep your eyes on the Avenger the brush went clattering into the sink as you took yourself in. Cuts and bruises everywhere. Dark fingerprints were littered across your arms, thighs, chest and, the most angry one, neck, accompanied by a scarlet stripe in the middle surrounded by smaller mirrored on my chest. The mark of Natasha was everywhere, and they were deep.

  The shower had more than enough room for you and ten others, yet you kept close to the corner with a small ledge to sit on. You didn’t turn around when Natasha’s bare front pressed against your back, trying your hardest to ignore her and hoped she would grow bored. Instead, she traced her fingertips across the tattoos on your arms with a hum while you continued to wash yourself. “They’re cute,” she commented. You didn’t reply. “Do you want any more?” Natasha queeried out of genuine curiosity as she continued to feel across the rest of your body. “Maybe here?” She continued, placing her hand on your hip. “Or up here?” Her hand ran across your chest. 

  You gave no response, giving your attention to the sole task of rinsing yourself of the night before. However, the spy knew if she pushed enough of your buttons she would hit the right one and she had all the patience she needed to do it. Her hand continued up to your neck and your whole body tensed. She grinned. “I would just love to give you some new ink here,” she said with a testing squeeze, threatening to reopen the cuts she had made less than eight hours prior. “Although I suppose you’re marked enough for the time being,” she hummed as she admired the blemishes she had imprinted. 

  You still didn’t respond as she retraced all of the marks she had taken such time in creating, as though she was admiring an art piece she had recently perfected. “You were so good for me last night,” she cooed as her hand fell to your hip and you  became all too aware of the feel of her breasts against you. “You took it all so well,” she continued, making you recall the images you were trying to suppress in shame. “And you loved every second,” Natasha added, just to add some salt to the wound. 

  “I didn’t,” you attempted to protest but the spy shushed you with a kiss. You didn’t have the energy to push away, so you also didn’t kiss back. Natasha didn’t like that and grabbed your jaw with enough force to make you part your lips for her to slip her tongue in. Her hand gripped your thigh in unison and this time, you really didn’t want it. You frowned and tried to move away but her hold stayed firm. 

  “You did,” Natasha insisted between kisses and dragged her nails up your thighs just as she did last night. You didn’t shiver. You didn’t react. You stayed still, trying to process the turmoil of it all. You hadn’t wanted it last night but then you had? But now you didn’t want it again but you really didn’t? You didn’t understand. It was all so new and you didn’t know what to make of your feelings or the situation they found themselves applying to. 

  The spy’s invasive fingers soon found themselves between your legs but stopped short. Natasha breathed steadily against your neck and crooked her own to look at your confused yet entirely unresponsive features. She then gave you a small kiss to the corner of your lips and pried herself off of you and out of the shower, leaving you standing there alone.

It was only once your fingers became wrinkled that you were able to tear yourself away from the soothing shower. Natasha was sitting on the balcony, half submerged in a plume of smoke from her cigarette. You didn’t take her for a smoker but wasn’t that shocked given how much of her character you, along with the rest of the world, had misunderstood. 

  On the bed was a thin navy blue sweatshirt that looked as though it would hang low like the shirt you had woken up in the day prior, a pair of plain white underwear, and some loose shorts that wouldn’t show under the sweatshirt. You slipped the outfit on without being tempted to look in Natasha’s wardrobe and hesitantly made your way to the balcony where the door was slightly ajar. 

  It was pleasant outside, a breezy summer midmorning to wake up the city before it grew warmer as the day went by. The spy was sitting close to the railing with a watchful eye over the city, not acknowledging your presence. She didn’t have to. You both knew you knew she knew you were there. 

  Though there was a table for Natasha’s ashtray, there wasn’t another chair for you to sit on so you stood awkwardly by the door for several minutes before moving close, still without being openly acknowledged, until you placed your hands on the railing and looked out at the city too. You felt Natasha’s gaze shift to you once you did and you wondered if she thought you were going to try and jump over. You wondered if you should. 

  You glanced down directly below to the busy street just outside the building. You had no idea how far up you were but you reckoned it was high enough that you would die before impact. Would it be on the news? Would it be investigated? Probably not, right? You weren't sure if Natasha was the only Avenger to be… corrupt, but you were sure that even if she was and the rest were as pure as they appeared, S.H.I.E.L.D and whatever higher powers would continue to protect her. 

  You looked towards Natasha, locking eyes with her interested ones as she took a drag. She would never let you jump. The assassin’s eyes stayed glued to yours, adamant on not looking away first. Those eyes were just as piercing and impossible to read as they were the day before now that the numbness you experienced that morning had faded and your wariness was back. You returned your gaze to the city and felt her do the same. 

  “What am I here to do?” You asked bluntly, still not understanding your role. “You said I’m here because you brought me home but…what is it you’re expecting me to do?” You turned to face her at the last word, hoping she would recognise how lost you were and having no idea that Natasha had seen that look countless times before. 

  “Come here,” was all she answered as she put a cigarette out and took another one from her pack. You took several cautious paces towards her until you were blocking her view of the city so she pulled you into her lap without any warning so that you were perched on her left thigh with your legs dangling between hers and her arm around your waist. You didn’t protest but you noticeably tensed.

  “Light this,” she instructed as she handed you the lighter and put the cigarette between her teeth. You fumbled with the lighter, surprised she even let you handle it but also under practised with the sparkwheel kind. Natasha smirked at your incompetence to complete such a simple task and hummed when you finally got the flame. It was all too tempting to keep it lit and place it against her shirt but she snatched it out of your hands as soon as the thought crossed your mind, shooting you a warning look when you risked a glance. Bitch.

  At that, you took in Natasha’s outfit of a plain black shirt and a matching leather jacket over it. It made her dark orange hair stand clearer against it as it hung loose again. It looked soft, like you would be able to run your hands through it and not feel any knots despite the light wind pushing it about. It was the only colour in her outfit of black too and for a moment you wondered if she ever wore any other colour or at least something looser than sweatpants. The clothes she had given you were loose and in subtle colours, so she must have something. The fact that they smelled of her gave it away. Had she done that deliberately? 

  When you looked back up she was already watching you with that gaze that made it seem like she was trying to decipher your thoughts. She brought her hand with the cigarette up to your face and pushed the strands of hair the wind had blown out of your face and behind your ear, just like they do in movies. You tensed and turned your head to make her hand fall.

  “Now what?” You asked again, adamant not to let yourself soften under her touch. 

  “Now you behave and I’ll get you a treat,” she said plainly.

  What the hell did that mean?

  “What kind of treat?” You asked slowly, unsure of what it could mean. “Like…you let me go?” You tried and was met with a condescending chuckle, like a child had just asked to have every sweet in the store. 

  “That’s cute. I was thinking more like a notepad and some pencils,” she replied vaguely. You narrowed your eyes thoroughly confused. 

  “What?” 

  “You like drawing don’t you? I’ll get you something to draw with,” Natasha shrugged. 

  What the actual hell?

  “How did you know that?” You questioned immediately. The spy met your eye, unconcerned by what she had let slip and exhaled through her nose with an all knowing smile. 

  “I know a lot about you, detka,” she said lowly, bringing her hand up to your cheek again although this time you could feel the heat radiating off her cigarette unnervingly close to your face. 

  “If that’s true then you’ll know the only thing I want from you is to let me go,” you bit back and the redhead’s smile dropped. You held your breath as she stared back at you before you were broken from the trance by a searing heat on your thigh. You yelped and looked down to see Natasha’s cigarette but pushing into your leg, you hadn’t even noticed when she had moved it there.

  “Stop!” You pleaded and tried to push her hand away. 

  “You should be grateful for everything I’m doing for you,” the spy practically growled as she watched you writhe around in her lap in pain only withdrawing her hand once she deemed you to look pathetic enough. You grabbed at the burnt skin and leapt off her lap. Surprisingly, Natasha let you flee back inside towards the bathroom, a sob threatening to rip from your throat and only allowing it to do so once the door was shut behind you.

  You fumbled with the removable shower head and put it on a cool setting, placing it over the red mark on your thigh for as long as you could bear and hoped it would aid in muffling the sound of your crying as a wave of hopelessness crashed over you. Your skin became numb and you took the water away to see the mark growing darker.

  God, you hated her so much.

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

HI ERIC HELLO PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

i literally can't stop thinking about something

i loveee re6 AUs with luis, but

death island!luis !!!!

specifically, a scenario where he saves leon instead of/with rebecca. like imagine him working with rebecca on the vaccine and delivering it to the island to save leon and the rest 😭😭

and i actually see two scenarios here

either luis is obviously alive and all, and leon knows it, and it's just, hey! my husband's here to save the day!!

OR it's a big reveal lol. rebecca shows up there like, 'a friend helped me', and it's LUIS there with her. like, i know rebecca is super capable and she made the vaccine all alone in the movie , but just imagine if it was actually a bit more complicated, so she would have to reach out for help, and who would be better than luis

i NEED to see luis and rebecca team up, they'd work so well together 😭😭

and older serennedy!!!!! omg

i just need to see older luis 😭😭 and the parallel with him delivering the suppressant in re4, and now the vaccine

i don't know what i wanted to say with this and i really didn't think it through that well, and it's rushed, but i really need to share these thoughts 😭

@silverhexrt HI SO UM. THIS ASK WAS SENT IN JUST OVER A WEEK AGO and it gave me SUCH AGGRESSIVE brain worms that I was like Oh this would make for SUCH a cute little Drabble!!!!! But then I just. Kept going. So I accidentally made a whole entire fic for you!! I really truly hope you don’t mind!!!!!!!!! ;^^/

I know this blog is more of a character analysis blog so if you or anyone else still wants to talk to me about the LOGISTICS of what Luis in Death Island would look like I’d be MORE THAN HAPPY TO RAMBLE cuz I am SO FASCINATED by how that would work character and legalities wise,,, but uh for now!! I hope you don’t mind this little thingymadgig I made!!!

Fatigue was the overwhelming sensation dragging Leon’s body down. His breathing was labored and his skin burned against the Velcro of his protective gear- far from unfamiliar territory in terms of the worst symptoms he’d survived. But this somehow felt so, so much worse.

Leon felt like he was dying. Like actually dying. Which was downright terrifying.

He hated that he even knew what dying felt like. Leon could easily pick up on the little ways his body began to shut down; it felt like he couldn’t breath in far enough to fill his lungs, his limbs felt weighed down by an invisible force, his vision was blurry… except, this time, it was his own body killing him from the inside-out.

He was much more used to- even comfortable with- the close brush of death being from the hands of a Bioweapon or loose debris crushing his body. Leon at least had some level of control in those scenarios. He could kick and wriggle and spit and cuss out whatever was holding him down until a miracle freed him and he could load bullets into the face of whatever was hunting him.

But Leon couldn’t run from his own body, no. And oh, how badly did he wanna run until his legs burnt beneath him.

Leon had only ever felt that inherent, gut-wrenching urge one other time. One other time when he was on the brink of death and freedom alike; warm tan hands and cold needles in an isolated village so far from home. Leon could’ve taken the medicine and ran. He could’ve watched the world burn from behind his lovers back as they chased windmills without a care in the world.

He could’ve faced death in the eye. He could’ve taken the blade of the knife for him. He could’ve been just a fraction of a second too late for Ashley. Oh, the possibilities.

What a weird time to be thinking about Valdelobos. Maybe it was just his oxygen-deprived brain desperately trying to connect the dots for one last dream. Like falling asleep with the TV on and having a dream about the movie you’d just watched. Arias had his own ‘inspirations’ from Los Illuminados, after all. Maybe he was just trying to think of one last happy memory to drift off to.

Leon hoped dying would be a little bit like falling asleep. He was never religious, never superstitious- but deep down he hoped that he’d be reunited with the loved ones he’d lost. Finally, finally getting the chance to feel those warm palms against his cheek that he missed oh-so dearly.

Leon sighed and let the concrete below his hands wobble a little. He could just barely make out Chris and Claire’s labored breathing from behind him- the only other thing keeping him grounded.

But god was it getting hard. He couldn’t tell if it was just the pure exhaustion or the virus or what, but Leon’s head felt so heavy. Heavy enough that it almost felt as though somebody was holding it up for him. He let himself pretend, just for a moment, that it wasn’t just his imagination. That the warmth on his cheek wasn’t his flushed skin and were instead the hands of a lover, keeping him upright and rested against a beating heart that Leon was sure was just the blood roaring in his ears.

He let himself pretend that the stroke he felt against his cheek was his lovers thumb. A lover so considerate that they’d wipe the blood off of his skin and tuck the loose hair behind his ears. He pretended that the murmuring of his ears giving in was somebody talking to him, whispering comfort in his final moments.

Leon almost let himself give in completely to the imaginary man holding him- the distant scent of leather and cigarettes felt so real, after all- but a cold prick against his neck and the immedie, cold relief of fluids beneath his skin snapped him back to reality.

His breathing came back to him in time with his heartbeat, his fingertips pulsed with the sudden pumping of blood, and…

The feeling of somebody holding him hadn’t gone away.

His cheek was still warm with another man’s hand. His nose still stung with the smell of leather.

His heart was still beating in time with somebody else’s.

Leon hesitated. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew he was just dreaming- that he’d look up and the vision of the man he yearned for every night would disappear like a mirage. He wanted to keep them closed and pretend for as long as possible. Until-

“Leon? ¿Corazón? Mierda, Rebecca, he’s not responding-“

Leon’s eyes opened just slightly.

He was staring down at the concrete, somebody must’ve moved him to get access to his neck easier. But he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t dreaming of the arms clad in white wrapped around his shoulders and the ringlets of curls that fell around his vision, shielding him from the fluorescent Alcatraz prison lights.

Warm hands went back to stroking his cheek.

Leon wasn’t dreaming.

“Leon? Oh, please wake up,”

His voice sounded so broken, so quiet. Leon had never heard of it like that. It broke his heart.

“I can’t- I can’t leave you here, not like this, not again, please…”

Leon couldn’t take it anymore. He was terrified to roll over and face the man he’d chased in his dreams for so long but he had no other option. He’d rather he disappear and it all be his imagination than hear him this sad ever again.

Leon turned his head and blinked up at Luis like a newborn deer. His big, brown eyes were wet with tears but that stupidly charming smile was unmistakable.

“Hey there, Leon…”

Luis managed to croak out, the hand against his cheek trembling from the tears. Leon reached his own shaky hand up to brush Luis’ long, grayed locks out of his face just as he had done moments before for him.

“I must be dreaming,” Leon huffed out, and Luis chuckled, shaking his head and the tears from his reddened cheeks at the same time.

“If you’re dreaming, then so am I, I’m afraid”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Luis chuckled and Leon wasn’t far to follow suit. Even with the end of the world on his shoulders- even with Dylan fighting tooth-and-nail to break down his, Jill’s and everyone else’s spirits- Leon still found time to laugh with Luis like it was autumn of 2004 all over again.

“Just like old times, eh, Sancho?” Luis gave a little sniffle, and while Leon had more than too many questions to ask- how he was even alive was obviously the most pressing- he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Yeah,”

He let himself rest his head against Luis’ chest. Heart beating strong, almost as if to mock Leon for ever doubting his lover's strength.

“Just like old times, Don Quixote…”

[lovesickeros]

☆ the dove

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings violence, blood {☆} word count 0.7k

Her hands are weapons, forged in a tragedy as much as a war of ash and blood that seeps into the earth and rots it from within. To them, however, she is salvation. Her hands are a kindness, not a threat. She sees it in their puffy, red eyes just brimming with tears, their fragile body so delicate and weak is still remains marred by wounds new and old – the gold still stains their skin, even long after it had been washed away.

She has seen it all – and she takes the injured dove beneath her wing with the sickly sweet promise that someday she shall mend its broken wings and teach it to fly again.

And in their stupor, they do not see her clip their wings.

It is for the best.

The wolves still salivate below the nest, waiting for her little dove to fall again – no, she shall not send her little bird to fly when it will just fall into their waiting maws once again.

This..this one is hers, she has decided.

Her little bird who dreams of the sky and the woman who clips their wings..what a tragic pair they must make, she thinks.

Not for her, of course. Yet not to them, either, unaware of the way she grounds them and keeps the key to their cage tightly in her fist.

"Tsaritsa?" The soft, meek lilt of the little bird draws her from her reverie, and she smiles – all teeth and little else, wolfish and predatory.

Yet the bird sees nothing but love in the sharp points of her canines.

As it was meant to be.

"Yes, little bird?"

She coos in honeyed tones, brushing her cold, cold hands against their skin, reveling in the way they shiver and shake beneath the ever present chill in her very bones. They do not fear the claws that ghost across their skin, and the smile they offer that illuminates their eyes like stars only proves her right – she wants to devour them whole. To see the stars in their eyes burn out beneath her teeth, their golden blood burn upon her tongue and down her throat.

"You promised to take me to the gardens today, remember?"

Her pearly, sharpened fangs peer out beneath her lips as she grins wider, unnerving to all but the little bird who sees not the wolf but the wool it wears, her hands finding their place upon their shoulders as she whispers into their ear.

She will guide her little bird where they cannot go, where their clipped wings cannot take them.

She will give them that bittersweet taste of freedom and then watch them try to catch the stars..

Just to drag them back down to earth where they belong.

"Of course, Creator – I am a woman of my word, am I not?"

Such sickly sweet lies come to her with ease – she lies and she lies and they do not see past the woolen cloak of the wolf until its jaw has snapped around its throat and its blood has painted the world a shimmering gold.

She will delight in that, too.

"If I may be so bold, Creator, you have been distant lately..have you grown tired of me already?"

Her words were as sharp as a blade, yet as dull as a rock, as sweet as they were dangerous. Like watching a mouse trap luring in its prey, she would snap it shut as soon as the little bird strayed too close.

"No! No, that's not..you've just been busy lately, I didn't want to intrude."

They remind her so much of a rabbit in those moments, and she so badly wants to know what would happen if she just took a small, insignificant bite..yet she restrains herself with a far too wide smile, her jaw clenched so hard she almost thinks they will hear it creak.

"Intrude? You could ever hardly intrude, Creator – what is mine is yours. Though, perhaps I shall have to lock you in my room to ensure you compensate me for depriving me of your presence."

In just a few short words, she snares the rabbit – her little bird, her Creator. They will see nothing but the sickly sweet lure of her smile, letting out a pretty laugh of their own as they press closer, like a bird wandering into the open maw of the beast lying in wait.

"As long as it has a nice view, I suppose I won't mind."

They jest, but she does not. And oh, how easy it is to ensnare an unsuspecting prey.

"Of course, Creator – just for you."

It won't be long until her little bird returns to its gilded cage, now. Permanently.

It is better that way.

[bl4nchetts-lvr]

New Year's Kiss

Character: Carol Aird

Ship: Carol Aird x F!Reader

Word count: ±900

Genre: Fluff

23:31

It was a cold december night,You were walking downt he street full of christmas lights and slippery snow. As you got to the very familiar door,behind which you've made many beautiful memories,you knocked on it.

A few minutes later she openned the door. Carol. She looks as beautiful as ever:

Blonde,slightly wavy hair,her red lips,baby blue eyes,fair and pale skin. Her red dress which was tightly on her beautiful,attractive body.. the way it clung to her small waist,the skirt was tightly on her soft hips which made your breath get stuck in your throat.

She smiled at you,at her dear friend and said with her soft, yet raspy from cigarettes voice:

"Ah,Y/N,you finally came! Come on in,what took you so long,dearest?"

There it is. That nickname.. "Dearest".

As she refers to you by that name,your heart sinks for a second down to your stomach. Your eyes widen ever so slightly and you take a sharp breath in:

"Oh,just the usual .. That damn traffic and the snowy roads. But i came till midnight,so.."

You laughed a little,as you stepped into the house and took your shoes off. You held a present in your hand. It was for Carol's daughter,Rindy,a very nice little girl..just like her mother.

23:47

You didn't really plan on celebrating the New years,you didn't feel like it. But since Carol invited you,you couldn't say no.

She is just captivating,she can get anyone under a trance with her beauty,raspy voice and those hypnotizing blue eyes.

To be honest,you felt something for Carol ever since you met her 2 years ago. It was an accidental meeting,but yet it holds a huge part in your heart since it changed your life completely.

You remember every little detail about that day: what she wore on that sunny day in August,what she ordered in the Café you worked at..

"Dearest,what are you thinking about?" You heard Carol ask.

You felt her hand on your back. As you looked at her,your e/c eyes were met with her baby blues. The mascara only enhanced her long eyelashes,the red lipstick which she always wore made her look even more seducting.

"Oh..well,nothing really,just..just our first meeting."

You shrugged it off and took a sip of your champaigne. You heard her giggle. Oh,her voice..the voice you can't get enough of.

"Silly girl,i thought it was something serious.."

She sighed,but then she continued:

"I think about it all the time,too. You looked so beautiful in your work uniform.. and the coffee you made me was the best one."

The compliment made your heart fill with warmth and your cheeks go slight pink,you'd never expect her to compliment you in such way.

23:57

You and Carol were on the balcony,smoking. The air was chilly,it send slight shivers down your spine,but the cigarette somehow made you feel warmer.

You were looking at her. She looked ethereal:

Her blue eyes shone under the moonlit sky,her fair skin looked even paler and softer,her hair was slightly flowing with the chilly wind. The way she held the cigarette in her delicate hands with vibrant red nail polish,the way she put it close to her soft lips you wanted to kiss so badly,even the smoke she blew out was beautiful..

"Y/N could i tell you something?"

She asked.

"Oh .. of course."

You looked at her,taking a dragged from your cigarette that she so offered you a few minutes back.

"I don't know how you will react to this..you may find me disgusting,you may hate me..may never want to see me again and i may lose you,but i have to be honest with you."

She turned around and looked into your eyes.

"I love you .."

You heard these words come out of her soft lips as you froze.

"The first day we met,that's when i realized i felt something for you..and now that we've spent almost every day together throughout these 2 years, i realized i am in love with you." Her usuallu calm voice was strained. Aird took a deep breath in. "Please,do not hate me,dearest. You mean the world to me.."

You were quiet,you could not believe the woman you fantasized about,cared the most for and loved with your whole hesrt had confessed her feelings to you.

You could see tears in her beautiful eyes,they were full of many emotions like fear,worry,sadness and confusion. She waited and waited for your answer. She wanted to see if it was the end. The end of everything.

You came up closer to her without breaking the eye contact.

"Oh,Carol.. i love you too. I could never imagine you being in love with me.. It all feels unreal right now."

When the older woman heard your words,she let out a shaky breath of relief and smiled,showing her smile lines you love so much.

She came closer to you,putting her cold yet soft hands on your cheeks and looked into your eyes.

00:00

Carol leaned in and put her lips onto yours. The kiss sent a soft electricity down both of your bodies,it was full of love,happiness and relief.

It was not the end,as has Carol thought,No,it was the start of everything.

The start of a beautiful,yet forbidden love story.

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

Happy new years everyone. I hope you like it.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 27)

Tw: religious mentions, short chapter

its mostly filler and like transition material, but only 2 of the options will introduce a new character which may or may not be relevant to the story

man what the hell am i talking about i barely follow my own rules, just chose what yall think best

VOTE BELOW FIRST 20 VOTES ONLY COUNT

Part 28

"Alright! Let's go!" Evangeline hooked her arms around yours and dragged you away. Montgomery had to catch up after you and her.

__

"Will you shut the hell up?" Montgomery hissed through his teeth.

"I'm just saying, (name) wouldn't have agreed with you saying 'Anita Bath' if you weren't stinky." She took another bite of her pepperoni pizza slice.

"Why are you friends with her?" Montgomery turned to you, exasperated and desperately wishing that you would send her away.

You shrugged and ate your slice. You were secretly grateful that Montgomery came by because you forgot to bring Yves's lunch again. If it wasn't for him, you would have starved until evening. Or you're forced to use your allowance from Yves and Montgomery to buy something- you'd rather save that money for something else.

Then something came to his mind. "Hey, goldie. Ya' said something happened between y'all and that freak this mornin'. What was that about?"

You tensed up, but Evangeline is as cheerful and calm as ever.

"Oh, he just wanted me to stay away from (name). That's all." You stared at her in disbelief. Why would she disclose that?

Montgomery furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

She tapped her chin and hummed. "I think he's jealous."

Montgomery scoffed in response. "Typical of those rich bastards. They'll try to isolate their victims so they ain't got no escape until they're done with them."

You felt like your eyes were about to pop out of your sockets when Evangeline nodded in agreement. Who's side is she on?

"And it's as if (name) would want a lil' stuck-up brat like you." Evangeline shot him a nasty look and placed her hands on her hips.

"Hey, that wasn't nice."

"Whatever, twerp." He dismissed her, taking another slice and handing it to you, seeing that you just finished your first one. You're too hungry to care what this gesture might mean, so you just take it off his hands.

"Stinky." She stuck her tongue out at him. Montgomery flipped her off.

This is... a very sibling-like dynamic you're witnessing. Although Montgomery outwardly dislikes her, you think that they're working together towards something. And it's making your gut instinct go haywire.

You wish Yves is here so badly. He knows what to do.

You turn your head to look at the lockers where your phone is charging.

While they were bickering, you stood up and went to check on your phone. You pressed the correct combination of numbers on the keypad and waited for the locker door to swing open. You unplugged your phone and prayed hard it was enough to turn it on.

A minute has passed and it still isn't turning on. You sighed, replacing the cord and allowing it to charge longer.

You returned to your seat, only to see Evangeline and Montgomery listening to a third person standing up next to them. They're holding a stack of papers, and your unwanted companions are holding a piece in their hands.

"Hi there." They greeted you. "I was talking to your friends about our club, here is a flyer with all our details. Feel free to contact us if you're interested."

You flip the glossy paper over, it says:

"Like to talk? Like to convince? Want to make friends? Join our debate club!"

The stranger showed you, Evangeline, and Montgomery where their phone numbers are located on the paper, the names of their social media pages, and meeting times. Which was apparently from 12pm to 5pm daily.

"Don't y'all have classes at these times?" Montgomery asked.

"Well, not all of us do. Anyone can feel free to come in or leave as they like. The session concludes at five in the evening, though."

All three of you gave them a response of acknowledgment.

"We hope to see new faces! I'll get going now, bye!" They walked away and began conversing with other people, promoting their club.

You stared at it. People were promoting their clubs last semester, but you never joined any of them. Maybe you should heed Yves's advice and put yourself out there so that you're not stuck with Evangeline, Montgomery, and Yves as your only friends.

"What do you think, (name)?" Evangeline asked you. "Are you going to join? I'll come with if you do."

You didn't respond verbally, but your body language should be expressing discomfort.

"Sweetheart, I think you're better off joinin' this." Montgomery took out a folded brochure from his pocket.

You tried your best to smoothen it, but it was crumpled beyond repair.

It seems to be a promotional medium for the university's youth group. Sponsored by the Catholic Church.

He wants you to join... a Christian club?

"Y'all should be findin' Jesus. You'll learn a thing or two about work-life balance from those bible studies."

You saw a mischievous glint in Evangeline's baby blues and you know that it's not going to end well.

"Wow, Monty! That's so Christian of you to harass (name), and give them gifts and food in exchange for something you want from them! Look! (Name) is already following in the steps of Christ. Like in 1 Peter, chapter 2, verse 20: When you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. Great job taking his bullshit!" She clapped her hands and giggled madly.

Montgomery shook his head and looked at her with great incredulity. "What the hell are you even talkin' about?! Y'know what, I don't care. Run ya' mouth all you want."

He turned to you. "Trust me, if you wanna join a club, yer' better off joinin' this one." He rubbed your forearms in his hands.

"Didn't you say we're grown? (Name) can totally make their own decision on which club they want to join."

Montgomery narrowed his eyes at her but didn't say anything in retaliation for once.

"Which club will you be joining, (name)?"

[kurov1864]

How Milgram characters act when drunk

For legal reasons they are all of drinking age I swear!! Please don't cancel me I just wanna write them a lil silly :(

Not Amane tho

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

Haruka: Clumsy and emotional drunk. It's like his normal personality, but emphasized by a hundred times. You have to pay extra attention to your words because when he's drunk, he can take any sentence you say and twist it so badly he'll convince himself that you think he's the scum of the earth. He's also quite clumsy, slurring his words, mixing up which hand is which, accidentally smacking your face when trying to hug you. Be patient with him, would you? He's trying his best.

Yuno: Bitter or happy drunk. It depends on her mood honestly. If she's drinking around fun and lively people, she'll be a happy drunk. The life of a party, teasing and flirting around, doing drunk karaoke, basically having an all around good time. If she's not in a good mood though… she'll become a bitter drunk. She'll let her usual sweet and cheerful facade slip and become her natural pessimistic self, muttering about her regrets and whatnot.

Fuuta: Sleepy drunk. He's literally the type to start off strong and rowdy then nod off in the middle of the conversation. His energy would slowly start to ebb during the early night, and he'll be completely knocked out by the time it's 11pm.

Muu: Emotional and sleepy drunk. She'll be crying left right and center about the unfairness of the world, trying to rationalize and convince everyone that she's the victim, all while slurring her words and eventually nodding off.

Shidou: Wistful drunk. He will reminiscence about his family 90% of the time, which would then lead him to tear up slightly. If you manage to get him in the other 10%, he'll talk about the "good ol days" with you, laughing about past experiences and maybe even complain about the new generation together, who apparently think it's acceptable to stay up writing headcanons about characters that don't exist at 3:55am.

Mahiru: Happy and affectionate drunk!! I think that's pretty obvious. She'll be giggling at everything and nothing, all while slinging herself over your body and trying to physically mush you together because she's just so full of love for you!!

Kazui: Impulsive and nostalgic drunk. We know that Kazui has lots of things he wants to act on. Alcohol is a very good way of making him forget about his worries and simply doing what he wants. When he gets tipsy he already would be spilling his life stories out. Good luck trying to get him drunk though, he has a highhhh tolerance.

Mikoto: Another friendly and affectionate drunk. Very warm and approachable, would definitely drag you to a couch just to cuddle. He'll want to talk about his lost passions and interests that he could never pursue because of his workload, telling you his plans for projects he would never pursue.

Kotoko: Talkative drunk. It's just her true personality without all the layers of wariness. She'll discuss with you about the ethics of her "job", the flaws of the legal system, the fucked up way that victims are treated in this society. Very passionate and doesn't have as much self-control as she does when she's sober, so be careful not to piss her off too much lmao

Es: Emotional and affectionate drunk. They WILL cling to you to make up for the amount of affection they have not received during their time as a warden. Please comfort them and tell them they're okay. Please. On an unrelated note, they can also get really passionate just like Kotoko. Just more open to discussion I suppose. Might let a few details about the prisoner's MV slip to you, but they'll never try to purposefully tell their story without consent :D

Jackalope: If he gets fed alcohol he'll die. Good riddance.

[beesmygod]

hmmm. was olga more "respectable" than maxine, for lack of a better word? we know she was the head of the coven, but would that mean respect from people outside of magic practitioners? or because of the way the world is set, there is not really a sharp divide between people that meddle with magic and spirits and people who dont? im asking bc i find the theme of legacy super interesting when it comes up (do people think that maxine is dragging the gottwin name through the mud? or do they shrug their shoulders bc who gives a damn about what an exterminator does and doesnt do?)

this is a good question and warranted a good answer, sorry for the delay.

there are a couple things at play here:

the position of "town witch"/coven leader was once significantly more prestigious than it is today. what used to be a position as essential as the fire or police chief has been worn away by technological advancements; her position was essentially replaced with extermination as a global business model after the rise of the cheap, electronic anti-ghost devices. maxine inherited a defunct position and failing business.

the divide between those who practice magic and those who don't is, funnily enough, the same as my view on why people make art and others don't: they don't enjoy doing the process. its messy, its complicated, it takes a long time, doesn't have guaranteed results, and it involves dead things in one way or another. sometimes it's just easier to call someone to do the process for you when you can't be bothered to work on your pronunciation of magic words. in this way, a witch is sort of like a plumber or a mural artist. explicitly for hire to do something you don't want to deal with yourself because it might be out of your skill range/take too long to learn the skills. so olga's reputation did suffer a little bit from the irrational public assessment of extermination as a "messy" business.

there's also an unfortunate stain on the gottwin name that maxine inherited long before her grandmother died: her father ran away from home in his teens because he and olga fought viciously and publicly. no one heard anything else about him until he died, and it was a surprise to everyone (including olga) that maxine even existed at all. so the rumor mill started churning: what did olga do that upset her son so badly? by the time olga died, people seemed to understand that the family was cracked beyond repair; behaviors that were more acceptable in the decades before the events of the comic were looked at in hindsight as painful and cruel. and since maxine, public nuisance, was the end result of olga's work it's hard for the public not to lay the blame at her feet.

so, maxine is caught in a sort of weird nostalgic hell where people can simultaneously tut-tut her for not being enough like her grandmother or for being too much like her. lol. this was a ramble but i hope it was interesting. im folding most of this into the comic but a lot of it i just try to keep in my brain when writing and thinking about them both.

ive been thinking more and more about olga as we approach parts where we're be flashing back to maxine's childhood and approach the next (final?) book. "books" are the huge overarching storylines as opposed to individual chapters, so there's still a lot of AGS to go. i want to explore character motivations so much i just need the power and energy to do so again.

[ashleyh713fanfics]

Dazai x Odasaku's Little Sister Ch19 and Ch20

Double Upload:

Chapter 19: "I Want To Be Your Entire World"

Summary: The one thing Dazai craved more than anything was for him to be wanted by someone to be needed until he was the center of their entire world. So when that suddenly goes away, the boy frantically does everything and anything to get it back, even exposing a part of himself that has alway been so impossibly scary. But if it made Odasaku's sister look at him again, then it was worth it.

Chapter 20: "Let's Kiss and Find Out"

Summary: As both Dazai and Odasaku's little sister share in one nightly overindulge, feelings and words become messy, revealing the true intentions of the demon prodigy and the shame that comes with it. And when she trusts the demon with a kiss, Dazai wonders how he can possibly honor Odasaku's wish when he clearly desires to ruin her.

Warnings: pm!sixteen year old dazai, underage drinking, forced kiss talk, consensual kiss, messed up views about touch/sex but not in detail, death, murder, suicide mentions, manipulation on both sides, odasaku death mentions, dazai being a simp and a clingy baby boy, dazai's port mafia black soul is prominent here, dazai is also a little bottom bitch here for real.

(This is chapter nineteen and twenty of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. I'll link the master list below so you can get the full story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Master List Here

A03 Here

Work Count: 18k (long one for you)

Chapter 19:

"I Want To Be Your Entire World"

Asagao didn’t talk much on the way back to Oda’s apartment and Dazai could immediately tell the difference between her usual over exaggerated demeanor and this new placid one. And to be completely honest, he didn’t like the latter at all. 

Mostly because he was used to the girl talking his ear off about random things and ideas while he dragged her along the streets of Yokohama, the tone of her voice always so happy to be in the moment with him, wherever it was. 

She was like a golden retriever in that aspect, always annoying and always eager for his attention. And though Dazai hated dogs, he liked always being the center of her world in every single aspect. It fed into his selfish and self centered desire to be wanted, to be needed by another person. 

But right now, her center wavered, the girl not looking around at all in order for her eyes to stay trained to her feet as he dragged her by the wrist and into the apartment. 

Dazai felt the loss immediately, the boy’s fingers growing fidgety like the worst withdrawal of his life. She’d hadn’t looked at or acknowledged him once and it was starting to make him feel anxious and twitchy. 

He didn’t realize how badly he relied on her attention until it had been taken away like this. Now he wanted to do anything and everything to get it back, to make those eager, waiting, pretty little expressions of hers to focus back on him like the simp she was. 

I mean, she said that he was her lifeline, right? He was the reason that she was in Yokohama, looking for her big brother in his stories. So why was she now treating him so insignificantly like any old stranger on the street? 

No, he hated that, he didn’t want to be a stranger, he wanted to remain her entire world. 

Watching her wordlessly close the door behind her, Asa then quietly slipped from her grip before sitting down at her usual spot by the table in order to lay her head on the surface with a suppressed groan. 

The boy then let out a sigh of his own, Dazai knowing immediately where the disconnect stemmed from. It was that stupid slugs fault, he was the one that made her act so out of character and distant. 

And the executive had mixed feelings about Chuuya’s stupid reaction to Asagao. Sure, he expected the ginger to not take well to her manipulative tendencies but it seemed like his darling had put too much faith into a guy with barely two working brain cells. 

Of course Chuuya wouldn't have understood her, he wasn’t smart enough to do so. Asagao was a unique being, an acquired taste that was rejected by most people in the world so of course the slug wouldn’t be able to see just how special she is. 

But it seemed like Asagao expected too much from the idiot, thinking that he could and now she was doomed to live with the inevitable devastation of disappointment that came afterwards.

It was her fault for doing so, for thinking that Chuuya would understand her in the same kind of capacity that Dazai could. 

Yet in a sick sort of messed up way, Dazai was happy that this was the result, because that meant that he wasn’t going to be replaced. She wasn't going to go off with Chuuya instead and leave him alone in the dark. 

That slugs reaction had helped him in the long run, and even though Asa was sad about it, he was glad. If she was happy about their meeting and Chuuya actually gave her a chance then who knows what could’ve happened? 

Dazai didn’t like to think about that, about the possibility of that hat rack taking her away to a place he could never reach. 

No, Chuuya couldn’t be her center, he couldn’t be her lifeline. 

That was his job. 

And Dazai knew he wouldn’t have been able to bear seeing her shift her attention elsewhere, to not be able to see the absolute adoration and attachment he always did whenever she looked at him. 

Moving over to the table silently, Asa didn’t stir at all, causing Dazai’s lips to curve down into a bothered frown. 

He wanted to help her, mostly for himself so that he could gain that familiar acknowledgment once more, but how? How could he snap her out of her Chuuya based depression?

Making someone feel better wasn’t really his specialty, after all. In fact, the demon only knew how to give the opposite effect so this was new territory. Sure, he knew how to manipulate someone to happiness but Asagao wasn’t one to fall for his usual tricks so that wasn’t going to work. It had to be genuine. 

Yet the more he stared at her, the more the sixteen year old kid felt at a loss. What did normal people say or do in this kind of circumstance? He didn’t know. The port mafia didn’t ever educate him on mushy things like this. 

Dazai then flipped through his memory, searching for something that could possibly help him. He may have not known how to go about this but perhaps there was someone else's experience that he could steal from. 

That’s when his eyes flashed towards the small liquor cabinet to his left in order for a sharp painful grief to course through him without permission. 

Ah, that’s right. That’s what Odasaku would’ve done. 

Asagao only groaned from under her arms though, the words of rejection pounding through her head over and over again. She made such an embarrassment of herself, and in front of Chuuya also. Now he’ll never want to be her friend. 

Honestly serves her right for thinking that in the first place. Asa didn’t have friends and she was foolish to think she could. Who would ever want to be close to a freak like her anyways? 

Damn it, she really hated herself right now. 

Yet that’s when she heard the small clink of glass together only for Asa to lift her head up in confusion to find Osamu holding two empty cups between his fingers, the objects outstretched out towards her with silent question. 

Staring at the clear colored glass, her eyes couldn’t help but soften. He knew she needed this, huh? Was it really that obvious? “Thanks Osamu..” 

She then grabbed the glass on the left before placing it on the table as Dazai quickly did the same with his in order to pull out a large bottle of whiskey from the cabinet behind him. “Pick your poison.” 

Asa only lifted her glass up in response though. “Just whatever you’re having is good.” 

Nodding once, Dazai then popped the top of the bottle before pouring the amber colored liquid into both of their glasses and sitting down beside her quietly as she swirled the alcohol around absentmindedly. 

Dazai was the one that spoke first, his voice slightly apprehensive for the personal subject. “Odasaku would always take me out for a drink wherever I had something I wanted to forget.” 

He was explaining his actions, it was obvious. Asa could tell, he wanted her to know why he had offered her the alcohol in the first place. This was probably the only method of coping he knew how to do, not that she minded though. The girl was no stranger to this toxic way of dealing with her problems either. 

Smiling sadly into the glass, Asa thought about the sentence. Her brother's methods were always so dismissive, weren’t they? He didn’t outwardly talk about his problems, just took himself to a place where he could disappear from it.

It wasn’t the best method out there but because it was Oda’s she couldn’t help but indulge in the same to feel close to him. “Well then, let’s not leave him hanging, right?” 

Lifting her glass up towards the liquor cabinet, Dazai’s eyes moved to the sight before his own expression softened with understanding. “Right.” 

Then the boy carefully picked out another glass before turning to the spot where his best friend used to occupy between the two kids. It was an unspoken rule that neither of them sat there, for good reason. They didn’t have the right to. 

Placing the object in the middle of the table, Dazai then carefully lifted the bottle of whiskey before pouring an equal amount of liquor with a quiet mutter. “Here you go, Odasaku.” 

And even though Oda would never occupy in that space again, the slightly full glass of whiskey made it feel like his presence hadn’t fully disappeared from the place. 

Dazai was thankful that she mentioned it, because now the air didn’t feel as foreign and empty as before. 

Nodding once at the gesture, Asa then took a long sip of her drink before sighting out heavily. “Hey Osamu, what do you think I did wrong back there?”

He knew what she was talking about immediately, their plan to fool Chuuya. “I didn’t see anything wrong, love. Chibi is just an idiot. Ignore him. That’s what I do.” 

That seemed easier said than done though, the girl quickly downing the rest of her drink before flopping onto the surface of her table with a loud groan. “Maybe I should’ve acted more normal. He might’ve liked me then.”

Dazai couldn’t help scoff at that though, the words bitter on his tongue. What the hell was she saying? What was the point if she just pretended to be any other bitch? 

Sure, maybe it would’ve made her easier for Chibi to digest but then she’d be striping the most enticing parts about herself. 

The boy didn’t keep her around all this time because she was normal. Yes, she was Odasaku’s sister and regardless of her personality he would have probably still had some kind of relationship with her but Dazai was absolutely positive that it wouldn’t have been as extensive as it was now if she was boring like all the rest.  

Her originality and unique mindset was what kept him entranced and taking that part away from her was like destroying the real Asagao. Who cares if Chuuya and everyone else preferred the water down version of her, that wasn’t real. 

Changing herself to be more easily received was the worst choice she could ever make. Then she’d be like everyone else, boring, predictable and easily disposable. 

Waving the idea away with disgust, Dazai frowned. “Don’t bend yourself over backwards for a stupid slug. Your non-normality is the best part about you, love.” 

And he hated how she couldn’t see it, that she couldn’t recognize the same things that Dazai did. It was obvious from the disconnected look in her face. “Well, I hate to break to you, Samu but I don’t know if you’re the best person to say that. You aren’t normal either.”

Gasping dramatically in response, Dazai then shoved a hand over his non-existent heart before leaning backwards like he had been shot with the worst kind of bullet imaginable. “Ah, my heart! I’m wounded. You’re so cruel, Asa-chan.” 

Asa was used to his antics though, the girl simply shaking her head with dismissal. “I’m just saying that most people don’t think like that. I just forgot how they usually react, I forgot that no one else is as understanding as you. Not even Chuuya..” 

It was a fact she had chosen to admit from her mind until now. Osamu was a wonder but he wasn’t like everyone else. Besides, his viewpoint and upbringing were just as fucked up as hers was so of course they related to each other.

 But everyone else wasn’t the same, and no matter how many times she realized that it still stung all the same. The truth was, she was unfinished project, never good enough to blend in and yet never evil enough to say fuck it and not care about the worlds opinion.

Either way she was an outlier. 

She then paused when Osamu spoke back to her, his uncovered eye trained to his drink before taking a causal sip. “You know what I think, love?” 

Glancing back to him in return, the boy then added plainly. “Anyone that only accepts the watered down version of you is pointless, because that’s not the real you anyways, and lying to yourself just to be something you aren’t isn’t going to make you happy, is it?” 

His words caused a heavy hole to rupture into her chest. He had a point, if she pretended to be someone else in order to get approval than what was the point? That’s not what she really wanted. 

Becoming someone fake was possible, sure, but also impossibly exhausting. Soon enough they’d figure out what a freak she was, just like Chuuya did.  “No, I guess not..” 

Then she watched Osamu simply shrug his shoulders before placing the glass back on the table with a wave of his hand. “Well then, screw them. If they can't see the beauty that I see then let them stay blind..” 

At that, Asagao felt her eyes widen as she almost choked on her drink.

Beauty? He saw beauty in her? No impossible, that’s the last thing she was. He was just flirting with her per usual. That had to be it. No one had ever called her remotely beautiful before. 

Still, if he was authentic it was a nice sentiment, and the way he proclaimed it didn’t feel like a lie. But if that was true then she still wouldn’t have known how to take it. Then again, this was Osamu she was talking about, the best womanizer in the universe. 

Ah, what was she doing? She needed to stop thinking about it so much. They weren’t even in a real relationship. He had no reason to mean that. It had to be just an offhanded compliment, something he said to hundreds of girls. 

Dazai then grumbled to himself before lifting his arms up dramatically in order to flare them around in explanation. “Especially Chuuya, screw Chuuya the most. Throw him off a building or something..” 

Giving her a small wink and an eyebrow wiggle, the boy then propped his head into his hands before giving her a sly flirtatious smile. “Either way, you have someone much better looking around anyways.”

And whether he had meant it as a joke or not, Asagao’s lips couldn’t help but curve into a smile as a light chuckle escaped her lips for his dramatic flare. He was so silly sometimes, she couldn’t get enough. 

Brightening up immediately, Dazai then leaned his entire body closer to her, his waist leaning against the table before pointing in her direction. “Ahh, I hear a laugh! There’s my girl..” 

Then all at once, Asagao’s face instantly turned red, her head sharply turning away from him before shaking it to hide the hue. 

There it was again, that phrase. That was the second time he called her his girl. 

He had to stop doing that, she didn’t know how to take it. 

Placing her hands over her entire face in order to calm herself, Dazai only frowned at the reaction, his body practically throwing itself over the table with an over the top gasp. “Wait, you’re not laughing cause you think I’m ugly, right? Cause I’m clearly not, I mean look at my face, how could you call me anything less than the handsomest man you’ve ever met? Way better than that slug, Chibi. Right, right? Come on, tell me that's not it. Asa-channnn…” 

He then pointed to his face in question, before watching the girl shake her head under her hands, his whine only making her laugh even more in order to feel the heat throughout her entire face. “No no, it's not. You’re right. I don’t know what I was so sad about. I clearly already found the best guy that understands me.”

Turning his head upside down, to try to decipher her expression, Dazai coaxed. “And the most handsomeee…?” 

Asagao then smiled through her laugh, her fingers threatening to slip from her face. “Yes Samu, and the most handsome.”

The boy wasn’t done though, blinking once before questioning again. “More handsome than Chuuya..?” 

Finally letting go of her face, Asa stared at the floor only for her eyes to soften. He was playing this off but he was really worried about it, wasn’t he? He wanted validation, reassurance of his place and she had no problem in giving it to him. 

So against her nerves, the girl then sighed to herself before turning back to the waiting boy, allowing him to see the flustered and reddened cheeks on her face in order to give him physical proof that he was the only one that could give such a response. 

Then she spoke, allowing her feelings of admiration to shine through. “No one could ever replace you in my eyes, Samu. Not even as the most handsome.” 

Watching his eyes practically sparkle with validation, Dazai then gasped once more before reeling back from the table, his hand reapplying to his heart, except this time instead of acting like he was shot, he acted like he had gotten hit by cupid himself. 

The boy then fell onto the floor unusually before rolling around like a wiggly worm, his voice fast and giddy. “Ah! You agreed, you called me handsome! See, I know you have to down bad for me, Asa-chan. So scandalous. You’re even blushing, Aww how cute! What an adorable little darling I have. I can’t take it!” 

His display couldn’t help but cause Asa to smile under her hand covering her lips leaning over the table to get a better look at the boy’s antics. “I think you have it backwards, Samu. Obviously the cute one right now is you.”

Rolling over to her side, the boy then placed his hands on the skirt of her bloodied dress, hosting his body upwards to balance on her folded legs in order to brush a single finger across the reddend spots on her cheeks. “How could that be possible when you’re the one blushing, love?” 

Asa’s eyes widened at his newfound touch, her gaze turning away with newfound embarrassment for her the heat in her cheeks. “A-Ah, sorry. It's just the alcohol..” 

Dazai only hummed though, tapping her skin playfully before putting his thumb and forefinger under his chin in a striking pose. “Sure sure, I don’t believe you though. It’s obvious, you can’t get enough of me.”

He was flirting again, joking surely. He was doing that alot tonight for some reason which wouldn’t have been strange but it seemed like Dazai’s personality had yet to switch from the fake lover they agreed upon in order to trick those traitors. 

No, he was still doting on her and Asagao didn’t know how to take it. Sure, he was suggestive sometimes but it was never like this. But there was no one around to perform for anymore so why was he still acting like this? 

And why was it harder to ignore and dismiss tonight? It had to be the alcohol, making her more aware of him in the most dangerous ways. Just like when he fake kissed her in that elevator back at the port mafia apartments, she was starstruck yet again. 

Feeling her anxiety suddenly spike, Asa then blinked back to reality in order to find Osamu’s fingers around the rim of her glasses. Wait, what was he doing? No, she didn’t want to see right now, not after Chuuya’s recent rejection.

The truth was, she was terrified, scared of the same thing repeating itself. And sure, Samu had seen her before but the furious look in the ginger’s eye still haunted her memory even now, enough for her to recoil back inside her traumatized shell. 

No, she wouldn't be able to bear it if Osu wore even a sliver of that kind of expression. It would break her in a way she knew couldn’t be repaired. He was her safe space and risking that especially now was something he dreaded more than anything. 

So much so, her hand robotically grasped onto his bandaged wrist before pleading pathetically under her breath. “N-No..I can’t right now..” 

Dazai felt the tremor under her skin immediately, his voice coaxing and smooth, just like it always was when he wanted something. “You don’t trust me?” 

Shaking her head, Asa gripped even tighter than before. “It’s not that..it's just..too fresh..words are one thing but seeing again so soon, it will hurt again, I just know it..”  

She was being irrational, she knew she was. Osamu wasn’t Chuuya, but even so she couldn’t help but hesitate. Just an hour ago she was thrown into a full on panic and Asa wasn’t completely sure that wasn’t going to happen again just yet. 

Feeling his fingertips bring her back to his gaze, Samu’s touch trailed away from the metal barriers before gently cupping her cheek with reassurance. “It won’t be the same, cause I’m not that slug.” 

And Dazai hated the retraction that his stupid partner had brought on. Chuuya was careless and cruel, making her apprehensive of her breathtaking eyes once again. He didn’t blame her for the reaction but now it seemed like that ginger had taken away Dazai's privileges as well. 

By rejecting her, Chuuya had always caused Asagao to associate everyone with that same horrible reaction, to put them all in the same inevitable box, even Dazai. 

No, he couldn’t have that, he refused to be grouped in with every other insignificant idiot that called her a monster. He wasn’t that simple minded, and though it was trauma that was clouding her real judgment, he still refused even to let that thought ruminate even for a second more. 

The words had helped but they weren’t enough, he could tell. She still hadn’t returned to him, she was still drifting to a place that he couldn’t reach fast enough. “But..” 

Watching her gaze travel away from him again, the boy felt uneasy. Her center was still wavering, flickering in and out of his perception and he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to be associated with everyone else, he needed to be special. 

He needed to be her entire world again. 

Dazai was desperate, willing to do anything to stand out from the crowds that Asa had unknowingly pushed him into. No, words weren’t enough, she needed to see firsthand that he was worlds better than Chuuya could ever be. 

Sucking in a heavy breath of anxiety, Dazai then slipped his fingers from her cheek to her chin, pulling her focus back on him before running his thumb over her bottom lip as tenderly as he was able to. “Come on, pretty. Let me prove it to you.” 

And that seemed to spark something within her, the boy’s feeling her lips tense under his touch before finally letting go on his wrist so that he could slip the large glasses from her face without another word. 

Almost instantly, she flinched out of his grip in order to close her eyes and sharply barrel them to the floor instead, metaphorically hiding away from herself  before she inevitably got hurt again.

The response only made Dazai’s frown deepen though, feeling the rejection through every single one of his veins. No, this wasn’t enough. He needed to do something that would make her focus back on him, and he needed to do it quickly before the gnawing insecurity dragged him to insanity. 

But what could he do to prove his distinction? What could he offer to her that would be enough to have his full and undivided attention again? Sure, he could force her to look at him but that wouldn’t do any good. Like he said before, his actions had to be genuine to shake her. 

Tightening the glasses around his anxious fingers, the boy then closed his eyes. She needed to see him, just like she had seen Chuuya. She needed to look at Dazai in the same light, only then would her mind truly distinguish the two. 

It was easier said than done though, knowing that the one thing Asa needed was also the one thing that Dazai had been hiding from his entire life. But if it got her to turn back to him, if it made her shift back to making him her everything then it was worth it. 

Yes, he was terrified of being perceived, but he was even more terrified of losing her completely, and that was enough for him to make a final decision. 

Then before he could change his mind and snap back to common sense, the boy reached down, latching on her wrist once before lifting it upwards to the destination unknown to even Asagao herself. 

Vaguely feeling her hand move against her own violation, Asagao squeezed her eyes, willing the pounding headache away as past images of Chuuya’s rejection flooded her senses, suffocating her all over again. 

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t here anymore, she could still feel it, that skin crawling horror and recoil through every single one of her muscles in a shaky stutter. Chuuya’s hatred, his disgust, his deplorable loathing, it was everywhere, hurting her with invisible claws and sharp horrible talons. 

Why did she agree to do this? She wasn’t ready, she couldn’t breathe, she wanted to disappear forever. She wanted to claw out her own eyes with her shaking fingertips and never have to experience such awful images ever again. 

Yet that’s when she felt her hijacked hand touch something familiar, the skin brushing against the unseen notion of gauze before she physically gasped and her own eyes snapped open without a second thought. 

No, it couldn’t be. 

Skin, she was touching skin. And not just that, the top of her nails had seemingly been enveloped by gauze, laying like a blanket over the surface only for the pads of her fingertips to brush against the outline of an eye. 

The feeling was dumbfounding, causing Asagao’s head to physically break out of her own prison before locking her analytical eyes to the sight before her. 

Her hand was underneath the bandages on Osamu’s face, he had put it there on purpose. But why? He had never allowed anyone to do that before, especially her.

Growing lightheaded, she then felt Samu’s hand fall from her wrist, leaving her stagnant and giving her complete control of the situation as his shoulders tensed underneath her. 

Could it be? Was he giving her permission to remove his safety net, to slip the gauze from his eye and gaze at the one thing he had never allowed up until this point? 

No, impossible. Dazai never had that kind of trust, he always made her wear the blindfold before touching him.

Taking a shaky breath, Asa whispered. “S-Samu? Are you sure?” 

And from the clearly apprehensive quiver of his lips, he wasn’t. This was probably the scariest thing in the world for him to do and yet he was pushing himself for her. But why? Why would he ever go this far? 

She got her answer a second later, his voice just barely audible, like an unsure child pleading for something regardless. “I want you to look at me again.” 

And how could she possibly say no to that kind of face? She couldn’t, not when her eyes made it impossible to miss every single drop of desperation and disheartened anguish that laid there. 

So much so, Asagao forced her shaky fingers to move, sliding the white colored bandages easily aside since they were already fairly loose from his fiddling in order for the boy to tense up even more as the breeze hit his clammy skin. 

The ribboned gauze fell away a second later, causing Asa’s fingers to brush away the falling brown strands in order for her mouth to fall open and the words to dissipate from her lips. 

There he was, fully right in front of her, both of his eyes on display for the first time in his life.

And they were beautiful, a picturesque hazel that swarmed with so many secrets and feelings that it caused Asa to physically gasp. 

So much so, the girl couldn’t help herself, immediately latching both of her hands on either side of his face before pulling him closer to her and deciphering each section like a drug. 

The layers of himself that he kept hidden, the parts that he buried under a chamaeleon of various fake actions and words, they all mixed around in his iris’, threatening to be revealed. 

There was a darkness there, floating around the circular edges. Of course there was. That was always the first thing her cursed gaze ever saw, the bad. But this version was almost more sorrowful than scary, making her want to cry rather than run away. 

She saw the little boy trapped inside, hiding behind a facade bigger than himself but it was still there. Desperate to be understood and yet terrified of the very notion. A child that only looked towards death in every single circumstance. 

There was also fear, apprehension and alarm for what she was doing, for what she was uncovering. But even though his shoulders continued to tense and his jaw shuttered with vulnerability, he didn’t avert his gaze, probably already knowing that it would shatter her with that same rejection if he did so. 

And though this was the easiest part of him to reveal to her, that still didn’t make it easy. Sure, his eyes didn’t hold any scarred or unpleasant memories but it was still a part that he kept hidden from the world, a function that he did without in order to preserve the ugly parts of him. 

Asagao understood that as well, brushing her thumb on his cheeks in tiny reassuring circles as his eyes shifted into something different, a new layer uncovering from the ether of his many faces. 

The fear, the darkness was still there but now there was something else, something that resembled grief, mixed together with a new emotion, flecked in tiny spots but still extremely noticeable for someone like Asa. 

He was looking at her with so much admiration, appreciation, wonder, and fixated entrancement. There was no disgust, no rejection or ugly feelings that she had expected. In fact, his face displayed something more on the lines of worship than anything else. 

But who could he be worshiping, surely not her, right? It was probably because she wore the face of his best friend and that was who he was admiring. Such strong emotions and feelings couldn't be suited to her in that kind of way. 

Yet regardless of the intent, it was nothing like the hot licks of anger that Chuuya had given her. No, Osamu’s eyes held a more solemn air, a desperate and yet calculating aura that contradicted themselves, just like all the parts he forced himself to play. 

And whether he had meant it or not, she quickly found herself consumed entirely, unable to think about anything else except the boy in front of her. Any semblance of Chuuya and those horrible feelings was completely gone, replaced by the thousands of stories behind his forlorn hazel expression.  

Her head began to spin once again, overloaded by the onslaught of information but not pulling away like before. It was almost like she couldn’t, like she wanted to disappear inside the enigma that was threatening to swallow her whole. It should've hurt, but it didn’t. 

For the first time, she didn’t want to look away, she didn’t want the release of her blind barriers in order to decipher every single spec about the withdrawn child that he could allow her to have. She wanted to know everything, to see everything, even the bad. 

He had trusted her with such an integral part of himself, allowed her to look into a section of his own insecurities just to make her see that he wasn’t going to reject her like Chuuya had. 

It was overwhelming, causing tears to prick the corners of her eyes before finally tearing herself away from the sight in order to bury her head into his shoulder with a shaking breath. 

He gave her so much, and she would be forever thankful for it. “T-Thank you.” 

Osamu didn’t say anything, his hand simply reaching forward in order to cradle the back of her head silently. But even still, Asa knew what he meant. He was saying your welcome. 

Grasping her shaky hands onto his bloodied jacket, Asa then gave a pathetic little sniffle before muttering into the fabric. “Are you staying tonight?” 

She then felt his touch disappear from her head in order to pick up the discarded bandages and wrap them back around his eye. “I wish, but Mori will get suspicious if I don’t go back. He’s gonna want a report about tonight.” 

Asa could understand that. He had been spending the night more frequently over the last couple months, which meant that eventually the boss would be looking for him, and that was something neither of them wanted. 

So she didn’t push it, the girl feeling the sticky blood on her fingers from the fabric of his jacket with a hum. “Okay, but at least let me wash your jacket before you go. Since I know you won’t do it later.” 

Sucking in a breath between his teeth, Dazai replied playfully, knowing that she was indeed right. He had a habit of disregarding himself more often than not. “Ouch, Asa-chan. You really got me with that one.” 

His body shifted then, allowing Asagao to pull back from the jacket in order place the glasses beside her back onto her face in order to pause at her own appearance. 

Ah crap, looks like it wasn’t just Osamu that got messy. Her new dress was also caked with dried blood and dirt from their previous fight. How awful of her to be so careless, especially when Samu had given such a precious gift to her. What kind of fake girlfriend was she? 

Forcing herself to stand, Asa frowned at the crimson mess, holding the ends of her skirt in order to try and find each stain and imperfection. “Guess I should probably change also. I’m sorry Samu, you went through all the trouble to get me this beautiful dress and I ruined it. Maybe I could still get some of the stains out though. Let me try...”  

Yet that’s when she felt Dazai’s hand grasp her wrist, his voice firm. “Don’t..” 

Don’t? Don’t what? What could he possibly mean? What was he trying to stop her from doing? She only wanted to salvage what she could of the dress. 

Asa then gasped out a reply, unable to question his strange command as she felt his hand slip to her lower back, pulling her body forward as his un bandaged eye turned towards the tainted teal dress with finality. 

And when he spoke, it was deeper, laced in desire. “I like it better like this.” 

His tone caught her off guard, suddenly feeling rather self conscious for the way he was looking at her. How could this possibly be better? She probably looked like a disaster right now. Even her hair was all messed up. “A-Are you sure? But it’s not how it’s supposed to look..” 

Asa recalled the perfectly placed dress inside of the pink box when she received it. Not a crease was out of place or a wrinkle to be seen. Yet now it was nothing of the sort. 

The moment she put on the fabric it seemed to morph into that same messy and imperfect disappointment she had always described herself to be. That by placing the dress on her body, she had unknowingly tainted the normality with it. 

Suddenly, all the self doubt seemed to dissipate as Osamu’s hand reached forward, gathering around a wild messy strand of hair before twisting it around in fingers. 

Then he lifted the piece to his lips before kissing it softly before speaking with so much honesty that it caused the girl’s heart to tumble with shock. “And that’s what makes it beautiful.”

Feeling her face flush again, Asagao blinked in disbelief. What? What did he just say? He thought this was beautiful, that the imperfect unordinary mess she created was beautiful? No, it couldn’t be. She had ruined it the second it graced her skin, just like she had ruined herself as a child. 

And it wasn’t just that, the way he touched her hair and kissed it so gently, it implied that he wasn’t just talking about the dress. But how could that be? Had she really correlated the two things together like she had so easily? Did he see the similarities between her and this dress? 

He had to, that’s why he was looking at her so clearly. The bloody dress, the abnormality of her very being, both were the furthest thing from the cookie cutter way that they were supposed to be. 

Yet regardless of the expectations, Osamu had just called them both beautiful.  

And in a way, it was almost like he was calling her beautiful as well.  Just like before, expect this time it was harder to deny the meaning of the phrase. 

So much so, Asagao felt her heart pound inside her ears, the heat in her cheeks undeniable as she forced herself to mutter a response. “O-Oh, okay..” 

And when he finally let her breathe, Asa’s eyes immediately turned back to the empty liquor glass on the table before internally cursing for the dangerous feelings it had given her. 

All of this, the way she was feeling, it was because of the alcohol, right? 

It had to be. 

Chapter 20:

"Let's Kiss And Find Out"

The plan was only for Dazai to stay until his jacket was dry, yet somehow while in the process of that simple idea the two kids had emptied a full bottle of whiskey and were now giggling like loons on the floor, fully gone from any semblance of sobriety. 

They didn’t seem to have a problem with it though, Dazai tossing the empty glass bottle behind him with a drunken hum of dissatisfaction, clearly wanting more. I mean, what else were they supposed to do while they waited? It wasn’t like they could let Odasaku’s good booze go to waste, right? 

This wasn’t an unusual occurrence either, the two having indulged in this kind of night many times before. In fact, in the last three or fourth months both Asa and Dazai were no strangers to a drink or two. 

Yes, sometimes the location was different, the kids finding themselves on the familiar barstools of Lupin instead of Oda’s apartment but the result was still the same. Yet, this was the first time the teenagers had finished an entire bottle, and the effects were glaringly obvious. 

They were usually better about this after all. Careful not to overindulge for fear of what it might bring. But between Asagao’s unpleasant meeting with Chuuya and Dazai’s misjudgement in the plan to bring those traitors down, it seemed both of them had things they wanted to drown out tonight. 

Hence, the drunken state they were both in. 

One overindulgence, couldn’t hurt right? What was the harm in that? 

Righting herself upwards, Asa then flopping the hand of cards in between her fingers on the table before a victorious intoxicated grin slipped onto her lips. “Ha! Got you again! Not so tough now are you, Mr. Super Smart Mafia Man! You’re not as cool as you think you are, huhhh?”

She elongated the last part of her sentence, causing Dazai’s voice to sound in a resonating whine of protest. “Whaa?! No fair, Asa-channnn. I definitely won that one! How did you do that?”

The game was poker, something that the kids played regularly. Dazai had shown her how to play a couple months back during one of their nightly trips to Bar Lupin. It was a game that Odasaku enjoyed, and because of that it was something they picked almost all the time.   

Just so they could both feel closer to him. 

Asa only hummed though, pushing her hands through her hair in an attempt to look cool.“A winner never reveals their secrets, love. I’m just too good. 

Sadly though, the move did anything but that, her fingers immediately getting caught in the wild and messy strands before wiggling them out in an uncoordinated tug and a hiss.  

Dazai didn’t seem to care about that though, his eyes narrowing in order to lean closer over the table with an accusatory point of his finger. “Nuh uh. I know what you’re doing. It’s written all over that pretty face of yours.”

Scrambling on his hands and knees in order to crawl over to her, the brown haired dazed boy then sloppy threw his pointer finger straight into the middle of her forehead, his cheeks rosy and flushed. “Righttt there, I can see it. You can’t fool me…even if I keep getting distracted by your stunningly perfect little eyes..it’s still there..” 

Yet as soon as he touched her skin, Asa immediately pulled away, leaning back on her folded legs with a pout. “Nooo you dont. You don’t see nothing, Samu.” 

Her grammar was completely off but both kids hardly focused on it. It’s not like they could anyways considering they were both unable to recognize the slurs in their speech. Neither one could call the other out to correct it. 

And to be honest, Asa was thankful that was the case because it seemed like her mind was far from the malfunction that Osamu had given her while she was tipsy. The self awareness of his flirting didn’t affect her as much now, simply because she couldn’t process more than one thing at a time. 

Thank god for that. It made everything so much easier. So much so, drunk Asa tried to make a mental list inside her head before the thought blew away for another. Sober Asagao and Drunk Asagao were fine, but tipsy Asagao, now that was something she needed to look out for. 

Because when she was tipsy, she walked the line between reality and fantasy, she was still able to perceive Osamu’s flirty attitude but the loss of sobriety caused her to linger into dangerous ideas, ideas that she knew Samu wasn’t mutual on. 

That should’ve grounded her but as soon as the alcohol infused in her system, it fed into delusion, and that was something that she simply couldn’t have. The two were just using each other after all, Osamu’s comments were shallow, she had to remember that. 

And although he was still flirting even now, the ratio of whiskey in her system heavily outweighed the ratio of everything else, leaving her in a state of bliss, brushing his sweet nothings off like fluffy clouds of pleasant emotion. 

They didn’t process, they didn’t register as much as before, and she was thankful for it all the same. 

Wiggling the finger in her face, Dazai waved his bandaged arms in explanation. “Yes I do. I see it. You’re a cheater..a big fat pumpkin eater cheater! Just like Odasaku. You’re swindlin me..” 

Asagao gasped immediately, her hands fumbling to her chest before crossing them in fake hurt to what he was implying. “Whaat?! So mean, Samuuu. I would never. I’m playin fair and square. You just suck.” 

Sticking her tongue out child-ishly for effect, Dazai’s lips opened with disbelief. “Hey, I don’t suck! I used to beat Odasaku lots of times! Here, I’ll prove it. Deal me another round. I’ll show you this time.” 

The grumpy boy then took the cards from her hands before sloppily shuffling them around in order to shove the rectangular deck onto the table next to her with a huff. 

He didn’t suck, he’d show her how smart he was, even while being distracted by her pretty face, which was extremely distracting by the way. 

Complying immediately, Asa reached for the deck, giving the cards a couple more turns before setting up the game with a drunken hum of a challenge, her tone rather sing song in design. “Aww, looks like Mr. Mafia Man is also a sore loserrr.” 

She then slid the two hidden cards over to him before lifting up her own with vague disinterest, more focused on the way Samu’s fingers hovered over the corners in order to turn them towards him. 

Asagao then smiled under her breath before wordlessly activating her ability just as the cards lifted up, the girl crawling over and behind the frozen Dazai, trapped in suspended time in order to peer over his shoulder to see his round of cards. 

Hey listen, she didn’t say she was honest, okay? 

Dazai may have correctly called her a cheater but what he didn’t know didn’t kill him. She was just using what she had to get ahead, just like she always did in life. 

Yet it seemed she grossly miscalculated her steps, the auburn haired girl far too focused on his cards in order to completely miss the empty glass whiskey bottle that Dazai had thrown behind him. 

Scooting closer to read the suit and color with her blurry lenses, Asagao then fully slammed her knee on the bottle, causing her balance to waver before she stumbled back with a surprised squeak of fear in order to reach her hands out to ground herself. 

She then fumbled to the nearest solid object she could find, latching onto the familiar feelings of cotton to regain her footing. 

Yet in doing so, it seemed she had regrettably grabbed onto Osamu’s shoulders, causing his ability to deactivate her own as the world spun back to life.

Oh shit, that wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Feeling the ominous presence and the feeling on his shoulders immediately, Dazai then sharply turned around on instinct in order to find her red handed in the act. 

 Well, she was screwed. So much so being clever.

Yet as much as she was in trouble, Dazai’s tense muscles were the one thing she could focus on. It was clear that she had frightened him with the touch, like a flight or fight response and she wanted to apologize for it. “Opps hehe. Didn’t mean to touch you like that. Sorry.” 

Quickly taking her hands off his shoulders, Dazai then watched her wordlessly, his eyes scanning from the cards in his hand back to her before she laughed nervously. “Uhhh..it’s not what it looks like?”

It was like the worst excuse in the book but it was the only one that came to mind, the words causing the executive to chuckle under his breath in a dark manner. “Asa-chan. Do you know what you just did?” 

He said her name like a threat, like a lethal warning for the dishonest lie that she had blatantly told him. And to most, the shift would’ve been frightening. Not to Asa though. 

In fact, she chose to ignore it. “You have no proof and I’ll never admit to anything.” 

Going to cross her arms in a huff, Asa then paused as Dazai’s hand latched around her wrist, pulling her closer in order for his un bandaged eye to focus in on her like some kind of prey. “Careful, love. You’re talking to the number one torturer in the mafia. Trust me, I can make anyone talk, especially you.” 

She should’ve backed away then, admitted defeat. But unfortunately, drunk Asagao was far more bold, tempting the devil without a care in the world. “Oh yeah? Well then, let’s see it, Mr. Scary Executive.” 

And from the slight gleam in his eye, it was obvious that he hoped for that answer, Dazai’s lips curving upwards in a dark and twisted manner before sealing her fate. “Alright, you asked for it.” 

Pulling her hand forward in an instant, Asagao’s eyes then widened at her uneven balance before Samu shifted his body away in order for her to fall onto the tatami mats beneath them with a groan. 

Then before she could process it, her body was flipped, back smacking against the floor in order for Osamu to appear above her, his fingers moving down to..

Wait. 

All at once, Asagao’s eyes widened in response as she felt Samu’s hands lightly brush against her sides, tickling the poor girl as her lips cried open with a sharp laugh of surprise. “A-Ah, wait Samu..hold on..ha ha ha…wait a second..!” 

Dazai did not wait though, confined to his torture as he watched the girl wiggle around like a worm beneath him, a sadistic smile plastered on his face. “Ah ah ah, love. First you gotta admit that you cheated. Say it and I’ll stop.” 

Doing her best to push her lips together to stop her squeaks of giggles, Asagao lifted her hands up his order to try to unlatch them from her side. 

She couldn’t breathe she was laughing so hard, this truly was torture. “N-Never! You can’t...make me..!!” 

Turning his head in a vicious challenge, the executive gleamed, his hands traveling upwards with his words. “Now don’t say that, Asa-chan. That brings out a bad part of me, makes me wanna do just that.” 

Asa’s body then suddenly constricted against itself as she felt his long slender fingers stop at her armpits, her hands racing to the stop him before Dazai’s free arm caged her down so that she couldn’t reach.

Suddenly, this new spot was worse than before, the air in her lungs unable to function through her high pitched howls of painful joy. “No..not there…I can’t breathe…please..!” 

Dazai hummed in response, loving the pretty little tears that pricked by her eyes. “As much as I love to hear you beg, that’s not what I’m looking for, love. Come on, you can say it. Tell me you cheated.” 

As if to seal the deal, the boy's hand then traveled down again, shifting from her sides to her ribcage in order for her to wiggle and whine even more in his hold. 

And he knew, he knew this was going to be game over. 

Feeling black spots seep into the corner of her vision from the lack of oxygen to her lungs, Asa’s loud giggles tore through her own words, knowing that she’d die by laughter at his rate. “O-Okay okay okay..I admit it….I cheated..I cheated to win…I’m a cheater cheater pumpkin eater cheater..!” 

Almost instantly, the hands disappeared, leaving her gasping for air as Dazai leaned back, a shit eating grin clear across her lips. “Now, that wasn't so hard, was it? Told you I'd make you talk.” 

Blinking away the tears in her eyes, Asa pushed a hand to her chest before falling back onto the ground with absolute exhaustion. When he said he was the best torturer in the mafia he really wasn’t kidding. That was brutal. 

She then pouted her lips before whining back. “You’re evil, Samu.” 

Her insult had little meaning behind it, causing Dazai’s eyes to soften in order to carefully catch a falling tear from her eye. “Always have been, love. Thought you would’ve realized that by now, considering we’ve been together for over a year.” 

The words hung in the air unspoken, and even in his drunken state, Dazai still couldn't understand why someone as good as her had chosen to hang around him so often. Yes, he was the last piece of her brother that she had, but Dazai thought for sure that Asa would’ve run away by now. 

That’s what everyone else did after all, they ran away when they got a glimpse of his fucked up soul. His suicidal dreams, his port mafia instincts they were hard for anyone to swallow and he always thought that even a fragile promise like theirs was subject to change. 

But it hadn’t. In fact, their agreement had only grown stronger and it seemed like Asagao had stepped forward rather than back. Even now with pretty tears in her eyes, the girl wasn’t shaken by his method of torment. 

It was overwhelming and still impossibly hard to believe in every perceivable way. 

Flushing in embarrassment for her tears, Asa hummed. “I have, I just don’t mind.” 

At that, Dazai closed his eyes with a sigh. Of course she would say that. That was such an Asagao thing to reply with. He should’ve guessed that she had already figured out his monstrous traits in order to bluntly ignore them. 

It was her entire ideology after all, to look past the bad in order to search for the good. To acknowledge but never linger on the evil in order to believe in the hopeless delusion of something better, something pure. 

Idiot, she was just as stupid as she was a year ago. Nothing had changed from when she had called him a good man. And though he knew her mindset wasn’t true, it still brought a wave of vulnerability to his stomach whenever he thought about it. 

No one else but her could think of such a crazy thing after all. No one else would give him a chance like she did, like she continued to do. Because of that, even Dazai wanted to believe her foolish delusions for truth. 

Someone had to balance his negative view, and he was glad it was her. 

Snapping out of his liquor-filled thoughts, Dazai then watched Asa’s lips open with a loud yawn, her eyes fluttering closed as he teased softly in her direction. “Aww, is my princess getting sleepy? Did I tire her out just now?” 

And to be honest, yeah he had. In fact, Asagao’s muscles felt like lead after his tickle torture, like all the energy had been sucked out of her at once. “Mmm a little. I’ll just sleep here.” 

Curving into herself like a cat, Dazai then shook his head in disapproval. “That’s no good, Asa-chan, You know princesses shouldn't sleep on the floor like that.”

Asa only groaned though, curling further into a ball before sleepily answering back with a mumble of child-ish protest. “Don't’ wanna...too far...legs are jelly..” 

The way she spoke sounded like a bratty little toddler, the sound causing Dazai’s head to turn with amusement before leaning down towards her in question. “You want me to roll you over there, then? Or drag you by your ankles?” 

He meant it as a joke. Well, half of a joke, really, the boy expecting her to swat his hand away to grumble something else adorable under her breath. 

So he was certainly surprised when she shifted her head to meet him, her hand waving back and forth with a groggy response. “That’s fine..I trust you..” 

Trust? She had to be kidding. No one had ever trusted him before, and for good reason. He was probably the least trustworthy kid on the planet, only giving out fragile promises and bold faced lies most of the time. 

She should’ve known better than giving out her trust to a demon like that, and in his drunken state Dazai wanted her to know that. He wanted her to take it back before he either knowingly or unknowingly took advantage of her. 

So much so, the boy then hummed to himself before standing up completely, reaching down in order to do exactly as he said, grabbing her ankles in order to hoist her lower body upwards like some kind of makeshift human wheelbarrow. “Okayyyy, if you say so! Let’s go, Asa-chan!” 

Then Dazai began to drag the poor girl across the tatami mats, the shorts underneath her skirt lifting up just slightly from the angle he was at. Dazai didn’t pay any mind though, too lost in giving her his own type of punishment for her stupid words of faith. 

Laughing to himself, he then lugged the seemingly dead body around the apartment, purposely taking the longest route possible as Asa had no choice but to be manhandled along with him. 

Now that he thought about it, Dazai had done something similar before to Chuuya as well when he had passed out after a mission. Oh, how his face was so red and entertaining the moment he found out about his unconscious journey that he had taken back to the port mafia. 

And that’s what he wanted from her as well. He wanted her to get angry, to shake him off, to take back her foolish moment of trust. He wanted to show her firsthand the kind of messed up and cruel things he was capable of so that she would never utter that dangerous word to him ever again. 

Finally reaching Odasaku’s bedroom, Dazai then kicked open the door with his foot before finally dropping Asa’s body onto the floor by the foot of the bed. That should do it. “Anddd we’ve arrived at our destination!” 

Turning back to face her, the boy then paused as he watched as her eyes were closed, almost like she had been lulled to sleep by being a human mop. Huh, he thought she’d at least grumble a bit for his decision. “Love?” 

Asa only hummed though, her eyes fluttering open just barely before her body curved back into itself with a mutter. “Mmm thanks..just leave me here..it’s close enough..I’ve slept here before so I’m used to it..” 

At that, Dazai’s brow turned down in confusion. He recalled her also sleeping on the floor in his apartment almost a year ago when she was drunk just like this, but he didn’t know it had become a habit. “Why?” 

Asagao was silent for a moment, almost like she was debating the words to say out loud before her gaze traveled to the empty mattress above her. “Feels like I don’t deserve it sometimes. Like I don’t have the right to sleep where he was..like I’m intruding..ya know?”

In her drunken haze, Asa then sighed, forcing a heavy pit down into her stomach in order not to think about it. Her brother had slept in between those sheets so many times that when she laid them across herself they felt wrong and out of place. 

Someday’s were better than others though. Sometimes she could brush away the feeling, shove it down and pretend it was just like any other bed but sometimes she found it impossible to ignore. Mostly when she had alcohol it seemed to resurface, that uncomfortable sensation of forcing herself into a place where she didn’t deserve to occupy.

She never even got the chance to ask him if living in his place was okay, if sleeping in his bed didn’t bother him. And because of that, in a way, Asa felt like a criminal, stealing something she didn’t even know she was supposed to have or not. 

She’d never be able to ask him about it either, leaving her in a limbo of uncertainty forever.

That’s why on some nights, sleeping on the cold hard floor was better. It grounded her, made her remember her place in all of this. She needed to be humbled, to remember that Oda’s things were not her own, and they would never be. 

Realizing she was getting stuck in her own mind, Asagao then forced herself back before a tight lipped smile worked its way onto her lips. “S’okay Samu..I’m used to it…when I was a kid I’d sleep like this too…didn’t even know what a bed was…” 

In fact, the day she woke up at the hospital after her brother rescued her was the first time she had been given such a luxury. That was another reason she favored the floor also though, it reminded her of a simpler time, of a time when her brother was still next to her and not out of reach. 

Dazai only stood there silent though, his mind running a million miles per minute to work against the alcohol in his system. He knew that Asagao didn’t feel worthy enough to call her own brother by his first name but this went far beyond what he had perceived before. 

Because it wasn’t just about a last name, it was everything to do with him. This house, this bed, she felt like she didn’t deserve any of it. She was punishing herself, harming herself by taking things away, giving herself lessons, just to make sure she didn’t get too comfortable in her brother's old life. 

It was really sad to think about, how she came back to this place everyday feeling inferior, like she was breaking and entering even though she had the key. 

And Dazai could relate to that as well, knowing that every time he stepped into his apartment it felt wrong, like something was missing, like he shouldn’t be there without Odasaku’s permission.

He couldn’t even imagine how she felt, to be trapped in these walls with no sliver of the man that once occupied it. How awful it must have felt, to sleep in a stranger's bed every single night, so impossibly close and yet so far from where Oda used to be. 

Pushing his hands together into a fist, Dazai’s throat felt funny, like he had just gone weeks without water. Because although he could understand where she was coming from by rejecting the bed, he also hated it more than anything. 

Not for himself, but for Odasaku. 

How worried and guilty would he have felt to know such a thing? To see his precious little sister chose the floor rather than a comfortable night's sleep simply because she felt as if she didn’t deserve it. 

That man definitely loved her more than anything, and he would’ve been so heartbroken to realize what he had unknowingly caused. His friend just wanted to save her and yet in doing so he had broken her in a way that could no longer be mended. 

After all, no one but Oda could make her feel better, no one but him could tell her that living in his house and sleeping in his bed was okay. She would never believe it unless it came from him, the poison couldn't be cleared without his voice and now he was dead, taking that antidote with him forever. 

The only thing she had left was a sad suicidal boy like Dazai to pick up the pieces, and that was something the boy knew he was absolutely terrible with. He wasn’t Odasaku, he couldn’t be as kind or understanding. 

He debated leaving her there, giving up completely as her eyes fluttered back closed. What could he possibly do, after all? He was just a kid, a stupid, fucked up kid. He didn’t know how to ease her pain. Hell, he didn’t know how to ease his own pain. 

But something about her figure below him made him pause, his gaze softening as she curved her knees to her chest in a pathetic position by the foot of Oda’s bed. She didn’t seem bothered by her choice but Dazai was. 

Odasaku’s hands couldn’t reach her now, the only ones that could were Dazai’s scarred, imperfect and bandaged ones. But even so, he reached them forwards regardless. 

Leaning down to meet her, Samu’s fingers then brushed a strand of messy hair from her eyes before sucking in a strained breath. He needed to make Odasaku proud, he needed to try, even if it ended in failure. 

Then with shaky uncertain hands, the boy carefully gathered up Asa in his arms, her body turning to lean into his chest as Samu’s shoulder’s immediately tensed from the close contact. 

He couldn’t even hold her hand for fear of intimacy, so this was way out of his comfort zone. Asa seemed to realize it as well, her eyes flopping open with confusion. “Samu..you don’t have to..” 

Dazai could hardly hear her though, his ears ringing through his entire body far too loud as he carefully cradled her closer, praying that she couldn’t hear his pounding heart. “Like I said before, princesses don’t sleep on the floor.” 

This was completely different from the way he had handled her before. When he grabbed her ankles and dragged her around the house, when he slung her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes last year in his apartment, this was far scarier than any of that put together. 

Because right now, he had never held someone or something so light before, so gentle and apprehensively. Like it was the most precious thing in the world, like it was the rarest treasure of all. No, Osamu was terrified to put any more pressure than this, scared of breaking her completely with his poisonous veins. 

Lifting back up to his feet, Dazai then shifted his body over to the bed before throwing open the top blanket in order to carefully place Asagao onto the mattress, her body practically melting into the surface like a warm hug. 

The boy then reached for the black colored sheet before pulling it over her bloodied dress and quickly turning around in order for his entire body to heat up with clear anxiety. 

He couldn’t handle much more of this, he needed to leave before she realized just how frazzled he really was. 

Yet as soon as he stepped away, Samu felt a hand latch onto his wrist, her voice pleading and soft. “Samu..wait..stay with me..at least until I fall asleep..maybe it won’t feel as weird if you’re here..” 

It still sounded like she was half asleep, the slur of her speech evident through the pauses in her sentence. But the only thing he could focus on was the meaning. 

He had never stayed in the same bed as her before. Yes, he slept over more often than not but Dazai would always take a sofa and sometimes the floor if he was too lazy for the former. 

It didn’t feel right, so instead, the boy teased her about it, his flushed intoxicated rosy cheeks leaning forward with a hum. “Asa-chan’s so clingy tonight. Told you that you couldn’t get enough of me, hmm?” 

Going to pull back once more, Dazai then tried to right himself only for Asagao’s fingers to shift from his bandaged wrist to the white cuff of his long sleeve shirt, pulling on the end with a whisper. “Please.” 

And try as he may, drunk Dazai’s resolve was not as strong as sober Dazai’s, the boy freezing with disbelief as her long fluffy eyelashes battered towards him in pure desperation for his presence. 

That look, it was so dangerous, it was everything he had ever wanted from her. She needed him, desired him next to her like it was the only thing that mattered to her. She was dependent, viewing him like he was the entire universe, like she’d crumble without him. 

How could he possibly resist such a look? How could he walk away from the utter plead in her voice? He couldn’t. He was far too selfish to ever walk away from something so tempting. 

It was wrong, it was so very wrong to feed into it and yet Osamu couldn’t help himself, his body instinctively moving to the empty spot on the end before robotically sliding next to her, his head resting on the wall behind him. 

His body was stiff, reminding him that the choice he had made was the wrong one and yet his muscles refused to move even so. Why anyone would want to fall asleep with a demon next to them was beyond him, but this was Asagao he was talking about. 

This was such new territory for him also, lying next to someone, in their bed. Usually once Dazai got finished with a woman he just left. There was no aftercare or cuddling, or close contact. He never lingered, and he certainly never relaxed. 

That would’ve been foolish to do anyways, trusting a total stranger so easily. No, they were probably all just waiting to backstab and kill him the minute he closed his eyes. That’s what the mafioso would’ve done to everyone else after all. It was only natural they would think the same.

So instinctually, he couldn’t relax, the boy’s muscles locked and on edge more so than ever. It’s what he had been trained to do, what had been conditioned into his mind. 

Yet that’s when he felt Asagao’s grip on his sleeve loosen, the tips of her fingers traveling back to his wrist silently as he watched with anxious breath. 

Careful not to touch the skin, the girl then turned the gauze around so that his wrist was facing upwards in order to trace a line down the middle with her pointer finger as Dazai watched the line.

She did that before at the cafe also, he always wondered what it meant. So this time, he asked her. “What are you doing?” 

Humming in response, Asa spoke carefully, her eyes still trained to the moments of her finger. “Tracing the veins, finding the life in them....”

Dazai couldn’t help but pause at that. “Why?” 

It seemed like a foolish thing to do. What was so good about life, especially his life to want to catalog the blood in his veins? Surely nothing.

Yet Asa only smiled, the feathery feeling of her touch on his bandages causing the scarred and unseen skin underneath to prickle with goosebumps. “Because I want to remember it, I want to remember this. Everyday I get to trace them, it means that you’re alive, and I don’t want to take that for granted.”

The rest of her words hung in the air, unsaid and yet completely understandable. She didn’t want to take Osamu’s life for granted like she took brother’s. She didn’t want to regret a single second before he inevitably disappeared from this world by his own volition. 

And Dazai could understand that well, knowing that he as well took Odasaku’s moments of life for granted. Every conversation, every word, he wished for him back, to have cataloged them to photographic memory just like she was doing right now. 

Still though, he didn’t deserve to have this kind of special treatment, Nothing about him was worth remembering, not like Odasaku was. Would Asa truly recall back to this feeling when he was gone? He couldn’t understand why. 

Asagao seemed to read his mind though, her hand falling away from his wrist before she flipped her own up to him in order to lightly grasp the covered gauze and place his hand on her bare skin. “Here, try it.” 

And he wanted to, he wanted to follow suit, the boy’s finger nervously traveling down her untouched skin in order to follow the purplish blue veins that resisted there. 

She was right, he could feel it, the blood that lied underneath the surface, the living spark as he followed it to the end. 

The truth was unmistakable. She was here. Asagao was here, she was alive. She wasn’t a fabrication of his mind or a fleeting memory of grief, she was right here beside him, supporting him, believing in him even when he couldn’t do that same for himself. 

Once he reached the end of her wrist, Asa spoke. “Reassuring, right?” 

And it was. He didn’t know how it was but it just..was. The skin to skin contact, it grounded him like a steak in the ground, anchoring him to reality without a second thought.  

He was glad she was alive, that he could feel the veins functioning behind her skin. Was that how Asa felt about him also, was that why she did it so often? No, it couldn’t be. The knowledge of his life wasn’t as important as hers. 

Then all at once, he felt his rigid shoulders start to cave in on themselves, allowing his mind to get lost in the motion of his fingers on her wrist over and over again. The motion, it lulled him into comfort before he could even realize it. 

Muttering back quietly, Osamu's hand then fell still. “Yeah..” 

He became silent then as Asagao fell into the new air easily. She was still really sleepy but the last thing she wanted was for Osu to be uncomfortable next to her. At least now he seemed a little more at ease. That was good. 

Sinking further into the sheets to nuzzle under the covers, Dazai finally pulled away a second later before resting his head back onto the wall behind him wordlessly. 

He was quite a distance away from her, the girl laying fully down while he sat up against the pillows but Asa didn't mind one bit. He was still closer than he had ever been before, and from this gap she could still hear the gentle intake of breath, of life even so. 

Having him stay with her was an impulse decision but Asa was glad she asked because right now that uncomfortable undeserving feeling of being in Oda’s bed was nowhere to be seen. 

Perhaps it was because Dazai was always more deserving of such a place anyways. He did know him better, after all. If anyone deserved this spot, deserved to feel comfortable in her brother’s old things then it was him. 

Shifting her head to the side, a piece of her auburn hair got in the way, Asa immediately pushing the strand away before her mind couldn’t help but recall the gentle way Samu kissed a similar piece just hours ago, how his lips had traveled to the area without a second thought. 

And that brought her back to the events of tonight, of the kiss that the traitor had forced upon her unexpectedly. It wasn’t like she was bothered by it, per say, but the differences between the two interactions did leave her with many lingering questions. 

Questions that although tipsy Asagao would’ve been horrified to ask, drunk Asagao had no problem doing so. If anyone would know the answer, it would be Samu anyways. “Hey Samu, you said you’re experienced with women, right? Like with..touching and stuff..?” 

She then watched Osamu’s eyes flicker with surprise before a cocky smirk slid onto his face, turning to her completely. “That I am, love. I’m the best there is. Why, you want some pointers?” 

Asa completely ignored his comment though, her mind to focus on her own thoughts and too busy to process his meaningless flirting. “So that means you’ve..you know..kissed someone before too?” 

Laughing under his breath at her innocent phrasing, Dazai pushed his finger to brush it across his bottom lip in a tease. “Obviously, love. I’ve had millions of kisses before. Makes all the ladies so crazy. Why you askin?” 

The last part of his sentence came out slurred as Asagao then mimicked his motions, feeling her lips brush over the pads of her fingers with a mutter. “I guess..I just wanted to know what it’s supposed to be like.” 

And that didn’t help with his tease, the boy gasping loudly in drunken surprise before reaching forward in order to squish her cheeks together like a fish out of water. “Awwww you’re so cute, Asa-chan wants to know how to smoochy smooch!” 

He was making fun of her, it was obvious and although intoxicated, Asa could sense it as well, her hand pulling him away with a frown. “Well, I only ask because when that traitor guy kissed me I didn’t really see the big deal. Honestly it wasn’t a pleasant experience and kind of overrated to what I’ve read about. So I was just wondering if it’s all like that or not.” 

It was something that she had stewed about silently over and over again. The books that she had read and the movies she’d seen framed kissing as this magical experience but her time with that port mafia traitor was anything but that. 

And being as inexperienced and naive as she was, Asa wasn’t sure that was always the case, that the media had somehow over exaggerated such a thing this entire time.

At first she thought that the gross and rather unimpressive kiss she had tonight was normal but the second Samu touched his lips to the ends of her hair something felt completely different. 

Perhaps it was because she was tipsy back then, but Asa wasn’t completely sure that was the case either. Osu hadn’t touched her lips like that traitor guy and but the sensation of his proximity was far more racing and mind numbing than if he had.

Was it a fluke? Was it only the alcohol that made his kiss more nerve wrecking and strange, or was it something more? She was hoping he could shed some light on the subject since she didn’t know. 

Because Samu was experienced with women, he kissed them and slept with them no problem. If anyone knew how she was supposed to feel then it would be him. She didn’t think she could fall asleep without finally getting an answer anyways. 

Dazai only narrowed his eyes though, taking in her broken logic before pushing his lips together in a quiet hum of interest. “Hmm. Well, how about this? I have a great idea..” 

Yet that’s when the boy shifted his body towards her, his left arm reaching down across in order to place it on the mattress and cage her in so that he was leaning over her sensually. 

Reaching his hand down, she then felt his slender thumb brush her bottom lip in a haze. “Why don’t we kiss and you can find out?” 

And Dazai meant it was a joke, he put her in this position purposely so that she would flush and push him away with embarrassment. That was what was supposed to happen. 

She was asking such dangerous things after all, playing with the topic while he sat beside her, knowing fully well that he could’ve taken advantage of her if he so choosed. 

Yet that’s when the girl simply looked up at him before speaking plain. “Okay. Let’s do it.” 

Blinking in disbelief for her casual response, Dazai stood frozen, his finger stilling against her lips before immediately pulling back like she was on fire in order to scramble away from the conversation as fast as possible. 

Dazai may have been drunk, but he wasn’t that drunk. In fact, her consent only made him wake up, crashing straight into sobriety without permission. Just what the hell kind of response was that?!

No, he needed to leave. He couldn’t talk about this, especially with her. 

Pushing his feet to stand on shaky legs, Dazai then left the room immediately, the action causing Asa’s body to sit up with pure confusion. What did she just say? Why was he going so suddenly? Oh no, she didn’t offend him, did she?

Asa then scrambled out of bed as well, sleep now far from her mind as she drunkenly stumbled out of the room to see him standing in the bathroom, his head dipped towards the sink. 

Oh no, he looked really upset. “Samu, did you hear me? I said it’s okay. I don’t mind.” 

Dazai only clenched the sides of the sink even tighter though, feeling Asa’s watchful gaze before he sucked in a heavy breath in order to right himself and flick the middle of her forehead with a tight grin. “That was a joke, love.” 

Reaching forward to rub the spot on her forehead, Samu then slipped past her, causing her head to turn in confusion. 

It was a joke? But he brought up a good point, a way to prove her theory. “Really? But I think it could be a good idea. That way I’d know or not if it’s the same.” 

And to be honest, the idea of kissing Samu wasn’t the worst one in the universe. She already knew where they stood relationship wise so it would be purely platonic and unmessy. Besides, if she was going to test this theory then she would’ve preferred it to be Osu. 

Dazai didn’t seem to feel the same though, his steps freezing immediately before a dark laugh seeped from his lips. “First of all, it’s a horrible idea, and I can already tell you that it’s the same. Kissing is only about control, about making the other person weaker so you can take advantage of them. It’s a frivolous activity, a means to an end. That’s it.” 

The boy believed that as well, knowing that his experiences with intimacy and sex were always about one thing and one thing only, control. It’s what the mafia had taught him, it’s what had been ingrained into his mind until it was second nature. 

He never cared for the action, but it’s not like that mattered. His relations were always shallow at best, never for his frivolous pleasure but rather for a purpose.

Sex and the act of touch were the perfect interrogation tools after all. 

They brought women to their knees, they brought pleads and begs to seep from their lips. The actions caused even the strongest willed people to fall victim to him, their own bodies betraying their promises of secrecy to get exactly what the demon prodigy wanted. 

Now, that’s not saying that he didn’t make them feel good about it. No, he had plenty of whores and bitches crying tears of joy over his performances, but he never cared about the process, only the result. 

No, he broke them in the sweetest way possible, in a way that brought them back on their hands and knees begging for more. But once they had served their use he threw them out, much of their heartbreaking dissatisfaction. 

It didn’t matter how many times he kissed them, fucked then, touched them, he always made sure he was the one in control. Dazai alone was always in charge, never once did he allow himself to slip. He always seduced, but never fell victim to the disease. 

Not once. 

So the fact that Asa was asking him to do the same, to break her sweetly with his touch just like he had done a million times before, it was both extremely alluring and absolutely terrifying to think about. 

The girl only nodded her head at his explanation though, taking everything at face value. She had nothing else to go on after all, and his words did fit the way she felt about that traitor's kiss. So he must have been right.

Putting a hand to her chin in thought, Asa replied. “Hmm interesting. That’s different from other things I’ve heard. Then again, it makes sense given my experience. I still want to test it out though, just to be sure.” 

At her words, Dazai put his hand out towards the wall next to him for support before trying his best to brush off her comment. “Damn Asa-chan. Do you really wanna kiss me that badly? I didn’t know you felt that way, not that I can blame you.” 

Asa fired back immediately though, breaking his resolve in a single instance. “Well I mean, yeah. If I was going to pick anyone to try it with, it would be you.” 

She didn’t think he would be so resistant to the idea, given his past experiences with women. If anything, Samu loved to brag about the things he did with them, always asking her if she was jealous. 

And she wasn’t of course, she couldn’t be. They were just faking dating after all. It wasn't up to her who he slept with or dated so his words and jabs didn’t ever bother her. 

But for a self proclaimed playboy, Osamu’s entire body language didn’t seem eager right now. He didn’t look like a trained lover, pouncing on any piece of ass he could get his hands on. 

No, he looked kind of…scared.

And that was the last thing she wanted, Asa immediately backtracking with a slurred stumble. “A-Ah, Unless you don’t wanna...I totally get that…I just thought that you’d be up for it since you kiss lots of other girls...and it’s not like I’m different from them so I just thought...”

She wasn’t different either, Asa knew that. They were friends but nowhere near lovers. He didn’t have any obligation to treat her special. Their deal only mentioned his stories and her letters about her brother. She already said they didn’t have to do the mushy stuff. 

Him being her boyfriend and her being his girlfriend were just meaningless titles anyways. They didn’t hold any power, nor did they mean anything of weight. 

Just then, that traitor's words flashed inside her head, making her face fall. 

“What an ugly beast you turned out to be. No wonder why Dazai chose you, only a demon could love a face like that.”  

Ah, right. That’s probably what it was. He probably didn’t wanna kiss her because of her unnatural face. That’s what that guy said. Not like she could blame him though. Of course Samu wouldn’t kiss a ugly beast like her. 

Yet that’s when Dazai sharply turned towards her, his face full of conflict as he processed her words. And he wished things were that simple, that he could just say he wasn’t in the mood or whatever and leave it at that. 

But you see, the problem was that was the biggest lie in the entire universe. 

Because as fucked up as it was, he did want to kiss her. He wanted to give her exactly what she asked for and break her so incredibly slow that she would thank him for it later. 

And he hated himself for it, for the idea snapping inside his head without permission. He wanted to take her kiss, ravage her lips and claim them for his own, he wanted her to be another notch in his belt of women that fell over him. He wanted it all. 

It was a challenge, a sick and pleasing challenge that normally Dazai wouldn’t pass up. To figure her out, to make her cry out by his touch and fall victim to his charms. The sacrificial lamb was right in front of him, practically asking to be eaten and the demon wanted it more than anything. 

That’s why he was so pissed when he found out that the traitor took her first kiss before him, claiming her before him. He didn’t understand it at the moment, his hand reaching for that gun without a second thought but right now it all made sense. 

His selfish heart wanted her all to himself. 

Feeling his voice strain, Dazai shook his head, willing such thoughts from his mind. “That’s not the problem, princess.” 

Asa couldn’t help but pause at that, taking a step closer in confusion. Did he just say that he wanted to kiss her? But then what was holding him back? She had already given him permission, hadn’t she? “I don’t understand.” 

Dazai only took one back though, not trusting his own actions as his un bandaged eye found the half full glass of whiskey still on the table a couple feet away. 

Odasaku’s glass, the one they never cleaned up. 

It was almost like the man himself was watching the scene, judging Dazai’s words. 

That singular object, it mocked him in every single way, bringing a new realization to life without permission. 

Wait, when was the last time he had referred to Asa as Odasaku’s little sister, when was the last time he connected those two things together? 

Besides tonight, it had been months. 

No, it couldn’t be. When Dazai first met the girl that’s all he could think about, not seeing her as a person but rather an extension of Odaskau himself. She wore his face and that was enough, not bothering to give her an identity other than that. 

He admired only the traits that Odasaku shared, the things that made them related. No, a year ago Asa wasn’t a person to him, she was just a vessel to get what he so desperately craved, more time with his old best friend. 

But somewhere along the way, things shifted, they changed in the worst way possible. Because now the things that he noticed and admired were different and so far removed from Odasaku himself.

Her eyes, the unique turquoise that her brother didn’t share, her ability to see through him and not ignore his suffering, they had nothing to do with his old friend. They were more than just symptoms of the blood in her veins. They were things that only Asagao could possess. 

And in doing so, Dazai had unknowingly started to blur the reality and detached the title of Odasaku’s sister from her very being.

She wasn’t just Odasaku’s unnamed sister anymore. Now she was Asagao. 

It was the worst thing he could have possibly done, because now he was looking at her like her own person, like she wasn’t the only person in the world he couldn’t have. 

He had forgotten his place, drifted too far into dangerous territory. She wasn’t just some girl, she was the one thing that Odasaku treasured more than anything else. She was untouchable, especially to the demon like himself. 

How foolish to have overlooked such a thing. 

And that in itself made the boy crumble, a hand reaching up to run his finger through his hair with a bitter laugh. “When Odasaku mentioned me in those letters I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it so that I could kiss his little sister.” 

At the sound of her brother’s name, Asa’s eyes widened. Oh, so that's what this was about. He was holding back because of her big brother. Now it all made sense. 

Reaching a hand out, the girl softened. “Samu..” 

Osamu only recoiled back though, still keeping his distance for safety. “Trust me, love. If he already didn’t want me near you, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have wanted this either.” 

The boy knew it so clearly, how horrified his best friend would’ve been to hear the thoughts in his head, to know that the demon prodigy, the mafia’s best torturer had desired his little sister in such an awful manner. 

Odaskau would have never forgiven him for such a thing. 

And although it was probably futile, Dazai was trying, he was trying so hard to be a good man, to be the man that Asagao and Odasaku said he could be. Yes, he wanted those things but he was holding back, forcing himself to walk away from them so they didn’t destroy her. 

But it seemed like Asa didn’t feel the same way, her lips turning to a bothered frown. “But you said that kissing didn’t mean anything, that it was not really that big of a deal, right? Then it’s fine. It’s not like you’re gonna hurt me. I already told you, I trust you.” 

Not going to hurt her? How could she say that? Dazai hurt everything he touched, even himself. She couldn’t say that so confidently, especially with these evil thoughts inside his head right now. She needed to stop saying that word, the one that meant trust, the one that made him want to scream.

He couldn’t be trusted, he shouldn’t be. 

Not thinking about his next words, the anxiety slipped past the barriers of his facade, his voice frantic and frazzled all at once due to the alcohol. “S-Stop that, stop saying that. You shouldn’t..”

Freezing immediately, Dazai forced his lips shut before taking a long suffocating breath. No, he needed to stay in control, to push past the liquid poison in his system and get his head on straight. Anything to make her understand. 

Asa then watched the boy close his eyes for a millisecond before finally taking a step towards her, each move calculating and slow. “You got it all wrong, sweetheart. It is a big deal. Your brother would’ve thought it was a big deal.”

And he hoped that would be enough, that she would back off and let it be. But unfortunately Asagao was never that kind of person, she was never the one to ignore his suffering, even when he so desperately wished that could be the case. 

Lifting her head up to meet him, Asa then uttered the most dangerous question of all. “Well, what do you wanna do?” 

Suddenly, he was taken back to the events of tonight, when Chuuya had accused him of pursuing her just so she could be coaxed into the mafia. That slug didn’t know about their deal, about her connection to Odasaku so of course he had assumed that. 

But just like before, Dazai answered the same. “It doesn't matter what I want, love. That’s not the point.” 

That seemed to be the wrong response though, watching Asa’s hazy half lidded eyes sadden into something unreadable before her fingers reached out to touch his cheek. 

The motion was soft, far too soft for his liking as Dazai’s entire body flinched for the skin to skin contact. Usually she only touched the spots that were covered, the bandaged gauze always creating a bridge from comfort to discomfort. 

But not now. Now it was different. 

It was almost like wanted him to feel her, to focus back on her rather than the self hatred that coated his entire head as she whispered lightly. “Yes it does, what you want should always matter. It matters to me.” 

It shouldn’t have, it really shouldn’t have. If only she knew how dark it was underneath it all, if only she knew about that alluring pull he felt when she agreed to kiss him. How he wanted to do it, to bend her backwards and find out how to make her fall apart for his own pleasure. 

It was disgusting, and Dazai hated himself for feeling that way, knowing that his desire to touch her wasn’t from a romantic or sweet intention. It was simply the allure of a game, of a puzzle that made him wish for it.  

He didn’t process intimacy the same way others did. No, what he sought after was much more cruel and vicious. And from the look in her eyes right now it was obvious to tell she didn’t understand any of it.  

So he tried to, he tried to hold together that fragile string inside his head, forcing the demon down with the alcohol until it disappeared completely. He had to, or else he’d truly soil Odasaku’s memory and spit on his grave. 

Falling into the hand that held his cheek, Osamu stuttered back, that resolve he once had fading in an instant. “D-Don’t..I’m not a good man..I’m trying..I really am but I’m not yet…don’t give me that power..I’ll break you..” 

Asa voice was immediate, desperate to hold him together. “You won’t.” 

But the boy’s voice replied just as fast, sharp and serious. “I will.” 

It was a simple fact. If she kept letting him do what he wanted, if she kept trusting him like this then he would break her. Not only that, he’d kill her with his own selfish heart, and that was something that could not happen.  

Asagao was quiet then, seemingly taking in his answer before her thumb lightly brushed a line across his cheek, her movements mimicking the same motion as earlier in the night when he showed her his eye. 

And though they were now covered again by gauze, she still saw through him even so. “If I wasn’t Oda’s sister would you still be saying that?” 

That question, it was like a nail in the coffin for him, simply because he had his answer immediately. No, it wouldn’t have been the same. If she wasn’t related to Odaskau then there would’ve been no discussion. 

He would have already kissed her, the second she casually agreed he would’ve pressed his lips onto hers without a second thought. And not only that, he would've already have chained her by his side in the mafia, he wouldn't have cared at all about her well being.

Because that was just the selfish kind of greedy man he was. 

Chuuya was right, he was just a bastard that only thought for himself. The only thing that was even holding himself together right now was that mocking glass of liquor they had given Odasaku’s ghost just steps away on the table. 

He hoped that she didn’t see it, the invisible chains that just barely bound him down. 

But she did, of course she did. Asagao saw through everything, the look in his singular eye and trembling muscles between her fingers telling her all she needed to know. 

He was suffering, Osamu was suffering right now with some much self loathing and hatred. It practically radiated off of him and even though the booze made it hard to focus on more than one thing, this was the only thing that mattered in her hazy little mind. 

She didn’t need to think about anything else. 

What had her brother done to him? Why was he holding back so adamantly? She didn’t want that for him, she didn’t want him to fall apart and crumble or think he was evil incarnate just because he would’ve kissed her if she was any other person.  

They weren't in a relationship, he didn't need to worry about such things. About breaking her or destroying her big brother's last promise. He didn’t need to be terrified of making a mistake because there were no mistakes that could be made. 

Stilling the movement of her thumb on his cheek, Asa then smiled softly, wanting him to see through his own darkness. “Hey, don’t think so hard about it. it’s just a test, alright? A one time thing. You aren’t soiling or shaming anything. I already said you could do it. You’d be helping me if you did, then I’d know if it’s the same or not.” 

Didn’t he understand that by doing this he would be a good man, that he would be gently assisting her to figure out her own theories? He would help her be able to compare and contrast, to come up with a definite answer by her own volition.   

But then again, if he truly was still scared of ruining her, of that kind of thing then she wasn’t going to push. The last thing she ever wanted to do was make him uncomfortable or feel worse about himself.

 It didn’t matter if he had basically confessed to wanting to do it, she knew the barriers he faced were great. “I understand if it’s no though. But if it is,I want you to be the one to say it and not just because my big brother thought you should..” 

She wanted him to voice it himself, to reject her with his own heart and not the one that her brother had left behind. Asagao didn’t want him to look at her and hate himself, to see the flaws and shortcomings that a good man didn’t have. 

No, she wanted him to understand that Oda’s opinion wasn’t the only thing that mattered. That her brother shouldn’t be the one to control every thought and feeling inside his mind. 

The only response she received was silence though, causing her hand to lower from his face with understanding. 

Perhaps that was too hard to do also. Very well. Then she’d be the one to make the decision. “Okay. I’m sorry I pushed.” 

Giving him a small smile of reassurance, Asa then turned around in order to go check on the hanging black jacket out on the balcony, her steps slightly stumbling with her loss of coordination.  

Yet just as she left the room completely, Dazai heard her speak to herself, the tone muttered and sad. “Guess my first kiss really was a bust. Ah well.” 

Sliding the door to the outside balcony behind her, the sixteen year old boy was left in silence, the feeling twisting around him all at once. She had given him what he wanted, dropping the topic completely and yet Dazai didn’t feel happy one bit. 

Because that last comment, the sad tone of it only brought back what he had been trying to forget all night.

And that was that her being kissed was completely and utterly his fault. 

He wasn’t smart enough, miscalculated that traitor's intentions and it caused her to lose the one thing she could never get back. It didn’t matter if kissing didn’t mean anything to him, she didn’t deserve to have her first one taken like that, so cruel and unfeeling. 

No, Asa deserved better than that, she deserved the best. She was a good person, better than he could ever be and he had let her down so astronomically. 

He failed to protect her when it counted and Dazai would never forgive himself for it. 

What would Odaskau have said, how disappointed would he have been to have known that? Dazai was too scared to even think about it. His best friend had left his little sister in the boy's care and he fucked it up so badly. 

So much so, he wanted to fix it, to go back in time and kill that bastard before he could even get his hands on her like that. But that was impossible, so what other option was there? There wasn’t one.

Although that’s when her words flashed through his head once more. She said that it was a bust but what if that wasn’t the case, what if he could cover up that unpleasant memory with something else, something new? 

Dazai’s eyes then began to deepen with possibility, with a way to make his fucked up thoughts and feelings seem okay. It would be okay to kiss her if he was really helping her, right? If he had good intentions, that would be okay, right? 

Odasaku would have understood then, wouldn’t he? That he did it to cover up her first bad experience, to make everything okay again, to fix his mistake.

One night of overindulgence, that wasn’t so bad, right? 

Just for her sake. 

It was a bullshit excuse, a ruse of what he really wanted but Dazai grasped at the straw even so. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the plan wasn’t really for her, but that facade made everything so much so easier, so much more bearable. 

It was a way to still supply his greedy desire, his sick selfish soul. 

She returned a second later, the sliding glass door closing behind her as she approached with a sigh. “Sorry Samu, your jacket is almost dry but not yet. How about we deal out another round of cards while we wait? I’m not that sleepy anymore anyways.” 

Yet the second she reached down to grab the nearby deck of cards, she heard Dazai’s voice, the air around it growing far more heavy than before. “How did he kiss you?” 

Feeling herself freeze at the question, Asa immediately snapped her head up in confusion, completely caught off guard. “W-What?” 

Suddenly, she was face to face with the boy, his distance only a few inches away from her as Asa’s breath hitched in reply. The way he was looking at her now, it was different, darker, more demanding of something. 

But because of her lack of response, Dazai spoke again, his fingers latching onto her chin in order to control her movements and face him. “I asked a question, love. How did he kiss you?” 

Why did he want to know that? What kind of benefit would that bring him? Asa wasn’t sure. 

Yet even so, she gave him what he wanted, recalling the night through her drunken recollection. “O-Oh, uhh he took off my glasses and pushed my head against the prison wall.” 

There was anger in his eyes then, that same dark pool of fury that she saw when he murdered the guy earlier in the night. Something about her words bothered him, enough for the demon to peek out behind the man. 

Yet before she could speak on it, Dazai’s hands disappeared from her chin, moving in order for each one to rest firmly on her lower hips, his fingers digging into the turquoise fabric with some kind of need. 

Pushing his body closer, Asa was forced to step backwards, her feet still shaky and uncoordinated as he guided her until she felt her body bump against a wall, caging her into place by invisible chains. 

Humming to himself at her flustered reaction, he then tilted his head dangerously close. “Mm..like this?” 

Asa could only nod back though, all the words dissipating between her lips before she had a chance to speak them. There was something about this position, this air that made it hard to breath and her heartbeat pound against her chest erratically. 

 Hold on, now she knew what he was doing. Samu was re-creating her first kiss, copying the way that the kid did it so she could truly see if it was the same or not. Wait, that meant he was going to kiss her, he was going to give her what she asked for. Was he sure?

One his hands then reached forward, grasping onto the ends of her glasses before pulling them off her face in order to slip them into his pocket, her eyes immediately glued to him the second her vision became un blurred. 

Perhaps before she would’ve been scared but after his sweet reassurance tonight, Asa didn’t mind looking, seeing him fully. She still couldn’t do it for long periods of time but right now while they were so close, she couldn’t help but dive into the chestnut color and drown in it. 

And looking at him now, the old layers were still prevalent but there was also a new one, almost like it had manifested in real time due to their distance. It appeared like a lightning strike, shocking her core immediately. 

Desire. 

He was looking at her with desire. 

She was correct as well, Dazai feeling that overtaking emotion like a poison coursing through every single of his veins. Oh, the things he wanted to do to that pretty little face, the lines he so desperately wanted to cross just from the way she looked at him, it was immeasurable.

So filled with adoration and delusional trust, worshiping him as her center of the universe. It fed into every single toxic bone in his body, desperate to capture it forever. 

What did he ever do to deserve such an expression, to have her view him in such an ethereal light? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anything she had offered him, and yet he still felt the need to hungrily take it even so. 

Moving his hand up to press his fingers against her cheek, he then shifted the muscles in his palm, causing her head to lift in order to follow the command perfectly in an instant, submitting to his selfish request. 

How beautiful she was, staring at him with those waiting and hollow eyes of hers. They did something to him each time, sucking him into the eagerness of his touch.  

And though he didn’t want to lose such a thing, he knew that in order to recreate that bastard’s kiss, he had to sacrifice them for her benefit. “Close your eyes.” 

She did so instantly, her long fluffy eyelashes falling to a close only for his lips to twist up in sick satisfaction. She followed so well for him, obeyed him so perfectly. He absolutely loved it, it was addicting in the worst possible way. 

God, he could feel the thoughts in the back of his head, the ones that wanted to break her, shatter her beyond reconciliation and then build her back up to his own design. 

He tried to ignore it until now but that was almost impossible after watching her perfect submission to his fingers. 

Touch was about control after all, and Dazai was determined to make her see that. To have her realize the power it held so that she would never ask to do such a thing ever again. It’s what she asked for after all, it’s what she practically begged him for. 

And he had no problem showing her that. 

Bruising a silent thumb over her lips, he watched her breath hitch again, a slight tremble appearing across the surface to his satisfaction. There we go, that’s it. She was reacting just like he had expected her to, how every other woman did when he touched them. 

Dazai then leaned closer to seal the deal only for his head to automatically freeze a couple inches away from her touch, Odasaku’s memory drumming in the mind of his head like a death sentence. 

No, this was okay, just ignore it. Pretend she’s someone else, pretend she’s not Odasaku’s sister. She’s just some other whore, that’s it, she’s not his best friend’s sister. She wasn’t untouchable. 

Yet the more he tried not to think about it, the more it did the opposite as flashes of Odasaku tormented him behind his eyes, of Ango telling him to stay away from her because he knew this would happen, that he’d break her when given the chance. 

Asagao noticed his hesitation as well, the girl’s eyes opening in order to see that Osamu was ghostly pale, his hands unmoving from her side as they shook with conflict. 

He looked to be on the verge of a panic attack, like he was screaming at himself in his own mind and she hated the sight. 

So much so, she softened in reply, before carefully reaching forward in order to remove his hand from her skin, not wanting him to hurt so badly because of her. “Hey, it’s okay, Samu. We don’t have to do it. I promise.” 

Pulling away from her spot on the wall, Asa then moved past him, causing Dazai’s eyes to follow her as she went. And there was something about the sight that made him spiral, the demon and his desire for her screaming at him to not let her go. 

To devour her completely before she disappeared from his sight. 

And with it, the fragile string of control in his mind suddenly snapped as Ango and Odasaku’s words of warning drowned out with the liquor in his system. 

Reaching forward like a puppet controlling his movements, Dazai then latched onto her forearm roughly, pulling her body backwards and spinning it around in order to slip his arm around her waist and collide his greedy lips onto hers. 

Asagao couldn't help but widen her eyes at the contact, the feeling of his lips on hers causing her head to spin and breath to dissipate in a single second in order to flutter her lashes closed with overwhelming shock. 

He held her so tightly, so possessively, caging her into his body and not letting go in order to explore the sweet poison that had been injected into his veins. 

And god, was it sweet, sweeter than anything he had ever tasted before. 

Dazai didn’t know that could be possible, that someone’s lips could feel this good, his head tilting forward to deepen it immediately like a hungry fool who had been starved for a decade. 

And with it came the most beautiful and tiny little noise seeping from her lips, the sound of enjoyment falling into his and bringing him into madness without a second thought. 

And just like that, every single past experience, every plan he had before the contact fizzed out of his brain, unable to process anything but the addicting feeling of the gift of her touch. 

Her lips, the way they moved across his, so soft, so tender and utterly breathtaking, the feeling of his skin on hers, it was nothing short of otherworldly. His cheeks, they felt like they were burning, his lungs ceasing of all oxygen as the arm around her waist tightened her even closer to him. 

Before this started he fully had the intention to control her, to make her submit and whine under his touch but now that he had realized what this could actually be, Dazai’s plan somehow seemed to reverse. 

What he had meant to control was now controlling him, and he didn’t even have the strength to fight it. 

But how could that be? He was the seducer, he was made sure to be in charge every single time. But if that was the case, why did he instead feel utterly swept away by absolutely everything about her? 

God, he was so pathetic. He wanted to worship her, to die between these lips and then never come back. Fuck, he’d even get on his knees and beg if it meant to have this feeling for the rest of his life. 

Yet just as it appeared, it was ripped away, Asa’s head reeling back in out to gasp out a breath of air and place her shaky heads on his chest to steady herself. 

And almost immediately, Dazai felt it also, his lungs ceasing with desperation as he forced the oxygen back to his lungs and willed the black spots in the corner of his vision to dissipate. 

After that, there was only silence, neither of them speaking against the tense air before Dazai finally broke the seal, shoving down all remnants of what had occurred. “Told you, it’s the same.” 

Asa replied a second later, her eyes still dazed and distant. “Yeah, you were right.” 

Then before he could think about anything else, the bandaged boy quickly raced past her, grabbing his half wet jacket in order to fumble to the entrance and leave completely as Asa followed him up to the door. 

Taking a shaky breath, both kids then simultaneously placed their fingers to their burning lips before sliding down on opposite sides of Odasaku’s door in order to cover their faces and think the same exact thing at the same exact time. 

The same? 

There was no way that was the same. 

----

(Really proud of these two chapters. Show some love if you do also!)

[yet-another-heathen]

Fire on the Mountain - V

2,611 words. Original Work: The Jackal of An-Nadr.

For new readers, The Jackal is an ongoing whump series set in 1,200 BCE, where pre-Islamic fantasy meets the love of bloody sword fights, worlds that are as vivid and alive as the characters, and the agonizing loss being dragged away from home into a life you never asked for.

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Chapter Warning | defiant whumpee, cauterization of an already agonizing wound, manhandling, non-con drugging (aphrodisiac, repurposed as a sedative), ancient medical practices, vivid hallucinations, staring up into your captor's eyes and begging with everything you have for them to stop, UNREALITY, xenophobia

Taglist | @killtheprotagonist @secretwhumplair @ink-and-salt @kixngiggles @brutal-nemesis @thebewilderer @whumpsical @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whimperwoods @shydragonrider @pizzasthengym @thecyrulik @ceph-the-writing-spook @mylifeisonthebookshelf @ohwhumpydays @redwingedwhump @whump-queen

The big ifrit had gone up to summon the others. Nadeem was left to try to pull himself back together. His head was a mess of that golden, swirling pleasure, and he couldn’t push it to the background no matter how he tried. 

He wanted so badly to get up, to run. But his dizziness left him clinging to the bed, barely able to move.

Something was happening to the room around him. As he lay there trying to breathe through the waves of sensation, the shadows began to move. 

Some very far-away part of his mind felt like it was being lit on fire. He watched it from the window above his sisters' beds, barely making out shapes in the night as the blue sky over the hills burned. He wanted to wipe the fog from his eyes, but when he tried all it did was blur the light.

Red light poured into the dark as far-distant embers glittered and shifted, swimming with such incredible radiance that he couldn't tear his eyes away. Everything was still. Everything was so still, and so quiet, and so soft.

"Fahime, Hasti," he gasped. "wait—”

He was slipping. Everything was slipping.

The sound of footsteps returning down the ladder. Dark hands. A careful touch. Someone lifted him from the bed, weightlessness making his head swim. He glanced down, Fahime gathering herself in his kurta as the moonlight played off her face. He pulled her closer, running a soothing hand over her hair.

“Nadi, are we safe?”

He didn't...this wasn't right…

What was happening to him?

"Of course we are," he reassured her, lifting her up so she could see, too. "Look. The wind is taking it away from the valley. See how it goes brighter near the top?”

"But won't it destroy the trees?”

His mouth twitched, blinking slowly toward the distance.

"Yes it will," he murmured, resting his cheek on her head. "But it will be alright, ukhti. Even when things are destroyed, with enough time they always grow again.”

---

He didn't know where they were taking him. Only that there were more hands on him than he could count, and that he was going whether he wanted to or not.

Tendrils of darkness and dreams were still tugging at his mind like mud at his feet, pulling him downward as if there were something waiting for him in the cold, black muck below. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

The bright light of day flickered and disappeared as he was taken below deck to a different part of the ship, feet barely touching the steps as he stumbled down the ladder.

Down into the mud, down into the shallows where the sunlight gleamed between wave crests. Water weeds blooming gold and green above him, casting columns of daylight through the silt.

The room they entered was like nothing he expected to see aboard a ship. One of the entire walls was lined with tall mosaic windows, arched at the tops into elegant points. They splintered and reformed in shapes Nadeem could swear were moving, casting white and lavender light throughout the room. The opposite wall towered with shelves, glittering with vials and dried bouquets of herbs. Rows of empty cots stretched onward toward the daylight pouring through the open space at the far side of the gallery. Pale blue sky could be seen just beyond. The air was soaked in smoke and the sweet, earthy perfume of decaying plants.

And then there was the table. A great, solid slab that looked as heavy and unmovable as the pillar it was pressed against. Metal instruments, the likes of which he had never before imagined or seen, were swaying gently where they lined in racks along that pillar. Though the discoloration around the hinges betrayed their age, there were so many sharp points gleaming in the light that it made him nearly crumble to his knees in panic. 

Blood smeared across the wood as his injured foot caught on uneven deck planks, though the jarring pain was not nearly enough to stop him from skidding along as he was dragged toward the massive table at the center of the room.

One of the ifrit from before, the one with the white turban, was busy directing the others about the space. His voice was sharp and clear, hands gesturing and digging about in narrow wooden cupboards as he spoke.

"G̶͇̔e̵̮͑ẗ̵͍́ ̶̹̎ẖ̶̎i̴̢͋m̴̼͌ ̷͉̽ő̵̧ñ̵͓ ̴̧͝t̶̟̋h̵̼̀e̵̼͒ ̷̖̾t̶̲̃a̶͇͘b̴̲͝l̴̘͝e̷̖̓.̶̳̓ ̸͔̔N̶̪͘e̷̲͠s̴̠͝a̵͛͜r̶̜͠ē̶̢,̶̪͘ ̵̦̃h̴͈͘a̷̻̒ņ̷̃ď̵̖ ̴̗͛m̷̗̈́e̴̺͌ ̵̘̈́t̷͌͜h̸̺͐ë̶̘́ ̶̮̇s̶͉̾i̶̼̓l̶̻͆k̸͖̃ ̵̝̅m̵̛̺ḯ̷͚n̶͔͆t̶̯̕,̸͇̇ ̵͔̋i̸̟͆n̴͉̓ ̵̛̭ẗ̵̝h̸̥͋ȇ̵̮ ̴̈́ͅl̶̗̽ë̴͙́f̶͎̀t̵̟̚ ̵̰̓c̵̥͛u̸͈͐p̶͊ͅb̶̨̈ō̶̮ä̵̺́r̴͇̒d̵̢͂—"

"Let go of me!" Nadeem snarled. He seethed and clawed into the arms of his captors, but could do nothing to stop them as they lifted him onto the table.

The world was still dark and morphing and swaying around him, and there were so many hands with so many unbreakable grips holding him down and moving him. He could barely tell up from down. 

Part of him was drifting, untethered, even as his own heartbeat grew deafening in his ears. 

The woman from that night around the fire was leaning against one wall with all her arms crossed, watching them. Their eyes made brief, searing contact before his attention was torn away.

"Ṕ̵̱a̴͖��s̴̤͐s̸̝̀ ̷̼͘m̷̜̕e̸͠ͅ ̷͚̈t̷̛ͅḣ̵͚a̸̹̔t̵͕͑ ̶̺̕s̶̳͌t̸̠̀r̸̭̐a̷̢̚p̸̢͝.̸̼͒ ̴̞͆W̸̬͊a̶͔͋t̵͎̓ċ̷̺h̸͝ͅ ̴̟̇h̵͚͊í̴̝s̶͚͋ ̷̱̑t̵̂ͅę̴̕ë̸͚́ţ̷́ĥ̷̳!̵̠̈".

Leather straps were cinched tight around his wrists and chest, the wide buckles tightening until he could hardly move. What was this? He wrenched and fought, gasping when someone grabbed his injured foot and strapped it down even harder than the rest of him.

Oh no. No no no no—

Someone shouted from the other side of the room where it stood open to the daylight on the opposite side of the instrument wall. Nadeem tried to turn and look, but two long hands pressed into either side of his head and turned his face back up. The big ifrit that had captured him was bowed over his head, keeping his face steady and forcing him to look away from what was happening. Making him meet its eyes.

It spoke quietly to him, low words tumbling from its lips as it watched his face.

"L̷̲̏o̸͕͝o̶͕͠ķ̴̿ ̵̢̈́a̶̰̍t̸̅͜ ̸̬̑m̵̦͊e̶͖̾.̸̲̎"

The world was spinning, this was all so wrong—

"Coenta help me, I'll curse your bloodline to oblivion!" He twisted in his restraints, what very little he could. "Get off!"

In the very corner of his vision he saw another ifrit, a burly older woman with hair like a halo, hand something long and straight to the one with the white turban. He tried to focus on it, to see what he was holding...

And his stomach dropped through his spine.

His entire body arced off the table in absolute panic, thrashing so hard the leather straps and their hardware creaked with strain.

"NO! No, nonono, DON'T!" he yelled, almost dislocating his shoulders in his effort to get away, thrashing so hard that several of the ifrit crowded closer to push him back down. "Keep it, no, keep it away from me—"

A long metal iron sent ripples out into the air around it, the tip glowing orange with heat. 

The ifrit circled around toward his foot, nodding once to his captor.

"Ľ̷̺o̵͙͑o̵͇̒k̶̪̈́ ̵͕̂ą̶͠t̴̯͑ ̷̇͜m̷̰̐e̶̝͆,̵͍̈́ ̷͔̇s̸̡̒w̴͍̓ĕ̶̬e̴̲̚t̷̲͝h̸̠͠e̵̟̿ä̴͇́r̴͈̀t̸̮̏," the ifrit above him tilted his face back up, obscuring his view of the iron. "T̵͕̀h̶̃ͅe̶̩͊r̸͈̓è̷̘.̵̨͆ ̸͖̃J̸̞̊u̶̘̒s̷̘͝t̶̰̃ ̷̢̓l̸͉͛o̸̩̍o̸͖͂k̷̦̈ ̶̝̋a̴̘̎t̶̛̳ ̵̻̽m̵̞͐e̴̦̓.̶͔̏"

"NO, no, not this! Oh gods please, I can't—" Nadeem felt the heat getting closer to him, and every attempt at hiding his terror crumbled. He stared up into its eyes as open fear poured across his face, stark and open beneath the ifrit's gaze. "No no no NO NO—"

His vision went white, heat spearing up his entire leg with agony like nothing he had never felt before. Everything was pain, so bright his mind couldn't truly process it. And Nadeem lost every ounce of control over his voice, and screamed.

And immediately the sound of metal clattered violently against wood. Every set of hands jerked away from his body at once.

He was sobbing through the darkness as the world swam back into existence, heat radiating up his foot like he was still being burnt. He was babbling at them to make it stop. The shocked eyes of every ifrit in the room fixed on him. The iron lay discarded on the wood behind his torturer, as though it had been flung violently out of his hand. Smoke was beginning to pour from the wood beneath it, smoldering and threatening to light.

The people around him were burning too. Smoke poured from their shoulders, their chests lit from within like embers surging to life with a change in the breeze. And every single one of them was staring at him.

The ifrit with the white turban was the first to break himself out of his shock. His fanged mouth snapped shut where he'd been gaping at Nadeem. He turned and scooped up the iron just before it could ignite.

"Y̵̖͐e̶̯̊ḙ̴͝z̶̯͂ǘ̴̦m̷̢̏ȏ̷̹n̵͇̅," he called. There was not a sound in all the room but his voice and Nadeem's crying. Then again when he didn't look up, "Y̷͈͒e̷͇̅e̷̯̅z̴̫͛ú̶ͅm̸̼̒ö̷͓n̶̗̂!̷̲́ ̵̫̃H̷̻͐o̵̭̎l̵͎̉d̷̾ͅ ̶̞̑h̷͍̒i̵̫̅m̶̠͝. T̵̲̓͝h̶̻͙̊́ë̴̟̪ ̷̜͇͋͑ȑ̵̗̼͋ȇ̶̲̦̚s̵͉̀t̵̫̫̑̋ ̷͉̘̾ọ̵̿̚f̵̙͒͑ ̶͎̺̈́y̶̰̲̆̀o̷̥͌u̷̒ͅ,̶͚́ ̶͕̯͗g̶̜̞͋̀ȇ̸̳͕́t̴̰͝ ̶̨̑̉ò̵͎̩ũ̶͈͒ṯ̵̤͝!̵̢̤̓̕"

His captor blinked, shook his head as if to clear it, then his hands returned to either side of Nadeem's head. Nadeem was still sobbing, every inch of him trembling with the violent aftershocks of the burn.

“D̸͖̑i̸̡̛d̶̗͝ ̷̻̒y̸̨̚o̵̼͂ú̵͓ ̶̡͝g̵͉͐ȅ̷̯t̴̢̑ ̸̢͂î̸͈ť̴̗?̵͎͗"

"N̷̰̈́ó̵͜,̷̛͜ ̴̙̂I̴̟̋.̴͎̓.̵̙͗.̶̢͐I̶͖͝'̸̧͛m̴̨̈ ̸̢̍g̶͓͐ö̷̩́ǐ̷̙ñ̶͖ǵ̷̜ ̸͙͐t̴̮͘o̴̠͌ ̴̜͛h̶͙͂a̶̙̋v̵͎̾e̸̬͆ ̷̥͊t̸̺̊ŏ̵͕ ̶̳͌d̸͉̑o̴̝̍ ̶͙̀i̶̭͘t̴̲̃ ̸̘̋á̶̫g̸̈́͜a̵͔͝i̷̳̎n̴̤̄,̸̡̈́ ̴̧͒Ĩ̵͇ ̷̜́d̴͚̃i̶̥͛d̵̪͝ṅ̸̡'̶̪̂t̶̩͑ ̸̤͑ĝ̷ͅe̷̖̕ţ̶̇ ̴̭̈́ę̵͐n̵̡͠o̵̜͒ǔ̴̙g̵̪̎h̸̖͠ ̴̳͆o̸̭̿f̶͖͑ ̶̖̃t̴̟͊h̷̞̽ȇ̴̤ ̶͈̐ẘ̸̤o̵͔̾u̸̬͋n̶̳͘d̶̜̒.̸͎͝ ̸̗̄P̸̦͊u̴̖̽t̸͈͗ ̴͈͛t̴̲́h̶͎͝i̸͉͝s̴̮̑ ̶͈̽i̵̝̍n̸̳̋ ̷̧̒h̸͍̏i̴͉͛ṡ̶͓ ̵͑ͅm̸̮̓o̶̭̐u̸̠͘t̶͖̄h̵͓̐.”

He didn't even have words to express his horror when the ifrit pried his mouth open and forced a leather bit between his teeth. A clawed hand clasped firmly over his mouth, muffling the horrified sobs and pleading cries that poured out of him behind it.

The ifrit raised the iron again, and there was nothing Nadeem could do but stare up into his captor's eyes as it was pressed into his wound all over again.

Everything after that was a blur of darkness and rippling, uncontrollable agony. He came to as he was being carried across the deck, clinging to the big ifrit's smoke-drenched chest and weeping as they descended back into the cabin.

Furious shouts were being exchanged by what sounded like a dozen ifrit, their argument being cut off only when the deck hatch closed above them.

His keeper sat on the edge of the cot, cradling him in its arms.

"I̴̯̍ṯ̷̄'̸͓͛s̶͔͋ ̵͕͠o̴̝͘ṽ̴̤e̶̙͐r̵̺̐ ̵̦͒n̶̖̎ŏ̵̰w̸̛ͅ,̵̧̈́ ̸͓͐l̸̳̉í̶̭t̵͍͗t̵͇̏l̵͎̋e̷̅͜ ̵̢̎o̴̖͂n̶̛̝e̴͉̅.̶͈͐ ̷̪͌Ȉ̴̞t̶̳̉'̴͇̈́s̵̝̓ o̸̳̿ṿ̸͘ę̴̈r̸̹͋."

Nadeem's fingers were locked so tightly in the ifrit's sash that he couldn't figure out how to let go. He just buried his face against the fabric, trying to muffle the sound of his sobs now that he knew he couldn't stop. His jaw was chattering uncontrollably.

Its chest rumbled with its words as it spoke to him, those strange sounds that could almost been hushing.

A few minutes later the deck hatch opened again, and the white-turbaned ifrit descended into the small space. Nadeem sank further into his captor's arms, trying to get as far away as he could.

"Don't ccome any c-loser—" he choked out, his voice reedy and thin.

But there was none of the expected malice in the ifrit's features. Only indiscernible worry, and a glance toward his captor that Nadeem had no way of reading.

When he reached for Nadeem's injured foot he yanked it away so fast he nearly knocked the breath out of his own lungs, tucking it under himself to keep it away.

His captor wrapped another arm around him, hushing him before looking to the other ifrit. "Ĥ̸͓a̴̺͠b̷͓̀ỉ̶͇b̵̀ͅi̷̥̊,̷̤͌ ̵̦̚ ̸̭̓g̴͈̾ì̵̗v̶͚͑e̵͖̕ ̶̰͒h̷̠̊i̸̡͑m̷̟͑ ̵̣̂a̵͔̓ ̴̜͛m̶͚̽o̸̦͒m̸̻͛ĕ̴̬n̸͉̿ț̵̀."

Nadeem nearly crumbled with relief when the other ifrit hesitated, then backed away.

Hands continued running up and down his back as he tried to get his breathing under control, sobs still tearing out of him with every fresh wave of pain. Had part of the iron poker been left in his foot? It felt like it was still burning him, so much deeper inside his body than it could have possibly gone.

The weight of a blanket settled carefully over his shoulders, tucked close to him. His entire body was shivering violently from head to toe.

"Ḥ̵͋ȇ̶̳'̶̟̈́s̸̩͠ g̷̫͒o̵̺̎i̶̤͐n̸̻͌g̷͖̕ ̵̢͂u̵̫̅n̸̥̉d̴͈̑ḛ̷͝r̶̩̀,” the other ifrit murmured, scrubbing a hand down his face. "...ā̵̰ñ̴͔d̵͎̈́ ̶̮͂Ị̶̀ ̵̬͗ṫ̶̲h̵̲̋i̷̲̐n̴̛͎k̴͖̓ ̴͍̂Ȉ̶̲ ̶̗͠m̴̹̏i̶̥͋g̷̩̎h̷̲̍t̴̙̓ ̵̰̕b̴̻͋e̴̢͠,̷͎̆ ̷̳̄t̶̙̔ȯ̷̝ȍ̷͜.̴̱͆ ̷̭͌Ÿ̴̡́è̴̫e̸̻͗ẕ̸̿ŭ̷͎m̵̪̄o̶̳̅n̸̦͆,̸̟̌ ̴̱̚t̶̫͐h̶͕͗į̸̛š̴̡ ̶̩̀ḯ̸̙s̶̹̊n̷̼̏'̴̧̉t̴̳̓ ̴̯͗ș̷́a̸̚͜f̷̖̔e̶͚̓, w̴͖̐͛e̸͕͂̏ ̶̝͠h̸̲̀̐ä̴̮͘v̶̛͍̟̄e̸̯̦̒̆ ̸̖̋t̵͖́̅ó̸͚—"

"Ṅ̶͔o̶̡̾t̴̛̟ ̵̙̉n̴̰̈ó̸ͅw̶̯͘." Then, softer, "N̴̰̎o̵̰͌t̸̡͝ ̴̼̉n̸̗̍o̸͇̚w̶͖͑,̷̞̅ ̶͔͂h̸͕̿ä̴̹́b̷̬͗i̵̳͠b̷̭̀ỉ̶̭.̷͕̒ Ȉ̴̘ ̴͉̆ċ̷̗ã̷͚n̶͚̎'̷̠̀t̶̖̀…I̶͈̾ ̸̖͌c̸̛͈a̸̱͌ṉ̶̈'̴̞̉t̵̳́ ̴̲̌ľ̴̜e̷̮̾a̷̱̎v̷̜͋e̴̝̍ ̶͈͌i̶͔̍t̷̳̓ ̸̫̚ ̴͙̄l̷̈́͜i̸͇̇k̴̩̃e̶̻͊ ̷̖̍ṱ̷̃ẖ̶͝ȋ̸̢ş̸̊.̴͈͝."

It looked down where Nadeem had tucked his face against its chest, too sick with pain to care who or what he was clinging to.

"W̵̕ͅè̴̜'̷̮͝l̷̮̓l̵̦̈́ ̴̘̔f̵͙̋ḁ̷̉c̶̯̅e̴͍̋ ̴͝ͅĀ̵̻d̶͎̃r̸͎̎s̷̳̀i̶̛ͅa̵̡͂e̸͈͛ ̵͈̋ẉ̶̆h̷̩̒e̷̫͘n̶͚̾ ̷̫̉t̵̛̙h̸͇̀e̸̖̍ ̸͇̇t̵͚̚ì̷̜m̸̪̉ë̶͕́ ̸͇̀c̵̨͆ọ̴̉m̴͙̓ẻ̸̜s̷̹̕," he said, his body shifting against Nadeem's as he reached a hand out for the other ifrit's. "B̶̰̒u̵̙͗t̵̢͗ ̷̯͠n̶͖̕o̶̙̒t̷͍̃ ̸̘̔n̶͖̏ỏ̷̢ẁ̴͈."

The edges of reality had once more begun to blur. Dark, waking dreams spun through the shallows of his thoughts, pain spearing up through his foot as he limped out into the reeds.

Gods, he was losing it. But the water had to be safer than this.

He was still trembling a few minutes later when both ifrit coaxed his foot back out from underneath him. He had to bite back the whines of pain that pressed up his throat and against the back of his teeth, tears gathering uselessly in his eyes as he watched the ifrit turn his foot over and inspect it.

A moment before it began probing into the wound, a long hand clasped over his mouth. It was only just in time to suffocate the whine of pain that flooded out of him. The ifrit lifted a shallow bowl full of thick, white paste and began pressing the mixture into the wound. His nails dug into its skin, head going fuzzy and dark as black waves of agony rolled through his whole body. No matter how he struggled he couldn't pry his foot out of its grasp. He just sank down in its hands, while the big ifrit purred against his temple.

He'd never felt so hollow with exhaustion before in his life. He was still only one day past dying. Was this torture all that lay in store for him, now that he'd lost his chance to get away?

He wasn't going to survive. Not if this was what was waiting for him.

The ifrit was quick to bandage his foot, and then released him and let him once more hide his injury out of sight beneath his robes.

An uncaring part of his mind realized he'd sunk into the heat of its skin, eyes barely staying open as the adrenaline in his system crashed and whatever they had drugged him with took back over.

Ripples spread out around him at waist-height, opaque under the cold moonlight. The reeds stirred, wind caressing the nape of his neck.

He couldn't walk. There was no way he was getting away, even if he somehow got off the ship. He was helpless. He was stranded. The realization hit him like a sandstorm, dragging at his clothes and peppering his skin with pain.

They had burned him. He was alone. And he wasn't going to be able to get away.

The crickets sung in the reeds, nothing disturbing the water but him. All around him, for miles and miles, the dark spread silent and cold across the landscape.

He was alone.

He was alone.

He was never going to see his family again.

Nadeem fell to his knees, and plunged beneath the surface of the water.

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[silly-litttle-writer]

I have feelings about Aegon and since we’re all waiting for season two I’m gonna rant for a bit.

…

I’d like to talk about Alicent in the Green trailer saying something along the lines of “do you understand how much has been sacrificed to get you on the throne?” to Aegon and how low key manipulative that line is.

She knows Aegon doesn’t care about the throne but he does care about being burdensome to his family and that’s why the line most likely weighs heavily on him, we don’t quite know how he reacts from it but from the little bit in the trailer the line does affect him.

This is Aegon having to literally be dragged to his own coronation! This is Aegon trying to flee to Essos to avoid a war over the throne he doesn’t want or feel he is worthy of and ALICENT HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY THAT TO HIM?! HE DIDNT WANT THIS! HE ACTIVELY TRIED TO AVOID ALL OF IT BECAUSE HE HATED THE IDEA OF TAKING THE THRONE SO MUCH HE WAS WILLING TO GIVE UP BEING A PRINCE! HE DIDNT ASK FOR ANY OF IT AND YOU’RE GOING TO USE THAT TO EMOTIONALLY HURT HIM?! Like I’m grateful the show is showing that side of her cause that is book accurate Alicent but I hattttteeee how Aegon is treated in the show and by the fandom.

I hatttteee that certain characters are deemed sympathetic and oh no poor them (Viserys) while others are not graced with an ounce of sympathy or most importantly empathy (Aegon). Is Viserys entirely bad? No, I hate him but I do not believe he has no redeeming qualities. He loved Aemma and he unfortunately realized his greed for a son was less important far too late, after he killed his wife for a son, does he love Rhaenyra and (sometimes, it’s rare cause Viserys is a coward by nature) stand up for her? Yes, but he is far less sympathetic than CHILD (say whatever you want about adult Aegon but child Aegon deserves none of what he is given) Aegon in my mind I will take no criticism on that. Viserys actively created the toxic environment he is surrounded by, if he’s suffering it’s of his own making. Aegon was a child for a bit of this nonsense and had absolutely no control over what happened around him.

Aegon is the son VISERYS FORCED TO EXIST. He manipulated (softly which is why people like Viserys more than like Larys Strong for example) but he still MANIPULATED (show Alicent not book Alicent cause book Alicent is the one who seduces him and manipulates him) Alicent into marrying him at 15, forcing her to have his children as she can’t deny her husband AND THE LITERAL KING. He wanted a son so badly he carved his first wife up to try to save the son that was killing her, this failed and so he forced Alicent to give him that son and then ONCE AEGON IS NO LONGER CUTE OR EASY TO LOVE HE TOSSES HIM ASIDE. He becomes completely and utterly absent in Aegon’s life and that’s not even talking about how little he cares about Helaena, Aemond, or Daeron, Daeron who was literally shipped off to another part of the continent. He does not care for Aegon, he doesn’t guide him, does not instruct him and teach him the ways of the world. Instead Aegon is stuck with having to rely on Criston “I bash in people’s skulls cause I can’t control my anger and I can’t get over the girl I fucked ten years ago” Cole and Otto “I view women as literal incubators for sons” Hightower, alongside Alicent “I’m a hypocritical coward who will damn and literally terrorize any woman who tries to find a way to cheat the patriarchal society instead of using my power as Queen to make my children’s lives better than my own” Hightower. These same people teach and raise him. One, they teach him to not regulate or handle his emotions. Two, they frequently and repeatedly beat and verbally insult him for just saying I don’t want to challenge my sister for a throne that isn’t mine. Three, teaches him and enables the toxic and sexist mentality perpetrated by the society that they live in that women are things to use and abuse by men and that consent does not matter to him because he is not only a man but a prince and she has no real right to deny him.

Why do you think Aegon grows to be an abuser? Because he was never taught anything else. His bad behavior was enabled or even encouraged, with only slight punishment from the same woman who literally paid his victim hush money to not tell people that her son forced himself on her. She stands there telling the girl her son forced himself on that “I understand” and “It’s not your fault” and then LITERALLY PAYS HER HUSH MONEY TO SHUT UP ABOUT IT AND GIVES HER WESTEROSI BIRTH CONTROL! THEREFORE ENABLING AND ALLOWING THAT BEHAVIOR AND SHE ACTS LIKE SHE HAD NO PART TO PLAY IN WHY HER SON BECAME AN ABUSER!

He is exactly your son. He is the son you chose to raise. Aegon wasn’t born like this, YOU MADE HIM LIKE THIS AND THEN DESPISE AND CURSE HIM FOR IT. He never had a chance to be anything else, he was doomed from the start and that is why I empathize more with Aegon than Viserys. Do I feel bad that Aegon was slapped and called out for forcing himself on a girl? No, he should have been properly punished. He should have been punished for that kind of behavior a LONG time ago. But that’s exactly the problem, Alicent doesn’t punish him for this behavior and then gets upset when he continues doing it. You created the “monster” in front of you and then are shocked when he does monstrous things. You made your own bed and now you refuse to lie in it and instead choose to frequently and repeatedly abuse, terrorize, and antagonize those who refuse to participate (Rhaenyra) in the system that turned you into a victim and your son into an abuser.