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revolutionarywig · 9 months

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Frev locations compile

Thought of compiling a list of frev significant locations so it can help with recommendations for anyone who happens to be travelling/visiting! This is only done to my knowledge and not a complete list, please feel free to suggest if you happen to know more locations that I completely missed!

so here is the frev pilgrimage list! Long post warning.

(Note: The items are not in any particular order)

(Note: I typed this post up a long time ago but couldn't finish, a lot of thanks to the people who helped out on contributing information and your patience with me.)

Musée Carnavalet (Paris)

This one is very obvious, it is a must go for seeing a collection of frev related artifacts and paintings, including Couthon’s wheelchair, Robespierre’s hair, the most iconic portraits etc. Also its FREE.

Panthéon (Paris)

You can see the statue of the National Convention deputies. It doesnt have too much related to frev directly, but Rousseau and Voltaire (and Carnot…..) are interred there

La Conciergerie (Paris)

If you want to see the Deseine bust of Robespierre, but cant go to Vizille, there is a copy of it here within Paris at the conciergerie. It is the place where most frev figures as well as Antoinette spent their last monents.

Musée des archives nationales (Paris)

(June 2023) There is a temporary exhibit featuring frev rn which I highly recommend (also its free to go so like GO)

But beyond the temporary exhibit, I believe there are still a few things in permanent collection (Robespierre’s note book page, Antoinette’s last letter in prison, Comte d’Artois’ letter etc), including the famous 9 thermidor table that Robespierre supposedly lied on. the museum is free to visit.

Père la Chaise (Paris)

@robespapier wrote a better post on navigating the cemetery. It helped me so much with finding the graves of Lebas, Elisabeth and Eleonore Duplay! Thank you so much for the guide!

Rue Saint Honoré (Paris)

the current address of the Duplays household is 398 rue saint-honoré, which is now next to a louboutin store…. There is a commemorative plaque there indicating Robespierre’s residence there. Im not sure about going inside the residence….There was construction when I visited and the door was open, heres how it looks on the inside.

SJ’s bust (Paris & Angers)

I have not visited either of the two locations yet, but you can find that white bust of Saint-Just (that seemed to be modelled after the pastel portrait in the Carnavalet) in either Petit Palais (Paris) or Galerie David d’Angers (Angers). @orpheusmori has posted some Petit Palais pictures here @robespapier has posted some Galerie David d'Angers pictures here

Marat sign (Paris)

i have an image of this plaque sitting on my phone, I forgot where it was located until @orpheusmori helped me track the location of it! It is in the Odéon area and should be in the small narrow street with the back side of Le Procope. It commemorates the location as an important area during the French Revolution as well as the place where Marat established his printing shop.

The front of the same building also has another Marat plaque! I didnt know about it before thank you @orpheusmori for finding and contributing the photo! This one is above an Jewellery store (Amour de Pierres) https://maps.app.goo.gl/8X9zgKYpMiLJcULq7

Olympe de Gouges sign (Paris)

Once again, i have a photo of the plaque proving its existence, but I took it years ago and i dont remember where it was exactly.... It was all in the Odéon area, it shouldn’t be too far from the other….

Danton statue (Paris)

there is a Danton statue! Right outside the Odéon metro! You cant miss it. Also the placement of the statue is where he once lived.

Procope (Paris)

Its a really old cafe frequented by a lot of philosophes as well as many frev figures. There is also a bicorn from Napoleon inside. Right now its still a restaurant establishment, and its difficult to visit unless you eat inside….which is expensive…. However ! This whole general Odéon area is full of other frev landmarks (some more mentioned below). Including the metro station which has a bust of Danton.

Versailles revolutionary room (Versailles)

Beyond the royal family, there is a room dedicated to a lot of major Revolutionary Army generals and battles. Theres that one painting of Lafayette if u into that

Musée des armes/Invalides (Paris)

It has a significant collection of military artefacts from the French Revolution and its a really good resource for armory researches. The museum also has a sword that belonged to Lafayette, as well as a sword belonging to Carnot during the Directoire (image below)

Louvre

The Louvre does not have a lot relating to the French Revolution but it has a few significant paintings and a lot of David’s work. One of the Death of Marat copies produced by David’s studio should be in the museum, as well as a painting featuring the battke of fleurus (with SJ cameo)

Tennis court (Versailles)

Near the palace of Versailles you can find the room where the deputies swore the famous oaths. It is free to enter, although last time I went it was undergoing construction, hopefully it should have finished by now.

Musée de la Révolution Française (Vizille)

If you can go to Vizille… GO TO VIZILLE! The easiest way by transport would be to stay at Grenoble then take one of the buses that runs between Grenoble and Vizille. It is a whole museum dedicated to the revolution (and it is free) and the park is really pretty. This is where you can find the statue of Marat,

The Deseine busts including dear Bonbon,

And DJ Saint-Just.

Also special thank you to @citizentaleo for taking me there, I would’ve otherwise been lost in the French mountains lol, thank you!

Maison Robespierre (Arras)

You can visit Robespierre’s residence in Arras. It is possible to visit the inside, but it has a very specific and short opening hours.

I wasn’t able to go in since I was only in Arras for a few hours….But I got to attend a conference by Hervé Leuwers aaa (He is very sweet and I learned quite few new things from the presentation, but thats post for another day)

Robespierre metro stop (Paris suburb)

There is in fact, a Robespierre metro station on line 9! Not much beyond name but at least some credit to him! Alas it is not exactly within Paris and just on the outskirt. (Oh and there is also Voltaire)

Cordeliers club (Paris)

I dont have much information on what happened to the original location of the Cordeliers club and how it was modified, but the location is part of the sorbonne campus now i believe. I'd be very curious if anyone knows more information on this.

Place de la Bastille (Paris)

The Bastille is of course not there anymore, but the ground around the square and including the metro stations near by have traces/marks of where the old prison would have stood.

(and yea the picture was taken during a manif)

Pavillon de flore (Paris)

The pavillon attached to the Louvre and next to the Pont Royale is the Pavillon de Flore, which is where the Committee de Salut Publique worked.

Jacobin club (Paris) Alas the original convent in which the Jacobin gathered is no more and replaced by a commercial centre instead (Passage de Jacobins) . There is a sign however recognizing the place for what it was.

Place de la Concorde (Paris) Originally Place de la Révolution, there is a plaque remembering the executions that took place here near the obelisk.

Maison SJ (Blérancourt) I have not been to Saint-Just's house yet, because it is very hard to commute there without a car. But it certainly is still there and (I believe) maintained by the Saint-Just Association.

Catacombs (Paris) According to wikipedia....The bone remains of many revolutionaries buried in Cimitière Errancis (which has a plaque indicating it in the 8th arrondissement, according to wikipedia) are transferred to the catacombs, including Robespierre, Danton, etc. The catacomb is roughly organized chronologically but there is obviously no sign indicating which bone it actually is.

Cluny La Sorbonne station (Paris) It is on metro line 10 and the waiting tunnel is decorated with signatures of prominent French figures. It doesn't have any actual frev artifacts, but it looks cool and you can spot Robespierre, Danton, and Camille Desmoulins' signatures on the ceiling.

Louis le Grand (Paris) The school that Robespierre attended is still under the same name and still in use as a school! (i've reached the image maximum alas i cannot add more images...)

And that is all I can think of so far! There is surely a lot more that are out there (including outside of France). Once again, please feel free to mention if you know more frev landmarks that I missed out on. And to whoever happens to be travelling I hope you find this list helpful to start with.

#french revolution #frev pilgrimage #frev list #resource

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pyrrhocorax · 3 months

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Re: Sweden, Norway, and Denmark's Japanese dialects in Hetalia (and potential implications to their characterization) (with briefer notes about Fin and Ice)

Thanks to @nordickies for being the spark that lit the fire to write this post. This information also personally has informed some of my personal takes on the Nordic 5 for over a decade now, so I hope it is useful. A lot of this was more common knowledge back in the livejournal days of the fandom.

Disclaimer: my Japanese is limited and by no means do I claim to fully understand all of the cultural complexities surrounding this topic. I will try, where I can, to back up my claims with at least somewhat credible sources especially since I am someone who is not Japanese in origin either ethnically or culturally, however I DO know more than the average person would because I have lived in Japan, was exposed from my practical birth to the culture and language waaay more than is typical due to me living overseas, and I have studied the language on an elementary level in several academic settings. I am by no means an expert (I am a wildlife biologist by trade), but all of this is done in good faith, and if you do know more than me (especially since I am limited in my ability to get access to academic texts right now — nor am I going far out of my way to find those, as this is a meta post about Hetalia of all things and I am not going to do a whole giant thesis about this for one post), feel free to correct me and/or send me further resources, as I want to convey as accurate of information I can as possible. Part of my motivation for making this post was to spur conversation and hopefully have others who know more than me contribute to the ongoing conversation, to which, I encourage those who read this post to check the notes for any further updates. Another note that I also do not originate from a Nordic country, so there may also be additional layers people from those countries may be able to add. Thanks! Let's begin.

*********************************************************** Like several characters in Hetalia, the Viking Trio speak in unique Japanese dialects that further make them distinct and characterize them in Japanese. Sweden speaks in a Touhoku dialect, Norway in the Tsugaru dialect (which is a specific type of Touhoku dialect), and Denmark speaks in Ibaraki dialect. The Ibaraki dialect is sometimes seen as belonging to the Touhoku dialect group or the Kantou dialect group, and the classification is debated. Generally, Touhoku accents are characterized by slow speech, the slurring of words together, and the muttering of words — as well as being associated with rural country folk (Kumagi 2011, direct PDF download). This dialect is often translated into English as a redneck/hick accent and drawling speech — and as those who speak it are often characterized or stereotyped as unintelligent folks from out in the sticks. Kumagi cites Inoue (1977) as saying that Touhoku dialects are "degraded at the bottom in the Japanese language" scoring low on "intelligence and emotion-related associations." One American English rough equivalent (not localized, but in terms of reputation in U.S. culture) by my best estimations would likely be Appalachian dialects, which are also stereotypically characterized as being a hillbilly, unintelligent, and rural accent also featuring drawled speech and often truncated speech (source). Like many Touhoku dialect speakers in Japan, Appalachian dialect speakers often hide, mask, or reduce their accent, especially if they relocate someplace outside Appalachia, in order to seem more credible to others, as it is generally seen as an “inferior” dialect of American English in the wider culture (personal/family lived experience, but also a good radio piece on it here). The other way Touhoku dialects are translated in media are as Upper Midwest or Northern Plains dialects of American English (not the most credible source, but a lot that is on here that I can confirm to be correct). This characterization is likely a more accurate candidate for the Nordics (and may be why Hima chose this dialect group for them), as many immigrants from Nordic countries settled in the Upper Midwest/Northern Plains (source, personal experience living in this region for a lot of my life). Touhoku dialects are also a more northern dialect group, which geographically coincides with the Nordics being, well, northerners!

(Map of Touhoku dialects regionally) I have not been able to find any information re: if Sweden speaks any particular type of Touhoku dialect (or if it is more broad), but I will talk a bit about how his speech was transliterated in early scanlations before moving on to the other two. Because of how slurred/more truncated/less intelligible Touhoku accents generally are (and remember, Den/Nor/Ice did not make their appearance until well after Swe/Fin did!), likely early translators decided to chop off letters/make Sweden's speech seem less intelligible in order to convey that to readers. Unlike Norway and Denmark, Sweden also often speaks in shorter sentences/phrases in Japanese, and given that Finland canonically says "it's just hard to communicate with him" (see Running Away with Mr. Sve) that is also likely why early Hetalia scanlators before official translations of the comics were available (note: god this is making me feel old as hell) made the decision to give him the speech patterns that they did, and that ended up spreading through the fandom. When the other Nordics with their regional dialects dropped, given how Sweden’s vocal trait got translated into English and then fandom ran with it to varying degrees of intelligibility, I think the decision was made to not translate Norway the same way to cause less trouble in fanworks, while the Ibaraki dialect did influence how Denmark was translated (more on that below.

Norway speaks in a very particular Touhoku-family dialect within the series that is generally not well-reflected outside of the source material at all. The Tsugaru dialect is spoken in the northwest part of the country, specifically in the western part of Aomori Prefecture — Tsugaru dialect is a particularly unusual dialect, even by Japanese dialect standards, by being one of the most difficult dialects in Japan to understand (source). Even within Japan itself, people speaking this dialect often have to be subtitled on television for other Japanese audiences to understand, and there have been occasions where the dialect has been displayed on television to marvel at how strange and unintelligible it sounds to other Japanese speakers. Sometimes speakers of this dialect have been characterized (or mischaracterized for comedic effect) as French in Japanese because the odd sound and unintelligability of the dialect (source). Kumagi (2011) also states that "[...] within the Tohoku [alternate transliteration of Touhoku] dialects, Aomori [prefecture in which Tsugaru is spoken] dialect is at the bottom [of the hierarchy]," meaning that even among the already disrespected Touhoku dialects, Tsugaru belongs to the worst of the bunch in terms of reputability and respectability in Japanese perceptions. The Tsugaru dialect is a source of fascination, comedy, and disrepute/low standing all at the same time. While we don’t know why Hima selected Norway to have this dialect, I have a few proposals. First, this gives him a similar flavor to the other members of the Viking Trio while keeping him distinct — while Ibaraki is a more southern dialect geographically (for the region), Tsugaru is spoken both more north and more west than it. So if you map their dialects out on a map, their geographical location to each other also somewhat resembles their actual locations as nations to each other in the Nordics! Which is neat!

Second, Hima characterizes Norway has being slightly otherworldly and unusual largely due to his fairy-friends and such. But I also think that he likely chose Tsugaru for him not only because that makes him seem like he’s out of this world, but also because Japan is kind of fascinated by that dialect in particular despite not holding it in high regards by it too — sure, it is a hick accent, but it is an interesting hick accent. I think the fact that Japanese speakers sometimes liken the dialect to French is interesting specifically because of how Japanese people often view the French — French culture something that is often romanticized and idealized, and given how Tsugaru dialect can sound French-ish to Japanese speakers, that may be why Norway is kind of designed as the “pretty boy” of the trio by the fandom? In the same way that “Paris Syndrome” is a thing, where Japanese who go to France are often shocked at how their idealized version of France does not live up to the realities of the country (trust me it's real there is a wikipedia page lol), I think you can argue that in-universe Norway can be seen in a lot of different ways depending on the preconceived notions of how you view the dialect. If you view it as French-like and think it sounds interesting, you may find it alluring/beautiful. If you think it is crass, you'll look at it with disdain and disgust. If you think it just sounds silly and stupid, it is. If you think it is nostalgic (as Kumagi states that this is the only positive association this dialect has) and has a close association with nature/pastoral life because of that, it is. I think Norway in canon is characterized on all four of those axioms at the same time (if you really wanna pull canon receipts I will at another time) which makes this make a lot of sense to me as to why that dialect was chosen for him. Third, I think that given Norway was largely the worst off of the three kingdoms for most of history, it makes sense to give him the worst accent in terms of reputation/status out of all of them, too. Note: specifically, re: how Norway uses "brother" in Japanese is also interesting when referring to Denmark. What he is saying is "anko" (あんこ), which literally means "young man/eldest son" directly translated and is specifically only used to mean that in northern Japanese dialects. A good way to put it is it is like people in the U.S. use "bro" as a catch-all term for a similar-aged guy you are trying to get the attention of kind of informally, in the same way you can say "nii-san" to both mean "older brother" and also "guy who seems older than me I am addressing informally" I guess?? Funnily enough, which I didn't know until researching shit, it apparently also means bottom (homosexual) in prison slang??? Which may or may not be intentional I guess on Hima's part, and could also influence your characterization of Norway as a result. Finally we move on to Denmark. The Ibaraki dialect is characterized by number of things, but for our purposes I think that the two most important traits are the general lack of polite speech and the slightly faster rate of speech (unfortunately, my only written sources I can point to are wikipedia and TV tropes again, but I have heard this orally from someone a long time ago - I looked for more credible sources but couldn't find any easily). Because of it being debated as to whether or not is a true Touhoku dialect or if it is actually a Kantou (more southern/eastern) dialect, I think you can also argue that makes sense given Denmark is kind of the "gateway" into the heart of Europe geographically. People have generally translated this as him being excitable and more casual in the way he communicates to other people. I have been able to find less resources on this particular dialect and how it is perceived culturally, so I will sadly have to leave it at that, but from my understanding he is generally translated appropriately in the manga from what I have seen, with the -in' instead of -ing and ya instead of you to have it seem more relaxed/familiar/casual.

Final notes on Finland and Iceland: I cannot confirm this personally, but from what I can hear from Finland, it sounds like he speaks pretty standard Japanese to me, but take that with a grain of salt since I am not the expert here. Which, dialect-wise, places him as the odd person out (which fits with Finnish being the linguistic outgroup of the five) and also puts him as the relatable “stand in” for Japanese people learning about the Nordics — reminder he is the one who introduces them all in that one comic (see The Nordic 5+a) and even earlier comics (see Running Away with Mr. Sve), and we’re viewing the Nordics from largely his perspective). Since Finland in this series is largely characterized (and often deemed a poor stereotype by Finns) because of the Japanese perspective on Finland/Finns, it makes a lot of sense Hima used him kind of as a self-insert for Japanese readers/viewers to understand the Nordics from, as of the Nordic nations, Japanese folks are likely going to have the strongest familiarity/connection to Finland because of the Moomins. Please take the following information about Iceland with heaping grains of salt, but from a memory, I believe he also speaks the Tsugaru dialect, at least some of the time???? This makes sense he shares the Tsugaru dialect with Norway, as he’s Norway’s in-canon sibling, but I have a vague memory of a meta post I cannot 100% confirm or deny exists re: him only speaking the dialect/the dialect coming out more when he’s alone?? This following is speculation since I cannot confirm/deny that right now with my current abilities, but if it is true, would also be an interesting level to his character and make sense — it puts further distance between him and Norway if he purpsefully doesn’t speak the same way as his brother when his brother is present, and it also is reminiscent of my own experience living with people with discriminated accents who then mask their “less desirable” dialects in their teens/20s so they don’t get discriminated against as they move up in the world. Kumagi (2011) states that "Therefore, young female native speakers of Tohoku [alternate transliteration] dialects feel ashamed of their dialects and hesitate to speak them in big cities such as Tokyo. They are made to feel inferiority complex about their dialects, which are stigmatized as unfeminine". Since Iceland is very much characterized as a teen in canon, I think that this makes sense to do in the broader context of Hima’s choices. The specific reason as to why I state that I believe he speaks Tsugaru some of the time but not always is because there are some panels he speaks without it and some where he does seem to have an accent (HWS Chapter 112, relevant screencap below, this is the only time he speaks like this from what I can find in scanlations/translations, but it has to be a deliberate choice). Would love more info on this from someone who knows more about Japanese than I can do.

Again, please check the original post and/or notes for any future additions that I will add/edit accordingly (with notes as to where/when that happened) if any other relevant information surfaces, but I hope that was at least a little informative and interesting to read. I consulted a bunch of other resources too (read a bunch of papers I could find online), but a lot of those I read several months ago and no longer can find :x otherwise I would list them here.

Let me know if there are any typos/things are unclear, b/c holy shit this took a lot more effort and time for me to write up than I thought it was going to, and I am too tired to proofread it after spending several days on it. X_X

#hws norway #hws denmark #hws sweden #hws nordics #aph nordics #hws iceland #hws finland #pyrrhocorax meta #just so it is easier to find again :/a #anyway i hope this is interesting at least. idk how this fandom tags stuff anymore

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aishangotome · 2 months

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IkeVil Prologue 2

Victor: Starting today, you will be the exclusive "Fairytale Keeper" for Crown.

Victor: Kate, from now on, you will live in this castle and act together with the members of Crown.

Victor: The Crown members will monitor her to ensure she does not leak any secrets.

Victor: In the meantime, I want Kate to write down how they carry out their evil deeds. Like writing a fairytale.

Victor: If you want to return to your normal life after a month... you must not fall in love with them.

About a week has passed since the sinful life as a Fairytale Keeper began.

Just as Victor advised, I haven't fallen in love with anyone, and the day when I can prove I can keep secrets and safely return home is not far off.

That's what I thought, right before it happened.

Pure evil descended upon England-–.

Victor: The reason I gathered you all today is none other than

Victor: To introduce our guest from Germany –-

Victor: To Crown and Kate.

Victor: Would you please introduce yourself?

Angel-like Man: Nice to meet you, dear members of Crown.

Darius: I am Darius Vogel, the director of "Vogel," a research organization directly under the German Emperor.

Victor: I hear Vogel is a research organization that advocates for cursed social contributions.

Victor: They will be staying in this palace for a few months as goodwill ambassadors.

Darius: "A better society through the power of curses." That is our motto.

Darius: Even though cursed ones live in the shadows now, I believe there are more wonderful ways to interact with society!

Darius: A future where humans and cursed ones work together... Doesn't the thought of it make you excited?

Darius: So when I heard that there is a wonderful organization called "Crown" in England, I couldn't sit still.

Harrison: ............

Darius: Ah, don't worry! Of course, only a few people in Germany know about the existence of "cursed ones."

Darius: The reason we know about "Crown" is that we are all "cursed ones" too.

Darius: If cursed ones deepen their interactions, it seems like we could deepen our knowledge about curses and abilities, right?

Darius: We could hold a banquet, or it would be fun to accompany you on missions for field research.

Victor: They have officially entered the country as diplomats, and their purpose of researching cursed ones is kept secret.

Darius: Thank you for the polite explanation, Queen's Aide. So, we are both in positions where we have a lot to hide...

Darius: I would be happy if we could create a new order together with you.

Darius: By the way... it seems William Rex is not here, where is he?

Victor: Ah, William is absent today. I apologize.

Darius: Is that so? That's a shame. I thought I could finally meet him in person...

Darius: Well, it can't be helped since we came a few days earlier.

Darius: Well then, both of you, please greet everyone. They are twins, the older one is Nica, and the younger one is Ring.

Darius: So, please greet everyone nicely.

Ring: Ring Schwartz... I'll be in your care for a few months. If you harm us, I won't show mercy.

Nica: Hey, don't threaten them. I'm sorry for my brother's rudeness.

Nica: He's a cute and good boy like this, but he's very wary like a dog. Ah, yes, my introduction.

Nica: Guten Tag, everyone at Crown. I'm Nica Schwartz. Nice to meet you.

Darius: Yes, yes, Nica is a good boy.

Darius: Nica, Ring, and I are like "family."

Darius: I would be happy if we could have that kind of relationship with everyone too.

Darius: ...Huh? I heard Crown consists of the Queen's Aide and eight men... Who are you?

Kate: I am Kate, the "Fairytale Keeper."

Victor: She is not a cursed one, but she is an important person who records Crown's activities.

Darius: "Important person"? Hmm...

Darius: If you are an "important person" to Crown, we must treat you with respect too.

Ring: ....................

Nica: That's right, Dari. I'm glad because I thought it would be boring with only guys.

Nica: Nice to meet you, cute little robin.

Kate: ...Nice to meet you too.

After parting with Vogel, who said they would be staying in the palace rooms prepared by Victor, we return to the castle with the members of Crown.

(I'm finally getting used to this life, but I feel like something is about to change again.)

With that premonition in mind, I reflect on the encounter we just had.

(Vogel... a research organization for cursed ones. So there are such things outside of England too.)

(Darius was always smiling and seemed like an angel.)

(The impression of Nica, who seemed bright and easy to talk to, and Ring, who seemed cold, was the opposite even though they are twins.)

(In any case, I'm glad they were friendly people... or so I should feel.)

(Why do I feel like that's not all...?)

(Maybe I've become suspicious because of being exposed to various evils while spending time with Crown...)

Harrison: ...Hey, did you feel it too?

Kate: Huh?

Harrison: Those guys are lying.

-----

Nica: "Fairytale Keeper," huh? That position, and the existence of that girl, were not in the data we had beforehand.

Nica: Maybe she accidentally found out about Crown's existence and is being monitored. What do you think, Ring?

Ring: ..................

Nica: ...Ring? Are you listening?

Ring: Ah, ...I don't understand difficult things, but I think it's better not to speak based on speculation.

Ring: It's better not to let our guard down as long as we don't know their true identity. ...That's all, right?

Darius: Well, even though she's a "Fairytale Keeper," she seems like an ordinary "human," so she can't do much.

Darius: The important thing is to increase our "family." Let's not forget our purpose.

Nica: Verstanden.

Ring: ...Yeah.

Darius: I can't wait to talk to everyone more. Hehe.

Roger Barel - Chapter 1

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

#ikemen series #cybird #cybird otome #cybird ikemen #ikemen villains #ikevil translations #ikemen villains prologue 2 translation #preparation for roger barel's route #darius vogel #nice schwartz #ring schwartz

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years

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If you let me show you (Charles Leclerc)

Years later, your's and Charles' hearts are still longing for eachother and, perhaps, it was meant to be all along

Note: english is not my first language.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated, and while I'm not actively taking requests, I am writing some blurbs when I can so if you have any ideas or concepts that can be written in a small amount of sentences and you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: past breakup

"As usual, thank you for listening to the podcast", you began closing off the recording for you newest episode of your podcast, taking your headphones off once you were done and your editor gave you her thumbs up, "That was really good, Y/N. I think people will enjoy it a lot", she said as you smiled, proud of how far you got. The idea of creating your own podcast while you finished your degree was just something to keep your mind off of school, despite it being about what you studied since it was something you enjoyed, but it had quickly grown to join other people who, like you, enjoyed the topic. You had gathered a small community that you were very grateful for, especially when it allowed to go to bigger events like TedTalks and sit and talk, as well as meeting them.

Checking your phone for your e-mails, you noticed a new one from someone you had never received anything from before, "what is this...?", you muttered under your breath before letting your finger tap the screen to open it, revealing what looked like an invite to an event, looking at the top to see that you had been sent it a few days ago and, scrolling down, finding out that you had to confirm your attendance until that afternoon, "did you get this?", you showed it to your editor, "nope, but I've heard of other people who come here to record that they've been invited too", she smiled. "Are you plann-", she was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing, an unknown number calling, "yes?", you said, "Hi, this is from Fondation Prince Albert II de Monaco. How have you been, Y/N?", a seemingly kind man on the other side of the line, "Hello, I've been good, and you?", you said as you looked at your editor, "sorry to bother you during the day, but we've had some issues with our communication channels and are not receiving the confirmation from the people who are attending, and we just wanted to confirm wether or not you are joining us for the evening", he said as you panicked opened the e-mail again, checking for more details about this event, "Oh, you're also allowed a plus one, I don't think your e-mail said that due to the glitch we had", he offered as you looked at your editor one last time, her showing you a dinner she had with family on that night, "yes, I can confirm my presence. Just me, no plus one", you said as you heard him type, "Good, thank you! Since our communication channels are not working properly, is it okay if, in case of any new information, I contact you through here?", he asked before you confirmed, bidding eachother a good day and goodbye before ending the call, "this is a very surreal thing", you heard your editor said, now propped by your laptop as she look at the e-mail, telling you all about why they had decided to invite you, your contribution to spreading scientific knowledge in a simple way and accessible to everyone bring the number one reason, "who knew, hm? My weird little podcast about academia getting me t-, oh, wait, this is a red carpet?", you looked further, noticing their dress code advice section, "what did you expect from the Fondation? Some burgers and fries?", she teased you, "I thought it was, like, an intimate thing, small thing. If I'm going to this, who else is?", you mused while your editor only snickered.

After having your friend help you pick a dress worthy of the event, you dropped it at the dry cleaners, which is where you found yourself in the morning of the event, ready to pick it up while the lovely lady went to get it outback when a younger employee asked "I'm sorry, but you are Y/N, from the podcast, right?", she asked as you nodded, "I've heard your voice through these so many times I recognised it almost immediately", she said as she pointed to her earbuds, "I'm very happy that you listen to it", you said as you noticed your dress, clean and ironed being set on the counter, "may I ask what this is for?", she said curiously before who you figured was her grandmother set the bill for you too, "dear, that's not nice for the costumers, sorry about my granddaughter", she half scolded her, "no, don't worry. I'm going to an event tonight because of the podcast", you explained as you paid, smiling before leaving the store and bidding goodbye.

Arriving at home, you tried your best to remember and replicate how Pascale taught you to do your hair, the curls coming out looking like you were from a different era, silently praying they would drop while you fid your makeup. You put one the dress and added your accessories before shaking your curls, moving to put on your shoes and coat just in time for the car they had sent to pick you up and go to the event, "is this your first time?", the driver asked, "yes. Do you notice it that much?", you giggled, "not at all. Just I know I would have recognised you otherwise", he explained, "do you know anyone who is going to be there? It is a big help, so I've heard over the years", he offered, "I don't think so", you mused, "I'm not sure who's invited to be honest", you giggled again, nervous that you should have done your research, "usually actresses and actors, singers too usually, people from non profits, other members of TV shows. Oh, and how could I forget, some drivers usually go too", and it hit you. How did it not hit you before? Charles could be there too, and you not seen him in person in the longest time. Last time you saw him was a few months after you broke up, and it pained you to be in the same room as him, and while you did nothing but be polite to eachother, you couldn't deal with that, somehow always managing to avoid any gathering where he would be. Did you watch his races? Yes, every weekend one had been on you'd take your time no watch it, never breaking your promise and supporting him whenever you could, however you could. Knowing how it would bother you stayed out of anything related to his personal life, only knowing little bits you picked up from interviews and, since he was pretty private, there hadn't been anything related to his relationships, so were you about to know something more? Was he bringing a plus one with him? "Don't need to get nervous, dear, from all my years of this, people are usually very friendly and before you know it, you're already friends", he smiled sweetly, oblivious to the actual relationship you were worried about.

A woman dressed in black guided you on what to to once you arrived, telling you when to stop and pose for some pictures, despite your insistence that 'I'm here for my voice, I don't think people will need to see my face really", giggling and comforting you until you felt comfortable enough, "See?! Stunning, chérie", she smiled before her phone beeped, prompting her to tell her colleague, "Charles is arriving just now, could you go to him, please?", before helping you to the other spot where you would do an interview with someone who also had a podcast that, despite being a bigger creator, treated you with the utmost kindness, "thank you so much for taking some time and giving us your story on getting to where you are today", he said as you shook his hand one last time, thanking him before walking back to the carpet, spotting Charles posing too. And then your heart started doing somersaults, almost like it never stopped doing then anyway.

Charles followed the woman in a black suit as she told him where to stand, smiling in almost all the directions someone called him from before he noticed you, sitting in a high chair with a pair of headphones on your head. Were you here? Your podcast was successful, he knew that much since he contributed, but he did not expect you to be here. How long had it been? Two, maybe three years? You had managed to go to his F2 celebration, just as friends, before, as he now recalled, never setting his eyes on you in another form other than pictures on Instagram or your voice from the podcast episodes.

He was about to head to you when a young fan, who happened to be attending with his parents, asked for his autograph and a picture, "whenever we are home, me and mama and papa watch all your races, you're one of Monaco's pride!", the boy who was no older than ten said excitedly, prompting Charles to open his blazer's button before crouching down to pose with him. Getting up and wishing everyone a good night and event, his eyes looked for you in your emerald green dress, now finding a gentleman in the chair you were sitting previously. Heading inside the venue, he greeted some people before he noticed you looking at something on your phone and confirming it on the indicating plaques, looking a but confused before you looked around and your eyes locked in his, "h- Hi, Charles, Hi!", you said as you greeted him, your movement so automatic that you didn't even think about hugging and pressing a kiss on each cheek of your ex-boyfriend, thankful that he seemed to want to do the same, "Hi, Y/N, how are you?", he said as he looked at you properly. And you looked even more beautiful, despite looking like the same girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago."Are you here alone, too?", you said and immediately wanted to take it back, feeling like you had nothing to do with it, "I'm on my own, yes. C'mon, let's go through here", he said as he guided you on the other way you were thinking of going, leading you to the big room where all the tables were and finding out that the table you'd be sitting in was next to his, "if you need anything, call for me, yes?", he said as he looked for reassurance, "you're going to do great, I just know it".

The evening was beautiful, getting the opportunity to listen to all the projects and ideas people were developing and over all having a good time, and while you enjoyed it, you needed to get some air, excusing yourself from the group and heading to one of the outside gardens, a glass in hand as you took in all that had happened for you to get here. You had never dreamt of this opportunity to come from something as simple as you sharing your thoughts outloud, finding people on the receiving end interested in what you had to say, and to be here was something you still couldn't make out, "may I?", you heard a familiar voice you could recognise anywhere, seeing Charles coming to sit next to you on the stone bench, "it's amazing how many inspiring people are here today, no?", he began, really not knowing how to approach you. You were here alone, so it wasn't like he was crossing a line, he hoped, remembering some conversations he heard in the last group gathering where one of your close friends admitted that you were single still, "and somehow I ended up here, too", you mused before looking at him, his eyes never failing to calm you down and rile your heart up at the same time, "of course you did. Your work is amazing, it's only fair they recognised it", he let slip, "how do you know that?", you quirked your brow as you took a sip from your glass, "I listen to it. Every Thursday I go and look for the new episode", he admitted, "I still don't understand half of the things you defend and explain, but you make it so engaging and, and I miss your voice. I miss you", he said as he looked up at the starry sky before he let his hand crawl along the light stone and nudge yours, your pinkies lacing eachother. You looked at him, a small blush on your cheeks, "thank you, I- I watch all your races too, even the ones that are broadcasted at daft o'clock in Europe", you said before sighing "you know why we did it that way it was", you said, remembering the day you and Charles decided it was for the best that you should go your separate ways.

"I love you so much", Charles said as he held your hands in his, "I love you so much and it is why I think we should do this", he reasoned, although the tears in his eyes, matching your own, reflected the genuine hurt you both knew was dawning on each of you, "I never want to be the one making you hurt, not in a short time or not in a long time", you sniffed, squeezing your eyes further to slow down the tears, "I love you with my whole heart and I'd never want you to hurt, either of us to hurt", you finished as you gave him one last hug, relishing in the feeling of having his arms around you, "you'll always have my heart, Y/N Y/L/N", he said kissing the top of your head, "and it will always be yours to keep".

"Was it really though?", he said, snuffling closer to you while still not touching you more than before even though his skin longed to feel yours, "I don't know, Charles, I really don't know", you said. You didn't like to admit it, but every now and again, you would entertain the thought of what could have been if you had stayed together. How your days could have been if you had him to come home to, or having to travel to races to see him, hear his laughs in person instead of through a screen. It would have been like you had predicted, crazy schedules, long periods away from eachother, but the effort to make it work would have been worth it to have him with you. As you were about to say that to him, you heard heels clicking on the floor, "sorry to interrupt, but the fireworks are going to go off now, I thought you might like to see them", one of the ladies that had helped you in the red carpet said as you both got up, "thanks for letting us know, we'll be up shortly", Charles offered before she walked away while you two followed her, "Would you be willing to come to my place tomorrow?", he asked as he finally laced his fingers in yours for a few seconds, parting when you reached the door, "okay", you said before you were ushered to different places in the crowd.

Arriving home later that evening, you were taking all your makeup off when your phone pinged, seeing a text from Charles, surprised that after all these years he, like you, had kept your number, "Even though we did not spend that much time together today, I know for a fact that I missed having you around and being near you. I hope you have a goodnight's rest", could be read on your screen.

"Thank you for coming here. I would've gone to your place but I didn't know if you wanted me there, and besides, I don't want all the attention that it could draw that way around to you", he said nervously, "No need to rub it in that you're more famous than me, Charles", you teased slightly, wanting to clear up the tension in the room that your nerves were not exactly helping, "I mean it. Thank you for agreeing to come and talk", he said before taking a big breath, "yesterday sparked something in me, and I'm not sure it was a spark again moment, I think this has always been here", he admitted, looking qt you in the hopes of getting you to speak about your take on it, "I-, I felt the same", you gulped, "but can we do this? I think so b-", you were interrupted by him, "all those years ago, we said we wanted to focus on our careers, grow and not have to worry about it. And, while I think it could've been good, there's no way to know that the success we have it due to that. Can you imagine having me next to you on your graduation? Signing your contracts? Because every weekend I imagine you sitting in that hospitality, working on your laptop before coming to watch me race and congratulate me, or be the only person in my driver's room to calm me down after a bad race", he admitted, "I know you don't owe me any of that and if this is one sided then I don't want to make you feel guilty about it, but I needed to let you know", he finished as he looked at you. Sighing, you launched your hand to meet his, "I miss you, and I want to have you with me, to get home and see you there, even if it is only every now and then. But I don't want you to feel guilty that you're not here, or that I feel like I'm not enough", you said and he giggled, "Mon ange, you are more than enough. And I'll be the luckiest man alive if you let me have you in my life again. We'll take things slowly, but please, let us go back to how we were", he pleaded as he saw you smile, "mon coeur, we are going to be better than ever".

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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tenabrye · 2 years

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Hi! I’m so glad that I’ve stumbled upon your blog! I’ve read everything and I loved it soooooo much 💖💖 can I please ask for headcanons on Wolfwood and Vash (reboot versions) noticing that the reader has crush on them (can be if they afterwards reciprocate reader’s crush or decline or ignore or whatever you feel like writing)

Thank you so much! 🥰

I'm so glad you've enjoyed everything so far. This is a very niche fandom, so there's not a whole lot, yet, but hopefully my contributions help. ☺️

Vash

It's not that he's dumb, but he's just the type to accidentally think that their extra niceness to him is just them being extremely friendly, to which he is happy about. But when he actually learns that it's all because of their little crush on him? The man is ecstatic. Immediately accepts their feelings with open arms that are quick to envelope them, picking them up and gently swaying them around with a smile on his face.

He'd be curious as to when it all started. Very curious. What made them fall for him? It's the most common question on his mind, to which he immediately grins at the answer they give him. Oh, so it wasn't just his good looks? He kids, he kids. He actually likes the fact that they love his personality before his appearance. It shows what kind of person they are. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel the same, but the man is the definition of CONSENT. He's not doing anything until, I do mean until, he knows they feel the same AND they're okay with it. That being said, they better prepare for what comes next.

Cue the hand holding, lots of it, the onslaught of hugs, face peppered with soft kisses, etc. Oh man, and don't get me started on the loving glances he sends their way. If people thought he was soft before, oh boy, just wait until they catch him looking at his crush turned significant other. If they ever catch him looking at him with such softness in his eyes, he just casually smiles at them before letting a little "I love you" slip out.

To be fair, he most likely would have had a crush on them first, but due to not knowing if they felt the same, or having already decided early on that they didn't feel the same, he would have tried to push his feelings down. At least as best as he could. Except they just come out after the little realization of his crush's feelings. They really don't know how happy they've made him with their confession.

Wolfwood

Luckily for him, he can tell when someone likes him, and I mean really likes him. He's quiet about it, though, observing them, making sure his eyes aren't deceiving him. He doesn't trust himself at times and often second guesses things, hence his actual look of surprise when he realizes that everything he's been noticing about them and their own feelings towards him are real.

He's very different when it comes to someone liking him and vice versa. See, when someone likes him, he wonders about the reason. Why do they like him? What about him draws them to him? Considering who he really is and what he really does as opposed to his side gig, yeah, it's only right he'd think such things. BUT, it's a relief when they confess to him, because he now knows that he was right. His eyes didn't deceive him this time. He doesn't grin, but boy does he have such a cute smirk on his face, the cigarette in his mouth having been moved to one corner of his mouth.

He has DEFINITELY thought about doing stuff, but it's not like he would without consent. The only thing he has ever done without his little admirer's knowledge was steal glances at them. But when they confessed their feelings to him, it was as if that was really all the consent he needed. Of course, he'll have them pulled close to him, eyes half lidded and staring intently into their own as he asks, "Can I kiss you?"

In all honesty, the man probably felt something for them after some short time travelling together with them. Hence the extra niceties and protectiveness, but y'know, that's about all it was from him. And stolen glances. It's a big relief when they confess to him, it really is. He doesn't have to hold himself back anymore, and he hopes they won't tell him to.

#trigun wolfwood #trigun stampede wolfwood #trigun vash #trigun stampede vash #nicolas d wolfwood #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #trigun headcanons #trigun stampede headcanons #vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #vash x you #wolfwood x you

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radiomogai · 3 months

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sometimes I think about all the queer people of the past who found ways to keep themselves and their communities alive- not just the ones who wrote big articles or were relatively more 'famous'. I mean each and every queer person who has in any way recorded their identity, refused to let time erase them, even if it was in the smallest way, to keep themselves and their queer community alive. all the small, different little ways that we'll never even know about all of them, those are the archivists who kept queer history alive and know we remember their contributions even if we don't know them personally? we remember it through the impact. the same is even more true for every indigenous person who has contributed to language conservation programs, to archival work of the culture colonizers never erased, only thought they did...

does it ever hit you that you are part of that legacy, that y'all are keeping the work of past 'archivists' alive? queer communities, indigenous communities, they adapt and they survive and you are a wonderful part of that legacy. y'all should be so proud of yourselves for being part of that, even if it sometimes feels pointless or small. because i'm sure there have been countless times that queer and indigenous people have felt that way too about their resistance. and I know internet blogging is of course not the same as resistance. but I think y'all should know that you are wonderful and everything you do is worth it- and not just worth it, it is part of such a beautiful legacy of you and your intersectional history. y'all continually amaze me with your dedication and I think you truly deserve to know how important y'all are and that there are queer and indigenous people who are no longer here anymore, who are proud of you for being so invested in your communities and in persevering. so I hope y'all feel that truly, you are not just blogging pointless terms, you are part of such a beautiful legacy of queer and indigenous resistance, even if it seems small. I truly love y'all, you're amazing.

This makes me want to cry, in a really, really good way.

We do think about it. We think about it a lot. We think a lot about how everything around is the result of knowledge being passed from person to person, built on each other. We think a lot about the fact that everything around us comes from people, people with loved ones, people with a favourite food, people who got songs stuck in their head and people who had moments of self-discovery and people who had to be taught everything they know by somebody else. We think about how we’re far from the first Métis person to use our sash to carry berries, we think about how a friend of ours showed us how to do it and how someone showed them and how someone spent hours on our sash and someone had to teach them how to do it and someone had to gather the materials for it. We think about labels built off of other labels and how many people have contributed to the conversations that led to words like queer and gay and xenogender being used the way they are now, how someone had to teach each of them what those words mean, how everyone has thought something different about them even if they never wrote it down. We think about how someone had to teach us how to use a computer when we were a child and how in some way that led to us learning about queerness and surrounding ourselfves in it, about how our self-discovery has led to our archival work and about how that work has led others to their own self-discovery, how they in that way are impacted by the fact that someone taught us how to use a computer. We like to follow things back as far as they will go, knowing that there’s always another step just behind the one we look at now.

The fact that we can sit here reblogging terms is thanks to coiners, is thanks to the artists who first made pride flags, is thanks to activists, is thanks to parents, is thanks to everyday people living openly as queer, is thanks to everyone who’s looked at queerphobia and said that isn’t acceptable and did something about it. The fact that we can sit here as a Métis person is thanks to our ancestors who lived and died and passed on history, is thanks to translators and mothers and grandmothers and family, is thanks to other Native bloggers, is thanks to Indigenous teenagers sharing with each other what little they know, is thanks to every Native who’s refused to cut their hair. We think about it a lot, the people who have impacted the world we’re in, who have impacted us without ever knowing it. We think about the people we’ve impacted without ever knowing it, knowing that the messages and asks we’ve received are only a small portion of those we’ve helped.

Sometimes we see tagging systems inspired by ours. People casually using words that we helped to dig up, or that we coined, or that we helped make common. It’s one of the greatest feelings we’ve ever had the privilege to experience.

#Ask #mogai-sunflowers #Long post #Kind messages #Thank you Reign. This means a lot to us.

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painted-bees · 9 months

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Hey, I've been obsessing over Hi-Note for the past two days, and I was reading meet cute part two and I noticed your tag. "I'm not a very good writer I don't paint very well with words."

I want to establish credibility for the praise I am about to heap on you: I've written a fair more than most people. There's over a million words in my Ao3, and yet more hundreds of thousands that never saw the light of day. I've friends in the editing trade who tell me I write at a publishable level. I like to think I know the craft very well.

So here's the praise: while you do have some of the marks of inexperienced writers I will absolutely contradict your self-deprecation. You are a good writer, and you have the makings of a great one.

Telling compelling stories are about so much more than mere mastery of prose. Your characters and your stories have real heart. Refined prose is far easier to learn than verisimilitude (there's a ten dollar word) in portraying the human condition.

I adore what I've read so far of Raf and Magritte, they are a charmingly tragic little duo, partially because I relate to them and partially because I am the biggest sap about that kind of dynamic of broken people initially hiding their cracks, gradually turning one another into kintsugi through affection, devotion, (and optionally, hot sex.)

If at any point you want some pointers, gently given, about how to improve your prose quality, absolutely hit me up, I am on this hellsite way too much.

Thanks for drawing and writing. You've given me much joy.

this is a lot to process haha thank you so much Q vQ♡♡♡

With all the kindness I have received about my writing, I will take care not to pre-empt future prose-y posts with apologetic sentiments regarding the quality. Self-deprecation doesn't contribute to anyone's enjoyment of the writing--and with all compliments I have received thus far, I feel it would be an insult to you guys if I were to continue insisting that the quality of my work requires tempering reader expectations upfront in order for it to be well received. I feel wholly encouraged and unstoppabley emboldened, haha!

That said, yes! I am very shiny and new to the whole writing thing! I would be very pleased to get an occasional DM or private message with any observations or tips regarding consistent/recourring mistakes or apparent gaps in knowledge that my work would benefit from having pointed out. I'll probably never revist old works to edit them, but I am keen on absorbing your wisdoms and applying the new things I learn to my future writing doodles!

Thank you so much for your kindly enthusiasm!! and for enjoying Hi-Note with me while I wallow gleefully in my self-dug little obsession pit haha♡♡♡!! Genuinely, it means a ton to me!!

#this is such a nice ask to cap my day with♡♡♡ aaa I feel so fortunate

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mae-i-scribble · 11 months

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Hi, I hope you're having a nice day - in your author's notes for chapter 2 of The Long Way Home, you mentioned the idea that the story HSY wrote is different from the ORV that we know. I wanted to ask if you've ever written any posts expanding on that? I would love to read more about your thoughts on this (KDJ in your story's last memory being about reading that instead of WoS. Gutted me.)

Hello there! I have unfortunately not written a post detailing this (if you are the very nice anon who has asked me to elaborate on this i am very sorry, if you're not anon i am still very sorry), in large part because doing so in a way that I would be happy with would involve combing through the last 1/3rd or so of the novel. Since the major thematics about authors and characters and readers as one aren't really gotten into until that point. To be honest, I just haven't had the energy for that.

The idea that the novel HSY wrote not being ORV is one that I've always had since first finishing ORV- I can't say where exactly it originated from. Now to be clear, it's an undisputed fact that HSY and kimcom *are* writing about the events they lived through, and I do 100% both understand how and why HSY writing ORV is the more widely accepted theory (them including lines from early orv scenes, the way that it loops right back around into ORV's very meta theming, the way it would match up with the ideas of loop of fate, etc.) I just don't agree with it.

One of the greatest takeaways for me on the author/character theming in ORV is that an author will never fully understand a character they write. HSY and YJH live this out in real time, alongside HSY learning the origins of WoS vs the YJH she has come to know as a companion. In writing WoS she straight up admits that she fudges her memories of him because it isn't as if she could know everything about him- she just wrote the story she thought KDJ needed to hear. (I swear I have a point I promise). HSY as intimate knowledge in how while writing someone, you both grow to understand them intimately while simultaneously remaining clueless. With the experiences she goes through, combined with the fact that KDJ's narration in ORV is so specifically *him* with all its unreliability and the glimpses we get into his past/bits of him on his own without kimcom around, I just don't think ORV is something HSY would have written. To me, she wouldn't have tried to write from KDJ's perspective, already having far too much entanglement in obscuring people and characters with KDJ (and possily from that one scenario where she's almost taken over by the character she's incarnated into, but again, i would need to reread).

Then we reach the point where she writes this novel for the KDJ's across worldlines- or rather, kimcom does. Which I think is another very relevant point, HSY is compiling and spinning this into a narrative, but *everyone* is contributing to it and writing bits and pieces. Now that I type it out, I think that might be part of what makes me so happy with the thought that instead of ORV, HSY is writing that same story but told from kimcom's perspective, not KDJ's like ORV is. The image of everyone coming together to give their own perspective and accounts while HSY compiles and sorts those varying viewpoints into a narrative with KDJ as the focus just warms my heart. In a post I made about the epilogues, I brought up that with this interpretation, you can see it as kimcom writing KDJ as they see him, so that he can understand just why they love him so dearly- which I think is especially poignant considering this novel's true purpose isn't even to bring KDJ back, its to help everyone else heal from the trauma of losing him.

So basically, I can't really give you much of a textual basis for my argument besides for the fact that ORV doesn't straight up say HSY is writing ORV, it's more just was my first takeaway that has forever stuck with me as my preferred interpretation.

(P.S. thank you for taking the time to read my fic, I also loved writing the bit where KDJ remembers that story.)

#orv #orv spoilers #post epilogue #kim dokja #han sooyoung #this has been orv meta with mae #well wannabe meta it doesnt really count without evidence #but still i am just never letting go of this interpretation #sorry if its not exactly the answer you were looking for #but it is the only one i have to give #until the day i do a full reread of orv and go absolutely mcfucking insane dissecting it like a lab rat

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isa-ghost · 6 months

Text

Btw I am affectionately squeezing everyone who's given me Pomme, Missa, Pac, and other characterization tips for AMFMN to death for their help. I hope they know they've contributed to making the fic the best it can be and if Tumblr doesn't fuck me over, I'll definitely at some point in the future find the URLs on the posts I made and make a sappy af post thanking everyone who helped me do research to write things accurately.

I'm determined to make sure every single character that appears in the fic is done right no matter how brief their appearance is, even if it's not a flawless reflection. I'm very confident in Most of my characterizations so far (I've been told I've got Phil and Fit's mannerisms down PERFECTLY and that means SO MUCH to me ;-;), but I've been super conscious abt doing everyone justice throughout the entire planning & writing process. I'm determined for there not to be a single He Would Not Fucking Say That moment in the fic about ANYONE.

And despite being a little antsy about the characters I'm writing who I haven't seen tons of in streams, I'm having so much fun turning the compensation I'm doing to make up for lacking the knowledge into a group effort. To me THAT is peak QSMP.

The fact that I've had community members talk to me in Spanish abt characters, then consulting a completely different person to translate those things for me, then passing on those translations to other people who need a good reference for characterization. Getting to let people infodump about their faves in general but esp in their language. Asking someone to work with me throughout the process of writing the fic to translate the Spanish correctly rather than lazily relying on shitty translations from Google. Hell, my translator for Spanish dialogue taught me a Spanish culture thing and I deadass changed a conversation in Chapter 3 to include it!! The fic, a FANMADE THING, is LITERALLY doing what Actual QSMP's entire goal is: bringing groups together and sharing bits of their cultures!! That's fucking awesome!!

AMFMN has been a community effort FROM THE BEGINNING, honestly. Someone asked me for certain qPhil headcanons, then those sparked me to make other qPhil headcanons, then someone else asked me to elaborate on one I made, then I saw an entire group of people voicing a desire for more Phil-centric fics, then THAT all spiraled from there.

I never was like "Hm. Me want write Phil fic." I got inspired from the fandom and the people I interacted with. I'M NOT A FIC WRITER. I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN A FANFIC BEFORE NOW. I only ever wrote short OC things. And here I am writing a 20 FUCKING CHAPTER longfic for a fandom!! And I'm consulting people for Spanish translations for Missa, and I 100% intend on consulting a native French speaker I know and a native Portuguese speaker I know if Etoiles or Bagi have dialogue in their languages too (I plan to fit it in where I can, I've been focused more on Missa speaking Spanish bc he/Phil use the translations more together while Etoiles & Bagi tend to just speak English if they're not on their own or with other FR/PT speakers so I haven't been as focused on them lmao)!! And I'm so fucking hyped that I get to make that happen because of something I created, the same way Quackity gets to watch collaboration and sharing through something he's created.

TLDR I fucking love this community and I'm so thankful for the people who have been involved no matter how briefly.

#qsmp #AMFMN things

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nitroglycerin-flavored-coffee · 2 months

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His Blue Serge Chapter 2:

Alastor was impressed. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. This little Demon Belle, her determination, her will.

Her power.

The princess had taken control of their deal. In making deals, usually only one person holds the contract. If you were to ask dear old Husker the specifics of his deal, he would surely be able to tell you the gist of it, how he had fallen to the Radio Demons' misconstrued offer of ‘help’. If you were to ask Alastor, well he could pull out the signed contract composed of his magic and read off every little footnote, details of the initial encounter listed there, even footnotes about how body language can be interpreted as consent for certain aspects of the deal not quite spoken out loud. It was all there, recorded thanks to the magic that comes with making deals.

But Charlie, oh Charlie! She had gripped his hand, and by simple willpower, split the power of the deal between them. Due to the switch-up of power, there was no physical manifestation of the deal, no contract that could be manifested, just the bond of their spoken word. That may make things more difficult for Alastor later on when he would choose to cash in his favor, but he was not deterred by the risks that insinuated.

No, he was simply overjoyed at the display of power. Charlie would be a truly formidable foe if she chose to make herself one. Luckily, Alastor planned to keep her on his good side for quite a while longer. Oh, how could he not when she proved to be just too entertaining? Even Rosie was able to see the potential just under the surface of the princess's kind demeanor, and Dearest Rosie was quite the judge of character.

Though since the battle, the dear princess seemed to be gloomy. She wasn't going so far as to lock herself in her room again, but it was very clear that the Doll would make herself scarce at the sight of a particular winged gal. He took notice one day when the main staff was gathered together, working the logistics of some of the cannibal colony staying after the battle had concluded. Apparently, Charlie had charmed them so well they’d like to stick around!

The short stack of a king wasn’t around, not used to being around so many people for extended periods. He had locked himself away in his suite, luckily on the other side of the hotel as the Radio Tower in which Alastor resided. He listened into the meeting taking place a few stories down through a hidden shadow.

Angel had excused himself, after a call from Valentino in which the moth claimed to be struck by inspiration, and needed the spider fella for an impromptu shoot. Husker was passed out at the coffee table, in this little lounge where they had originally gathered for the meeting.

Nifty had scurried off, chasing a bug that had landed on the window sill from outside. This was a pest-free house and she damn well intended to keep it that way. No one was particularly worried when this endeavor ended up with her physically leaving the window to chase the bug up the side of the building.

And that left the Darling Princess and her former lover. And the Shadow that lurked where no one knew of its presence, quietly listening in for the Radio Demon. He often felt inclined to tune in for the meetings they had, even if he didn’t feel the need to be there to contribute.

Vaggie had stopped trying to wake up Husker when she realized that this was probably the first time she and Charlie were ‘Left Alone’ since before the battle. Charlie noticed a beat after her and quickly scrambled to her feet, gathering up the papers and crayons that she could, some being trapped under Husker's prone form.

“Well, I guess let's call it there for today. See you guys later.” The princess said to the room, not addressing Vaggie despite her being the only one in the room who would probably hear her. To her knowledge that is. Alastor smirked, still glad to have the occasional upper hand over his colleagues. Relaxing back into his plush chair and lifting his coffee mug to his face, he listened in to what he hoped would be an embarrassing stumble on the angel's part.

“Wait, Charlie-” there it was. “I really think we should talk.” Oh, how delicious. This should be absolutely heart-wrenching for the two.

“Now really isn’t a good time Vaggie. I have paperwork to do.” The princess was rubbing her forehead beneath her short horns, trying to smooth out the stress lines forming there. “Maybe later.” She left no room for discussion as she walked towards the door, hoping to flee to her own little part of the hotel, where Dazzle was surely waiting for her. She stopped, stepping back when she saw Vaggie blocking the path with an outstretched wing.

The grey-pallor woman looked more ashen than usual as she breathed out a plea. “It’s been weeks.” Alastor could hear the quiver in her voice. “We need to talk.”

Charlie lightly stomped her hoof in irritation, holding her papers closer to her chest. “And I said not now . So, if you’ll excuse me.” She went to walk around the wing but it strained further as Vaggie pushed herself in between the Princess and the exit.

“Charlie, please. You haven’t even let me explain-” The angel was quickly cut off.

“I have heard plenty. I have heard your tale when you told Angel in the lobby; explained it to Nifty over and over every time she asked; when you sent Husk after me as an unwilling middleman.” Tears came to the princess's eyes, carrying a bloody sclera with them.” I have heard what you have to say, and it doesn’t change the fact that you lied. I am done. I am over it. I am moving on.”

She attempted again to walk past the outstretched wing, but this time, since it could stretch no farther, Vaggie pushed herself in the way. “Charlie-”

“I said,” The princess's black-tipped nails turned into claws, “Leave me alone.”

It wasn’t so much as a roar, as a low growl. But the power of it sent a burst of magic through the room. Invisible as it was, it knocked Vaggie over to the side and out of the way, poor Husker off the table and out of his nap, and even dispersed the lurking shades. Much to the surprise of Alastor.

He jolted up from his chair, dropping his coffee mug as he felt winded. His shadow crawled up from him, looking just as confused as his counterpart. Now what under Hell’s red skies was that?

Ever the curious cat, Alastor found his way through the shadows to a hall nearby, that may just happen to be on Charlie's way to her room. He could feel that it was her magic that had dispelled him, so clearly she was the one to approach for information. He casually made his way in the right direction, humming a sickly sweet tune to himself as he practically waltzed right into the crying princess.

“Oh! Why Charlie, Dear! I didn’t see you there! How did the-” Alastor stopped himself. He was never at a loss for words, but they seemed to flee as he looked down at the poor doll he had knocked over. As expected, she had tears of frustration in her eyes, but less expected was the torn sheets of paper in her clutches, held tightly under extended claws, her palms swollen and blackened. He had noted that the little horns were now an ever-present feature upon her head, but he noticed the way they seemed shifted to red as they extended past her bangs. She glared up at him- the gall of this gal! And stubbornly pushed herself right back up. “Well dear, you look a mess. What is that all about?” He asked, ignoring her razor-sharp claws and taking the ripped sheets from her grasp.

Alastor looked over the now hardly legible sheets- just a shame, too. Charlie, even though she used crayons of all things to scribe with, had such neat handwriting. Charlie gawked at him and moved as if to take the pages back, but seeing the black engulfing her forearms, resolved to tuck her hands under her armpits and glare once more.

“As if you don’t know.” Her glare turned into more of a pout and she moved around the taller demon and marched towards her room.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at her, stuffing the torn sheets into his lapel as he moved to follow her. “How would I know why you are missing that beautiful smile of yours? I am just now coming downstairs.” The demoness's claws seemed to shrink as she took deep breaths, but the discoloration had yet to recede. Alastor mistook this as her feeling guilt for throwing accusations at him but was immediately corrected.

Charlie turned to him, her arms still crossed to (poorly) hide her still receding claws. “You can sit in in the meetings you know. It might be nice to have your input every now and then as a partner of the hotel.” She scoffed and blew a chunk of hair over her horn. “Unless your shadows can talk and not just listen.”

He worked very hard not to let the surprise show on his face. So the Princess could sense his shadows now? Or had she always been able to and had just not said anything until now? Nevertheless, he took the new information in stride.

“If I feel I have input, I will certainly give it.” He fixed the piece of hair that Charlie was still blowing at, refusing to move her hands out from where she hid them. Once it was tucked decently to the side, Alastor made a show of getting in her space. He leaned in close, ignoring the way her red eyes almost faded into her sclera. The Princess valued truth, so he would give it. “While my shadows are decent for listening in to keep me filled in on important matters, they are not great for showing what is actually happening.”

Alastor produced his radio staff- or at least the top half of it. He had been unable to repair it after his scuffle with that loud angel fellow, but he could still hear his broadcasts from the head of it if it was at the right angle. He held it up to Charlie as if that explained everything. Finally, the red faded from her sclera, as her horns receded into her head until they were barely poking up at her bangs. The taller demon smiled down at her as she shook out her palms, the black finally receding to the tips of her fingers once more as she sighed in relief.

“There we are! You really mustn’t work yourself up so, Darling.” After brushing her cheek with the back of his own clawed hand, he moved further down the hallway. Holding the broken staff behind him as he walked, he led the way to another sitting room which would hopefully be empty. He considered for a moment just going to the princess's room, but as much as he loved irritating her, he was wary of her on-edge mood.

Charlie sighed and followed him, making his smile grow wider as he heard the steps echo his own. He took comfort in being in control of the situation, the location of discussion, and now even the Princess's mood. Even if she was still upset, she was considerably in more control of herself than she had been moments ago.

Alastor played the role of comforting friend quite well. He had settled the Princess down on the couch that was near a fireplace, igniting the embers and summoning a fresh glass of honey lavender tea. It did wonders for the headaches you received after crying, you wouldn’t believe! His mother would make him some when he was a lad after he threw one of his fits, and it would put him at ease as she soothed him.

Although he didn’t share any of that with the blonde now curled up against the arm of the couch, she still gratefully went for the cup, and sipped at it as though it were ambrosia, and to spill a single drop would be a sin.

“Now,” Alastor said much softer than he normally would, keeping in mind the fragile state of the creature before him. “What on earth was all that?”

He wouldn’t deny that he was listening in, just as much as he would deny how lost he was at the display of power after the angel had tried to force Charlie to talk to her.

With a sigh and another long sip, Charlie moved the cup to her chest and began to rub around the base of one horn. “I’m not sure actually.” She shrunk in on herself as Alastor made himself comfortable in a recliner across from her. “I was just mad- I don’t know. Frustrated that Vaggie was trying to- to. Well.” another heavy sigh brought the tea back to her lips.

The Radio Demon considered the Demoness across from him. Such a kind and pure soul; such raw, unadulterated power. She could probably strike him down with a single finger, a thought, and a breath. But did she know that? He watched her with careful eyes and she searched the contents of her drink, as though it may carry the words she was looking for. Charlotte Morningstar, heir to the throne of Hell, child of an Archangel, and the original Demon, was like a toddler holding a loaded gun. The safety was off, and while she might understand the danger the weapon posed, she didn’t know how to hold it or fire it without injuring herself.

“Oh, dear.”

Charlie threw her head up at the man, eyes wide as he looked at her, smiling small and cocky as he tutted and shook his head.

“You have no clue how to control those powers of yours, do you?”

Charlie shrunk in on herself, as impossible as it seemed, knees to her chest and chin resting between her knees so she could still see the sinner. She was smart to not take her eyes of him. Why she looked so much like a cornered animal, a hunter standing before it ready to take the kill. But Alastor was smart, too. He knew to be wary of an animal who feels cornered.

Charlie refused to let words escape her lips, but it was just as much a confirmation as Alastor needed in order to steer the conversation. He considered the short and adorable horns peeking from the Princess's temple. Of course, he had noted that they never went away, but he thought about what they could mean. She had formally only shown them during brief moments of weakness and frustration, and the appearance of them was intense but brief. While they usually shot up to a foot, they never lingered for more than a few seconds.

“Perhaps you are too stressed lately, my dear.” Alastor coaxed her, rising from his seat to take her glass. She reluctantly handed it over, not feeling satisfied that she hadn’t been able to finish it, but feeling better even with the little she had received.

“Well, it’s not like I can do anything about it. We finally have patrons coming in. If I can’t handle this then what was the point of it all.” She pushed her hand into her hairline, getting caught on a horn and unmistakably surprising herself with it. She went back to rubbing soothingly around the bases of them. “Of the war, of the death! Of-” She choked, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Alastor put a finger up to his chin, thinking for a moment before summoning a blanket to his hands and dramatically draping it over the princess. Still curled up, it covered her completely, draping over her frame and the back of the couch. She uncurled a little from her ball and poked her head out of the side, the blanket stopping to hang over her face by the pull of her horns. “Al?”

“Sweet Charlie! You really haven’t even had a second since the battle have you?” He danced away towards the door. “I recommend you take the rest of the day to yourself. No paperwork! No patrons! No pesky Vagatha to upset you.” He spun around and gestured as Charlie adjusted the blanket off from her head, causing it to fall down onto her shoulder. “You know, I just checked and she is on her way to your chambers. I doubt you’d get any peace if she found you! Ha!” He laughed heartily as he held his middle. At Charlie's panicked face- and the way her horns grew ever so slightly he relaxed his shoulders and made his way back over to her.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked quietly, and Alastor couldn’t help thinking of how wonderfully helpless she looked, wrapped up in the blanket with tears in her eyes. He casually shrugged and gestured to the princess buried on the couch.

“You could stay here! I doubt dear old Vagatha would think to look in this random Lounge for you.” He laughed again. “It’s the perfect place to have a good rest don’t you think?” He had hardly turned to move towards the door again when Charlie called for him again.

“Alastor! But what about what happened?” She withdrew any pause she had regarding delving her secrets to the dangerous demon. “I don’t know how I did it, or how to avoid doing it again!” Tears broke from her eyes as she clutched the blanket around her tightly, wishing it could suffocate her worries away. “What do I do?” She cried to the demon who stood frozen for only a moment. He corrected himself and relaxed his smile once more.

“Why I already told you, my dear!” He made his way over to her, an animalistic glint in his eyes as he kneeled before her, causing her to hold her breath in anticipation. He reached for her face, causing her to screw her eyes shut. She felt his palm rest over her eyes, the light from the fireplace no longer reaching her through her eyelids. “Rest.” He said as he ran his palm up off of her eyes, and to her forehead. The darkness remained though his hand was no longer there, and as his hand reached them, her horns finally retracted into her scalp. Releasing the tension she had been carrying for weeks there, her brows finally unfurrowed as the darkness spread from her vision to her mind. She was completely relaxed now, sleep quickly finding her. “ Rest .”

#charlastor #alastor #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel #fanfic writing #just fml #His Blue Serge #Chaggie break-up #i love chaggie i really do #but #i am gay for angst

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solaria-creates · 13 days

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Hello, I am Hamdi Al-Shaltawi from the besieged Gaza Strip. My family and I were having the worst days. We managed to escape death several times. My family and I have been displaced for more than a year. We have lost all our work and have had no source of income for nearly 10 months. We worked hard days and inside a tent. I activated an aid link for me and my family so that we could survive this war and travel, but it was not disseminated efficiently. I asked many celebrities to publish it on their pages so that people would win, but the celebrities did not interact with anyone. Please post the link for me and my family on your account so we can raise money please

Please go support Hamdi's campaign in any way possible!! Whether that be reblogging this post, donating whatever you feasibly can, contacting your local politicians about ceasefire, or spreading the word in your circles, we can all do our part to help these people experiencing something I can barely fathom. Below is the description pulled directly from the linked gofundme, please read and reblog!

Currently €1,816 raised of €20,000 goal

The Gaza Strip has been ravaged by ongoing conflict, turning what was once a vibrant community into a place of constant fear and uncertainty. One of those affected is Hamdi, a small business owner who lost everything to the war.

Hamdi used to run a modest shop, a place where he not only made a living but also built connections with his neighbors. It was more than just a business; it was a symbol of stability and hope in a region often plagued by turmoil. However, seven months ago, everything changed. The war escalated, and Hamdi’s shop was destroyed in the crossfire.

Forced to leave his home, Hamdi has had to move from place to place in the Gaza Strip, seeking safety wherever he could find it. He has been evacuated more than seven times, with each move becoming more desperate than the last. He now finds himself living in a tent, with minimal access to food and water.

The impact of the war has not only been material but also deeply personal. Before the conflict, Hamdi was studying at the college of economics, where he had completed two years of his education. He had dreams of earning his degree and using his knowledge to build a better future for himself and his community. But with the escalation of violence and his subsequent displacement, his educational journey has been tragically cut short.

Despite the overwhelming challenges, Hamdi hasn't lost his spirit. He dreams of finding a safe place to start anew, where he can rebuild his life and contribute to his community. To achieve this, he needs to cross into Egypt, but the cost to do so is prohibitively high—far beyond what he can afford on his own.

Your support can make a difference. By contributing to this campaign, you can help Hamdi secure the funds he needs to cross the border and find a place where he can live without fear. With your generosity, he can start to rebuild his life, continue his education, and work towards a brighter future.

Please consider donating to help Hamdi escape the war-torn Gaza Strip. Your contribution, no matter the size, will make a profound impact on his life. Let's help him find safety, security, and the opportunity to start over.

Thank you for your compassion and support.

Workplace before October 7

Workplace after October 7

#gaza genocide #free gaza #gaza strip #gaza #gazaunderattack #fuck israel #free palestine #palestine genocide #all eyes on palestine #palestinian genocide #save palestine #i stand with palestine

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river-in-the-woods · 7 months

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greetings! i'm new to buddhism and i would be curious to know if you have any tips for westerners regarding the practice. i see a lot of people online aggravated by western attitudes at times and as new convert, i would like to avoid contributing to that. thank you!

Hi there :)

I suppose one of the greater issues is that there is a mindset of... shall we say, pioneering and innovation that can be unhelpful when approaching Asian traditions.

Western practitioners like to experiment, change the rules, "fuck around and find out" as they so often say. This works out well enough for them – in fact I think Western practitioners often thrive on their enthusiasm to explore, when it is balanced by discernment – but it is not an attitude that will get them far if they decide to train properly in an Asian tradition.

What we have in Asia that is lacking in Western traditions, are culture, history and esoteric lineages spanning thousands of years, and techniques that have been refined through trial and error with each passing generation. European traditions don't have this kind of unbroken lineage, which creates some distinct differences in mindset.

A Western practitioner might consider themself 'advanced' after 5-10 years of practice. But to become a Buddhist monk, guru/lama or Daoist method master, in that time you might only have just completed basic training (depending on tradition; I'm making broad generalisations here).

There is such a thing as spiritual authority, and Westerners sometimes don't like to hear this. After all, for many, becoming a witch/sorcerer/magician/spiritualist is all about taking fate into your own hands, claiming the universe's power, the church be damned, etc. Asian witchcraft and malefica does exist, however it is not treated as the path of self-liberation and sovereignty as it is in the West, so please do not mistake it as such.

(Diasporic Asians like to claim titles such as 'witch', and this is fine, but just bear in mind this has a decidedly negative connotation when you visit countries in East Asia).

The line between laypeople and ordained monks and priests is very clearly defined, and one is expected to show deference. This does not mean any sort of self-deprecation, rather, to understand one's own limits and keep an open and curious mind. Just as a layperson would not presume to know better than a trained doctor or surgeon.

Therefore, having ample patience will serve you well. You should expect to repeat the same basic practices 100s and 1000s of times, because cultivation is grueling and the path to Buddhahood, Immortality, or what have you, is something that takes lifetimes to achieve.

Now, that may not be your goal. You might simply want to live well in this life, and that is fine. The above message is more for those who aspire for mastery, importance or greatness, but do not yet understand what the journey requires. (I don't claim to understand it myself either).

This might be obvious, but in case it is not... be discerning about who you trust to guide you. There are genuine European/white practitioners who have entered their respective traditions the correct way, and there are Asian frauds and charlatans who have no qualms about using their cultural traditions to con people out of their money. You should respect what people have to say about their cultures and experiences, naturally, but don't use someone's ethnic background as a validation of their skill or character.

Most of all, maintain humility. Humility is the virtue that supports all other virtues. One that I think all of humanity struggles with the most, perhaps because we don’t understand it very well, and our survival has so often required its opposite.

Beyond that, I advise you not to place too much emphasis on seeking knowledge in books or written texts. The main reason for this: published texts on Buddhist practices come from oral traditions that may require empowerment and transmission. The people who publish these texts might not understand this, or they are relying on the good faith of spiritual seekers. One does themself a great disservice if they believe they can bypass the guidance of a teacher from a long-standing lineage.

The other reason is that the wisdom, capacity and personal growth one gains through cultivation is experiential. It can only be gained through consistent practice. A skillful teacher can guide you on the path, but ultimately, the real thing cannot be taught, and all words fail to capture its true majesty.

I hope this helps, and doesn't come across as too intimidating. Take it slow, let the path unfold before you, and enjoy each day as it comes. Keep a green bough in your heart, and the singing bird will come 💚

#cultivation #buddhism #asian witchcraft #daoism #taoism #asian spirituality #inbox #anonymous #resources

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hyperbolicreverie · 6 months

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Hello! If you don’t mind me asking, what is everyone’s aspect in the deification au? Law is death and Robin is knowledge, and I’m assuming Luffy is freedom, but I’m having trouble pinning down the others. It’s such a fun au, and so far I’m absolutely loving it! Thank you so much, have a great day!

It's a fun little AU, especially since it's so collaborative. Other people who have contributed to it have slightly different or more established takes on the characters than I do, which I think is appropriate given how real life mythologies tend to blur interpretations of gods and what they stand for.

Law is death, Robin is knowledge, and Luffy is freedom, that's all correct. Sabo is also freedom, but of a different flavor than Luffy. Zoro is strength, Sanji is a hearth deity, Nami is associated with weather and sea navigation, Kid and Killer are slightly different kinds of vengeance/revenge. Usopp is associated with truth and lies and storytelling, and Chopper is medicine and healing.

#rev speaks #deification au

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silvfyre-writings · 27 days

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Misfortune and Misery Final Pt. (BSD Fanfic)

Crossposted from AO3

If everyone could see me now, they’d be horrified.

Working with Mori and Kajii to find a cure, how far I’ve fallen.

Ranpo still lives, but he’s rarely conscious these days.

I promised to cure him.

I’m not sure I can keep that promise anymore.

—Yosano Akiko

Studying the infection proved harder when under the scrutiny of two doctor’s whose methods were far more different to her own. There was the fact that Mori didn’t let morals affect his work, throwing them aside to achieve whatever goal he’d set his mind on. And in terms of finding a cure, it had meant allowing his underlings to perish so he could study their corpses. A failure, considering the high and mighty Mafia had been reduced to just four people.

And then there was Kajii, who wasn’t even a medically trained doctor to begin with. A doctor he may have been, but the eccentric man’s skills lay in physics, not medicine, although he was knowledgeable enough in the latter to understand and contribute to discussions. If you could get him to stop thinking about death long enough to think about life. Even Mori seemed content to ignore his underling, sending him off to grab infection samples with Gin, who remained a silent presence at the edge of the room at all times.

There was grief in their eyes though, no doubt mourning the loss of their brother. Yosano couldn’t fault them for that.

As for Nakahara, he’d been delegated as the supply runner. His immunity to the infection enabled him to go out and nab the supplies they needed without posing a risk to the rest of them, and Yosano had to admit that most of her focus was turned to that one fact. Immunity. She’s seen resistance, as was the case with Atsushi, but never immunity, and it left her curious. But the one time she’d gone to ask, Mori had simply smiled at her and ignored her question, clearly unwilling to share the secret with her.

Oh well, she’d find out soon enough.

Most of Yosano’s time was spent at a desk, reading through the notes that Mori had taken on the infection before the collapse of the Mafia, and she in turn, shared her own notes. Not once did the smile leave his face as she read over what she had written, which irked her, because in those notes were her friends last moments, their last words if they’d managed to speak them, and here Mori was, reading them like they were just a bedtime story. It only made her strive to work harder, determined to wipe that smile off Mori’s face, no matter what, which often led to sleepless nights and long days that had her eyes aching by the end of it.

There was no way she could stop now, not when she finally had a chance to actually cure this infection with the supplies that Mori provided.

Her previous failures loomed at the back of her mind—Dazai, Kunikida and everyone else—where they would remain until the end of time, the memories of their struggles forever imprinted on her, changing her. Yosano’s eyes drifted across the room towards where Ranpo lay under a mound of blankets, an IV in his hand that provided constant pain relief.

Her most recent failure.

Since arriving, Ranpo hadn’t regained consciousness—that was a lie, he had, but rarely was he coherent enough to hold a conversation. Half the time he didn’t even know which doctor it was that was handling him. Yosano was just grateful that the painkillers meant that her friend was finally getting the rest he needed. It felt like it’d been years, instead of months, since Ranpo had last gotten a decent rest. For Yosano, it felt even longer. She hadn’t really wound down since the first case of the infection was announced to the public.

She knew that she should, but she just couldn’t stop.

“Oi.” Yosano blinked, and turned towards Nakahara, the redhead coming to stop in front of her. In one arm, a plate of food, and in the other, more samples. She reached out for both.

“Thank you, Nakahara.” Yosano said, taking a bite of her meal, which was nothing more than a packet of biscuits. Food was becoming scarce the longer the infection raged throughout Yokohama.

Nakahara clicked his tongue. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Chuuya?” Before she could even open her mouth to respond, he continued. “No matter. Came to tell you that the detective bastard is awake. Like, properly awake.”

Yosano was on her feet in an instant. “Ranpo’s awake?”

“Yeah.” Nakah—Chuuya—shrugged. “Gin’s sitting with him right now. He’s stressing, so hurry your ass over there.”

Don’t have to tell me twice. Yosano raced over to Ranpo’s bed, falling to her knees beside it so that she was in Ranpo’s eyeline. Relief filled her at the clarity in those green eyes that she’d begun to miss, and she was even more relieved when they locked onto her, the tension leaving Ranpo’s body in an instant. “Yosano…”

On Ranpo’s other side, leaning against the headboard, was Gin, and with a shared look between the two of them, they crawled off the bed and went to go talk with Chuuya. Yosano focused her attention back on Ranpo, reaching out with one hand to grasp Ranpo’s own, squeezing gently. “Welcome back.”

Ranpo frowned, his eyes drifting about, taking in his surroundings. Confusion filled his face, but only for a moment as understanding dawned soon after. “You went to the Port Mafia.”

“I did. Are you mad?”

“No…” Ranpo blinked, tired. His fingers twitched within her hold—he was trying to reassure her, she realised—and he sighed. “There is no right or wrong here. But here is probably better.”

Yosano hummed, and deigned to change the subject. “Tell me how you feel?”

“I can’t really move my arm.” Ranpo frowned, concentrating hard. Only one of the fingers on his left hand twitched, which is concerning, considering Yosano only healed his arm just before bringing them both to the Port Mafia. “And everything aches, but it’s not, ya know, painful. Like before.”

“I understand.” Yosano said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Can you sit up? I want to check your arm.”

With some difficulty, and Yosano’s help, Ranpo managed to sit up, collapsing against the headboard, breathing heavily from just that quick bout of exertion. Yosano waited patiently, giving Ranpo the moment to catch his breath, slowly unravelling the bandages to check on the wound underneath. The bandages aren’t bloodstained which gives her hope—at least, until the layers fall away and reveal nothing but bone underneath them. No skin, no muscle, just bone.

“Mmm… that’s not good.” Ranpo said, looking down at his arm. A finger twitches again. “No wonder I can’t move it.”

“That is indeed a very dead arm. I’m impressed you can even move a finger considering there’s no nerves or muscles left.” Mori’s voice caused Yosano to jump, not having expected the man to just materialise out of nowhere. She spun around to snap at Mori, but the doctor was already speaking again, ignoring her entirely as he took Ranpo’s arm into his own grip, studying it. “No blood at all either, this must’ve happened a while ago.”

“I healed his arm before we came here.” Yosano grumbled.

“Did you?” Mori sounded surprised, and looked over his shoulder. “When did we last clean Edogawa’s wounds?”

“Four days ago, Boss.” Chuuya answered. “There was no blood to indicate a wound that needed cleaning at the time.”

Gin signed something rapidly with her hands.

“Gin says that she didn’t notice anything either.”

Yosano frowned. She knew she’d healed the arm, had watched the flesh regrow over the bones before rewrapping the limb in fresh bandages. Could the flesh really have rotted away in the few hours between that moment and running into Chuuya? It didn’t seem likely, or well, more like she didn’t want it to be, but there was no denying that it had to be an old wound if no one noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“No matter.” Mori’s words interrupted her thoughts. He dropped the limb back against the bed not too kindly, yet Ranpo didn’t even react, just stared down at his arm. Mori raised his eyebrows. “The limb is effectively dead, so it needs to be removed—especially if your ability failed to heal it, Yosano. I do vaguely recall you not being able to heal what had already died.”

The words crashed right through Yosano’s heart, and the memory of a soldier and a swarm of butterflies flashed by. Her hands curled into fists; eyes squeezed shut as she pushed that memory away. She wasn’t that person anymore. She’d grown, become stronger, until the memory was just that; a memory. It would always be there, lingering in the back of her mind every time she used her ability, but she no longer let it rule her. Or at least, she tried not to let it, but every day, it grew harder as she was confronted with death and more death because of this cursed infection.

And on the odd occasion, sometimes she would see Shunzen instead of Ranpo laying in that bed, vacant eyes following her every move.

She took a breath. “Then we remove the limb, simple as that.”

This time it was Ranpo that sighed, looking down at his arm with a forlorn expression. “Goodbye arm, it was nice having you around.”

Yosano chuckled, despite the serious atmosphere.

Leave it up to Ranpo to lighten the mood with some dark humour.

Together, Yosano and Mori worked to remove Ranpo’s arm, much to Yosano’s chagrin. But there wasn’t much choice when her only other option was Kajii, who loitered in the corner of the room until they removed the limb, dashing forward to snatch it from Yosano’s grasp before she could even blink, leaving the room equally as fast shouting something over his shoulder about needing it for research. Really, all she could do then was blink, stunned and what had just happened, and only moved when Mori called for her to use her ability.

Butterflies filled the room, yet Ranpo’s arm didn’t return.

She tried not to feel disheartened about it; there was nothing she could do when the person she was using her ability on no longer had the strength to regenerate. Ranpo had already gone through so many healings and amputations since becoming infected that she was surprised it didn’t happen sooner. It hurt though, to know that unless she found a cure soon, that Ranpo would die, and there wasn’t anything she’d be able to do about it.

She’d known for some time that she was running out of time, but now it’d become real.

Once the procedure was done, Yosano found herself left alone with Ranpo, and didn’t hesitate to crawl into the bed beside her friend, carefully resting her head over his chest, listening to his heart as it beat beneath her ear. It stuttered and skipped ahead, but it was strong, and that was all that mattered at the moment. The arrythmia wasn’t something they could combat anyway, not when there were other problems that took priority.

For the first time since Yosano was a child, before the war had taken her innocence, she prayed—not to a God, because she’d long been abandoned by them, but to her deceased companions.

She prayed that Dazai was watching over the love that he’d left behind.

She prayed that Kunikida was guiding them along the ideal path.

She prayed that Fukuzawa was giving them the strength to keep fighting.

“I need some flesh from Edogawa.” Kajii stood behind Yosano, arms crossed, seeming not to care that she was in the middle of shoving food down Ranpo’s throat. And before she could even consider the absurdity of the request, the scientist snapped. “Now would be—”

“Absolutely not.” Yosano interrupted before she’d even understood what was being asked of her. In the silence that followed, the words registered, and she stood, becoming a barrier between Kajii and Ranpo. “Absolutely not.”

Kajii glared at her from behind his glasses. “This isn’t me asking, this is me telling. I need his flesh, a decent chunk of it too.”

“You will kill him!” Yosano snarled. Across the room, Chuuya watched carefully, eyes flicking between the two doctors. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she refused to just let it happen, not without a proper explanation. And considering who it was that was asking, she couldn’t imagine that it was anything good. “Ranpo is not some guinea pig for your sick fantasies!”

A sigh came from the man, and he shrugged, shaking his head as he muttered to himself more than anyone else. “Oh well, I tried being nice about it. Nakahara! If you’d be so kind as to restrain our new friend, that would be much appreciated. I have work to do that doesn’t involve playing nursemaid to a dead man.”

Chuuya sauntered over to them, deliberately slow, and came to a stop between the two. He first focused on Yosano, thinking, before he turned to face Kajii. “Only if you tell us what you plan to do with that flesh, Kajii. Otherwise she’ll be the one taking your flesh, and I won’t help you there.”

“Ugh, fine. I need it to study the infection. I have a theory.”

Yosano calmed immediately. “A theory? What kind of theory?”

“Not the kind worth sharing yet.” Kajii rolled his eyes and waved an arm in Ranpo’s direction. “Now will you let me take my pound of flesh or not?”

Yosano hesitated. Should she do it? What if she agreed, and it was the final straw for Ranpo, and he died? She’d never be able to live with herself if that was the case.

But what if it helped? What if Kajii’s theory was a step to finding a cure? She tried to think about what Ranpo would do—an easy thing to figure out, because Ranpo wouldn’t agree to such a thing if he was conscious enough to even consider the idea. But… Ranpo wasn’t conscious anymore, hadn’t been since they amputated his arm a week prior. It wasn’t because anything had gone wrong—both she and Mori had checked his vitals when he’d failed to wake.

Ranpo simply didn’t have the strength to gain consciousness again.

It’d been the worst week of Yosano’s life, alternating between cleaning wounds that were no longer bandaged—because what was the point when they didn’t stop the infection in the first place?—and shoving mushed up food down Ranpo’s throat so that he didn’t starve, so he could still have a fighting chance despite everyone else believing that he was already dead. She couldn’t help but laugh at that point—what else could she do? Optimism did nothing, clinging to hope was futile, and praying was just empty words to help herself.

Which was why, after another minute or so of thinking, she moved away from Ranpo. “Fine. Just… don’t hurt him. Please.”

Kajii opened his mouth, the beginning of a taunt on his lips, but a warning look from Chuuya had him backpedalling, and he sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll do my best not to hurt your precious detective friend.”

“Thank you.” Yosano said, and turned away. She couldn’t bear to watch.

How hypocritical of her.

She’d watched her friends, her family, waste away and perish around her, watched their flesh melt off their bones, and yet, she couldn’t even stand by Ranpo’s side while he was mutilated?

She was a terrible friend.

A sudden hand against her shoulder caused Yosano to jump, and she turned her head to see Gin standing beside her, a sympathetic look on their face. After a moment, they wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a one-armed embrace. Yosano appreciated the gesture, and leaned closer. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been held—certainly not once since the epidemic had begun, and all at once, emotions welled from deep within her. Just that one, kind gesture—even though it was from someone who had once been an enemy—was enough, and everything that Yosano had been holding back since all of this began, bubbled over.

She didn’t breakdown, but tears did begin to fall down her cheeks. Her body trembled and shook as she listened to Kajii work behind her, and despite not looking, she could picture what was happening, and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

It felt like she was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, one that had no end in sight.

“He’ll pull through.” Gin’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible, but certain. “Edogawa Ranpo has survived this long. I’m sure he’ll survive this.”

Yosano wiped her eyes. “Thank you. For believing in him.”

Gin simply smiled, and hugged her closer.

It was several days before Kajii reemerged from whatever dark corner he’d sequestered himself away in. And in those days, Ranpo had only grown weaker—not that his condition had been helped after having a giant hunk of flesh gouged out of him. Yosano had, of course, healed the damage afterwards, but it still hadn’t prevented the drop in vitals. They hung so low now, it was clear that Ranpo’s body was doing the bare minimum to keep him alive, and no matter how many drugs they ran through his IV, his vitals never improved. They stabilised, but never improved.

Yosano was grateful to Gin and Chuuya though, as they often sat with her, and helped her take care of Ranpo. She could tell that they thought her efforts pointless, that she was wasting her time, but still, they offered their help, and she accepted it.

She hadn’t been lying when she said she wasn’t ready to let go of Ranpo yet, and those words still rang true now.

“If it pleases the crowd to know, I, Kajii Motojiro, have figured out the origin of this infection!” Kajii announced, slamming the door open, a massive grin on his face as he strode into the room, dragging a whiteboard behind him. Right on his heels, was Mori, deep in thought, and not at all paying attention to the rest of them.

No matter, Yosano thought, turning her attention towards Kajii. She was much more interested in what he had to say than in whatever cryptic shit Mori was planning. And from the looks on Gin and Chuuya’s faces, they too, were interested, coming closer to listen to their colleague.

Without waiting to see if they were even ready, Kajii spun around, procuring a whiteboard marker from somewhere and began to draw a diagram on the board. “Now, pay attention, because I’m only going to say this once! But this little infection that we have on our hands is actually quite unique. Through countless samples, and Yosano’s notes, along with the Boss’, I have discovered that this infection only targets the muscles of the body.”

The muscles? Yosano frowned. It made sense, a lot of sense actually, because the infection always gave the appearance of the body rotting away from the inside out, but not once had she seen it affect bones, and as she thought more about it, realised that the same was true for skin. Sure, there were the gaping wounds, and the cracks that formed, but that could be attested to the muscles deteriorating and wasting away. After all, without muscles, the skin would simply fall off, since there was no longer anything keeping it attached to the body. It explained why, when she’d first seen Ranpo’s arm, there’d been a few pieces of skin hanging on, and nothing else. It also explained why Fukuzawa’s arms had been completely bare when he died, nothing but bones. The muscle had simply died and rotted away.

Yosano brought a hand up to her mouth, thinking hard. If that was the case, and the infection was attacking just the muscle, then the possibly of a cure was closer than she’d first thought. Bacteria was the most common cause of muscular infections—sepsis, pyomyositis, psoas—and most of the time, antibiotics were the only way of treating them. And considering the rate of infection, followed then by the quickly growing mortality rate, along with Yokohama being shut off, the supply of antibiotics was probably next to nothing. But knowing Mori, he probably had plenty stored up, hoarding them for some reason or another.

“Oi, Agency doctor! Are you listening to me?”

Yosano blinked, and lifted her head. Everyone—including Mori who’d returned at some point—was staring at her. “What?”

Kajii huffed and tapped the whiteboard. “Here I was explaining that we were going to cure Edogawa, and you weren’t even listening! Rude!”

“Cure… him…?” Yosano’s eyes scanned over the whiteboard, taking in the diagrams and the notes that Kajii had scribbled on the board.

Core…

Ultrasound…

Excise—

Heal.

Understanding dawned on her, and hope began to rise. She glanced over towards Ranpo, to watch her friend’s chest rise and fall. “We can cure him.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying, god.” Kajii rolled his eyes. “Of course, there’s still a chance he might die, since he’s, you know, more of a corpse than anything right now—”

“He’ll live.” Yosano interrupted, levelling Kajii with a glare that promised pain if he tried to suggest otherwise. She refused to give up hope now, not when there was a chance, a possibility, that Ranpo could still be saved. Kajii fell silent, and Yosano turned her gaze towards Mori. “He. Will. Live.”

Mori inclined his head, for once looking like the doctor he was supposed to be. “I assure you, Yosano, that saving Fukuzawa’s prodigy is what I intend on doing. But time is of the essence. We must do this now. Edogawa Ranpo is close to death. If you truly wish to cure him, you must be willing to go along with the plan.” The doctor stepped towards her—much like he had once in the war—and she fought the urge to step back. She stood tall as Mori bowed to be eye level with her. “Can you manage that, Yosano? Will you throw away what humanity you have clung to, to save the life of the one person you have left? Because if you balk, he will die.”

Once upon a time, a decade ago at this point, Ranpo had stood in front of Yosano and told her that he and Fukuzawa hadn’t rescued her for her ability, but her desire to do good in a world that was filled with bad. He had told her that her ability didn’t control her, and that she in fact, controlled it. And all the while she’d struggled with self-worth, and nightmares of what had happened during the war, Ranpo had stood by her side, never wavering in his support, always assuring her that she was still her—still human.

She was not the twelve-year-old girl that had broken and shattered.

She was not Mori’s necromancer.

She was Yosano Akiko, the doctor of the Armed Detective Agency.

And she was going to do her damn best, to save the reason that it existed in the first place.

“Fine. What do you need me to do.”

“To sit there and hold Edogawa’s hand, and heal him every time Kajii and I find something.” Mori said, finally leaning back now that she’d agreed to help out. “Kajii’s research suggests that the infection has a core from which it originates, it’s just a matter of finding the core so to speak. As such, we haven’t been able to distinguish the flesh of the core from the rest of the infected flesh from the sample’s we’ve taken. So either we simply haven’t found the core, or it is very good at blending in.”

“So you intend to excise all the infected flesh from Ranpo, and have me heal him.” Yosano sighed. It made sense, and she hated that it did, because it meant that she couldn’t reasonably argue against them going ahead with their plan. They’d already warned her that there was a high chance that Ranpo could still die from the damage that they intended to do—wait.

Hold up.

Yosano looked about the room, until she found what she was looking at. A one Nakahara Chuuya, manipulator of gravity. “You.”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow at her. “Me?”

“How well can you use your ability?”

“That depends on what you’re needing it for.” Chuuya said. “I manipulate whatever I touch, so I would like to say that I can use it very well, considering it’s mine.”

Chuuya’s tone was one that Yosano recognised as one she’d used herself when starting to learn to use her own ability again, and in that moment, she felt she understood the redhead better.

“How about blood?”

An understanding look crossed Chuuya’s face. “I’ve manipulated blood before, but that’s in killing people. Never used it before to save someone.”

“I see…” Mori interjected, bringing a hand to his chin. “By having Chuuya use his gravity manipulation, we would be able to reroute Edogawa’s bodily functions, and keep him alive that way while we operate…”

“It just means you can’t fail, Boss, once I’m in there.”

The grin on Mori’s face was unsettling. “Chuuya, Chuuya, when have I ever failed?”

Yosano shivered at the cold feeling those words brought.

Yosano took a deep breath from where she sat, on the bed behind Ranpo, her friends head resting in her lap. The ran her fingers through Ranpo’s hair, hoping to ease the pinched expression on his face somewhat. On her left, Chuuya sat in a chair beside the bed, waiting to do his part in keeping Ranpo alive—Yosano was still grateful that he’d agreed to help, because it improved her friend’s chances of survival, and Ranpo needed every chance he could get.

Beside Chuuya, was Mori, intentionally done as a buffer considering that Yosano was already on edge enough, and would be watching Mori like a hawk to make sure that he didn’t try anything funny. Mori hadn’t been offended when she’d suggested it, instead agreeing with her readily; apparently, he was well aware of the prejudice she still held against him.

Not that it would ever leave.

The only downside to Mori being on that side meant that Kajii was on the other side, although it wasn’t the worst thing to happen, considering that the first time they’d met, Yosano and wound up beating the shit out the man; something the other man clearly remembered from the way he kept side-eyeing her.

And Gin was at the foot of the bed, not expected to help, but ready to act if necessary.

There was tension in the room as they all prepared for what was to come.

Fail, and Ranpo died.

Succeed, and they cure the infection.

No pressure.

“Are we ready?” Mori asked, reaching over towards the surgical table to pick up a scalpel. “First, we are going to give Chuuya access to Edogawa’s heart, and from there we’ll work on excising the infected muscles.” Mori glanced towards her. “Is that an appropriate course?”

Yosano nodded, her hands stilling. “Yes. It is.”

Mori nodded, and made the first cut, and from there, a tense silence fell upon the room. The wasn’t much noise, just that of the machine that showed them Ranpo’s vitals, steadily beeping away, and quiet instructions as Mori and Kajii spoke between each other. Yosano knew that she should be focused, that she should be listening to what was going on so that she would be ready to act if it came down to it. She was hoping that she wouldn’t have to though—that they’d be able to rely on Chuuya to keep Ranpo alive instead of her ability.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Yosano watched as Mori cracked open Ranpo’s chest, shifting his lungs to reveal his heart. It was time for Chuuya to do his part now. The redhead leaned forward, reaching out with a gloveless, yet sanitised hand, to grab onto Ranpo’s heart. Gently, because hearts were fragile, and the slightest mistake would have Ranpo bleed out on them. At first, Yosano had protested the lack of gloves, but Chuuya had said that he’d have better control if he didn’t wear them, so the decision was made to forgo them, as much as it pained her internal doctor to allow such a thing.

Ranpo’s heart beat within Chuuya’s hand, and in seconds, the executive’s hand and forearm was nothing but a bloody mess. Chuuya didn’t pull away, nor did he make a face at the grotesque scenario. All he did was stare, determined, as he concentrated, hard. A red glow enveloped both Chuuya and Ranpo then, and they all watched as Ranpo’s vitals began to climb, Chuuya manipulating his blood to properly circulate throughout his body, as though the wounds the infection had left weren’t even there in the first place.

For the first time in months, Ranpo looked healthy.

After several minutes had passed, Chuuya nodded, his signal for them to continue, and both Mori and Kajii dived in then, working fast and precise to track down the worst of the infected flesh and excise it. The goal was to find the core, since if they managed to find that and remove it, it was highly likely that the rest of the infected cells would just die without the host to keep them going, and Yosano could then use her ability to fix the damage left behind. But of course, nothing was ever simple, and she could only watch as creases formed between Mori’s eyes, the older man no doubt frustrated at not being able to immediately find it.

Even Mori’s seemingly endless patience had a limit.

“Stubborn infection—”

“There’s a mass of infected muscle over here, Boss—"

“Don’t cut so fast, Kajii, Chuuya can only move so fast—”

Yosano kept her eyes shut, just listening, because she couldn’t bear to watch them essentially dismantle her best friend’s body in front of her. She was a doctor, yes, and had seen plenty of blood and gore over the years of being one, but still, this was Ranpo, and watching him be cut up, watching his flesh be removed in chunks, was too much for her. Besides, keeping her eyes closed didn’t exactly help much anyway; she could still easily imagine what was happening, as the language that Mori and Kajii used was the same as any doctor.

Oh how she wished she wasn’t a doctor right now.

In the end, it was Chuuya that discovered the core, and just by sheer luck. In circulating Ranpo’s blood around his body, he’d worked hard to navigate and recreate the flow of blood as it would normally act, making concessions where he needed to when there was simply too little to work with. Which was how he’d discovered the mass tucked away in Ranpo’s lower back that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move around it. It was like there was a wall tucked away within the flesh there, refusing entry to anything that tried to break through.

“I found something.” Chuuya said, his voice drawing the attention of everyone else in the room, and nodded his head towards Gin. “Lower back, on the right.”

Gin moved to the side that Mori stood on, and reached over to help roll Ranpo onto his hip, so that they could examine the area that Chuuya mentioned.

Yosano opened her eyes and shifted so that she could see the spot.

Gin pressed their hand against a spot, looking to Chuuya, who shook his head. “Not there.”

Lower. “No.”

Outside. “Close.”

Higher. “There.”

Gin kept their hand on Ranpo’s back, about a hand width from the beginning of his ribcage, and didn’t move until Mori ducked around to examine the spot for himself. Mori felt around the area, eyes widening when the flesh underneath his hand didn’t sink beneath his touch, not like the rest of the rotting flesh had. “Well now, that is fascinating. Kajii, we’ll be excising this spot. Yosano, prepare to heal.”

Yosano nodded, and watched intensely this time, as Mori and Kajii cut into the flesh, carving around the lump that looked no different to the rest of Ranpo’s body. Even though she’d examined Ranpo once he’d become infected, she’d never noticed the spot. It left her swimming in guilt that if she’d just been a little more thorough, and more level-headed, that maybe she could’ve stopped the infection sooner.

No.

She squashed the guilt down. What’s done is done, I can’t change the past, she told herself. There was no point in feeling guilty anymore, she’d already crossed that bridge, and would continue to cross it in the future no doubt. But right now, she needed to focus on the good that was happening right in front of her.

The moment that the flesh was removed from Ranpo’s body, Chuuya pulled his hand out, and in between the second that he did, and the one where Ranpo flatlined, butterflies filled the room. Yosano watched as the wounds caused by the surgery healed up, watched the cracks in his skin close over, and the muscles that had rotted away, regenerate.

Even the arm they’d amputated regenerated.

It was premature to rejoice, but Yosano couldn’t help but feel joy as Ranpo’s vitals began to rise; his heartrate, his pulse-ox—all of them began to level out to what they’d been before he became infected. Looking at him right now, he looked like a healthy person. He looked alive.

“Well, I say we give it a few days before we confirm it, but I’d say we cured it.” Mori said, looking overly pleased with himself. Even the rest of the Port Mafia members looked pleased—tired, but pleased.

Yosano was surprised when Mori turned to her.

“You did well, Yosano. It was your notes—specifically the ones on Fukuzawa, that enabled Kajii’s theory.”

“My notes…?” Yosano thought back to her notes, her treatment plan for Fukuzawa that had ended in absolute disaster, because she’d healed him, and he’d survived, only to—oh.

She’d hit the core.

She’d hit the core, and the core of the infection had responded by lashing out.

“I was so close.” Tears welled in her eyes, because she had been so close to curing the infection, and all because she hadn’t gone that little bit further, she’d failed. I’m sorry, Fukuzawa!

“I hope… you aren’t crying over me… again.” Yosano froze at the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard in several weeks, and looked down to see Ranpo looking up at her, blinking tiredly like he’d just woken up from a nap instead of life-saving surgery.

Yosano wiped her eyes quickly, and smiled at him. “Of course not.” It was a lie, but Ranpo didn’t need to know that right now. “They’re happy tears.”

It took a few seconds for her words to register, and a tired smile broke out on his face. “You cured me?”

“I cured you.”

Ranpo huffed, and closed his eyes, the smile still on his face. “I never lost faith that you would.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #edogawa ranpo #yosano akiko #nakahara chuuya #mori ougai #motojirou kajii #angst #cw: gore #infection au #writing #fanfic

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