#she knew it was absolutely the incorrect day but not why

[mcmeasle]

astrology bitch Allison who knew Neil was lying about when his birthday was simply because the vibes of his star chart were completely whack with the info he’d given vs him as a person

[thinkinonsense]

TALK, TALK₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: fluff, sweet logan

a/n: inspired by the charli xcx song<3 everything in spanish and french is from google translate so if it's incorrect, that why.

you were no stranger to crushes. they always showed up out of the blue; you couldn't help it. all it took was one glance, a smile, a bit of small talk, anything really. none of this changed when he entered your life.

maybe cupid had struck you in the ass at some point.

for weeks, everyone in the mansion knew where your feelings had floated. normally, you try not to develop any crushes on the people you see daily but this guy was different. even sort of dangerous; the thrill excited you.

"you don't understand, storm." you groan, helping her train downstairs. "there's just something about him. i can't explain it."

your dear friend laughs, swinging at the boxing bag again. "i'm not saying not to go after him... just be careful is all."

"well, there's nothing to worry about because he hasn't even talked to me." a small sigh escapes you.

"he hasn't talked to you?" she questions. you shake your head. "that's odd. i wonder why not?"

"well, he keeps to himself." you shrug, thinking of excuses besides the fact that he likely doesn't share the same feelings you do.

"hm... have you tried talking to him?"

"nooo." you giggle nervously. "absolutely not! you know how i get when i actually have to talk to people i have crushes on."

"i know." storm joins in on your laughter. "it's like someone set you on top of a stove; you just start melting."

"it all comes out like, 'blah, blah, blah'."

"you never know, maybe he speaks 'blah, blah, blah' too."

little did storm know that her words would linger around in your head every time you see him.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

obliviousness was not a trait logan had. he noticed everything; whether he liked it or not. in this case, he didn't mind noticing everything about you.

it started when he saw a shadow following him to the cafeteria, down the hall, and to the training room. he tried to be polite and ignore it; too afraid to scare you off entirely.

a couple days after your talk with storm, charles sent the older mutants out on a mission. this included storm, scott, logan, and yourself. upon the return, all of the older mutants gathered in the kitchen to unwind. you, storm, and kurt sat together at the table. the two of them bickered back and forth about something silly that happened during the mission.

it wasn't fair how good logan looked during the mission. the tight black spandex did wonders for his form. it felt like some high school crush. butterfly's always in your stomach when he looks at you.

on the other side of the room, logan sat in a wooden chair next to hank, with a cigar dangling from his lips. it must've felt like you were burning holes into the side of his head. even storm had to nudge you to look away from him, telling you to stop giving him 'heart eyes'.

"think someone's got a crush on you, pal." hank teases logan. "heard she's been waiting for you to talk to her."

you looked pretty, sitting at the table with a slight red stain on the inside of your lips, matching the flush of red on your cheeks when you notice him catching you staring. logan couldn't think of anything that compare to the ethereal sight before him.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

the glass of red wine on your hand was now empty, allowing you to excuse yourself from their conversation for a moment. at the counter, you pour yourself another glass; finishing off the bottle. when you turn to toss the bottle in the trash, you bump into someone.

"s-sorry." you squeal before realizing that it was logan that you bumped into.

"no need to apologize." he assures.

one of logan's big wide palms places itself on your waist, helping keep you upright. all of the wine flooded your mind, unable to form a proper sentence.

"dios mío, eres tan hermoso." you ramble drunkenly shooting stars from your eyes.

*oh my god, you're so gorgeous.

logan couldn't be more confused by your suddenly language switch but he found it awfully amusing. it wasn't a total surprise, he knew you were incredibly intelligent. charles always sang your praises. if you were even a little bit sober right now, you would be mortified.

"whatcha' thinking about, sweetheart?" he smirks, loving how flustered you became.

little did you know, the 200 year old mutant has definitely picked up on some different languages over his lifetime. to logan it didn't even matter whether or not he understood what you meant, he just wanted you to keep talking.

"je veux embrasser ton joli visage." your tongue runs over your bottom lip.

*wanna kiss your pretty face.

"hm... tell me more." logan purrs into your ear. completely forgetting about everyone else in the room.

"he estado enamorado de ti durante meses, ¿sabes?"

*i've had a crush on you for months, you know?

"je pense à toi tous les jours." you step closer, drunk with confidence. "pendant les entraînements, en mission, seule au lit... tout le temps."

*i think about you everyday. during training, on missions, alone in bed... all the time.

"such a smart girl, aren't 'cha, honey?" he groans softly at your words.

it took everything in logan not to kiss you right here, right now. he wanted you to remember the first time he kissed you.

"je veux être ta copine, logan." you whisper in his ear.

*wanna be your girl, logan.

"¿puedes guardar mi secreto?"

*can you keep my secret?

he never wanted you to stop talking; loving every word that falls from your foreign lips.

it wasn't long until storm, pulls you away hoping she caught you before you said anything you would regret. logan didn't mind, too excited to see you in the morning.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

when you woke up, your head was pounding. nothing worse than a wine hangover. you couldn't remember anything after jean poured you a third glass of wine. you took two aspirins and laid in bed for an extra hour before you finally made it downstairs for breakfast.

logan smelled your lavender scented shampoo the second you stepped out of your room. he had been downstairs waiting for you. everyone had already started their day, off either teaching or training. not him though, he had different plans for his day.

"morning." logan said to you as you walked into the kitchen. your heart fluttered, he could hear it.

"good morning." you reply meekly as you grab a plate and some utensils.

he sips on his plain black coffee while you place two waffles and some fruit onto your plate. theres a small stack of books next to logan on the table but you don't give it a second glance.

"wanna sit?" he asks you.

this was a completely different side of logan compared to the usually grumpy version of him that everyone sees.

"sure."

"did you have fun last night?"

he needed to test the waters on what you remember. by the late arrival to breakfast, logan's guess was not much.

"would you believe me if i said that i can't remember much?" you giggle nervously as you bite into a strawberry. "i was probably being boring in some corner."

you couldn't have been more wrong, logan thinks to himself. the two of you have some small talk for a while, enjoying each others company. this wasn't helping your crush from spreading.

once you cleared your plate and logan finished his coffee, both of you get up to place your dishes into the sink when you noticed the books in logan's hands. one spine read 'beginners guide to french' and the other read 'spanish for dummies'.

in a flash, everything came hurtling back at you full speed. this wasn't yours and logan's first conversation alone together.

"¿Qué pasa cariño?" logan asks, voice filled with desire as he cages you against the sink. his lips ghosted over your own; tempting you beyond your strengths. "je pensais que tu voulais que je te parle ?"

*what's wrong, sweetheart?

*i thought you wanted me to talk to you?

"et merde." you whisper before pulling on the collar of his flannel, smashing his lips into yours.

*fuck it.

the sheer taste of the other drove both of you insane. the mix of logan's coffee and tobacco contrasting with your sweet syrup and fruity taste was intoxicating. you pull back, needing to catch your breath. logan's lips moved south, sucking a dark purple bruise on your pulse point.

"better than i imaged." logan groans, obsessed with your every being.

"imagine si tu m'avais parlé plus tôt ?" you wink down at him.

*imagine if you had talked to me sooner?

logan chuckles, bending to pick you up. "love that mouth of yours, sweetheart. lets see what other languages it speaks."

[justauthoring]

Shoko Just Can't be Right [2]

a series of snapshots of your life with geto and gojo -> this part: what if shoko's convinced and maybe she's just right?

a/n: finally wrote the second part.... hehe.

pairing: satosugu x f!reader, shoko x f!reader

read the other parts here: one - two - three - four

-

"There is no way."

"Uh, yes, there is."

Sending Shoko a blank look, you scoff.

But, as per her style, she doesn't relent.

"Y/N," she deadpans, reaching across the desk to take your hands in her own, squeezing them enough to pull your gaze on her's once again. "I say this with complete and utter confidence, they're in love with you."

"Shoko," you call back, mimicking her tone; "they're in love with each other."

"True," she offers with a light shrug. "But also you."

Your mind blanks with the utter disbelief and ridiculousness of it all. "Is that even... possible? I mean, to be in love with two people at once?"

You didn't think so.

"Probably," she shrugs, "I mean with love anything's possible, right?"

And you can tell with the shit-eating grin on her face, she's finding this all too funny. Honestly, if you were on her side of things, you'd probably get a kick out of the whole thing as well but alas, you weren't and it wasn't easy to ignore the crushing of your heart as the hope you're desperately trying to hold back tries to sliver it's way past.

Ugh. Hope. What an entirely stupid and ridiculous--

"They do say that."

Back straightening, every muscle in your body tightens at the sound of Gojo's voice. It was, honestly, the last person you wanted to hear right that second; by default just because it was, well, him, but also because with Gojo, Geto was usually trailing behind...

A glance over your shoulder tells you you're correct.

Just as you thought.

You catch Shoko perking up out of the corner of your eye, and instantly a sense of dread floods you; this cannot be good.

"What are you two talking about?" Geto asks, coming to a stop next to Gojo, hands shoved leasurely into his pocket, brow raised with curiosity.

"Well—"

"Nothing!" You cut in sharply before Shoko can finish, sending her a glare over your shoulder (to which she rolls her eyes), pushing yourself to your feet. "Actually, we should be going because we—"

"Awehhh!" A loud whine cuts you off, eyes flickering over to Gojo whose slumped over dramatically; "but I was hoping you'd wanna hang with us."

Hang with them?

Alone?

That sounds like both a blessing and absolute nightmare. Especially with the thoughts that Shoko has invested in your mind—you could barely look at them now without thinking about her words; they're in love with you. God, why did she have to go around telling you that?

Making you think—for even just a second—that that could ever be true.

Because it wasn't. Obviously.

Geto and Gojo loved each other. That was true. Yes, that had been true since the very first moment you'd laid eyes on the both of them. The last to join them in their first year. The two of them, including Shoko, had already gotten aquainted with one another (some more than others). The three of them had spent four whole months with just them and no one else and had been able to bond.

And then you came in.

Clueless about the jujutsu world and about what a jujutsu sorcerer even was. Your whole world had been turned upside down and you were far outside of your element.

And yet, despite all that, you'd walked into that classroom that day and amongst Gojo's rather cocky greeting, Geto's simple one and Shoko's enthusiastic one (she'd expressed her fondness quite plainly for no longer being the only girl), you'd seen how much Geto and Gojo loved each other.

They were pretty obvious about it, even if at the time neither of them had known about the other's feelings.

So, yes, Shoko couldn't be right. She knew she wasn't saying it all to be mean, she wasn't like that—clearly she'd seen or heard something that had lead her to this incorrect assumption.

Because that's all it was.

An assumption.

One you wouldn't let yourself be swayed by for one second.

"Y/N?"

Blinking, you're pulled from your thoughts with a snap, focusing in on Geto who's leaning down to meet your gaze, concerned, with a baffled Gojo slightly behind him, the both of them looking at you rather intensely.

And, when you turn your head to the right, Shoko's gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Where..." Your words trail, in disbelief.

"Oh," Geto mumbles, pulling back as he realizes where you're looking. "She left for a smoke, said that she didn't mind rescheduling your plans. I do believe she added to the end of it, 'anything to get Gojo to shut up'."

"Hey!"

That sneaky little—

You turn to face both boys, quite honestly dumbstruck.

But then Gojo is shoving his face in yours, grinning; "so? Let's go!"

You sputter; "wh-where?"

-

To a sweets cafe. That's where.

Gojo all but drags you there, ignoring your protest to at least let you change, simply calling over his shoulder that; 'you look adorable!' which absolutely was not true. You hadn't worn your uniform that day since it wasn't a school day, and you and Shoko had had plans to spend the day together campus which had lead you to wear a simple skirt with an oversized sweater over it. You weren't expecting to leave or go out or least of all be going out with both Geto and Gojo or else you would've probably dolled yourself up at least a little.

Which, yes, Gojo's words, albeit simple, did leave you even more flustered, cheeks flushed and stuttering for a response all whilst Geto chuckled lightly behind you, clearly amused to himself.

But both Geto and Gojo are dominating of your time and don't allow you even a second of an escape, chatting your ears off happily whilst Gojo goes to the counter to order an array of sweet, leaving you and Geto to find a table.

You have to admit that the cafe is quite cute and the sweets you'd managed to grab for yourself (with the help of Geto, who promptly slapped Gojo's hand away when he tried to steal one of them) were delicious. Geto had gone back to the counter to order you a drink and although you weren't always used to be with either of them alone, the two of them were chatty enough that you didn't feel awkward or tense with silence.

It wasn't that you didn't get along with them. You did. Despite your rocky first impression of Gojo, you got along with the both of the extremely well.

But that was at school. In class. Or, at the very least, with Shoko. You weren't used to having to fend off the both of them and although you cared for them both greatly, they were both intimidating in different ways.

In ways you weren't.

Shoko always said you were too quiet. Too easy. You said yes to anything someone asked you of and you didn't often argue even if it wasn't something you weren't comfortable with. It had taken Shoko months before you properly opened up to her, but Geto and Gojo were confident and skilled and people seemed to bend over backwards for them just because, well, they were them.

People treated them differently than they treated you because you were quiet where they were loud, nervous where they were confident, and soft where they were hard.

(Little did you know that Geto and Gojo absolutely adored this about you—despite how incredibly self-conscious you were about it yourself).

Still, the day goes on well. And you find yourself rather enjoying their company.

You've all been there for just over an hour when you excuse yourself to the washroom, slipping past Geto in a way that has your cheeks burning red and flustered as you make your way to the ladies room.

It's on your way back that things take a bit of a downward shift.

A firm hand wraps itself around your upper arm, halting you in your tracks and pulling a surprised gasp from your lips as your world is tilted on it's axis briefly.

Then, suddenly, there's a group of boys surrounding you.

"Hey," one of them smiles at you, though it's all cold and no warmth. "Do you go to school around here? Don't think we've seen you before."

"And I think we'd remember a face like yours." Another one pipes up, your head shifting to the right to find him towering over you.

The one on your left steps closer, smirking down at you. "Noticed it as soon as you walked in here," he grins, wide and menacing. His eyes drift across you, low in a way that makes your chest tighten uncomfortably, then back up to your eyes. "You new?"

They're too close.

"N-No," you force out, shaking your head as you try to push them away. "Sorry, my-my friends are—"

"Yeah, those two guys, right?"

A hand falls on your back, and you tense.

"We could show you a far better time, you know?"

"Yeah," a laugh, "why settle for them, when—"

Another hand falls on you. But it's different. Warmer. Familiar.

You're pulled away and tucked against a chest, glancing up to see Geto's familiar figure looming behind you, his gaze threatening but it instantly softens as he glances down at you.

Gojo steps in front of you, blocking you from their view.

"I do believe you're making Y/N uncomfortable," Gojo grounds out and his voice is so unlike anything you've ever heard. It's dark, cruel, all trace of his usual goofiness and teasing gone.

You can't see his face, but if it's anything like Geto's, you're sure the face matches his tone.

"I would fuck off now." Geto growls from behind you, low enough you feel his chest rumble in reaction. "Before we make you."

You don't see it. Geto doesn't let you. But none of the three boys even get a word out before they're scampering off with paled skin and pleading cries of mercy, racing out of the cafe and not sparing another glance back.

What—

Gojo spins to face you and he's grinning, wide and bright, stepping towards you. "Sorry about that darling," he calls out, ruffling your hair. "We got worried when you took a while to come back."

"Should've called for us," Geto mumbles, squeezing your shoulder in a soft, reassuring sort of way. "Let us know you were in trouble."

Gojo's hand falls on your cheek, cupping it, face suddenly serious but not in the same menacing way as before but concerned. "We'll always come when you're in trouble."

Geto nods; "so, don't feel afraid to rely on us."

They're in love with you.

Shoko's word taunt you in the back of your mind, completely stunned by Geto and Gojo as they move to walk, neither of them letting go of you, Geto's hand on your back and Gojo's hand wrapped around yours, leading out of the cafe.

They're close. They still close. Refusing to slip away.

I mean with love anything's possible, right?

Shoko just couldn't be right. She just couldn't...

Could she?

[rae-pottah]

I Just Stood There.

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Rossi's daughter! reader

Y/n = your name

L/n = your last name

Warnings: she/her pronouns, shitty writing?,fluff.

Summary: after embarrassing herself in front of her crush, Y/n rants to Penelope, bad idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Y/n's POV*

Hanging out with my dad's coworkers was fun. Except when it came to my tiny little small incy weenie crush on Dr. Spencer Reid... And I think everyone knows...

⏪⏪⏪⏪⏪

Meeting the BAU team was a blast! I had been coming by to see my dad, seeing as how we don't spend much time together anymore.

First I bumped into SSA Derek Morgan, and Tech nerd Penelope Garcia:

"He-llo, momma!" said Morgan

"Don't scare her away already hot stuff!" Penelope hit his arm "Hi honey bunches, I'm Penelope, this is Derek, who are you? Are you a newbie?"

"Haha! No, I'm Y/n, I'm here to see my father!" I laugh, they looked confused

Next, SSA Jennifer Jareau (otherwise known as JJ) and SSA Emily Prentiss

"Who's this?" JJ asks Garcia

"This is Y/n, she's here to see her father!" Garcia tells her, confused. None of them letting me speak JJ asks

"Who's her father?" With a confused face as well

"Wh-" Garcia starts to ask me a question when my Father, and Uncle Aaron walked in

"UNCLE AARON!" I ran up to him and jump hugged him

I could see my dad off to the side holding his arms open with a playful confused/hurt look on his face, looking from side to side

"No hug for dear old dad, no sirey, just here for the money" he said sarcastically to no one

"Glad you know" I joked, and gave him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek

"So I have lunch I was hoppiii-" I stuttered off as I watched a beautiful man, a genius, a fluffy haired, angelic, smart, kind man walk by me, his name

Doctor Spencer fuckin Reid

"Aaand she's gone" my dad said bringing me back to reality, now noticing everyone smiling at me, him not even noticing I'm here put his stuff down at his desk

"Wwwhat his papers are insanely good" I whispered looking at my shoes

"Well, I'd still like to know what the hell is going on?!" Morgan asks

"This is one of my daughters from my second marriage" he finishes the sentence with a kiss to my head

"Also I already knew your names, my father has prepared me well" I laughed

"Huh and I guess you know pretty boy?" Morgan asks with a smirk, still working at his desk (I'd have to meet him later) I nodded quickly with a blush

"I think she knows him more than she knows any of you, and she's actually met you guys now" my father answers, while everyone starts "oouu" -ing and laughing, I just blushed with my head down

⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩

I eventually met Spencer when everyone came to our house for a cook out, walking backward with a chair isn't a good idea when you can't see behind you.

"OUFF" hit a wall, wait... walls don't make noises

I put the chair down and turn around "OH MY GoD, Im So SorRy" my voice cracked as I spoke to the man in front of me "Are you okay?" I asked

"Haha yeah I'm fine, it was my fault anyway, I wasn't looking where I was going. You're Y/n right?" I instantly blushed

"y-yeah I am, Doctor Spencer Reid, if I'm not incorrect?"

"yes!" He smiled, absolutely beautiful. He helped me move the chair and we talked slightly, me stuttering the entire time.

⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️⏭️

Again visiting my father at work, today was gonna be a good day.

I was getting ready to turn the corner to my fathers office when I ran into someone

"Sor- oh hi" it's like his ears were hurting, why do I have to run into you while I'm thinking about what a domesticated you would look like

"Hi, how are you?" He must have just woke up because his voice was deep as hell, and he had dark circles under his beautiful brown eyes

"-hi-" I couldn't think of anything else to say, I walked away quickly

"Hey can we go for lunch?" I asked my dad quickly

"Sorry kid, we got a case" disappointing but at least I can talk to Garcia alone (we've become good friends)

A while after they left:

I just walked straight into Garcia's office

"I SAID HI, TWICE" I said terrified

"Woah woah woah, what are we flipping out about" she looked very concerned

"I said hi twice! We bumped into each other and I said 'oh hi' and he said 'hi, how are you?' And I JUST SAID HI AGAIN?! WHY DOES HE HAVE TO REDUCE MY IQ TO 3?!"

"Wai- you mea-" I cut her off

"Spencer! Yes! Duh! Why does he have to be so hot and smart and adorable, I mean have you read his paper on quantum physics?! Only a perfect man could be that smart and THAT HOT!" I flopped on the couch in her bat cave

"Okay, baby doll, please don't be mad at me, I tried to tell you!" Only then did I look down to see the little red light being produced from the phone

"No."

"Yes." She said in a sorry voice

"Who are you on the phone with?" I asked nervously

"Oh! Actually hotch!"

"I'm not afraid to remove your knee caps Uncle Aaron." I said dangerously

"I'll help her hide the body!" Garcia shouted

"Ha.Ha. you want the bad news or good news?"

We stayed quiet

"Okay bad news is, the entire time Garcia's been on speaker, including the time that you ranted about boy genius, also bad news I'm sitting around everyone"

I could have cried until he said

"Good news is, is he can't stop smiling"

"EA" I let out a small yelp from Garcia nudging me and the information.

"You'll have to wait till we get back to ask her out, Rossi quit death staring him, you already knew, here's your fifty"

I ran out of the room and home, soon enough a couple days later there was a knock at my apartment door

[apparitionism]

Asleep

Happy @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange to @kla1991 , our fearless leader, who of course knew I was their gifter, and who requested “a bed-sharing scenario that doesn't immediately turn sexy,” one that might involve tensions and/or physical discomfort. I’ve tried to approach that assignment in the appropriate spirit, with a bit of spin, although I suppose it all really depends on what any given person considers “sexy”... anyway, I’m pretty sure there are two sides to every story. Two sides to every bed, too. Here’s the first side. (This takes place in a post-season-five world, because why not raise the difficulty level?)

Asleep

My arm is asleep.

Normally, a person would, upon realizing this, shift position so as to restore blood flow.

Normally.

But very little is normal about the situation in which Myka’s arm is asleep.

She is in a hotel-room bed, in the dark of night, lying on her left side, with her left arm, her now-asleep arm, pinned beneath her. So ends the extremely limited “normal” portion of the situation.

Here begins the rest: she absolutely must not move. This is because she can hear, and can as a molecular disturbance feel, the steady push-pull of Helena’s breathing, near her neck, so near. She feels also the unfamiliar proximity of Helena’s body, offering heat across what must be only nanometers separating her from Myka’s back. And then there is Helena’s hand, what must be her right hand, resting in sleep, what must be unconscious sleep, on Myka’s hip.

They have never been in a bed together before tonight—but also, sadly also, they are not in a bed together now. They are simply two people in a bed in a hotel room, one of them obviously sleeping, obviously fulfilling her role in the “two agents are sharing a hotel room and getting some rest” play they are performing.

Myka, however, is not asleep. No: instead she is on fire because of Helena’s breath and heat and hand but unable to do anything about any of that, and thus desperate to escape and suffer her mortification in private but unable to do anything about any of that either—a terrible combination.

And now her arm, as if in intentional mockery, is asleep.

She has arrived at this pretty pass due to a series of events that had seemed, in their unfolding, to be at the very least manageable...

... starting with Helena’s return to the Warehouse.

That return had at first struck Myka as a beautiful dream—and, equally, a reward for awakening from a nightmare.

The particular nightmare from which Myka had awakened was the fugue in which she’d imagined she might have romantic feelings for Pete. How perfect it had seemed, then, for Helena to present herself to resume agent duties at the Warehouse, so soon after that enormous error had been rectified. “A reboot, I believe it’s called,” Helena had said of her change of heart, and Claudia had laughed uproariously at that, shouted “Turn it off and turn it on again!”, and hugged the obviously befuddled, but just as obviously pleased, rebooted agent.

Myka had not hugged Helena, not then. She’d thought to save such an action, such an aggressively bodily action, for an even more meaningful time, progress toward which would, at long last, begin.

But progress had not begun. In the reboot, Helena was a collegial colleague to Myka.... and that was all.

Helena did not, as she had in old times (old shows?), make comments that even usually-oblivious Myka could read as flirtatious. She did not step close, too close, as she had in old times, waking Myka’s body to possibility and want. She did not, in fact, mention old times at all. No words about “Wells and Bering”—as Myka had hoped to one day again correct, however incorrect Helena found the correction, to “Bering and Wells”—having ever done anything together.

And Myka of course could not assault such a collegial colleague with an anguished Why? She could do nothing but wish for a reboot of her own, or at least a do-over, one in which the minute Helena stepped from Claudia’s embrace, Myka herself initiated one that made her hopes clear.

But no such reboot was forthcoming.

That disappointment was, Myka found, manageable. Crushing, but manageable. It was made more so by the fact that Artie sent Helena on retrievals with Steve, sometimes with Claudia as adjunct; thus her collegial interactions with Myka did not have particularly meaningful stakes. At least, none that were Warehouse-specific, and that was what counted. That had to be what counted.

Until one morning at breakfast, when Artie tossed a folder at Myka and said, “Tomorrow you’re going to San Antonio to bag a camera.”

Then he pointed at Helena. “And you’re going with her.”

“Am I?” Helena asked, even as Myka voiced, “She is?

“She’s the one who stole it from Warehouse 12,” Artie told Myka. To Helena, he said, “So I assume you’ll know it when you see it.”

Well, that tone in Artie’s voice was like old times—old shows. But Helena did not respond with her back-then defiant chirp. She said a simple “oh,” a chastened wince that seemed pulled from a different show entirely.

Artie should not be inflicting this on her, Myka thought. After a moment, she revised that to, Artie should not be inflicting this on her or on me. Her first counter: “Maybe Helena could just tell me what it looks like.”

“If that would be easier,” Helena said, with a quickness suggesting she agreed that something was indeed being inflicted on somebody, “I certainly—”

“Did I stutter?” Artie demanded.

He didn’t. But after a bit of time, Myka thought she could, just maybe, manage the situation, both because of Helena’s apparent trepidations and as a way of sidestepping her own feelings. “I’m not sure this mission with Helena is a good idea,” she tried saying to Pete later that morning.

“How many times do I have to tell you the vibes aren’t bad anymore?” he asked, annoyed, as if she’d been making a habit of hitting him with this concern whenever he was trying to get comfortable with a comic book.

In fact, he’d told her that once since Helena came back. Once. It had happened when Myka had said, in a moment of exhaustion that had allowed her management to slip, “I miss how Helena used to be,” and he’d rolled his eyes and told her, “That’s dumb. The vibes aren’t bad anymore.”

Now Myka said—because why fight about it?—“Obviously more than once. But I just don’t think it’s a good idea. For her, I mean. Artie said that thing about the stealing and she... I don’t know. Wilted.”

“Okay, so tell that to Artie.”

Was that vaguely reasonable advice? “I guess I could give that a—”

“Like that’d work! Ha!”

“You’re very unhelpful,” Myka informed him.

“Keeping it on brand.” He flexed his biceps. “Just like these big boys.”

To which Myka could say only, “I am so devoutly grateful we aren’t together.”

“Me too. Different reasons though.”

“I’m devoutly grateful for that too,” she said.

She was grateful also, when it came down to it, for his total lack of interest in parsing the differences between their reasons.

Pete’s unhelpfulness aside, she still had the greater part of a day before her scheduled departure on this Helena-accompanied retrieval, and she hoped it might still be possible to extricate herself, Helena, or both of them from it.

Who would be more helpful in such an endeavor: Claudia or Steve? Claudia, who might be more sympathetic to the overall difficulty... or Steve, who would probably be more persuasive in helping to take a plan to Artie...  

She went with Steve.

She opened with, “I need to talk to you. No, wait, before you wince: I need to talk to someone, and I think you’re my best bet.”

“I’m not overly flattered, but my prefrontal cortex appreciates the revision. Also my sinuses.”

“I have a problem.”

“My prefrontal appreciates that too: direct, no nuance. And I know we haven’t talked about this out loud, but if your problem’s with me? Totally justified. I got the you-and-Pete thing wrong.”

“No, my problem’s with Helena.” That was probably too revealing. “But the other thing, he and I got it wrong. You were just a witness. Regrettably.”

“But I... pushed?”

“Probably it was a thing he and I had to test to know for sure. And we did, so now we do. I like to think I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

That got her a twist of a smile. “You like to think, but this H.G. thing. I know you two have history, so is this that?”

Myka would have preferred to say “no,” but she figured she should continue giving his sinuses a break. So instead she said, “See, you’re discerning. This is why you’re my best bet.”

“What’s the problem then? You both seemed less than thrilled at breakfast, but—”

Now Myka could tell a truth. “Exactly. She clearly doesn’t feel okay about this artifact, and she shouldn’t have to deal with anything that would make her regret having come back. Right?” Before he could agree or disagree, she presented her plan: “You should do the retrieval with me instead. And I’ll need help selling this to Artie, so if you could gently ask her about the camera and then tell him you’re just as likely to recognize it when you—”

“Wanting to spare her discomfort is admirable. Really. But that wasn’t your issue, not at first. The very instant Artie said H.G. was going too, you tensed up.”

He is your best bet, Myka reminded herself. She sighed and said, “Fine. I’m not sure I can go on a mission with her.”

He winced and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, yes,” she acknowledged. “I’m sure I can. I’m just not sure I want to.”

He didn’t release the pinch. “Unfortunately for both of us, that’s also a lie.”

That one, she resented. “Maybe you’re too discerning.”

“And yet I’ve heard I’m your best bet.”

“Right. Maybe I do want to. But the problem is, everything’s different now.”

“Also, I’m sorry, a lie. That last part. Everything isn’t different. What’s the same?”

Far, far too discerning. “I don’t want to say.”

He smiled. “Aaaaah. Very truthful.”

“Here’s something I do want to say: would you take my place instead?”

“Either way,” he said, his smile morphing into an apologetic grimace, “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“We just have to make a case to Artie, which I know is a heavy lift, but something like how much easier it would be for Helena to go with you since you’re her wrangler now, so—”

“No, I mean logistically. I’m not her wrangler at all, by the way, but also the plane tickets are already in your names, right?”

Well, that was annoyingly true. “Fine. I hate it, but fine. And even if I could find an artifact that would change names on plane reservations, I couldn’t use it because that would really be personal gain.”

“Would it though?” Steve asked, lightly, but with an undercurrent.

Myka did not want to answer that question.

So she and Helena went.

On the plane, Helena said to Myka, “I’m sure you’re wondering about Artie’s statement.”

Accurate, but: “Not if you don’t want to talk about it,” Myka said. “In that case, any and all wondering canceled. Canceled like... an underappreciated cult TV show.” That was something a colleague would say, wasn’t it? A particularly collegial one, such as, for example, Claudia, from whom Myka had copied and pasted the words about television.

This wasn’t the first time she’d plucked words like this; articulations of her own, she feared—even more so now than in the past—were likely to reveal too much.

Helena raised an eyebrow. “You sound like Claudia.”

Mission accomplished, if a bit too well, so Myka shrugged and said, “I’ve heard characterization can get weird in a reboot.” That was also from Claudia, who had asked Myka, not long ago, “Do you think H.G.’s okay? I know characterization can get weird in a reboot, but she seems a little off,” and Myka had pleaded ignorance as to the entire concept, despite her wish to opine at length on how Helena seemed definitely, from Myka’s perspective, not okay. Definitely off. More than a little.

“I did use that word,” Helena said.

“You did.”

“I did also steal the artifact in question.”

“Napoleon Sarony’s camera.”

“Yes. I gave it to Oscar Wilde.”

“You did?” Oscar Wilde. Okay.

“I told him to have someone use it to take his photograph.”

Obviously this has something to do with its effect, but Myka has no idea what. Helena clearly wants to be drawn out on the point, so Myka probes, using what she knows, “Because it was what Sarony used to take those photos of Wilde when he was on his big star-making tour in the U.S.? Or because of the Supreme Court copyright case about that one Wilde photo he took? Oh, that case, I bet it’s why the camera’s an artifact, but—”

“You’re correct on the why of the artifact. But do you know its effect?”

“I didn’t have time to look it up before we left. And it’s not in the file.”

“Artie left it out, I suspect.”

“Because it’s exculpatory?”

“Because it’s explanatory. As far as anything could be, given that time. Obviously nothing is exculpatory.”

Isn’t it? “Do you want to explain?”

“Want,” Helena said, and oh god if Myka could have given herself leave to understand that word said differently. But this was not that reboot. After a throat-clear, Helena went on, “It was... post.”

Myka didn’t need to ask post-what.

“So many artifacts there were,” Helena continued, “so many unhelpful to me in my extremity. Nevertheless I thought to help. To make some difference. Where I could, as opposed to where I could not.”

In old times, Helena had not said this much about her mental state... post. Fleshy, this admission was, and Myka did not know what to make of it. Was it a step closer, akin to the old sort of physical proximity? Or was it just... explanatory? “The effect?” she prompted, gently, hoping for clarification.

“Artistic enhancement of the subject photographed. Oscar too was... post. Imprisonment had diminished him so terribly. I thought an artifactual photograph might help restore his writerly prowess.”

“Did it work?” Myka asked.

“I can’t prove causation,” Helena said. “Nevertheless, post-photo, he did write ‘Ballad of Reading Gaol.’”

That was one of those utterances Myka would be processing for quite some time. Separate and apart from her outsize feelings for Helena as Helena—as a physical body to which Myka’s own body has for years now compulsively responded—there was the ongoing absurdity, the near high comedy, of Helena speaking factually about events of such cultural-historical import. “I can’t think that was a bad outcome,” Myka eventually managed to say.

“I can’t either.”

They had not had so genuine, so genuinely substantive, a conversation since Helena’s return.

However, their renewed familiarity, if that’s what it was, did not outlast the plane.

They found the camera, and they neutralized it with minimal difficulty—if a bit more consternation on the part of the gentleman who believed he had the right to possess the piece.

That was all very... collegial.

And—but—they then tried to check in at their hotel. Or rather, Myka did. Helena was occupying herself with the snacks on offer in the lobby. “Steve usually checks in,” she’d said. “Do you mind?”

How could Myka have been less accommodating than Steve? Also she was—she had to concede—more than a little charmed by Helena’s seeming admission of... well, not incompetence. Just a slight slink away from responsibility.

Please, a more cynical part of her said with a snort of derision, you’re charmed by the way she does everything. Walking, talking, existing. Inspecting potato-chip bags across the lobby in a hotel’s snack pantry.

“Bering and Wells,” the desk clerk said in confirmation of the reservation, and Myka wanted to thank him for that ordering of names. He followed up with, “One king.”

She didn’t want to thank him for that. “No,” she told him, and it was good that Helena was out of earshot. “Two. Kings, queens, doubles, twins, I don’t care. But two.”

“Sorry,” said the clerk. “Full up.”

So one king it had been.

And now, in that one king, Myka’s arm is asleep.

“Are you asleep?” she wants to ask of Helena, aloud, to ascertain the true contours of the situation, but the very asking might—would?—change the contours, and Myka isn’t sure she’s in any kind of state to handle any certainty or any change. So she thinks the question at Helena instead, thinks it over her shoulder at that warm body over and over, Are you asleep, are you asleep, are you asleep, are you asleep, until she’s estranged from the question as anything but words, until “asleep” in particular begins to strike her as bizarrely archaic, its construction completely uncontemporary, and she interrupts her telepathy to think, It is archaic; we don’t ask “Are you abed” or anything like that anymore—

—but she interrupts herself again, for that doesn’t ring quite right. So she calls up the dictionary, the A’s, riffling her way through, and the exercise offers her all sorts of examples that show how very unarchaic indeed it is to say “asleep”: ablaze, abuzz, aground, ajar, alight, aloud, amid...

The list goes on. It’s far longer than she expected, but she continues, doggedly, to the end of the A’s, through “astray,” “aswoon” (she doesn’t linger on that one), on to “atingle” (that one either), on and on, ending with “awhirl.” She’d been by then vaguely looking forward to something like “azoom,” but alas.

Such a lengthy jaunt through the initial chapter of the dictionary surely must have eaten up significant time, perhaps even more than she imagined; perhaps morning is at last approaching, and the alarm will ring, and all this physical consternation can be resolved by sudden wakefulness on everybody’s part.

The clock on the nightstand tells her the journey took three minutes.

Spectacular.

Well, fine. If the A’s were three minutes, the rest of the dictionary should offer her at least an hour of distraction—both from her arm’s discomfort and from the physical, emotional, and existential discomfort created by the presence at her neck, back, and hip.

She starts in on the B’s. First comes “b,” defined, in entry 1a, as “the 2d letter of the English alphabet.” No doubt it’s important to periodically refresh one’s memory of such things.

The B’s proceed, slow and thorough; after “b” comes “baa,” and on and on... “bedlam” catches her attention, in a Warehouse-y way; “bed of roses” does too, as it’s “a place or situation of agreeable ease,” which this certainly is not—

—in sudden, striking emphasis, Helena’s hand on Myka’s hip moves, a minimal slide-glide toward thigh, and oversensitized Myka can’t control a too-violent twitch in response, one that jolts her toward the bed’s edge, which was nearer than she realized, for now its surface is an abrupt absence, and a crash to the floor is imminent, and instinct, instinct: her brain shouts for an arm to break her fall, but the volunteering limb is the stupid somnolent one, and OH GOD she has never known pain to manifest like this—she’s taken a bullet but this is more, for “seeing stars” is no mere metaphor, as she’d always imagined; her vision is literally stellating, even as she hears herself yelp in prelinguistic anguish.

The horrific fullness of the situation settles on her as she additionally hears, directed at her from some angel perspective, the voice of her dreams but now this nightmare saying “Myka? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” Myka moans at the unforgivingly injurious floor, and then the stars win.

TBC

[phantomtrader19]

POTO LONDON 16/03/2024 CHUMISA’S 3RD SHOW!! - REVIEW

(Audio will be gifted soon!)

I had booked this trip before Chumisa was announced to be taking over as alternate the day before so I was kicking myself I just missed her first show, I had heard clips of her online and she sounded incredible and lots of people were raving about her.

I went to the show expecting Eve or Colleen to be on as Lily had been off the Thursday and I didn’t think Chumisa would have done 2 shows directly after her debut BUT low and behold her name was on the castboard however I was a little skeptical as there has been a few times where it’s been incorrect.

During the Hannibal ballet Chumisa came out and I was so excited!! She looked gorgeous in the costume and wig! I also got the pleasure of seeing Lily as Carlotta again who was also brilliant, during Carlotta’s think of me Chumisa was in awe of her and just as the cloth was about to drop you could sense that she had sensed the presence of the phantom.

She began think of me and had a lovely vibrato to start off and then she delivered an unbelievable rendition of the song! So elegant in the way she moved in the Elissa skirt and so smiley like her Christine couldn’t believe her luck! Her cadenza was angelic to say the least so floaty and the high note so strong!

Her chemistry with Joe in the dressing room was so so good she played Christine like a total giddy teenager which really worked!

Her title song was lovely she has a great lower register for the beginning and then her cadenza was BEAUTIFUL and really powerful!

Perfect acting in music of the night played Christine with so much curiosity she was just fascinated by the phantom, her facial expressions and again so elegant in the way she moved!

The unmasking again just great acting and she held the note when singing “who’s is that face in the shadows…who’s is that face in the maaaaask” tiny detail that I LOVED

In the rooftop she was not having any of Raoul’s BS she completely stood on her own and almost seemed to be like well if you don’t believe me see ya later!

All I ask of you was brilliant! Again their chemistry was so palpable one of my fave performances I’ve seen of that song!

Masquerade again her little acting choices were so solid it was as if she was searching for the phantom in the crowd! Notes/managers 2 she stood up to Carlotta really strongly and when she got to Twisted every way you could see her Christine totally break down like she had nothing left to give, truly wonderful poignant acting choices!

Her wishing was SOOOO GOOD she relied a little more on her belt which I imagine she’ll get more into the soprano side further into her run but for her 3rd ever show an absolute acting masterclass!

In PONR she was stunning! When she knew it was the phantom it was almost rage coming out in her singing like she was so over his nonsense lol

NOW…..the final lair…..WOW

She was inCREDible!!! Again a lot of belt but it worked so so well for her portrayal of Christine she really held her own here I was blown away! I got that Chumisa rn is more of a Raoul Christine as opposed to Lily who’s the polar opposite so a really lovely change!

Overall for her 3rd show as Christine I see Chumisa being a fan favourite, so much charisma and charm in her Christine and vocally was beautiful and will only get better! All 4 London Christine’s are top of their game we’re truly spoiled!

Costume notes:

- Her wig texture and style was stunning I just wish they’d add a bit more hair to make it a bit fluffier.

- Her Elissa Skirt is like Anouk’s one so no big bow in the back and gold appliqué round the fake bodice.

- Lovely mint bow in her hair for Il muto and I’m not a massive costume buff however her rooftop dress looked different and I can’t pinpoint why?

- Her masquerade dress was slightly better than Lily’s the bodice was perfectly fit and adequately beaded and the skirt had a lovely shape! West end star princess’ are just not my fave tbh!

- Her wishing dress was like the original production ones with the waterfall drape which was interesting I wonder if that will change

[bedofthistles]

For @incorrect-quotes-of-moonacre with Deep love and appreciation for all you've done and continue to do for the fandom

Fairytales are some of the most important works of fiction known to man. While commonly disregarded, overly saturated, and disney-fied, Fairy tales provide the basis for understanding human history. The examination of politics, religions, culture, and a singular thread that pulls nations together. For if one fairy tale was told in Europe, rest assured that many other cultures would have shared similar fables, even if they had never told their stories to the other. Warnings for children, for emperors and kings, the very basis for literature itself, the fairy tale is not something easily overlooked, but is the base of modern community. After all, what brings humanity closer together than rooting for the common goal? Of good rising above evil, true love, and a bit of magic to pull it all together. 

*

Maria wove between the rows, holding a red apple in her hand. Perhaps a bit over dramatic, but she wanted it to serve her point. “We have many reasons to thank fairytales, for the symbolism they offer, the lessons. For this reason-” Maria paused before her desk, tossing the apple into the air before catching it. “I would like you to write your own fairy tale.” Que groans. Maria smiled. “I want this to include several things, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves and write everything. Some stories offer political critique, others warnings; I want something unique. You may borrow ideas, such as sleep curses, but please do your absolute best to be original. Grades will be based on creativity, the substances of the story itself, hidden themes, and of course grammar and other such English nonsense.” 

There was a spatter of laughter from some of her favourite students. 

“The assignment is due Friday and your time starts-” Maria shook her wrist until her watch faced up. “Now.” 

There was the flutter of paper and hushed voices as ideas were spread around, or quiet worry at the idea of having to write something for English. The horror. 

Maria tossed the apple one last time before rounding her desk and taking a seat. 

*

At three on the dot, Maria opened the door to her class, unleashing her students upon the world, watching them run free as the school day came to an end. At the same time, across the hall, Mr. De Noir’s classroom door flung open, and his students made hers appear as well mannered and polite little angels.

Mr. De Noir leaned in the doorway, his arms crossed as he sent a smirk her way. “Miss Merryweather.” 

Maria lifted a brow. Why her uncle had even hired him on the staff she would never understand. He was hardly a respectable teacher, half the time she had to send a student across the hall to tell his to settle down, and he was never dressed up to code. 

Kitten heels, a pencil skirt that hit right above her knees, and a blouse, Maria at least appeared professional. She couldn’t remember the last time she had thought ‘oh yes, let me don jeans to go to work, that’s appropriate,’ and yet there he was. Rumpled denims, a wrinkled button up that wasn’t tucked in, even his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. 

The students adored him, and yes he had amazing recommendations, and credentials, but that did not mean he was Moonacre material. She just knew the old headmistress, Jane Heliotrope, would never have put up with his misconduct. 

“Did you start them on their assignment today?” Maria asked cordially, because someone had to be looking out for the students. 

“What? The fairy tale stuff?” He nearly scoffed. “Yeah, we’re saving that as a free write on Friday.”

Maria’s jaw dropped, “Wha- what do you mean by that? You’re completely disregarding the curriculum?” 

He gave her a laugh, “Oh, c’mon, you know that’s a guide more than anything.”

“Right.” Maria crossed her arms, “And I bet you aren’t having any kind of lesson gearing up to Friday? About the cultural and historic importance fairytales have on society and literature?” 

His smirk deepened, “Nope.”

“So what on earth did you teach them on? If you were able to teach them anything?” Maria asked. 

“The importance of communal and oral traditions. Then we discussed.”

Maria rolled her eyes, because ‘discuss’ was just his excuse to let the class go wild. “That sounds more like a history lesson.”

He shrugged, “History and literature, unfortunately, overlap.” 

Maria bit her tongue and glared, “Right. And you refused to teach on fairy tales because…?”

“Because, Princess, fairy tales have a different kind of connotation nowadays.”

Maria bristled at the nickname. It had started when he had learned the headmaster was her Uncle…

Well, it wasn’t particularly hard to guess that they were related, due to their last names being the same, but he assumed that she had been a legacy hire when that couldn’t be farther from the truth! In fact, she had been hired by Ms. Heliotrope a year before her retirement and Benjamin’s promotion. 

“But that is the exact reason we're supposed to be teaching on them! To disrupt their previous notions!” Maria flung her arms out to further make her point, but she knew she was just getting more and more frustrated, while he kept smirking at her. 

“And that’s why we slowly work up to calling them fairy tales, so by the end of the week, they have a full grasp and understanding of what a fairytale is beyond the Disneyfication.” He clapped his hands together, “Right, I have a long week ahead, and you, I’m guessing have some studying to do? Since you’re not doing any work to mould the curriculum to your class so they can reap the most of it.” 

He turned, the door to his class shut before she could get another jab in. But she stood in the hall, slightly impressed, but mostly irritated. Her thoughts wandered to her Uncle, but telling on a fellow teacher was childish, and she could handle him herself. 

*

“But I knew it was him! His thoughts and ideas getting into their heads.” Maria complained, her eyes narrowed and arms crossed, she hunched over herself on the garden bench sitting outside her Uncle’s home. 

Benjamin had never bothered with the upkeep of his garden, he had simply just let it grow wild over the years, but that summer, he had taken an odd interest in it. Removing all the weeds and ploughing the dirt, he replanted the areas that had once been overgrown grass with growing thyme, and the garden beds with geraniums, of all colours, but primarily salmon pink. 

It was better than his other hobbies: sulking or drinking. 

“That’s not appropriate,” Benjamin said, removing a dirtied glove from his hand. 

“No, it’s annoying.” Maria rolled her eyes. “And I have no idea when he did it! I mean, we were barely speaking yesterday about the curriculum, and today I hear my students talking about how the ideas of fairy tales have been corrupted by modern understanding and Disneyfied! Those are the exact words he used! Can you believe it? I mean, opening his office hours to my students in some lame attempt to contradict what I’ve already taught them.” 

“Well, I can’t let him scalp your students.” 

Maria rolled her eyes, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell him off tomorrow morning and we’ll just have to go from there.” Maria reached over and picked a globe of geraniums before tucking it behind her Uncle’s ear. “So pretty.”

He gave her a glare, but over the years it had lost any ferocity it once held. 

*

Maria stood in front of the kettle, waiting for it to go off, her cup all but ready with her tea bag, when a dark presence slid next to her. 

“I knew you just couldn’t resist.” 

Maria breathed out deeply, calmly, as in the corner of her eye Mr. De Noir leaned against the counter next to her. “Resist what?”

“Using your nepo baby powers to get me in trouble, are you disappointed I didn’t get sacked?”

Maria sighed, lifting the kettle as the light went from green to red, and poured her steaming water into her cup. “Mr. De Noir, I have no idea-”

“My office hours got taken from me.” 

Maria paused, but finished pouring and refilled the kettle. She stuck a fist on her hip and turned to look at him. “What? But I didn’t-”

“And I’ve been placed over the after school detention for the next two weeks-”

“But I didn’t-!”

“And Saturday!” He didn’t glare at her, no he would never, but where he was usually teasing and lighthearted, he seemed genuinely upset with her. 

And then it hit her. 

It was her fault. 

She placed a hand over her mouth. 

Benjamin. 

“Oh, now she remembers.” He looked away from her, discontentedly, into the empty teacher’s lounge. “Y’know, my students make good use of those hours, and unlike you, I have plans on the weekends.” 

“You don’t know what I do after school.” She muttered, her first reaction to defend herself. “Mr. De Noir, I- I didn’t- I’ll fix this, I promise, and until then, tell your students they may come to me during my office hours.”

Mr. De Noir gave her an odd look as he examined her face. 

“What?”

“I- you seem genuinely concerned.” He said. 

Maria rolled her eyes, “Yes, well when I was complaining to my Uncle I thought I was complaining to my Uncle, not Headmaster Merryweather.” She glared, crossing her arms. Goodness, how would she even broach this? She supposed she’d have to schedule a meeting, and go from there-

“Merryweather? Don’t go catatonic on me.” 

Maria broke out of her thoughts and gazed up at Mr. De Noir, she reached out to touch his shoulder, and in all sincerity said, “I will fix this.” 

He cracked a grin, “Don’t need to get all noble on me, Merryweather, it’s just two weeks. And technically I deserve it.”

“It isn’t bad for students to get multiple perspectives… sometimes.” 

He shrugged, and Maria realised she still had her hand on her arm. She snatched it away, her cheeks suddenly feeling warm, before Mr. De Noir reached out and handed her cup to her. 

“From my understanding, Merryweather’s are pretty stubborn, so good luck getting him to change his mind.” Then, he turned and left her alone in the teacher’s lounge, with a swiftly cooling cup of tea. 

She added some sugar cubes, and sped walked her way to her Uncle’s secretary, demanding to speak with him during her open hour. 

*

After an hour, Maria closed her office. 

A few of her students, and a few of Mr. De Noir’s students, had come to speak briefly with her, but beyond a few simple questions about tropes and symbolism, there were no deep inquiries. She had on her coat, and her briefcase in her hand, but when she looked across the way into Mr. De Noir’s dark classroom, a twinge of remorse pinged in her heart. 

With a singular and sudden determination, Maria made her way to the detention hall, which was actually just the meal hall, but was used for detention at set times. 

When she walked in the hall, a bit too proudly, the door swung out and banged against the wall, the sound of it echoing across the empty room and eight heads turned her way. Even Mr. De Noir, who had been sitting on top of one of the tables, slouching as much as he could while not lying on it, popped up at her entrance. 

Maria did her best not to let embarrassment wash over and kept her confidence as she came in, set her bag down on the floor, removed her coat, and joined Mr. De Noir on the table. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking up at her with a strange mix of reverence and bafflement. 

Maria shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t convince my Uncle to let you go.” 

He huffed a laugh. “Told you.” 

Maria nudged his knee with hers. 

“Okay, so message received?” 

“It’s a bit boring, isn’t it?” 

Robin scoffed, finally pulling himself up off the table and leaning onto his knees. “Yes, for me, who's trapped here, but not for you.”

Maria checked her watch, “Only forty-five minutes left?” 

He grabbed her elbow and pulled her arm towards his face. “Just about.” 

“Well, I’d like to discuss our- differing takes on the curriculum with you.” She cleared her throat. “To give our students the best chance they have with their learning opportunities.” 

He quirked a brow. 

“Well, for example, you say Disneyfied like it's a bad thing.”

“Because it is.” 

Maria shook her head, “But would you not agree that all fairytales and myths evolved with the times, the elements changing with what was needed?”

A slow smile breached his features. “One could say that.”

“And, well, perhaps what the children of our time need is something a bit more hopeful than what original fairy tales tend to offer?”

“Or, we need to stop babying children, and let them watch things that will actually be beneficial to their mental development.” 

They continued on that way for a time, the argument never actually turning to be about their lesson plans, and even after Mr. De Noir dismissed the students, they continued on until they reached the parking lot. 

“I’m sorry again,” Maria said, knowing it was time to part but not really wanting to. “About the whole detention business, I never intended that.”

Mr. De Noir shrugged nonchalance, “It’s alright, I’ll just get you back.”

Maria twisted her lips to avoid smiling. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be the one across the hall.”

*

There was very little one could do about rumours, and once they did get started, there was not much one could do beyond fan the flames. 

It was rather unfortunate for both Miss Merryweather and Mr. De Noir that one of the students in detention was a girl who had a friend in Ms. Merryweather’s class, who had often made the very keen observation that there was a certain chemistry underlying their quips and hallway fights. 

So of course, as soon as Ms. Merryweather stormed detention, and stayed by Mr. De Noir’s side for the duration, it was only her right to text her friend the developing story. 

The next morning, before class had even begun, all of Ms. Merryweather’s waiting class knew about the circumstances, and even without speaking a word, seemed to be in unilateral agreement. 

*

“Mr. De Noir!”

Robin paused his instruction at the whiteboard, turning back to see one of Ms. Merryweather’s students hanging in the door. 

“Yeah, do you need something?”

“Um-” The girl squeaked, “Ms. Merryweather needed your help in the supplies room. She said something about heavy boxes?”

Robin played with the marker in his hand. That wasn’t the Merryweather he knew. That woman would break her back before asking for his, or anyone’s, help. He put the cap on. “Lex, you’re in charge.” 

There was some grumbling about that decision, but he ignored it as he came to the door, holding it open for the student before shutting it behind him. He watched, rather suspiciously, as she stood by Merryweather’s class but didn’t go inside. When she looked back over her shoulder, he lifted his brows, and she squeaked before ducking into class. Then, when he peered into the windows, each and every head, which had been turned to watch him, snapped back to the front. 

Robin smirked, he could smell a plot a mile away, but who was he to foil their brilliant schemes? 

He wasn’t too surprised to hear the door opening again once he reached the end of the hall, and he was careful not to look back at the sound. It almost made him giddy, and he wondered if this was just the distraction, to get him out of class so something could be done in the ten minutes he’d be gone? Or, if he was walking into the trap.

Ms. Merryweather, he had no doubt, hadn’t played any part of it, as she would never encourage this kind of behaviour. 

As Robin walked into the supply room, he saw no sign of Merryweather, but then there was a sound of surprise, a fluttering sound like a flock of frightened pigeons taking flight, and a louder  smacking that came from the paper closet. Robin turned, just in time to see Merryweather being clouded in stacks of paper as they fell to the ground. 

“Mr. De Noir!” She choked. 

He chuckled, moving in on her and kneeling to start collecting the papers on the ground. 

“You don’t have to-”

“No, don’t worry, I know it was my fault-”

“No! No, I was being-” 

And then the door slammed shut. 

“Oh my god, what did you do?” Merryweahter asked, immediately turning on him to accuse him. “I had the door propped-” 

“I didn’t do anything! It-” Then, Robin sighed. “It’s the students.” Robin stuck his hand in his pocket to pull his phone out, but his pocket was empty, in fact all of his pockets were empty, he would learn, as he uselessly patted at them. “Do you have your phone?”

“Um-” Merryweather made a vague gesture to the little table outside, where he had passed her keys and yes, now that he thought about it, her phone had been there as well. 

“So we’re stuck.” 

“Well- I-” Merryweather looked down at him. “Yes, I guess we are. Fuck.”

“Language, we’re at school.” Robin mocked as he went back to stacking the papers.

“Right, sorry.”Maria shook her head and knelt down next to him, gathering papers and replacing them in the box she had tipped over. 

“You ever learn how to take a joke?” 

Merryweather pursed her lips. “I can take a joke, when it's made between friends.” 

“Oh, that smarts.”

Merryweather looked at him and scoffed. 

“What?”

“Are you implying we’re friends?” 

“Of course not, I’m your mortal enemy.” 

Merryweather cocked a brow, “My mortal enemy? And I’m not yours?” 

Robin smirked. “You don’t get under my skin the way I get under yours.” 

“What am I then? If not your mortal enemy?” She said, with a slight challenging glare.

Robin pretended to give it great thought. “Academic rival?” 

“Oh good, I didn’t think I’d be held in such high regard to be considered a rival.” 

He snorted. 

She smiled. 

“So, when do you think they’ll let us out?” Robin whispered, after the papers were tidied, and they had taken to sitting on opposite sides of the closet, her legs stretched out before her, ankles crossed neatly. 

“Who?” Merryweather asked, leaning forward as she whispered back. Her plan had been sending out a sheet of paper with a note written on it under the door, their only hope being another teacher would pass through and free them. 

“Our students.” Robin cuffed his hand over his mouth. “They’re up to something.” 

She stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?” 

“One of your students came to my class saying you needed help.” 

Merryweather scoffed, “Surely you knew that was a lie.” 

 Robin nodded, “Of course, as soon as she said you wanted my help.”

Merryweather fought a smile, crossing her arms as she looked out to the door. “So why did you come?” 

“I encourage mischief every once in a while, besides I figured they had sent me away to do something to the classroom, not lock me in a closet with my academic rival.” He nudged his knee against her foot. 

“You should give them all detention, they basically got a free period out of us.” 

Robin shrugged, leaning his head back against the shelves. “Who knows? That might be a good thing.” 

It wasn’t until a few minutes before the bell rang that good old Henry came to let them out, an odd and slightly suspicious look on his face. 

*

“Now, I’m not mad, just disappointed.” Maria said, more or less quoting her Uncle. 

She had only been lightly reprimanded for being locked in the closet and abandoning her students, but Robin seemed to, once again, take the full brunt of the punishment, as Benjamin assigned him another week of detention watch. 

“However, as punishment, Mr. De Noir and I have decided to extend your projects.” Maria beamed as her students groaned, she knew just across the hall, Robin was giving the same speech, something they had planned together after Maria closed her office hours, and came to him with a proposition in detention. “We will no longer be only asking you for an original fairy tale, but would instead ask you to perform it in the amphitheatre before both classes.” 

There was a devilish look on her face as her class got uproarious, and she let them settle before she spoke again. “The deadline is now extended to next Friday, however tomorrow I would like a first draft turned in. You may form groups of two to five, choose one fairy tale, and work out the logistics.” 

“The fairy tale we wrote, or any fairy tale?”

“Your fairy tale, Marissa.” Maria smiled. “And since yesterday you all had a free period, today will be a lecture day-” More moaning, “-Please pull out your notebooks, and we’ll begin.” 

*

Saturday, the parking lot was nearly empty save his car. 

Maria parked not next to him, but close, as she popped out, her scarf wrapped warmly around her throat. This new plan was risky, but she felt she owed it to him. 

He would protest of course, and he would tell her to go away, but it didn’t sit right in her heart. So of course, when she marched into the detention hall, Robin looked up and rolled his eyes. He slid off the table, leaving his book behind and met her half way. 

“Here to plot against our students again?” 

“Nope.” Maria said, removing her scarf and wrapping it around her hands, “I’m here to free you.” 

Robin’s smirk softened, “You know I’m on the clock for this and you’re not?” 

“I’m working on grading this morning.” Maria held up her briefcase. “It's just a change of location.” 

Robin rolled his eyes, “You would work on a Saturday.” 

“Yes, and you said you had plans, so go on, go.” Maria attempted to walk him around before he reached out and grabbed her arm. 

“What are you doing, Maria?”

She smiled, “Rescuing the damsel.” 

“Dam- Now hold on there, Merryweather, if anyone’s the damsel it’s you.”

“Oh?” Maria popped her hip, “How so?” 

Robin opened his mouth to list off the countless examples that would mark him as the daring hero, but he rather came up empty. 

“You’re the one trapped in the tallest tower, not me.” 

“I am not trapped here.”

“Precisely, go on, I’m rescuing you, go on, leave. I have dragons to slay.” 

He scoffed. “I can’t, I’ll get in more trouble.” 

Maria shrugged, “I won’t tell Headmaster if you don’t.” 

Robin struggled not to smile. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will.”

“Y’know, usually it's the other way around, the handsome young hero saving the princess.” 

Maria shrugged, “I rather like Cupid and Psyche.”

Then, there was something about the way his eyes lit up at her words that made her heart flutter, her stomach pitch, and her mouth run dry. Had that been a mistake? To imply that they were- that she was doing this out of- 

“This isn’t fair.”

“It’s perfectly fair.” Maria argued, “I was in your debt, now I’m not.” 

He shook his head, “You’re going to get me in trouble.” 

“I thought you liked mischief.” 

Robin smiled, and before Maria could make another comment, he reached out and squeezed her arm. “I still feel like I owe you for this, but thank you.” 

She almost thought he was going to lean down and kiss her, her cheek, ot temple, or her lips, but he turned and went back to get his book and jacket. 

Maria watched him leave, the door shutting behind him, and then the empty air for a few seconds before she glanced at the students, who were doing their best to avoid her eye and trying to stifle grins. 

She cleared her throat and got to work reading the fairy tales. 

*

Monday morning, she attempted to speak with her Uncle again. 

“Really, he doesn’t deserve any of it, and I know you said that you had to set standards, but this is ridiculous! Not even the students get this much detention!” She had started sitting down, but at some point she had gotten up to pace madly to and fro. “I mean it’s not just a detriment to him, but his students! Though not many of his students have taken me up on my offer, they may not feel comfortable with it! And beyond that, there’s usually a very fair rotation for the detention slots, and I think it’s been a while since it was my turn! And the closet thing wasn’t his fault! He only came in to help me, it’s not like he did it on purpose, that’s hardly worth another week of detention!”

“Maria-”

“I would understand if he had locked me in there, but he was trapped just as much as I was!”

“Maria-”

“And we both settled on how to discipline the students who, I already told you, were the real culprits!”

“Maria!” 

Maria jumped, her hand on her heart the other grasping the back of the chair. “Yes?”

“If you would really like to, I can take over some of his detention-”

“Oh really? You will!” Maria raced around the desk, wrapping her arms around her Uncle’s head and neck. “Oh thank you! I felt so guilty about all of it!” 

“Right.” Her Uncle muttered. “Guilt.” 

*

Robin sat on his desk, laughing as one of the students shared a more or less irrelevant story with the class which kind of had to do with fairy tales, when Maria knocked on the door and came into class. 

“Mr. De Noir, do you have a moment?” She asked, and some of the students had the audacity to laugh or gently ‘oooh!’ at his departure. 

He followed Maria out into the hall, mindful to stand in front of her so his students couldn’t get a good look at her facial expressions through the window. 

“I believe my debts are paid.” Maria beamed, “Mostly.” 

Robin cocked his head to one said. 

“I slayed the beast. Headmaster Merryweather said he would take over detention next week.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do- how did you-?” Robin cut himself off with a scoff, she was unbelievable. “Damn, I really was the damsel.”

“Language.” Maria’s eyes flashed to the window behind him, and when he took a look, the students ran away from the window and back to their seats. 

“You didn’t- You really didn’t-” He clenched his hand at his side, tempted to touch her again, tempted to wrap her in his arms and pick her up off the floor and spin her around. Instead, he marvelled at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open like an idiot, and he couldn’t look away. 

She blossomed under his gaze, her cheeks pinkening, her eyes glistening with pride. 

“You’re amazing.” 

*

Miss Merryweather kept Mr. De Noir company for the rest of his detention periods, the students noticed, and word spread very quickly. Some students, rather foolishly, got themselves in trouble so they would have to go to detention, so they could report back.

And it was very interesting how close they sat, and how often they gazed into each other's eyes without speaking, and how close they came to touching the other only to stop themselves before they got too close. 

The reports from detention made their way around, from student to student, until even the teachers heard, and placed their bets. 

“No, they’re both too stubborn,” Ms. Swann said, “Neither will admit to anything until it's unbearable.”

“Don’t underestimate Robin, he’s rather determined, and once he wants something that’s it.” Mr. Turner said. 

“But Maria has much more class than that.” Mrs. Fitzwilliam said. 

“That doesn’t mean she’ll deny herself the pleasure of a man’s company, especially one that looks like him.” Ms. Thomas suggested. 

And, inevitably, word got back to Headmaster Merryweather who was not completely unsurprised by the developments, after all he saw too much of himself in his niece. Falling in love with a supposed enemy was practically a family trait.

*

Maria sat down in the amphitheatre, her students settled and the first group ready to go, her rubric out on her clipboard, while Robin leaned back on the bench behind them, his own rubric off to the side as her students went first. They had a box of props and costumes for the students to use, and yes the girls did fight over who got to wear the pearls, and there was a massive disagreement on who got the sword with each group that came up. Whether or not the story had anything to do with swords. 

They watched each class file in, as they were instructed to come straight to the amphitheatre, and file out once they were done, though Robin and Maria hardly paid attention as they did. 

There was many a giggling, many a stare, and a many whispering that made their way across the classes, but Maria didn’t particularly care to take notice. 

She was too busy trying to ascertain if his knee pressed into her thigh was an accident or if he was doing it on purpose, and if his eyes were on her the whole day instead of any of the performances, and if he was arguing because he really disagreed with her or just for the sake of arguing. But when the final bell dismissed their last class, neither Robin nor Maria rose up to leave. They stayed, seated on the stone benches, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands as she stared up at him. 

There was something so captivating about his eyes when he spoke, something pleasant when his mouth moved, something enigmatic about how he motioned with his hands.  

“Tomorrow is your last day of detention.” Maria said, when an hour had passed and neither had moved. 

“Yes, and you don’t have to storm the castle for me.” Robin looked up at her as she stood to gather her things. “Hermes doesn’t have to tell me all the work you’ve done to make up for it.” 

She felt herself blush, because there it was again, this odd comparison. “Well, one could argue that my three dangerous tasks are complete.”

“Dangerous?” He grinned at the incredulous insinuation.

“Well, when one goes up against a man like my Uncle.” She twisted her face into one of horror and Robin laughed. “Though, I am afraid I will remain his servant forever.” 

“Yes, I suppose going up against him is quite daunting.” 

“Daunting indeed. But-” Maria bit her lip, turning away to look out at the amphitheatre. “Did I manage to fix the rift of my betrayal?” 

Robin stood and took her hand, “There was never anything to fix.”

If any students had stayed behind, they would have seen Mr. De Noir lean down to kiss Ms. Merryweather, and if any teachers had walked by on their way to the parking lot, they would have seen the two running off hand in hand like teenagers, and if Headmaster Merryweather had looked out the window of his office, he would have seen Mr. De Noir press Ms. Merryweather against her car as he kissed her again and again, but no did, and no one saw them getting into their cars and following each other out of the parking lot, and on Saturday, despite his best attempts, Ms. Merryweather came again, but she did not come to rescue him a second time. Rather, she sat with him, and if the students noticed they were sitting too close to one another, or that they held hands under the table, they kept their thoughts to themselves. 

*

Fairytales are some of the most important works of fiction known to man. They offer life lessons, human connection, magic, and some of our favourites: love. 

Not every fairy tale has a happily ever after, not every fairy tale ends with true love’s kiss, but who could argue that the most captivating ones have just a touch of that special magic? Not fairy godmothers, trickster sprites, or devils, but a very human emotion, a lasting emotion, one that resonates and rings throughout the centuries. 

@stabat-mater @theargopriestess @maybeamagpie @hotpotatoburn @lalla0019 @immergladsss

[ashleyh713fanfics]

Dazai X Odasaku!Sister Ch6 and Ch7

Double Post:

Chapter 6: "Why Don't We Go On A Date?"

Chapter 7: "As Long As I Have You In My Life"

Summary: After Dazai's horrifying discovery that he is Odasaku's sister's "lifeline" and "only tie to her brother" the boy tries to give her something more permanent than a sad suicidal mistake like him.

Warning: pm! fifteen year old dazai, Dazai self destructing Odasaku death mentions, mention of torture/cruel training, manipulative behavior from both sides, underage drinking, talks of suicide. I gave Oda's sister a name but you can imagine it as y/n.

(This is chapter six and seven of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Three Part Intro Here: (just cause the first chapter is so long)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A03 Version Here:

Word count: 10k total

Chapter 6:

Osamu..I think you’re a good man. 

Six little words, six little words brought his entire world to a stand still. 

The foolishness of them danced across Dazai’s brain over and over again trying to decipher anything and everything about them only to come up empty. He couldn’t comprehend them, he couldn’t form them into reality no matter how hard he tried. 

So much so, that time passed by in a millisecond, Dazai staring at absolutely nothing, not present in the world at all. 

The bustling laughter of children as they made their way to school, the soft music from the speakers of the nearby shops, the feeling of a soft breeze across his features, none of them registered inside his brain. 

The only thing that did was the weight on his back, both emotional and physical as Asagao’s form slept motionless, unaware of the malfunction she had ushered by saying those six stupid, foolish and dangerous words. 

Just then, his phone started to sound inside his pocket only for the executive to finally look down and pull the object out, the move causing Asagao’s lips to let out a disgruntled groan in the process in order to shift the back of her head further across his shoulder. 

Answering the call, Dazai then heard a very familiar voice, pissed off per usual. “Hey Dazai! Where the hell are you!? I’ve been waiting for you to start this raid for three hours! You better get your sorry ass over here right now before I kick ya into next week, you hear me?!” 

At that, the boy’s eyes couldn’t help but flash with realization. Oh yeah, that’s right. Chuuya and him were supposed to raid a rival organization's hideout today. 

You see, the thing was, that whole little plan had slipped his mind because it was so utterly unimportant to him in every possible way. 

So much so, the bandaged menace lifted an eye in amusement. “Oh yeah, I decided I’m not coming! I got more important things to do. So do your best in my place, kay?” 

Lifting the phone away from his ear, he then waited as Chuuya’s voice shouted straight through the speaker, peaking the audio from how close he was to the device. “Ha?! You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! You can’t just ditch!! What the hell do you gotta do instead?!” 

Dazai then put a finger up to his lips before humming back teasingly. “So nosey Chuuuya, are you jealous?” 

Almost immediately, the hot headed boy replied, disgusted by the notion. “Why the fuck would I be..! 

Yet that’s when the mafioso smirked before reaching forward in order to wrap his fingers around one of Asa’s crimson strains of hair hanging by her back in order to speak suggestively. “If you must know, I’m spending my day with a beautiful woman. So now you see why I can’t be there for your little raid. I’m already gonna have my hands full with something else.” 

The way he spoke those words, it was like he was implying something. Like he had just found another whore to sleep with and break for his own pleasure. And although that wasn't the case this time, Dazai knew that Chuuya would make the incorrect connection for him. 

And a moment later, the idiot man did just that. “You sick bastard! I swear to god I’m gonna..” 

Dazai only cut him off though, satisfied with the rage he had incurred before cheerfully replying back in a devious tone. “Oops! Seems like there's a bad connection. Gotta go, Chuuya! Now go be the good dog you are and capture that organization for me! Kay, byeee!” 

Then before he could interject, the brown haired mafioso quickly hung up the phone before throwing it into the grass with a large sadistic smile.

Ah, that was better. Nothing like Chuuya’s idiot thinking to snap him back to reality. 

Glancing back towards the sleeping Asagao, Dazai then lifted his hands up in order to physically push her head off of his shoulder only for the girl to groan in irritation, still not awake yet. 

Dazai then turned his body only for Asa’s head to fall onto his lap instead, the sudden warmth causing her to snuggle deeper only for the boy to tense at the sudden contact. Did this girl have no shame? She was just cuddling up with a murderer like nothing. 

Forcing himself to relax at the contact, the man then looked at her in exasperation. Damn, this girl slept like a rock. He supposed he’d have to try something else. 

Lifting his hands up, he then slipped his fingers around the large circular frames of her glasses in order to pull them off slowly with hum. “Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. Being so defenseless around a man like me, it’s not a wise decision.” 

She didn’t respond though, causing the boy to then narrow his expression before pressing his forefinger straight in the middle of her forehead roughly and poke the surface only for her to finally flop her eyes open with a whine. “Samu..” 

What was going on? She was so warm, so comfortable. 

Hold on, why was Osamu in her dreams? 

Just then, Asa then seemed to register the situation before she blinked in realization in order to propel her head off of his lap and gasp. “Osu?!” 

Laughing at her confused state, Dazai  then turned his head towards the fumbling girl. “Good afternoon, sweetheart. Glad you could join us today.” 

Asagao was still groggy though, the events of last night not fully registering as she placed a hand to her head. “W-What? What happened? Why was I…” 

Yet Dazai was happy to cut her off, his voice coming out pained and over dramatic as he held his back with a fake little pout. “You fell asleep on me and now my back really hurts. You’re so mean, Asa-channn making me stay here like this. Owwie..It was so uncomfortable!” 

It wasn’t really, but the boy wasn’t about to tell her the real reason why he had stayed complacent the whole time.  He didn’t want her to know that he had malfunctioned beyond basic human understanding. 

That just the mere belief in him had caused the boy to unravel. 

Asa only turned her head though, not really buying his “poor me” act in the slightest. “But you stayed here this whole time? Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

Almost immediately, the girl was confused. She knew Dazai wasn’t a touchy kind of guy, so the fact that he had willingly let her sleep on his shoulder for hours wasn’t in his character. So why had he done it? Why had he allowed such a thing?

And that was the question wasn't it? Why didn’t Dazai wake up, why did such a simple yet foolish statement cause him to lose sight of reality. It was stupid, he was stupid for it. Those words didn’t even mean anything. So why was he so enamored by them all the same?

But of course, he said none of those things, his mind an impenetrable fortress as he only smiled goofily in order to cover up his own conflict. “How could I when you looked so cute?” 

Asa didn’t even blink though, seeing through his facade in an instant. “I’m being serious Osu, you didn’t have to stay here for hours. You should’ve just thrown me off. I’m sure you had something important to do today.” 

That’s what he should’ve done, both of them knew it. Dazai wasn’t the kind of man to just selflessly allow such a thing to happen. Usually he’d just leave them in the grass and abandon them all together.

But this time, for some reason that Asa couldn’t figure out, he stayed. 

Not wanting to talk about such things anymore, Dazai then glanced towards the phone a couple inches away from him before recalling Chuuya’s pissed off reaction. 

And yes, he did have something to do today but letting his partner struggle was way more fun. So maybe this wasn't so bad after all. 

Because of that, the boy simply shrugged before fixing his crumbled black jacket carelessly. “Nothing interesting, but I must thank you, love. You gave me something far more entertaining in return.” 

Not understanding Dazai then watched Asa bat her innocent little eyes and turn her head in return. “And what’s that?” 

Already feeling his lips curve into a smug sadistic smirk, he finished cheerfully. “Why, an opportunity to mess with my favorite dog!” 

In fact, Dazai could already picture the stupid dumbfounded look on Chuuya’s face when he told him that he was ditching. It was music to his ears. Now he couldn’t join the raid, not when he had already gotten such a satisfying reaction from his favorite toy.

And though Asa didn’t fully understand what he was saying, his twisted response didn’t bother her in the slightest. In fact, it was the opposite, the girl thinking he would’ve been pissed after hours of having to be her pillow. 

Brushing the dirt and grass off her skirt, Asagao then pushed her feet to stand before looking out towards the bustling sounds around her. “Well, I’m glad you’re not mad but I guess I should be heading back. I already took up way too much of your time.” 

After this annoying night, the only thing she wanted now was to crawl back in her bed before she died of embarrassment from drooling on her brother’s best friend's shoulder without knowing. In fact, she could already feel the heat emerging to her cheeks at the memory. 

Yet that’s when Dazai paused before glancing towards the girl. “That might not be the best idea, love.” 

Asagao then paused only for the mafioso to grab his phone in order to show her the message he had received just a couple minutes prior. “I had my men stake out the place and it seems like Ango is still there. If you go back now he’ll probably try to drag you back again..” 

Then all at once, she felt her face fall. Oh yeah, Ango. She had forgotten about that stuck up, straight laced, government agent. Damn it, looks like she couldn’t relax like she wanted to now that he was chasing after her again. 

Grumbling to herself, Asa then ran a hand across her face with frustration before shaking her head in exasperation. Just when would he give it a rest? “...Great...looks like I can’t go home after all..” 

She then closed her eyes, trying her best not to show her annoyance before Asa sighed in order to turn back to the bandaged boy with a wave of her hand. “Either way, thanks again, Osu. I’ll let you get back to your illegal activities now.”

Dazai then watched her start to leave, already knowing that she was going to bumble around the city in order to kill time until Ango left. The question was, would she even make it back home with her blurry offset eyesight? Now that was to be determined. 

Just then, last night's events began to play in his mind like some kind of punishment. There was her voice again, mocking him into still silence. 

Osamu..I think you’re a good man.

Just great. First Odasaku was haunting him and now his sister was doing the same. Why couldn’t he get her foolish little statement out of his head? 

It’s not like he was happy about it, it was just a delusion on her part after all. Although now that he thought about it, Asagao seemed to delude herself about everything. 

She deluded herself by hoping that life had meaning, she deluded herself into never looking at the negatives and she deluded herself into thinking her big brother resented her even though it was not true.

But the biggest mistake she seemed to make was picking Dazai to be her constant, her unmovable tangible source of Odasaku’s life. Sure, letters were one thing, they were physical, unchanging, but him? He knew that he wasn’t reliable in that sense. 

Yes, Dazai knew himself better than anyone else. He was fragile and flighty, a flicker in this pathetic life that could burn out with just a slightest blow of air. He was wavering and artificial, and the fact that she had so openly stated that he was her lifeline was something that the boy found incredibly foolish. 

Because he couldn’t give her what she desired, what she needed more than anything. 

She couldn’t ground herself with him, even if she wanted to.

Because Dazai didn’t want to live, he didn’t want to wake up tomorrow and carry on with this joke of a life. And one day he was sure he would succeed in his wish to finally disappear from this world entirely. It was inevitable, and yet Asagao still clung to his physical body simply because she had nothing else to prove Odasaku’s writings. 

And Dazai knew she would be ruined like that, that putting such desperation into an already dead man would result in a cataclysmic detonation beyond human prescription. 

Because of that, the boy felt himself move, reaching forward in order to grasp onto Asagao’s hand and pull her against his chest. “You know, since we are now both suddenly free. Why don’t we go on a date?” 

Asagao only paused though, feeling the warmth from the proximity before turning to look at him in confusion. Did she just hear that right? No, it couldn’t be. “You’re asking me on a date?

Lifting his hands up with excitement, Dazai then spoke back. “Why not! My darling girlfriend has planned two of them already. I think it’s time I do the honors this time.” 

And he thought Asa would jump for joy at that, although it seemed she only stared at him with disbelief, like she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. “I didn’t think you’d care about that kinda thing..” 

Pouting his lips, Dazai then jumped back from the girl in question before dramatically whining back. “How mean, Asa-chan. How could you say such hurtful things to your boyfriend like that? Did you ever think I just wanna spend some extra time with my cute girl?” 

Once again though, Asa deadpanned, not buying his boy-ish act. “Not really no..”

Gasping at her blunt reply, Dazai then shoved his hand over his heart in order to hunch over like he had been shot. “Ouch. You wound me, love! I don’t know how I’ll ever recover now!”

Although that’s when Asagao simply shut her eyes before giving a heavy sigh in order to turn back to the boy with a light smile. “Osamu, I appreciate the gesture but you know you don’t have to push yourself like that for me. I’ve already bothered you enough by going past our agreement and fell asleep on your shoulder without asking. I couldn't expect more.”

At that, Dazai couldn’t help but pause. Ah, she knew he was going out of his character and pushing himself past what he would normally do. What a clever girl, picking him apart like that. He couldn’t help but admire it.  

And though she was right in a sense, it wasn’t about want or not. It was more of a need. The need to give Oda’s sister something more reliable and tangible then just a sad suicidal boy like him, something that wouldn’t fade from her fingertips without warning. 

Because of that, Dazai simply reached forward in order to hold onto both her hands, a new sparkle in his eyes. “Aww Asa-chan, you’re so sweet for worrying about me. My heart has been restored! And don’t worry about the agreement, just think of this little outing as a freebie!” 

Asagao still didn’t seem overly convinced though, the girl trying to decipher his hidden intentions silently as Dazai smugly smiled. Oh, she was working overtime to get into his head, wasn’t she? Too bad he wasn’t going to reveal this little secret. 

And just as the boy predicted. Asa was stumped. She knew he wasn’t being genuine about asking for a date, that he had some kind of plan underneath it all. Hell, the boy didn’t even care about her, that much was already established. So why all of a sudden had Dazai asked for this strange request? 

She was curious, sure, but Oda’s sister still tried to stay strong, knowing she had already burdened him way too much today. Who cares if he was trying to manipulate her right now into something, their agreement was only about the letters. Nothing else. 

And she had already broken that rule tonight. No, she couldn’t break it any further. 

Yet that’s when Dazai lowered his eyes slowly before adding nonchalantly. “Oh, and did I forget to mention we are going somewhere that has to do with Odasaku?” 

Then all at once, Asagao felt her head immediately snap back to his. Wait, he was going to take her somewhere that her brother visited? Damn it, he knew she couldn’t resist that, not when she had been searching for traces of him all throughout Yokohama. 

Dazai on the other hand was smiling like a fiend, knowing that he had her right where he wanted her. From just the look on her face he knew she was squirming with conflict right now. Just the way he liked it. 

A moment later, Asagao replied, her voice slightly desperate. “Where?”

The mafioso then darkened before pushing a mocking finger up to her lips in order to cut off her curiosity. “Ah ah ah, you gotta say the magic words first. Now, let’s try this again..” 

Pushing his fingers away, Dazai then dipped his head down in a dramatic bow in order to lift his hand out to the girl in question, already knowing she was trapped against a metaphorical wall. “What do you say, love? Will you go on a date with me?” 

And for a moment, Asagao paused, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. But the more the silence clung onto the air, the more her fingers began to fidget and twitch with the idea of finding out more about her brother. 

Then all at once, her resolve faltered before muttering under her breath with embarrassment. “As long as you don’t mind..” 

Yet Dazai only shook his head at the weak attempt, wiggling his fingers in front of her before humming back in dissatisfaction. “I need a yes, love.” 

And then he waited, he waited for the submission that was a guarantee. Yes, Asagao was clever, she read him a million different ways but it seemed he still knew how to get what he wanted. And this time, he would win their little game. 

Taking a heavy breath, Asagao then closed her eyes before lifting her hand out to the devious man in question, already knowing she had lost this round. “Yes, Osamu. I’ll go on a date with you...” 

Although before her fingers could make contact with her hand, Dazai immediately closed the distance before grasping onto her hand with an excited cheer. “Yay! Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Come on, let’s go!” 

He then shifted his fingers down to her wrist before turning around in order to drag the poor girl down an uncertain path as Dazai beamed happily, pulling his tamed little puppy along the way. 

And with that, he marked another tally in victory. 

Dazai Osamu: 2  Oda Asagao: 1

----

Chapter 7:

Throughout her blurry uncertain vision, Asagao felt her body pulled towards the unknown as she focused on the solid black mass that had consumed her whole world. And whether he realized it or not, the girl slowly felt the outside murmurs and voice disappear into her own mind. 

Because nothing else but him mattered to her.

Osamu seemed to have that effect on her every time she saw them, Asa always desperate to soak in everything about the oblivious boy regardless of the barriers in front of her eyes. His words, his actions, the way he held himself, the cadence in which he spoke, she categorized it all. 

Which was why his decision to take her on this date was so odd. 

Because as far as she knew, Osu wasn’t that kind of man. He was a cruel, manipulative, mafia executive that only did things out of pure entertainment or for some kind of tactical advantage. 

Yes, her brother was different but Asagao knew that the blood in her veins didn’t fully protect her from Dazai’s real character. 

Which was fine. She didn’t care that he was incapable of emotion and kindness. That’s not why she was here in the first place. She wasn’t that simple minded, and the last thing she wanted him to do was force himself out of that box and make him uncomfortable. 

But it seemed that today he wouldn’t take no for an answer which meant that he either had some other intention with their date or he was pushing himself to do something strange for the sake of Oda. 

Sighing to herself, Asagao then paused as her body collided with the mafia executive, not realizing the man had stopped completely. Oh, were they here already? She didn’t recognize this part of town. 

Yet that's when she felt his fingers reach forward in order to snatch the large circular frames from her face, eradicating her safety net as Asa’s eyes widened in fear. What was he doing? She didn’t want to see the world right now. “O-Osam..”

Although before she could protest, Dazai replaced the object with his hands, pushing her back against his chest in order to darken her surroundings before she could have time to process them. 

Then she heard his voice, sharp against her ear. “You’ll want to fully see this, love.” 

Fully see it? No, that was impossible. She didn’t want to see anything, she didn’t want to decipher anything fully. Then she would see the darkness, she would see the cracks in the perfect facade that life displayed. 

Dazai seemed to sense her distress though, his tone teasing as his fingers pressed deeper across her eyes to show her that they weren’t going anywhere. “What’s wrong, don’t trust your boyfriend? Afraid I’m going to hurt you while you’re defenseless like this?”

He was trying to scare her, to intimate her per usual. But if he thought that she was going to crumble between his fingers then he was sorely mistaken. “You know that’s not why..it’s just..my eyes..” 

Asa then heard him laugh in pure amusement before his bandaged arm brushed against hers in order to lift the surface and place it on an unknown doorknob in front of them. “Don’t worry, darling. I got you.” 

Did that mean he was going to keep her eyes covered for her until they got to where he wanted her to see? But what if he slipped up, what if he let go accidentally or for some kind of joke? What he was asking for required a lot of trust, trust from a boy that thrived on sadistic games. 

But even so, Asa complied, her fingers turning open the door as Dazai urged her forward in order for her breath to lodge inside her throat with each step. She had nothing to guide her, nothing but his body to rely on. 

Just then, his fingers found her wrist before lifting them up in order for her to register a railing as the mafioso hummed back into her ear. “Count the steps, love. There are twenty of them.” 

And so she did, the girl gripping around the railing for dear life as she counted each invisible step in her mind, careful not to trip as her back brushed against Dazai’s body in order to ground herself. 

Finally reaching the bottom, Asagao then sighed in relief only to hear him speak once again, the sound causing shivers to run down her spine. “Good girl, here’s your reward.” 

Yet that’s when she felt the safety of his fingers start to disappear from her eyes, causing Asa to gap in horror. Wait, what was he doing? He hadn’t given her glasses back. Was he serious about her seeing this place with her eyes? No, that was too scary. 

Blinding lights then filled her vision, causing the girl to squint before she couldn’t help but freeze at the very sight before her. And in a millisecond, she seemed to forget her own rule about viewing things from a blurry lens. 

Because staring back at her was a small cozy little bar, the atmosphere warm and secluded with rows of stools and the smell of liquor wafting through the air. 

Wait, she had seen this place before. 

Aggressively shoving her hands into her pockets, Asagao then pulled out the picture that Dazai had shown her last night before her eyes couldn’t help but widen with realization in order to lift the photo in front of the place slightly. 

Her assumption was right, it was a perfect match. 

Feeling any response fall silent in her throat, Oda’s sister whispered. “Is this…” 

Dazai finished for her, his hands in his pockets as he looked at the place in nostalgic sadness. “Bar Lupin, where the picture was taken.”

And almost immediately, Asagao felt her throat fill with emotion in order for her vision to blur with tears only for her to immediately blink them away. 

No, she didn’t want to only see the blurry picture of this place. She needed it to be real, to soak in every nook and cranny into it was permanently etched in her mind. 

Now she knew what Dazai had meant by saying she would have wanted to fully see this place without the barriers of her glasses. He was right, he was so incredibly right. This feeling, these physical floorboards under her feet. They felt so real. 

Her big brother had stood in this same exact spot, he had breathed in the same air and had seen the same view. 

Sure, she had been living in his old apartment for some time but Asagao had no proof that he had ever inhabited the place. 

But with the photograph between her fingers, Asagao knew that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. Oda was here, and now so was she. The idea was so simplistic and yet it brought her so much joy, her hands unable to stop the shake and smile towards the empty bar. 

Then she turned to the supposedly heartless mafioso before speaking through her tears. “Osamu, this is..thank you..I’m so happy..” 

So this is what he was trying to show her? He must have gotten the idea after hearing her outburst to Ango about not having anything but Osamu to cling to. How sweet, he knew she needed this more than anything. 

He always tried to act so scary but he really was like this, huh?

Dazai on the other hand stared at the empty place in silence as a mix of grief and familiar comfort coursed through him all at once. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t come back after Odasaku's death, and yet here he was all the same. 

The memories, the feelings were all so suffocating, he wished he never felt them in the first place. But this was the only place that Dazai knew Odasaku in, this was the only place that he could give Asagao. Because of that, he had gone against his own wishes. 

At least this place wouldn’t fade like himself, and that was enough for Dazai. 

That’s right, now when Dazai finally succeeded to die, when he left this world he knew that she could wallow her sorrows here, she could find her big brother in these walls. 

Now the boy wasn’t the only physical tie to Odasaku she had. 

Yeah, now he could die with peace again without the guilt of destroying the last piece of his best friend that resided in this shitty little life. Did that make him a good person? He wasn’t sure but this was something he felt like he had to do. 

For Odasaku, and for his precious little sister that the man had left in his fingers. 

Closing his eyes, Dazai then tried to wash away the feeling before settling into his usual seat by the bar in order to wave over the girl in question. “Let’s have a drink, love.” 

He then watched as she complied immediately, slipping into the stool beside him only for an unpleasant deja vu to fill his throat. Without her glasses she looked even more like Odasaku, especially from this angle. 

The bartender turned to him immediately, his tone plain. “What will it be, Dazai?” 

Tapping his fingers onto the top of the table, the mafioso already knew the answer. “Whiskey.” 

Then the boy turned his gaze towards Oda’s sister only to rest his head on the palm of his hand with a slight tease. “Well, what about you, darling? Don’t worry, they have apple juice.” 

He didn’t expect her to actually drink alcohol of course. She was just a fifteen year old girl, hardly old enough for liquor.

And hey, so was he but being in the mafia gave him a free pass. Besides, considering his other crimes, underage drinking was pretty low on the list of immoral behavior. 

Yet that’s when Asa pushed her lips together cutely before pushing her hand up in order to shield her hollow eyes and reply to the bartender. “Make that a double, please..” 

At that, Dazai couldn’t help but raise an eye, not expecting her response.“Ooooh, I’m impressed. But your brother would’ve had a heart attack hearing that.”

And he really would have. In fact, Dazai knew Odasaku would’ve definitely shut down Asagao's request for alcohol. Unlucky for her though, the boy wasn’t that considerate about laws and such. 

What could he say? Ango was right, he was a bad influence. 

Two amber colored drinks then slid into view as Asagao lightly traced her finger around the rim with a hum. “Would he? Then he better not find out that I started years ago.” 

Years ago, huh? Perhaps Asagao wasn’t as good of a girl as he once thought. “How scandalous, Asa-chan. Should I tell Ango about that?” 

At that, he watched her scrunch her nose up in disgust. “And what about you, Osu? You’re the same age as me.” 

Dazai only hummed though, knowing it wasn’t the same. “I’m also a criminal, love.” 

Asagao was silent, like she was processing the words before she threw the entire drink into the back of her throat before whispering bitterly. “Yeah well, so was I.” 

The words were so small and yet Dazai heard every symbol before curiosity and intrigue couldn’t help but take up his entire throat. Now why did she have to say something like that? Now he wanted to pry into her mind and pull out an answer. 

And there were many ways to do it, but none of them were savory in any way. You see, Dazai was skilled in manipulation and exploitation. He could seduce and coax even the strongest willed people. 

So trying to make Asagao talk about her life was as simple as blinking for him. 

It didn't matter if she seemed bothered when Ango brought it up last night. He’d get her to talk about it one way or another. 

Lifting his hand up excitedly, Dazai than beamed towards the bartender before waving. “Two more!” 

And as two more sets of liquor appeared in his vision, the boy simply slid them over to Asa with a fake innocence and a smile. “Go ahead, Asa-chan. And don’t worry about the price, it’s on me.”

He then watched Asagao look down at the new glass before picking up the object between her fingers.

And for a moment, Dazai thought he had succeeded in his bribe.

Although that’s when the girl simply closed her eyes before speaking into the glass plainly. “You know, Osamu. You don’t have to get me drunk. I’ll answer any question you want.” 

At that, Dazai felt himself pause before his smile dropped all at once in order for him to change into his true cruel nature. 

Ah, he should’ve figured it wasn’t gonna be that easy to coax her into his plans. He still wasn’t used to that, having someone that could read him almost instantly like a book. 

Although that’s when he truly processed her words. Wait, did she just say that he could’ve just asked her about her life? Interesting, Dazai had never had that before. Usually they shut him down and he had to resort to dirty tactics. 

How refreshing and yet utterly stupid on her part to open up to a man like him 

Parting his lips to reply, he then watched as Asagao quickly downed the two drinks he had given her anyways, causing his eyes to flash with confusion. 

Hold on, she had already figured out his plans to get her drunk and yet she was still going along with that anyways? What a strange girl. He thought she’d just push the glasses away. 

And with no answer to his intrigues, Dazai couldn’t help but speak back. “Then why are you still accepting it?” 

Pushing the glasses down from her lips, he then watched as Asagao paused before answering with a small smile. “Cause if you think I should be drunk for this conversion then I figured I should take you up on that offer.” 

She still wasn’t looking at him though, and Dazai concluded it was because she still felt uncomfortable because he hadn’t given her glasses back yet. It’s not like he minded though. She was really cute when she hid her face like that, all shy and meek. 

So instead, the boy didn’t speak about it, watching her call for another round of drinks before Dazai started his interrogation now that there was a rosy pink color to her cheeks. “Ango called you a hellhound. ” 

Almost immediately, Asa laughed under her breath before swirling the drink between her fingers. “Ah, so that’s what it is. You were right to order those drinks.” 

Dazai then watched as the girl threw back another shot before speaking distantly, like she was wrapping herself in some sort of memory. “The Hellhounds are an elite level of assassins, brought up from birth to be the perfect tools to those that hold their leash. Oda and I were orphans that were brought up into the same faction but because of my different way I saw the world,I was chosen as a candidate to be a hellhound.” 

Smiling bitterly, Asa then lifted a finger up to her throat before ghosting across the skin. “By age five I knew how to run a knife across someone's throat and put a bullet in their brain without them knowing. My ability allowed quick, precise and clean kills. You could say I was a bit of a prodigy, just like you are.” 

She then pushed, her face falling with unpleasant memories. “But the training..was intense...”

And as Dazai listened to her explanation things started to make sense. He didn’t know much about Odasaku before he joined the port mafia. He knew he was a freelance assassin but that’s about it. It made sense that he got those skills from somewhere. 

But try as he may, he couldn’t see sweet little Asagao as a bloodthirsty prodigy like he was. Sure, she had fought him before but the girl never seemed to intend to kill. 

Unless she was holding back on him this entire time.

 Ah, what a sneaky little princess. So hypocritical to tease him about playing around with her when she was clearly doing the same thing. She threw that gun away on purpose and limited her ability use during their fight to make it seem like he had the advantage. 

Now he wanted to fight her for real to see just how scary she could really be. 

Turning his head in curiosity, Dazai then pointed his finger towards her distant expression. “Is that how those pretty little eyes of yours became so hollow and empty?” 

He then watched as she clutched the empty glass between her fingers before the mafioso silently slid the rest of his drink over to her only for Asa to accept it gratefully. 

Damn, the answer to that question must’ve really been traumatic given that she needed more alcohol in response. 

And though most men would’ve changed the subject, Dazai only let her compose herself, silently watching as she closed her eyes before replying. “They made me see the darkest part of the world, they waterboarded me, disoriented me and then forced me to analyze every single depravity that the human mind could conjure up. It wasn’t for the weak of heart and… it broke something in me permanently...” 

Then before she could process it, memories and past feelings couldn’t help but creep up her spine. They were blurry and out of order but Asa got enough to know that her time as a hellhound wasn’t the most pleasant. 

Even now, she could feel the sharp cold chill of the icy tub as her ears drowned out any semblance of noise only to be assaulted with fingers on her face in order to scream at her to analyze the situation before her. She felt the blinding feeling of pepper spray in her eyes and blows to her head as she tried to answer the prompts that her captives had given her. 

She even felt the lingering sensation of cloth around her eyes as they plunged her into pitch black darkness for months on end only to blind her with bright lights and disorient her further. 

Her spine then began to shiver before forcing her eyes back open in order to blankly stare at the amber colored liquid in front of her. “I can’t turn it off anymore, I can’t help but see every fucked up corner of people’s intentions. My eyes catch every spec of darkness, every disappointment. So much so that it hurt to see, still does. I hate it, this thing they made me into..”

And that was the thing she hated more than anything. It wasn’t that those people had molded her into a robotic mold of their perception. It wasn’t that they essentially tortured her into their own design. 

It was the fact that she was now permanently damaged, doomed to live the rest of her life in a sacred manner. She couldn’t look at the world anymore without seeing the bad. She couldn’t escape the sharp headaches and nauseous feelings in her chest just by wishing she was any semblance of normal. 

Some days she even thought about ripping her own eyes out of her sockets, to perfectly gouge them out and blind herself so that she didn’t have to perceive anything ever again. 

Forcing herself to carry on, Asagao finished robotically. “But one day my body couldn’t keep up. They left me to die because I was no longer sufficient and Oda found me. Then he faked my death, hid me away, gave me my glasses so I didn’t have to see anymore and became an assassin in my place.” 

At that, Dazai felt his fingers slip into his pockets before feeling the metal of her glasses in order to pull out the object and place them on the table. 

He had taken them for her benefit but now that the boy knew the full story of such insignificant objects, it didn’t seem right to withhold them anymore from her. 

Sure, Asa had vaguely told him about the reasons for her glasses but now that the details were all laid out, Dazai couldn’t help but look at her with a new light. 

These lenses weren’t just a preference, they were a necessity to her. 

She needed them just like Dazai needed his bandages, and that was something the fifteen year old boy could understand quite well.

 It seemed like they had more in common than he originally thought. 

The girl accepted the glasses immediately, her fingers wrapping around the objects before placing the safe guard around her eyes before smiling softly in return. “And now, I’m free, my big brother gave me freedom.”

Freedom? The term was incomprehensible for the young boy. What did that feel like, to be free? To not be tied down by the darkness of the past? He didn’t know. 

Just then, Dazai’s mind filled with that same twisted mindset he had come to know. What a stupid girl, she was talking about freedom when she was sitting next to one of the most dangerous men in Yokohama. 

She had just dangled her skills and past resume in front of his face so carelessly.

Swirling his finger around the rim of his drink, the mafioso threatened back. “Shouldn’t you be a little more cautious about telling me all of this so easily? I am the demon prodigy after all. I could force you back into that life..”

And he could. If he really wanted to, Dazai knew he could pull her into the port mafia and use her talents for his own selfish desires. She had to have known that. 

But then why was she just spilling such dangerous secrets so easily? 

Asagao only hummed though, his threat leaving her unshaken. “Hypothetically yes, and I’m sure you’ve thought about it at least once or twice. I’m a tempting offer after all. Any executive would jump at the chance to use me..”

Then he watched as Asa narrowed her eyes for a moment before adding lightly. “But unlike what Ango believes, I know you won’t actually do it.”

Wouldn’t actually do it? Now that was a bold statement. He wondered what proof she had for that. “And why is that, love?” 

Although that’s when Oda’s sister turned her body towards him for the first time since their conversation in order to speak with a victorious tease. “Cause it’s not what Oda would’ve wanted.” 

At that, Dazai felt his lips curve into a bitter smile. Ah, she was right. She knew that Odasaku’s blood in her veins was keeping her safe. It was almost like she was rubbing that little detail in his face. Low blow.

For as dark and twisted as his mind was, Dazai knew that Odasaku had spent years trying to keep his little sister safe. Sure, having her in the port mafia would be a great benefit, but it would also ruin everything his best friend had ever worked for. 

And that was something Dazai couldn’t do, no matter how evil he claimed to be. 

Feeling himself laugh under his breath at her correct assumption, the boy then turned his head, playing devil's advocate just for the hell of it. “And let’s just say I didn’t care about that. What would you do then?”

Asagao then paused, thinking about his question before answering back with confidence. “Then I would let you drag me into the port mafia. But the only orders that I'd ever answer and respect would be yours.”

Dazai was certainly taken back by that. Was she serious? He knew her dedication to him was rather irrational but would she seriously put herself back in the darkness for his sake? Would she really disobey her big brother's last request that easily? 

Trying out to laugh off her foolish joke, the boy pushed his hand under his chin before teasing sensually. “I’m flattered, love. So you would be my loyal subordinate then?” 

But there was no hesitation or humor in her response. Only straight laced honesty. “Yeah, cause I need you by my side in order to see my big brother. Subordinate, girlfriend, they are just titles. An excuse, a way to keep each other around. In the end it doesn't matter what I’m called as long as I have you in my life.” 

And try as he may, Dazai couldn’t help the bitter, unpleasant taste that built up in his throat. No, she wasn’t serious. There was no way. Her admiration, her desperation to find her brother, would she really have gone that far just for Oda’s sake? 

He hated it, he hated the very little self respect she displayed, knowing that Odasaku would’ve also been horrified by what she was saying. She didn’t need Dazai in her life. Hell, her life would’ve been so much better without even knowing him. 

And he knew that their titles of boyfriend and girlfriend were a sham but he never thought it would go this deep, that she would so desperately grab onto whatever excuse she could find in order to connect the two of them together. 

Because of that, Dazai felt his mind run wild with possibilities.

In another reality, if that actually happened, if he had dragged Asagao back then did that also mean that Oda’s sister would’ve killed for him? Would she have snapped back to her old ways just in order to please him, to give him a reason to keep her around? 

Didn’t she know how dangerous that was? 

How could she possibly give a demon like him that much power to abuse?

Stretching her arms up in the air, Asagao then gave a goofy smile before beaming towards the boy all at once. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter what we call ourselves. In any universe or reality it would still be the same. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, Osu!” 

She said that so proudly, so confidently that Dazai couldn’t help but allow his eyes to fall back on his drink. How could she be so passionate about him? He was a mess in every possible way. No one wanted to hang around him, and for good reason. 

Their lives were so similar, both filled with horrors and brutal truths, and yet Asagao always wore a smile while he drowned in the pointlessness of it all. How could she do it? How could she feel so free when he was still chained by his own mind even today. 

Because of that, Dazai felt his own tipsy lips move without permission, whispering into his glass with a sadness he rarely let free. “After seeing all that evil, how can you not want to die like me?” 

And then he waited for her response, his shoulders tense and anxious from the sudden spilled murmur before Asagao lifted her head up in silent thought. “Mmm I don’t know. By all aspects that should be the case, right? But I’ve never felt that way, not once..” 

Then her lips formed a lighthearted smile in return. “I guess it’s because I’m waiting for life to pleasantly surprise me. Just like you do, Samu.” 

At that, Dazai lifted his head up in confusion. “How have I surprised you?”

Pushing her hands across the bar in explanation, Asa then replied lightly. “Well, you showed me this place to make me feel better, right? Even though I’m sure it brought back unpleasant memories, you still took me here for my sake..”

And Asagao knew that Dazai could act all he wanted but he had shown his true colors tonight. Sure, he may have used an underhanded tactic to bring her here but he had knowingly done the one thing she needed more than anything else. 

Dazai though, didn’t feel the same way, knowing this date wasn’t as pure as she was making it out to be. The only reason he brought her here was to shift her devotion and admiration to something else, something more permanent than a dead man walking.

Pushing his hand up to his lips, the boy frowned under the skin. “Did it ever cross your mind that my reasons were selfish?”

And for a moment he thought she’d be disappointed, that she’d yell at him or cry once she realized the fabrication he had set up to make himself feel better. 

Although that's when he watched the girl turn to him, her hand to her heart in absolute passion. “So what? Selfish and selfless, those are just small details. The results are the same. Doesn’t change the fact that you gave me such a precious gift..”

Lifting her hand to rest against her head, Asagao then gave the stunned boy a toothy smile of glee before adding wistfully. “But then again, nothing could ever be as precious as you, Dazai Osamu.” 

And with those words, Dazai’s eyes widened in order to find himself slipping back into the very same malfunction that had plagued him just a couple hours ago. 

Precious? 

Him? There was no way. He was just a pathetically depressed kid. He wasn’t anyone, especially anyone precious. She was the precious one, she was Odasaku’s beloved sister and he was..well..he was nothing of value..

So much so, the boy tried to wipe the compliment away, not knowing how to take it. “You’re drunk, love.” 

He then watched as Asagao’s lips turned into an adorable little pout in order to whine back to him through her rosy pink cheeks. “Whaaa, am not! I was being serious! I really do think you’re precious to me, even if you don’t feel the same. And anyways, It takes a lot more than..one..two..three..a bit of booze to knock me down!” 

Dazai then watched as the red haired girl looked down at her fingers before failing to count the number of drinks she had ingested only for the boy to snicker under his breath. 

Oh yeah, she was definitely drunk. 

So much so, the boy lifted his hand up before patting the top of her head like a little puppy in order to break her concentration. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna burst a blood vessel if you think that hard.” 

Seemingly jumping back to life, Asa then lifted her finger in the air. “The point is..!” 

Her eyes then began to daze in order to slowly drop her head with confusion. “What was the point again..” 

Yet before Dazai could answer, Asagao was back at it, her expression changing back to one of passion in order to lean closer on her stool. “Oh yeah! The point is, why would I wanna die when there are still so many opportunities for the world to be beautiful? I don’t wanna miss one by giving up so soon..” 

Leaning even closer, the girl then gasped as she slid out of the stool completely only for Dazai’s strong bandaged arms to catch her before she hit the ground. 

Asagao didn’t seem to care though, her eyes showing through her glasses in order to lift her finger up and boop his nose with a slight giggle. “And neither should you, love”

Then the girl seemed to gasp in excitement before completely slipping out of his arms in order to turn to the small radio next to the counter. “Ah! I love this song! Turn it up Mr. Bartender!”

Skipping over to the open area, Asagao then began to bounce and dance to the song in child-ish glee only for Dazai’s eyes to travel down to the hands that once held her before balling his fists with a bitter chuckle. 

What was she saying? He shouldn’t give up on life? Foolish girl, he gave up a long time ago. It was too late for those kinds of words. She should’ve known that. 

How dare she put such pointless and toxic thoughts inside his head like that. 

Lifting his head to look up at the carefree girl, the mafioso then watched in stunned silence as she twirled and giggled across the bar without a care in the world. 

She looked so free like this, so unchained and open. He wondered how it felt, to radiate such genuine happiness and to be unequivocally herself. Because Dazai had never felt happy, not in that kind of way. 

He used happiness as a tool, as a mask to further his manipulation. He knew the concept, sure, but actually conceptualizing such a thing? He had realized from a young age that it was impossible for someone as broken like him. 

But Oda’s sister, she seemed to radiate the emotion with her entire soul, she knew the wonder and mystery of it. And Dazai couldn’t help but be jealous of such a fact, knowing he would never experience such a human emotion to the level that she was. 

That’s when his eyes couldn’t help but flash with painstaking realization. 

Oh, he had it wrong this entire time, didn’t he? Dazai had connected the similarities between their backstories, their intelligence, their manipulation and their necessity for his bandages and her glasses. 

But looking at her now, the boy knew they weren’t anything alike. 

In many ways Asagao was like a sun, her light always exuding positivity and hope with every response. She was unreachable, a fragile yet strong flower that was just barely out of reach in every possible way. 

And Dazai, well he was a black hole, unable to find anything of value but the darkness that always consumed every part of his twisted fucked up soul. And while she was unreachable, he was a ghost, flickering in and out of this life, unable to touch anything or anyone. 

They shared so many similarities and yet Asagao still saw the good, she saw the very best the world could offer while Dazai couldn’t even find one beneficial thing around him. 

He almost wished that they didn’t weren’t so alike, simply because then the boy could excuse their lives as plain nativity on her part. 

That’s what he thought all that positive bullshit came from in the first place, thinking that she was just a spoiled and sheltered girl that Odasaku had protected. 

But she wasn’t, she had seen just as much evil and pain as Dazai had. And yet, her responses were so vastly different. She had managed to keep her humanity while the boy had descended into a full blown monster. 

And Dazai would be lying to say he wasn’t both incredibly jealous and yet so genuinely intrigued by her in every way. 

No, that wasn’t the right word. 

He was enamored, he admired her resolve more than anything else. What a beautiful, enthralling sight. It was intoxicating, and enchanting in every way, seeing how she defied the corruption of the universe. 

Although that’s when the bartender interrupted his thoughts, his eyes also gazed towards Asagao in question. “Dazai, who is that woman?” 

Shifting his body to rest his back against the bar, Dazai then smiled to himself before answering honestly. “She’s Odasaku’s sister.” 

The bartender then felt himself freeze before looking at the girl in a whole new light. “I can see it.” 

Lowering his eyes in admiration, Dazai then felt his lips curve a bit wider. Ah, she’d be so happy to hear that. “Me too.” 

And he really did, he saw Odasaku in her so clearly, especially now. It was in her carefree attitude, it was in the sense of unbothered calm she always had when she was around him. If only Asa realized just how much she brought her big brother to life by just merely existing.

Lifting his head to the sky, the boy then closed his eyes in order to speak to his old friend. Oh Odasaku, why did you give me to your sister like this? Don’t you see I’m no good for her? Did you really trust me not to corrupt her?

Yet that’s when he heard another voice enter his mind only to watch a drunken man try to make his way up to Asa only for Dazai to darken his eyes in order to quickly jump off his stool and lift an arm out to the girl in question. 

Asa then felt his bandaged arms wrapped around her waist a second later, pulling her into his chest only for the girl to look up in her drunken daze. “S-Samu?” 

She was then met with his endless brown gaze, staring at her in order to slip his hand into hers with a light chuckle. “Can’t leave my girl hanging, now can I?” 

Feeling his head tilt towards the unwelcome presence, Dazai then pushed her body closer to him before glaring wordless in silent threat for the depravity that lay behind the drunken man's eyes. 

The stranger then stumbled away in order for the mafioso to hum in acceptance before his hands traveled to his “girlfriend’s” hips as she hummed to the music. “Didn’t think the great executive liked to dance.” 

Smiling under his breath, Dazai lowered his head, meeting her eyes. “What can I say, you’ve inspired me.” 

Yet that's when Asagao’s lips turned into a frown before turning away from his gaze with a mutter. “What am I gonna do, Osu? I can’t go home..Ango is gonna say annoying things again..” 

At the mention of Ango, Dazai felt his throat tick with unpleasant memories. Ah, that’s right. Ango was still staking out her place, hoping she’d come back. Well, it wasn’t like she could show up drunk either, then he’d really have a conniption. 

But it also wasn’t as if he could let the clumsy glasses-wearing girl out free in Yokohama. She couldn’t even find where she was going sober, which meant she definitely wasn’t going to be okay like this. 

Which only left one option left. 

Asagao then felt his lips brush against her ear before she heard Dazai’s next words, the meaning causing her entire body to shiver and her eyes to widen all at once. 

“If you really have nowhere to go then how about you come to my place, sweetheart?” 

[strawberrykisseslia]

"i wish you were a boy."

☆ pairing: vanessa shelly x fem! reader

☆ part 1

☆ tw: hurt, no comfort only near the end, slight fluff, not proof read at all, the images do NOT belong to me. only the absolutely trash good fiction.♡ use of y/n once

☆ cw: 1.1k

☆ genuinely dk why it took me so long to write this but this song saved the whole small series, thank her ( no jk, im dead serious )

☆ how i love this trope. ( LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER )

☆ heavily inspired by Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan ( PLEASE I LOVE HER SM, i think this is a normal reaction to her? )

☆ yall... did i make reader toxic? now that i've come to think of it... I HOPE NOT OH MY GOD

☆ also so so sorry if it looks messy!!! i didnt write it on Tumblr but i kinda like it, thoughts? please give me thoughts about this whole thing because i'm genuinely not sure how to feel about it, would appreciate it!

It has been some time since you and Vanessa actually had a right conversation. always passing each other quickly though the house, awkward greetings here and there but nothing close to a “how are you?” or “how was your day?” nothing.

you had been thinking about moving out as fast you can but didn't really find anything good right now. especially because your work was taking more and more free time away from you. which led you to just wanting to sleep instead of doing anything.

you noticed though how vanessa stayed out longer, even on her breaks. she was really not the one who would go out even. not to stay out more than two hours.

you guessed this whole thing had an effect on her too. right? at least she was regretting it. but oh, how you craved to talk to her really again. at least she used to be your best friend. your favorite person. and you were hers. it was true.

you didn't really know but she thought of you. a LOT. at work. at the bars when she tries to numb her feelings for you. in her car on her way to somewhere. even at home, when you two are basically only some meters away.

as much as she was thinking of you she realized how much you mean to her. and how much she loves you.

at first, she didn't want to accept it. it felt weird and new to her. she was never in love with a girl before.

she knew you were hurt, deeply. but she didn't know how to cheer you up right now. she never got comforted in her life at all, of course you did comfort her. but she didn't know how to comfort someone.

though, one night something changes. she puts every confidence in her and tries to talk to you.

-

she gently knocks on your door around 10pm on a Tuesday night. you are laying in your bed all comfortable, watching some shitty tv show while eating your favorite snack. you feel your heart beat a little bit faster as you climb out of the warm and make your way to the door.

“vanessa?”

she looks down, fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt. she is almost silent for a minute.

“i am… so sorry, (y/n).” she manages to speak up. almost crying.

you sigh and look down at your feet.

“i wanna make things right between us. after all… we were once best friend?”

you nod, yet you can't forget how she said ‘i wish you were a boy.’

“vanessa…” you whisper.

“i know i messed up. it was a lot. but please, give me a second chance,” you look up at her. she is already looking at you.

“i want to be friends again— i’m sorry… but i have no feelings for you.”

you can only nod at that. you should have expected this outcome. she could never be in love with another girl. yet, there were times where you hooked up. however… you both were really drunk.

vanessa exactly knew she was lying to herself but somehow she couldn't tell you how much she loves you. even, she didn't know why. maybe it was because she always wanted to be the perfect daughter for her terrible father. you heard her cries about him so many times, you couldn't even count on your two hands. deep down in her heart, she knew she will never be enough for him, yet you told her countless times that she doesn't have to be.

“i am not too sure, vanessa… i'm sorry.” you answer to her.

“after these past weeks of us ignoring each other..,” you don't really wanna bring up the thing she said because you know, you would break down. “both of us acted childish, but it's taking it's tool out on us now,” you look down. “and i want someone who doesn't only hookups with me when they're drunk.” you say the last part much more quietly.

she nods. she is unable to speak up. her stomach flips with every second. she prepared herself for the first really, but deep down she was never prepared enough for this.

“i understand you.” after some time she manages to talk.

you don't know what's going on inside you. your stomach is walking up and down in you and your heart is loud enough for the neighbors to hear it. you don't know if you wished for vanessa to be understanding or to fight for you.

she doesn't wanna push you past your limits. she doesn't wanna make you cry again.

the fact you craved to talk to her again like old times yet here you are saying you don't wanna get close to her again.

“well, i hope everything goes good for you.” she speaks up and gets you out of your thoughts. you can hear she is about to cry depending on seconds. you only nod.

“goodnight.” she says and turns around.

“you know…,” you starts she faces you. “it's better to talk about feelings then for them to drown.”

she nods in agreement. “yes, i know…” she hesitantly reponds. deep down you know that applies for you too, but wasn't that kiss enough to tell everything to her?

-

the next week you move out. you finally found a house that you can afford and it looks exactly like how you want it to. after that, you never talked to vanessa. in fact, you even started to slowly move on and start to search for love. not always thinking about needing a relationship but if you find the right person then you'll go for them.

for vanessa… well. she thought about you too much. she missed your presence in the house so much. your voice, your smiles, your laughter, your cooking. everything.

though, after two years or so, she found love. or maybe someone who would look after her when needed someone. a man, of course. vanessa never spoke about you. tried to not think of you after her marriage yet… almost every night she thought of you. the pictures of you on her phone, she often looked through them.

in the meantime you found love too! a really sweet girl. she was your whole world. your everything. you never really thought of vanessa. maybe some times. but this girl showed you colors no one has ever.

-

sometimes you fantasize about standing in front of vanessa and telling her everything you felt when you moved out and wanted to tell her, you told her so many times how she would end up in a loveless marriage if she doesn't speak about her feelings at least a little bit more often as time went on. at least to you. someone she used to call her best friend!

still, these were meaningless little fantasies you had maybe two monthly.

only if you knew.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Sonya! (Imagine, for a moment, that Tumblr Staff actually fixed the bug that means I have to screenshot and tag you @sonyawix for replies.) I missed you!

Jasper's just there realising that a couple of decades of training and practice with the Cullens was no match for a tiny teenage girl who looks at him like he's the second coming. She did more for his self-esteem in one night than anyone has done for him since he was human.

Jasper's softer in STL and his trauma has already been sorted, organised, and filed in his mental storage unit so he just has to simp over worry about Mary-Alice. Mary-Alice has the trauma conga-line but it gets pretty soft for both of them starting next chapter.

But it's why Jasper chapters are usually easier to write.

And listen, we all switch hyperfixations. I read a whole bunch of MCU fics that had Correct Vibes but Incorrect Takes, and beautililies had to stop me from writing MCU fic before I worked on Jalice fics. Also the idea I am carrying 70% of your Jalice experience is fucking wild. What do you want? I feel like I need to give you something because 2024 was not my most active year ever.

My little Mabel has recovered from the infections she had well, but decided to keep things interesting and acquired an ear infection which has since been upgraded to a double ear infection because what's more fun than a lot of credit card debt? Even more credit card debt! She is why I can only stare longing at Coach bags and not own fun stuff like that.

And honestly, I join you in solidarity that my sister and father are also Shitty Fucking People. Sometimes, people are rancid, and we just need to salute their bullshit and carry on our merry way.

It is law that if you bring up Anathema, I post something. I picked this scene WIP because Alice being a dramatic teenage girl is somehow so funny in my head? I can't wait to get to a scene where she's dramatic in front of Jasper and he's just "...you're adorable, you know that right?" And she's like, "absolutely not."

But for now, Alice makes a small scene.

“This is to never get back to the Clearwaters,” I could hear Freddie saying to Charlie Swan in a low voice. “Any of them. I trust you, Charlie.”

Charlie sighed. “Fred, I’ve known you a long time, and I don’t like this at all. What is so important you have to meet with them alone, without Sue and Billy knowing?"

Silence, and I was tempted to creep up the hallway to be able to hear better.

“… This is about Alice and her well-being. If… I have reason to believe that if Sue, Harry, and Billy knew more about Alice’s … health and genetic make-up, they would be deeply unhappy."

That was most likely an understatement. I had a feeling that if Sue found out that I was biologically half-vampire, I would be persona-non-grata in the Clearwater household. There was a fifty-percent chance that Harry would hunt me for sport, honestly. His aim with a shotgun was second-to-none.

//

Dr Cullen had brought his wife, and there was something almost funny seeing them in our home - they were both dressed in very stiff, fancy clothing, standing in the entrance looking awkward. I was in the kitchen finishing the washing up in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt; both Freddie and Charlie were still wearing work clothing.

The apartment was still mostly in the late 60s style from when it was built. Lots of brown and yellow. Freddie always intended to renovate, but we never seemed to get around to it - moving all the books would take us days, and we’d have to stay downstairs. It was cozy up here, and if we made any changes, it would be to clean out the third floor.

“Hello Alice.” Mrs Cullen smiled so warmly at me, but I felt oddly shy, offering a little wave as I put plates back into the cupboard.

“Turn on the coffee maker, love, before you go,” Freddie said, and I got the message that this wasn’t going to be a meeting I was included in. I wasn’t upset about that; somehow Dr and Mrs Cullen were far and away more intimidating than Jasper was. Somehow the golden eyes and the pale skin that looked so right on him made me nervous around them.

Thankfully, Dulcie was having dinner with her brother’s family tonight. It meant we could have this meeting at home and she’d probably bring home left-over dessert. Hopefully that really good blueberry donut thing that Mrs Stanley usually made for Dulcie’s birthday.

It also meant that whilst I had been told I wouldn’t be joining in on the meeting today, there was no one in the house that would check to make sure I was wearing headphones and watching movies on my laptop instead of eavesdropping for all I was worth. And in my defence, I had to know what Freddie was telling everyone so I didn’t mess up the story later on. It was just planning ahead.

//

“He can read minds?” I shrieked, giving myself away instantly.

Charlie Swan swore, sloshing his coffee in surprise, as the rest of them spun around to look at me in the hallway.

“Alice,” Freddie groaned but I didn’t care that I would be doing extra cleaning this week or whatever as punishment.

A girl’s mind is private. There are things happening up there that die with me, okay?

Things like me contemplating the logistics of having sex on a gurney now that I’d met Jasper and realised he was a foot and a half taller than me, and probably 100lb heavier.

Or the fact that whilst my visions hadn’t been instructional, so to speak, they had given me a certain amount of reference material to reflect on. I might never have been a Girl Scout, but I do like to be prepared.

And the idea that one of the Cullens could mind-read and had probably told the entire family that a good fifty-percent of my brain power was solely dedicated to what I had seen of Jasper’s body in my vision at any time was… not ideal. Not at all how I planned to integrate myself into their lives. I was aiming for lovable future daughter-in-law, not mouth-breathing creeper.

“Edward considers the contents of everyone’s mind private, unless harm would result in keeping it secret,” Mrs Cullen quickly reassured me. Please. I had seen Leah and Seth together; I knew what siblings were like. There was no way in hell that Jasper hadn't been informed that I had absolutely noticed he was ripped when he helped me up.

“I’m taking a lot of emotional damage learning this,” I said slightly hysterically. “Can he hear everything?”

“Only when he’s present.” Was Dr Cullen laughing at me? He looked amused.

“Alice,” Freddie sounded tired. “There are brownies in the downstairs freezer if you want some dessert.”

Huh. It was bad if Freddie was bribing me with the catering supplies.

“That would help,” I said, trying to walk through the kitchen to get a knife with some kind of dignity. “You understand why I would be uncomfortable with a teenage boy reading my mind, right?”

“I think we’re all on the same page about that,” Charlie said. He didn’t look amused.

"Alice, I really don't think there's anything in your head that Edward Cullen would worry about," Freddie said, obviously trying to sound comforting and mostly made me want to slam my head against a wall.

"I've had unmonitored access to the internet since I was eleven and no boyfriend! Or girlfriend! There's plenty up there I don't want Jasper's brother knowing!" I snatched up the cake knife and looked over to see Freddie looking like he needed a drink, Charlie Swan looking the most uncomfortable I had ever seen him - and that included the ass-injury incident - and Mrs Cullen trying very unsuccessfully not to laugh at me.

"And now I've made it worse. I'm calling Cynthia!"

It's not the fact that my father was a vampire that makes me a freak. I manage to do that all by myself.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[cws: violent ableism and fantasy racism, anti-indigenous racism mention, dehumanization, abuse culture, implied SA/CSA which did not happen but sure would have looked like it to outside parties.]

-

every single time i see someone talk about how the ancients (more specifically the amaurotines, because they always mean the amaurotines) weren't that bad--sure, their society had a few little problems, but overall they were responsible and compassionate and knew what they were doing, and had a good thing going that shouldn't have been interfered with even internally--i think about them turning the violent death of a grieving coworker's disabled daughter, the events of which they mock him for, into a funny story to share around the water cooler.

i think about how someone in a high position of authority, who was in charge of the legal aspect of her existence--of deciding whether she should be euthanized or not, in fact!--ignored blatant red flags for her being sexually abused when he was fully in a position to help. obviously, as fucked as what was happening with meteion was that was not the case. and hermes, i love you. but holy shit is 'haha yeah i made a little girl servant i have complete power over, and didn't register or approve her existence with the government like i'm supposed to. which also would have involved people looking her over. because she's my pet project :)' a REALLY bad look. people should have been investigating him, and the person whose primary job it was to investigate him went 'oh okay, you're an authority figure and i know you so i'll take your word for it :)'

i think about how that authority figure barely remembered she died or even existed, and thought the idea that she could be murdered or should be grieved at all was an odd little thought her quirky dad was self-harming by making such a big deal out of. i think about the fact that these people preen about their ~vigorous intellectual debates~ and ~constructive free exchange of ideas about society,~ and yet after untold thousands of years this idea is such an utterly unthinkable fringe position that supposedly no one has ever heard of it.

(no shade on hythlodaeus enjoyers but holy shit i do NOT like this man, and this is one of the biggest reasons why. jesus fucking christ.)

like i'm sorry but no amount of pretty parks and sharing and being polite and paying lip service to responsible creation, and speaking nicely to children (sometimes) and meaning well (sometimes), and just generally not being a bunch of malicious mustache-twirling cartoon villains, changes the fact that amaurot was a society of cruel evil selfish bastards who had the power to treat the world like their personal toybox and get away with it. and who are also strongly implied to have been colonizers long before the final days, no less. and it horrifies me how it sails over so many people's heads that the entire point of the Nicey Nice Everyone Shares and Gets Along and is Happy is that it's absolutely fucking terrifying how effective they clearly were at stifling any meaningful accountability, opposition, or reform.

(don't get me started on the take i keep seeing everywhere that the amaurotines are analogous to real-life indigenous genocide victims, oh my god do NOT get me started, jesus wept)

like. this isn't just annoyance over incorrect or kind of insensitive takes. the vast majority of the time when i see people try to defend the ancients, they say with their whole chests a mountain of absolutely horrible things--implied or mask off--about real life issues, and seeing things like this reduced down to 'having a few little problems, but really what society doesn't' is just. upsetting. it is really upsetting and i wish it was not such a constant, and that i could find more people actually talking about the nature of amaurot's fuckery without at best getting immediately derailed into SO YOU'RE SAYING THEY SHOULD ALL BE DRAGGED OUT AND SHOT IN THE STREET, IS THAT IT

all this is to say: setting aside any wider-scale events, it boggles my fucking mind that just for that passage alone the fandom as a whole wouldn't cheer hermes on if he started setting people in his vicinity on fire lmao

[likeastars]

Yandere!AU and Ada's no good, very bad day.

For @incorrect-nevermore that told me that otherwise she would take the band!AU in the divorce >:(

Warning: this gets fucked up. Pretty bloody and horny because they are my blorbos and they have every disease 💝💖💕💕💗💝💖💘

~~~

Annabel has an horrendous bite etched onto the skin.

That's not the first thing she notices, obviously. That's reserved for Lenore, slouching on the other woman's shoulder, her face cut by a tiny grin and her brows a bit scrunched, as she whispers and giggles in her hear.

But then the bite becomes visible and. Wow. (It's a bad wow. It's a very bad wow and she feels sick)

She can see it from a distance, ugly and red, sprouting from Annabel's unbuttoned blouse and hastily thrown on jacket. There are still droplets of blood slowly making their way from her pulse point down her shoulder.

And Montresor knew it, and even if Montresor was the worst of the worst he knew it and he said it, that between them they had something absolutely and truly and incomparably

Fucked.

But Montresor has been gone for a long time now, and nobody knows how or where or why.

(Students say that if you go near the ex-magazine on the first floor you can still hear his screams. She thinks they should stop talking about it because otherwise Annabel will make them)

Ada tries to make peace with the situation as quickly as she can: she just has to make her way down the corridor, enter her room (good God she doesn't want to know the state her room is in) and act like she hasn't witnessed the most unholy thing in her life.

Then she locks eyes with Annabel.

And she feels like swearing for the second time that evening.

The blonde gets a bit of a crease on her forehead, but she leisurely makes her way towards her, like it's alright. Like it's normal.

She laughs with Lenore, and the dark-haired outcast throws a "hey Ada!" In her direction. Her tone is kind (she is always kind, even with cowards like her) but she looks... weird. She's still leaning heavily on Annabel and she feels like her hears are there only to capture her every word and every breath and her eyes to track and drink and worship every movement of her body.

She looks drunk.

Drunk on her.

"You're just the woman I wanted to see, love! I wanted to discuss a little... situation with you." Lenore snorts and Annabel stops breathing for a second just to bask in the sound.

Ew.

"Can't you wait until tomorrow?" A glare. "I-I know that if you sought me out you must have something important to discuss but..." she forces out a yawn as one last desperate attempt to just go to sleep and forget this nightmare of an evening. "I'm pretty tired and I'm afraid I wouldn't give it the attention it deserves." She cracks out an apologetic smile, for good measure.

The crease in Annabel's forehead is more evident now.

Ada is not keeping count of the swears anymore.

"Bu- but, obviously, what you have to say comes first!" It doesn't. It really doesn't and she has to bite down her lip to not let the tears spill.

Annabel, luckily, smiles. Ada hopes.

"Good!" She says, then she claps her hands like Ms. Poppet before she gives merits. "You see, my darling pet here," she pops a bit the p and Lenore nuzzles into her a bit more, "was telling me all about your recent attempts at... befriending her. She even mentioned a striking collaboration between the two of you in the "Mistery Manor" and..."

Her expression crumples.

"I don't like it."

Fuck fuck fuck FUCK they have sorrounded her. While spouting sugar coated words they have sorrounded her and she feels her breath become heavy heavy heavy and there is no

goddamned

way out of their grasp.

She dies tonight. Of that, she is sure.

(And has been sure of for a while).

"Calm down love!" Annabel's hand on her shoulder feels like poison seeping under her skin. Her smile is so fake she feels like puking.

"You see, my pet is really attached to her little group of friends." Annabel caresses Lenore's cheekbone as she talks, "and as much as that irritates me," she's fucking scratching it now and Ada feels herself go paler, because Lenore is loving it.

"I would do anything, anything, to keep my pet happy." They are looking in each other's eyes now.

Annabel takes a drop of blood from Lenore's cheek and looks at it like it's a treasure.

Then she licks. It. Off.

"So," she keeps going why does she keep going "say it."

It isn't an order. It's divine judgement.

Lenore talks for the first time in this insane conversation, asking: "are you my friend, Ada?"

And Ada thinks and thinks and thinks of Montresor's growls as he said to stay away from Lenore, of laughter, of Morella's worried eyes and of Annabel's freezing glare but she also doesn't.

This life, or death.

She begs, between the tears and the sobs, blurting out: "yes! Yes- sure, without doubt, I care for you so much Lenore I-"

BANG!

The bullet crushes her skull and bludgeons her brain and Ada falls on the floor cracking what was left of her head in a disgusting, apocalyptic, and final

CRUNCH.

It was the wrong answer.

Ada is no more.

The other orbs it the forest tell her what happened next, because they are eyes and they are ears and they are all.

They tell her that Annabel worriedly cupped Lenore's face, with tender hands still dirty of blood, and she asked: "but wasn't she one of your little playthings, Lenore?" And that Lenore threw her gun away and gently took those killer hands in hers, correcting her,  "Friends, my darling." then curing the thunder of anger the correction caused with a kiss on the sweet skin of her wrist. "I love my friends a lot, and you know that." A peck on the forearm, "I would die for them," on the shoulder, "kill for them." on the neck. "But for you, Annabel Lee,"

She nibbled on the soft soft skin of her ear. "I would burn the world down."

Annabel ended up backed against the wall of the corridor, her boots on Ada's cold fingers and her breath ragged.

Their mouths were so close they were burning while their eyes were already tasting what was to come, when Lenore whispered:

"She, was neither. She wasn't worth a single crinkle of your brows."

And Ada has been mocked many times, but that was maybe the one that cut the most.

They kissed, voraciously. Like animals, touching and biting and scratching, hands getting hungrier and hungrier, and bodies rowdy and loud in a tango of damning love.

Then the orbs, that were all, that saw all, that witnessed wild monsters and an even more monstrous academy, start shivering, and hesitating.

They tell her, in what feels like a whisper, that while the women were undressing, the spirits saw their backs, in that hall.

Haunted backs, they say.

They were full of red from cuts, and blue from bruises, and a sickly, rotten orange from badly healed burns. Words were scarred onto their skin, and they looked like wedding vows.

Then Lenore and Annabel retreated into her room, and the spirits refuse to tell her more.

[baileypie-writes]

Ok this one is interesting so any pretty cure girl of your choice with a big sister reader where the reader finds out that her sister is a part of pretty cure and decides to help them because they won't let anyone hurt her little sister at all and the villains are absolutely scared of the reader because the reader just has that scary big sister energy and the reader is not afraid to teach the villains why they shouldn't mess with her

A/N ~ Sure! I decided to go with Cure Coral, because I thought she would go well with Reader’s energy. Hope you enjoy!

~Not on my Watch~

Sango Suzumura/Cure Coral + Big Sister!Reader

~~~🪸~~~🪸~~~🪸~~~

Fandom: Tropical-Rouge! Precure

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Reader: Female

Relationship: Familial

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG

Synopsis: You just found out Sango is a Pretty Cure. Despite this, your big sister instincts are still intact.

Warnings: Cringe, Reader threatening a child(Elda), Reader throwing rocks in said child’s direction(not aiming directly at her)

(Reader would never actually hurt a child, she’s just trying to scare her. Though, I still don’t condone her behavior.)

~Masterlists~

~Tropical-Rouge! Precure Masterlist~

~~~🪸~~~🪸~~~🪸~~~

Sango sat across from you, a look of guilt and embarrassment printed on her face. She fiddled with the hem of her frilly skirt as she avoided to look you in the eye.

You found out. You knew that she was a Pretty Cure. You saw her transform and fight with her friends. After the battle, you dragged her back home, and demanded she tell you everything. So she did. And now, she awaited your response, with her friends standing to the side.

You sat in your chair, arms folded. All that she told you was marinating in your brain, and you almost struggled to believe it. But after seeing the girls summon a giant pink elephant, and having it power kick a monster, you realized it was probably all true.

“So,” You began. Sango and her friends jumped, nervous to hear your response. “you’re super heroes?” Sango nodded, still avoiding eye contact. “And you fight those monsters to save the Mermaid Kingdom?”

“It’s the ‘Gran Ocean’ actually.” Laura cut in, clearly offended by your incorrect naming of her home place.

“Right, right.” You half-apologetically replied. You looked the pink haired girl up and down. “So, you’re a mermaid?”

She chuckled, before magically growing a blue tail without warning. “Yes. And a beautiful one at that!” She held up her tail, waving it at you. “Wanna feel?”

“Uh no thanks. I’m good.” You refused her offer, slightly uncomfortable, and very taken aback.

“Humph. Suit yourself.” Laura huffed.

Finally, Sango looked up at you. “Are you mad at me?” She asked, mumbling.

You sighed. “No, I’m not mad. Just disappointed. Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you trust your big sister?”

“Of course I do! It’s just… Pretty Cure’s supposed to be a secret. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. And I didn’t want to put you in danger either.”

You smiled. “I guess that makes sense. But you don’t have to worry about my safety. It’s my job to worry about yours.” Sango smiled too, and rolled your eyes at your classic overprotectiveness. “Which is why, from now on, I’m coming with you on your fights.”

“What?!” All the girls shouted in unison. Sango shot up from her seat, about to argue with your statement. But before she could form the first syllable of your name, an explosion was heard in the distance.

Everyone looked out the window, and sure enough, there was a Yarane-da.

“Twice in one day? That’s new.” Asuka said.

“Let’s go girls!” Manatsu ordered. Everyone nodded, and made their way out of Pretty Holic, and began heading towards the Yarane-da.

You tagged along behind them, hoping to go unnoticed by Sango to avoid argument. But she heard an extra set of footsteps, and stopped in her tracks.

“(name), please go home. You could get hurt!”

“Remember what I said earlier? You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But-“

“Hey!” Asuka interrupted. “Let’s leave the sibling quarrels until after the battle okay? (name)’s already here, so it’s too late to do anything.”

You smiled smugly, as your sister sighed.

~~~~

It was obvious when you arrived at your destination, because there was lots of destruction. There were also people lying on the ground, completely uninterested in running away from the danger, or doing anything for that matter. You remember being informed earlier about motivation power being stolen, so you assumed that’s what was going on.

Your attention snapped back to the girls when you heard them shout something along the lines of “Tropical Change”. Before long, they were in their Pretty Cure forms. You’re sure that you’d never get used to seeing Sango with that much hair.

“Finally, the Pretty Cure are here! What took you so long?” You heard a high-pitched voice say. You looked up to the direction of where it came from, and saw a strange half-shrimp-half-child thing. Next to her was the Yarane-da, which was in the form of a plate. You and everyone’s reflections were looking back at you on its shiny surface.

“Who’s the kid?” You asked Sango.

Said kid turned towards you. Her expression changed to a nervous one, and she ducked behind the edge of her floating boat thing. “And who are you? You look much too lame and boring to be a Pretty Cure. Not to mention scary…”

You huffed, annoyed by the girl’s bratty voice and behavior. “I, in fact, am not a Pretty Cure. But I’m a strong ally. And you better not do anything to hurt my sister!”

The girl-shrimp snickered mischievously, putting on a brave face. “Oh? Or else what? You gonna hurt me?” She puffed out her cheeks, and put on some puppy eyes. “I’m just a little kid, you know. You wouldn’t hurt a little kid, would you?”

“If you hurt my sister, then yes, I definitely would.” You bluntly stated without hesitation.

Her cute, innocent expression shifted into one of fear. “What?”

The Pretty Cures’ eyes went wide in shock, and they all slowly craned their heads in your direction. But you payed them no mind. Your eyes continued being locked on the girl’s.

“Yeah. I won’t let anyone hurt Sango. I’d fight anyone and anything to keep her safe! Even a weird shrimp-child!” You shouted without shame.

Sango was absolutely embarrassed. She was hunched down slightly, and her hands were covering her face, which was beet red.

“You’re mean!” Cried the girl. “Get her, Yarane-da!”

As commanded, the Yarane-da began walking towards you. But you weren’t scared. Well, not that scared. In fact, you had a plan.

You darted at the Yarane-da with full speed. You jumped, and collided with its center. Being a plate and all, it wasn’t super heavy, and knocked down pretty easily. You stood up, completely pinning it down. But you knew that just your weight alone wouldn’t be enough to keep it down. “Girls!” You yelled to the Pretty Cure. “Stand on it!” They followed your order, running over and joining you.

“How about we finish this thing?” Minori, ah, Cure Papaya requested.

“Sounds good! Back up, (name)!” Cure Summer told you, gently shoving you away.

You did as she said, backing up many feet. You watched in amazement as they did their power move a second time that day. This time, you laughed as the big elephant completely destroyed the Yarane-da.

“What? How did you beat it that fast? No fair!” The shrimp girl whined. She then proceeded to flop on her back, and throw her hands and tail up in the air while screaming; throwing a tantrum.

“It’s like I told you; no one messes with my sister! Not on my watch!” You yelled up at her.

The girl got up. Her face was scrunched up in anger. “You’re so mean! Just wait until I tell the others!”

“Go ahead and tell them! I’m not scared! Anyone who messes with Sango will have to go through me!” You said. You picked up a few rocks from the ground, and proceeded to throw them in her direction. You weren’t actually going to hit her, of course. You just hit her floating boat thing. But that was enough to scare her.

“Eek! Okay, okay, I won’t tell! Just don’t hurt me!” She cried over-dramatically. She then floated away to the direction of the ocean. You could hear her crying “She’s scary!” as she did so.

When she was no longer in sight, you turned to the girls. You wore a proud smile, both for you and them. They de-transformed, and ran over to you. Manatsu was immediately cheering. “You were so cool (name)!” You chuckled as she jumped on your back, nearly knocking you down.

“You weren’t actually going to hurt her… were you?” Minori asked, concerned.

“Goodness no! What kind of person do you think I am? I was just trying to scare her.” You responded.

“Well it worked. She ran with her tail between her legs.” Asuka said.

“She didn’t run, she flew. And she doesn’t have legs.” Minori stated.

“You know what I mean…”

You all laughed. But that’s when you noticed Sango was standing off to the side, away from the group. “Sango?” You asked. “What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t have to do that.” She mumbled. She was looking off to the side, avoiding eye contact.

You smiled, and walked over to her. You stopped just about two feet in front of her, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, I did. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if my little sister got hurt.” You pulled her in for a hug. Sango didn’t reject. In fact, she hugged back. But not without a playfully annoyed sigh. You could practically hear her roll her eyes too.

“I know. Thanks.” She said.

After a few seconds, you let go. The other girls were standing off to the side awkwardly. You laughed, feeling bad for making them watch you and Sango’s sibling moment. “So!” You clapped your hands together, about to declare your idea. “How about I buy us all some Tropical Melon Bread? To celebrate our victory!”

The others cheered in agreement. You turned back to Sango, giving her a small smile. “Let’s go!” You said, before taking off running.

“Hey, wait! Don’t leave me behind!” Sango shouted, before trailing after you. A grin crept onto her face as she attempted to catch up. You could be overbearing at times, but she knew that this was just you being the best big sister you could be.

~~~🪸~~~🪸~~~🪸~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[wosemi-sama]

SICK DAY?!

contains: akikoha, akito acting like its the end of the world over a cold, mentions of being sick, crackfic ithink thats what theyre called, no proofread we die like men, the 2nd worst wosemi-sama fic ever, akikoha, akikoha, akikoha, did i mention this contains akikoha already

ty @satansbiggestkinnie 4 telling me 2 make my incorrect quote a fic! c:

akito's heard practically dropped to his stomach upon reading kohane's text. she's... she's sick. she's probably dying, you know?

yet, he wouldn't let his dramatics ruin vivid BAD SQUAD's practice today, so he ignored the lump in his throat and approached an and toya, who were chatting away as they waited for kohane's never-to-come arrival.

even as akito walked towards where an and toya were sitting, that pesky lump in his throat wouldn't go away. without kohane at his side as they sang their hearts out along with their friends, his life was practically without meaning. there was no point if kohane wasn't there. but he shook it off and told his other two unit-mates the situation.

predictably, an and toya were also disappointed. "awww, poor kohane! i should stop by with some soup." an said, cheek resting on her palm, her heart feeling pity for kohane.

"that's a shame. we'll just rehearse as usual without her, right?" toya asked. "i mean, i guess so..." an paused and thought to herself. "but we sound so put together with her!"

an huffed before coming to her final conclusion. "let's go ahead with practice! we still need to work on our next performance, y'know!" an stood up from the stool, putting on a more enthusiastic smile on her face compared to her sorrowful frown from two seconds ago.

toya, an, and akito would then proceed to continue on with rehearsal. but to akito, there was kohane-shaped void that wasn't being filled. and he thought an and toya thought that too. the vibes were off without kohane there, and an was a lot less confident for some reason.

after that sunny afternoon's tiring rehearsal, akito was tired. he feels as if he never gets to see kohane, only during practice, performances, and weekends. kind of sucks when your girlfriend goes to a different school across town. right now, what akito needed, was to see kohane.

knowing her, she'd tell him to not come so that he wouldn't get sick, but akito would still try to visit even if she had the plague. despite that, akito decided to shoot his shot and send her a text.

oh, kohane. how sweet you are. you deserve the absolute world.

akito, like the loser he is, clutched his phone in his hand as hard as the bones in his fingers could let him. he knew she'd say know yet he was still upset. he settled on heading home and trying to forget about it. he was pretty sure it was a small cold anyway. but what if it was something else? something more serious kohane didn't mention as to not worry anyone?

as you can guess, akito was unable to forget about it on the walk home. the only thing he could think about was kohane stuck in her bed, sneezing and coughing the day away.

as he walked in to his house, he shut the front door behind him and dropped his belongings on the floor next to him. all he wanted to do was flop onto his bed like a ragdoll.

almost like clockwork, his big sister, ena, left her bedroom and came downstairs to leave at the same time akito came in. oddly enough, akito just stood there after dropping his school bag to the floor, an angry look on his face with nothing but kohane on his mind.

ena decided to match his energy and stand there staring at him as well. they both stood at the entrance for about thirty seconds. ena didn't understand why he was acting like that. she had just thought he was sleeping while standing like horses in wooden stables do.

to test that theory, she decided to poke him and see what would happen.

"akito." ena said, poking his cheek. with that, it seemed like akito had been almost revitalized. "that's what kohane used to call me..." akito muttered under his breath.

"that's because that's your fucking name." ena snapped akito back to reality, his head high. "what do you mean "used to"? did she die?" she asked, still nudging his squishy cheek with her index finger.

"she's," akito gulped. "sick..." he rubbed the cheek ena poked him on with his knuckles. "seriously? that's it?" ena raised an eyebrow.

she turned around to leave the door, a small "tch..." escaping her lips as she left. seriously, he was so dramatic. the door slammed shut, and now akito was alone in that hallway.

akito dragged himself upstairs to his room and up to his bed, until he finally collapsed into his sheets. fully clothed, also.

tomorrow, kohane would be feeling better and healthier than before. he just knew it.

[sammysamstuff]

Ok but couldn’t Hannibal just love Will for he was? Why did he do the therapy and kept trying to force Will to kill and to become? Will’s becoming Hannibal kept trying to make him a killer why couldn’t he just love and accept Will for who he was? Why could he only love Will if Will killed with him abd became his murder husband or whatever

Hiya. With all due respect, there’s a few incorrect assumptions on your end. Let me try and clarify - I’ll provide canon examples further down:

1) Hannibal never turned Will into a killer - Will was already a killer, and enjoyed the sensations that it brought him. Hannibal simply helps him understand and accept that. With that understanding came Will’s change, his own acceptance of his dark nature.

Canon makes Will’s killing instinct and darkness very clear in various instances and to other characters also, not just Hannibal: for example, the FBI turned down Will’s application due to his unstable nature, he didn’t pass the psychological tests needed to become an agent. Alana had never felt comfortable being alone in a room with Will, she knew something was going on with him. Freddie Lounds was right about Will literally from day 1 - she’s annoying as hell, but she was right.

There was always something off with Will’s mind and personality and it was obvious to others too, not just Hannibal.

2) Hannibal absolutely loves and worships Will for who he is. The only thing is, Will Graham was faking a whole persona for a long time, wearing a mask until he met Hannibal and started therapy. It’s with Hannibal that Will finally drops the person suit and fully reveals his true self: a cold-blooded killer. So it’s not that Hannibal didn’t love the “Episode 1 Will Graham”, he did! Like Mads Mikkelsen said so himself, it was love at first sight for Hannibal. The only problem is,“Episode 1 Will Graham” is not the real Will Graham. It’s a mask, a person suit.

Here’s 4 examples that come to mind where we see the unveiling of the “true Will Graham”:

1st meeting at Jack’s office

When Hannibal meets Will for the 1st time in Jack’s office, it’s quite clear to him from a psychiatric POV that Will Graham is a) not comfortable in his own skin; b) is incorporating a persona “autistic-like, hostile, introverted, avoiding eye contact” to keep people away and to keep his own dark nature hidden; c) Will Graham lives in fear, he’s afraid of his own empathy- like Hannibal said Will’s mind is “shocked at the associations”. Upon meeting Will only once, Hannibal immediately understands that Will is ACTIVELY hiding his true self behind a façade - Hannibal detects a killer, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Will just doesn’t know it yet, or doesn’t accept it yet. Hannibal read him like a book, which angered Will and made him storm out of Jack’s office “you won’t like it when I’m psychoanalysed”.

2nd meeting - breakfast at the motel/Will kills Hobbs

Sparked by love and curiosity, Hannibal pursued Will by bringing him breakfast and volunteering to go with him to investigate the Shrike case, which leads to Hobbs’ being killed by Will (all in a day’s work 😂). Upon meeting Will only a 2nd time, Hannibal promptly stated that he sees Will’s true nature: “you’re the mongoose I want under the house when the snake slithers by”. Criticise Hannibal however you like, but he’s a damn good shrink: again Will is caught off guard by the accuracy of Hannibal’s statement about him. Shortly after, when they meet Hobbs, Will brutally kills him. Later in therapy, Will tells Hannibal “I don’t consider Hobbs my victim, I consider him dead” and “I liked killing Hobbs”. So it’s with Hannibal that Will feels comfortable enough, for the 1st time in his life, to start openly unveiling his true personality and how he really feels about killing people.

Killing Randall Tier

When Hannibal is bandaging his hands after killing Randall Tier, Will confessed to him: “I’ve never felt as alive as I did when I was killing him”. It doesn’t get any more honest than this.

Dinner with Chiyoh at Lecter Castle

During dinner with Chiyoh and upon meeting her for the 1st time too, which is so interesting, Will is very clear and honest about his relationship with Hannibal and his own self-awareness: “I’ve never known myself, as well as I know myself, when I’m with him”. Will is confessing that before meeting Hannibal, he’s never known himself. Ever. How powerful and absolutely beautiful is that confession??? In his 30-something years of life, Will Graham has never known who he really was. He does now. It was Hannibal presence in his life that allowed that self-knowledge.

Conclusion:

Throughout the show, we start learning that Will is indeed a killer, that’s his true nature, he likes the power that comes with it and the violence, but he’s conflicted about it. Hannibal’s goal is simply to help Will embrace who he really is, not turn him into something he’s not. Will also corroborates that Hannibal is the one who fully understands him and the person who allowed his own self-knowledge.

Hannibal loves the real Will Graham, in all his glory, he’s only ever wanted to love the real person, not the person suit, not the mask. That’s the difference. The same way that Will Graham loves Hannibal Lecter the Chesapeake Ripper, not Dr Lecter, the person suit.

[ghostofskywalker]

hi <3 can i request more of platonic bucky x reader pls? maybe how their friendship started and how they became so close? the blurb you wrote for them is so cute 🥺 thank you!

hello!! you absolutely can, i'm not sure if this was exactly what you envisioned but i really enjoyed writing it :)

words: 1,100

summary: you thought that everyone in the compound knew not to touch your favorite coffee mug, so when it starts disappearing more often, you decide to get to the bottom of the situation.

prequel to this fic || bucky barnes masterlist

First Come, First Serve

Everyone in the compound knew not to touch your mug. Well, it wasn’t exclusively your mug, but it was the one piece of kitchenware that you used every single day. It was the perfect size for what you wanted, it was painted in your favorite shade of your favorite color, and it fit perfectly in your hands as you sat and enjoyed your favorite hot beverages in the morning. And everyone had seen you with it enough times that they tended to avoid using it altogether.

Until one day you noticed that it was gone from the cupboard, and eventually you found it sitting in the dishwasher, clearly having been used for someone’s morning coffee. You were fine of course, it wasn’t your piece of property to begin with, but after having spent so much time where it was always at your disposal, you started to wonder why things were changing now of all moments.

It didn’t happen every day, but little by little you could tell that you weren’t the only one using it. And your curiosity got the better of you, so that observation became something of an investigation, a way to see who also had an affinity for your favorite mug in the entire compound.

You watched Wanda first, you knew that the two of you shared a similar love for your favorite color, but whenever you saw her drink tea or make some for Vision she always used a pair of matching white mugs, decidedly different from the one you had noticed in the dishwasher the day before and the one you were used to using every day.

After that theory was disproved, you thought Steve might be the culprit. He always woke up before you and most of the time, he had already finished his morning coffee and workout before you had even pulled yourself out of bed. But one morning when you staked out the kitchen (you set your alarm for about the time when you knew Steve liked to eat breakfast and you checked to see what mug he was using), you found that this hypothesis was also incorrect, and you were back to square one.

At this point, you were going a little bit mad. Of course various “logical” explanations crossed your brain, such as the one that this was not the work of just one person but rather each person in the compound using the mug once or twice, making the crime a here-and-there thing. But you still couldn’t shake the idea that it was just one culprit, so you kept investigating, even when it turned up no leads.

Eventually your suspicions were confirmed, when you happened to head out to the compound’s kitchen in the middle of the night needing a drink of water, and you were shocked to find out that you weren’t the only one awake at this hour.

The mug, your mug, was sitting on the island, full of what you assumed to be a cup of chamomile tea and steaming slightly. And once you registered who had their hand curled around it, you weren’t too proud of your next words.

“It was you!” A little angrier than you originally wanted to sound, there was no mistaking that you were annoyed, and Bucky Barnes looked like a deer in headlights as he registered what you had just said to him.

“I’m sorry?”

“The mug,” you said, pointing at it on the counter, sitting there like it was somehow taunting you with the explanation so simple it should have been high up on the list of possibilities. Although he had been living in the compound for upwards of six months at this point, Bucky Barnes was still the newest member of the team, and it was more than likely that no one had briefed him on the mug situation when he first moved in. It was a complete coincidence, that he had a natural tendency to fall into a routine and a shared affinity for your favorite color, hence why the mug you had long considered to be “yours” was now showing up dirty more often than not. “I’ve used that mug almost every single day that I’ve lived here, and usually everyone leaves it for me,” you explained. “I was losing my mind trying to figure out why it was never there when I wanted a cup of coffee or tea, and I didn’t realize it had been taken up by someone else.”

“I didn’t mean to-” Bucky said, his eyes growing wide as he stared at you. “No one told me that everyone had their own mugs.”

Shit. You hadn’t meant to alienate him, of course he wouldn’t have known. You didn’t even know him that well, and you had already botched your chances of a good first impression. “No, it’s okay,” you said quickly, hoping it would wipe some of the guilt off his expression. “I’m sorry for my outburst, I just wasn’t expecting to solve this mystery at two o’clock in the morning, that’s all.”

“From now on I’ll pick another mug,” Bucky said.

“You don’t have to, it’s not like there aren’t others in the cabinet.”

“No, if this is your favorite I can pick something else.”

“But clearly it’s your favorite too.”

Now the two of you were locked in a challenge, neither wanting to back down. It continued well into the night, with you sitting down next to him at the island, sleep long forgotten. As you started to talk more about other things, you realized just how similar the two of you were, and soon you were laughing together like you’d been friends for years. When it was finally time for you to go back to bed (your body was like two seconds away from a full shutdown), you had a completely new outlook on Bucky Barnes.

That friendship only grew a few days later, when you walked into the kitchen one morning to see a box with your name on it sitting on the counter. Inside was what you thought was “your” coffee mug, but it soon became obvious that this was another one, based on the note tucked inside, written in slightly scrawly handwriting.

Found a couple extras at the store today, with the help of Steve. Now we both can enjoy the best mug in the compound, without any fuss or worry.

The (Accidental) Mug Thief

You couldn’t help but smile as you read the note and held the mug in your hands, knowing that you had just found a best friend and kindred spirit for life.

- the end -