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wildestdreamsblog · 2 months ago

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Latibule Season 2: Epilogue

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which it all ends

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: You know....I never find it hard to say goodbye to the characters I've written so far, until this. Latibule has such a hold on me. I'm both sad and at peace now that their story has come to an end. Thank you soooo much for staying with me til the end. I hope you know you loving this story change my life as an author <3

Masterlist, Latibule 2.VIII

Epilogue

Min Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi was someone who believed that no one could change his destiny but himself. He was someone who strongly believed that his will alone could change his fate.

No. Scratch that, he was someone who was hardly a believer of destiny.

He believed in himself.

He could change anything to his own gain, manipulate any situation that would best benefit him and remove anyone that he deemed to be a hindrance to his goals.

He firmly believed in all those things. So why then couldn’t he shake you off? Why then couldn’t he pull himself away from you when you were a glaring outlier in his world?

You were just one good Samaritan who saved the devil himself, unknowing that by doing so would change the trajectory of your life. Not knowing that by doing so would inevitably entangle your life so tightly with him.

Had you not saved him that night, he was certain he would have never known what it felt like to touch heaven.

Had you not shown him softness, he would have gone in his merry way as he destroyed everything that crossed his path.

You didn’t belong in his world. You were everything good, everything pure, that he never should have even dared to want. And yet, here he was—staying in a house filled with warmth he didn’t know he’d been missing, warmth he didn’t deserve. Yet, here he was, ingraining his own self to your life as though he had a place in it. Yet…here he was, pretending to be a good man for you.

If you didn’t belong with him, why then did he think of you as an angel to his evilness? Why then couldn’t he tear himself away from you?

Why then when Seokjin showed up in that place did he feel that crippling anxiety that you would leave him if you knew who he really was?

Why then did he feel panic like never before with the thought of you leaving him?

Why then did he choose to stay with you instead of returning to his world?

You were a conundrum to his plans. A riddle he couldn’t solve.

And yet, he couldn’t help but love you. He couldn’t help but consume you. He couldn’t help but give you every good left in him. He couldn’t help but tie you so tightly with him that leaving him would hurt the two of you. He couldn’t help but feel his heart thaw at every softness you showed him.

If you could love someone like him, then maybe…maybe he wasn’t a lost cause, right? Maybe he was still redeemable. Maybe, he too deserved to be happy.

But then, destiny that he didn’t believe in deemed it necessary to snatch you away from his grasp. Fate made him suffer, reminding him that he was powerless despite how strong he thought himself to be. Providence ripped you away from his grasp.

He ridiculously thought of himself as invincible, as someone who was too powerful to even think that all the things he did in the past would eventually come for him.

All evidence pointed out that you were gone in this world, that you went somewhere he couldn’t follow. Those things meant nothing to him. He thoroughly believed that he would feel it in his fucking heart if you were truly gone. But that bastardly thing kept on beating. If your heart stopped beating, shouldn’t his have, too? However, despite his unwavering belief that he would find you again, the silence of your absence was more deafening than he ever could have imagined.

When he found you again, he couldn’t understand how he could feel such a mixture of relief and sorrow. The sight of you—broken, lost in a way he hadn’t prepared for—shattered something deep inside him. He hadn’t seen the signs. He failed to see the signs that he, himself, should have been the first to see. The signs of your failing eyesight, the small, subtle shifts in your behavior, the way you had been fading without him even noticing. It was in the way you looked at the stars each night without fail as though you were committing them to memory. It was in the way you looked at him each night and gently touch his face when you thought he was asleep.

The truth that you’d suffered alone, that you must have felt powerless as your vision dimmed over the years, was a weight he wasn’t ready to carry.

The truth that you had gone all through that, all while giving birth to his son and raising him alone was unimaginable. You went through all that while under Hoseok’s manipulation.

He could fix this, he told himself. Regardless of the situation, he would give you back your sight because you gave him peace.

But then he realized you had given him more than just love, more than just peace—you had given him something he never thought possible: a family of his own. And in that moment, he swore to himself that he would give you everything, as long as you stayed by his side.

He could feel it now—he was finally grasping everything he’d ever wanted, so close he could almost touch it.

But then, the darkness of his past caught up with him. Was this what they called karma? Was this fate’s cruel way of showing him that the water was always within reach, but he could never quite quench his thirst?

He had just gotten you back, and now, he was losing you again.

But, as he always believed, Min Yoongi was someone who never lost to fate, more so now that he knew he had a family of his on to protect.

You didn’t know what woke you up from your deep slumber.

Was it your body telling you that you needed to get up because someone desperately needed you?

Was it the voices floating around urging you to open your eyes?

Was it the heavy pain in your heart that was begging you to stay alive, that it wasn’t your time yet?

Or was it the sound of someone reprimanding another on the noise?

“Sir! I told you repeatedly – repeatedly, that this is a hospital room and not your house! You cannot play video games so loudly at this hour! And you! A patient is resting! Stop watching a movie beside him! I swear to God, I am going to kick your asses out of this hospital!”

You could almost picture the nurse’s hands on her hips, her voice firm and commanding, taking no nonsense from anyone, even in a place like this.

“Ajumma, I got you your favorite coffee. Are you really going to kick me out?”

The playful, teasing voice cut through the tension, and you could hear the pout in Jimin’s voice. You had to smile, even if you didn’t quite understand what he was doing here. Jimin’s voice, so light and innocent, was in sharp contrast to the life he led outside these sterile walls. The weight of the world was never as evident as it was when his lips curved into that angelic smile, the one that somehow always seemed to mask the storm raging underneath.

Slowly, you opened your heavy eyes, the light blinding you for a moment. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the brightness around you. The air was thick, heavy with what smelled like antiseptic, and there was a pounding ache in your head. You tried to shift but the pain in your arm reminded you that something had happened. Your body felt foreign, as if you were waking up from a long, deep sleep, the kind that made you forget who you were, forget where you were, and most importantly—forget how you had ended up here.

But then, the memories came rushing back like a flood.

The attack.

The gunfire.

The blood.

The screeching tires as Hoseok fought with everything he had to protect the two of you. The chaos. The fear. The moment when you thought your life was about to slip through your fingers like sand, and worse, that your son would be left alone in this world.

“Of course, not you! You’re an angel!” The nurse’s voice softened, and you could almost hear her smile, though you couldn’t quite see her yet. “I’m talking about these two!”

“But nurse, aren’t you the one being loud now? You woke noona up,” Taehyung offhandedly commented as he watched you nonchalantly with his dark eyes. He was seated beside a second hospital bed identical to yours. Your limited vision hindered you from seeing a man lying there that had several apparatuses attached to his pale skin, his breathing deep and even as he slumbered.

You frowned, the realization was slow but sure.

You were alive.

“J-Ji-Jiwon,” you called out weakly, your throat dried. It did feel like you had been out for weeks, if not months. You didn’t know. And not knowing was making you panic. You tried sitting up, but your muscles were aching and were weak from non-usage. The sound emitted from the heart monitor was rapid, prompting the nurse to call for a doctor all while the Jungkook and Jimin attempted to calm you down.

“Noona, you have to calm down. You’ve been in a coma for more than a month–”

You met Jimin’s eyes, reaching for his hand. The tears in your eyes further impaired vision. “Jiwon?” you asked in a shaking voice and it was barely a whisper. You needed to know that he was safe. You needed to know that he was not suffering. You could not live with yourself if you survived, and he did not. The mere thought was simply too much to bear.

He squeezed your hand once, “He’s okay, noona. Namjoon and his family are taking care of him right now.”

“Really?” you asked despite the tears falling down your face. “He’s okay? He’s not hurt, right?”

He smiled at you. “Jiwon is okay. You and Hoseok protected him. In fact, he’s taken a liking at Namjoon’s son. You should see the headache Namjoon’s gotten from the shenanigans of those two. They are inseparable, noona,” Jimin replied in a soft voice. What he said to you was enough to calm you down for now. He was okay.

Your son was okay.

“Ah, my patient is awake,” Kim Seokjin remarked dryly, but even as he did so there was as brief signs of relief and fondness in his eyes before they were washed away by his easygoing demeanor. “I will give you a customer loyalty card as soon as I discharge you. You, Yoongi’s angel, are always here,”

“You probably know the drill by now, let’s see your chart,” he stood beside your bed as he read your chart from his tablet, making a humming noise before tapping his finger on the screen twice. His finger tapped the screen twice, his gaze flickering between you and the notes. “Right, everything looks good. But you still have to undergo several tests before I can clear you. You’ve been asleep for awhile. Now, let’s see,” he stated before he gestured to the nurses behind him for something. “Okay, Y/N, I’m going to remove your bandage now.”

What bandage?

Slowly and with precise movements, Kim Seokjin carefully began to unwrap the gauze from around your left eye, the soft rustling of the material making you feel more aware of the vulnerability of the moment. It felt like a strange shift in time—like everything before this, everything that had happened to you, was suspended. You couldn’t recall when the bandage had been put on, or why it was there in the first place. You flinched slightly as the air touched the sensitive skin.

“You’re healing well,” he remarked as he instructed you to follow the light emitting from his pen. “The eye is reacting better than I could have hoped for. For now, your body is not rejecting the transplant, let’s just hope that it fully accepts the transplant. Your eyesight will be blurry for a few months until it eventually gets better.”

You blinked and shifted away from him. You were so panicked since you woke up that you barely noted anything about your well-being.

“What… what transplant?” Your voice came out breathless, too weak to hold the tremor. The world around you felt unsteady, and nothing made sense. Your mind was still grasping at fragments, trying to piece them together.

“That crazy bastard gave you one of his eyes,” Seokjin replied with a tilt of his chin to the second bed in the room. Jimin and Jungkook stepped away to reveal Min Yoongi. He was asleep, just like you had been moments ago. He had a bandage on his right eye, the side that didn’t have the scar.

Seokjin imparted that the car crash had accelerated the deterioration of your sight. You ran out of time. He finally revealed that before the chaos even began, Yoongi spoke to him. Should everything else fails, your well-being should be prioritized instead of him. He said that he would give you everything, even his sight, because you gave him his dreams. You gave him a family.

Jungkook assisted you when you moved to him. He held your arm gently as you walked step by step to your husband and sat down on the chair that Taehyung vacated. The sterile smell of the hospital room was suffocating, but the only thing you could focus on was the man lying motionless before you.

“My love? My Suga…” you called for him, lifting his uninjured hand to your cheeks. The coolness of his skin sent a shiver down your spine, but it was the wetness of your tears that dampened his pale flesh. “My husband, please wake up. I’m waiting for you. J-Jiwon is waiting for his father. We’re all waiting for you.”

Everyday since you were discharged, you visited him. Oftentimes with Jiwon, but on some days when you felt the weight of the situation, you went alone. After the attack, News outlets flooded the scene, broadcasting every grim detail of what had happened to South Korea’s beloved chief of police. Everyone in the country knew of what happened. All the underhanded, illegal dealings of the politician fully came to light with the help of Jungkook and Namjoon’s skills.

But even more carefully orchestrated was the way the Bangtan dealt with the situation. They had planted false evidence, skillfully shifting the blame onto the senator and wiping out any trace of the Bangtan organization. With the downfall and death of the senator, the existence of the Bangtan appeared to cease. The underworld, however, wasn’t fooled. They knew better than to challenge the family that had long since ruled the shadows. The Bangtan were ruthless, and they would always come out on top.

It was a month later when Yoongi finally woke up.

You were tightly clasping his hand. You had just finished gently wiping him down. Your head was bowed down on his side, quietly crying and begging him to wake up. At this point, you felt like you were asking for a miracle. Seokjin said that Yoongi’s chart indicated that he was healing well and to surmise, there were no reasons for him to not wake up. You were feeling the most helpless when you felt a movement. It was subtle at first, a slight twitch in his hand. You held your breath, unsure if you had imagined it. Then, another. A movement. His fingers shifted, just enough to catch your attention.

Your heart stopped. You pulled your head up from his side, eyes wide in disbelief. You stared at his face—his pale features, still so familiar—and waited, holding your breath.

“Suga?”

You calling him seemed to be enough. He opened his eyes. For a moment, his gaze was unfocused, his expression distant, like he was still fighting the heaviness of sleep. But then his eyes locked with yours, and in that instant, the whole world shifted. It was then and there when you noted how his eye, the scarred one, was the only one that reacted.

“Oh my God,” you stammered, your hands shaking as you reached his face. “You came back to me.”

He blinked slowly, his lips parting as if he was trying to find the strength to speak. For a moment, there was just silence between you, his eyes searching yours, as if he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the moment. Then, his lips quirked slightly, just enough to show he was trying to smile.

“I’m sorry… for making you wait,” he rasped, his voice rough and weak but undeniably Yoongi’s.

You chuckled despite the tears flowing down your face as you gazed at him, as you gazed at the man who had your heart from the very beginning. You looked at the man who selflessly gave a part of himself to you, his other eye unseeing, his scarred one looking at you with brimming love. “It's okay,” you breathed out, your tears falling again, but this time, they were tears of joy. “It’s fine…you know I can wait forever for you.”

Your wedding was intimate. The date had come full circle—the same day, the same month, the same season, as when you first met him. It felt like fate had orchestrated this moment with a tenderness you never thought you deserved. You never once thought that you could be as happy and as peace as you were now. His brothers were there to witness your love: Namjoon, his secretary and her child, Taehyung, Jungkook, Jimin, and Seokjin. Looking around, you knew that weren’t going to be alone anymore.

You had a family.

Your son would never be alone.

When it came to it, Yoongi’s vow was simple: He vowed to always choose you. More so, he vowed to find you in each and every life after this, to love you just as much, if not more, to always be there to protect and take care of you.

You vowed to love him just as he was, and for him, that was more than enough.

The end

Extended epilogue:

No one would tell you anything whenever you asked about Hoseok.

You never saw him in the hospital. In fact, you never saw him since that night. You couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him. You didn’t even want to think about the possibility that he didn’t make it. After all, he used his body to protect you and your son.

That night, you thought that Hoseok looked lost, that he regarded his life as nothing.

You still wondered why he did it. You still wondered why he saved you.

Despite the heroic act that he did, no one would utter his name. It was as if he simply vanished from this earth. But perhaps, Yoongi finally had enough of you asking for another man that he finally answered.

“Angel, don’t worry about him. He’s in a better place now.”

His answer only left you more questions.

Hundred kilometers away from Seoul –

A persistent knock on the door woke you from your sleep. You struggled to open your eyes as you had just fallen asleep not two hours ago. For heaven’s sake, you thought, you had barely completed one REM of sleep cycle!

But the insistent knocking from someone clearly impatient was enough to chase the drowsiness away.

You wanted to ignore it, truly, you did. But what if it was an emergency? What if it was one of the less fortunate that badly needed something? What if it was the other nuns?

You stood up and wore your conservative robe. You turned on your lamp, the small lamp brought light to your equally small room. You unlatched the lock, danger far from your mind. After all, this was the province – the farthest from the city. Secondly, the area the church was in was quite secluded, and the only people here were the nuns and the orphaned children. This was not like your life before. Here, you could go out and be assured that no one meant you harm.

At least, that was what you thought.

How wrong you were and you soon found out the intensity of your mistake.

Carelessly, you opened the door only to find your nightmare brought to life.

Min Yoongi aka Lucifer himself aka Agustd.

Also known as one of your adopted brothers.

“Miss me, little sister?”

Jung Hoseok: Full prologue on KoFi

#bts fanfic #bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x y/n #yandere min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts mafia au

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tawked · 1 month ago

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I know we're all real big "read the comics" fans here but, considering the show is now 32 years old and many people in the Batman fandom might not know about it -

if you do not want to read the comics, might I recommend the massively acclaimed Batman animated series from the 90s instead?

Seriously, room-temperature take: it's better than what was going on in the comics at the time.

DCAU Batman: kind, empathetic but still troubled and a little self-centered at times. He understands even scary dangerous mentally ill people are not beyond help and that what they really need is support and care. He actively tries to resolve every conflict with a minimal of violence and brutality, with stories often focusing on detective work in a pulpy noir atmosphere, or the clever use of a tactic relevant to a bad man's gimmick. Every character is consistent and has a clear, coherent vision. There is exactly one profoundly stupid retcon and it's in an extremely skippable bottle episode of another show (Justice League Unlimited, and the retcon relates to Batman Beyond, the Wise Man's Favourite Batman). Respects women (here to take back the night, for her). Loves his gay sons and daughter. Does not turn his car into a murder tank to shoot people with.

90s comics Batman: violent asshole who is mean to everybody because idk Denny O'Neil thinks that's what autism or PTSD or whatever is. Makes absurdly stupid fucking decisions that later need to be retconned into making sense and even then they rely on everybody else being an inconsistent nonsense character. Launches into monologues about how it'd be super easy if he could just kill people, especially those incurable freak scoundrels at the crazy people prison more often than you would think. Truly horribly mean to women (Huntress and Spoiler especially) in a way that is simply beyond the norm of the genre at the time. Relentlessly weird and abusive in "my dad never hugged me" ways toward his ever-growing collection of sometimes dead children. Constantly turning his car into a murder tank to shoot people with.

This show is not an adaptation of the comics (though some individual issues are adapted or reworked), but if you just specify you're writing about or discussing DCAU Batman, people are pretty chill and in my experience will actively tell you about specific issues or TPBs that relate to the show. Other than that, it's just an extremely solid, accessible version of Batman, and the version of the character most people remember / care about when they criticize mean asshole comic book Batman for being "out of character" (even though comic book Batman has kinda sorta been that way since Crisis).

The same is basically true of Superman. His DCAU series has less of a reputation but is honestly crazy underrated. Best version of Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen.

The Justice League cartoon, a sequel to both series, will also introduce you to a bunch of mainstay DC characters, albeit usually pretty far-removed from their own stories and exclusively in a team context. The only major outliers are The Question, Wonder Woman (kinda) and Martian Manhunter, who were basically 100% rewritten for the show. Even then if you just specify you mean the DCAU versions of these characters people will get it, the shows used to be more popular than the comics in the 90s.

This will also sneakily onboard you to the Zeta Project and you will learn, albeit indirectly, who the most insufferable kids in like 2002 were. Seriously, I sound insane telling children this now, but Ro's design was like... the rosetta stone for shit Deviantart anime OCs for a whole five years or so.

The watching order I'd recommend is:

Batman: Mask of the Phantasm.

Batman: The Animated Series.

Superman: The Animated Series.

Batman & Mr. Freeze: SubZero.

The New Batman Adventures.

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman.

Justice League.

Justice League Unlimited.

Batman Beyond.

Batman: Return of the Joker (the only Tim Drake story I like lol).

The Zeta Project (severely optional).

I'd place Static Shock somewhere before Justice League Unlimited, personally, but you can move that one around as you please. There's some jank to it because it wasn't originally going to be part of the DCAU, but then come season two they started incorporating little crossovers and nods.

Batman & Harley Quinn and Justice League vs. the Furious Five are also in continuity but I pretend I do not see the Harley Quinn farts in the batmobile and fucks Nightwing movie, and have not actually seen the Furious Five movie.

Easy, simple, no fuss no muss. Batman is the only character to appear in every single show (albeit not every episode, obviously), so he serves as kind of a connecting throughline for the "Timmverse."

A lot of these shows are on Netflix and I mean, y'know, just pirate them, it's not like Warner Bros. needs more money lol.

Other recommendations:

Super Friends - no bullshit. It's aged pretty horribly, especially the animation, but I kid you not, this show genuinely captures what golden age superhero stories and especially Batman feels like. Not at all remotely character-driven (but neither were 90% of the comics), instead centered 100% around very badly animated action. I fucking love it. It will teach you how the idea of Batman worked before he was Gotham's dark moody emo prince. I don't recommend watching all of Super Friends, there is a lot of it, but there's value in just blasting through a couple eps. The benefit here is that they tinker with the format and line-up every season so if you do find yourself enjoying that 1970s American cartoon style of storytelling, they do keep it kind of fresh.

The Batman - that is, the 2004 series. Hated on arrival for not being more Timmverse DCAU stuff. Some of the most creative direction in villain and action design the franchise has ever had, but like, everybody in this show is a kung fu fighter when that is extremely not the case in the comics lol. Will demonstrate Batman as a pulp scifi detective, and how his stories can work when he's an isolated character. Plays hard into the idea of empathy for some villains, and provides most villains with pretty human motives. Downplays Batman as mentally ill and makes his Bruce Wayne persona, uh... more "relatable" to kids in the mid-2000s lol. Doesn't really supplement comic book canon but if you want to see how concepts can be stretched and adapted for fanfiction purposes, this is an invaluable show.

Batman - The Brave & The Bold. Captures the vibe of the wider DC universe during the 1950s - 1970s, with a lot of fun modern characters reworked into a silver age vibe and aesthetic. Very lighthearted and silly, but feels like if Gardner Fox were around today he'd fuck with it hard. Not a replacement for comics that people actually read and discuss in the tumblr fandom, but will introduce you to a range of characters, some of whom are actually pretty obscure, in an extremely digestible format. Has a bad, Teen Titans Go esque habit of responding to reddit fan criticisms in the Bat-Mite episodes, but those are paradoxically some of the most solid shit in the show.

#comics #dc comics #dc #batman #superman #justice league #dcau #timmverse

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odinsblog · 30 days ago

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Crows are able to look at a handful of four-sided shapes and correctly distinguish those that exhibit geometric regularity from those that don't, according to a provocative new study.

It's the first time a species other than humans has been shown to have this kind of geometric intuition, says Andreas Nieder, a cognitive neurobiologist at the University of Tübingen in Germany.

"Claiming that it is specific to us humans, that only humans can detect geometric regularity, is now falsified," says Nieder. "Because we have at least the crow."

Previous research has demonstrated that regardless of age, culture, or education, humans are really good at noticing geometric regularity in shapes.

Other critters might have an inherent sense of geometry, too, says Nieder, but until now, researchers mostly haven't focused on this ability in their tests of animals' mathematical skills.

"I would never dare to say that this is the only species," he says, "it's just now opening this field of investigation."

He and his colleagues tested the abilities of two carrion crows that live in their lab. Previously, Nieder's group has shown that the crows' counting ability rivals that of toddlers.

These crows "are very tame, so they like to work with us," he says.

The birds' work involves basically playing computer games that are designed to tease out how much they know about math.

For this study, the birds would look at a computer screen and see a group of six shapes. To get a treat of tasty mealworms, they'd have to peck on the shape that was different from the others.

"Initially we presented some very obviously different figures," says Nieder. "For instance, five moons and one flower."

When the crows pecked on the flower shape, they got a snack.

After the birds understood this game, the researchers started showing them sets of shapes that included squares, parallelograms, or irregular quadrilaterals.

The crows might see, for example, five perfect squares along with one four-sided figure that was just slightly off.

What the researchers wanted to know is whether or not "with these quadrilaterals, they could still continue to find the outlier, even though the outlier was looking perceptually very similar to the other five regular shapes," explains Nieder.

Yes. It turns out, the crows could.

In the journal Science Advances, the researchers describe a series of tests showing that crows clearly had a sense of right angles, parallel lines, and symmetry.

(continue reading)

#interesting #birds #crows #geometry #animal intelligence #the maths #counting crows

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frownyalfred · 1 year ago

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You ever think about how often Bruce goes to introduce a vigilante/anti-hero/ex or current villain to the League and ends up revealing too much about his taste in partners?

Like, he's got a type. And it's incredibly obvious. (And then there's Superman, but he's the outlier)

It’s not even that he’s got a type. THEY all have a type. They’re obsessed with him. And one of my favorite micro tropes to read is when people would kill/want to kill/subjugate/rule empires with Bruce but everyone in the League just knows him as the stiff, formal leader who doesn’t let them skip the mission debriefs?

Ra’s: Batman is the World’s Greatest Detective. I will have him at our side. There is no other who can match him.

Hal Jordan, scratching the back of his head: well he’s okay at making coffee I guess…

#asks #anon #bruce wayne #batman #dc #ras al ghul

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lu-is-not-ok · 11 months ago

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*rises from the grave*

*trips and falls flat on my face*

Heyyyy, it's ya boy, your favorite chronically exhausted Hong Lu identity that forgor about posting to Tumblr. Hi. Hello.

So. Timekilling Time, huh? Very fun, very exciting, we love focusing on Sinners that are misunderstood both in and out of character. We love Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu focus. We love Ryoshu's butch mustache swag.

Anyway, allow me yap about it a bit, because I took frame by frame screenshots of the teaser and I haven't yapped on Tumblr in a while. I'll also give a general update on how I've been doing at the end of the post for those who are interested.

The first thing I've noticed in the teaser is Dante actually lays out the exact traits that their choice of Sinners would need. These being (exact wording):

Someone who can support Dante

Someone who can remain laser-focused on the case

Someone who can be free from biased judgement while making rational, quick spur-of-the-moment decisions

In other words, we need Sinners who will help Dante out, are able to stay focused, and who can think on their feet without relying on their own internal biases.

I think it's important to lay those out as clearly as possible, because it makes the selections made by Dante and Verg very interesting, and also kind of funny.

Let's look at Dante's picks - Yi Sang, Meursault, and Faust. These are all, at a surface level, decent general picks, as all three of them are seen as smart and rational. However, if we look at them while keeping the previously mentioned traits in mind, it turns out these three might just be some of the worst picks Dante could ever fucking make.

The biggest issue - none of these bitches can think quickly. Faust is especially notorious for this, as it's consistently pointed out how she always needs a long time to come to a conclusion or otherwise has to pause to come up with answers. We also know Yi Sang is the type of person to get lost in his thoughts and just meander instead of getting to the point. Meursault is a bit of an outlier in that we see that he can think quickly, but if he's not given any orders he's never gonna act on those thoughts. Admittedly, he has been getting better at speaking up over time, but he's still mostly in this "only does what he's told to do" mode of operations.

This is where their issues split up a little bit.

Yi Sang is probably the most likely to be supportive of Dante out of the three - we see that he cares about others and has learned to interfere and give advice when he feels it's necessary (though who knows if he's doing well enough to keep that up after Canto 6, oof). No, rather his other issue lies in the focus department. This is the guy who, as I previously mentioned, meanders all over before getting to the point. Again, like Meursault, he has been getting better at not doing that, but he's still got ways to go.

Faust and Meursault on the other hand have the opposite issue. While they're fairly goot at staying focused on what they have to do, the issue is that they never fucking speak up. They're probbably the furthest from being supportive of Dante. They're most likely to learn info and just keep it to themselves until everyone has wasted way too much fucking time. Hell, Meursault would probably make a decently good detective if allowed to do the case all on his own, but since he's meant to be a part of a group, he's unlikely to help out that much without Dante directly ordering him around.

Now, onto Verg's picks - Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu. This is where things get really, really interesting. Because we have the reverse situation to Dante's picks - on the surface the choices seem random and counter-intuitive, but if we look deeper, it turns out they all fulfill the requirements surprisingly well.

I'm about to go on a tangent here, but I find it extremely important that we're focusing on this group of Sinners in the first Intervallo between what I consider to be the most thematically different arcs within Limbus. The first half of Inferno has been pretty squarely about confronting one's past, whether learning to face it properly after running away from it (Gregor, Rodya, Sinclair), or learning to move past it after refusing to let go of it (Yi Sang, Ishmael, Heathcliff).

However, looking at the Sinners we have left, it feels like the second half of Inferno might be focused less on the past specifically, but more about the Sinners' general reality. Especially the next upcoming trio of Cantos - Don Quixote, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu - have some heavy thematic focus on the idea of one's perception of reality, especially fitting for the three Sinners with weird eye shit going on.

With Timekilling Time focusing on the Sinners most misinterpreted by others in-character (and out of character), it feels like the perfect intro to this switch in thematic focus - exploring the actual realities of people who are otherwise hard to understand.

Anyway, back to discussing how Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu fit Dante's requirements.

Supportive of Dante - this is the requirement all three fulfill pretty well. Let me explain.

Rodya is probably the most obvious - she's a hypegirl through and through, and happy to take the reigns in some way or another if nobody else is able to, as we see in Canto 2. She's often one of the first people to point out when someone is not doing well, and shares a lot of her insight if in the mood, but she also knows when discretion is necessary.

Hong Lu is a fun one here - he's extremely perceptive and insightful, often sharing his thoughts with very little prompting. His only issue is that he tends to backpedal when he feels like he said something wrong, or generally just words shit in weird slightly offensive ways. He's supportive, he just doesn't always talk like he is.

Ryoshu is one I find most interesting here, as a lot of people seem to miss this about her character - despite her short temper and peculiar manner of carrying herself, she's actually pretty understanding and helpful towards people she's on amicable terms with. She always explains her acronyms if asked (and when she doesn't it's usually because people stop asking or Sinclair translates instead), she listens when told to stand down or otherwise do something when asked of by Dante or Sinclair, and the reason she tends to stay quiet is because she only speaks when she feels what she has to say is important.

Staying focused - this one is a bit harder to judge, but I'd say the only one who might not fulfill this one is Hong Lu, but only by a margin. Ryoshu is shown to get so focused she gets impatient when she can't get to the point, and Rodya always has her goal in mind even when she might act like she doesn't. Hong Lu is a bit harder to judge, as he seems to be the type to prioritze gathering information and satiating his curiostiy over the main goal, but in a case like this that might just be a massive plus.

Unbiased quick thinking - again, all three fulfill the quick thinking part very well. Rodya shows it constantly throughout Canto 2, Hong Lu shows it best in social interactions, and Ryoshu just doesn't want to waste time and so she naturally thinks quickly as well. It's when we come to the unbiased part that things get extremely interesting.

As individuals, Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu are all very biased people. Rodya sees the world from the perspective of someone who suffered in the poor Backstreets. Hong Lu sees the world from the perspective of a rich Nest dweller coming from a family of dubious morality. Ryoshu sees the world from the perspective of (probably) an ex-Ring member obsessed with the art that is reality. Their backgrounds color the information they take in a lot.

However... this means that as a group, all three balance each other's biases out. Rodya's cynicism gets balanced out by Hong Lu's idealism, which is balanced by Ryoshu's realism. Their backgrounds couldn't be more different, and thus give the widest possible perspective when put together.

I think this is the point Verg is making with this selection. Dante's selection is the easy way out. It's people that Dante already knows how to deal with, and would rather pick even if their skillsets don't fit the situation. Verg is making Dante learn how to work with Sinners who might be harder to deal with, but have skillsets more fitting for the situation at hand.

Dante can't keep half-assing everything by always turning to the same few people. Every Sinner in the group has their use and are smart in their own unique ways. They have to figure what every Sinner's strong point is, otherwise they'll end up putting everyone in danger by relying on people who are simply not good in a situation while ignoring those who could help.

So... that's what I think.

Anyway, personal general update - I'm still alive! And also very swamped with college and constant exhaustion. So, things will have to change a bit moving forward.

Number one - I will not be returning to old analysis requests. There's too many at this point, and I just don't have the time to sit down and write longass posts whenever I want anymore. However, that isn't to say E.G.O and Sin analyses will never return! I have plaaans for what I want to do with those moving forward, it just may take some time to materialize.

Number two - I'm generally just more active on Discord than on Tumblr. Yapping on Discord feels more natural for me, as it's just... less formal than making a full post I guess. So, if you want to discuss things with me, or if you're on a server that you think would do well with having me yapping in there, feel free to shoot me an invite link in replies (or in DMs if you don't want it to be public)!

Number three - Go check out the Absolute Pride Resonance event on Youtube! I'm not a part of it maybe next time wink wink nudge nudge, but you should still check it out cause it's a bunch of cool people doing very scuffed streams, as is fitting for the scuff Project Moon is known for.

Alright, that's it. I still don't know how to end Tumblr Posts. Bye.

#lu speaketh #limbus company #lcb spoilers #intervallo 6.5a #timekilling time intervallo #we're back baby #rodion lcb #hong lu lcb #ryoshu lcb #fun fact i'm up to 1.1k hours on limbus #god help me

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tsuiioku · 11 months ago

Text

over the city, the high moon lay — from eden

content. f!reader. kidnapping, canon compliant, mutual pining, enemies and lovers, explicit language, canon-typical violence, murder, and references to suicide. not proofread. 6.2k+ words. ⟶ features fyodor dostoevsky.

would you like to see more from this series? fill out the taglist.

Dust twirled and twisted in the air, sparkling in the shine of a sunset that threatened to bleach essential documents with its powerful rays. People restlessly muttered to themselves, filling in the quiet as they tried to finish their last bits of work so they could retire into their nightly routines. There were the outliers, of course. Dazai hardly ever touched paperwork when asked and leaned back in his chair without a care in the world. Ranpo was always in a similar state, though he took the time to devour a new lollipop every couple of minutes, having been gifted a couple of bagfuls courtesy of Minoura and his subordinates.

"We're back!" you exclaimed, propping the office door open with your hip as you adjusted a flimsy tray of caffeinated drinks in your arms, letting Atsushi in with the rest of them. Everyone perked up as if they were rescued from peril, most wandering over in the hopes of snatching theirs before returning to their excruciating endeavors.

You craned your head back towards your newest recruit. "Could you set those down in there?"

"Sure," Atsushi replied, distracted as he labored to balance his tray onto the table without spilling anything. In the end, he relented and decided to remove each individual drink and set them down. You tried not to make fun of his relieved expression—he was probably traumatized from the time he had spilled them all. Despite reassurances from most people that it was okay, everyone had been in a cranky mood for the rest of that day, so you decided to assist him with the task ever since.

While Atsushi deliberated with his task, you decided to deliver drinks to those who had chosen not to leave their work. "One espresso for Kunikida." The man merely waved in thanks with his non-dominant hand, too engrossed in drafting an incident report. "And one abomination for Dazai." The suicide enthusiast scoffed as he snatched the drink from your hands, cradling it like it was his malformed baby. It was a miracle he didn't burn his hands.

"I'll have you know that this is the secret concoction for my beauty."

"Certain it's not another suicide attempt?" And despite his concentration, Kunikida always had time to comment on his partner's less-than-stellar preferences, especially when they always seemed to find a way to obstruct his work.

"Even if it's not one," you covered your nose as a rancid smell started to waft from the cup, "the smell alone makes me want to jump."

"I'm wounded!"

You left Kunikida to handle Dazai, knowing he was likely seconds away from throttling him, and your hands cramped as you balanced not only a drink but a collection of pastries sent from the café manager's wife herself. The drink wasn't much better than Dazai's, though it luckily didn't have a distinct smell. It was just the massive amounts of sugar that made you nauseous as you tried not to imagine the taste of such a sweet drink.

How the master detective didn't have any cavities was beyond you.

"Only the finest drink for the world's greatest detective," you said, amused as you settled it down in front of him. He remained stretched back, legs propped over the desk as he swung them back and forth.

Without an ability, you were often chained to office work—but it was no secret that you thrived out on the field, regardless of whether you had an ability or not. You became the unspoken assistant to Ranpo whenever he was needed outside of the office, functioning as both an equal and interpreter for his blunt and childlike mannerisms. It had created a kinship between you both as the only two "ability-less" agents allowed to solve cases by themselves.

"It's about time," he groaned.

But that didn't stop him from having an attitude with you or anyone else.

"Glad you didn't forget the creamer—unlike someone here."

Ranpo and the resident weretiger locked eyes, with the latter returning the gaze with an unamused glare. There was another unspoken fact about the staff at the Agency—Ranpo was notorious for taunting new recruits, especially ones as reactive as Atsushi. In fact, Kunikida's first months had to have been your favorite time. Despite his inherent respect for his senior, even he had a difficult time and questioned the methods and attitude of the super-deduction genius, but like everyone else, he learned Ranpo was simply that way.

"(Name)-san!" your train of thought was broken, spinning on your heel to meet the brunette woman calling your name, pausing as she pointed at her computer screen. "Can you take a look at this for me?"

She shrunk back from the stern tilt of your head. "You're not asking me to do it for you again, are you?" Her reaction told you everything you needed to know; scrunching back in her seat as sweat started to drip from her forehead. "I told you I can't do your work for you anymore. It's not my fault you're too busy obsessing over your cat."

She fiddled with her thumbs like a scorned child. You sighed. "Fine, I'll check it, but nothing more! Capeesh?"

Her relief sprung forth like a rushing waterfall, uttering 'thank you's' and 'I owe you one's'—as if she ever returned the favor. You rolled your chair beside her, scanning over the documents on her screen, which consisted primarily of the office's activities and expenditures from the past two weeks. From the ambush by the Black Lizard to the serial disappearances of travelers, both the minds and pockets of the staff had run rampant without constraint.

"These dates need to match with the ones on these papers, not those. You've also swapped two of the addresses," you said, pointing to them on the screen, "here and here."

She groaned, throwing her head back as she massaged the corners of her screen-strained eyes. "Thank you. I'd have my head on backward if you weren't here."

You elbowed her, offering her a comforting but cheeky smile. "That's what I'm here for."

RING! RING!

You picked up the phone as you shooed Haruno back to her work. These phones sucked, the speaker crackling to life with the ambient sounds of static. Most of them had been donated or were bought used, obviously on their last life. It made the constant back-and-forth with clients a guaranteed path to a headache, but there wasn't much else you could do about it. Despite the government's proclamations that the agency was a well-regarded and heroic organization worthy of praise, they rarely invested their resources so that it could flourish to its truest potential—that wasn't a surprise, given how Yokohama's Special Division treated abilities that weren't under its thumb.

"You've reached the Armed Detective Agency—this is Kurihara (Name) speaking. How can I help you?"

The voice on the other end of the line was muffled, but it was difficult to tell if that was a fault of the phone or if it was an intentional endeavor on the speaker's part. "Hallo, Ms. Kurihara. Such a charming voice." You pressed your ear closer to the receiver in spite of the pain. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that the man on the other line had an accent—German, you thought.

That was unusual, to say the least. Most people who knew about the detective agency were domestic, or at the very least from Japan if they weren't from the city itself. Contact from anyone outside of that demographic was abnormal, at least if it was in association with an everyday case.

Your reaction seemed to at least catch the attention of one person. "Is something wrong?" Naomi mouthed from across the desks, but you brushed her off as you tried to refocus.

"Thank you, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Straight to the point, hm?" he clicked his tongue. "I'll be quick. You're the agency's liaison, yes?"

"I am," you replied, fiddling with the coils of the phone cord, knotting it around your index finger before squishing it with your thumb.

"Marvelous! I have a message for you to deliver."

The normal part of you wanted to snap back at the man, stating he could have easily placed this message of his into an email, maybe added a GIF or two if he wanted to be theatrical, but the atypical set-up of the conversation left your normal wit at the front door. This man was odd if you had been asked to describe him, and it wasn't because of his accent—no, you had met plenty of people who spoke the same with an assortment of personalities, both good and bad. It was the lilt of his tone that threw you for a loop, like a snake trying to act as the charmer, luring in a mouse with cheese as it waited at the end of a trap. Perhaps that was the reason you decided to take a pen and some paper from Haruno's stationery, fidgeting with the clicker as he continued to speak, an anxious action that did little to appease your watchful juniors.

"You have two hours to hand over your master detective."

You peered over at the aforementioned sleuth out of the corner of your eye, who sat none-the-wiser to his newfound predicament, downing his candied drink as he grouched to himself about his boredom despite the piles of cases on his desk. He certainly wouldn't be bored after this. It wasn't rare for someone to threaten Ranpo—he was incredibly polarizing—but more often than not, it was a prank. This wasn't the same.

"Failure to do so," the man over the phone stopped himself, attempting to contain his amusement as his laughter almost slipped into cartoonish joy, forcing you to swallow the impulse to insult the unseen bastard from head-to-toe, "will result in the premature slumber of the clerks and clients of Chuoshijo Bank. That will be where the handover will occur."

You almost broke the phone as its thinner bridge started to crush in your hand. "I'm assuming you won't say why you're doing this?"

He left off with a chuckle. "That's all part of the fun, no?"

The line dropped, and you were only left with the same static. You were silent and contemplative as you reconnected the phone and stared at the piece of paper in your hand. The next step would be to check if this threat was as legitimate as the man made it out to be and you had your suspicions. Three of your juniors eyed you as you walked over to the agency's beacon of ideals, which only drew the attention of everyone else.

"Kunikida."

No response.

"I think he's a little preoccupied," Atsushi replied for him, though you didn't need a reply as you watched the blonde's hand move back and forth in a rhythm, his focus honestly admirable.

"He won't be for long."

The slap reverberated throughout the office, and if your co-workers weren't paying attention before, they certainly were now. Kunikida took a moment to pause his work, eyes drifting to look at the paper that had assaulted his face, which innocently floated onto the surface of his desk. He scowled at the message scrawled across the page, though it was only noticeable through the subtle twitch of his eye.

"Is this threat legitimate?" He adjusted his glasses with the edge of his finger as if the words on the paper would morph into something else, but they didn't.

"A threat?" Kenji leaned his body to peer around you, trying to take a curious look at the message.

"Whoever this was claims they'll kill the people at Chuoshijo Bank if we don't hand over Ranpo."

It only took a couple of moments before almost the entire office gathered around, staring at the paper with both intrigue and worry. No one had ever attempted to place an actual threat toward the lead detective, at least not since most of the members had joined. Even senior members were a bit confused by it, and it felt like a bad omen.

"It wasn't from a local," you piped up. "The man had an accent. German, if I'm not mistaken."

Dazai was one of the members who didn't bother to rise from his chair, though he had no issue inserting his two cents into the discussion. "He could be a member of the Kanagawa Insurance Agency. It's a front for the Port Mafia, but some of its associates were hired from a German reconnaissance platoon after the war."

It astounded you that people never realized his previous profession, even with the numerous times he had delved into information only a Port Mafia member would know. Kunikida was still left in the dark, but he went with his words without question, which was both admirable since he trusted his partner so much and worrisome since he never seemed to pick up on that detail. There was a secret bet for how long it would take for him to realize it.

"We probably won't receive answers from them directly," Kunikida grumbled, the weariness in his tone palpable. He reflected the temperament of the entire agency, wanting a break from the chaos. "We'll have to conduct an investigation."

"The important question is—what could they want with Ranpo?" you asked, and everyone turned to the detective for the answer, only to find him asleep in his chair, hat awkwardly covering his face with his emptied cup still in hand.

"Dazai, (Name)," Kunikida's sternness drew your attention away, "head down to the bank to scope out the situation and try to make contact with the enemy. I'll inform the Boss of the situation while Atsushi and Tanizaki investigate their headquarters. Everyone else is to remain here and protect Ranpo."

The look in his eyes was similar to that of a hawk as he stared at Dazai. "We don't know if they've released the threat publicly, so watch what you say."

"Aye, Aye!" Dazai exclaimed with a salute. "You heard him, (Name)."

"I was referring to you, Dazai!"

"Kurihara-san!" a voice called from the midst of reporters. "What's the reason for the Armed Detective Agency's involvement?"

"We are strictly here to advise the police. Please disperse from this area."

You grimaced as you and Dazai tried to maneuver through a throng of news crews swarming around the outer reaches of the bank. On a normal day, the neighborhood was tranquil, a scenic location near the harbor with an occasional cluster of families or tourists, but the frenzy of flashing cameras and insistent voices shattered that panoramic atmosphere. The organization that man belonged to likely tipped them off, since there were rarely reporters so early in the case.

"Is the Port Mafia involved in this incident?" one reporter hollered, driving a microphone alarmingly close to your face.

"Can you confirm if this is connected to the string of robberies in Gumyoji-cho?" another piped in, several cameramen competing with each other for the best view. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as Dazai tried to place himself in every frame.

This was the aspect of your position that irritated you the most, though you were considered the most adept at handling it out of any of your co-workers—but these people so easily ignored the fact that real lives could possibly be on the line, simply because they wanted their next big break. Luckily for you and unluckily for them, this was one of the few occasions when you were permitted to summon a little attitude.

You held up your hand, shoving the microphone back in the opposite direction. "When the police have prepared a statement, they'll let you know." Like Moses with the Red Sea, the news crews parted at the hint of your obvious irritation. Many of them had become familiar with your infamous intolerance for the media's bullshit from several other incidents, and none of them wanted to be the victim of one of your notorious letters to their bosses. The liaison of the Armed Detective Agency was not to be tested.

"Remind me never to cover for you."

You chuckled at the comment from your companion, bumping his shoulder. "You'd have to get out of bed on days you *are* scheduled for that to ever happen.

Dazai gaped at your scathing dissertation of his character, inclined to make chase as he rushed to catch you through the crowd, only to tumble over the police tape, which astonishingly remained secure as he landed on his face. If he hadn't received enough attention before, he certainly was now as cameras turned to him in not-so-subtle attempts to capture the dashing detective, now a pile of bandages on the sidewalk.

Despite your amusement, you had mercy on him, tugging him by the tails of his trench coat as he wept into your arms. "I can't believe this. My reputation—ruined!"

"I'm certain you'll find some girl who doesn't watch the news," you replied, patting his shoulder in a mock attempt to comfort him.

"Detectives!" a voice hollered from further in the taped-off zone. On further inspection, it was Deputy Minoura who waved the both of you over. It allowed for a momentary respite as the crews turned their cameras away from your faces and onto the building itself, but no one seemed to have greater relief than Minoura, though he raised a brow at your unlikely duo. "Where's your master detective? Is he really too busy to get his ass down here? Should've bribed him with more of those damn sweets."

Despite the severity of the situation, you had to try hard not to laugh. "Actually, he's under watch at the office. The same people who've orchestrated this mess are after him, too."

"Shit," he mumbled, and you felt an instant wave of pity for the poor man. He had a lot of shit on his plate already, if you knew anything about his superiors, and was handed a mostly incompetent task force of barely qualified cadets that depended on Ranpo to solve their problems. Minoura gnawed at the inside of his lip, a hand brushing against the small patch of stubble on his chin. "I'll be frank with you: things aren't looking great. The entire place is on lockdown, and no one's be able to make contact with anyone inside."

You and Dazai eyed each other, not wanting to verbally recognize the unspoken aspect of the situation—the possible chance that everyone inside could already be a bunch of corpses. Neither of you wanted to jump to that conclusion, and while it was within the realm of possibility, it would do more harm than good to assume that was the case right out of the gate. However, the two-hour time constraint remained a further pressure as the clock ticked by.

Dazai hummed. "When's the last time your men swept the perimeter?"

"It's been a bit," Minoura replied. "They've been focused around the main entrance and the roof, so I'll leave the rest to you two for now."

You started your search on the side of the building that faced the harbor, pushing on doors and peeking through windows for the chance there was a crack in their defenses. It took a few minutes of investigating, but it was as Minoura had stated—everything was locked and covered. No loose doors and no cracked windows. Banks were always the worst when it came to any sort of terror situation due to their structure, made like a prison under the perfect circumstances.

"There should be another exit connected to the second floor," you said, pointing back to a staircase you both had yet to look into. "I'll check there while you start on the other side."

His eyes followed you as you ran out of sight, and he hated the abnormal inkling that was itching at the back of his mind, refusing to bubble to the surface. It was aggravating for the genius to be left in the dark by his own thoughts, typically a master of his mind, but the situation itself eluded him. The total lockdown of the bank, the lack of contact from hostages, the tip-off of the media—something wasn't adding up.

It took him another minute before a part of his realization set in.

It shouldn't take you that long to check a fire escape.

Your eyes fluttered open, the thump of your heartbeat deafening your ears like an alarm clock. It took careful deliberations to breathe, the air as thick and warm as molasses on a summer day. The dusky radiance of the moon did little to aid your search as you tried to piece together your location.

It was an abandoned warehouse—a cavernous expanse of shadows and echoed sound. Steel beams crisscrossed above, reinforcing the high-vaulted ceiling that was laden with cobwebs in every corner. Wooden crates scattered about, some sealed with others wide open, stacked haphazardly across slick concrete, shaping into a labyrinth of unknown objects. It would've been the place of nightmares if not for your splintering headache, which placed your fearful reaction on hold as you muttered to yourself, tussling with the restraints that threatened to cut off your blood flow.

"Good morning, Dornröschen."

A man sauntered out from behind a crate, and you shuddered to think he had stood there watching the entire time. He was middle-aged and stoutly built, with tufts of sandy, peppered hair that slicked back to touch his crown, not a strand out of place. In other circumstances, you'd assume he was a foreign dignitary—a walking advertisement for the heights of western-European fashion, dawning a Brioni wool suit and Austrian Oxfords. He repositioned his golden cufflinks, the room thickening with the stench of an oud-scented cologne.

"Nice to finally meet face-to-face, Ms. Kurihara."

The blurred edges of your vision cleared away, and your face shined with clarity. "You're the caller."

He oozed with a cartoonesque delight, clasping his hands. "Correct! And I must admit, you are even lovelier than you sound over the phone, herzchen."

You scowled as he attempted to cup your face with those same grubby hands, leaning away. "Don't touch me."

"A feisty one, hm?"

He jerked a stainless steel flask out of his pocket, monogrammed with initials—E.K. You eyed it before you swallowed a groan, having arrived at a worrisome conclusion. Dazai had been correct. The leader of that aforementioned German reconnaissance platoon, as he had informed you en route to the bank, was a man named Eduard Knopf—and it seemed you had the honor and displeasure of meeting him face-to-face. He had a reputation for being a seedy individual, luring people into deals that always fell through on the other end, leaving the poor soul in debt to both the mafia and their front company.

You hissed when he yanked on your ear, forcing you to meet his gaze. "It's fortunate our efforts didn't go to waste. For all their discernment, your co-workers aren't too vigilant when it comes to guarding their most precious asset, no?" Your nose shriveled in disgust as the smell of whiskey was blown against your face. "Left defenseless without an ability."

You blinked, trying to process everything. "Precious?" you muttered as he released his hold on your ear to take another sip from his flask. "I'm just a liaison. They could easily find a replacement for my position if they needed to. And what about Ranpo?"

Eduard spat out his drink, hacking as he punched his chest to cough it onto the floor. You stared with disbelief and disdain as he went from choking to laughing, almost hysterically.

"What's so funny?"

"This isn't about that infantile detective," he said, wiping a tear—if you knew anything about Ranpo, you knew he had probably detected that insult from miles away. "We have our ways of learning about him and every one of your co-workers. No, that's not why we brought you here."

Your lips pressed together in a tight line. "Then why am I here?"

"Do you not know?" he pressed, tilting his head as if you were supposed to ascertain his thoughts from the sky. "That's possible, certainly, but I'd hate for you to disappoint me. You've been so charming up until now."

"Can I have a hint?" you urged, trying to hold back your obvious irritation as your legs pulled against the restraints.

"Your name was at the top of a list."

Thousands of questions swarmed in your mind, but the one at the forefront was exactly who created this list. It wasn't likely the government—out of all your co-workers, you were the least likely to be put under watch. That honor went to Dazai, with Atsushi barely placing as a runner-up. And it certainly wasn't the Port Mafia; they had no interest in an ability-less woman unless it was for a ransom.

"Who made the—"

"It was found in a database that belongs to the Demon from the North."

Oh. Oh.

"Damn it," you muttered, head leaned back as you resigned to your inevitable fate. "Of course, it's him."

"So you do know! Marvelous, simply marvelous."

But with your newfound clarity, you looked at Eduard with an altered point of view. The revelation shattered your initial assumptions, and your ass kicked back into gear, racking over every detail as you sunk back into an older perspective, careful not to fall too far in. Otherwise, you'd be left to crawl out without a lifeline to hold on to.

"How did you gain access to his servers?"

"We had several spies infiltrate the Rats—some professional hackers that breached into his operating system within a week." His pride was palpable as it spilled over. He adjusted the lapels of his suit with the confidence of a man who had not spattered a concoction of alcohol and saliva across the dirty floor. "So I can assure you that your secrets are in capable hands. We both want the same thing, and my men are prepared to squash these pests once and for all."

"Hm, really?" you hummed noncommittally.

"Of course! All you need to do is tell us what you know. I'm certain the agency will understand the mutual benefit."

He drew his phone out from another pocket, fingers aimlessly mashing at buttons as he tried to search for something. Only a few moments passed before his foot began to tap, the heel of his shoe echoing inside this metal tin of a structure as he became antsier by the second. Fortunately, he found what he wanted and turned the screen in your direction. You squinted, your eyes adjusting to the glaring light of a blurred list. The picture was almost indecipherable, as if a high-schooler had taken it—though even the teens in the agency were likely ten times as capable as Eduard's spies.

"Do you recognize any of these names?"

You deciphered the unintelligible text the best you could manage, but after the first name, it didn't matter. The trend was obvious to anyone featured on it, and a part of you didn't want to say anything, but that would probably cause more problems than necessary.

"I do."

"Perfect!" he exclaimed. "Can you remember any addresses? Cities would work, too."

"It wouldn't matter, even if I did." You eyed him, and the next words you uttered drained the life out of you. "They're all dead."

He paused, stumbling over his gestures. "Are you certain? Everyone on this list—"

"Is dead and buried. Six-feet-under."

He bore into his phone, staring at the list with morbid fascination. "So this is a hit list?" The look he made left little room for comfort. You had to resist the impulse to scooch back in your seat. "You must have some important information, then. Anything you wish to share? I have no doubt we could come up with a little arrangement for your release."

"What do you have to lose?" he chuckled, his phone clicking with each stroke as he preemptively started to draft a message.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

Silence filled the warehouse, the wind of the harbor acting as the only sound. He turned on his heel, his phone limp in a loosened hand. You had no reason or desire to meet his eyes; you were merely looking beyond him.

"He's your enemy," Eduard griped, his brow twitching as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Why keep his secrets to yourself? Is it 'cause you're not aligned with our methods? You can't pretend the agency is the epitome of morality."

"It isn't that," you replied, watching the moon as it made its ascent above the window line. "It's just that you're incapable of defeating him."

His voice dwindled to a murmur, dripping with the venom of a snake oil salesman. "My organization has ten times the manpower of that pathetic agency of yours. What could they do, hm?"

"They are the only ones capable of defeating him," you finally met his hostile stare. "Tell me—in a game of cards, what would be the benefit of showing your deck to someone who isn't your ally? And what's the chance that they'd rat you out the moment they were inevitably backed into a corner?"

His mouth outstretched into a vicious snarl, and he toyed with his pocket. "Oh, herzchen. And here I thought you were smart." A flash of metal lustered in the moon's brilliance as Eduard fiddled with the safety of an old Luger pistol—not that you seemed that interested, your eyes distant once more. He smacked the muzzle against your forehead in a vain attempt to allure a reaction but was only met with silence.

"I'll make sure to return you in one piece."

BANG!

The sound deafened the warehouse. Hardened eyes subsided into shock before they glazed over as Eduard sunk to the floor, his head hitting the concrete with a hard smack. Blood trickled into a stream out of the wound in his forehead from the bullet that had pierced straight through his skull.

"You've gotten yourself into quite the predicament."

You acknowledged the speckles of blood on your skin with a wince, a familiar silhouette approaching from the darkness. It had been a minute since you had seen his face, but you knew those intense eyes, only veiled by the thin strands of hair that fell between them. He raised a curious brow as you noted the pistol in his right hand, which he turned to conceal back into his pocket. A hush filled the space once more, the depth of your stare only amusing him.

"You don't look too pleased to see me."

"I can't say I am," you replied. "You're bound to bring destruction wherever you trail."

He smirked, fingers smoothing against the scrape on your forehead. "Is that any way to speak to your savior?"

"You mean my actual kidnapper?" your lip quirked up. "You didn't expect me to believe this was all some sort of coincidence, did you? Don't tell me you think I'm an idiot."

"You, моя милая? Never," he replied, his devilish smile flickering into a softer expression before reverting once more. "It was predictable to partner with the Armed Detective Agency, любимая. It's no surprise they've drawn you in."

"Predictable actions can have unprecedented results. You'll just have to wait for my next move."

He lifted your chin with the edge of his finger, swiping his thumb underneath your jawline. "As anticipated. I'd only expect the best from you."

His fingers danced across the surface of an old switchblade's handle, severing the rotted restraints around your wrists and ankles until you were unbound. He braced your shoulders as you attempted to stand on your own two feet, body unused to your weight from the hours of sitting—it was no surprise that he took the opportunity to snake an arm around your waist, pressing you firmly against his chest.

"It's been too long," he drawled, a satisfied smile pressed against the heated skin of your neck as you tried in vain not to melt at his touch. You found yourself subconsciously returning the gesture, a hand drawing circles up his spine in a manner that always made him fold.

"What're you playing at?"

"It's as you said." He raised the palm of your hand to his lips, kisses intricately placed into every wrinkle before they carefully decorated the marks on your wrists. "It's foolish to show your cards to an enemy. And you, моя милая, are the worst person to show my hand."

You hummed as he left a kiss on your forehead, careful not to disturb the bruise that started to blossom. "So cold you are," he whispered. "To take my heart and wield it against me."

And you allowed yourself to lean into his chest, eased by the subtle beat of his heart. "I could say the same to you, Федя."

The warmth of his hands rendered you motionless, a reminder of balsam smoke in the altars of churches that had been ebbed over the years. For the first time in forever, you indulged in his presence and allowed his soft words to soothe your doubts with every caress. He was temptation itself, and he knew what he was doing. It would be so easy to succumb to his sweet delusions. Your chin was lifted once more, and you knew you wouldn't be able to resist him if he kissed you. But as your lips were about to meet, voices could be heard from further in the warehouse.

"What if she's hurt?"

"I'm sure she's fine, Atsushi," a sardonic voice responded. "(Name)'s a tough woman. She can handle herself."

You looked away from Fyodor, smiling fondly at the racket created by your co-workers. He stared for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh, drawing your attention back in his direction.

"It seems our time has been cut shorter than I anticipated." He left one last kiss against your knuckles. "Until we meet again." He left in the opposite direction, his black coat shielding him from sight as your co-workers round the corner.

"(Name)-san!" Atsushi exclaimed, the stomp of his boots echoing until they came to a halt, split-colored eyes widening at the sight of Eduard's body. "What happened to him?"

Your brow puckered as you racked your mind for an excuse—it was obvious you hadn't done this, but could you possibly tell them the truth? And how would you even start?

Dazai knelt beside the corpse, careful not to displace any vital evidence as he moved disheveled hair away to assess the wound. Clean entrance in the back, messy exit in the front—a shot from behind. His face bowed in contemplation, lines of deep thought etching along his face before he perked back into his normal guise, practically bouncing on one foot in mirth.

"Oh, thank goodness!" he cried, practically bouncing as he took your hands into his in an all-too-familiar manner. "I was so worried something had happened to you. 'Such a waste of beauty,' I said!"

Your response was to flick his forehead, chuckling as he shrank down to the floor with his head in his hands, whining about your 'cruelty' and that he'd 'make you pay for such heartlessness.' Atsushi, on the other hand, was left with more questions than answers.

"Weren't these the same men after Ranpo?" he pressed, scratching his chin. "They never appeared at the agency. What'd they want with you?"

"It seems they believed I had some top-secret information on someone," you replied, messing with the fabric of your sleeves. "They used Ranpo as a decoy to bait me before knocking me out when we were investigating the bank."

"What kind of info did they want?"

You would be foolish not to notice the minute tilt in Dazai's head, an indicator for whenever he was attempting to probe someone. But you weren't a fool, and you stood your ground.

"We didn't have much time to delve into details."

You acknowledged him by returning his gesture, and he stared for a moment before relenting for the time being. It wasn't likely that he'd let the subject go completely, but you needed that precious time in order to think about the endless questions you'd be answering—along with which ones to answer truthfully and which ones to cover up. It was a dangerous game to play with the former mafia executive, but what fun would it be if it wasn't?

The two escorted you outside, and a foul order made you increasingly aware of the reason Atsushi had sounded so worried. Bodies lined the outside of the warehouse; armored men piled in clumps like dead flies as they rotted in the summer heat, their weapons unused as they sat, long dead. Had Eduard sat inside the entire time without realizing his men had all perished?

You looked at them with a solemn expression and tried not to think about it too much. "What happened with the bank? How did you manage to find me?"

"As it turns out, no one was in the bank at all."

You turned back to Atsushi, stupefied. "Huh?"

"Apparently, someone pulled the fire alarm." Dazai stared at the corpses with a similar soberness, eyes distant. "Once everyone was out, they managed to lock down the building. There was no proper way to get a headcount, so it took some time for police to realize that the threat was false."

You sighed, feeling ten times lighter. "At least no one was hurt."

"Ranpo-san was the one who pointed us here," Atsushi interjected, seeming equally as surprised as you were. "He said something about sensing someone underestimating him?"

You laughed. "Yeah, that tracks."

"We'll have to report this back to the Boss." Dazai's face twisted into a malicious expression as he wriggled his fingers. You were very aware of Fukuzawa's responses whenever one of his subordinates was targeted, and Dazai was gleeful in reminding you of that fact. "You'll be in kiddy jail for weeks. Think of how light our paperwork will be—!"

"That man."

You and Atsushi shrieked as Kyouka emerged from the shadows. It seemed that she had followed behind, which hadn't been an uncommon habit in the weeks following her unofficial introduction to the agency, but you and Atsushi seemed to have both forgotten about it. You clutched your heart, taking a deep breath.

"I think I might have an aneurysm."

"That man with the weird hat." You froze. "Who was he?"

"A man with a weird hat?" Atsushi asked, mostly in a rhetorical sense that was a product of his own amused confusion. You wanted to smack yourself—she must've been able to watch from the rafters, a skill the small girl had depended on from her days in the Port Mafia.

You looked back at the warehouse with a wistful expression. "He's...just an old friend."

"Was he the one that saved you?"

The words felt difficult to swallow. "It's usually the opposite."

Before Atsushi could question your weird choice of words, you started to make your way back to the office. He yelled after you for you to slow down, but the sinking feeling in your stomach only forced you to pick up speed. Dazai was abnormally silent throughout the entire exchange, hands dipping into the pockets of his trench coat as he followed where your eyes had been, scanning the exterior of the warehouse. He frowned before deciding to follow the rest.

He'd be sure to interrogate you later.

Fyodor stood on top of the warehouse, obscured from the ground level, as he watched you drift further and further away from him. He took off his hat, letting the winds of the harbor overshadow his rueful expression.

"Let the games begin, моя любовь."

hallo = hello dornröschen = sleeping beauty herzchen = sweetheart любимая = beloved (моя) милая = (my) dear федя = fedya (моя) любовь = (my) love

TAGLIST: @aureatchi @betweensinners @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @crayonssz @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @justcallmesakira @number1morihater @fyorina @yonseibananamilk @suru1990 @honeymoon38 @saeandscaralover @vnk91t

note. i'm super excited for the first entry to this series! i wanted to release this days ago, but i wasn't satisfied with it, so it's gone through a couple drafts, and i stayed up way too late to finish it, so i hope you enjoy!

#series: [from eden]#☆.musings #f!reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader

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