#but he had friends from both sides of the religious divide

[callmemana]

Arms Wide Open, Catch Me If I Fall:

Chapter 5: Home In The Sky

Word Count: 3k+

Dual POV story (Birdie & Bob {please message me if the POV switch isn’t detectable and I’ll figure out a way to show that its switched between the characters})

🚨Warnings: inaccurate Naval descriptions, angst and floof. Mentions of Depression, suicide, drunkards, abuse, and religious views. Please if you suffer from depression talk to someone. I’m always here if you need an ear! 💛

A/N: dividers by @sligheach-sidhe , cover by me ( @callmemana ).

A/N 2: This is very personal to me and something that my family has gone through. I know that not very many people have the support system I had growing up and had people to talk to about the importance of mental health. It’s not something to joke about or not take seriously.

A/N 3: this is part 1 of 2, the next chapter will be a continuation. 💛 check out LP for more info on ‘Katie’!

It had been a couple of weeks and Amanda had finally settled into the Dagger Squad and San Diego and met the rest of the ‘Chaos Squad’ and the Daggers’ Aviator Mamas, Rachael Dragon Kazansky and Jade Whiskey Kerner.

Birdie met Whiskey when one day after Bird had just got home from walking Ozzy. Mickey and Baylie forgot that they had a guest and were being loud in the bedroom.

She didn’t stay long after the loud moans could be heard around the house.

So, with wanting to get away and let the newly-weds have their alonetime Bird went to the library. She was in the romance books when she literally ran into Commander Jade Whiskey Kerner.

“I’m so sorry Commander, I didn’t mean to run into you.” she rushed as she moved aside.

The older woman just laughed and they both sat down together and talked for hours until Bay called and asked where she’d gone.

Bird had gotten to know the other squad members and formed a good bond with all of them. Bo and her started to mend the relationship slowly but surely.

We were laughing and joking every once in a while and Bird started to call him Bo instead of Robert again here and there, which she could tell made his smile wider if possible.

She wanted to be able to trust him full-heartily, but he betrayed that in Lemoore and it would take work and effort on both sides to see this be mended to what it was.

Bird was willing and she could tell he was too, but how long will it last before he loses his temper or decides that he can’t go through it again.

They were on a team now and from what she’s been told, Bay and Mickey were on the Uranium mission and are better than ever, so why did he push her away?

Robert and her could be half way done with the wedding planning by now, she could’ve sent the ‘Save The Date’ cards to their families and friends and she’d have her dress already.

She’d have a dress, a wedding dress that would take his breath away and make him cry from Birdie’s beauty and her father would walk her down the aisle, tears in his eyes as he gives his only daughter to the man she loved.

Hailey and Heather would be Maid of Honor and a Bride’s Maid, standing by her side as Bo and her said their vows and exchanged rings.

Bird had this imagine in her mind since she said “Yes!” all those months ago when everything was happy and great.  

After the first week of being in the Dagger Squad and already tired of Hangman and Rooster’s constant bitching and competitiveness, Birdie went to the closest Walmart and bought a Disney Princess kids’ dress up set.

The next day, Birdie went onto base and put the tiara in her locker and as soon as either of the boys started to bitch about who was the best of the group.

She asked for them to wait as she grabbed it and hid the plastic crown behind her back as she walked back in.

When she revealed the tiara, everyone was confused, but the looks on their faces quickly turned into smiles and laughter as Bird placed it on Roos’ head and said, “You have been crowned the Bitch of the Day. As you see fit My Majesty.” and bowed.  

All the aviators, except Bob, took turns slamming their hands and fists onto the top of her helmet.

Most of them were nice, but Baylie was the most ruthless, always making sure that Birdie could feel the vibrations through the helmet.

Birdie new that once Bo got comfortable again, he’d be the nicest one, but until then, Mickey was.

Fanboy saw her as a little sister and always made sure that Bird was treated nicely when he was around.

After a month of being a guest in the Garcia’s house, seeing, learning, and hearing things that new friends shouldn’t, Birdie had put in a request for a on-base house and is currently waiting for an opening.

She had been to the Hard Deck and met Penny, Amelia, and Grace, but preferred to be called her honorary callsign; Spicy.

The girls of the Dagger Squad, Grace and Alana, and Rachael and Jade became a squad of their own, known around the base and off as the Chaos Squad.

This little grouping of chaotic women didn’t help Bird’s nonexistent relationship with Cyclone, especially after meeting with his wife, Robyn Venom Simpson.

She also had been introduced to Roos’ step-mother, Grace O’Mally Bradshaw. Both women were lovely and so much fun to be around.

Birdie didn’t want the six months to go by too quickly so she had enough time to really get to know the group and form a tight friendship with each of them.

She was going to be sad when the time period was up and she was deployed to another base, but this is what she signed up for years ago.

Bird just wanted to mend one relationship when she first arrived and now was lucky enough to walk away with more friendships than she though she would.

She also would walk away with a family. A father and mother, aunt and uncle, sisters and brothers that will always be in her life no matter what.

Even if Bo and her don't bury the hatchet, the others have told her so many times when she’d voiced her concern over the subject.

Ozzy was happier too, he had more people to love and care for him now and was loving every bit of attention that the others were giving him.

It had been more than once that Ozzy had kicked Mickey out of the bed so he could snuggle Baylie.

Bird knew when Ozzy was with Bay when Mickey is getting comfy on the couch, she’d always offer to get Oz and he could be with his wife.

He always waved her off and said that Bay’s been wanting a dog for a while and if this is keeping her mind off of one for them, he’d happily give up his bed.

We were also briefed on another upcoming mission and the team started training and had been doing good.

There was more time to complete the training this time too, which Birdie was thankful for, she’d just joined the squad.

It was crazy to think that these few weeks together had felt like a lifetime already and Bird wouldn’t change anything if it meant that she’d never met them.

Don’t get her wrong, Bird was beyond sad when Bo broke her heart, but it kinda feels worth it now.

Because without that lost, she wouldn’t have gained a family, a very chaotic family, but one none the less.

Bird felt as if she was home. Bo helped with that, he had been her home for four years prior and Bird couldn’t stop thinking as him as that.

Robert Floyd has had her heart since that day on the trail for training in bootcamp and he gave Birdie that rock after telling her that he would keep the little mushroom she had picked just for him.

Bird knows that it's stupid to say that was the moment he took her heart, over a silly little thing as a mushroom, but it was.

Bo took the little fungus and while others would’ve thrown it over their shoulders when I wasn’t looking, he kept it, and later in the recreational room, he gifted me a rock.

Even if he didn’t realize it, he spoke my love language, sentimental gifts that make no sense to anyone else but us.

I was grateful to have a friend that finally understood me and embraced my quirks.

Not that Athena didn’t, she did, but she got tired of it sometimes.

Bird doesn’t blame her though, having a neurodivergent friend can be exhausting when they have hyper-activity and can’t focus on anything and everything most days.

Bo took the randomness of me as if it was an exciting adventure and had the patience of a Saint to wait for me when it was harder to keep on tasks.

He was considerate when I said I was overwhelmed and noticed the signs when I was too scared of ruining his night by leaving early.

Bo never got upset or argued, he’d just say an excuse for us to leave and then we’re in his car and going home.

Bird’s family never really got why she had a harder time on some of the subjects at school, but after a teacher had spotted the symptoms of Attention Deficit Disorder or ADD, she recomended that Birdie gets tested.

When the results came back positive and they started her on some medication to help, her grades went up and she was focusing better on tasks, but her family still sometimes treated her as before.

The family she had in San Diego though, they understood and also took the time to help her, just like they do for Mouse.

The squads watch for certain behaviors and try to soothe the others’ emotions.

Just like when Roos noticed Bird was nervous and overwhelmed before flying on her first day back at Top Gun and knew that she needed to do a pre-flight ritual.

He was there for Bird even if he didn’t know exactly what she needed.

Amanda finally found a group of friends that understand and are willing to help and she couldn’t be more thankful for them.

Not that she’d let Hangman know that she’s appreciative of him, his egos big enough.

It had been a month in San Diego when Bird got the phone call from her mother that a friend back home had died, she immediately drew back from the squad.

Baylie and Mickey saw the happy-go-lucky woman turn distant and quiet in the matter of seconds. Bird didn’t waste any time in running to her room and bursting into tears.

They had known each other since they were children. The two women were cousins, best friends, and practically inseparable. Bird had known about Hailey’s depression for years.

No one really took her seriously when she’d lay in bed for days, no energy or motivation to get up and eat and take care of herself.

But Bird did, she took the mental health of others very seriously. As did her parents, especially after what her mother experienced at eighteen.

Jackson, her grandfather, was something that the Wheeler side of the family didn’t talk about and when they did, it wasn’t a lot.

They saw him as a disgrace, for suicide is the highest Sin that one could commit in they eyes of God.

The Wheeler family might not always be the most religious but they do follow His word. From the brief stories that her mother told, Jackson was a mean alcoholic. Everyday he’d drink until he was good and drunk.

That’s how he coped with being depressed, but it was the early 80’s and not a lot of people sought out for help, they turned to drink or drugs or whatever tickled their fancy.  

Bird will never forget the day that her mother had pulled out that damned bullwhip from her Hope Chest and told all three of her children the story of it.

Then after the story was done, Kathleen Hallet took in her children’s faces and said, “If you ever feel like you’re not yourself, please tell your dad or me ok?”

All the siblings nodded their heads as Kathleen tried to make sure they understood what she was talking about. And even as the children grew, Nick and Kat reminded them and gave more encouragement to talk to them if needed.

Birdie was 8 when she was first introduced to her grandfather’s memory and every blue moon she’d learn something new.

She was 17 when she learned that Jackson was his name, had a fraternal twin brother named John, that he liked Lions, and was fortunate enough to be given his old wool jacket and a small lion figurine.

Bird was 20 when she was told that Mamaw and Papaw Wheeler owned a bar and he and his buddies would stay there and drink all day playing cards.

The Hallet siblings might not have had a maternal grandfather, but they did have a maternal great grandpa.

He was a big part of their childhood, he taught all of them life lessons and other important things as they grew.

Birdie was the closest to both her Mamaw and Grandpa Wheeler, always watching old westerns and doing puzzles with them.

It broke her heart when her Great Grandfather died at the age of 96.

The hardest part being that she was in boot camp and couldn’t be excused to attend. Bo was her biggest shoulder to cry on and stayed with her until she wasn’t grieving as much. Heather and Phillip were there for her too when Bo couldn’t.

She didn’t know if she could go through the same thing again, but this time would be different, with someone she actually knew and saw and loved and grew up together.

Hailey was someone that Bird never thought that she’d have to out-live, with her being in the Navy, her life was constantly in danger.

It was beyond hard for her to think of a world where Hailey wasn’t just one phone call away if Bird had a bad day and needed her best friend to talk to or vice versa.

She’d never hear her voice again, never feel her warmth from a hug. What if Bird forgets Hailey’s voice or laugh? What if she hears a song or smell or memory that reminds her of Hailey and starts to cry?

Bird for weeks would just do nothing but lay in her bed after work, sobbing and cuddling Ozzy until she had cried herself to sleep.

This worried Bay and Mickey, they had no idea what had happened in that phone call and started to fret over their friend’s health.

Mickey begged Bay to let him call Bob, he’d most likely be able to get her to open the door and talk, but Bay would shake her head and take Ozzy for his evening walk.

Every member of the squads came to the Garcia’s shack, talking through the wooden door as they sat on the ground.

Bay and Mickey talked to her the most, about what they did after work, how Ozzy did that day if he wasn’t in her room, and how much they miss seeing her bright and shiny smile.

What they didn’t know, was the hurt she felt in hearing them plead with her to come out. She just didn’t want to smile or do anything knowing that her best friend was gone.

Everything felt numb, lungs heavy and crushed, her friends’ voices sounded as if she was underwater. And all she wanted to do was breathe.

“Hey Angel,” he started breathlessly and searching for the right words, “I know. I got a text from your Ma, she’s worried about you. I am too, you’ve never been like this.”

There was a soft thud on the door where he put his forehead, “You’re the most happiest girl I know and I hate to see you like this. Hailey had been battling with her depression for years and I know that you did everything you could to help her, and you did, help her I mean. It might not seem like it right now, but…”

A long breath escaped his lungs, “You did what you were supposed to do, you were there for her when she needed you most and made sure she knew that you would listen to anything and everything she wanted to say.”

“Then why does it feel like I did nothing,” she whispered, voice scratchy from disuse as Bird laid her forehead against the door where she thought his was.

“Because you think you could’ve done more, could’ve saved her. Angel, babe, without you she probably would’ve lost that battle sooner than later. You showed her that you cared, that she mattered, that she had someone in her corner when it felt like no one else was.”

Birdie sniffled and took her head off of the door and for a minute or two it was completely silent.

“If I open this door, I just want you and Ozzy to come inside. I’m overwhelmed and need my boys. I’ll talk to the squads and Mama and Papa later.”

“If that's what you want Angel, I’ll go get Oz now.”

“Yes please.”

It took a few minutes for Bo to come back, but once he did, he knocked on the door with Ozzy right beside him.

“Thank you Robert.”

“For you, I’d do anything.” and a happy bark followed after by the fur baby sitting on her bed.

All the members of the squads came over and talked to her through the closed door, all except for Bob.

He didn’t think that he’d have the right to comfort her right now, but after a text message from Birdie’s mama, he quickly understood what he had to do.

“Robert, please tell us our baby is okay?” “Mana’s not doin’ so good. What happened?” “Hailey.”

That one name and Bob knew, how couldn’t he. Robert didn’t tell the others, they had other worries and commitments to attend to.

He had kept it secret for a few days before Bay had finally had enough and cornered him in the hallway. “Robert James Floyd, I know that you know what’s up with Birdie, spill.”

“I can’t, it’s personal.”

“If it’s personal, then we should know so we can help!”

“That’s not how this works ok? You can’t just demand to know what everyone’s going through when it’s not your business, so butt out Baylie.”

Bo pushed through her and continued his way to the hangers where the others were, leaving Lucky stunned and slacked jawed by the balls he showed for calling her out as she stood in the empty hallway.

Maybe it was time that the real Robert showed his face and met the squad, but he’ll save that for another day. His Birdie needs him.

He came over to the Garcia’s little cottage after work and as Hangman walked out of the hallway where Bird’s room was, Bo pushed his way to the guest room.

Robert sat on the floor in silence for a minute or two, trying to come up with a plan to talk to her before he shook his head and started.

He knew that the squads were just down the hall and could listen in anytime they wanted, and would, because Birdie was family now.

Bo kept his voice just above a whisper and forehead glued to the sturdy wood door that was between them. Every answer he gave was unclear to anyone but the two.

The conversation went on for a while before he came back into the livingroom and stopped right in front of Ozzy.  

“Hey Buddy, you miss me?” Bo chirps as he pets Ozzy’s head. Ozzy in return gives him some kisses, making Bo laugh.

“Yeah, I missed you too. Wanna go see your mama, she needs cuddles from her boys.”

Ozzy stretches as he gets up off of the couch and then jumps off and races towards Birdie’s bedroom door. Bo starts to get back up from kneeling position but is stopped by Baylie.

“She lost someone close to her, didn’t she?” Lucky had tears in her eyes at seeing her friend’s pain, just like she felt all those years ago when she lost her childhood friend Katie.

Bo didn’t answer, just nodded and before he turned into the hall, “I hope it’s okay if I stay the night. I don’t wanna leave her alone if I can.”

Bay nodded, “Stay as long as it takes to make Birdie happy again, if she needs anyone to talk to, tell her I’m here and I know her pain right now.”

Robert offered a small smile and continued to Bird’s room, once there Ozzy let out a happy bark as Bob opened the door and Oz jumped onto the bed and curled up next to his Mama’s torso.

Bo laid down next to her aswell, brushing away the new tears before they could fall. “I’ll be with you til the end of the line, Angel.”

she snuggled up to him and put her head on his chest, right above his heart so she could hear the beat and Bo ran his fingers through her knotted hair to calm her down.

Birdie’s Basket: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @starlit-epiphany @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list: @luckyladycreator2 @interstellarloneliness

#birdsmasterlist #birdslibrary #callmemana #awo: mlist #top gun fic #rooster x spicy #omaha x mouse #bob x birdie #fanboy x lucky #hangman x cinco #iceman x dragon #slider x whiskey #robert bob floyd #callie halo shen #ron slider kerner #baylie lucky steele #reuben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia #amanda birdie hallett #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #tom iceman kazansky #javy coyote machado #rachael dragon kazansky #alana cinco metcalf #neil omaha vikander #grace spicy bradshaw #raven mouse fischer #jade whiskey kerner

[pompompurin1028]

"Certainly Humans are Sinfully Stupid, but What's wrong with that?"

Summary: I will be dividing this essay into two main parts to address what Dazai had said in this panel to Dazai-sensei's writing. Then, in one short part I will attempt to connect some of what I had said back to BSD Dazai as a theory.

A/N: Basically take it as me rambling about my favorite bsd dazai panel and some of my personal take on dazai works which escalated and turned out much longer than I originally imagined...  (by that I mean this became 6k+ words) Also just my contribution to Dazai's birthday <3 Also note that use of Chinese is present in this, since it’s much easier to find translated works of Dazai in this language, but if I do quote it, I will attempt to translate it

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, (if you're uncomfortable with it) religious wording, spoilers to some of Dazai's stories (works discussed [in relatively more detail]: No Longer Human, Otogizoshi, Blue Bamboo, Thinking of Zenzo, 正義與微笑, 思考的蘆葦)

1. Dazai about Human Weakness

2. Realization of “Sin”

3. “But what’s wrong with that”?

4. Brief Thoughts on BSD Dazai vs Dazai-sensei

5. Final Notes

6. Citations

This is probably my favourite Dazai panel out of all the manga panels of him there is. From his expression to his words, there's just so much to say about this panel. Yes, it always comes back to this panel with me, and I just incorporated it in my last analysis as well. But what I have more to speak on is how I personally see it connected to my view on Dazai-sensei's works that I have as of now. 

So, I will be dividing this essay into two main parts to address what Dazai had said in this panel to Dazai-sensei's writing. In the first part, I shall address how it connects to my understanding of Dazai's works. Firstly by looking at the "sinful and foolish" part of Dazai's dialogue to Dazai-sensei's views on human weakness. Then, I will further elaborate on the choice of word "sin" which is present in both translations of this panel that I have seen. Finally, I shall address the latter part of Dazai's statement, a seeming acceptance of human weaknesses to Dazai-sensei's acceptance of humans in their paradoxical natures, especially in his middle-period works. Then, in one final part, I will attempt to connect some of what I had said back to BSD Dazai (though I would say this is more of a theory than an analysis).

In addition to Dazai's works, I will also be referring to some academic research in this for the sake of some sort of objectivity and aid, since I am not Japanese, no scholar of Dazai nor Japanese literature, my knowledge can only reach so far (even more so when I am reading translated versions and the fact that I do not know Japanese literary traditions), I am merely someone interested in Dazai’s works… I must also acknowledge that there are some biases on my side since this contains some of my personal interpretation of Dazai's works alongside my limitations since, I have also read a limited amount of Dazai’s works, so take it with a grain of salt, but I wanted to write down my thoughts. As for my Chinese literature/philosophy analysis I have embedded in a minor part, (source?) you can trust me (but as a Chinese person and having studied it as a local I can say with some sort of confidence that I know what I'm talking about).

 1. Dazai about Human Weaknesses

“The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness.” - No Longer Human[1]

Just as Dazai in this panel addresses the sinfulness and foolishness of humans. Human weakness and the human struggle in life are recurring themes quite often observed in Dazai's writing. In fact, when reading about Dazai in Chinese, I have sometimes come across his work being described as "the weak's literature" and even "the friend of the weak"[2]. In fact, at the end of Dazai’s short story Canis Familiaris he wrote about this directly, saying "the artist is the friend to the weak, that is his first motivation and ultimate goal".

In fact, readers of No Longer Human alone can sense this. Such as from Yozo's acute awareness of how humans behave, with their deceptiveness making it so he is unable to take their words at face value, to within Yozo himself, in that he sees himself as too cowardly, and weak to even reject other people, and even in the acute sensitivity readers see in Yozo which he fails to acknowledge that can be seen in how he equates his father's neutral expressions and lack of words as strong disapproval. I personally see Dazai to also be a quite sensitive person, if you read some of his open letters or just think about how he can acknowledge the things Yozo views in humans in the book.

In other works Dazai has written, human weakness is a concurrent theme. Such as in Run Melos! (a rewrite from an ancient Greek myth) Dazai mainly changed the main character's thoughts, such as considering betrayal and the guilt that follows, and how both Melos and Selinuntius both succumbed to it to some degree. Or how in his novel 《正義與微笑》 (From Chinese would be translated as Justice and Smile, I hadn’t found a translation of it in English;;), with the novel speaking about a teenager and his aspirations, observations and insights as he is growing up, how he is often met with disillusionment from everywhere from high school to university, in people and even in the path to his dream job. And multiple times throughout the book he succumbs to weakness as he thinks about giving up again and again on his current goals and dreams.

Perhaps, something quite fascinating which I have read in the essay Dazai's Women: Dazai Osamu and his Female Narrators, it is because Dazai is known for holding human weaknesses at high esteem, though, at first to the reader, they are seemingly portraying weakness in a bad light, in reality, he often uses such human weaknesses to humanize his characters[3]. This is most obviously portrayed, again, in No Longer Human, in which Yozo throughout the whole book sees and portrays himself as inhuman and utterly disqualified to be a human being. The title, however, is ironic as when readers look deeper into Yozo’s narration, they will be able to see that he is very often tripped up by his own very human weaknesses, even some of which are seen as terrible by societal standards, they are what make him nothing but human, some may perhaps even begin to describe Yozo as the most human person in the novel, or perhaps even too human.

Therefore, in fact, even though on the surface it may seem that such is portrayed in a bad light, the same essay says "according to Ueda: “in [Dazai’s] view, an evil person is a man who has no understanding of, and therefore no sympathy for, human weakness" [3]. From what little amount I could access to Ueda’s book, he also said that “Dazai discovered that ‘human reality was ultimately filthy and ugly’ and maintained that ‘literature should not concern itself wholly with the fact’ but with a deeper truth, namely the beauty of man’s basic human weakness”[4].

This may perhaps have something to do with the fact that "Dazai" saw himself as a weak person[5], in fact, he kind of admitted to it in his book Otogizoshi, where he wrote that “while I presume to understand to some extent the psychology of the weak, perhaps because I’m a helpless sort myself, I’m afraid I don’t really have a clear understanding of the psychology of the powerful—particularly the absolutely invincible variety, which I’ve never met or even known to exist”[6]. Though this is debatable since according to the book Dazai Osamu, it writes Dazai likes potraying himself as a failure. If you think about it the fact that he is willing to cut so deep to look into human existence shows a slightly different perspective, there seems to be some sort of bravery and strength necessary to it. So simultaneously when reading how Dazai often describes himself or the narrator as weak, this is something we must keep in mind, also to keep in mind some sort of objectivity despite the use of personal modes in Dazai’s works.

And perhaps this influenced why Dazai saw human weakness as not only an essential human trait but also something to be proud of, and something in which one could find beauty[7].

2. Realization of "Sin"

“The Bible says, "he who is forgiven little, loves little." Do you know what this means? Only those who are confident that they have made no mistakes in life are heartless. Those who are sinful have deep affection.” - Dried Leaves of Spring[8]

So how does Dazai find beauty in human nature and its weaknesses?

Before I address this, I must first acknowledge why the choice of the word “sins” or “sinfully” (depending on the translation) in this panel is important. Not only is it because it is (sort of) mentioned in No Longer Human in the synonyms and antonyms game Yozo played:

I said, feigning tranquillity, "Crime. What's the antonym of crime? This is a hard one."

"The law, of course," Horiki answered flatly. I looked at his face again. Caught in the flashing red light of a neon sign on a nearby building, Horiki's face had the somber dignity of the relentless prosecutor. I felt shaken to the core.

"Crime belongs in a different category."[9] - No Longer Human

Though in Donald Keene’s translation (which is the translation that is most commonly seen), it is translated as “crime” perhaps since Yozo references Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. Interestingly enough in Chinese and Japanese, Crime and Punishment are written as 罪與罰 and 罪と罰 respectively, and from my knowledge in Chinese, with 罪 meaning both crime and sin. For further proof of this, in the article A Religion of Humanity: A Study of Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human, Hijiya also changed the translation of “crime” to “sin”, and in their notes, they acknowledged that they “[had] taken the liberty of changing certain terms and phrases in order to bring out the fuller meaning of the original”[10].

Along with that, it should also be understood that Dazai had read the Bible, he even referenced it across some of his works which I have read such as in sections of 《思考的蘆葦》, 《正義與微笑》 which has moments with the main character speaking of the Bible with his brother and even in Fallen Flowers, in which he parallels himself to Thomas’ doubt on Christ’s resurrection as well as the quote I have selected above. However, Dazai was not a Christian, but he read it thoroughly and tried to interpret the Bible according to his own terms, and it is suspected that Dazai “sensed some kind of dark side in humans that can be identified with the Christian notion of sin”, the essay I read suggests if not the Christian notion of sin, it is perhaps similar to a sense of human frailty that is deep within every person[11][12]. So though when referring to "sin" on Dazai's side isn't really religiously connected necessarily, but it's difficult to think of a word to replace it, so I will add quotations, also this wording will benefit the understanding of a latter part.

With this understanding, we can now return to Dazai and human weaknesses to address the quote at the beginning of this section in which Dazai sees people who are “sinful have deep affection”[13]. This, however, does not directly mean that those who have committed many crimes have deep affection, rather it is “those who sin and have a deep realization of their sinfulness become modest, kind, and deeply affectionate people”[14]. This is fitting for "Dazai" whose unwavering conviction in writing literature was “remorse, confession and reflection”[15]:

「您到底——」客人似乎也對我的優柔寡斷生氣了,換個語氣說,「對於寫小說抱持甚麼樣的信念?比方說,人道主義,或是愛啦,社會正義啦,美啦,那些東西,打從您步入文壇,直到現在,乃至將來,可有這樣一個始終堅定不移的信念?」

「有的。是悔恨。」這次,我終於可以不假思索立刻回答。「沒有悔恨的文學,只不過是狗屁。悔恨、告白、反省,近代文學——不,近代精神想必就是從那之中誕生的。因此——」我又結巴了。- 海鷗 from 《思考的蘆葦》(A short story I enjoyed but hadn't seen in English as well)[16]

Translation by me (with possible errors):

"You—" the guest also seemed to be angry at my fickleness, and said in a different tone, "what convictions do you hold about writing fiction? Humanism, for example, or love, social justice, beauty, that stuff. Since the time you entered the literary world, until now, and even in the future, can you have such an unwavering conviction?"

"Yes. It's remorse." This time, I could finally answer immediately without hesitating. "Literature without remorse is just bullshit. Remorse, confession, reflection, modern literature—no, the modern spirit must have been born out of that. So—" I stuttered again.

I think it's also really interesting that in The Setting Sun, Dazai also wrote “'I wonder if there is anyone that is not depraved’ Naoji wrote in his notebook... Perhaps by depravity he actually meant tenderness”, which also fits this idea.

And, therefore, it is perhaps this deep realization of “sin” that Dazai harboured that allowed an establishment of a sort of kindness in his work[17]. So, below, through No Longer Human, and Thinking of Zenzo, I will attempt to establish how in Dazai’s work we can showcase the connection between the realization of “sin” and affection. 

Beginning with No Longer Human, Dazai conveys this through Yozo’s fragilely sensitive nature, though on one hand causes him to see the dark side of human nature, and on the other allows for him to be sympathetic towards those in sorrow and pain:

“People talk of “social outcasts.” The words apparently denote the miserable losers of the world, the vicious ones, but I feel as though I have been a “social outcast” from the moment I was born. If ever I meet someone society has designated as an outcast, I invariably feel affection for him, an emotion which carries me away in melting tenderness.” - No Longer Human[18]

Additionally, from an interpretation I quite like from The Religion of Humanity, Yozo’s invention of clowning can also be interpreted as an establishment between the realization of “sin” and affection. Because as Hijiyam mentioned, just as clowning serves as a means for Yozo to protect himself, it is also “a positive means for him to demonstrate his compassion and understanding”[19], to identify with people despite his dread of them as his “last quest at love [he] was to direct at human beings”[20]. Though by doing so, he only further recognizes his “sinfulness” in his deceit, which alienates him, it is what ultimately allowed him to identify with the outcasts in the first place. I think it's also fascinating that in his novel 《正義與微笑》the main character's main belief he constructed from the beginning of the novel was 「以微笑行正義」 (tr. to practice justice through a smile), and so by becoming an actor at the end of the novel, which is an extension of this belief, it conveys a sense of "love", as described in the translator's note, along with justice[21].

Whereas in the short story Thinking of Zenzo (one of my favourite Dazai short stories), this sense is not as obvious as that in No Longer Human. I have always found it fascinating that at the beginning of Thinking of Zenzo "Dazai" decided to acknowledge and confess his "sins" before the beginning of the narrative (though admittedly I tend to forget about this part):

“Forgive me. That was uncalled for. I'm in no position to stand above humanity, acting as prosecutor, or judge. I have no right to condemn others. I am a child of evil. Beyond redemption. I suspect my past sins are fifty or a hundred times greater than yours. And even now I continue to sin. However I try to watch myself, it's hopeless. Not a day goes by that I don't do something evil. I could prostrate myself before God, my hands bound together with ropes, and devote myself to prayer, but even then, before I knew it, I'd be committing some atrocious deed. I'm a man who ought to be whipped. Whip me till the blood spurts out; I would have no choice but to bear it in silence.” - Thinking of Zenzo[22]

And perhaps because of this realization of “sin”, although "Dazai" (it should be noted that his wife actually said that only about 50% of this story is truth of what she witnessed) narrated the story with him being sold roses by a fraud, him being too weak to refuse, and him commenting on how the people from his hometown dislike him. But he continues to wish that the woman who had swindled him could prove to him that she wasn’t lying.

So, when later finds out that even though the woman, in the beginning, had swindled him into buying the roses, that was just as good as she said, and that she was probably “[one of those] people who make their living selling things [by lying] even when they don't need to”, he not only felt contented.

“Taking a seat on the veranda, puffing at my cigarette, I felt not a little contented. God exists. Surely He exists. Green pastures are where you find them. Behold the fruits of non-resistance. I considered myself a fortunate man. They say to experience sorrow at any price. That the blue sky is most beautiful when seen through a prison cell window. And so on. I gave thanks. And for a moment, this thought flashed through my mind: As long as these roses are living, I am king of my own heart.” - Thinking of Zenzo[23]

He even equates the woman with the people from his hometown by saying: 

"Maybe she was from my homeland, that woman," I said. My cheeks felt warm for some reason. "So she wasn't entirely a fraud, eh?" - Thinking of Zenzo[24]

Seeming not only to have accepted the actions of the woman but also the people from his hometown. 

And so when looking at the text as a whole, understanding that it was first framed by his recognition of his own “sins”, then by his narration on the roses, before finally his gathering back in his hometown, and ending with a seeming acceptance of both those that have seemingly “wronged” him, one can wonder if the recognition of “sins” is once again, as we viewed in No Longer Human, the key to such affection he found at the end of the story.  

3. "What's wrong with that?"

“請你更積極地愛這個俗世，恨這個俗世，一生都沈浸享受其中吧。” - Blue Bamboo (tr. Please actively love this world, hate this world, immerse in it all your life)

Following the line of thinking above that the realization of “sin” and weaknesses therefore could allow for affection and kindness. Below, I will argue that this understanding, perhaps allows a sort of acceptance for humans and even their paradoxical natures, which is present in some of his middle-period works, such as Blue Bamboo, and the stories from Otogizoshi.

In Blue Bamboo, this sense of finding peace within the human world, regardless of its flaws is perhaps the most obvious out of all the works I will discuss, at least to me. Especially with its ending as "he ever again heard to utter another pompous word about the ‘Way of the superior man’ but quietly carried on in the same humble poverty as before” even though he previously said, “The world is drunk; I alone perceive the truth!” and in the end even decided to “bury himself in the dust of the world”[25].

Before I explain more thoroughly how this portrays what I intend to argue, I should note that Dazai said that he “wrote [Blue Bamboo] in the hope that it would be read by the people of China. It is to be translated into Chinese”, it is also a rewrite from a Chinese tale[26]. Therefore, within the story itself, there are references to Chinese philosophy, culture, and allusions to Chinese literature that people who are not familiar with Chinese literature may miss. Therefore, below I will explain some of the terms and allusions which may be missed. 

Firstly, the “way of the superior man” or what we call Junzi (which literally means gentleman), is a reference to Confucius and his Analects, and it is a Chinese philosophy of life, and the term Junzi it contains the idea about how their moral conduct makes them a moral exemplar, basically if you're a Junzi you are a moral exemplar. This was an important concept in ancient China, I would say, and can even be seen to be followed by a good amount of ancient Chinese poets, and is why, if you are familiar with Chinese poets, poets sometimes go into recluse-- to separate from the “vulgar” worldly concerns and the corruption of the court, to showcase themselves as different and lofty than others. Though perhaps you will think it is arrogant of them, this was in fact seen as noble. I should also note that these Junzi needed to follow certain rules, one of which is to not associate themselves with those who are of “inferior” morals, hence why they go into reclusion I guess, again you can find them in Confucius and his Analects.

Secondly, I must address the allusion to Qu Yuan (if you know about the Dragon Boat Festival, yes this festival is to commemorate him) through the fact that Yu Jung quoted his most famous last words: “The world is drunk; I alone perceive the truth!”. Which in Chinese is「眾人皆醉我獨醒」, if we translate it directly it means the world is drunk only I am sober, which on a more metaphorical level talks about the corruption of the Chinese royal court, and how he is the only one to not be tainted by the corrupt ways of the court, and that he alone perceives the truth that they are corrupt. The phrase that Dazai quoted is symbolic of this sentiment because literally, it is using the world being drunk, in contrast to him being sober, as a juxtaposition to convey how he is superior to the rest of the world. I also like to add that this is not the whole statement, the first half of the statement was「舉世皆濁我獨清」, basically saying that he is the only pure one in the world of the corrupt, or in direct translation would mean filthy.

So, understanding these concepts, when going back to the story Blue Bamboo, we would understand that what I had mentioned implies that even though Yu Jung saw the corruptness and “filthiness” of the world, but still decided to give up the “way of the superior man” in the end which would keep him “pure”, and decided to live and dwell in this corrupt world and “bury himself in the dust of the world”, which I guess could be a connection to the first part of Yu Quan’s statement.

Perhaps this is the result of the fact that though he seems to want to follow the "way of the superior man", he still finds himself attached to the world, as indicated in his dialogue: “It’s so beautiful. How I’d love to show this to my wife back home!” even though he was taken to a haven out of the reach of man[27]. Though this seems to be paradoxical for Yu Jung, Dazai’s work didn’t punish him, and in fact, it was encouraged by Blue Bamboo, the one who brought Yu Jung to the haven.

“It appears you can’t forget your wife after all,” whispered Blue Bamboo, peering at him.

“Don’t be silly. That woman hasn’t the slightest respect for my learning. She makes me wash the dirty clothes, and push boulders around... Besides, they say she’s my uncle’s mistress. There’s nothing about her that’s worth remembering.”

“Perhaps that’s precisely what you find so precious about her, precisely what makes you miss her so—that she’s beyond redemption. I’m certain that’s what you really feel, deep inside. Didn’t Mencius say that compassion lies deep in every man’s heart? I think your true and greatest aspiration was to share life’s hardships with your wife, to live with her free of malice or resentment or spite, for the rest of your days. Go home.” Blue Bamboo’s countenance had suddenly taken on a forbidding sternness; she spoke the words sharply and without the least equivocation. “Go now.” - Blue Bamboo[28]

And another interesting thing is that in the original version of the tale, Yu Jung’s wife was not portrayed as bad as in Dazai’s version, yet the fact that Yu Jung still thinks of her, could perhaps, allow Dazai to further showcase Yu Jung’s inability to let go of the human world despite its woes[29]. All of this, which is full of contradictions, yet wholly accepted by both characters of the short story thus allows the main message of the story to be conveyed:

“Human beings must suffer through their entire lives amid the love and hate that rule their world. There is no escape. All you can do is endure. Endure and struggle, struggle and endure. Learning is a splendid thing, but to make a show of having risen above worldly affairs is cowardly and mean. You must become even more attached to the world, and spend your life immersed in the hardships it presents you with. That’s what the gods most love to see in a person. I’m having the servants prepare a boat for you. Get on it, and return directly to your home. Farewell.” - Blue Bamboo[30]

An acceptance of humans with all their flaws and contradictions. Also, if you read more of Dazai’s work, you would perhaps realize that the phrase being “unable to renounce [human] society”[31] or a similar sentiment appears more often than you would think, as off the top of my head in addition to Blue Bamboo, I can think of 3 other works: No Longer Human, Thinking of Zenzo and Otogizoshi that have such a sentiment present in them.

Similarly, Dazai’s four stories in Otogizoshi also present a similar picture, in which the main character escapes or attempts to escape to a haven beyond the human world due to their discontent with the real world, these havens only last for these characters a little while before they are returned to the real world. I think the book Studies in the Comic Spirit in Modern Japanese Fiction describes it really well: 

“In the "forgetfulness" that consoles Urashima when he finds himself a lonely old man, in the husband's bitter smile and his comment "I owe my good fortune to my wife; I made things so hard for her" at the conclusion of Shitakiri Suzume, even in the plaintive "Was it wrong to love you?" that summarizes the Tanuki's demise in Kachikachiyama, there is a similar note of acceptance, an understanding that we can only reconcile ourselves to the ultimate irreconcilability of things. Contradictory characters, even the contradictions within a single character, must be taken as they are; and it is better to accept them with a smile, however faint, than to bewail them.”[32]

I also think it is interesting to note that in the same essay it also talks about how  “these idealized or liberated worlds exist only so that the characters may return from them to their ordinary worlds. Utopias cannot hold the human spirit for  long; it naturally gravitates away from perfection and back toward the confusion, the irreconcilable contrasts of the world of its origin”, and that “as the characters' sojourns in these great good places [it] provides them with an ability to endure life with a sense of acceptance and tolerance that they previously lacked, [and the] reading of their stories endows [readers] with some of the same capacity”[33]. 

 4. Brief Thoughts on BSD Dazai vs Dazai-sensei

But does Dazai actually believe in the same things Dazai-sensei appears to believe? This is actually the question that has troubled me the longest, I have already had some thoughts about what I had written above since last year, but was not (and still am not completely) confident enough in my understanding, so I will... try... not say too much on this. Besides, though BSD Dazai is inspired by Dazai-sensei it is clear that Asagiri-sensei also made him a kind of new character separate from his real-life counterpart in ways, the most obvious would be the reverse of Dazai and Akutagawa’s dynamic.

I also think this is a very difficult question to answer because, for one, Dazai’s thoughts are hardly revealed, we have never seen his point of view on his things, so we are unsure of his true intentions a lot of the time, which is understandable since it allows the author to give the readers a sense of their enigma and allow them to maintain an air of mysteriousness, and added upon this is his paradoxical nature. 

On the other hand, Dazai-sensei is also quite confusing since there are also reasons to have skepticism about some details which Dazai-sensei writes. Because, according to the book, Dazai Osamu, it writes Dazai just writes in a way that invites skepticism, especially when, though it is often said that Dazai seems to write in an I-novel format, research I have read said that "very few if any of Dazai’s works can be called I-novels", plus sometimes even in his already unreliable narrators, Dazai seems “unwilling to commit the whole truth to one character”, for example, if you have read The Setting Sun, you would notice that in addition to Kazuko, Dazai also seems to communicate his views through the voice of Naoji[34]. “At times [also] Dazai seems to mix up objective and personal modes of narration as a means of tantalizing his readers”[35], but even so one of the postscripts of the BSD manga also says that Dazai in fact also liked making his readers smile.

In addition to this, Dazai, or at least he writes, doesn’t like commenting on his own works. In《思考的蘆葦》he makes his attitude seem like you if you don’t like it then don’t read it, but even so, he also writes that “[he] and his work live as one. [He] always puts everything [he] wants to say in his works. So [he] has nothing else to say [on his works]” so even if there is unreliability in his works if you wish to understand his thoughts you still have to look at his works (do note that this is translated from Chinese)[36]. This is why I once again remind you that the above is merely some of my interpretation of Dazai’s works.

But if I have to give my opinion, I think BSD Dazai’s belief doesn’t completely follow Dazai-sensei’s apparent belief. I think BSD Dazai follows through something more similar to Yozo’s thoughts and desires in No Longer Human than all of what Dazai-sensei seems to believe and I think that makes sense since Dazai seems to be inspired by Yozo, writing this made me question whether NLH is truly an I-novel... one paper I found says that scholars seem to see it more as fictional than an I-novel which is fascinating.

But it should be noted that No Longer Human does seem to be reflective of some of the things as I have written above, but is most similar in my opinion to the second section of my essay, which is those that are “sinful have deep affection”. But rather than being able to completely find affection in them, though Yozo does voice out his love for humans, he is still afraid of them, therefore cannot completely be at peace with them, which I think is similar to Dazai. Another thing that is similar is their perhaps their strive towards grasping the essence of “sin”: 

Because if you think about it, the fact that Dazai decided to put himself “somewhere close to raw emotions where [he] is exposed to violence and death, instinct and desire, [to] brush against man’s truest nature” and in it, he wants to find a reason to live. In a past analysis, I had also raised the question of why Dazai is trying to find light in life in such a dark place? I do still think my past conclusions are still valid, that he is trying to find some good in humans in such a dark place by trying to grasp the true nature of humans.

I noticed that this can be seen as a parallel to Yozo from No Longer Human with his quest for love towards human beings, in which he tried to find as he said “If we knew the antonym of [sin], I think we would know its true nature”[37], that by understanding “sin” he can have a fuller understanding of human existence, since “sin” seems to be the core problem in human existence, then maybe by finding the opposite of it he could find hope perhaps. 

However, if you have read the novel, then you would notice that attempting to find hope and affection for humans this way ends up badly. Because this acts as a double-edged sword. If we see Yozo as taking this belief as his reason for living in No Longer Human, then following the narrative when something as easy as his trust for human beings shatters, then both his hope for humans and purpose for living is simultaneously shattered, and he could ultimately fall into despair, especially if he is as sensitive as Yozo. And surrounded by the people that he had, like Horiki which led to what happened to his wife who almost seemed like a personification of goodness that he found so hard to find because he saw human selfishness destroy this rare human goodness and "his fear that human nature is essentially destructive is confirmed"[38]. Which caused him to lose all trust in humanity that he so wanted and clung onto... And even made him the question is “trustfulness a sin”, "is immaculate trustfulness after all a source of sin"[39]. Trustfulness was something Yozo seemed to hold at high esteem which is fascinating for Yozo who is also so distrustful of humanity. But in fact even so despite all those woes, I continue to feel the person that harbors this trust is still Yozo, in a way he is the trusting genuis that he saw in his wife which made him affectionate of her, but even this 'trustfulness' has some nuance, as it is not just pure trust, but what his wife shows is a sense of trust in goodness, in Yozo’s goodness that he didn't drink despite the fact that he insisted and actually did drink, so despite his distrust he continues wishes to trust fearfully, fragilely, so this with his wife is a sort of gamble you can say, a gamble to see if the world would prove his fears right or what he desires to trust, in a sense this can even be seen as Yozo trying to reach for hope, and in a way BSD Dazai is similar like this, deep inside he knows these things Yozo has ‘come to realized’ are true, but he doesn’t want to comprehend them, he is trying to find them false still, it is a walking contradiction. What I personally interpret here is that in a way trust, especially immaculate trust which is what was written in the novel can be eventually seen as a sign of weakness in this cruel world, even though Yozo believes it was a sign of goodness, so it has come to is this sign of goodness also a sin? This realization here can be interpreted as there's only such a fine line between purity and "sin" (human frailty), you know this reminds me of something Dazai wrote in another book, so it's like should this aspect of 'weakness' really be called sin? Should it be punished?

I wonder if he didn’t hear Oda’s last words to him, if he would perhaps fall into this kind of despair, or at least something close to it, as well… But of course we should note that the relationship between Yozo and his wife and Dazai and Oda are much different, I don't just mean it just by romantically, Oda is a much different person than what Yozo’s wife represents, while Yozo’s wife represented a sense of purity and goodness that is untainted by the world, Oda is clearly morally dubious but chooses to do good, and in a way this makes both Yozo's wife and Oda similarly as a figure of "goodness" that's as far as the parallel goes, I feel like Dazai sees more of Oda as an equal than him being a personification of goodness, but fascinating enough Oda and Dazai are a bit similar just as Yozo and his wife are in a sense, but of course this is conclusions I have come to just by seeing the anime dark era not the light novel, I can't get access to it... But rather than what happened to Yozo, Dazai had Oda’s last words to guide him. Which I think is a good thing because I think Dazai is much more likely to find something close to what he is searching for on the “good side”, but as Oda said, I don't think he will find what he had been initially searching for but perhaps he will find something else that will bring him some sort of consolation. But I think the fact that we have seen throughout the series, that Dazai is drawn to specific people with traits, which I think he doesn’t see himself having, such as humanity, kindness and such traits seems to show us this.

And if we are following this line of thinking, maybe then we would have a greater understanding of why Dazai could be so adamant about getting rid of Fyodor. Because as Fyodor has seemed to have stated in the manga quite a few times, as well as having displayed in Dead Apple, which I have briefly analyzed in my last analysis, The Growing Divergence between Fyodor and Dazai, while Fyodor seems to see people in their sinfulness as something to be destroyed:

And if we follow Dazai as inspired by Yozo, then Dazai seems to be someone who still hasn’t found the “antonym to [sin]”, as we can see present in the novel:

“Actions punishable by jail sentences are not the only crimes [/sins]. If we knew the antonym of [sin], I think we would know its true nature. God . . . salvation . . love... light. But for God there is the antonym Satan, for salvation there is perdition, for love there is hate, for light there is darkness, for good, evil. [Sin] and prayer? [Sin] and repentance? [Sin] and confession? [Sin] and . . . no, they're all synonymous.

What is the opposite of [sin]?"

… 

[Sin] and punishment. Dostoievski. These words grazed over a corner of my mind, startling me. Just supposing Dostoievski ranged '[sin]' and 'punishment' side by side not as synonyms but as antonyms. [Sin] and punishment - absolutely incompatible ideas, irreconcilable as oil and water. I felt I was beginning to understand what lay at the bottom of the scum-covered, turbid pond, that chaos of Dostoievski's mind - no, I still didn't quite see . . . Such thoughts were flashing through my head like a revolving lantern when I heard a voice.” - No Longer Human[40] (Yozo has in fact never finished this thought)

I think his desire to get rid of Fyodor could potentially be out of fear that Fyodor is right (this was my initial guess). Because in my opinion, despite how much Dazai wants to die, he also wants to find a reason to live desperately but if he cannot find it, then dying would be a better option, it is better not to live. And he is constantly afraid that he cannot find it even as he continues to live, but if he wants to live, then he must secure this (I think @/bsd-bibliophile speaks of it really well here). Because Dazai is a character filled with paradoxes, which I think is one of the reasons why it is so hard to grasp him, he is almost fickle, it is hard to say explicitly he is this way, he is that way. This is in fact very similar to Dazai’s writing, which I shall once again reference Studies in the Comic Spirit in Modern Japanese Fiction:

“Dazai himself was keenly conscious of what an imperfect vessel he was to present himself as a "model for the world," a model that offered no answers, full of paradoxes in a world full of paradoxes but not even aware of them. The act of becoming a writer, calling attention to the follies and deceits of the world, and presenting his own conspicuously imperfect life as a "model" would be a dubious proposition at best. Thus there is an inherent ambivalence to his role which, in his more dispassionate moments, is reflected in his work in the form of a highly ironic outlook, presenting the inevitable paradoxes as faithfully as possible, and then attempting to derive as much consolation as possible from the endlessly intriguing details of the show”[41].

Anyways, I have gone off track, or maybe, as we would see that both Dazai and Fyodor seem to understand fully that humans are “sinful and foolish”, they are both highly intelligent and I would say both seem to recognize their wrongdoings as well which cause some kind of self-hatred. And yet, from here their beliefs diverge, Dazai though hasn't found an antonym for “sin”, or that perhaps even realized that "living itself is a source of sin" [42], as in "sinning" is unavoidable or even maybe there's very little difference between other things and "sin", but once believed that Crime/“Sin” and Punishment are something close to antonyms but reality shows his thinking to be different, while Fyodor seems to see that punishment, getting rid of ability users, is the only way to get rid of it, though there's an extra dimension to it that he also has to become crime to punish it fully, I guess it's more so a cause and effect, antonyms and synonyms in his pov, so I wonder if part of that reason for his seeming desperate wanting to be rid of Fyodor also stemmed from fear, because Dazai could find himself picturing himself, or his past self, in Fyodor? Their thinking is quite similar... It may be just their understanding of "sin" that they differ in which caused their divergences.

So despite what he says, like the panel which inspired this essay, he is still unsure of some parts of it, but I think he is trying to convince himself of it, especially that last part. It's like he wants to believe it but cannot fully have himself do so.

I also do think that if the above is indeed what Dazai believes, the reason Dazai may be holding so tightly onto this belief, humans are sinfully foolish but what's wrong with that, even though he himself has yet to fully believe it may also be because of Oda’s last words: “To be on the side that saves people” and “People exist to save themselves” (an interpretation from @/bsd-bibliophile I like is even though what people are doing are motivated by their best interests it could also benefit those around them) and of course Oda’s trust, that even he who had done so much terrible things can possibly help and save people? And Dazai trusts Oda, even though he’s desperately holding onto them, because, though maybe one wouldn’t normally associate it with him but trust, to me, is a very crucial aspect to Dazai, a similar narrative is presented in his works as well, as probably symbolized during the Guild arc when he was holding onto the matchbox ‘advising’ Kyouka:

I also don’t think that if Dazai really fully believed what he said ("but what's wrong with that?"), when he asked how many people Kyouka killed, he would make this expression:

If you think about it, it almost feels like Dazai is repeating some of what Oda had implied to him on his final words to others. And maybe... Just maybe, Dazai's final evolution would be fully accepting that? Because if there is little difference between either good and bad things and "sinning", but you can help people along the way even when doing so by doing "good", maybe it's not so bad? Maybe it's a bit more wonderful.

But of course that's not to say that these words aren't sincere, because in a way they are, Dazai's whole character is a kind of struggle in my opinion, like that presented in so many of his works, it's like I want to believe it, but the world sometimes proves me differently, but I want to trust that what I feel deep inside is true, can I find it in myself to believe it? His words are sometimes in a way consoling himself and others.

But understanding it this way then raises the question of what are abilities supposed to be/symbolize? What is the nature of abilities? Why do some people have it when others do not? Since we understand that there are people too in this bsd universe without an ability as well even though it focuses mainly on people with abilities. But why is Fyodor so intent on only getting rid of ability users? Why are the ability users the only ones with "sin"? I would say in contrast Dazai is more likely to believe that everyone harbors "sin" rather than just ability users, which parallels how I understand Dazai-sensei to think of "sin". This can actually perhaps be traced to the very subtle differences in what Dazai and Fyodor say in raw manga panels of chapter 46:

Fyodor: 「人は罪深く愚かです」

Dazai: 「...確かに人は皆罪深く愚かだ...」

With the character 皆 meaning all in Chinese. But of course I do not know Japanese, I can only guess the meaning Kanji characters if they are written the same as Chinese characters. But I also think the pause in the beginning of Dazai's sentence, hesitance perhaps, is also interesting to note.

And, of course, this is pure speculation on my part, these parallels are simply my own takes. I hope my thoughts here aren't too incoherent… but I am trying to interpret the author’s thoughts. I also wish I could add things about Dostoevsky’s works to this, but unfortunately, I have only finished reading one of his works (Notes from Underground) so far. But this is probably nothing but my best guess that I have about Dazai's character, as I had mentioned, this is merely a theory. Of course this is only my own way of thinking and understanding it. I think it helps make sense of some things, but of course it is but my speculation. But I think by understanding the source of BSD Dazai's inspiration, we may be able to potentially have a fuller understanding of his views, and perhaps where his arc is heading towards. That's why I always wished we could get even a glimpse at Dazai's thoughts... I know I probably have a very different outlook at Dazai from most people because of the fact that my understanding of Dazai is also influenced from how I understand his irl counterpart's works.

5. Final Notes

Honestly, this rambling has come to become way longer than I had originally intended… I honestly just really wanted to talk about my feelings for Dazai-sensei's works. But if nothing else had resulted from this essay, I hope that I could encourage or at least make more people want to read Dazai’s works because Dazai's works really do have a certain charm to them, I remember reading one analysis about how the use of words and changing perspectives, like going from the third point of view to addressing the readers with "you" can draw the reader in, there's also a certain sense of intimacy in his works... You know there's this one Chinese description from one of Dazai's books (小說燈籠 or in English Lanterns of Romance) that has always stuck to me:

對太宰治來說，這個世界沒有善惡，只有喜歡或討厭；人生未必無常，無非是喜劇或悲劇。而喜劇供給慰藉，悲劇予以救贖，都是亙古不變的心靈藥劑，療癒許多因戰亂而深感孤獨的哀傷靈魂。在太宰的故事裡沒有壞人，只有軟弱的人，但軟弱並非罪惡，正因為軟弱更能體會點點溫情。太宰總在內心痛苦、身感疲憊時，反而拼命製造愉快的氣氛。太宰本人，即是哀傷的喜劇。眾人以為他極度自私，事實上，他總顧慮著他人的感受。或許他認為只要帶給周遭溫柔，自己也能溫暖起來吧。[43]

Tr. For Dazai Osamu, there is no good or evil in this world, there is only like or dislike; life is not necessarily uncertain, it is nothing more than a comedy or a tragedy. While comedy provides consolation, tragedy provides salvation. They are eternal spiritual medicines, healing many sad souls who are deeply lonely due to war (A/N: did you know during the war Dazai wrote to console the hearts of people?). In Dazai's stories, there are no bad people, only weak people, but weakness is not a sin/crime, it is precisely because of weakness that we can understand tenderness. Dazai always tried his best to create a happy atmosphere when he was in pain and tired. Dazai himself is a sad comedy. People thought he was extremely selfish, but in fact, he was always concerned about the feelings of others. Maybe he thought that as long as he brought kindness to his surroundings, he would be able to warm himself up too.

And perhaps indeed weakness is not a sin, I like to think that is the main message of No Longer Human, as seen with the epligoue which has the woman calling Yozo a good boy and an angel, despite the fact that the entire novel seemed to have Yozo carry with him immense "sins" and guilt, in fact the majority of novel is ironic in that Yozo only recognizes his cruelty yet not his capacity for love and his gentleness, unreliable narrators... With the novel being one of fiction rather than autobiographical (it is semi autobiographical not fully) one must be sure to then take both Yozo’s narration and the words of the woman in the epligoue as Dazai. Maybe because Dazai thinks the best way for us to better human problems is perhaps to realize these human natures, these weaknesses which Yozo had been able to see in others and in himself, because perhaps only that way will we be able to cherish things such as kindness, trust, understanding, and treat others with these qualities. A note should be put in place for some historical context of No Longer Human which also influenced how I understand the book. Because No Longer Human is in fact a post-war novel, written after the Second World War which Japan was defeated. I have read quite a bit in Chinese about how Dazai felt people felt no remorse or sin from the war, here it writes that “When Dazai returned to Tokyo after evacuation, he was unable to hold himself back when he saw intellectuals depart the same leftist movement and cooperate with policies differing from their wartime policies, jumping on the wave of postwar democracy without hesitation. They had showed no remorse or sense of sin in committing the shameful act of converting and conforming to national policy.” I should also note that Dazai, in the past had been involved in communist activities, and the book Dazai Osamu says that one of Dazai’s ideals was service, to people around him and his readers. And what I had quoted before “those who are sinful have deep affection” is from a post-war work.

But I personally have a softer spot for his middle period works though (Dazai was in fact healthiest, and produced the most works during this period despite it being during the war, and he wanted to console the hearts of people during this time;;), which treat these problems with an almost gentler touch. I think within these works you'll find a different Dazai Osamu than what you've read in No Longer Human. Dazai seems to love and cherish warm and beautiful things and is always searching for them. Honestly, to me Dazai's works aren't just depresssing, it illustrates the human struggle, it's paradoxes, that is within everyone, the yearning for beauty, goodness, but also the melchony of the struggle as one comes into conflict with human's darker side and life's struggles, in so many dark moments, I always feel there is still a flicker of light, even if it is however faint, that is what Dazai is to me. And that's what attracted me to reading more of Dazai's work in the first place. Anyways no more, I'm done talking. So, to end, let me leave you with one of the Dazai quotes I love:

「就算我不再了也不要沮喪，要相信我一定會成功，請輕鬆看待。我絕不會自甘墮落，一定會戰勝這個世界。」-   《正義與微笑》[43]

tr. “Even if I am no more, do not be depressed, believe that I will succeed, just wait and see. I will not willingly fall into deprivity I will succeed in this world.”

 6. Citations:

[1] Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. Tr. Donald Keene.

[2] Dillon, Sara Ann. Dazai Osamu and the problematics of context in Japanese artistic consciousness. Stanford University ProQuest Dissertations Publishing, 1988. 8906653.

[3]  Cox, Jamie Walden, "Dazai's Women: Dazai Osamu and his Female Narrators" (2012). Dissertations and Theses. Paper 132.

[4]  Ueda Makoto, Modern Japanese Writers and the Nature of Literature.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Dazai Osamu. Otogizoshi: The Fairy Tale Book of Dazai Osamu, Tr. Ralph F. McCarthy.

[7] Cox, Jamie Walden, "Dazai's Women: Dazai Osamu and his Female Narrators" (2012). Dissertations and Theses. Paper 132.

[8] Watabe Yoshinori, “Osamu Dazai and the Beauty of his Literature”.

[9] Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. Tr. Donald Keene.

[10] Hijiya Yukihito (1974) A Religion of Humanity, Critique: Studies in Contemporary Fiction, 15:3, 34-42, DOI: 10.1080/00111619.1974.10690061

[11] Ibid.

[12] 蔡超, 「《人間失格》與太宰治的基督教思想」

[13] Watabe Yoshinori, “Osamu Dazai and the Beauty of his Literature”.

[14] Ibid.

[15] Ibid.

[16] 太宰治, 《思考的蘆葦》, tr. 劉子倩 

[17]  Watabe Yoshinori, “Osamu Dazai and the Beauty of his Literature”.

[18]  Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. Tr. Donald Keene.

[19]  Hijiya Yukihito (1974) A Religion of Humanity, Critique: Studies in Contemporary Fiction, 15:3, 34-42, DOI: 10.1080/00111619.1974.10690061

[20]  Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. Tr. Donald Keene.

[21]  太宰治, 《正義與微笑》, tr. 高詹燦

[22]  Dazai Osamu, Self Portraits, “Thinking of Zenzo”, tr. Ralph F. McCarthy. [via. BSD-Bibliophile].

[23]  Ibid.

[24]  Ibid.

[25]  Dazai Osamu, Blue Bamboo, tr. Ralph F. McCarthy. [via. BSD-Bibliophile].

[26]  Ibid.

[27]  Ibid.

[28] Ibid.

[29]  周希瑜,戴松林, 論太宰治《清貧譚》與《竹青》中浪漫主義

[30]  Dazai Osamu, Blue Bamboo, tr. Ralph F. McCarthy. [via. BSD-Bibliophile].

[31]  Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. Tr. Donald Keene.

[32]  Cohn, Joel R, Studies in the Comic Spirit in Modern Japanese Fiction, “Dazai Osamu: Laughing at the End”, Harvard University Asia Center, 1998

[33] Ibid.

[34] O'Brien, James A. "Conclusion." Dazai Osamu, Twayne Publishers, 1975, pp. 150-163. Twayne's World Authors Series 348. Gale Literature: Twayne's Author Series 

[35]  Ibid. 

[36]  太宰治, 《思考的蘆葦》, tr. 劉子倩 

[37] Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. Tr. Donald Keene. 

[38] Hijiya Yukihito (1974) A Religion of Humanity, Critique: Studies in Contemporary Fiction, 15:3, 34-42, DOI: 10.1080/00111619.1974.10690061 

[39]  Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. Tr. Donald Keene. 

[40] Ibid. 

[41]  Cohn, Joel R, Studies in the Comic Spirit in Modern Japanese Fiction, “Dazai Osamu: Laughing at the End”, Harvard University Asia Center, 1998

[42] Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. Tr. Donald Keene. 

[43] 太宰治, 《小說燈籠：冷冽中的溫暖組曲，太宰治浪漫小說集》, tr. 陳系美

[44] 太宰治, 《正義與微笑》, tr. 高詹燦 

A/N: I forgot to add a few citations, one is for the No Longer Human isn’t an I-novel thing: Japanese Language and Literature Vol. 53, No. 2 (October 2019), pp. 299

For those who are curious as to why it isn't one, the definition of an I-novel according to Wikipedia is "The I-novel (私小説, Shishōsetsu, Watakushi Shōsetsu) is a literary genre in Japanese literature used to describe a type of confessional literature where the events in the story correspond to events in the author's life." Though NLH does follow some of Dazai-sensei’s life experiences, from what I read it said the way is structured and the degree of which it manipulates Dazai's own life events makes it more fictional. This whole thing may perhaps be a scholarly debate honestly... (But Donald Keene, Ralph McCarthy and James O'Brien all seem to suggest the same thing as this source so... But if you think about if this is true, I am only in more deep admiration for Dazai's writing) But I'm personally more inclined to think that there is a creation of a almost distance between the author Dazai and the "Dazai" he shows in writing, though sometimes in some stories the main character are even referred as "Dazai" (like Thinking of Zenzo for example), but even so you can still feel Dazai through the pages, it comes across as him being personally involved in them and it makes them quite fun to read, I think it's truly fascinating but that is my unprofessional opinion. But if you think this is exasperating, yes perhaps it is indeed... In the book Dazai Osmau, the author even mentioned how certain critics are exasperated by Dazai’s coyness lol. If I have sparked curiosity about the subject, I have written more in depth about Dazai-sensei's narration here.

Canis Familiaris:

Dazai Osamu, Self Portraits, "Canis Familiaris", tr. Ralph McCarthy.

The Setting Sun:

Dazai Osamu, The Setting Sun, tr. Donald Keene.

Tag list: @REQUIEM626K @shadyteacup @ALITTLESIMP @greenshirtimaginesii @JADEGREENIMMORTALITY @SAKIKOSHI  @KENMASBBYGRL @DAZAISUSEDBANDAGES  @JESSBEINME15 @MIKASA-STAN-ACCOUNT @MISSROWN @GINSWIFE @TENDER-ROSIEY @SONDER-PARADISE @DARLINQSERENITY @WHOREFORDAZAI @SHAMELESSPASTAWOBBLERLAND @RIRK-KE @DAZAIAIKO @HANEMISO @SEBTOMM @IZUKUS-GF @LAVIDADELAVIE @SWRDEMON @ARIXSUX @BEAUTIFUL-IS-BORING @ATSUCAFE @SIGMAFIED @STORIES-FROM-SAINT-PETERSBURG @THEKAYLAHUB @XO-CUTEPLOSION-XO @SIMPLYASIMPSBLOG @KISARA-16REBLOGS @STRAYDOGSBUNGOU @TITAMAOW @KAUS-QUIETIS

Analysis only:

@ODDEYESIGHT

#kat rambles about dazai sensei #kat's analysis🔍 #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd #dazai osamu #bsd theories #bsd analysis #bungou stray dogs analysis #bsd meta

[memurfevur]

More Than That

Character(s): Ptillo Uyilst, Keonin Caniss, mentions of Tythus Strigg (@moonlit-trolls), Makona Levian & Elnric Vitson (@the-rainbow-overflow / @a-lime-with-problems ), and Casitt Resshi (@mageofspacemultiverse)

About: Through a confession of concern comes a confession of feelings. TWO WAMAN? IN LOVE? WHOOOOAH. This is a one-off drabble that I wrote on a whim.

Word Count: 1,310

===============================

Keonin looked on with concern written on her face, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she took in the news her dear friend revealed to her. Ptillo had rejoined her old cult. Keonin was not one to judge anyone based on their religious experiences or want of, but she could not figure out why, out of anyone, Ptillo had made this decision.

”He made you think he was dead.“

"I'm sure he had his reasons," the Purpleblood replied, bent over a shelf in her cabin's small refrigerator. She grabbed a small fruit-flavored gelatin cup and closed the cooler's door. "He's always been meticulous and dramatic.” Ptillo pulled open a drawer and plucked a plastic spoon from its divider. She set to work unwrapping the cup, her long nails easily grabbing the thin layer of plastic needed to pull back and open the snack. She hummed happily as she shoved a mound of green goo into her mouth.

“Will you be staying with him?” Keonin prompted. Then, with a pinch of hesitance, ”Will you have time to see me?“

Ptillo paused and glanced up at her.

”I'm worried,“ Keonin said, “that you'll be isolated, as cults wont to do.”

“I had freedom last time, that shouldn't change now.“

”And if it does?”

“He knows better.” Ptillo tapped her spoon against the plastic snack cup. “Or, he should know better. And if he doesn't, I'll make him.”

Keonin laughed, “I have no doubt.“

She glanced to the side then, feining interest in the wooden grooves and rings of Ptillo's fireplace mantel. Few keepsakes made this their home; a intricately carved crow, a pretty arrange of knives, and a few framed photographs: one with Makona, Ptillo, and Elnric, and the other being Ptillo, Keonin, and a scribbled-out man they both knew the identity of. Her bright red gaze lingered on the scribbles. He had been a shared heartache for them both. ”But he's not all you have.“

Ptillo's posture tensed a bit. She tossed the plastic spoon in the sink and the cup in the trash can beside the counter. ”Old me would have stabbed someone by now, with how much I've been lectured about this. It's my life. Besides,” the Purple looked back at Keonin with her arms crossed, but the expression on her face was far from angered or disappointed. “Wouldn't you be inclined to go back to someone you had lost? Someone who saved you from yourself or worse, and helped to shape you into the person you are today? It shouldn't be a crime to miss someone like that, or to want to be by their side after they've been ripped from you so cruelly. Right?”

Keonin's lips pressed into a fine line. She knew all too well the sentiment Ptillo invoked. Another similarity she shared with the laughsassin, even if Ptillo was unaware of it. With a deep, quiet sigh, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them, dragging her gaze away from Ptillo.

“I understand. Just… please don't lose yourself.”

“Lose myself?” Ptillo snorted, “I got you and Makona for that, don't I? Makona would kick my ass if I wasn't as hot and sexy as I am now.” A playfulness sung in her tone, and it brought Keonin some relief that Ptillo knew there were people in her life that cared enough to hold her accountable.

“I mean it though. This gives me a bad feeling. I don't want you hurt.”

“I suppose that would be bad for you, since you're living in my hive and all.”

“It's more than that. So much more than that.” Keonin put her face in her hands, stifling a sigh of frustration. “I don't think I can convey to you how much more it is than that.”

“Aw, Keo, it sounds like you're just so insanely in love with me,” Ptillo sat beside her on the couch, an arm reaching behind the other Troll as she stretched out. “I'm teasing. But I'll be fine. I'm wanted there. I'll have purpose again.”

“Ptillo, you're wanted here!” Keonin frowned and looked at her friend. “Makona, Faerli, Elnric, myself, even those two in the other room. Casitt would be dead if it wasn't for you. I don't think there's any good coming from a man who has hurt you so much. He's admitted as much, and still you go back to him.“

”It's not the same!“ For a moment, the scleras of Ptillo's eyes turned a hue redder, but it cleared as quickly as it came. ”I know I'm wanted here. I know there's people around me who care, even if I'm stupid sometimes and forget. But it's not the kind of … want… I want.“

”Well? What do you want?“

Ptillo thought about it for a moment, staring off towards the front door across from them. The minutes were counting down. She'd have to leave soon to go to the church. Tythus' church. The place where she had remade her life at a young age, free from the perverted hands of those who used to own her. Why then did it feel so empty to be free?

“I want to be in love again, Keonin. I want to fill the void he left behind.”

There it was. A sharp pain twisted in Keonin's chest as if Ptillo had just stabbed her herself. For as independent as Ptillo made herself to be, she could not run from the single lesson that she had learned out of her relatively short existence: that she isn't worth anything unless she is desired. She was a woman who was in love with the feeling that being wanted brings and relied on it to feel safe. She did not want to be loved. She wanted to be owned, and she painfully had mistaken the two.

Keonin fell silent and leaned against Ptillo's side. Her arms wrapped around the younger Troll, pulling her into a comfortable hug. Ptillo's hand landed on Keonin's back, giving soft and gentle rubs full of love. Real love. Not the kind Ptillo was chasing after with her priest. They sat like this for some time, until Ptillo adjusted herself and prepared to leave for that night's sermon.

Ptillo's hand was on the doorknob when Keonin spoke up. “Ptillo, wait—.”

“Hm?” She tossed a glance over her shoulder. “What is it? I don't have all night. I gotta go, Tythus is waiting.”

“Yes, but,” Keonin hesitated, fumbling with her sleeves. She took a moment to study the ground before looking back up. “I know I can't give you the same kind of 'want' you're looking for,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, “But I was thinking. Thinking that I would like to be your moirail, if you'd have me.”

A thick and uncomfortable silence panned the room. Ptillo's eyes never left Keonin's brightly burning face, and the Mutant almost came to wish that she hadn't said anything at all. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Keonin shook her head.

“Ah, never mind me. You have an appointment to go to, don't let me keep you, please. We can talk about it later.“

Ptillo moved from the door and back to the couch. She tilted Keonin's face up to look at her, her thumb brushing over Keonin's cheek. ”Yeah,“ Ptillo answered softly, just above a whisper. ”We can talk. We can.” Ptillo seemed to be hesitating, words dancing on her lips that were ultimately left unsaid. After a moment or two, she pressed her lips to Keonin's forehead and pushed herself away. “I'll be back.“

Keonin watched as Ptillo finally pulled the door open and quickly shuffled out of the cabin. She sat there in contemplative silence, and when it became too unbearable for her, she went into the next room to look after the other three Trolls in her care.

#Keonin Caniss #Ptillo Uyilst #fevur writing

[lgg5989]

Church Encounters Chapter 15

Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for your continued support of this fic, @barbiewritesstuff and I are having a great time writing it. She is posting this on her tumblr as well so jump over and give her a like or a comment. We have had a few requests for side drabbles and stuff about these characters and we will be happy to answer them! Just send us asks :)

You can find the previous chapters on my Masterlist, and you can read the whole series so far on my Ao3! I made the moodboard, I hope you enjoy it! :D

Comment on my post or @barbiewritesstuff’s post to be added to the tag list.

PS. If Glen is reading this, do you like it so far?

Tagging: @roosterscock  @sydneyhlove

“Right you miscreants, we’re off,” Bob shouted over the thirty teenagers chatting around the church parking lot, “I want you walking in a line, watch out for traffic and Michael, this one is specifically for you, we DO NOT push our friends onto the street, even as a joke,” he added, staring Micheal Watts directly in the eyes. 

Bob wasn’t supposed to be by himself with all the kids today, but Matt called him to let him know something else had come up, and Jake was busy preparing for his upcoming nuptials. So here he was, standing in the parking lot of St. Michael the Archangel Catholic Church trying to corral thirty teens on to the sidewalk to walk to the park. 

The walk wasn’t far, but there was one intersection they had to cross and Bob just prayed to God that they made it there and back safely, or else he would never be able to do anything like this again. 

As the group slowly made its way down the street, towards the park, Bob spotted a familiar Bronco sitting in the parking lot of the Protestant church. The sight brought a smile to his face, maybe Rooster had taken his advice and was trying to get himself right with God.

He was torn out of his thoughts when the group came to a stop on the corner. Many of the kids had already hit the button for the walk symbol and the incessant beeping was still permeating the air around them, “Alright, that’s enough on the walk button, it knows there’s people here,” Bob called towards the front of the group, not surprised in the least to see Micheal Watts’ disappointed face as he was pushed away from the button.

As they waited for a few cars to let them out, Bob noticed Rooster coming out of the church. Before he could turn away and pretend like he hadn’t encroached on the man’s private matters, Rooster looked up, making eye contact with him. 

Bob nodded to him with a small smile on his face, holding the kickball up in the air like an offering, he asked, “You any good at kickball Bradshaw?”

Rooster let out a loud laugh, “I was, once. What’s all this?”

“Youth group,” Bob replied, “Another guy was supposed to help me but it appears that he had better things to do with his Wednesday evening. What do you say, you want to join?”

Just then, the group of teens started moving across the road, Bob raised an eyebrow at Rooster in an attempt to hurry up his decision. 

“Alright, I’ll join you,” he said, jogging up to Bob and crossing the street with the group of kids. 

“How’d you get into this?” he asked. 

“Well…” Bob started, not sure how much of his religious journey he wanted to share, “Cyclone really. He encouraged me to join the church and I was feeling in a volunteering mood that day I guess.” 

Rooster just nodded, pushing his Ray-Bans further up his nose. As the kids walked up to the kickball diamond painted on the blacktop Bob called out, “Alright everyone, this is my friend Rooster, he’s going to be our second team captain. Now let’s divide up into even teams, and let’s have a respectful game, okay?”

A chorus of voices answered back, “Yes Bob!”

With that, the kids divided themselves into two teams of fifteen, Bob and Rooster making it an even sixteen per team. The game went well, and by the end both men were laughing along with the kids while they played. As they walked back to the Catholic church, Bob turned to Rooster, “Thanks for hanging out with us, I really appreciate the help.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, “It was actually a lot of fun.” 

Bob nodded, a smile on his face, “Yeah, these guys know how to have a good time, makes me feel a little lighter sometimes you know?” 

 Rooster nodded, before he could answer, Bob started talking again, “Do you want to grab a beer quick? It’ll be on me, since you helped me out.” 

“That sounds good, meet you at the Hard Deck?” Bradley asked. 

“See you there,” Bob replied as Rooster split off from the group and headed to his truck. 

Once all the teens had been picked up and Bob spoke to Michael’s parents for the third time this month, he left the church. He pulled into the Hard Deck’s parking lot forty minutes later, having seemingly been stuck behind every late night delivery truck San Diego had to offer. He had abandoned the idea of changing roughly ten minutes into his journey and walked into the bar still wearing his bubblegum pink ‘Saint Michael The Archangel Church Youth Minister  Of The Year’ shirt and jean shorts, looking dishevelled and exhausted. 

Attracting all sorts of looks, Bob slumped onto one of the barstools and raised a hand to Penny, she opened the minifridge below the bar top and pulled out a coke.

“Beer please, Pen,” he corrected her.

“Thought you didn’t drink?” she asked with a smile and a slightly confused look on her face.

“I don’t, Penny, but Michael Watts joined us at youth group today,” he told her, Penny nodded, no doubt having heard about the boy’s legendary lack of common sense from Amelia with whom he shared a school yard. She twisted the top off of a Coors Light and set it down in front of him with a pint glass before her attention was caught by a new group of patrons. Bob ordered two more beers before Penny could spare a minute to talk to him.

“What’s he done today?” she asked, wiping the condensation from another customer’s glass off the bar top.

“He tried, in his infinite genius, to fight a police officer… Lucky Rooster knew the guy because I would NOT have bailed him out. Fuck Matt for leaving me to deal with thirty kids by myself,” he told her, ignoring her slightly confused and highly amused look, “You know there’s a limit on how many kids we can watch right? Like, if the parents heard about it we’d all be in trouble,“ he added, too angry to care that he was swinging the bottle as he spoke, spraying his neighbours with beer, “He’s lucky I’m not ratting him out to Jake --” 

“Ratting who out to me? What happened? Youth group go okay?” Jake appeared behind Bob, his footsteps silenced by the song playing on the jukebox, “You drinking beer now Bob?”

“I don’t like it but today has not been a Pepsi Max day, Jake,” he said, thrusting his fist into his friend’s chest, the bottle splashing his white shirt, “Shit, sorry man.”

Jake ignored the stain, “Bobby are you drunk?” he asked with a grin.

“Absolutely not, just -- ‘m fine,” Bob replied.

“Right, sure. Who’s lucky not to be ratted out?” Jake insisted, bringing one arm to hold Bob onto his seat.

“Nope,” Bob replied, popping the ‘P’.

“Are you okay man? You haven’t been yourself lately…” Jake asked, worried. 

He had noticed how on edge Bob had been as of late, with a temper he didn’t think Bob had. The previous Monday, Jake had walked in on something strange too. Bob had been pacing in the base recreation room, whispering things to himself and checking it against the lines he had written on a piece of paper. When Jake had entered the room, Bob had turned beet red with embarrassment and refused to utter more than a few words for the rest of the workday.

“I miss Maria. ‘Been trying to work up the courage to ‘sk your dad for her hand for a month now,” Bob said, his voice thick with his Oklahoma accent. 

“That’s it?” Jake laughed.

His mother had been fishing for information on a possible proposal for Maria for weeks now, annoying him with so many questions that Jake now actively avoided her calls. She had gotten smart in the past week though, stealing Gio or Tony’s phones to call. It had been so obvious to him how much his family liked Bob that he hadn’t thought the man might actually have been worried. 

“No, you’re right,” Bob said, “That’s not it. Fuck Michael Watts!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, Bobby. You’ve had enough for today, Michael is like, fifteen, okay, he’s a kid,” Jake said, wrestling Bob’s beer out of his hand, then, he turned to Penny, “How many beers has he had?” he asked. Penny raised three fingers in response.

“Jesus, Bobby, you’re a lightweight,” he breathed out, moving Bob off of his stool, lifting one of his arms over his shoulders and supporting his weight as they walked towards the door.

“Yeah I was, lightweight wrestling champion for like three years in high school, how’d you know,” Bob asked, looking up at Jake with glazed eyes. 

“You are so drunk,” Jake laughed, guiding the smaller man to his truck. 

“Please don’t tell Maria,” Bob said, “She doesn’t know that I drink on occasion.” 

Jake hummed, helping Bob into the passenger seat of his truck, closing the door as soon as Bob was seated and buckled up. Having lost the support of his friend, Bob fell to the side and knocked his head on the window. 

----

When Jake woke up the next morning, Bob was still snoring on the sofa. He’d never seen his friend drunk before and not knowing what kind of stupid stuff Bob could do by himself, he’d decided to bring Bob to your house, calling you on the way back to ask for your permission which you gave while trying to hold in a giggle.

You had already prepared a glass of water and a painkiller and set them by Bob’s side when Jake started on breakfast. He mixed the batter and left it to rest while he showered and drank a cup of coffee, all of it soundtracked by Bob’s gentle snoring. It was only when Jake started on flipping the pancakes that the WSO woke up with a start and a disorientated look. 

“Mornin’,” he greeted you with a wave and a wince.

“Good morning sunshine, how are you feeling,” you asked, trying to suppress a giggle.

“Please tell me I didn’t say anything too stupid last night?” he asked Jake when he appeared behind you

“Michael Watts apparently gave you trouble,” Jake said.

“Tried to fight a cop,” Bob groaned, “Ate a bug… You know… As Michael does,” he explained, leaving out the part where the only reason the teen didn’t end up in jail was because Rooster had been there to help because Bob couldn’t find a way to twist it so he wouldn’t be telling on Matt, “Did I say anything else?” he asked, hoping Jake wouldn’t have too much time to think about what he had said.

“Oh, not much… Something about marrying Maria?” Jake replied with a grin. You spun around, looking at him with eyes the size of dinner place, one hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Ah shit,” Bob swore, “Fuck,” he added for good measure.

“Bob,” you breathed out, looking at Jake to be sure you heard him right.

“I haven’t asked her -- your -- dad yet,” Bob replied, raising one hand towards Jake in a ‘don’t get ahead of yourself’ way as he pushed himself off of the sofa with a groan. Bob bent in half, hands on his knees and stayed there for a minute, then, when the stars left his eyes, he stood back up, picking up the pills and swallowing them quickly without touching the glass of water.

“Are you serious about wanting to marry her?” Jake asked him. 

Bob nodded, then winced, “Yeah, she’s it for me. Every day I spend without her presence is torture, and when we are together the time flies. She is funny and beautiful, and she is the only one who I’ve ever really felt comfortable opening up to.” 

You let out an excited squeal, dancing around the kitchen, “Bob you have to ask her soon then!” 

Jake nodded, “Why haven’t you asked dad yet?”

Bob let out a laugh pausing when you and Jake didn’t laugh as well, “Wait, you’re serious? Your dad and your brothers are all like you, man. Massive. I’m nervous.” 

“They all know what happened to me at Christmas, what if they think I’m like my old man? What if he doesn’t think I’m good enough for Maria?” Bob said, in a smaller voice than before. 

Jake shook his head, “Bob, my mom has been calling me twice a week to try and figure out if I know when you are going to propose. I think they like you.” 

“Really?” he asked, his face brightening as he looked to your for confirmation. With a smile on your face, you nodded, you had to sit through the conversations, getting any gossip out of Jake was like pulling teeth and you thought it was funny.

“I had an idea,” Bob said, making his way to the kitchen island, “I wanted to ask in Italian, but as you both know, I can’t speak it.” 

“Is that what I found you doing last week?” Jake asked, “You’re trying to practice Italian?”

“Yeah,” Bob confirmed sheepishly as you placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. 

He practically inhaled the pancakes while Jake spoke, “I can work with you on the Italian if that’s how you want to do it, then you should just call him. My mother has probably already made him promise to say yes. She says my sister is constantly talking to you at home.” 

Bob nodded, “Yeah, we talk. A lot. She’s my best friend, you know?”

Jake looked at you before nodding, “Yeah I know,” he pressed a kiss on your forehead before handing you a plate of pancakes. As you sat down to eat, you thought of how exciting it would be to be a part of Bob and Maria’s proposal in some way. 

Later that day, Jake sat down with Bob to work on the Italian for his permission speech. Bob paced the floor, walking around the living room, swinging his arms and downing coffees faster than you could make it. 

If you thought you were bad with nerves, you had nothing on Bob. Even without the five cups of coffee he had downed by the time he and Jake had sat down at the kitchen to practice, he had been practically shaking with nerves since telling you about his plan. Then, when Jake had managed to herd him into a chair to look through his script, he twitched his knee so badly he managed to tip over a vase of flowers. 

“Shit, I am so sorry,” Bob apologised as you ran to mop up the spilled water. 

“Bobby, buddy, I think you just have to bite the bullet,” Jake said, thrusting an already ringing phone in Bob’s hand.

The colour drained out of Bob’s face, “You bastard,” he whispered, bringing it to his phone on time for Giovanni Senior to pick up.

“C'è un problema?” Jake’s father asked, skipping the hellos and immediately asking if there was a problem. 

“Signore, sono Bob” Bob introduced himself with a shaky voice that made him cringe. 

Jake looked at him expectantly, unable to take any more pressure, Bob walked out of the kitchen and into the living room where he opened the french bay windows and walked out into the sunroom. He closed the door behind him and turned around so neither you nor Jake would be able to see anything he was saying.

Sadly for Bob, the glass doors weren’t as soundproof as he hoped as you and Jake heard Bob make his request in an accented Italian. As he did so, Jake whispered the translation into your ear.

“Maria is a truly remarkable woman. She is gentle, kind, clever, funny and supportive. She is my best friend, the person I want to wake up to in the morning and go to sleep with at night. She is the first person I would call with good or bad news, or just because. She is remarkable and the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love her, Sir, and if you’ll allow me, I would very much like to marry her. I promise I will love her, cherish her, care for her, and honour her every day of the rest of our lives. I will support her in everything she wants to do, I will cheer for her when it works out and I will hold her when it doesn’t. I promise sir, that I will do that now and forever. I promise I’ll take care of her sir.” Jake said, quickly standing straight and busying himself when Bob turned around to pretend he hadn’t just been eavesdropping on the most stressful moment of his friend’s life. 

Bob stayed quiet for a moment before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. Then, he slid the glass doors open and walked into the living room. 

“So?” Jake prompted. 

“I despise you,” Bob laughed, pointing an accusing finger at Jake, “HE SAID YES,” he shouted, throwing his arms into the air and jumping so high he touched the ceiling. You and Jake erupted into cheers, the three of you jumping in each other’s arms in joy.

When the excitement had died down a little, the realisation of what he had done seemed to down upon Bob.

“Oh, God,” Bob said, sitting down on the couch, his smile fading only a little. 

“What?” you asked him, confused, “This is great, what’s wrong?”

“I need to get a ring…” he said, trailing off, “What if I don’t get one that she likes?”

And that is how the three of you ended up standing in the jewellers at three twenty-seven in the afternoon on a Thursday. Once the ring was found, Jake and Bob breathed a sigh of relief. Bob’s over the perfect ring now in his possession, and Jake’s for the fact that you had sisters who not only knew what you wanted, but gave it to him free of charge. 

----

“Babe?” Jake’s voice rang through the closed door of the room you were getting ready in. 

Your venue had fallen through two weeks ago, just as you were finalising the details. In desperation, Jake had called up a friend who had managed to pull some strings. The US Naval Academy had, by miracle, been free for the weekend and you and Jake had almost immediately packed up the truck with everything you had planned for your California Wedding and driven down to Annapolis to tour the place. Jake had been before. He had graduated there and been to a few of his friends’ weddings, but having almost sworn himself to a bachelor’s lifestyle, he hadn’t thought to take a good look.

It had been love at first sight. If the chapel, with its beautiful stained glass windows hadn’t been charming enough by itself, the grounds certainly did the trick. Jake’s friend, an instructor at the Academy had kindly taken the day off to show you around and provided you with a brief rundown of the events. After being married at the chapel, you would exit through an arch of swords, a long run tradition symbolising the military’s commitment to the protection of the couple, and make your way to the reception area. 

As much as Jake would have liked an outdoor reception, you had both decided to book something covered as Annapolis could get cold. The Naval Academy Club was the perfect reception venue and they provided catering, so your whirlwind change of plans wasn’t an issue for them. Their catering manager was a Godsend and she helped with every detail. 

Considering the short time you had had to plan the wedding at the new location, you were impressed with how it had turned out. Of course, you hadn’t been able to book every vendor and service you had cancelled in California which is why you had stayed up late with Annie, Audrey, Maria, and Phoenix making table centres, bridesmaid bouquets, and your bridal bouquet on the floor of the bridal suite while Jake and his groomsmen set up the Naval Academy Club for the reception. It was also why you were now applying the final touches of the makeup you had luckily thought to practice a few times before the big day. 

“Baby?” Jake asked again as you applied your eyeliner, trying to stay as still as possible so as to not smear it everywhere. 

You put the pencil down, checking your work with a satisfied smile before answering with a hum. Noticing a trace of lipstick on your front teeth, you wiped it clean with a manicured finger. 

“Do you want to pray with me?” he asked, opening the door a crack to pass his hand through.

You stood up from your chair, careful not to step on your dress, and walked over to Jake. You interlaced your fingers with his and squeezed them slightly in excitement. 

“Do you mind if I lead?” he asked. You shook your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. Instead of speaking up, you stayed silent, fairly certain that if you spoke the emotions you felt might bubble over and the happy tears that had threatened to spill since you woke up would ruin your makeup. 

You didn’t need to answer, however, as Jake correctly interpreted your silence, “ Our Father, Who art in Heaven; Hallowed be Thy name; Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our tresspasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil,” Jake finished.

He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts before speaking again, “Heavenly Father, we come to you on the day of our wedding to pray to you. May you bless this union and fill our marriage with memories to treasure, with love, kindness and children. May we never waver in our faith, or love for one another. May we strive, together, to be better people in your image and may we raise our children to do the same,” he continued. 

You raised a hand in front of your face, fanning the tears away as they fell down your cheeks. Jake went on, “Father, thank you for bringing us together, for listening to our prayers and granting us one another. I pray that with every passing day our love grows stronger and the comfort we find in each other grows deeper. May our differences strengthen our bond. May we need one another, but not out of weakness. May we want one another, but not out of lacking. And may we feel the same towards one another on our deathbeds as we do now. Amen,” he concluded. Your body shook with an involuntary sob, your hand flying to cover up your mouth. 

“Baby, are you okay?” Jake asked, forgetting yourself again, you nodded in response. 

Feeling your hand tremble as you held his, Jake turned around and pushed open the door. He entered the room to find you standing a few feet away from the door, crying into your hands. 

“Honey, honey, I am so sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, pulling you close to him so he could cup your face with both hands, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

“You’re not supposed to see me yet,” you mumbled, your voice thick with tears.

“Oops,” Jake replied with a teary smile. Seeing you cry had made him tear up. He tore his eyes away from your face, letting them roam over your face for a moment, trying not to look down at the dress too much “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispered, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

You resurfaced a moment later, when a knock echoed through the room and Coyote gingerly walked in, “Guys, 15 minutes.” 

“Right, yes. I better go and let you get ready,” Jake said, letting go of you and turning towards the door, “I love you,” he said before exiting the room. You were only left by yourself for a minute before your sisters, the flower girls and your bridesmaids walked in for last minute preparations.

---- 

The chapel didn’t have much additional decoration besides the few flower arrangements that you and your bridesmaids had prepared the night before. The space was beautiful in its own right, and you didn’t want to take away from that at all. As you arrived at the chapel, they guided you down the stairs into a basement room where you could wait for the rest of the guests to arrive. 

Sofia and Catalina were already in the room as well as Phoenix, Maria, Audrey, and Annie. When you came into the room, they all gushed over your dress, “Y/n, you look beautiful,” Annie said, brushing one hand gently over the fabric of your sleeve. 

“My brother is going to be speechless,” Maria said, her eyes filled with excitement, you weren’t sure if it was for the wedding or for Jake’s impending speechlessness. 

You let out a light laugh, “He was.” 

The rest of the room grew silent at your confession, “He’s already seen you? That’s bad luck!” Sofia said, looking at you with wide eyes. 

“Well, he didn’t mean to. He stood outside the door and we held hands to pray, but his prayer was so sweet, it made me cry,” you said, tearing up again, “He pushed inside to hug me, but I don’t think he will be any less surprised when I walk down the aisle.”

She nodded, “I think you’re right, you are truly stunning.” 

With a blush covering your face, and a quiet, “Thank you,” the girls began helping you attach the veil to your elegant updo, and soon after, there was a knock on the door, a deep voice saying, “It’s time.” 

Audrey opened the door and hugged the man on the other side. When she stepped back, revealing Beau in the doorway, you felt yourself tear up. You had seen him earlier at the hotel, but you were overwhelmed with Jake’s heartfelt prayer and you hadn’t thought about your walk down the aisle yet. 

Everyone but him left the room, making their way upstairs as the organ started to play. He was dressed to the nines in his dress whites, the heavily decorated man wrapped your arm around his as he stood at your side, waiting to escort you up the stairs and down the aisle. 

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, through the veil before whispering in your ear, “The car’s running if you’ve changed your mind.” 

You let out a fully bellied laugh, pulling the man into a hug, “Thanks dad, but no, he’s the one for me.” 

“Well alright then, let’s get you to the altar,” he said, squeezing your hand with his before leading you up the stairs and into the chapel. 

The organ sounded through the chapel with the traditional Wedding March and all of your family and friends in attendance stood, looking at the end of the aisle. Beau guided you through the flowered archway that Audrey and Annie had put around the doorframe and a smile broke over your face. 

As he guided you up the aisle, you only had eyes for Jake. He was standing there, in front of the Catholic Chaplin, chin wobbling and a few tears streaming down his face. As you got closer to him, you heard him clear his throat. Jake pulled a familiar handkerchief from his pocket and quickly wiped his face before you and Beau arrived at his side. 

Beau gave you a kiss on the cheek before releasing your arm. He shook Jake’s hand, saying something to him quietly, before Jake’s arm was entwined in yours and he guided you the final feet to the edge of the altar. 

As you stood there, in front of everyone you loved dearly, you couldn’t help but think about how similar Catholic weddings were to regular mass. It made you happy to think that every time you went to church now, you would think of this moment. 

As the chaplin finished his homily, he turned to the two of you, “Lieutenant Commander Seresin, and Lieutenant Y/ln have decided to read their own vows today,” turning to Jake he said, “Mr. Seresin, the floor is yours.” 

Jake took a deep breath, slipping his hand into the pocket of his dress pants to pull out a crumpled piece of paper. Letting out a quiet laugh he said quietly, “I was a little nervous.” 

You laughed with him, gripping his hand tighter as he began to speak, “For years I was convinced that this day would never come, that I was destined to be alone. Then you walked into my life, and everything changed. 

We were standing on the hot tarmac after a long day of training, and I remember the kindness in your eyes that few had ever shown me during my time in the Navy. You captured my attention, the only woman to show me what peace could be like even in the midst of war. Your callsign should have tipped me off, Dove, the symbol of peace, love, and the Holy Spirit. 

When you ran into me leaving mass on that rainy day in September, I didn’t think it would change my life completely. With each date we went on, I found myself more and more enraptured by you. The day your jet went down on that tarmac, I thought my heart stopped. We had only been dating a few months, but I could have sworn in that moment, I knew exactly what you meant to me, you are my other half, the better, nicer half, of my soul. God sent you to me in a time when I didn’t feel like I deserved much of anything, let alone you.”

Jake paused, his voice had grown thick with the emotions he was desperately trying to hold back, “I promise to love and protect you, from now until the end of time. During times of war and times of peace, I will be by your side to face it all together. I do not know where the Navy will send me, but you are my lighthouse in the night, and I will always find my way home.” 

You pushed out a shaking breath as the chaplain turned to you, “Lieutenant Y/ln?”

Turning to Phoenix, she handed you the paper with your vows written on it. Unfolding the neat sheet, you took a deep breath before speaking, “Jacob Seresin, you have a habit of leaving me breathless and you have done it again,” you said with a small laugh, “From the moment I saw you on the tarmac, your golden hair and dazzling smile pointed in my direction, you took my breath away. 

I was surprised to see you in mass, and for a moment I found myself speechless. I had thought I was the only pilot in the Navy that was Catholic and I can’t tell you how happy I am to have been proven wrong. You cooked me breakfast the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that and I found myself excited with the end of each week, looking forward to seeing you each Sunday. I am so glad that I left my chapel veil in your possession that Sunday in September, it was God’s way of bringing us together.”

You paused for a moment, trying to swallow down the burning in your throat, “You are a proud man, and you should be, a highly decorated Lieutenant Commander, the best pilot the Navy has ever seen, and the most wonderful man I know. Many people only know you as being rather prickly, but you are so much more than that, and I am so glad that I get to see it every day. 

During high tides and low tides I will be there, as your anchor or tug to keep you steady and afloat. I promise to stand next to you and face the rough seas and storms that will come in our lives. I will love you on deployments, at home, and anywhere in between. You are the love of my life, soon to be my husband, and hopefully, the father of our children. I only wish you fair winds and following seas as we start our journey together,” you finished, a few tears finding their way down your cheeks. 

Looking up at Jake, you were met with red rimmed eyes and his own tears, he mouthed to you, ‘I love you,’ before the chaplain turned to him, “The rings please.” 

The man blessed the rings before handing your wedding band to Jake. Jake took the ring in his trembling hand and slipped it on your finger, leaving his hand there he repeated the words that the two of you had practised for days, “Y/n, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Turning now to you, the chaplain offered you Jake’s wedding band. You took it and pushed the cool metal onto Jake’s finger, “Jacob, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

The chaplain nodded before saying, “By the power vested in me by God, the State of Maryland, and the United States Navy, I pronounce you husband and wife. Lieutenant Commander, you may kiss your bride.” 

Jake pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight hug, and pressed a passionate and deep kiss to your lips. The chapel erupted in cheers and whistles and when Jake pulled away from you, you chased his lips for one more kiss before the two of you separated so that the mass could continue. 

Jake still held your hand for the Our Father, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek when it was time to exchange peace. You smiled, it was the first kiss he had given you as your husband, well besides the kiss to seal the deal. The lighter than air feeling you had been experiencing all day became overwhelming, and by the end of mass, you could have sworn that you were floating on air. 

As the two of you walked out of the church, to the cheers of your family, you were greeted at the doors by eight Marines dressed in their formal dress blues. The men drew their swords and held them in the air above your heads as you and Jake walked under them. Your families followed you out of the chapel, and the photographer you hired started instructing people to pose for pictures. 

Finally, when your family and friends had been directed to the Naval Academy Club, the photographer had you and Jake pose for just a few pictures of the two of you. You knew, even before seeing the photos, that your favourite was going to be the one where she had Jake dip you in front of the chapel, the garden visible behind you as he pressed a kiss to your lips. 

When she had taken enough photos, Jake led you to the truck, helping you climb inside and driving the short distance to the Club. 

“I love you, wife,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as he helped you out. 

“I love you more, husband,” you said back, leaning up to kiss him properly. Jake pressed you into the side of the truck, his hands wandering up and down your sides gently. Letting out a groan, he pulled away from your lips, “You’re going to kill me darlin’,” he said quietly. 

“We have plenty of time for that Lieutenant Commander Seresin,” you said, pressing one last peck to his lips before pulling him into the building. As the DJ announced you for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Seresin, Jake pushed the doors open with his free hand, and the two of you entered the dining room. 

----

You stood at the door of the reception area for a moment taking in the scene. It looked exactly as you had discussed with Jake, except for a large projector screen at the back of the room. The tables and chairs had been assembled into an ‘U’ shape around the dancefloor, pointing towards the screen. 

“Hope you don’t mind, baby, I took some creative liberties,” Jake whispered into your ear, “I promise though you will love it.” 

The purpose of the screen wasn’t immediately obvious to you. It stayed unused through the speeches, and even through dinner. It was only when you stood up to cut the cake that it flickered to life. A home video appeared on screen. Cyclone waved at the camera standing next to Elisabeth in their own wedding clothes, holding the knife together much like you and Jake were doing at that moment. 

“Ready?” Someone on screen asked.

“3. 2. 1,” the crowd around Beau and his new wife chanted

A familiar little girl appeared on screen, barely tall enough to reach Cyclone’s hip. She raised her hands up to him, scared by the noise of the people around her. He let go of the knife and picked her up, sandwiching her between himself and Elisabeth, doing his best to wipe the tears away from your face with the sleeve of his dress whites.  

“Do you want to help?” Elisabeth asked. When you nodded, she waved over Annie and Audrey. Cyclone bent down slightly so the five of you could grab the knife together.

“Right,” Cyclone said, “Ready… Steady…Cut!” 

The five of you cut through the top tier of the cake, removing the slice and setting it aside on a plate. Elisabeth and Cyclone grabbed two small silver spoons and cut a bite of the red velvet cake. After having the first mouthful of cake, Cyclone went back for another spoonful, this time presenting it to you. You opened your mouth, but the camera didn’t capture much more as a guest bumped the videographer and it cut away to a black screen. 

You turned to Jake. He winked at you, “Ready,” he asked. You nodded, cutting your own slice and trying the first spoonful before distributing slices to the rest of the guests. He looked over at you when everyone was served, unbeknownst to him you scooped some icing off of the knife and wiped some on the tip of his nose. He let out a laugh before wiping it off with one of the Navy blue napkins sitting on the table. 

Before he could respond in kind, the screen flickered to life again. The sound of a song played through the speakers, On An Evening In Roma by Dean Martin immediately recognisable to you. A younger Isabella appeared on screen joining Giovanni Senior, almost unrecognisable without his usual Stetson and salt and pepper beard. Isabella took his hand and he pulled her close. They slow-danced through the song, not for a moment taking their eyes off of each other. As Dean Martin finished his song, the screen faded to black and the music of your own first dance started. 

“That certain night, the night we met

There was magic abroad in the air

There were angels dining at the Ritz

And a nightingale sang in Berkley Square”

As Frank Sinatra began his song, Jake wiped his nose and grabbed your hand, gently pulling you to the middle of the dance floor. He snaked his hand around your waist, pulling you close so you stood cheek to cheek. 

 “I may be right, I may be wrong

 But I'm perfectly willing to swear

 That when you turned and smiled at me

 A nightingale sang in Berkley Square”

 Jake whispered the lyrics into your ear, gently swaying you in time with the music. You closed your eyes, resting your head against Jake’s losing yourself to the music, trying to absorb as much of the moment as you could in the hopes of engraving it directly into your brain so you might never forget it.

 “The moon that lingered over London town

 Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown

 How could he know we two were so in love?

 The whole darn world seemed upside down”

The song continued as the two of you danced. Through closed eyes, you saw a flash. The wedding photographer had graciously offered to travel to Annapolis for the wedding instead of making you cancel your session. You were glad of it, she had come highly recommended through civilian friends.

 “The streets of town were paved with stars

 It was such a romantic affair

 And, as we kissed and said goodnight,

 A nightingale sang in Berkley Square”

As the song came to the last verse, Jake pulled you even closer, effectively hugging you as you danced. You turned your head to be able to catch a glimpse of him. He did the same when he felt you move and you exchanged excited smiles as the realisation that you were married finally dawned upon you.

 “The streets of town were paved with stars

 It was such a romantic affair

 And, as we kissed and said goodnight,

 A nightingale sang in Berkley Square

 I know 'cause I was there

 That night in Berkley Square”

The song finished and the two of you stopped moving, standing in the middle of the dancefloor by yourselves for a moment more. Eventually, Jake let go of you, backing away to be replaced by a crying Cyclone as Little Girl by Calica started up. 

The projector screen that you could see behind Beau’s shoulder flashed with pictures of your and Jake at various points of your life. As the Admiral grabbed your hand, the picture of Jake standing proud in an Indiana Jones costume changed to Cyclone sitting on a couch, shirtless, holding a little baby. You seemed to be less than a week old, covered in a tiny, white baby blanket. Beau was smiling at the camera, cheeks red and hair dishevelled. You remembered the story, Annie had told it for every birthday since you were old enough to understand. 

Beau had been stationed in Alaska that month. He had heard of your birth through Annie a few days late. The man had cited an emergency family situation and left for Indiana as soon as he had been able to, hitchhiking the 61 hour trip to Indiana with nothing on him save for a backpack of clean clothes, a toothbrush and a tiny teddy bear to give to you. 

Calica finished singing and Mama’s Sunshine and Daddy’s Rain by Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors started. Jake and Isabella joined the two of you on the dancefloor, quickly joined by Elisabeth and Peter, Matthew with the triplets and Giovanni Senior and Nonna. All of you danced to the song, only breaking apart to laugh when Maverick dragged Rooster away from Annie to dance with him. To alleviate Rooster’s embarrassment, Cyclone let go of you with a wink and danced with Bob instead. 

The next song started, a gasp went through the crowd as Earth Wind and Fire came through the speakers, September. The trumpets rang through the reception hall and the rest of the guests joined the dancefloor. You elbowed your way to Jake. As you tried to make your way to him in the crowd, you glanced over and noticed Coyote. The man was dancing like his body had been taken over by the beat of the song. He was rocking his whole body to the music, moving rhythmically as he bobbed his head back and forth. His feet danced across the floor smoothly and you were impressed with his moves. He suddenly stuck his hand out and pulled a woman into dancing with him. The dress she was wearing was the same Navy blue bridesmaid’s dress you had picked. You were surprised to see Phoenix laughing at him as she began dancing along with him. The two of them shredded the dance floor with their boogie moves. 

----

The music died down as the DJ you hired came over the microphone, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time for our favourite part of the night!” Beyonce’s Single Ladies started to play as he continued speaking, “Can we get all of the single ladies out on the dance floor for the bouquet toss please?”

There was a bit of a commotion as all of the single women made their way to the dance floor. You spotted Maria in the crowd, standing towards the back. She looked eager but like she didn’t want to push any of your sisters out of the way. You tried to give her a small smile, but she seemed to be lost to the moment. 

The song got a little louder as you pretended to throw the bouquet a few times, looking over your shoulder teasingly. You saw Jake and Bob standing at the back of the dance floor and you knew that the time was right. Turning around to face the group of women again, you started walking with purpose, the bouquet held out in front of you. 

The crowd split in two, and you walked straight up to Maria, placing the bouquet in her grip. As you reached her, the song changed from Single Ladies to Scotty McCreery’s This Is It. Maria looked at you confused before realisation crossed over her face. You pulled her into a hug and said into her ear, “Turn around!” 

When you let her go, she spun to see Bob, kneeling on the edge of the dance floor. The room got quiet trying to hear what he was saying to her over the music, but that was between them and God because even you couldn’t hear. 

Maria nodded, clearly saying, “Yes!” with her response, Bob pulled her into a hug, spinning her around. Her Navy bridesmaid’s dress spun around their ankles delicately. The photographer was alerted before the wedding that this was the plan, and she captured picture after picture of their joy. Bob’s head was buried in Maria’s neck and Maria was smiling wider than you had ever seen before. 

The crowd gathered for your wedding went crazy with Bob’s proposal. As he and Maria split apart, Bob was pulled away from her by Coyote and Rooster, who were patting him on the back and celebrating. Maria was swept up by your sisters-in-law and was proudly showing them her ring, one hand still pressed over her mouth in shock.  

You watched as Jake pulled Bob into a hug, saying something to him before shaking his hand and making his way to you. The grin that you had been wearing all night could not be wiped off, and seeing your husband wearing one too made you feel a little giddy. 

As the song faded out, the familiar notes of one of Jake’s favourite tunes came over the speakers, he always told you how much My Girl reminded him of you. He pulled you into his arms, starting the slow dancing on the floor. You were soon joined by Maria and Bob, your parents, and, surprisingly, Coyote and Phoenix. By the end of the song almost every couple in attendance at the wedding was on the floor. 

Leaning up into Jake, you asked, “What did you say to him?”

“Who?” he asked, feigning innocence. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Bob!”

“Just big brother stuff, you know, the usual, if you hurt her I’ll hurt you kind of thing,” Jake said quietly. 

“What did he say?” you asked, wondering how Bob was taking Jake’s brotherly teasing. 

Jake let out a quiet laugh before answering, “He said, ‘If I am stupid enough to hurt her, then I would find you Seresin. She deserves the best.’”

You nodded at his words, “I think she got one of the best.” 

Jake pretended to be shocked, “You don’t think I’m the best?” 

Your tinkling laugh answered him, as you continued dancing in his arms, “That’s a given, you are always my best.” 

#hangman #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four Chapter 21

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 118k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: In order to save the world from the continuous subjugation and potential annihilation at the hands of Tiandi, hard lines must be drawn. The Great Spirits that were imprisoned ages ago must be unsealed and awakened, no matter the consequences.

The players are divided—those who stand blindly with Tiandi, such as Xiang Merra and her disciples versus those who want to tear the system down and give the power back to the people. Even a few of the most religious Lords change their minds when they learn the truth of the world—that Tiandi is no more than a dictator with no love in his heart.

It is up to the last, real Xiang and the ill-fated Chaaya to put everything they have into tearing God from his throne and creating new possibilities for the future.

Full chapter 21 under the cut

Chapter XXI:

The large torches, lining the walls of the throne room, dimmed and swayed under the force of the wind blowing through the back window. All of the doors had been shut and both Ryu and Sampra were charged with guarding every possible entrance to the room.

That meant they would be cheated out of a proper explanation but, in order to ensure the safety and privacy of the impromptu meeting, they had to do it.

King Din Raime Cast looked as though he had aged quite a lot since the last time that Pangu had seen him. Kira noticed it as well but he suspected he was the last person with any authority to comment on another’s rapidly changing body. Between the two of them, Kira would say that he looked significantly worse off.

The King, mostly, suffered from dark circles around his eyes and a permanent frown. He had never been the most cheerful fellow they had met but he would show a little levity now and then. As they looked upon him now, it was clear that the past year of struggling under Merra’s thumb had nearly broken his spirit.

So, Pangu told him everything that he could within the allotted time they had. He skipped over the details that he deemed frivolous which resulted in him, about his own resurrection, saying, “One of the princesses in Mythos was taught necromancy and she brought me back to life. Then I found Raine again.”

Raine, then, helped to fill in the blanks where he could. He apologized for lying to his King in order to escape to Agni with Pangu but he did not bow or prostrate himself. He did not beg for his forgiveness but, instead, looked the man in the eye.

“My duty as the Xiang’s disciple trumped my duty as a soldier. But, most importantly, my loyalty to Pangu as my friend will, always, triumph over all.” Raine took a measured breath. “I understand if you cannot overlook my desertion but I do, still, have Kyrie’s best interest in mind.”

King Raime shifted on his throne and sighed. “Well, Xiang Merra certainly does not. Whatever it is you offer me—information or some plan of action, I would gladly take it from you rather than continue on her path to my eradication.” With a flick of his wrist he added, “Besides, Raine, I cannot properly punish you for choosing Pangu over me when it was my order, initially, that placed you at his side. I had intended for you to uphold the sacred duty of disciple. If you had abandoned Pangu in order to stay with me, I would have been more disappointed.”

It was a relief to hear the words spoken out. Raine finally bowed his head and sighed. “Thank you…”

Pangu allowed them their moment before returning to business. “King Raime,” he said and the man met his eyes, “We have learned much about the true nature of Tiandi and his plans for this world. You, already, oppose these plans in your heart. In order to stop Merra’s war path, we need access to the islands north of here. We believe the Great Spirit, Undine, to be sealed somewhere among them.”

“And what, exactly, is this Great Spirit?” Raime folded his hands together on his lap.

There was a moment of silence where Pangu debated just how much he wanted to tell the lord but, before he could dive into it, Kira offered, “Should I take this one?”

He nodded, grateful to have a little break.

“Is this something your new master told you?” King Raime asked with an arched brow. He had hardly looked at Kira since they walked into his throne room and he had said nothing to him, mostly due to a lack of time, but now it seemed he had some bitterness attached to his voice.

“No,” Raine answered in Kira’s stead. “This story came from one of the Heavenly Princes, actually, after he turned on his brethren in order to protect Pangu. It is also a tale passed down through the local tribes, both in remote areas of Agni and in southern Terra.”

King Raime’s expression hardly changed but his jaw set. He glanced back to Kira. “Go on.”

Kira gave an exaggerated bow. “Thank you, my liege. Anyway, back before the spirit realm, the Heavenly Princes, or even Tiandi himself, there was a Goddess of the earth and her four, elemental spirits. They protected each land and the people worshipped them and the Goddess. Presumably, the people back then could also use their respective element if their resonance was high enough.

But then Tiandi showed up, wanted this land for himself, and did what any sane, completely reasonable being would do and sealed away all of the Great Spirits and blocked the people away from their energy. The Goddess was pissed and she fought back but her despair came out in the form of, you guessed it, miasma. Thus, the battle of the ages began.”

“So,” the King pulled his beard between his fingers, “Tiandi is not actually the God of our world, is what you are telling me? He just…arrived and took over?”

“Think of what he is asking Merra to do now—is that not the same mentality?” Pangu pointed out. “He cannot stand when people are not groveling before him with complete faith. He probably left wherever he was before because people revolted against him. Then he traveled through the cosmos and found us to be gullible or weak enough for his liking.”

“That is simply speculation,” King Raime pointed out.

“Yes,” Pangu agreed, “But what is not speculation is the existence of the Great Spirits. We have already freed Sylph. That proves she and the others were forcefully imprisoned.”

“And you saw this firsthand?” his eyes cut to the side, “Raine?”

“Well, I was not there myself. This will be my first time entering the spirit realm.” His eagerness over the fact was eclipsed by the nerves surrounding King Raime’s waffling approach.

“So you need to go north, to the rocky islands that I and my fathers before me have restricted access to?”

“Yes.” Pangu replied, not skipping a beat.

King Raime shifted to lean against the other side of his throne and he looked into the distance. “You know, when I was a boy, I asked about those islands. Some of them are large enough to build on, you see, and I asked my father why we did not do something with the land. An armory, a fortress, anything…then he told me to ask one of the handmaids about it.”

“Why couldn’t he just tell you?” Kira asked.

The King chuckled and shook his head. “Too busy. Always too busy…” With a sigh, he carried on, “Alas, I asked one of the handmaids that I often spoke to and who cared for me like a mother. She told me of a story carried down through the generations about the very first Chaaya—a woman from Kyrie.”

“The nameless maiden,” Pangu recalled from his lessons.

King Raime nodded. “Exactly. Not much was known about her other than the fact she was from Kyrie and that she was defeated by the first Xiang right around where I am sitting. Castelle was founded after that fight and the nameless maiden was taken out to sea, buried in the sands of the islands. Which one, we do not know, but the rumor stands that, if she is disturbed, a misfortune will fall unto the royal house for all time.”

“Your current predicament is not misfortune enough?” Kira asked.

He chuckled. “I am inclined to agree with you, actually.”

“So,” Raine spoke up, “The islands are off limits because the first Chaaya is buried there…supposedly?”

“Yes.” The King nodded. “But, I also asked some other handmaids because the story interested me. Another version cropped up—about how the islands had always been haunted, even since before the first Xiang. All boats that were sent out to scout the area never returned or, when someone did come back, they were forever changed.

I discredited the entire thing as a silly ghost story and, when I came into power, I spoke to my advisors about doing something with the area. They all paled and begged me to leave the islands alone. I may have found it ridiculous but they were scared stiff of the mere idea of looking. I…I had too much else to do to hold onto my youthful curiosity. And so years passed me by and the thoughts left my mind as more and more important work fell into my lap.”

Pangu smiled. “Well, now is the time, is it not?”

Raime, slowly, matched his expression. “I will prepare a ship for us. Damn the nay-sayers. I am going to those islands.”

***

While the King arranged everything, they were booted outside and ordered to not leave the palace grounds. Ryu left in their place, during his break, and returned with a cart dragging behind him.

“Here,” he said and passed around warm, sweet smelling papers. Inside, there were stuffed pastries—one of the most popular street foods in Castelle. “And for Pangu, a ground vegetable pocket.”

He took it with a smile and pulled back the paper cover, allowing the steam to bellow up into the air. Raine and Kira were already halfway through their meals, not having realized until the first bite just how hungry they were. Pangu followed suit and when he bit into the pastry he was also compelled to devour the entire thing as quickly as possible.

“I have more, just in case.” Ryu pushed the cart so it was in the middle of them. As he said, it was filled with treats. “I also have some chocolate sticks, pretzels, and a tin of cookies.”

“And mixed seed bread,” Sampra noted aloud as he picked the loaf from the cart.

“That is mostly for you, love.” He looked back at him with a smile and Sampra visibly melted.

“Is it from Josen’s stall?”

Ryu nodded. “I managed to snag the last one.”

Sampra sighed wistfully and held the loaf closer to his chest. “You are the best.”

The two looked at one another with eyes filled with love but they did not move any closer or say anything else. Kira groaned. “Will you two just kiss, please? It is just us here, you do not need to be so reserved.”

“W-we are not being reserved…” Sampra tried to argue, “Usually we would not dare speak to one another like this outside of our home.”

Ryu wordlessly walked to his side and pulled his lover closer by the waist. He planted a kiss on him and gave him a short but sweet smile. “Maybe that can change,” he said and then looked toward Pangu, “Maybe it can change for all of us.”

Kira and Raine left the couple alone to talk with Pangu since they had a lot of catching up to do. Technically, the two were Pangu’s first real friends that he had made—he definitely viewed them as so and was heavily invested in their journey.

“Did you ever think they were into each other? Before Pangu came along and pointed it out?” Kira asked from his spot underneath a nearby tree. He probably was not supposed to be sitting in the little square patch of dirt and grass but Raine did not stop him or even give him a sideways look.

“Honestly?” Raine stepped closer and leaned against the tree. Some of the branches dipped down low and he took one of the blossoming buds from the closest branch and rolled it between his finger and thumb. In about a month’s time, all of the buds would open and the tree would be a bright pink spectacle. “I did not think about things like that at all. Not for myself and not for anyone.”

“No curiosity either?” Kira glanced up with a grin.

“Nope.” Raine chuckled and dropped his hand, not wanting to accidentally snap the bud off of the branch. “I assumed I would live the rest of my days alone and in service to the King.”

Kira understood that. Really, they had all been living in a similar way—at least a similar mind set. The only one of them who had any real relationship experience was Baiya and just barely. He had only taken up opportunities when they presented themselves, not gone looking for love. Before meeting each other, they had all been content in believing they would be alone for the rest of their lives.

If they kept on the topic for too long, Kira feared he would get sentimental so he changed direction. “How excited are you for this trip to the spirit realm?”

Raine pushed himself away from the tree with a big grin. “Beyond excited. I wonder what Undine will look like…”

“Probably blue,” Kira guessed and Raine laughed.

“Do you think they will be as cooperative as Sylph?” Raine asked more seriously.

“No idea.”  He shrugged. “It is hard to say how a spirit that has been locked away for thousands of years will react to suddenly being free. I, personally, would be grateful but then, also pissed off. Not at the person or people who freed me but I couldn’t promise I would be able to sort my feelings out well enough to care who I hurt upon release. You know?”

Kira looked to Raine and saw a frown slowly replacing his eager grin. He cringed to himself when he realized that was his doing.

“I mean, I am sure that will not be the case,” he attempted to walk his hypothetical back, “Look, I am sure spirits have a much more…balanced…mind. Undine will probably burst out from their seal and immediately bestow their gift on you. Then, you will be able to summon them and, I suppose, use water wherever. I don’t know exactly how that part works…”

Raine gave a breathy laugh and shook his head. “I guess we will just have to wait and see, right?” He offered his hand down to Kira.

With a firm grip, Kira was helped up to his feet at the same time King Raime walked out of the palace to greet them. Kira dusted off the back of his pants and took in the odd sight of the lord dressed in ceremonial armor and existing outside of his throne room.

“Ready to depart?” he asked the group and set his hands on his hips.

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

[greenforestflowers]

Ok so I recently read the Wolf hall books, and obviously the point was to present Cromwell as more sympathetic. SO can anyone explain to me why Hilary Mantel believed the best way to do that (when it came to Anne Boleyn’s adultery charges) was to have the reason he framed those specific men be because they made fun of Wolsey. That is the coldest, pettiest shit I’ve ever heard

You’d think (and to be clear, I’m not trying to excuse what he did) that the actual political reasons behind why he made those choices are at least more comprehensible than someone willingly murdering people for something so trivial? Like, it wasn’t unique to Cromwell, many people got rid of their enemies at court by taking advantage of situations or framing them. Again, I’m not saying this makes what he did right or acceptable in any way, but surely that is more explainable in context than:

‘yeah these guys dressed up and did a play which to me is worthy of a death sentence so now I’m going to have them killed, something I‘ve been plotting to do ever since it happened this is literally my only motive behind accusing them’

Like??? For gods sake Hilary that is so much worse

#why is her Cromwell so boring? #if you’re not really gonna touch on his political actions #either good or bad #you’d think she’d try and get his personality right #to make up for it #but no #he’s introverted quiet and reserved #the real Cromwell? definitely extroverted and talkative #had many friends #and #i wonder how much of the books were her genuine take on what Cromwell thought #and how much is just Hilary forcing her opinions upon him #like Catholics are presented terribly and Cromwell obviously did persecute them #but he had friends from both sides of the religious divide #neither of the above two things are mentioned #funny that #Cromwell #Thomas Cromwell #the Tudors #anti wolf hall #anti Hilary Mantel #tudors #cromwell

[blackswaneuroparedux]

For the virtuoso, musical works are in fact nothing but tragic and moving materializations of his emotions; he is called upon to make them speak, weep, sing and sigh, to recreate them in accordance with his own consciousness. In this way he, like the composer, is a creator, for he must have within himself those passions that he wishes to bring so intensely to life.

- Franz Lizst

Franz Lizst was the rock star of his day. He had long lustrous hair, he smoked, he drank, he fell in love with glamorous women, and he wowed his audiences with the brilliance of his athletic piano-playing: its strength, its feeling, its energy, its brilliance.

Franz Liszt was a complex man.  He was a member of the musical and social avant-garde of his time, thus thought nothing of living with women and having children without being married, yet he was a very religious man of traditional Catholicism.

How Liszt managed to account for his behavior within his strict religious views are a marvel. But there was always a priestly side to Liszt. Early in his life he had given serious thought to becoming a priest, only to cast aside the thought in favor of the life of a traveling piano virtuoso with everything that went with it. Liszt began drinking and smoking early in his life. No one really knows when his sexual exploits began, but if that was anything like the rest of his young life it started early too. All of the travel, cavorting, drinking and such finally caught up with Liszt and he retired from the concert platform in 1847 at the age of 35.  He had by this time left the mother of his three children, Countess Marie d'Agoult for another royal lady Princess Carolyne zu Sayn-Wittgenstein,the wife of a Russian Prince.  Both Liszt and the Princess wanted to marry, but the Princess' husband (not to mention the Pope himself) would not grant her a divorce. The two never did marry, and while Liszt remained involved with her until her death,  they no longer lived together after 1863 when Liszt began living in a small apartment near Rome.

When Liszt's son died in 1859 and his youngest daughter died in 1862, it had a profound affect on Liszt. He declared to his friends that he would live a solitary existence from then on. He took minor orders and was occasionally called the Abbé Liszt. From then on, he divided his time between Rome, Budapest and Wiemar and composed, taught and participated in music festivals.

#lizst #franz lizst #quote #music #pianist #piano #classical music #composer #virtuoso #culture #hungarian #icon

[soleilsuhh]

— nct 127 as types of housemates.

[✿] — TAEIL is the best-friend type of housemate; he’s so chill yet he’s so willing to get to know you and make you comfortable, although it might be a little awkward at first. the type to initiate a night-in where you just sit on the couch and talk about yourselves while eating dinner. always asks you how your day was. the type to bring his friends over for movie nights and introduce you to them and include you in future hang-outs. also the kind of housemate that willingly helps you with your work or projects. leaves you little notes around the house: “went to meet up with a friend. will be back around noon.” or “left you some breakfast. good luck with the test/interview today.”

[✿] — JOHNNY is the housemate that you hit it off with since day-one. the type that you can have the most fun, interesting, and effortless conversations with. the type to divide chores and is pretty responsible about his part and won’t hesitate to let you know if he thinks you’re slacking off on your side. he’s such a good listener; the kind of housemate that’ll patiently listen to your problems and help you solve them. he probably won’t bring a lot of friends over simply because he prefers to hang out outside. also extremely helpful with the household gadgets and other handy works around the house, like changing the light bulb. you have a guilty-pleasure tv show that you watch religiously every weekend and no one knows about it — it’s your little thing.

[✿] — TAEYONG is the ‘mom-friend’ type of housemate. he’s basically your family away from home. he’s friendly but also really respects your boundaries and space so he takes his time getting to know you and understand you. your new emotional support system. always there to hype you up. the type that occasionally makes a pretty big dinner for you both just for the heck of it. he’s so considerate and always thinks of you; the type to go ahead and make a sandwich for you too when he’s making one for himself. also protective in a sense that he’ll lowkey get worried and send you a text or two if you’re out later than you usually are — only to a certain extent though; it won’t be overbearing or anything. 

[✿] — YUTA is the housemate that you find intimidating at first but he gradually becomes your emergency contact and confidant. he values his privacy so it’s not uncommon for him to spend a lot of his time in his room when at home but he also loves to have fun so he initiates night-outs. also movie-nights; so many of them. loves to talk the night away but that won’t be too frequent, although every time it happens, you have the most interesting and insightful talks. will directly call you out if you don’t pay your portion of the rent on time or if you leave your dirty dishes on the sink. also lowkey becomes your bodyguard; offers to pick you up or walk home with you at night.

[✿] — DOYOUNG is the dependable type of housemate. he doesn’t mind taking care of the household bills and keeping the house clean; will let you know the house rules from day-one and act all strict about them but actually a softie and lets you get away with breaking them most of the times. you will never run out of toilet paper and will probably get at least a week’s notice before having someone over. when you come back home from a drunken night, he gets you a glass of water and helps you to bed. depending on how close you are, he might even start nagging a little. has a habit of telling you to ‘be careful’ whenever you go out. reminds you to take the umbrella if it looks like it’s going to rain later.

[✿] — JAEHYUN is the type that makes you wonder ‘is he even home enough to be considered a housemate’ or ‘does he even have a life outside of this place?’ no in-between. kinda has this ‘you do what you want and i’ll do what i want’ attitude; usually minds his own business and is generally nice and helpful. very tolerant and easy-going, and won’t mind if you ask him to lower his music. your house/apartment probably won’t be the tidiest BUT you both tend to go on these random cleaning tangents where you clean the whole place together, which is surprisingly one of your ways of bonding with each other. he’s also the type to call you and ask you to check if he has left the wallet on the counter. 

[✿] — JUNGWOO is a sweet and fun housemate, like there’s never a dull moment around him. the type that won’t mind doing the grocery shopping or even lending some money if you need it. always texts you about roommate stuffs, ‘did i leave the stove on?’ ‘i’m at the convenience store; anything you want me to pick up?’ lots of yelling at each other from across the apartment or from each other’s rooms as a way of communicating. almost always texts or calls you to let you know ahead if he’s going to be back home late. will try to set you up with potential boos or on blind dates.

[✿] — MARK is the type of housemate who always seems busy and has a lot of things going on for him. you might be a little intimidated at first because he always seems so focused with his work but as soon as you talk to him, you’re like oh nevermind, he’s such a wholesome dork. he doesn’t seem like it but he notices the little things around the house; compiles extensive shopping list and give it to you so that you can do the grocery shopping — might tag along sometimes. reminds you that you have to pay rent soon, just in case you forget but then ends up forgetting it himself. he also has so many friends but gives you heads-up if they’re coming over. 

[✿] — HAECHAN is the type of housemate that is kind of a mess yet also somehow does so effortlessly well at school/work. makes you question his sleeping habits a little; stays up late at night, playing games and ends up yelling out curses in frustration suddenly and you have to go and tell him he’s going to wake the neighbors or that you’re trying to sleep. more than once, he accidentally slams doors at 3 AM and then apologizes loudly. you will probably bicker and argue at least once a day but it’s mostly over stupid things like who ate the last bag of chips. observant and notices immediately if you’ve had a bad day; best shoulder to cry on. playing board games on your bed then ending up falling asleep together.

[✿] — MASTERLIST.

#nct #nct 127 #nct reactions #nct 127 reactions #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct headcanons #nct 127 headcanons #nct x reader #nct x you #taeil #taeyong #yuta #yuta nakamoto #johnny suh #nct johnny #doyoung #nct doyoung #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jungwoo #mark lee #nct mark #haechan #lee donghyuk

[detectives-of-willborne-if]

800 word drabbles (Abel X F!MC: Rain)

@ignoramus-if ! I have your baby and my baby written out! Hope I got your character's personality right! I love them so much! Thank you, I had so much fun writing them together!

Cupid really did it this time. Bewitched, enchanted, captivated, mesmerized, charmed, enraptured, enthralled, in love--there weren't enough words to describe Abel Martin's feelings.

Rain Xiao; the prettiest girl in school and in his eyes. Everything about her is perfect from the way she smiles to the way she snorts. She has almost everyone wrapped around her small fingers, him included much he could admit. She had him long before they started talking to one another, long before they can even call each other friends.

With her, Abel became unsure and unassertive, different from how he usually was. Was love supposed to do that? He thought that love was supposed to make one stronger but it only rendered him weak, and helpless. If he was Superman, she would be his kryptonite, though this kryptonite leaves him giddy and his heart fluttering.

As their relationship evolved, he can't help but be hopeful that his longtime one-sided crush can blossom, but at the same time, he can't help not expecting anything in the end. He is fine the way things are, it had taken a long time for their relationship to reach this stage, he doesn't wish to ruin it with his overwhelming feelings, just being next to her is just fine for him, watching her be happy is fine even is not with him...he doesn't wish to think more of it.

Abel had sat behind Rain for years even though she never noticed him, but it was fine since it was just a school crush that he would soon outgrow, but it didn't. They had grown closer and his feeling grew to love.

"Abel," his ears exaggeratedly compared the voice that had sing out his name with a divine angel; sacred and beautiful. Oh, how he can get lost in the--- "Abel!"

"You seem out of it. You alright?" Rain looks at him, concerned as she snaps her fingers at him.

Abel paused, rigid before he stutters "I-I'm fine!"

"I'm just...confused at this part." He quickly points at the Algebra problem from his book. He quietly sighs in relief that he was able to come up with an excuse from his blissful ignorant daydreams.

Rain grins, clapping her hands together, "the solution is quite easy, you just need to divide these two and simplify it and---" As she heads closer to him, Abel's breath hitches and for a moment he almost forgets how to breathe.

Everything was magnified, he can see how long her curly fluttering lashes are, how her olive skin was clear of blemishes, her short dark hair was just like a bundle of fluffy clouds, her brown eyes were the color of swirling hot coffee, bitter but energizing,  her lips...reddish-pink from her favorite cherry chapstick, he wonders if her lips taste the same as her---"Did you get that, Abel?"

"What?"

"The question, Abel."

"...Question?"

"Were you not listening to me? I've been talking for at least a year to explain this!" Rain narrowed her eyes.

Abel spluttered, his hand waved in a spastic motion, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to--"

Rain laughs, waving her hand nonchalantly. "Relax, I was just messing with you," she plops her chin in her hands as she fixates her gaze at the boy," tell me what is in your mind to make you this...attentive."

His dark skin flushes, recalling his thoughts in those short moments ago. He fixes the frame of his glasses nervously in hopes he can hide his blooming cheeks from his crush but what he did cause the opposite effect.

"Oh..." The girl smiles mischievously as she pokes his cheeks playfully, "you're blushing!"

"I-I'm not!"

"It must be something naughty," she jokes, her eyes crinkle in mischievous mirth.

Abel froze not meeting her gaze, finding the lint in his pants much more interesting than their conversation.

Rain pauses, her mouth hangs wide. "OMG! Get out of here! I was just kidding, now I need to know! Now, spill it, Martin!"

"I wasn't!" Abel exclaims loudly which caught the librarian's attention who then shushes him. He lowered his head as mutters a small apology in their way before re-focusing on the girl," it's just...hot."

Rain raises her brow with her arms crossed, "the library is air-conditioned," she points out.

Silence ensues between the two before Abel breaks it, "I'll buy you coffee if you don't ask any more questions."

"Are you buying my silence with coffee?" Abel nods, his amber eyes point at her, "how sly of you, it is working."

"Just with that?"

She grins, "I'm a simple woman with simple taste." Though Abel begs to differ. Everything about her is complicated, he could never figure her out. She is a surprise--sometimes wonderful and other times horrifying but he can't help but love her anyway.

Her smiles were his salvation, they bring him straight to heaven, though Abel is not much religious, he can't help but pray when they are near Rain since his heart rumbles a thunderstorm every time both their eyes meet.  And when their skin makes contact, may God help him.

#Abe #Abel #Abe can't study properly cause of MC #he's gonna fail Algebra #No one can help him now #drabble #abe’s eyes are now amber goodbye

[possiamo-andare]

Just You (1)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.1k

summary: A new girl moves to OBX and a love triangle ensues. Your usual yearning, fluff writing :)

a/n: gosh, it has been too long. university has me swamped but since it’s the holiday break, i will try and update as much as i can. as of rn my other fic, sweeter, is on hold, while i try to write more and get back into the groove of things :) love y’all <3 

~

Many people do not care to know the difference between new and old money. To the working class, new and old money were relatively the same. To some extent, that was true. People that had either new or old money were rich nonetheless but when you grew up rich like Rafe Cameron did, the difference was all that mattered.

The main difference was how the money was procured. Old money was passed down. No one from old money had to work since they were born rich. Their manners were taught at a young age. New money meant that they had worked for what they had. At some point, they were not rich and now they were. They were not as defined and they had to be taught, at an older age, how to act. Rafe’s mother used to say you could see who was from old and new money from their ties. If it was a man, their ties would be neutral colours, nothing flashy. People from new money usually had something to prove and so they would buy extravagant things. For women, it was their heels. Women from old money had small heels that were polished as well. Women from new money had tall heels and they had never learned that they should polish the heel along with the shoe.

Growing up as someone from old money, Rafe had normalized that there was a divide between the rich people in Figure 8. Of course, there was a divide between the Pogues and the Kooks but that divide was course and palpable. This divide was subdued and rarely ever spoken about. Kooks that came from old money lived on the west side of Figure 8 while the Kooks from new money resided on the east. This unspoken rule proved to be useful since the two groups of rich snobs never liked to speak to each other anyways. This rule had been in place years before Rafe was even born and he had thought it would still be there even after he died. That is, until Y/N moved in down the street.

It was at the beginning of June when she moved in. The first sign that things would end terribly was when her family pulled into the parking lot. Her mother drove a beat up blue Camaro while her father trailed behind in a black motorcycle. Most people that lived on the west side of the island didn’t have flashy cars but they were well maintained and not so loud. Everyone knew they were from new money before they even exited their cars. And when they did, it was confirmed these people had just become wealthy.

Rafe’s family, like most on the street, watched from their windows as a tall, burly man with a long black beard and sunglasses opened the truck of his wife’s car and carried two large bags in the door. His two sons, both similar in size and features, followed after him. They carried two pink suitcases inside as the man’s daughter and wife stayed outside to open their garage.

Rafe’s eyes glanced over their house. It was one of the bigger houses on the block but it looked more like a huge cottage than anything else. His mind went to the thought of hippies invading their neighbourhood. He gulped. If they were some type of laid back, motorcycling hippies, he’d go crazy for sure. He knew Sarah would love them though; she always complained about how boring their neighbourhood was. But boring meant normal and that’s what Rafe wanted.

As his mother gossiped on the phone, Rafe watched the mother and the daughter laugh together. The mother looked like a hippie. Her hair was tied up on the top of her head and it had clearly not been brushed. She wore a light green skirt that reached to her ankles which then led to the flip flops that she wore. A white t-shirt was tucked into her skirt and she had big bracelets of all different colours dangling off her wrists. The daughter’s style was similar to her mother’s. She wore pink bootcut jeans and a white crop top, black chunky platform boots pulling the look together. Her hair was different from her mothers and was let down to blow in the breeze. They all looked like polar opposites from everyone else living in Figure 8.

At first, Rafe could care less about the girl or her family across the street. Granted, he would religiously watch through the window for when she would come outside to ride her bike around the neighbourhood with her brothers, and yes, he would sometimes wait until she was outside for him to take out the trash but he didn’t like her. If anything, it was the opposite. Rafe was too good for her. At least, that’s what he led himself to believe.

The first time he spoke to her was two weeks after she moved in. His mother had told him to stay away from Y/N’s family and Rafe had done an amazing job at doing so. Unfortunately, that all stopped when he had to pick Sarah up from school. She had thrown up in the middle of one of her classes and since both his mother and father were at work, the responsibility was on Rafe to pick Sarah up and make sure she was okay. Although reluctant to go back to his old highschool, Rafe knew he’d be in trouble if he was late in picking up his sister. When he entered the school's administration office, he finally came face to face with the girl he had been watching for two weeks now. Except, her back was turned to him as she argued with the secretary.

“That’s what you call a vegetarian dish?” Y/N raised her voice, not particularly enjoying being ignored by the school administration. When she first had come to this school, she had checked off on her form that she needed vegetarian dishes for lunch. Now, everyday since she had come, they had served her horribly chopped up lettuce with vinegar.

“Miss -” Ms. Buzden said, placing her phone on hold. It was the student’s lunch break so she usually called her sister during this time but Y/N was keeping her from doing so.

“Y/N.” Y/N smiled, finally happy she had caught the woman’s attention.

Ms. Buzden rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. “Y/N, dear, if you have a problem with lunch, please take it up with the lunch ladies.”

Y/N sighed, leaning against the secretary’s desk. “I tried to, Beth, but she told me to come here. I will not be ignored.”

Rafe was almost as surprised as Ms. Buzden was when Y/N used her first name. As he stood behind Y/N, waiting for his turn to ask where Sarah was so he could sign her out, he watched in slight amusement at the fact she was nonchalantly complaining to the secretary.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you dear.” Ms. Buzden forced a smile, finally looking over Y/N’s shoulder to Rafe. “Rafe, sweetie, you’re here to sign out Sarah?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, knowing Y/N’s eyes were on his. He felt as if an imaginary spotlight had shown on him for a solo and he had forgotten the words. His eyes glanced toward Y/N for a moment but it did not help his stage fright. Her beautiful eyes were squinting in his direction and for a moment he thought he would faint underneath her stare. His eyes quickly returned to the secretary’s and nodded quickly. In an embarrassing turn of events, Y/N spoke before Rafe did.

“Hey, I know you.” Y/N’s bracelets clang together as she lifts her hand up and points at Rafe. “You’re my neighbour. You’re always watching me through your window.”

As the secretary busies herself with printing the paperwork, Rafe busies himself by stuttering and gasping for breath at the accusation she had just posed. In an attempt to save himself from anymore embarrassment, Rafe tries and fails at coming up with a good excuse. Instead, he denies the accusation entirely.

“I do not watch you.” Rafe stubbornly blubbers out. He’s trying not to seem so embarrassed but she’s caught him so off guard that there’s nothing else he can do.

Y/N snickers, watching the poor boy stumble on every word. For someone older than her, he was not very mature. “No, you’re right. Watching would imply a causal aspect to the activity. More like you stalk me.”

This time, Rafe boiled over with anger. How dare this girl accuse him of stalking her? Rafe did not chase after any girl, no matter how attractive she was. “That’s a bit arrogant, isn’t it? To think everyone’s eyes are on you?”

Y/N continued to smile, unbothered by Rafe’s obvious rudeness. She shrugs, looking back to the secretary for a moment and grabbing her terrible vegetarian lunch before looking back to Rafe. “Not everyone’s. Just yours.”

And with that, she leaves the office. And Rafe knows he is screwed, because he just met the love of his life.

~

JJ Maybank shared almost everything with his friends. Emphasis on almost. They had always relied on him to be the funny one. To always goof around and take nothing seriously. So, when his dad first started beating after his mother left, he said nothing. He felt it was an unnecessary burden to put on the people that truly loved him. Eventually, the bruises and scars were too overwhelming to keep a secret anymore and he began to confess all his issues to his friends. But even then, as JJ tried to open up to the people he cared the most about, there was one thing he could never share.

He was scared of love.

Not just any love, but specifically romantic love. Every time he felt himself begin to develop deep feelings for anyone, he soon backpedaled and left them hanging. It was too scary to give himself to anyone. It would be a lie if he said it had nothing to do with his mother leaving. He had always believed that there was no love greater than his parents when he was growing up and when his mother left, it shattered him. Of course, he never blamed her for leaving considering how abusive his dad was but it killed JJ to know she did not want him to come with her. He had begun to believe that she didn’t think he was important to bring along. He believed that if she truly loved him, she wouldn’t leave without him. That’s what scared him the most; the fact that someone can change their mind about love so quickly.

So, JJ ran at the first sign of love. And he never shared this with anyone. Until that day.

In early June, when Y/N had first moved to OBX, there was a Start of Summer Fair. Right after classes ended on the last day of school, people in the community organized a fair for everyone who was excited for the summer to start. It was exactly two weeks after Y/N had moved in. Exactly two hours after she spoke to Rafe. Funny how the world works.

Behind the fair, there was a small lake where rarely anyone ventured. It was usually muddy and no one in their right mind would go swimming there. With that being said, JJ wanted to go swimming there. He had spent a solid hour with his friends at the fair before becoming exhausted. It wasn’t so much that his friends were exhausting him but a girl named Anna was. He had gone out with her once and had never called her back (as per usual) but she had not picked up on the hidden messages JJ had given her. Instead, she followed him around during his entire time at the fair like a little lost puppy dog. Just as she announced she was going to the bathroom, JJ had almost died from boredom. Thankfully, her going to the bathroom let JJ slip away from his friends and sneak away from Anna.

“What do you want us to tell her?” Kie asked, watching as her best friend was breaking off from the group.

JJ shrugged, not possibly being able to care less. “I don’t care. For all I care, tell her I died.” A bit harsh, yes, but that’s how JJ operated. Abandon them before they abandon you.

The idea to hide near the lake hit him as soon as he left his friends. No one went back there, not if they wanted an infection. Although slightly disgusting, if that was what he had to do to get away and have a moment of peace, he would make that sacrifice. Unfortunately, he found no peace because the second the lake came into view between two thick trees, JJ saw a girl in the water. At first, he was going to leave, maybe even shout a quick joke her way for getting in the dirty water. But when he saw what she was doing, he became curious and couldn’t help but venture forward and investigate.

Y/N, too invested in what she was currently doing, did not see JJ approaching at first. Daisies had begun to grow around the lake, which was already odd on it’s own, but some of them floated on the surface level of the lake. Y/N thought a bunch of Daisies would be a good surprise for her mother so, in an effort to be thoughtful, she emerged herself, from the waist down, into the water. She was not afraid of the muddy water staining her white dress (she had worse stains on her clothes), even excited to show her mother the lengths she went to to get the Daisies. So, with one hand, she held onto a wicker basket full of Daisies and with the other hand, she grabbed a hold of the daisies in the water.

JJ watched in complete and utter fascination as this girl who he did not recognize, fearlessly went into the lake and plucked some Daisies to put in her basket. She almost didn’t even look real. He blinked quickly to make sure she was even actually there. When he opened his eyes and she was still there, he was glad he hadn’t imagined her.

Finally, Y/N sensed a presence that was not her own. Quickly turning to her right, she made eye contact with JJ and her face softened. He was the least threatening person she’d ever seen and something about him made her heartbeat pick up.

She brushed this feeling off and instead, with a small smile on her lips, spoke confidently. “Hello stalker.”

JJ blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a few steps closer to the lake. “I’m sorry. Was just wondering what you’re doing here. No one comes here.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Y/N quips backs, a playfulness in her voice.

JJ thinks he might faint. “Um, well, I’m hiding.”

Y/N giggled. “Me too actually.” She grabs more daisies and puts them in her basket. She looks back up at JJ and speaks to him again. “Who are you hiding from?”

JJ gulps. He doesn’t want to scare away this girl by telling her why he’s come back here. He knows anyone else would judge him but, as he looks at her, he can see she would never judge him. “I’m hiding from a girl.”

Y/N nods, not expressing any disgust and JJ’s heart jumps for joy. “I see. Ex-lover, I presume?”

JJ shrugs. “We only went on one date.”

“Must’ve been a terrible date.” She jokes, and JJ realizes that she’s completely stopped what she’s been doing to listen to him.

JJ shakes his head, focused on her cute round cheeks. “Not really. She was nice.”

Y/N pouts. “Then why are you hiding from her?”

JJ feels as though it is too complicated to explain. And besides, how would he start? He’s never told anyone why he truly has never had a girlfriend. But something about this girl makes him trust her completely. He knows it’s the arrogance in her eyes. “I’m scared.”

Y/N nods, as if she understands him completely and he feels as though she does. “I see. You know, when I get irrationally anxious over something like this, I play the What If game.”

JJ’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

Y/N moves through the water and closer to the edge where JJ stands. When she arrives at the water’s edge, she reaches her hand out for JJ to grasp. He hesitates first and knows it’s because he likes her so much already and this will be the first time they will touch. The first time he’ll feel her skin against his is beside this muddy lake. Eventually, he grabs her hand and helps her out of the water and he knows, the second his hand touches hers, she’s his dream girl. His hands are on fire and he feels a pit in his stomach grow as her hand grips tighter onto him. There’s a spark and he’s sure there has never been anyone else that made him feel this way.

“The What If game,” Y/N starts, placing her basket on the ground. She starts to ring out the water from her dress but continues to keep eye contact with JJ. “is really easy. Here; tell me a fear you have about falling in love but make sure it starts with ‘what if.’”

JJ thinks for a moment. There are so many and he doesn’t know where to start. Finally, he chooses his biggest fear. “What if she leaves?”

Y/N smiles. “What if she doesn’t though? But, what if she does and then you find who you’re actually supposed to be with? The game is to just rationalize every irrational fear.”

JJ nods, a small smirk growing at the corner of his lips. “You’re not one of those girls who believes every breakup brings you closer to your soulmate?”

Y/N laughs. “Yeah, I wish. I’m not your manic pixie dream girl - wait, what's your name?”

JJ extends his hand, ready to feel her skin again. “JJ Maybank. Yours?”

Y/N smiles and shakes JJ’s hand. This should be interesting, she thinks. “It’s Y/N.”

“So, Y/N,” JJ starts, her name feeling good coming from his mouth. “If you’re not my manic pixie dream girl, then what are you?”

Y/N smiles. She was right. This is definitely going to be interesting. “I’m just yours.”

~

tagging; @tovvaa​

#jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank fanfic #Outer Banks #pope outer banks #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks #obx #obx imagine #jj obx #obx rp #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron

[toastedkiwi]

Wrong Cards

Summary: on a fateful day, Chris meets you.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Teen!Reader

Warning: angsty, death, gun violence, blood, shitty childhood.

You haven’t had the easiest life. In all your 14 years on this earth, it’s been hell. You’ve been on the streets. You’ve been moved around all over the country and put into homes only to be shooed away. It became very apparent that nobody wanted you or cared. Not even teachers. You’ve dealt with abuse, bullying, pretty much any nasty thing that a kid shouldn’t have to deal with. A kid should be loved and wanted and taken care of but it seemed like you ended up with the short straw way too many times. Until you met Chris.

It was dark all around except for the parking lot light. You and Issac had gotten into a scuffle by these gangsters— wannabe gangsters. Punches were thrown along with threats. Then a gun went off. He was this 12 year old you met— he lost his home and his abusive parents. You were looking out for him. You had gotten in front of him and took the hits and beatings. But Issac took the bullet.

Chris heard your crying and calling out for help. He ran. He pulled out his phone and came around a truck to see the scene. Your hands are covered in blood as you’re doing chest compressions on your dying friend. He can tell that you’re way too young and Issac is way too young to be shot. You’re just kids.

“Help! Please!” You begged.

Chris dials 9-1-1 and presses call. He pulls off his scarf and gets on his knees. He puts his scarf over the wound that oozes blood. He holds it down with one hand while the other holds his phone and he already feels the warm blood soak through the fabric.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator asked.

“A- A kid’s been shot,” Chris said as calmly as he could for you. “He’s losing a lot of blood. You gotta hurry.”

“Where are you, sir? And is the shooter still around?”

Chris gives the street and said, “I don’t know. Probably.”

He’s told to stay on the line so he puts the phone on speaker and puts it on the ground. Chris can see that you’re struggling.

“Switch with me, kid,” Chris said.

You looked up at him with a quiver of the lip. You nod and it’s a quick switch. He’s doing chest compressions and you’re applying pressure to the wound.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

“I- I can’t tell y-you,” you said.

You both hear the sirens of the cop cars and the ambulance. He looks at you to see your own face has been beaten. Your bottom lip is slit and bleeding. You have a cut over your right eye brow and it’s also bleeding. Your cheek is starting to bruise already.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

You kept your mouth shut. The ambulance rolls into the parking lot following a cop car. The paramedics rushed over. The cops immediately asked where the shooter is and you pointed the way to them. They head off and the paramedics take over. Chris has to pull you away from Issac. More cops show up.

“No pulse,” one of the paramedics said. “Shocking to 200. —Clear.”

You clenched your jaw tightly as you watched them try to bring your friend back alive. A cop is trying to talk to you. You haven’t slept in days. You haven’t had a proper meal in months. You don’t even know what day it is. And you’re numb.

“He’s gone,” are the words that you hear.

You screamed and cried. Chris stops you. He can’t believe the situation he’s in at the moment. He doesn’t know you at all. He doesn’t know the kid that’s dead on the wet asphalt of the parking lot. He just wraps his arms around you. You fight against him but you’re weak. You’re not that strong and Chris is an adult who religiously works out.

“Stop, stop,” Chris said. “He’s gone.”

You cried harder and managed to put all your strength into clutching onto Chris. He’s keeping you on your feet. If he wasn’t holding you, you’d be running till you have to stop and then you might be dead somewhere else.

~~~~~next day

“Y/n, you’ve got a visitor,” Andrew, a nurse, said coming into the room.

Chris Evans followed behind with a giant gift bag. You recognize him from last night. The one person who came when you called for help.

“Hey,” Chris said coming into the room. “I got you something.”

You’re left alone with the actor. He places the bag in your lap. You’re very confused. You’ve never have been given anything in these 14 plus years on this earth. It’s a first.

“Why?” You asked.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and faces you.

“Just open it,” he said.

You squinted at him. He grabs the pink tissue paper and tosses it behind himself.

“There,” Chris said. “Now, you pull out what I got for you.”

You pull out this LEGO set and Chris pulls away the now empty bag. You look at the front. It’s the Super Hero Airport Battle with Captain America, the Winter Soldier, Scarlet Witch, Iron Man, War Machine, and Antman.

“Why are they fighting?” You asked. “Superheroes don’t fight each other.”

“You haven’t seen the movie?” He asked.

You shook your head no and said, “I’ve only seen Iron Man 3.”

“Really?” He asked surprised. “Just Iron Man 3?”

“Yeah. That was when I had parents that wanted me,” you said and you looked back at the box of legos.

“What happened?” Chris asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“They’re dead like Issac,” you said. “They died in a fire. The house burnt down.”

“That sucks,” Chris said looking at you.

“I know,” you said. “Now, you didn’t answer my question. Why are they fighting?”

“There’s this document called the Sokovia Accords. All these countries wanted all the superheroes to sign them,” Chris started telling you. “And make the superheroes liable for their mistakes. The governments of the countries wanted to tell the heroes where they can go help and where they can’t even if people need help.”

“That’s stupid,” you said.

“Right. It’s pretty stupid. So, Iron Man, War Machine, and a few other Avengers signed the accords but Captain America was like, ‘fuck that.’ And so the Avengers were split,” Chris said. “They had one team— Team Cap, obviously the best team and they had another one- Team Iron Man.”

“Who wins?” You asked.

“Nobody. They’re divided,” he said simply.

“All because of the government?” You asked.

“Pretty much,” Chris said.

“Thats fucked up,” you said.

“Language,” he said.

“That’s messed up!” You corrected sarcastically.

“Much better,” Chris said with a shit eating grin on his face. “Why don’t we get started on building the set?”

He pulls over the table. You sit yourself up crisscross even though there’s pain in your ribs and abdomen but you haven’t asked for any painkillers. Chris gets onto the bed more invading your space.

“Take off your shoes, you wild animal. Haven’t you learned anything?” You sassed.

He immediately takes off his shoes giving you this exaggerated annoyed look. He gets onto the bed and sits across from you crisscross. You try to pick off the tape. He lets you struggle trying to get open the box.

“What’s your favorite superhero?” Chris asked but he has a feeling that it’s Iron Man.

“Whoever can get the stupid ass box open,” you said putting the box on the table in between the two of you.

Chris chuckles and takes the box. He rips it open and tears the back wide open.

“There we go,” he said putting it on the table.

“That was obnoxious,” you said looking at him.

He just smiled cheekily. You just shook your head.

“Alright, lets get building,” Chris said rubbing his hands together.

“You sure you didn’t bring this so you could build it yourself?” You asked.

“Excuse me?! I’m helping you build it,” he said and mocked offense.

“Sure,” you said sarcastically and taking out the instruction book.

Chris rolled his eyes. He knows for a fact that he’ll come back tomorrow to visit you.

“What’s your favorite movie?” Chris asked.

“Iron Man 3,” you said opening bag one on the table.

“I know Iron Man,” he announced.

“Are you trying to impress me? Like I don’t get it. I don’t even understand why you’re here and why you’re in the bed across from me or why you’re trying to get to know me by asking questions,” you said. “Don’t you have something better to do instead of spending time with a stupid ass foster kid that nobody wants?”

“First of all, you aren’t stupid. You’re smarter than you think you are. Secondly, I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you,” Chris said.

“No, you don’t. You just feel bad for me,” you said.

“Honestly, yeah, I do feel bad—,” he said.

“Get out,” you said without hesitation.

“Let me finish,” Chris said.

“No! Get out!” You yelled pushing the legos off the table. “I don’t need you! I don’t need your fucking pity!”

“Y/n,” Chris said.

“GET OUT!” You screamed.

He sighs and slides off the bed. He grabs his shoes and quickly puts them on.

“GET OUT!” You yelled.

Chris finally leaves. Your jaw clenched tightly and tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Dude, you literally kicked out Captain America,” Andrew said shaking his head.

“Leave me alone!” You yelled.

~~~~~next day

Chris walks into the room with a fuzzy blanket, his iPad Pro, and a bag of snacks. The LEGO set is built and off to the side on the table. You’re so far in the bed on the edge that you might fall off. You’ve also been crying. Chris puts the things he brought on a chair except the giant fuzzy blanket. He covers you with the blanket. You looked at him with your eyes red and puffy.

“I told you to get out,” you said.

“That was yesterday,” Chris said grabbing the snacks and his iPad. “Today is a new day.”

He kicks off his shoes and puts the snacks in your lap. He gets into the bed. You try pushing him off. But he’s a 38 year old man. He plants himself right next to you laying on top of the blankets.

“I do feel bad. No kid should’ve seen another kid die or be shot, Y/n,” Chris said opening up his iPad. “I don’t know what else you’ve gone through but I know that it sucked for you and it’s unfair. You should be dealing with high school drama instead but you got dealt the wrong cards, kid. It’s not fair at all.”

He looks at you to find that you have this frustrated look on your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. He puts his arm around you and pulls you into his side. You bury your face into his side and shut your eyes closed tightly. You choked out a sob. His other arm wraps around you and he holds you tightly as you cry.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he said softly. “You’ll make it through all of this.”

You continued to cry and Chris did his best to soothe and console you. He honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just knows he’s gotta protect you.

“Let’s watch a movie,” Chris said as you calmed down a bit.

“W-What movie?” You asked quietly.

“I was thinking Iron Man 1,” Chris said opening his iPad back up.

“You- you have it?” You asked with your eyes lighting up.

“Yup,” he said nodding.

He opened up the collection of movies he houses on the iPad. He scrolls through until he finds it. He taps on it and plays the movie. He looks to see that you’re already entranced. It brings a smile to his face and he turns his focus back on the screen.

The two of you crashed as the credits of Iron Man 2 rolled on the screen.

“Would it be alright if I adopted you?” Chris asked when you two woke up from your impromptu nap.

“Don’t be saying shit like that if you don’t mean it,” you said immediately sitting up and looking at the actor.

“I mean it, Y/n. You don’t have to be dealing with terrible foster parents or being homeless cause it’s better than the other places you’ve been. I got room in my house,” Chris said sitting up. “I got air conditioning.”

“You’re- you’re lying. You don’t want me,” you cried.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You tried your hardest to fight against his hold but he doesn’t budge.

“When have I lied to you?” Chris asked as you cried into his shoulder. “Have I lied to you since we met?”

You shook your head no and he rubbed your back.

“Then I’m not lying now. I’d like to adopt you if you let me,” Chris said.

“O-Okay,” you sniffled.

Chris smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

~~~~few weeks later

You were first greeted by a very happy Dodger. He jumped on you which freaked you out and you tensed up looking at the dog warily.

“Dodger,” Chris said grabbing Dodger by his collar.

He gently pulls Dodger away and you went back outside. He looks over his shoulder to see you descend down the porch steps. He puts down your backpack that has all you have in it and he takes Dodger outside with him.

“Dodger is very excitable. He loves people,” Chris said sitting down beside you but giving enough space in between. “Sit, Dodger.”

Dodger sits down planting his ass on Chris’ foot. Chris chuckles and pets his furry friend. He makes sure that Dodger doesn’t do anything to you.

“You okay?” Chris asked looking at you.

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away. You sniffled and tried your hardest not to cry. Chris watches as you hold yourself with your arms wrapped around yourself.

“I- I don’t w-want to get attached to him or- or you,” you whimpered with your voice trembling.

Chris slides closer and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s okay to get attached, Y/n,” Chris said.

“B-But everyone dies!” You exclaimed looking at him with tears streaming down your cheeks. “My parents died. My sister died. My adoptive parents died. Issac is dead! He died right in front of me. Everyone I get attached to dies, Chris. You’re just gonna be one of them.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not immortal and neither is Dodger and neither are you. Death is inevitable and you’ve dealt with it a lot. The world hasn’t been kind to you,” he said running his fingers through your hair. “You’ve lost so many people and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Y-you don’t know that,” you said.

“You’re right. I don’t but it would be a dick move on the world’s part,” Chris said.

You let out a small laugh as he pulled you into his side more. Your arms wrapped around his torso.

“C’mon, let’s go inside,” he said.

You nodded but you don’t move. He chuckles. He stays put for a little longer and holds you.

#chris evans x female reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans x y/n #chris evans oneshot #chris evans angst #chris evans x teen!reader #angst #ironman #iron man #marvel #chris evans fanfic #dad!chris evans x reader

[churchofcaine]

Storyteller advice: Combat and Movement

So you want to run a combat scene.

You’ve (probably) played other tabletop games and had a good time bludgeoning weird creatures to death. You’ve likely played VtMB and enjoyed the basic gunplay or even the janky melee combat. So you, as the young, naive storyteller crack open your (pre-V5) rule book and suddenly your head explodes with a migraine.

This is because the rules are scattered, the initiative system is crazy complicated, and there are a dozen maneuvers for melee and ranged combat. If you’re a veteran of tabletop games, you may look at some of the melee combat maneuvers and have some questions like “can people attack when grappling?” or “how does someone shoot a gun multiple times in one round?”

Well no worries, because I’m going to explain the combat system to you, why it is bad, and recommend some tweaks.

Combat by the numbers

Everyone involved in combat rolls 1d10+Dexterity+Wits to determine their initiative.

Starting from LOWEST initiative, each character declares what action they will take. You may ready an action to go off when another action occurs, such as dodging an attack.

Characters may move a distant of half of 20 + (dexterity x 3) yards in a turn and still attack.

Each character rolls their Dice Pools (Strength/Dexterity/Manipulation + Whatever) for their action.

If you’re making an attack, you roll Dexterity + Melee/Brawl/Firearms. If you’re doing a melee maneuver, you’re rolling Strength+Brawl generally. These are generally at difficulty 6, which means that a success occurs when your ten sided dice rolls a 6 or higher.

If you’re doing multiple actions you must split your dice pool. In Vampire 20th anniversary edition, this means you take the lowest dice pool of all your actions, and allocate dice to each action. For example, if you’re driving a car and shooting out a window, and your DEX+drive is 6, but your DEX+firearms is 4, you divide your 4 dice between driving and shooting.

If you hit, you roll damage. For melee, roll strength + your additional successes on the attack roll (you only need one success to hit). For guns, add their damage value + additional successes. Maneuvers may or may not do damage but will use the same pool as melee attacks if they do. Some damage may only allow you to roll your Fortitude. This is all at difficulty 6.

If you are hit, you roll to soak the damage. Roll your Stamina + Fortitude (if you have it).

Actions are resolved from the HIGHEST initiative order to the lowest, but all actions occur simultaneously.

Additional Celerity actions occur here.

Storyteller describes what happens dramatically.

The turn ends. Return to step 1.

Why this is a terrible system and you should never use it

There are THREE ROLLS involved for one person taking ONE mundane action. If you’re part of a 5 person group, that is a minimum of 15 rolls before you account for any opposition.

There are too many steps for one turn of combat. This can lead to an entire session being 2 or 3 turns of combat. Boring.

Damage is horribly inconsistent. If you roll a good attack roll, you could roll a terrible damage roll and not do anything. If you roll a good on attack and damage, it can be more damage than even an Elder can soak.

Initiative makes NO sense. The developers seemingly intended for players who did well on their initiative to have foreknowledge of the actions happening around them, but the ability to interfere with other actions is limited. If you go to tackle the guy trying to punch your dainty Toreador friend, he still gets to punch them since actions occur simultaneously.

It is unclear how disciplines can or cannot affect combat. For example, Dread Gaze reduces dice pools, but does it affect the dice pools of the goon shooting at your friend the turn you activate it? Does Shroud of Night increase the difficulty to hit if you’re higher in initiative than your attacker?

A variety of modifiers can change dicepools. Disciplines, firearm maneuvers, melee maneuvers, injuries, and circumstances can add or subtract dice. This can be very difficult to track in addition to figuring out WHEN each addition or subtraction applies.

Soaking is horribly inconsistent. I have been in games were Gangrels high in fortitude and stamina have gotten thrashed due to bad rolls. This more than anything makes players upset because they can never be sure if their “tanky” character is going to be put into Torpor from a bad roll.

Once you’re injured, you’re done. Injury reduces your dice pools, how fast you can move, and how many actions you can take. By default, you can heal only as much blood as you can spend in a round and cannot take any other action while doing so. Rules as written seem to imply injury penalties apply to soak dice as well.

Movement is both too complicated and too lenient. Even a character with 2 dice in dexterity can move 13 yards (39 feet/~12 meters) and attack someone. There is no tactical movement since every character can zip around all but the largest battle maps (If you use that). Injury reduces movement drastically, eventually giving slow static move speeds.

Splitting actions is a mess and never works out well. The game seems to assume everyone will split their dice pools and that’ll somehow balance the game since everyone is trying to dodge and attack. In practice, it’s best to roll your full dice pool on attack and overwhelm the person’s dodge. Celerity where you get either additional dexterity dice or actions, and you completely breaks the combat system by allowing multiple actions at full dice pools.

Recommendations for a more fun and dynamic combat

You do not have to take my ideas as gospel. Take what works for you and your friends, leave what doesn’t.

SOAK LEVELS: A vampire has a static soak rating of their Stamina + Fortitude and an aggravated soak rating of their fortitude. If damage is under half this rating, they take no damage. If it is over half they take 1 damage. If it is over their rating, they take the difference+1 in damage. This makes vampires reliably tough and eliminates an unneeded roll.

ENVIROMENTAL DAMAGE. The only time you should roll soak dice is when damage comes from an irregular source such as sunlight, fire, falling, or the rare electrocution.

TAKE THE INITIATIVE. Initiative is 1d6 added to your static rating in Dexterity and Wits. This makes initiative less swingy and eliminates ambiguity.

MY TURN ON THE TURN ORDER. The first turn in combat, characters declare their actions from LOWEST to highest. Then actions resolve from HIGHEST to lowest. You roll for the action on your turn and any effects are immediately applied. After this first turn, it goes dungeons and dragons style. Highest to lowest, effects immediately occur. Do not re roll initiative.

THROW OUT MOVEMENT. I personally do dramatic movement, where there are no set movement speeds and players move as the drama of the scene allows. Getting shot from a distance? Gonna take a turn or two to get there. See your friend getting beaten through a window? You can jump through the window and risk damage or take a turn to enter the house. Find what works for you and your trope.

LET THEM DEFEND. If a character doesn’t move, allow them the chance to dodge or block if circumstances allow.

INJURIES FOR DRAMA. Don’t religiously observe injury penalties. These should only kick in during significant fights and should be fairly applied. Injuries should never affect soak ratings

WE JUST WANNA SURVIVE. If someone wants to take an action while healing, default rules require a stamina and survival check. Ignore this. Use Willpower instead. Every Vampire has some dots in this, and it allows your thaumaturge some hope once he is hurt.

SPLIT THE DIFFERENCE. To take multiple actions, increase the difficulty of each subsequent action by 1 and reduce the dice pool of each action by the total number of actions being taken. If the dicepool is 0 or less, they cannot take that action. For example, if a character tries to jump a wall, trip a bad guy, and shoot him while he is down, the first action is Dexterity+Athletics-3 at difficulty 6. The second is Strength+Brawl-3 at difficulty 7. The third is Dexterity+Firearms-1 (+2 for shooting at someone prone) at difficulty 8.

GRAPPLING WITH MORALITY. Grapple and hold are two separate actions but have ill defined effects. Hold says they cannot attack and can only try to break the hold, but grapple doesn’t mention that but talks about it doing damage every turn. My recommendation is when you are grappling, whoever rolls higher on a Strength+Brawl does damage to the other and neither person can attack another target until they both stop grappling. Hold restrains a person until they break out, but neither the holder nor the person can take any physical action besides trying to escape

TAKE A BITE. Normally you can bite someone after tackling, grappling, or holding a person. This makes strength builds very one sided, where each turn they’re going to try to tackle and then do a Strength Aggravated damage bite. This is only worse if they also have Celerity and can bite entire rooms to death. Instead, only allow bites after a Hold is established, then another roll to Pin. This at least allows the person being held to escape. Instead a Kiss can be done during a grapple or tackle to drain blood.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #vampire #vampire rules #v20 #storytelling #anton the lasombra

[thewildscastarchive]

Leah Rilke // Season 1 Field Notes

Field Note #003 – Leah and Ian attend The East Bay Academy of art in Norther California. Their school mascot? “The Muses.” Not exactly intimidating, but that’s okay… The school doesn’t offer team sports anyway. (They do however have four different composting clubs.)

Field Note #006 – “Awesome Summer Mixx” is a compilation CD made for Leah in 2012 by her childhood friend Emily.

Field Note #017 – In 8th grade, Leah convinced her parents to sign her up for a weekend surf clinic in Half Moon Bay. She wasn’t interested in surfing – she just wanted to seem more appealing to her middle-school crush, Brandon P., a surfer boy who loved acoustic guitar and frequently brought his board to school. Leah retained only two pieces of information from that weekend: (a) that waves breaking sideways signal riptide conditions, and (b) that in surfer slang, the phrase “men in grey suits” means sharks.

Field Note #028 – Welcome To Fort Travis High School, approximately 2,900 students enrolled. Something to note: Dot, Shelby, Toni, and Martha attend public schools, whereas Leah, Fatin, Nora, and Rachel attend private schools. An even fifty-fifty split, representing both sides of the educational divide.

Field Note #038 – All of the girls except Dot are on social media, though Leah only posts Stories. Officially speaking, Fatin has the most followers (roughly 11k). However, Nora has a finsta where she posts drawings of birds wearing wings. This account has caught on in the art community, and actually tops Fatin’s by 57 followers.

Field Note #041 – The quarter is Leah’s. Jeff used it to scratch off an instant lotto ticket that they bought together. She’s been carrying the quarter with her ever since.

Field Note #045 – Leah has never seen any group challenges on any reality TV shows ever. She’s only marathoned vintage reality TV series with Ian after he found a box set of them in his aunt’s storage unit.

Field Note #061 – How each girls learned to swim: Martha took a class with her mom; Toni would sneak into her neighbor’s above-ground pool by night until she kind of just taught herself; Rachel and Nora had private lessons; Fatin’s grandparents had an infinity pool; Leah learned in Lake Tahoe at a family reunion; Dot went to the quarry; and Shelby’s dad threw her into the country club pool sink-or-swim style.

Field Note #065 – Leah’s more of a crossword puzzle person. She judges people who do Sudoku.

Field Note #071 – Leah’s pre-Jeff GPA: 3.7889. Leah’s post-Jeff GPA: 2.967 and sinking. Hearts and grades suffer together.

Field Note #082 – The Oxford English Dictionary defines deus ex machina as “A power, event, person, or thing that comes in the nick of time to solve a difficulty.” Leah first learned the definition from a “Helpful Literary Terms” handout given to her by Ms. Wolfe, her English teacher. The next term on the alphabetized handout? Dystopia.

Field Note #109 – To describe her after-school drink of choice, Martha says “pop,” which gives her away as a Midwesterner. Based on where they live, here’s a breakdown of how our girls refer to sugar carbonated beverages: Martha and Toni say “pop”; Rachel, Nora, Fatin, and Leah say “soda”; Shelby says “coke.”

Field Note #110 – Usually, if a goldfish frequently jumps out of its tank, it’s because there’s something unsuitable about the water – either it’s too dirty or too warm. But not in Leah’s case. Young Leah cleaned the tank religiously and kept the water at the recommended 70 degrees. So, either the fish had an adventurous spirit… or maybe it really did have some kind of subconscious death wish.

#the wilds #leah rilke #field notes

[highqueenofelfhame]

far away from sane - one

i’m going to preface this by saying that nobody has read this over so i don’t know if it’s good or if i just think it’s alright, who knows. only time will tell. I looked over this twice for grammar and editing and stuff but i’m sorry if i missed anything.  Thank you @starborn-faerie-queen  for your genius prayer to anneith. I owe you one. Not sure what the ‘one’ is but like certainly something let me know when you’d like to collect lmao.

TW: blood mostly. // 2435 words

Celaena had said it before, and she would likely say it again: the lying in wait before a job was the worst. Some people relished in it, seeing it as something religious almost. In fact, she knew a handful of assassins that worshipped their chosen deity in the moments before pouncing on their prey. Celaena wasn’t particularly religious herself. Too much had happened to her in her twenty four years to really believe that anyone up in the sky was looking out for anyone but themselves. Sometimes she felt like the sun was shining on her a little brighter than it did on other people. When she was a child, her mother had told her she was Mala blessed. She was not inclined to agree.

Still, when she slipped up the alley by the temple, she paused. A quick glance to her watch told her she still had an hour before she needed to be at the warehouse. An entire hour to kill, and what better way to spend her time than giving some old religious bastard a heart attack? She couldn’t think of anything, so she silently slipped through the front door of the small temple, splashed some holy water at the tapestry of the gods, and made her way toward the small confessional booth. 

Celaena settled inside on the uncomfortable, hideously upholstered bench and waited quietly. After seventy-two seconds, and just as she was about to leave and give up on spooking a foolish old man, the divider on the priest’s side of the partition slid open with a heinous screech that sent a shiver sprinting down her spine. Dim, warm light peppered over her lap through the grated holes of the window. Never too careful, Celaena adjusted her hood to be sure that ever defining feature about her was swallowed up in darkness. 

“Anneith, goddess of wisdom, we beseech you. Hear our prayer,” she recited, eyes looking to the little holes that separated her from the priest on the other side of the booth. A low, humming voice accompanied hers as she spoke and Celaena found herself slightly annoyed that he didn’t sound as ancient as she had hoped. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been… gods. If I’m being honest, like sixteen years since my last confession. I… I don’t know where to start, actually.” 

Celaena tapped her finger against her watch and made a mental note of the time while she contemplated what she should confess, exactly. It wasn’t like she had a shortage of sins, but if she came on too strong straight out the gate, it would be hard to slip out of the church and into the night unnoticed. She sighed heavily and looked back up at the partition as she twisted her mouth in thought. The holes in this particular confessional were too small to see even a hint of the man that sat on the other side of the booth. Good. That meant he couldn’t see her, either. 

“I haven’t been in one of these things since I was a kid. My mother and father would take me to temple and I would fall asleep leaning against my father and wake up when he lifted me into his arms after it was all over. Church happens so early in the morning for young minds, you know. You should consider pushing back the time.” When the priest said nothing, she huffed an impatient sigh. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure the last time that I was in here it was for shoving my cousin down the four steps that lead up to our front door because he’d taken my ice cream. If you ask me, he should have been the one repenting. He stole -- and from a little girl no less. But I was the one in trouble.” She snorted, giving him a moment to say anything at all but the man was made of stone and said nothing. “I’m here now because I have a long, long list of sins, father. Longer than anyone else that has been in this crumbling building. Well, that isn’t true. There is one man, I think, that would top me. But I doubt he’s ever stepped a single toe into a church, much less tried to atone for the things he’s done.”

Celaena glanced down at her watch again, then settled back against the chair and dropped the bomb to end all bombs: “I’ve been killing for as long as I can remember. Well,” she shrugged to herself, “since I was eight.”

“Killing?” The priest finally asked, a trace amount of surprise laced in his tone. 

“Animals. People. Animals first, because that’s how they train you. The people come second once your technique isn’t so shoddy. And if I say so myself, and I do, my technique has been flawless for the last ten years. There’s a learning curve, but, well, that isn’t why I’m here. I’m not here to brag about my perfect skill or about the secrets that I’ve heard whispered in the dark. I bet you’ve heard your fair share of secrets, haven’t you, father?” Celaena glanced down one more time, already working the door open slow enough that it wouldn’t make any noise. The man didn’t say anything, likely at a loss. Or maybe he was already calling the police on his cell phone. “Anyway, what do you think my penance would be?”

“For killing people?” He finally answered. Celaena smiled to herself as she opened the door enough to slip through.

“Yes,” she said, and then disappeared through the small opening she’d made and disappeared into the shadows of the church, then the shadows of the street. She wasn’t a complete maniac, she didn’t begin cackling as soon as she was out the door. Though she did wish more than anything that she had been able to see the look on the man’s face when she revealed such dark truths. Wished he had been able to see the smile pulling at her lips while she spilled her secrets to him in the dark. 

Instead she weaved up and down the streets and alleys, climbed onto roofs and hopped from building to building when they were close enough. She didn’t stop moving until she reached the warehouse that she knew the stupid fucks were hiding in. She could see all three of them sitting around a shitty metal table, taking turns throwing down cards. Celaena was too far to hear anything that they said beyond a low murmur of voices, not that it mattered. They had all signed their deaths away to her when they’d had whatever part in killing Sam. It was made worse by the fact that they sat around a table now, playing games mere days afterward. She had hardly been able to eat since his blood had been splattered across her face, and they were playing stupid card games? They could beg and plead all they wanted under her knife, but it didn’t matter. Every single one of them would cease to breathe in the next eight minutes or less. 

It hadn’t been hard to figure out which of the safe houses they would be at that week. The men of the Assassins Guild had never been smart. Smart enough to get away with murder, yes, but not smart enough to beat Celaena. They could call her a bitch all they wanted, but growing up with the lot of them she was always Arobynn’s favorite, always the most skilled assassin of them all. Arobynn had crowned himself the king of assassins, but Celaena had earned her title as the assassin queen, had fought for it in violent shades of red over the years. The student had become the teacher, and tonight she would school all of these idiots for thinking they could take Sam from her and get away with it. 

After waiting another two minutes, Tern and Harding both stood from the table and began their laps around the property. Mullin stayed seated, idly shuffling his cards while Celaena snuck inside and up behind him. With a simple flick of her wrist, her favorite daggers had extended into her hands, and moments later a blade was at his throat. The assassin queen didn’t bother with pleasantries, didn’t inconvenience herself by trying to go easy on the rat beneath her fingertips. She pressed the blade into his skin and fought off a grin when a bead of blood dripped down his flesh. 

“Which one of you did it?” Her other hand twisted into his oily hair as she pressed the blade harder against his neck. “Normally I wouldn’t give you any credit, Mullin, because you could never out run me. But since I was in a little bit of shock, whichever one of you did it had a few minutes time to get away. You can tell me who it was and I’ll consider letting you live, or I can slit your throat right now and let you bleed out before your friends get back.”

“They were your friends once, too,” Mullin grit out, to which Celaena snorted.

“None of you were ever my friends. I could counter your shitty argument with the same one, he was your friend, too. He still lived with you, for gods’ sake. And you or one of your nitwit friends shot him in the head like he didn’t matter. So, I will give you one more chance, Mullin. Which one of you stupid fucks ki—”

She was violently cut off by someone yanking her head back by her ponytail. While part of her wasn’t surprised that someone had found her, she also knew they had found her a little too soon. Their fifteen minute patrol hadn’t been nearly long enough. Neither of the men should have been back yet, but here she was with one at her back and two at her front. Mullin now held her dagger in his hand, the one she’d had at his neck but dropped from the surprise attack. Harding stood beside him, which left Tern  keeping her hands in a vice-like grip behind her back, his knife pressing into the throbbing pulse in her neck. 

Stupid. She had been so rutting stupid.

Her eyes slid to Harding, who was kneeling to open and rifle through a wooden crate beside the table. When he stood he was unravelling an iron-tipped cat-o-nine tails. She refused to give any of these bastards the satisfaction of being afraid, so she kept her jaw locked and her eyes clear. Mullin approached her, pulling two pairs of handcuffs from his pocket that he used to lock her arms behind her back. Just as she poised herself to bring her knees up into his groin, her feet were knocked out from beneath her and she was helpless to catch her fall. Instead, she ate the concrete, teeth singing as her chin knocked into the ground and blood pooling in her mouth because she bit her tongue on contact. Celaena spit in the direction of Mullin and Tern, her blood splattering across the ground. It didn’t take long for her to feel the warm stickiness of blood dribbling down her chin while one of them unzipped her suit from neck down to her waist. 

And then they began whipping her. And whipping her. And whipping her.

Until black seeped into her vision and threatened to pull her under. A set up. It had been a set up. Killing Sam had likely been part of that set up. Arobynn had been mad at her for leaving the guild and had killed Sam to make her angry. He knew she would be reckless and a little stupid after losing the one person that meant absolutely everything to her and he had been right. And now she was going to die face down on the floor of a dirty warehouse in the slums of Rifthold, in a pool of her own blood. Poetic. 

“Just leave her,” she registered someone saying, but she couldn’t tell which voice it was. Everything sounded the same with the loud ringing in her ears. Someone was kneeling down beside her, looking at her face but she was seeing double and couldn’t figure out who was who. 

The man’s head snapped up as she heard a second set of ringing that sounded an awful lot like sirens. 

“What the fuck? The cops?” Vaguely, she registered blue and red lights flashing in the windows,  clearly getting closer as the vibrancy became hard to look at in her state of distress. Footsteps ran away from her followed by a lot of shouting. Gods, she wished they would shut up. Her head was hurting, her tongue hurt from biting it when she’d been kicked to the ground earlier. As footsteps ran toward her this time, she tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the mind-numbing pain. 

Tried and failed, until someone was crouching beside here and a set of bright, livid green eyes was in her line of vision. 

“I’ve got her! We need a medic!” The man yelled over his shoulder, leaning down a little closer to her. Celeana’s eyes moved down to where his pinky finger had dipped into the edge of her blood pool. A hard shiver made her body begin to tremor and she realized just how cold this room had become since she’d first entered it. The man rose up a bit, ripping his coat off and draping it over her body. She wanted to scream at the pain, at the raw sensation the jacket rubbed into her mangled skin, but she didn’t. “Can you hear me?”

She blinked once for yes, unsure if he would understand her code until he said, “Yes? One blink for yes?” She blinked again in silent confirmation. Once, she had known this man’s name. The man with the silver hair and bright green eyes that had been tracking her like a hawk. He had always been close, but too far. Celaena had always been a few steps ahead. Now, bleeding out onto the cement she couldn’t even remember what letter his name started with. “Stay with me, Celaena. Stay with me.”

She tried. She really did. 

But the darkness encroaching the edges of her vision was a lullaby and with one final blink at the man, it dragged her down and sang her to sleep.

@starseternalnighttriumphant @highladyofthesith @scarznstars @court-of-glass @tintinnabulary @musicmaam @awkward-avocado-s @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @clockworkgraystairs @shyvioletcat @westofmoon @the-regal-warrior @ame233 @empire-of-wildfire @thewayshedreamed @singme-t0sleep @royalsqueeze @stupendousslimepeanutcroissant @katelynchang @damebadwolf @wingsway @i-love-all-books @musicdreamer003 @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @mu-si-ca-l @3am-reading @stardustsroses @booknerdproblems @prettygalsread @angelofmusic81 @sleeping-and-books @cool-ish-nerd @noodlecatposts @meltalgel-ig @fancysludgeshoelamp @greenbriaars @wifeofchrishemsworth @ccrtana @cityofsuns @rowaelin-fireheart @sunsummoner @spyofthenightcourt @joyceortiz13 @brokenbutnotquiting @emilyrose111294 @feyresarrow @tangledraysofsunshine @silvermindwarrior @superspiritfestival @maastrash @ashleyfroberg @cursebreaker29 @moondancer-204 @jesstargaryenqueen @januarystears @vasudharaghavan @city-of-fae @firedoorcinemaclub @rowaelin-cressworth @annejulianneh111 @blackjacks-donuts @crackedship @runawayrowan @that-other-pineapple @mynewdreamwasyou @highlordswhores @abookishfreak  @tottenhamboys20   @empress-ofbloodshed @morganofthewildfire @starborn-faerie-queen @b00kworm @musicdreamer003 @bamchickawowow @ireallyshouldsleeprn @booksofthemoon @ashlynn231 @mariamuses @sanakapoor @harrymoncheri @ladywitchling  @smalltddygothgf @booksbqueen​

#fafs #far away from sane #fafs1 #rowaelin #white collar au #celaena sardothien #aelin galathynius #mullin #tern #harding #assassins guild #writing #writeblr #tog #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #modern au #empire of storms #tower of down #kingdom of ash #sjm #sarah j maas

[fishoutofcamelot]

As requested by @vallirenwrites​, my theories as mentioned in my notes to the reblog of this post. 

The question: How did Uther commit genocide against a bunch of sorcerers and also literal dragons without dying 50 times over? 

It’s a valid question. If just one sorcerer could easily kill Uther, then how did he survive the height of the Purge when a whole community of sorcerers would conceivably be gunning for him at the same time? If one dragon can burn Camelot to the ground, then how could Uther have possibly fared against 100 of them?

Well, here’s one possibility: divide and conquer.

Many other people have mentioned, say, Balinor and Gaius in the notes of that post. It’s confirmed canonically that Balinor was tricked into helping Uther chain up Kilgharrah, and it wouldn’t be surprising if Gaius used his magic against his own people too. 

And that’s definitely on the right track. Uther could probably only subdue magic by relying on other magic users and then betraying them. We know for a fact that he did just that with both Nimueh and Balinor, albeit for different reasons. 

Many people, myself included, have theorized that the real reason Uther started the Purge was because magic is a threat to hierarchy. That is to say, letting poor people learn or at least have access to such a useful skill would equalize the power dynamics between nobility and peasantry. If a poor person has access to magic, they can resist authority. They can turn to magic for food and medicine and protection instead of relying on knights and kings. If they don’t like a king, it’s that much easier to depose the bastard. And if a peasant has magic while a noble doesn’t, then suddenly the peasant arguably has more power in that scenario. 

Long story short, magic is a logistical nightmare for authoritarianism.

Resource and education management within the lower class was, if not the main reason behind the Purge, then a very beneficial side effect.

As Gaius says in episode 1 when Merlin asks him about the Purge, magic users started getting bolder. Started, according to him, doing bad stuff with it. But remember that Gaius is a noble too, probably, or at the very least he’s very chummy with a lot of them. And we know he’s at least marginally sympathetic/supportive of Uther’s cause. With the stuff about nobles in mind, we must now analyze what he meant when he said that sorcerers were using their magic for evil and that the Purge was a necessary evil to curb their chaos. Maybe they were using their magic for evil - from the perspective of a frightened noble. 

So here’s how I think it happened:

Peasants started noticing that with magic on their side, they could rise up against oppressive nobles. They could start claiming some power and land for themselves. Maybe Camelot saw itself on the verge of a political revolution. 

Naturally, Uther and the other nobles started to sweat. What do we do about this? Well, if they’re using magic to educate and protect themselves, just take away the magic! 

I don’t think it started with a snap-and-turn illegalization of magic. A dramatic law hammering the country in an instant like that would have seen a lot more criticism and resistance. But if it happened gradually, over time, then what begins as a few restrictive policies on magic use might eventually slippery-slope into wholesale genocide. 

Some nobles have magic. But even they have a vested interest in this new campaign to restrict magic from the poor. Letting poor people use magic puts them on equal footing after all, and those magic-using nobles are still nobles after all. Best to keep magic with those who deserve it - that is to say, rich people.

Uther has their support now. He uses the help of nobles and their magic to enforce and subjugate poorer magic users. Maybe they use the Gean Canagh to steal magic from a few of their more outspoken rebels. Maybe they use magic restraints of some kind, but whether those canonically exist remains unknown.

First, a sales tax is imposed on all magic items and spellbooks, which gets more expensive with every passing month. Eventually, only the wealthy can afford them. 

Then, magic-users need to put their name into a registry. Refusal to enter the registry will be met with punishment. 

Next, anyone whose name is in the registry needs to pay a spell-casting tax. If you take your name off the registry, you no longer pay the tax - but casting spells while unregistered will result in banishment. 

After that, only certain spells can be cast without a certain permit or license, which you need to be of noble descent.

Then, crimes involving magic face harshened punishments. Torture, banishment, having your magic taken by the Gean Canagh - and in the most extreme cases, execution.

Bit by bit, magic becomes more risky to use and less accessible to the lower class, enabling the nobility to consolidate their power over the kingdom. But it doesn’t end there.

He tells the dragonlords to keep their dragons under control. Convinces them to keep them in stables instead of letting them roam free, for the sake of protecting scared villagers. Feed them less. Dragons die due from starvation, restrictive enclosures, and depression.

Then it turns more sinister. Just kill a few of your dragons, only a few, Uther says - dragons require a lot of food and land to survive, and all these dragons flying around are gonna cause a food shortage. Just kill the old and sick ones, the runts, the wasted space. Don’t hatch quite so many eggs. Don’t hatch any eggs.

All the while, Uther started a propaganda campaign. To alert the non-magical masses to be wary of their magic-using friends. They may seem innocent now, but peasants don’t have the proper education or know-how to use magic without hurting others. If you use magic too much, the power will corrupt you. And those sorcerers whose magic we stripped away? They were conspiring against the crown. They were trying to destroy the kingdom.

Now non-magical peasants don’t trust their magical companions as much as they used to. People don’t trust magic like they used to. That rebel movement everyone was so fond of a month ago? Now that’s an extremist militia of power-hungry sorcerers. 

But even that isn’t enough. Nobles and peasants is a good division, but how do you keep the peasants from uniting against the upper class? Simple. You turn the peasants against each other too. And you do this by turning types of magic-users against each other. You turn religious magic-users like druids and priestesses against the more secular ones. You turn naturally gifted ones like dragonlords and seers against those who had to study for their magic.

(This part, turning the naturals against the studyers, is probably what caused such a discrepancy between narratives. Gaius tells Merlin that magic is something to be learned, while Balinor is insistent that you either have it or you don’t. Boom, now we’ve got gatekeeping in the magic community.)

All this unrest and suspicion within the kingdom begins to reach a boiling point. The nobles point to this as further evidence that peasants can’t be trusted with magic, if they’re going to be so volatile about it.

Then Ygraine dies. Whether or not it’s intentional, her death is used to perpetuate the anti-magic movement, and Nimueh is hung up as a scapegoat. 

By now, many dragons are dead, and those that aren’t already dead are weak and dying. Resources to help magic-users learn and study have been restricted, so a lot of them don’t know or can’t cast the higher level stuff. Most of the powerful and rebellious magic-users have either been executed or had their magic taken away. And the magic community is so distrustful and restless that no one trusts each other enough to unite under the cause of rebellion.

After years of gradually squeezing the magic community, they are now too weak and spread too thin to lead an effective uprising. They’ve been cut off from their magical resources and spellbooks. They’ve been divided and turned against each other. Not only that, but all magic-users are in a registry, meaning Uther knows exactly who to target first. 

The magic-using nobles think they’ll be spared at first, that Uther would never betray them. But the king proves himself far more ruthless than predicted, and within a week the air is clouded with smoke from noble pyres.

That’s how I think it happened, anyway. Could be totally off tho!

#yet another thrilling conspiracy theory with fish #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #bbcm #fish post

[tolstoyamericanrevolution]

The Seixas Brothers; Jewish Patriots

A family of Portuguese origins and first generation colonial Americans- The Seixas family had a powerful influence on the Jewish communities of New York, Rhode Island and Philadelphia- particularly through the eldest two surviving sons. Moses & Gershom.

Being of Portuguese origin the family were Sephardic Jews. Sephardic Jews being Jews from Iberia and later the Middle East, post inquisition. They had different customs to the modern culturally dominant Ashkenazi Jews, Jews from Northern and Eastern Europe- an elder contemporary of the Seixas brothers would be Moses Mendelssohn who was a Berlin based Ashkenazi Jews who helped the cultural integration and gaining of civil rights for Jews in Germany then Prussia. 

Religious customs between the two groups differed significantly particularly in language with Sephardic synagogues mainly being in Portuguese or Ladino when not speaking Hebrew. The Sephardi Jews also were seen as more refined and educated than the Ashkenazi Jews, as well as wealthier, in internal community dynamics. Hence the saying that the Sephardic Jews were the descendants “of Poets and Philosophers” see Judah Halevi or Maimonides as examples of a Sephardi Poet and Philosopher, from Spain and Egypt respectively. In Europe these communities were often segregated from each other, internally, seeing inter community involvement outside of business as distasteful. This included prayer & marriage. 

The situation for American Jews were quite different. The community of the Seixas brothers was small roughly 2,500 people barely a tenth of the population. Practising it was Sephardic due to the influence of the Dutch Jews, yet it was majority Ashkenazi in cultural and ethno-religious make up. Leading to a community that was small, spread out, cultural mixed and frankly too modern for the European rabbinical practises.

Now; to the Seixas brothers themselves. Born and raised in Rhode Island by Issac Mendes Seixas; born originally in Portugal and raised in London by Abraham and Abigail Seixas who were Marranos (Jews converted to Christianity, who continued to practise Judaism in secret due to the Inquisition) and Rachel Levy born in London, she was an Ashkenazi Jew related to the important Levy-Frank’s family. Her marriage caused such an uproar that many Sephardi members avoided it. As you can see like many Sephardic Jews their marriages were from across the world, and like many York City Jews they began the intermarriage of Ashkenazi and Sephardi. You can see more of their records in the image of the family register attached below. 

Sexias family register

The ideologies of Moses and Gershom were shaped by the world around them,  Great Britain had one of the most lenient policies towards Jews however this included the fact that they could not attend university, own property in the form of land or practise the law. The Jews rights bill in England would not come til the mid 19th century. Anti-Semitism was often seen in the writers of the day including Voltaire and English politicians. The Seixas brothers were of Portuguese origins which conducted the inquisition that oft burned Jews alive for either not converting or being secret converts, post expulsion. In the 18th century this continued in Goa, India & Brazil.

Russia conducted pogroms, which devastated the Jewish community until the early 20th century (although Soviet Anti-Semitism was by no means better post 1920s). This was also the era of the Pale of Settlement in which Eastern European Jews were restricted to modern day Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine unable to trade or live in any main city without a letter. Prussia, had begun the process of integrating Jews, however both sides were extremely cautious of the other. 

The Middle East was mixed, on one hand it was more tolerant than Europe with Thessloniki being named the Shabbat City as it was mainly dark on Friday nights due to observance. Yet; Jews were also mistrusted in the Ottoman Empire having to be identified by dress often a yellow hat or a type of shoe (this identification also existed in different forms in East Europe). Religious persecution varied from region to region. 

This was the time where Proto-Zionist thoughts were beginning, but it was mainly aimed at integrating in the current society. The idealogy popular among the American Colonial Jews (those with Wiggish leanings) was that the new state would allow for religious and economic freedoms in which they could be active, equal citizens of a country founded on the right of man to govern himself over a Christian or Muslim Monarch whose country saw them as deplorable. This is a bit of a history lesson but essential to understanding the context, in which these first generation Jews acted in who were likely spurred on by the revolutionary ideals and attitudes of the time, as well as their own. 

Moses was born March 26th 1744 and married Jochebed Levy also of Newport. He was a merchant, operating from the city and a proud follower of the patriot cause, his main influence being post the war in his encouragement of Washington to uphold the religious freedoms promised. He frankly; asserted it, rather than requesting it.

Moses was a civic and religious leader, being an educated man who was apart of the Freemason’s in Rhode Island. He believed such institutions allowed natural brotherhood between men, no matter their background. Moses later became leader of the King David’s Lodge. He was also the warden of the Touro synagogue in Newport, one of the oldest in the country, founded in the 1760s. Warden was a civic leadership role in a religious community. He often spoke at community sermons, including reading his letter to Washington in 1790 aloud to the man and the community. He also wrote letters addressing Washington as a fellow freemason. Outside of religious and civic duties he also post war co-founded the Rhode Island Bank. 

"a Government, which to bigotry gives no sanction, to persecution no assistance – but generously affording to All liberty of conscience, and immunities of Citizenship: deeming every one, of whatever Nation, tongue, or language, equal parts of the great governmental Machine." - Moses Mendes Seixas in his famous letter to Washington.

An interesting detail on Moses’s religious involvement, despite not being Hazzan like his brother, is the fact that in the 1770s he was entrusted by the Newport community to be the Mohel; The man who preforms circumcision on the eighth day of a Jewish boy’s life. He received instruction only by letter, and circumcised his own son successfully. It shows how well trusted he was in the community and also how Jewish communities in America often divided duties among each other due to the lack of Rabbinical influence and population. 

Moses’s letter to Washington 1790 

Last but not least, Gershom. I know the most about him due to what is avalible on his life, I have to admit this post is quite long so I will do a seperate one going into more detail about the younger brother.

Gershom Mendes Seixas was born a year after his brother and became Chief Hazzan of the New York community synagogue at the early age of 23. Despite being young for a role which was the nearest they had to Rabbi, he was voted unanimously which demonstrates the breadth of knowledge and charisma the man had. Hazzan, as Jews canted their songs, tended to lead the singing and the reading of the Torah in synagogue, especially without a Rabbi. 

As a Hazzan he was simply revolutionary. Not just in his politics. He was the first Jew to have a sermon in America in English, with the majority of his sermons from there onwards being in English. He pressed for the reconciliation between England and the Colonies, however his tone notes a man who clearly saw England in the wrong and the Colonies as having bargaining power over their overlord. 

From the start he was an interfaith leader, many of his friends being Tory Christians, he resumed many of these correspondents post war with those who remained. In 1776 he was extremely active, including writing a prayer in Hebrew for the reconciliation of the colonies, as referred above. When invasion of New York by the British came near, his emotive words convinced the entire congregation to board up the doors of the Synagogue with many leaving the city. During this time, his wife Elchalah suffered a miscarriage. He escaped to Connecticut with some of his followers, bringing the religious ceremonial items with him including the scrolls. 

With the take back of Philadelphia he was offered the role of Hazzan there which he served until 1784, there he actively argued against Protestant lawmakers who proposed changes to the constitution such as ensuring that only Christian’s could follow it and that it was impossible for those of other faiths to comprehend, like his brother he civilly fought these matters stating that it was "unjust to the members of a persuasion that had always been attached to the American cause and given a support to the country, some in the Continental army, some in the militia, and some by cheerfully paying taxes and sustaining the popular cause."

He would be present at Washington’s inauguration as apart of the significant  fourteen religious leaders that supported him, he was the only Jew.

Post the war he would continue to actively be involved in Jewish ceremonies, having an annual Thanksgiving sermon back in New York where he returned afterwards. He became the first Jewish member to be elected a trustee of Colombia collage. He would also create a Jewish charitable organisation in 1802 called Hebra Hased Ve Amet.

To this day descendants of both brothers serve as leaders of America’s remaining Sephardi community. 

Portrait of Gershom Mendes Seixas 1784

#turn washington's spies #turn amc #American revolution #revolutionary history #Jewish history #Gershom Mendes Seixas #Moses Mendes Seixas #The Seixas Brothers #my American jewish history rants #please enjoy #this means a lot to me #if you have any information feel free to add #also I did totally listen to the old man's back again as I wrote this #turn washingtons spies