#unsolved and endless

[kaus-quietis]

BSD Fyodor Dostoyevsky: an in-depth character analysis

“Человек есть тайна. Ее надо разгадать, и ежели будешь ее разгадывать всю жизнь, то не говори, что потерял время; я занимаюсь этой тайной, ибо хочу быть человеком.” / “Man is an enigma. It must be unravelled, and if you will unravel it your entire life, then do not say that you have wasted time; I occupy myself with that enigma, because I want to be human.” – the writer Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky, in a letter to his older brother, Mikhail (St. Petersburg, 16 August 1839)

The purpose of this post is to present and analyse information related to Bungou Stray Dogs’ Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s personality and methodology. Softer than shadow, unsolved and endless, Fyodor may as well “hide” his soul under our very eyes and we still would not know if that is the “real” him. This is my promised Fedya essay, an info-gathering analysis masterpost I hope you will enjoy and find useful for contemplating and coming to understand his complex character a little bit better.

Warning: merciless BSD manga spoilers. Literally spoiling everything. Also, this is an unbelievably long post (20200+ words). Have some lovely tea, listen to Rachmaninoff, and read in serene leisure or endlessly curious passion.

Last update: November 2022. 20.200+ words. The BSD manga reached ch105, the BSD anime completed season 3, while season 4 is announced for January 2023. Please refer to my original post (this one) in the future, as I could add updates periodically when new chapters release (or so I hope). Please note that I am using the official English translations for chapters 1-94 unless stated otherwise. I am eternally grateful for all fan translations. Lastly, please note that in this essay I will not focus on: 1) connections to F.M. Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment or other literary works; 2) connections to F.M. Dostoyevsky’s biography / personal life; 3) possibilities of what Fyodor’s ability could be; 4) the philosophical and ethical side of Fyodor’s motives. All these would require vast separate posts entirely (who knows, I might write them too one day). My intention is to offer guidance in decyphering what Fyodor’s personality is truly like, as well as how his methods and tactics play a role into shaping said personality or BSD’s plot. Last note: in this essay, quite frequently, I am making references to other beautiful posts written by BSD fans, tagging them and linking to their posts. If you are tagged and want me to remove the tag, please send me a message via ask box and I will edit the tag out.

Sections:

A. Let the hand of God guide you: Fyodor and hand / arm symbolism

B. He understands human nature deeply, if not perfectly

C. He values independence and (most probably) his co-workers

D. No confirmation yet that he is brainwashing others and why this is relevant

E. He loves and lives for entertainment

F. Humble, not arrogant. Self-proclaimed god or servant of God?

G. A strange divergence inside Fyodor. Is he a singularity?

H. Soft, discreet, graceful, yet playfully dramatic. His body language in the manga, in comparison to the anime

A. Let the hand of God guide you: Fyodor and hand / arm symbolism

When it comes to Fyodor’s character, even choosing a starting point for our discussion about him might prove challenging. For all we know so far, he is a Russian man with a completely unknown past, he appears to be in his 20s, just a pinch shorter than Dazai (as @kaikaikitanmp3​​ showed here), elegant, alluring and ambiguously sickly (see section H for more on his self-proclaimed anemia and overall physique). Until we get more canon manga information on his personal profile, I propose we start from something that already has numerous ties to Fyodor’s character, a symbol we can present the many meanings of, only to abandon us to our roaming thoughts later. This symbol is that of the hand, and, before that, the closely-related symbol of the arm.

Embrace of all. A symbol of both power and protection, the human arm represents the instrument to apply justice and punishment, to rule and to guide. Not only that, but as a symbol of a human’s strength and capacity to act, its image becomes that of vitality itself. To open one’s arms is an act of invocation, raising them to the sky – an act of calling for divine blessing, but this welcoming gesture also renders a person wide-open and vulnerable, receptive and embracing. A certain humbleness and vulnerability is involved in this gesture, because only then one can wholly accept what stands before or above them, let them in, understand and feel them. This willingness to embrace alterity, when represented in art or various media, can be of different nuances, thus triggering different responses in the viewer: it can be soothing, heartwarming, comforting, just as it can be unnerving, constraining, intrusive even for even just suggesting such embrace. It is no wonder we see this gesture in how Ango apparently imagines Fyodor (ch78). While his arms are covered by his coat, his open hands, as of darkness, extend towards the viewer. This image appears as Ango concluded that Atsushi getting shot by Nathaniel, later falling unconscious in Anne’s room, was part of Fyodor’s plan. How this plan covered and embraced that outcome is portrayed as unsettling, therefore making good use of the negative values of such body language and symbols. Together with the ch63 panel where Fyodor’s faceless silhouette is shown with his open hands turned towards his chest, each finger pulling a thin string, this example, too, suggests the idea of Fyodor’s influence and interference being disturbingly omnipresent, this time with the hand gesture emphasizing the hidden character of his plans. A different example, of Fyodor conveying openness through body language, specifically showing his palms to someone while even opening his arms in a welcoming manner, is when he was negotiating with Mushitaro in ch55, offering to end his imprisonment in exchange for Mushitaro playing a role in Fyodor’s Cannibalistic Mutual Destruction operation. At that moment, Fyodor’s gesture conveyed the sincere character of his offer, made more impactful by being accompanied by much gesticulation on Fyodor’s part during the whole scene (more on Fyodor’s rhetorical use of expressive gestures in section H).

Honesty and harmlessness. The symbol of the hand also represents human ability to act, putting a start or an end to action, as well as having the freedom to act. Just like the arm, the hand is a symbol of power, justice and dominance, as well as guidance and bestowing blessings. Open palms, much like open arms, convey the message of having no ill will, no hidden secrets, thus presenting oneself in an open, vulnerable position, but also one allowing reception of the other, and, in the case of the open hands, showing willingness to share, as the hand’s different “powers” are almost as numerous as human actions themselves: to contain, to take away, to keep hidden, to harm, to mend, to unite, to divide, to guide, to give. The meanings of these, melted together, would all still accurately be applicable to Fyodor’s character, who, in the most general sense, just like Dazai’s character or even more so, represents the complexity of human nature, so rich in paradoxes, so ultimately impenetrable. Now, showing your hands, and especially showing your palms or inner part of your arms (interior side of the wrists and upper arms, for example), means showing you have no ill intent (based on how, for example, since ancient times, such a posture simply showed the other that you do not carry any weapons). Hence, in this line of thought, we can approach the scene where Fyodor showed his fragile hand and wrist to Ace in ch42. It has a double meaning in this scenario: firstly, Fyodor is indeed honest and open, he does not have an ill intent, because his hidden purpose, in itself, addresses the greater good of humanity; secondly, Fyodor’s intent becomes “ill” only when related to Ace himself, who saw Fyodor as a threat and was ready to deny Fyodor his personhood, as he did with all his subordinates, who became his slaves or, rather, his disposeable objects and instruments. In so many of BSD’s events and organisational dynamics, it is evident how relativity rules the verdict we as readers can give to various groups or characters. BSD features excellent examples of grey morality everywhere, and the problem of whether Fyodor is good or evil is no exception. It is all relative to a past and a future we do not know yet, while still maintaing a certain unnerving, dark side that undeniably accompanies Fyodor’s character at each step. The reader is then immediately reminded of this dark, threatening side of Fyodor’s, as he concluded the ennumeration of his physical and circumstational disadvantages with the abrupt “So how about this? I’ll kill you instead”.  And while I did call this subsection “honesty and harmlessness”, everyone is conscious of Fyodor’s potential to harm at any time, most characters living in anticipation of being harmed by him, and yet we still have no clear idea how he applies physical harm (including death), despite having valuable depictions of how subtly he can exert mental and emotional harm, or simply influence, on others (more on that in the following sections). That being said, despite Fyodor calling humans sinful and foolish and expressing his desire to “purify” them (ch46, Fyodor: “Man is sinful and foolish. Even if they know it is all an artifice, they cannot help but kill each other. Someone must purify them for those sins”), we never see him acting like he hates or is disgusted by humans, nor like he forcefully wants to change how they behave. The latter reminds us of the thin line between plain manipulation (a thing Fyodor does when necessary for his larger strategic moves, as he has done in ch47 with fake Pushkin and the children or in ch75 with Sigma) and exerting oppressive corrective behaviour upon others (a thing we never see Fyodor doing, as he never changes the people he interacts with, who they are and what they value; see sections B and C). In fact, his openness to human nature in general is highlighted, for instance, in his interactions with Nikolai and in the way he talks about Sigma (see section C). Opposite traits blend perfectly into Fyodor’s character in most subtle ways, as I intend to prove by the end of this essay, so let us continue gathering such examples on the way, across all sections.

Bestowing blessings. In the manga, Fyodor was shown using a very specific hand gesture when using his ability on Karma, thus openly depicted only in ch42 so far. The same gesture, prepared but changed into one of covering Mushitaro’s head with its palm, appeared in ch56 in a hallucination, when Mushitaro was forced into a corner by Ranpo’s blackmailing, which for Mushitaro triggered images of Fyodor (more on this below). To me, this peculiar hand gesture is like a mixture of different acts I witnessed or experienced in religious contexts (to clarify my background, I’m slavic, Orthodox, and Eastern European, no “expert” in religions but fascinated by sacred rituals), and by this I mean specifically acts of blessing and chrismation done by priests. 1) Blessing marks bestowing holiness or invoking the divine will and protection upon a person (but also places, objects etc.), and is done in several ways: when one-handed and by a (consecrated) priest, using the right hand, with the finger positions spelling out the letters “IC XC” (for Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, Jesus Christ in Greek), the same sign being done with both hands when the gesture is two-handed; when one-handed and by a secular (also done between regular people occasionally), making the sign of the cross over someone or something using the thumb and index + middle finger stretched outwards, similar to the finger positions when making the sign of the cross on oneself. Fyodor’s hand position is most similar to the latter in this case, albeit with a sinister twist: Fyodor seems to use his left hand for the gesture. A different gesture for blessing, in this specific meaning mostly starting with the New Testament, is putting one’s hands over someone. There, this gesture is closely linked to the miraculous healings bestowed by Christ (as in Luke, 13, 13), and, after His ascension, keeping its relation to healing and bestowing the Holy Spirit, to the duty quite literally left in the hands of the apostles (as in Acts, 8, 17). 2) Chrismation is a Christian sacrament, where, in short, the priest anoints another person with the holy chrism, a ritualic ointment, while making the sign of the cross over specific body parts, each being a symbol of something, starting with the forehead (where the blessing of the mind is bestowed). Chrism itself, a common element in Mediterrean and Middle-East religious practices since ancient times, gained a particularly important role in Christianity, being used very often, in both baptismal and funeral rites, as well as sacraments (chrismation and acts of consecration). It symbolizes divine benediction, the gifts of the Holy Spirit, but also bestowing power and glory (in the context of coronations or such). Each time the author of the benediction is considered to be the divinity, whereas the one who applies the chrism on the other is a mediator between the earthly and the holy. Notably, this use in baptisms and funerals marks an associations with beginnings and endings, life and death. To me, Fyodor’s hand gesture when using his ability, particularly the gentle touch of another’s forehead, always looked similar to the act of anointing someone with chrism (though it is not usually done directly with the fingers, but with a little brush or one half of the ointment’s recipient), and in line with his canon dialogues, we could say what he bestows is “the great silence”, “the salvation of death”, which can turn into the blessing of a meaningful, peaceful death, bone-chilling nonetheless, such as in Karma’s case (ch42, see section B where I expand upon this). This gesture links Fyodor’s character to the image of a mediator, the role of “the right hand of God”, carrying out a mission that can be regarded as holy (based on Fyodor’s use of religious vocabulary), although we still lack canon material to fully establish whether that is only a trait of his way of speech or indeed a hint for his motives’ origins (see section F).

Threat and manipulation, relative examples. Later, in ch56, Ranpo hit Mushitaro’s most profound, personal weakspot by adopting Fyodor’s type of manipulation, in the form of a one-time bargain with emotional pressure, an offer he could not refuse (Ranpo would have releaved a truth Mushitaro did not want to make public if Mushitaro did not accept Ranpo’s terms; see also @looking-for-stray-dogs ’s post here). However, given that we already saw Fyodor offering Mushitaro a deal in ch55, there is a noticeable difference between Fyodor’s and Ranpo’s deal here, which, in my opinion, shows that Ranpo cannot immitate Fyodor completely (or refuses to) while he also imagines him as a much worse person than Fyodor can be deduced to be, in fact, strictly based on his interaction with Mushitaro. In ch55, it is shown that Fyodor simply offered to free Mushitaro from the basement he was locked in, in exchange for Mushitaro using his ability serving Fyodor’s Mutual Destruction plan once. This deal was fulfilled and their interactions ceased. I would call this a case of pragmatic manipulation, because Fyodor did not profit of Mushitaro’s feelings or past, he only offered freedom from Mushitaro’s cell. By contrast, Ranpo, assuming Fyodor works only (and especially) with emotional manipulation, simply blackmailed Mushitaro into turning himself in. Of course, Fyodor is capable of emotional manipulation (as in Sigma’s and Nikolai’s cases, see section B, but also section H below), but he can also manipulate others not even bringing their emotions into the discussion (as in Mushitaro’s case). By limiting his assumptions to emotional manipulation, Ranpo may be walking down a dangerous path, disregarding the full spectre of Fyodor’s methods. Assuming Fyodor is “the worst person possible” by default could also prove to be a wrong approach, as it is easier and convenient to conclude on that for others, but assumes too much about Fyodor and adds a rigid label on him, one that Fyodor can exploit later. In fact, we saw he already did once, by giving the worst relationship advice on purpose in ch64, in Meursault, when Dazai asked for said advice within Fyodor’s “All-smiles Problem-solving Roooooundtable” (and yet, this, together with Dazai’s lines, were shaped that way for the purpose of establishing the terms of their secret code, as I shall argue below, in section C). Meursault guards are portrayed monitoring Fyodor and Dazai, whom they consider “demons” of crime, expecting them to be exactly the worst souless manipulator and the worst flirtacious lunatic respectively. I would like to thank Eliott @stories-from-saint-petersburg for discussing this scene with me in-depth and putting this aspect of it into very fitting words I shall copy below. Besides the ideas presented here, see also section C for this brilliant scene’s actual meaning, according to what I could deduce further.

Eliott: “But also, they know they are filmed and that people are listening to them. So it would make sense to give answers that are more far from their characters, to confuse or not to give too much info to their jailors. Just like they switch to code when speaking about more serious things. That’d make sense in a strategy where you have to deceive your opponent, the opponent being Meursault. If they both give shit answers (and the answers that are expected from them), then the way they make up their plans will be still more difficult to find out by the prison.”

There is more to be inspected in Mushitaro’s ch56 hallucination of Fyodor covering his head with his palm. For this, I shall leave a different discussion I had with Eliott below:

Lav: “One difference is that Karma (ch42) actually experiences that touch. He sees Fedya's hand, he feels the touch of his fingers. It happened as an event in his life. In comparison, Mushi (ch56) sees this image when Ranpo blackmails him into turning himself in, as Ranpo makes a speech about using the methods of a demon to reach his goal (debatable, I will expand on this when the time is right). Apparently, Ranpo's speech triggers an emotional reaction in Mushi, who then imagines Fedya reaching towards him, making the same gesture he did to Karma, and the panels are white, while the end of this vision (Fedya placing his whole hand over Mushi's head) is in black.” Eliott: “Can’t it simply show the effect Fedya had on Mushi? A feeling of being oppressed and trapped, or something akin to control from a mind that’s greater than his? To me it looks like an allegory of manipulation, but not especially like an ability or something akin to it.” Eliott: “If Mushi saw Fedya use his ability, then he knows his touch means death. Anyway, he knows Fedya is dangerous. Touching someone’s head is a common symbol for either intimacy, fondness or manipulation. Mushi probably knows he can end up killed, and this is a fear that can explain this imagery, and even the manipulation he’s subjected to. The fear of dying is a good motivation for someone. Furthermore, he is still traumatized by the death of his dear friend, so it’d make sense this is very impactful for him, either death or being near / in danger of it? Also, Fedya here looks like how his friend is depicted graphically.” Eliott: “<So,> he doesn’t have to <have experienced this physically before>! Imagining someone threatening touch you is frightening, even if you don’t know they can kill you with one touch. And when speaking of being trapped / manipulated, it’s quite logical to imagine the person that has you trapped touching you, it’s an oppressive image either way.” Lav: “True. (…) One detail that supports this <that Mushi only hallucinated without previously witnessing Fedya’s gesture> is how in Karma’s case Fedya stretched out two fingers (index and middle) to his forehead, much like in a blessing gesture, while Mushi imagines a hand with all fingers fully extended towards his forehead. Also the death touch to Mushi is done with the right hand, while for Karma it’s the left hand??” Eliott: “I still don’t understand that gkflg, I’m wondering if the artist just forgot to draw one right hand ahah”.

Important unexplained details. Everyone’s ability in Dead Apple has an ability gem located on their forehead except: Atsushi’s tiger (nape), Akutagawa’s Rashomon (inside its chest), arguably Dazai’s No Longer Human (inside his chest), and most importantly here Fyodor’s Crime and Punishment (the back of his right hand). Another note, out of all the abilities, only Mori’s Elise, Fukuzawa’s All Men Are Equal and Fyodor’s Crime and Punishment are able to talk or heard talking. One detail unique to Fyodor’s ability and Mori’s ability, though, is that they each have real eyes with irises and pupils, as if they are human, and not just an ability with empty, glowing yellow eyes like in all the other cases, except Atsushi’s tiger. One could surely speculate on why exactly Crime and Punishment has its ability gem placed on its hand, but I want to move on to other topics in this essay. Lastly, on Fyodor’s motto, “Let the hand of God guide you”, see section G.

B. He understands human nature deeply, if not perfectly

Contrary to the popular opinion that Fyodor does not have an ounce of humanity in him or that he cannot understand nor feel human emotions, the canon presents evidence that Fyodor understands other humans and their emotions profoundly. Let us keep in mind the definition of empathy (“the ability to understand other people’s feelings and problems”), as well as the fact that there are different types of empathy, such as affective empathy or cognitive empathy (the latter applying to Fyodor the best). Instead of speculating that Fyodor completely lacks empathy (a lack psychopaths share, and Fyodor’s case proves to be much too complex to simply throw into that spectrum and call it a day; see @tecchous-thicc-buttocks​​ ’s post here, where OP not only has a great post, but also a smashing username AND a superb N.V. Gogol reference in their blog description to laugh your heart out to), I invite you to explore exactly the opposite, namely the idea that he has capacity for perfect empathy and uses it instrumentally to make it suitable for his plans. The canon material showed us many situations that support this (too), as we shall see below.

Fyodor “connects” with others mentally, emotionally and / or spiritually in such an accurate way, that this skill of his is portrayed as bone-chillingly sinister, in scenarios holding starkly contrasting ideas. It is not just about analytically deducing what a person would do next or what would objectively motivate that person, Fyodor knows the depths of people’s hearts, as can be seen in his discussions with Karma, Shibusawa, Nikolai, and the way Fyodor talks about Sigma. I shall present each case in detail in what follows, made into a list of people whose problems Fyodor saw through and responded to adequately.

Karma’s problem was of intellectual nature: to die a slave or a free man, and how those are mutually-exclusive conditions, in regard to which Karma recognized himself trapped in the first condition (slave), but was later “transported” into the second condition (free man) by the circumtances and type of death Fyodor “granted” him. Frequently rationalizing each situation in his inner monologues, pondering each factor and possible outcome analytically and in admirable control of his emotions (as seen throughout the entire ch42), Karma explored, so to say, the “syllogisms” behind what was happening to him too: I want to be saved + I am a bad person + saviours do not save bad persons => I will never be saved; OR I am a bad person + I am not a free person + a saviour can free me by saving me + saviours do not save bad persons => I will never be a free person. Even if the concepts belong to morality discourse, Karma’s approach is straightforward and logical, therefore there is no scene of him begging Fyodor for help, freedom or vengeance, as well as no scene of him even running away from Fyodor: despite being frightened, he was able to withstand his irrational reaction and sought knowledge and clarifications through conversation even in the face of the Demon. Karma was a person who rationalized and accepted his personal condition, and he was all the more shocked that this “slave” condition was dissolved by the events caused by Fyodor. Although Karma had to be killed so that no trace was left by Fyodor, what deserves attention is, on one hand, the fulfillment on Karma’s dying face (dying as a free man), and, on the other hand, how Fyodor gave him privacy when he gave his last breath, as Fyodor is portrayed looking directly at Karma only after he passed away. The fact that Fyodor is portrayed as looking at Karma’s lifeless body afterwards at all can be interpreted as Fyodor contemplating Karma’s end, especially given how in ch42 all background elements vanish in this particular panel, deepening the solemnity of the moment (as @linkspooky​ noted too, together with Fyodor’s understanding and acknowledgement of Karma as a person, worthy of sharing knowledge with, here). And yet the anime (S3ep4) did not insist on this manga panel at all, skipping it entirely. The prayer that Fyodor offered for Karma at the end (“May your soul find salvation… released from the yoke of sin”), while facing him (unlike in the anime, where Fyodor does not look at Karma at all) was the conclusion of Fyodor’s solemn meditation, and I find it a shame that the anime did not linger on this aspect. This scene blends a merciful death with a necessary crime, such contrasts being typical to Fyodor’s character. This prayer for Karma may in fact not be the only one Fyodor offered to those he led to their death by necessity: indeed, Fyodor’s cello recital in front of a captured Katsura in ch47 may have served the same purpose. Given that Fyodor informed fake Pushkin about Atsushi and Kunikida’s arrival, via the telephone, in real-time, we can assume Fyodor knew exactly when the two Agency members clashed with the armed children and when the little girl triggered the detonation of her grenades. After replying to Katsura’s remark, meeting Katsura with the impenetrable grin typical to both him and Dazai, Fyodor recommenced playing with closed eyes and no smile (thus fully immersed), unlike in the anime (S3ep9), where Fyodor never stopped playing in order to talk with Katsura, yet him stopping to play the cello just for that is, in my opinion, very important, as I will try to show here. Fyodor’s cello recital ended with him offering a prayer, which at its end addressed specifically all children of the world (ch47, “Joy to the world… and blessings to all its children”). Therefore, the cello scene carries solemnity, thoughtfulness and emotion, contrasting with the violent sight of the dead children breaking Kunikida’s spirit, and in this light Fyodor’s recital (which Katsura himself did not understand the purpose of, as he was clueless about what was happening outside) becomes a musical prayer for the sacrificed souls. Once again, despite being terribly beautiful in animation and sound indeed, it is a pity the anime depicted this scene in a weirdly ecstatic and stereotypically evil way, giving Fyodor a demonic gaze and grin, as well as making Fyodor face Katsura while playing, despite Fyodor not being turned towards Katsura at all in the manga (ch47), given how he looked at Katsura over his right shoulder (Fyodor’s body position further supports the idea that the recital was not meant for Katsura). As a closing note here, the anime added a specific detail at the scene’s end, one I personally would consider mischaracterization: in the anime, Fyodor broke his cello after the recital, and yet this never happened in the manga, and now we can guess why (Fyodor prays for his innocent victims). See section H for more on Fyodor’s overall gentleness, as well as my previous post about the cello scene here.

Sigma’s problem is of emotional nature: for a man without a past, lacking life itself before he found himself “existing” directly as a young adult (I assume he is a young adult), he was most desperate to fulfill his most basic and primary emotional needs, i.e. having a safe place to call his “home” and belonging to people whom he can call “family”. These are exactly the things Fyodor offered to Sigma right from the start, as if anticipating his arrival in that state, but Fyodor also praised and described Sigma for Dazai (ch75) in a very positive, heartfelt way that also implies Fyodor’s admiration for Sigma, as well as acknowledges a certain superiority Sigma has, even compared to Fyodor and Dazai themselves. Depending on the true nature of Fyodor’s relation to Sigma, as well as Sigma’s true nature in itself, I assume this point here will change in nuance in the future, but in the present the canon tells Fyodor has read Sigma’s heart like an open book. I refrain from adding more to this paragraph until new chapters give me new ground for it.

Nikolai’s problem is of philosophical and spiritual nature: the very fact that Fyodor could understand Nikolai’s core problem, his central existential dilemma, not to mention how quickly Fyodor grasped it, is something that both elevated and destabilized Nikolai. Fyodor rightfully explained that Nikolai fights God “in order to lose sight of himself” (ch78), which, theologically-speaking, is very much accurate from a Christian perspective: a human’s highest and final goal is to “see God”, to return to where man was exiled from (heaven, the Fatherland or patria in Latin, the future heavenly Jerusalem etc.) and, once there, to contemplate God eternally, finally reunited with their Creator and seeing “face to face” (see 1 Corinthians 13:12). That is, because there is where man’s real nature lies, where it came from and belongs to, but also man being created in the image and likeness of God (see Genesis 1:26), together with a Platonic and Neoplatonic philosophical legacy, led to a tradition of interpretations (part of our overall cultural heritage) where man’s divine part (or God himself) resides deep within the human soul: therefore, introspection or contemplating one’s own self holds incredible importance. Nikolai fighting God “in order to lose sight of himself” is a very well-chosen line for Fyodor and a great way of presenting (a glimpse of) the depth of Nikolai’s soul to the readers, one that opens many possible interpretations, not just the one offered above. Nonetheless, Fyodor’s response is particularly disturbing, because he calmly stated what frightens and enrages Nikolai the most: the fact that the sight of God is, in the end, the sight of himself, his true self, and “fighting against God” inevitably becomes “fighting against himself” too. So what is left when Nikolai fights against this truth? What is left must be what is unique to Nikolai as a being, if there is anything like that at all. So far in the manga, it seems Nikolai struggles desperately with the concept of the “omniscient God”, who possesses knowledge of past, present and future as well, which opens the particular Pandora’s box of “predetermination vs human free will”, a monstruous philosophical problem as old as time (or at least heavily discussed ever since Ancient Greek philosophy and Early Christianity too). One must note that, by answering like this, Fyodor essentially denied Nikolai the success of his mission, but granted him the rare gift or rare curse of being fully understood by someone else. One truth too much, the resulting emotional impact on Nikolai was disastruous, as Nikolai appears to be a person of high sensitivity, very susceptible to the power of words and how they plant ideas in his mind. Even if Fyodor’s response is not malicious in words (see, however, section H, about the meaning of the tilt of his head and how this scene is an example of intentional emotional manipulation), this interaction was profoundly unhealthy and destabilizing for Nikolai, which I would argue is well in the spirit of N.V. Gogol’s characters, having their spirits frequently broken by the most mundane things which nonetheless go beyond what they are capable to live with (read The Overcoat, Nevsky Prospekt first half, even Diary of a Madman).

Shibusawa’s problem was of personal nature, linked to his past: not only the Mayoi cards, but also the entirety of the Dead Apple movie make it clear that Shibusawa and Fyodor were long-time acquaintances before the fog incident in Yokohama happened. The most objective proof on this are Shibusawa’s words themselves, when telling Fyodor (in the Draconia room, in Dazai’s presence) that it was thanks to Fyodor selling information to Shibusawa that the fog incidents could happen, and in Yokohama too at such an impresive scale. Since Shibusawa told Dazai he did not find “having friends” necessary (since everyone was like a open book to him), I will refrain from calling the personal relationship between Fyodor and Shibusawa “friendship”. Now then, later on, despite being surprised by the ability-gathering Dragon event triggering after he approached Dazai’s “ability gem”, Shibusawa was not angry nor shocked when Fyodor cut his throat: Shibusawa immediately realized he found his most important personal memory as a consequence of Fyodor killing him or, rather, Fyodor “granting” him death once again. Here, too, two contrasting images combine: 1) Fyodor offering “death” as a “gift” or “blessing” that gives Shibusawa exactly what he needed most, and 2) Fyodor essentially killing his old acquaintance, but with the twist that Fyodor was aware Shibusawa would not die yet, quite the contrary – as a result of Fyodor putting a fragment of the crystal that gathers all abilities on the skull’s forehead (as a “small gift”, as Fyodor called it), Shibusawa was revived and enjoyed one last “epic battle” and then died a truly fulfilled person. In fact, Dazai predicted this outcome in the very first scene with the three of them at the table in Dead Apple, telling Shibusawa he is the one in need of “salvation”: Shibusawa then asked Dazai “And exactly who do you propose could save me?”, to which Dazai answered “Who knows? An angel, perhaps? Or, maybe, a demon” (then Fyodor enters the scene; note that I cite the dub version and that, at the end of Shibusawa’s and Atsushi’s battle, Shibusawa’s last words to Atsushi were “(…) The meaning of that man’s <Fyodor’s> words. I understand all of it now. It’s you! You must be the angel who has come to save me”). Anyway, the movie leaves several interesting questions unaswered: could Fyodor have granted death to Shibusawa, and therefore give him his most important memory back, at any time, or was the whole Yokohama setting necessary? If the latter, was it necessary for Shibusawa or necessary for Fyodor, and Fyodor acted only when their distinct goals aligned? In any case, allow me to expose something very intriguing in the next lines. After Fyodor granted Shibusawa death by cutting his throat in a single swift knife attack, the moment Shibusawa’s memory of his first death returned overlapped with the moment Atsushi’s memory of the same event returned to him as well. In the flashback, Shibusawa stated that he conducted those ability extraction experiments on Atsushi – specifically, Shibusawa pressed the switch – because “a Russian man” told him Atsushi’s “power was coveted by every gifted in the world”. Later, Shibusawa added “the Russian’s name was Fyodor”. This makes all events align in such a way that one could speculate Fyodor was leading Shibusawa and everyone involved with him (Ango and the government) down that precise path we see reach its end in the Dead Apple movie. This makes Fyodor’s words from ch42 all the more relevant: “People can be so simple… They truly believe they are thinking for themselves. (…) They don’t want to think they’re being led by the nose”; or, in S3ep4’s dub: “People are eager to believe that they are acting with free will, that they know best. (…) We all loathe to believe we can be controlled”. One last thing to note and analyse here: as Fyodor walked away alone on the hallway and the Dragon got unleashed, he had a “conversation” with Shibusawa’s skull:

Fyodor (sub): “I’ll tell you an interesting fact, in celebration of you finding a friend in me.” Fyodor (dub): “In thanks of our newfound friendship, I’ll offer you a bite from the apple of knowledge.”

Fyodor and his ability then delivered their famous “I am crime. I am punishment” dialogue. While there are significant wording differences between the versions cited above, how Fyodor referred to “friendship” here is mocking and ironic, so the nature of the bond between him and Shibusawa (beyond that of “informant and information buyer”) remains debatable. It is beautiful how the dub version of the line offers a splendid example of godly and demonic imagery blending in the character of Fyodor. In a Christian cultural context, two precise ideas come to mind simultaneously when hearing Fyodor’s line: 1) it was God who created everything, including the first humans (Adam, then Eve) in Eden, amongst all the fruit-bearing trees, giving them rules as to what they could consume or not (the power and authority “to offer” something rightfully was God’s, being the one to give and take away, to reference  Job, 1, 21), but also 2) it was the Devil who “offered” Eve such a bite, tempting her through suggesting she should eat from the forbidden fruits of the tree of knowledge of good and evil (the infamous “suggestion” was the Devil’s, making a forbidden “offer” that was actually a transgression). It is unclear to which of these two ideas Fyodor is closer, and it may as well be possible he is equally close to both, further encompasing contradicting traits. Nonetheless, given that Karma himself introduced the yet unresolved theme of “transcending human nature” and “transcending good and evil” in relation to Fyodor’s character (ch42, Karma: “Ace was evil, but this guy isn’t even that. He’s some kind of nirvana. Something that transcends mankind itself…”), this particular line from Dead Apple supports Karma’s observations and how Fyodor’s character combines the ideas of creator and destroyer, like @looking-for-stray-dogs put into beautiful words here. This only becomes more interesting when we consider the archetype or role of the “servant of God”, which Fyodor consciously claims to fulfill (see section F below).

Kunikida: Yes, you read that correctly. While Ivan and Nathaniel are, as of now, total wildcards and I do not have enough information as to objectively describe their situation or how Fyodor won them over or “read their souls”, Kunikida’s case is the perfect example of Fyodor’s understanding of a person being so deep and accurate that he knew exactly what actions would cause them to break and render them useless for a significant period of time. Moreover, Kunikida’s case becomes even more intriguing if we remember that Fyodor successfully read his nature without even meeting him. Well, that would be the introduction to this minisection about Kunikida, but frankly I did not have enough time nor energy to dig deeper into this as of now. Perhaps in the future I will update this part with information and links to several great analysis posts I am sure Kunikida fans wrote out already, with their whole heart in them.

These examples share the fact that Fyodor accurately reads the intellectual (Karma), emotional (Sigma), philosophical and spiritual (Nikolai) layers of the human heart, as well as is capable of perfectly adapting to one’s personal baggage on the long term (Shibusawa). This means he posseses an extraordinary capacity for empathy, but, as he never loses his composure (except for small instances of surprise or adrenaline rush, like in ch46 and ch53), his willpower controls every single gesture and reaction he makes, which makes him a terrifying foe who has complete control over himself, never overreacts and thus seems soulless (ch42). His understanding of human nature fiels his skill to deduce future actions and thoughts of other people, which in turn may deepen Fyodor’s individualism or trigger his eventual alienation (paired with perceiving humans as “boring” because they are predictable, to which Dazai disagreed in ch77, albeit it must be noted that this is only an assumption Dazai made about Fyodor, that is not entirely supported by the canon dialogues; see section E), as well as encourage Fyodor to use others as predictable (and therefore reliable) pawns in his plans. Again, Fyodor’s character combines two very contrasting yet interdependent things in his strategies: acknowledging others as humans (with individual problems) firstly, and using them as instruments when necessary, on that basis (as Fyodor becomes their problem-solver). This shows both how versatile and accepting Fyodor is as a thinker and leader (see also section C). Theoretically speaking, could Fyodor use Dazai as a pawn, if Dazai is completely alien from being human? But that would open another massive collective essay on what is going on inside Dazai’s soul and mind, as the fandom so often and so admirably tried to figure out already. Personally, I am a firm believer in Dazai’s humanity, and if Fyodor can indeed understand it all the way to its core, then one may wonder if Dazai’s humanity will be his downfall.

C. He values independence and (most probably) his co-workers

Continuing on the previous paragraph’s line of thought, here’s the catch: it is important to keep in mind that Fyodor nevertheless seems to treat certain “pawns” differently, perhaps considering them closer to him in some regard. People Fyodor refers to as “his staff” (and, in ch64, the faces of Ivan and Pushkin appear as examples) may be a matter of genuine concern to him, enough so that Fyodor asks Dazai how to make his subordinates less dependent on Fyodor: “My staff show no independence. All they do is wait for orders. How can I make them into good workers who take the initiative?” (ch64). To me, this question, even just as a light-hearted example for the sake of their shared prison mindgames, is plain shocking coming from someone always thought of as using people like tools and discarding them like broken puppets. As a first thought, to my stupefaction, Fyodor really took into consideration the independence of even his lower-ranking “pawns” as something worthy of a question, and valuable enough as to lament its lack. However, on later inspection I came to understand that Fyodor’s entire “roooooundtable” session from ch64 is in fact more like an icosahedron with razor-sharp edges (I mean, complex and slick), and can be taken both or either literally (like in this section I took Fyodor’s words literally) or figuratively, assuming Fyodor and Dazai’s answers as being each a substitution for something else entirely. Until I reach that point further down this section, there are more examples that refer to Fyodor’s perception of his co-workers (note: for the manga, my points of reference are the official English translations):

1) in Dead Apple, Fyodor celebrated what he called the “newfound friendship” between him and Shibusawa in Dead Apple, thus calling Shibusawa a “friend”, which is further supported if we take into consideration certain BSD Mayoi card descriptions (“Dragon Head Feud” card description, or “Bundled up” card quote: “Oh my, it seems that Dazai-kun and Nakajima Atsushi-kun have managed to evade us today. Well, if Shibusawa-kun is happy, then I'm happy. I'm his friend, after all.”); however, if put back in the larger context, the benevolent character of this statement is debatable (see section B);

2) in ch42, Fyodor told Ace “My friends have taken over the outside corridors”, thus directly referring to his Rats in the House of the Dead as “friends”, even if the fact itself was a lie to pressure Ace towards his suicide;

3) in ch95.5, silently agreed to considering Nikolai a friend when Dazai complimented Nikolai’s prison game idea. There are two instances where Dazai mocked Fyodor about having a nice friend in Nikolai, both of them in this chapter, and only in the second one Fyodor played along, agreeing to Dazai’s claim, but one has to bear in mind that the two could have been mocking each other in both instances:

Nikolai, ch95.5 (fan translation): “The wish to save my friend is indeed very difficult to falter. That’s why I need to shatter this determination, such to prove the free will of homo sapiens!” Dazai: “Seems like… you have a nice friend…” Fyodor: “…” – Nikolai (after a few lines): “From now on, you two will be participating in a jail break duel!” Dazai: “You indeed have a very good friend.” Fyodor: “I know, right?”

Leaving the debate open as to whether Fyodor is genuine when using the term “friend” overall (see also bsd-bibliophile’s post here, further inspecting Fyodor and Nikolai’s interactions, as well as mentioning one instance of the term “friend”, used by Fyodor for Pushkin, being present in the fan translation, but not in the original Japanese text per se), all this information nonetheless supports the fact that Fyodor himself may not be oppressive towards others, and that his methods rather rely on communication, negotiation and manipulation. Indeed, strangely enough, for example when approaching someone new with the intent to work with them, Fyodor’s ways are all “clean talk”: no torture, no physical abuse, no threats, no intimidation or humiliation, no blood as of now (on the possibility of brainwashing, see section D below). Instead, Fyodor becomes the ideal smooth-talker and deal-maker when first recruiting others, perfectly reading into their soul and appealing to their most intimate desires (see section B above, as well as @gold-pavilion​​ / akai-koutei ’s post here /oldhere, and there was a beautiful addition by @/goddessesofeverything here, but all reblogs of the original post were deleted and I cry). When approaching a clear target, however, there can be freshly spilt blood, for example 1) Mori getting stabbed (ch46), 2) Katai getting shot (ch49), and 3) Shibusawa getting his throat cut open (Dead Apple), in each case the action being done directly by Fyodor (firing the gun or holding the respective knives with his own hands). Lastly, if we take into consideration how Fyodor played along with Nikolai’s puns in vol.14’s omake, and how highly and affectionately he spoke about Sigma in ch74 and ch75, Fyodor’s actual dynamics with his subordinates or fellow Decay of the Angel members could potentially surprise the reader in future updates, because his polite and discreet nature do not seem to be a mere façade.

Another point needs to be addressed here, and it is whether or not we can safely use the word “care” to sum up Fyodor’s relationship towards his close co-workers (thank you, Sel @oddeyesight​​, for your questions that led me towards considering this aspect in more detail). First of all, one needs to acknowledge there are persons Fyodor worked with and then disposed of in the most indubitable way, like the mafioso he forced information from in ch51, indirectly all children in ch47 and directly the little girl with the grenades, whom he talked to via telephone prior to the events. Secondly, compared to them, there are characters that are closer to Fyodor, which Fyodor refers to as “friends” (so far, this applies to Pushkin, Ivan, Nathaniel, and indirectly consenting to calling Nikolai a friend; see the paragraph above). Looking at definitions of the noun “care” – “the process of looking after someone” and “the process of doing things to keep something in good condition and working correctly” (Longman dictionary) – the first definition I give as an example here can imply affection, whereas the second definition does not, and refers to an impartial instrumental approach. So far, from what I gathered, there is no canon basis to claim Fyodor cares about someone else in the first definition’s sense, only in the second. Until future manga chapters may or may not change this, I propose looking at Fyodor from another viewpoint: in relation to the antonym of “care” (neglect), and a closely-related noun, indifference. For this task I propose starting with the following scene from ch74, when Dazai deduced the Sky Casino’s origin and purpose:

Dazai: “It was made for two goals. As a base for the next terror attack and as “payment” for the use of Sigma’s skill. …Never waste a thing, do you?” Fyodor: “Our boss does hate to be wasteful.”

By saying “Never waste a thing, do you?”, Dazai implied that Fyodor executed all the steps he deduced, yet Fyodor shaked this claim off, directing Dazai’s remark toward someone Fyodor called “our boss”. We, as readers, naturally think of Fukuchi, who is the leader of the Decay of the Angel in title, but I dare say the entire fandom does not buy this, as in everything else Fyodor still acts like the puppeteer determining the actions of all the group’s members, whether they know it (Nikolai and Sigma) or not (Fukuchi probably and Bram). Fyodor humbling himself and downplaying his importance is a recurring behaviour of his, in varying depictions such as in ch46 (Fyodor to Dazai: “I will not be the one who will bring down your two groups. It will be you yourselves”), in ch73’s cover artwork of Sigma holding cards (where Fyodor is not an Ace, not even a King, he is but a Jack of Spades), in ch77 (Fyodor to Dazai: “Me? I didn’t do anything. I just sat here and prayed… and those prayers were answered”; see section F for more). This aside, hiding the identity of Fyodor’s “boss” had at least two purposes: 1) keeping Fukuchi’s double identity hidden (both the Hunting Dogs leader and the Decay of the Angel leader) and 2) redirecting not only Dazai’s, but our attention too. Since Fyodor and Dazai imagine their actions as if within a mental game of chess, let us reconsider the fates of Fyodor’s pieces so far, which include both the Decay of the Angel members and the Rats in the House of the Dead:

1) Pushkin was apparently captured and eliminated from the “chess game” (lost piece, used and then captured by the enemy in ch53), and yet he is alive and well, even shamelessly spilling information to Ranpo to save his own skin, while being interrogated (ch54), providing him with the lead on Mushitaro. Despite leaking information, so far nobody was sent to “clean” Pushkin off the table (as in Mushitaro’s case, whom Nikolai said he was assigned to kill off at the end of ch56). Pushkin leaking information may be intentional as part of Fyodor’s plans, which means Pushkin’s role likely did not meet its end yet.

2) Ivan was apparently captured and eliminated from the “chess game” (lost piece, used and then captured by the enemy in ch53), and yet Ivan survived and is probably held somewhere alive; also, Ivan’s loyalty and “happiness” never wavered, not even when in Rashomon’s tight grip (ch53), which means his trust in Fyodor remained unchanged and he did not abandon his role of Fyodor’s servant and “head chamberlain” (ch52).

3) Mushitaro was, most probably, really supposed to die (sacrificed piece, used and then disposed of: died in an exploding car after Nikolai’s surprise attack in ch56), yet he is still alive, last seen (iirc) safe in Poe’s mansion in ch78.5 (vol.18 bonus chapter at the end). Since Fyodor sent Nikolai to dispose of Mushitaro, it is rather clear Fyodor was not indifferent to Mushitaro staying alive, and now this is a loose end, one where Mushitaro survived and we do not know if this scenario has already been integrated in one of Fyodor’s larger schemes or if it will serve against Fyodor somehow later.

4) Nikolai was apparently supposed to die (sacrificed piece, used and then disposed of: sawed in half in ch58), and yet he is very much alive and already influenced the current events of the manga drastically. Furthermore, in ch95.5, when Nikolai started explaining his prison game, Fyodor replied “So that’s what you’re planning”, as if the two already agreed upon Nikolai doing “something”, and apparently that “something” remained a surprise to Fyodor, hence his reply was phrased as a conclusion. Note how Nikolai’s action remaining a surprise reinforce Nikolai’s freedom and agency, and Fyodor allowed this and played along, despite how accurate to his character it would be to have deduced Nikolai’s possible actions already. Then again, it could be that Fyodor knew that Nikolai had to hear precisely that kind of reaction, in order to continue playing a role Fyodor secretly predicted for him. Later, in ch98, after Nikolai’s prison game started, when Fyodor was waiting for Chuuya to arrive, Nikolai asked him “It’s been five minutes since the game started. You aren’t gonna move? Can I take that to assume… your pieces are already moving?”. If Nikolai’s prison game is an independent consequence of him independently choosing not to die, then why would Nikolai smile as if in agreement with Fyodor, supposing that everything went as planned? The problem of free will remains unresolved and tightly knit into Nikolai’s character even in the current events.

5) Sigma was apparently supposed to die (sacrificed piece, used and then disposed of: shot by Nathaniel in ch76), and just like Nikolai he is very much alive and playing a crucial role still unknown to us (in a conversation with Alex @vampireonastick​​ I suggested that Sigma being on Dazai’s side of the prison game might be a well-disguised infiltration strategy already planned out by Fyodor, with whom Nikolai cooperates on this, despite Nikolai’s “sidequest” to kill Fyodor); we have an important hint as to how Sigma’s death was never required by Fyodor’s plan: the “roooooundtable” from ch64. It is indeed highly probable that the entire “all-smiles problem-solving rooooundtable” session proposed and moderated by Fyodor was his masked suggestion (masked from the guards!) of creating a unique substitution code that only he and Dazai would be able to communicate in, as @fantastic-rambles analysed more in-depth here. And just like @mydearestt​​ noticed in this post here that, through his reply, Dazai in fact referred to his plan to make the Agency move, the same can be assumed in Fyodor’s case. To remember the dialogue, I shall copy the revelant part here below:

Dazai: “Me next. “I tried asking the café waitress out, but she won’t bend an inch. What should I do?” Fyodor: “Make her lose her job and home, trick her family into disowning her and she’s bound to come crawling to you.”

I propose reading this sequence as referring to Sigma entirely, because: 1) Sigma, much like a waitress, was contained and bound to his workplace, the casino, unwilling to leave once there, no matter who asked; 2) Fyodor set up the entire scenario of making Sigma lose his job AND home in the most literal sense by completely destabilizing the casino; 3) by doing unbecoming irreversible actions, Sigma secured his own family rejecting him, and all ties were cut with Sigma’s “death”, yet Sigma survived – equally destabilized, he ended up in a situation where, if Fyodor would have granted him another wish, Sigma would not have refused, naturally seeking the one person who may still have power to grant wishes as grand and Sigma’s, and that is still Fyodor, who both gave and took Sigma’s home. This being said, like Alex @vampireonastick​ theorized in their post here, I strongly believe Dazai strategically manipulates Sigma in the prison game, “shaping” him to defy Fyodor, the person he would otherwise “crawl back to”. However, since Fyodor chooses his words with utmost care all the time, no matter if truthful or deceiving, I personally doubt Fyodor would carelessly share his strategy (disguised as the grimest relationship advice) without it already being implemented into a larger scheme, in which Dazai acts upon the words he hears from Fyodor (and Dazai already did so twice in this arc, firstly by choosing Sigma, secondly by “building up” Sigma for his eventual refusal of Fyodor). What Dazai perhaps does not expect is the fact that Fyodor himself already talked to Sigma in ways that reinforce Sigma’s agency: for example, in ch73, Fyodor directly told Sigma that, should the Hunting Dogs attack the casino, Sigma should run as he would have no chance of winning; Sigma, on the contrary, remembering Fyodor’s words – not once, but twice in the chapter –, was pushed only more vehemently to defending his casino, thus acting on his own and defying Fyodor already, a reaction Fyodor most likely anticipated when making Sigma hear his “advice as a co-worker” (in Fyodor’s own words, ch73). In the end, regardless of the content of Fyodor’s words, it seems his kidnapper from ch42 offered honest advice to Karma: “Watch out… If you talk to him, he’ll pluck your mind out”. Despite how there is no proof of an actual “plucking of the mind” action yet (see section D), Fyodor’s words (often, if not always) twist the minds of those around him in a way that, paradoxically, both acknowledges and denies them their free will, encouraging decisions that seem free to the agent, but are already predicted and known to Fyodor (and in this, I must admit, Fyodor bears a resemblance to an omniscient god; however, his canon dialogues often convey a different role, a tension I discus in section F). In this light, I wonder if Dazai had this behaviour before too and acted upon words he heard from Fyodor in previous instances, such as the Mutual Destruction arc.

6) Nathaniel was apparently eliminated from the “chess game” entirely (sacrificed piece, used and then disposed of: captured in Anne’s room of no return in ch76), yet this does not imply he is dead, which begs the question if Anne’s room, the Agency’s only true safe space, is now compromised, as me and Alex wondered here (see also the reblogs and replies to their post).

One thing I want to remark here is that, despite how clear it is that Fyodor “moved” all these “chess pieces” already (only number 3 to 6 are relevant in this case), in ch76, right after Nathaniel got captured, as Atsushi and Lucy were celebrating their victory, Ango explained to them how the events at the casino were no victory, and how instead everything played as Fyodor has planned, claiming that Fyodor has not made any move yet:

Ango, ch76: “We lost because you let Sigma die. Now we have no leads to the Page. And… the Hunting Dogs saw us try to rescue him. In their eyes, that likely looked like the Detective Agency helping their terrorist allies. Our plan failed and we’ve only sowed more doubt. This is likely exactly as Dostoyevsky planned. Frankly… I can’t stop shaking. Until now, he moved none of his pawns and gave us no room to deal with him. (…)”

As I shall leave Ango analysis to Alex @vampireonastick​ like in this post here, I will return to the fact that so far the only true “chess piece” that Fyodor ever truly let die was Shibusawa. Then, to sum up, when his co-workers fulfilled their purpose and no use nor entertainment can be obtained from them anymore, Fyodor’s pattern seems to be leaving said co-workers with apparent indifference to their well-being, often abandoning them in a state or situation that is destructive to them (Shibusawa is the clearest example, but it applies to all other aforementioned characters as well). However, the twist is that none of these characters did reach the end of their assigned roles yet (and we may wonder if they will ever do that), given that Pushkin, Ivan, Nikolai, Sigma, Nathaniel and even Mushitaro are all alive and healthy. Consindering all this, the way BSD is narrated becomes even more interesting, because the reader would naturally project treating others as expendable on Fyodor, where in fact it is more accurate to Dazai’s character to act this way (and he did and does act that way, as @linkspooky​ pointed out in detail in their post here). Back to Fyodor’s “our boss does hate to be wasteful” line, while still just an interpretation, it would make sense that Fyodor refers to himself or his ability (if it’s a separate conscious being, see section G) as “our boss”, because all this information suggests that Fyodor himself hates to be wasteful, and that, excepting Shibusawa, Fyodor never wasted even a single pawn of his. That means Fyodor never neglects his co-workers (whom he calls friends!) and is never truly indifferent to them, albeit in an instrumental way, given that there is no proof yet that Fyodor’s care towards his co-workers is affectionate in nature. Let us close this section with a treat, though: in ch51 and ch53, there are two panels of a teacup with three teaspoons to its left. Differing greatly from the anime, albeit delivering the same subtle deception, these three teaspoons help in fooling the reader into thinking that Ivan poured tea in Fyodor’s cup, placed the teacup in front of him and then Fyodor consumed that tea, together with the jam that filled all three teaspoons at first (ch51). Given that 1) Ivan prepared the tea with three teaspoons of jam and 2) at the restaurant, Fyodor drank his tea exactly like that, with three teaspoons of jam, from this we can deduce Ivan is very familiar with Fyodor’s tea-drinking habits, which in turn leads us to the very likely idea that Fyodor and Ivan (if not also together with other members of the Rats in the House of the Dead) frequently had tea together, or Ivan prepared tea for Fyodor often enough to memorize his precise habits. The latter would support Ivan’s self-proclaimed status as Fyodor’s “head chamberlain” (ch52), suggesting that their group lived as family and / or nobility in the same house, if the definition of “chamberlain” is taken into consideration (Longman Dictionary: “chamberlain, an important official who managed the house of a king or queen in the past”).

D. No confirmation yet that he is brainwashing others and why this is relevant

Speaking of his methods of acquiring new collaborators, so far, it is most certain that Fyodor is not brainwashing people: not Fukuchi, not Nikolai, not Sigma, not Karma, not Pushkin, and certainly not the little girl with the grenades, even though the anime depicted the scene differently (in the manga’s ch47, a flashback appears where Fyodor talks to the little girl via telephone, thus he does not simply appear in her clouded mind like in the anime’s S3ep9).

But two characters Fyodor works with are in a very ambiguous position as of now: Ivan and Nathaniel. To begin with, Ivan’s case is very tricky at the moment. In ch53, he openly told Akutagawa that “my master cut out all the parts of his brain that feel unhappiness”. What can I say except our dear Vanya here is a lil’ crazy. I find his replies rather unreliable at the moment, because he is the only Fyodor-subordinate who is behaving like an intoxicated bacchant for now. While the ch53 quote is singular and, therefore, I cannot make anything of it, there is another thing that needs to be considered: in ch52, as he was walking away from Akutagawa and Atsushi, Ivan told them “I will not forget you. …No… You will now serve as part of my master’s joyful order”, but immediately after that he added “after 10 more steps, I will most likely forget your faces”. Apparent self-contradiction aside, whether he meant “forget your faces” literally or not, Nathaniel, too, went through an apparent mind-reset, as he did not recognize Akutagawa in ch46 and appears to have lost his entire personality except for his devotion to Margaret Mitchell and his determination to save her life. Now, mind-resetting and brainwashing are not the same, and removing a part of one’s brain or mind that is responsible for a specific emotion is, likewise, something entirely different. The manga did not give us further examples of similar things that Fyodor apparently had a role to play in, so I cannot present anything new here, only speculation. We also do not know if these effects are caused by Fyodor himself (without using his ability at all, much like he could simply talk Ace into his own suicide in ch42) or Fyodor’s ability specifically. This simply limits my current analysis of Fyodor’s methods to the beforementioned “communication, negotiation, manipulation” trio, which is not dependent nor related to his ability, and I will update these parts if the manga later reveals that Fyodor did indeed mold the conscience or minds of other people into whatever shape or state he desired. Until then, he is literally just a genius smooth-talker, and I refrain from making rash affirmations or going into more speculation here.

E. He loves and lives for entertainment

So many canon lines convey Fyodor’s love for entertainment. It is more specifically entertainment in a “good literature” sense, meaning conflict, tension, intensity of will and emotions, devotion, despair and generally human beings fighting for their needs or to solve their problems of many different, often opposing kinds. Let us take Fyodor’s own words as references. First of all, at the beginning of the Dead Apple movie, as younger Chuuya destroyes the entire building in which he and Dazai found Shibusawa the first time, Fyodor watched the scene from a safe distance, on top of a building. All he did was “absorb” the whole event with utter satisfaction, concluding the scene with his line “This is too much fun”. The motif is repeated several times in the Dead Apple movie, linking his own enjoyment of whatever chaos unfolds to “fun” and “entertainment”, so this line is not the sole evidence that entertainment is greatly valued by Fyodor, as it is the thing opposed to boredom, which constantly eats away at his and Dazai’s hearts because of their superhuman intellect. As Fyodor was getting the two most important ability gems ready for his and Dazai’s plan, Fyodor tells Dazai “Would you not agree that the more entertainment there is, the better?” (dub); moreover, at the end of the movie, his lines highlight the privileged spot of “entertainment” in his understanding of the world around him again:

Fyodor (sub): “Everything is but entertainment. But in order to end this world, rife with crime and punishment, I do need that book. The blank novel sleeping in this town.” Fyodor (dub):“Everything is just entertainment. However, this world is so rife with crime and punishment… In order to finally end it, I do need that novel. This special book that sleeps somewhere within this city.”

However, paying close attention to his words, we need to consider the possibility that in this instance Dead Apple either contradicts or deceives the watcher greatly, because in the manga Fyodor’s goal is clearly referring to “saving the world”, not “ending the world” (see also section G, near the end, for more on Fyodor’s possible motivation).

Now, in the manga (ch63), Fyodor stated that he openly refused to devise a perfect plan (as demanded by another Decay of the Angel member, possibly Fukuchi) because perfection is boring (Fyodor, ch63: “A Decay comrade asked me for the perfect plan… but perfect is so boring. I won’t be able to view the karma of humanity like this”). While at first glance one could be surprised by this statement, especially considering that “God prefers perfection and harmony”, in Fyodor’s own words from ch77 (see section G where I expand on this specifically), both lines (perfection is boring + God favours perfection) could potentially be extremely deceiving: since the Agency knows Fyodor is involved in crafting the Decay of the Angel’s plan, it is probably this implication that leads, for example, Kyouka in ch63 to tell Atsushi that their plan is “extensive and flawless”, and Atsushi’s inner monologue, as a response, appears together with a panel of a faceless Fyodor pulling strained strings in the darkness. If everyone expects Fyodor to be perfect and to create flawless strategies, an opponent like Dazai could include unpredictable, irrational or impulsive actions in his own strategies to outsmart him, as Dazai describes his appreciative acknowledgement of this behaviour he finds in other people (Dazai to Fyodor, ch77: “What’s driving the world are those in the storm of accidental events who scream, run and spill blood. Faced with their souls, you and I should be petrified with fear”; more on this specific dialogue in the next paragraph). But knowing this reaction would be triggered, Fyodor could always integrate imperfections in his plans, leaving his opponents with the impression that they act in the right way, on their free will, when in fact nothing they do has not been already considered by Fyodor (holding true to his lines from ch42). Personality-wise, the “perfection is boring” line becomes relevant if (and only if) Fyodor really, truly means it literally, and 1) does not say it just to tell what his opponent(s) (or the reader themselves) would want or expect to hear, without meaning it, or 2) does not say it as some kind of reverse-psychology, without personal attachment, to trigger predictable reactions in his opponent(s) (again, see section G for a continuation of this particular discussion). As a last example to support the idea of Fyodor loving entertainment, finding both fun and beauty in it, when a very shocked Dazai was asking Fyodor about the reason (“for what?”) for his stupefying strategic moves (the coin bombs, staging the casino as the battleground etc.), Fyodor only replied “Isn’t it more beautiful that way?”.

Now, ch77 presents us with a dialogue between Fyodor and Dazai which seems easy to understand at first, but becomes increasingly complex the more one dwells on it. To remember the full context clearly again, I shall sum it up and add the full relevant quote here: after Fyodor told Dazai that “God favours perfection and harmony”, after which it is confirmed that the Page was also used for changing all the world’s police and investigative agencies not to act upon evidence of someone framing the Agency, a parallel is shown with Tachihara who, inside his heart, decided to finally identify fully as part of the Port Mafia, exiting the inner state of being a Hunting Dog (military police force), thus existing the Page’s influence. Tachihara’s situation exemplifies what Dazai then explains to Fyodor:

Dazai, ch77: “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Siding with God sure didn’t teach you much!” Fyodor: “…Let’s hear it.” Dazai: “‘Perfection and harmony’? To God, those amount to a hill of beans. I saw it many times. All HE offers is happenstance and absurdity. A weakness… shared by the two of us… For all our ingenious plans, in the end we’ve wound up here, in a deep-level prison. What’s driving the world are those in the storm of accidental events who scream, run and spill blood. Faced with their souls, you and I should be petrified with fear. (after POV change to Tachihara) You’re right. People are sinful and foolish. But… they aren’t as boring as you think they are.”

In Dazai’s dialogue, I put in bold two quotes that need to be inspected. The first one refers to Dazai pointing out a weakness the two geniuses share, which refers to the primacy of the accidental in reality, as opposed to the predictability both Fyodor and Dazai operate with in all their plans, which can make the world seem trapped in an inescapable causality rationally-accesible to those with an intellect such as theirs. Dazai “bets” against Fyodor on this cruel primacy of “happenstance and absurdity”, where reason fails to follow the exact consequences of each event or human action, and yet the nuances and risks of this “bet” I already exposed in the paragraph above. In this context, Dazai seems indeed to talk about this weakness in an admirative, even hopeful tone, despite the fact that he shares it; for a brilliant exposition on Dazai (both the author and his BSD counterpart) in relation to sin and weakness, I wholeheartedly recommend reading Kat’s (@pompompurin1028​​) essay here. When Dazai stated this, a flashback to Odasaku’s fight with André Gide is shown, which can be interpreted as that one time Dazai’s predictions held true, yet still Odasaku chose to fight Gide, fully aware of the end, driven only by what I would call here human subjective drive. Such human subjective drive, independent from reason and logic, is what awakened in Tachihara as well: if Odasaku served as an example of “defeating” Dazai by exploiting his vulnerability to the (uncontrollable) accidental, then Tachihara served as an example of “defeating” Fyodor’s precautious plans by unexpectedly exiting the Page’s influence. In the end, this parallel can become unbalanced if Fyodor already included this kind of variables in his plans and works not ignoring, but embracing human individuality and spontaneity, which I would argue is (paradoxically) more likely the case, for what I exposed in sections B and C. 

As for the second quote I put in bold, there are at least the following examples that render Dazai’s assumption (that Fyodor considers people boring) untrue: 1) in ch75, Fyodor openly praised Sigma, carefully examining his personal torment, placing him not only above the Hunting Dogs, but also above Dazai and himself, as well as “all of creation” ; 2) in ch78, in a flashback, as a reaction to (presumably listening to) Nikolai’s inner struggle, Fyodor replied “That’s wonderful”, smiling and tilting his head (see section B, as well as H for the significance of the tilt of the head); 3) in ch80, Fyodor described the Agency “as beautiful as the evening sunlight (…)”. If people are indeed boring to Fyodor, he would not find their struggles and states worthy of deeper consideration, lengthy speeches of praise or expressive, poetic comparisons (admittedly with a dash of pity and sarcasm towards the fate of the Agency). So far, Fyodor is never shown expressing boredom in the presence of other people, quite the contrary: he is shown expressing sincere interest, as if each human is a case study, an enigma to be unravelled, much like Fyodor himself is to me, and to us within the BSD community (therefore I chose that specific fragment from F.M. Dostoyevsky’s letters to start my essay with, as a motto; there is much more to be said about that, but I reserve that for another possible future essay, where it would be necessary to discuss Fyodor’s character in light of his corresponding author’s biography, personality and literary works as a whole). And so, I would argue that to Fyodor humans are not boring, but providers of entertainment worthy of attention and inspection, even more so when they play a role in his plans (and it seems everybody is playing on a stage set by Fyodor so far).

Fyodor is also quite fond of not only perceiving events or circumstances as games (like his mental chess game with Dazai in prison, starting in ch63, always mirroring the course of everyone’s actions outside), but also proposing this approach to others (his rooooundtable in ch64 and his card guessing contest with Ace in ch42), albeit not carelessly, as each time such – yeah, I cannot avoid it at this point, I’m a gamer myself, here it comes *inhales deeply* – each time such gamer approach has a multifaceted utility and never strays from serving Fyodor’s two main purposes, achieving his plan to cleanse the world of abilities, and having fun (yes). Killing boredom via playing games, especially when in the company of a person on the same level, seems to be the first move Fyodor does when faced with monotony (even in vol. 20’scredit page, where Fyodor said “I’m bored. Let’s play twenty questions”, even if Dazai immediately delivers the final answer “Snow White”, and thus Fyodor retracted his idea with “Actually let’s not”, as Dazai’s superhuman intellect killed the fun too fast).

To look into two examples just a bit more, in ch64, during his roooooundtable with Dazai, Fyodor suggested “Next, let’s ask a question at the same time”, which appeared to be innocently fun, because it challenges two persons, in this case a native and a non-native speaker of Japanese, to coordinate their spelling just for the amusement of simultaneity; then, in ch97, as Nikolai’s deadly prison game was about to start, Fyodor lamented the outcome he was confidently foreseeing: “Yet losing a chess opponent in the next 30 minutes is still quite sad”, saying this teasingly, still talking as if in the context of his and Dazai’s mental chess game. On a last, entertaining note, because why not, this entire section might as well serve as proof that Fyodor is cat-coded, just like Dazai (see @wintertaurus​​ ’s post here, where they scientifically prove this, I don’t make the rules), despite being the leader of the Rats in the House of the Dead, and so one more fine example of a fictional INTJ further strengthens the definition of INTJs as “human cats”.

F. Humble, not arrogant. Self-proclaimed god or servant of God?

Starting with the latter half of this section’s title, that is a very tricky subject, in fact, because we as manga readers can observe both 1) one line that established a connection early-on between Fyodor and calling himself “a god” if God is dead and 2) many lines by which Fyodor is actually displaying behaviour and speech akin to a self-aware servant of God. Let us begin with the first one. So, in the first chapter dedicated to showing Fyodor to the readers in more detail (ch42), and only in the original Japanese version and the fan translation, the first page of the chapter together with the last page feature a quote from F.M. Dostoyevsky’s Demons. The quote put together is “If God does not exist, I am a god”, which is part of a dialogue by the character Alexei Nilych Kirilov (“Если нет бога, то я бог”, see Part Three, chapter VI, II). Perhaps a beautiful coincidence, but in this exact wording that the fan translation chose, the quote also appears in Albert Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus, chapter “Absurd Creation”, subchapter “Kirilov”, where the French author discusses F.M. Dostoyevsky’s Demons and the mentioned character, Alexei Nilych Kirilov. There, Camus calls that line “Kirilov’s premise”. In retrospect, this is a very puzzling line to appear associated with Fyodor, or rather appear as spoken or thought by him, giving the ambiguity of the quote’s placement on the pages. It is also puzzling because until now BSD gave us a character who seems like a better candidate for using that quote or being a reference to Kirilov, and by that I mean of course Nikolai. Moreover, the way Fyodor talks about or mentions God in dialogues that are clearly spoken by him later (I shall discuss examples in the paragraphs and sections below) very much conveys the message that Fyodor does not think God is dead, invoking him over and over (whether he is referring to the Judeo-Christian God or simply “a god” is not yet addressed in the manga). Still, the most striking information about this quote remains the fact that it is not featured in the official English translation at all. For comparison, I shall put an image with the last page in both versions below, and you can see the scan of the Japanese first page of ch42 here.

As we are walking on quicksand with this one, let us move on to the second point I mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph, about Fyodor as a servant of God. Because of his mission, of which he speaks as if it is of a higher calling, of divine nature, Fyodor also appears to see himself as a servant, namely a servant of God (servus Dei). He has the mind and the skill to carry out a mission of divine proportions (for us readers still an ambiguous goal: Fyodor, ch46: “And I will use that Book to make a world free of sin and skill users”, where “skill” means the same as “ability” and “gift”, as the fandom is used to these terms more). This, in turn, could have made him develop a strong sense of responsibility and a feeling of authority. As we are currently following the “servant” train of thought, these (sense of responsibility and authority) are not to be confused with what is called a “god-complex”, a slang expression which loosely corresponds to different actual psychological disorders such as narcissistic personality disorder, a thing Fyodor does not display core traits of. As of now, Fyodor remains surprisingly humble, discreet and respectfully formal both in speech (see @looking-for-stray-dogs’s posts here and here) and in gestures (see section H, on Fyodor’s body language), he acknowledges the possibility of imperfections and even welcomes them (ch63), he was never portrayed as becoming irritated at others (except his eyes expressing either anger or furious determination, as Dazai attempts to drown him and Chuuya in ch101), he is not a show-off and is indifferent to being adored or agreed with, and he knows how to take criticism elegantly when Dazai holds different opinions or outwits him. It is true that his grandiose “divine” goal, his frequent use of manipulation, and his apparent omnisciency and unbreakable composure give enough space to speculate regarding an underlying “god-complex” in his character (together with the ambiguous use of the quote discussed in the paragraph above), but the reader must acknowledge that, in all his replies, Fyodor refers to himself as if to a servant of God par excellence, as is the most evident in his ch77 reply to Dazai: “Me? I didn’t do anything. I just sat here and prayed… and those prayers were answered”. 

This direct self-characterization, too, plays against him having an actual “god-complex”. I would say that, by building on the humble yet powerful servus Dei image, if at all intentional, Asagiri presents us a far more complex character in Fyodor. For example, one of the many important subjects in Biblical exegesis, since the beginning centuries of Christianity, was how Jesus Christ, the Son of God, took upon himself the role of servant of God (see Philippians, 2, 6-7), but also of all humans (see the Washing of the Feet), and so humility and divine power become two closely tied ideas. In the manga’s context, Fyodor’s own humility can also have an added disturbing effect on the reader because of the implied power that coexists with it.

On the topic of the “arrogant villain” stereotype, I myself cannot find instances where Fyodor is, per se, arrogant. Longman Dictionary defines “arrogant” as “behaving in an unpleasant or rude way because you think you are more important than other people”, but we know for a fact that Fyodor behaves far from rude and unpleasant to others. Quite the contrary, he is humble and considerate, as can be deduced from his way of using the Japanese language (see the references linked in the paragraph above). He is never portrayed denigrating, humiliating or belittling someone else thus far. What is true is that Fyodor considers his goal (and not necessarily himself unless the manga reveals the opposite in the future) superior to anyone and anything on Earth, and this accentuates his heavy use of smooth manipulation instead of inflating his ego, actually hiding his true self behind more and more layers of words and actions he uses out of necessity to reach his higher goal. If we speculate that Fyodor is indeed (Orthodox) Christian and familiar with this doctrine, then it would be no surprise why Fyodor would cultivate humility instead of pride in general, as pride (superbia) is the beginning of all sin (Sirach, 10, 15) and when pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom (Proverbs, 11, 3). To sum up, I cannot find any manga panel where Fyodor is acting in an arrogant way, so I reached the conclusion that anything related to his arrogance, his stubbornness, his rudeness or, by extension, his superiority-complex is headcanon-territory at least for now. Only in chess did Dazai mention the “maliciousness” of Fyodor’s move while playing mental chess with him (ch72), and this malicious trait can refer to the bold and shocking way in which Fyodor attacks by directly using his King instead of other chess pieces (for a detail exposition of their chess moves, see @blackandwhitemusician​ ’s post here). Interestingly, Fyodor does indeed reply with “Malice is the greatest fruit God ever gave to man”, yet from what I gathered so far we still have yet to see a true act of malice from Fyodor, that is, an malicious action done for the sake of malice itself, and not for the sake of his higher goal demanding sacrifices or attacks on rival organizations. Lastly, from the current content one can safely deduce Fyodor is individualistic (in contrast to Dazai who seems to learn to rely on others, but once again I shall point to @linkspooky​’s post here to underline how, as they said, “Dazai doesn’t work together with others, he manipulates for the greater good”, emphasis in bold mine), but it would take more manga updates to make a step further and pinpoint Fyodor’s egoism or narcissism if he has any of these traits at all in himself, and not in how others portray him when they think about him (how Atsushi imagines him in ch63, or Ango in ch77, or Ranpo in ch95). Not only does Fyodor break antagonist stereotypes with these traits, but – still keeping the quote analyzed in the beginning of this section in mind – he continues to embody shockingly contrasting ideas all within himself, which takes us to the next section of this essay.

G. A strange divergence inside Fyodor. Is he a singularity?

Before I reach the point I want to present here, I suggest we reflect once more upon that unforgettable scene. Continuing in the atmosphere of the ideas from the paragraphs before, it is also important to remember how, in Dead Apple, Fyodor said “I am crime”, whereas his ability said “I am punishment”, and none of these imply Fyodor is seeing himself as a god incarnate who applies punishment, only that there is an open possibility that his ability, if it is an independent being/soul, might see itself as such, i.e. a force to punish others and/or to punish Fyodor himself. This would assign Fyodor himself the role of an agent serving someone or something else (presumably his own ability). About this, a quick note must be made here: since this is a piece of Japanese media, the word “god” can end up referring to something else rather than the Judeo-Christian God (whose name I always capitalize in this post, to emphasize the difference). We do not really know to what god Fyodor refers to all the time, who or what it is, or if said god’s identity remains the same throughout the manga. In this post, I chose to work with the assumption that Fyodor is Orthodox and refers to the Judeo-Christian God. Despite this assumption, I find the relationship between him and his ability truly intriguing, even more so if we put this discussion in the context of “singularities”, also known as “self-contradictory-ability-types”. Now, so far there are two clear instances where self-contradictions are implied in his dialogue, one of them being this scene from Dead Apple, the other one becoming evident when we connect Fyodor’s replies in ch63 (left) and ch77 (right).

Fyodor, ch63: “A Decay comrade asked me for the perfect plan… but perfect is so boring. I won’t be able to view the karma of humanity like this.” Fyodor, ch77: “You pulled the strings of conspiracy yourself, no? But God prefers perfection and harmony. Thus, I followed the heart of God and added one line to the page.”

By openly giving contradictory information, to me this is exactly an occurrence of a stark divergence within Fyodor, so let us give it our complete attention in what follows. Firstly, there is the possibility that Fyodor could choose to say something intentionally if he would directly benefit from the receiver hearing those exact words, even if Fyodor’s own belief lies somewhere else entirely (so the question to that remains open: what does Fyodor truly think about perfection, imperfection and God?). Secondly, in Dead Apple, we see Fyodor and his ability merge back together, from two bodies back into one single body, and this action seems completely voluntary on their part, thus opening the possibility that Fyodor and his ability could manifest separately when they will it. This makes me wonder if each of them can take over their shared body (in turns) when they will it, so that one of the lines reflects Fyodor’s way of thinking, and the other line reflects his ability’s way of thinking, thus the two statements are made in separate frames, resulting in no contradictions being made if, and only if, Fyodor and his ability control the shared body in turns. Even so, because they coexist, the ingredients for a singularity are already there within Fyodor, given this example and the Dead Apple scene, because Fyodor and his ability each identify with a term that contradicts the other (“crime” and “punishment”), with a possible implied superiority or “victory” on his ability’s part (the “punishment” bringing the “crime” to an end, lastly “killing” it on a conceptual level, in a succession that implies a linear flow of time). It would be all the more logical, in this context, for Fyodor to desire victory over his own ability at all costs. How his goal is worded in the Dead Apple Official Guidebook, as pointed out by @aja154ever​​ here, could also indicate a suspicious tension between Fyodor and his ability: “To create a world without Abilities is his desire, and it is a mystery if this has any connection to his Crime and Punishment Ability” (see the quote’s full paragraph on his ability in their other post here). For important references from the light novels on what singularities are, how they come into being and how they can manifest, as well as a wonderful theory on the possibility of Dazai being a singularity himself, see @beans-beneath-moonlight​​ ‘s post here. To close this chain of ideas, indeed on the open possibility of Fyodor being a singularity too, I want to mention what @beans-beneath-moonlight​​ observed in their post too, namely that in the BSD light novel 55 Minutes, there is also “Gab”, Jules Verne's ability that took over and killed him, continuing to live on its own as a separate being, so abilities existing separetely from their user’s bodies, as well as malicious abilities that can turn against their users, both can exist in the BSD universe. Lastly, I put just one useful, but short reference below, on a singularity’s cause and terminology:

Professor N in the BSD light novel Storm Bringer: “By causing a logical conflict with your own ability instead of with someone else’s ability, you can create a singularity,” as he said that Professor N raised his index finger and twirled it around. “That sort of ability. The German researchers who first discovered this, had named it ‘self-contradictory-ability-type’.

There is one last relevant dialogue I want to analyze here. Below are all of Fyodor’s words from his first appearance in ch12:

Official translation – Fyodor, ch12: “It’s all as I predicted. No matter what happens, we reserve the right to do as we please. Just as the hand of God and demon wills it…” Fan translation – Fyodor, ch12: “Everything is going as expected. In any case... you are now given free reign... as indicated by the right hand of God and the demons.”

Notice how the official translation says “the hand of God and demon” (demon is singular), while the fan translation says “the (right) hand of God and the demons” (demons is plural). I asked @popopretty​ for their advice as to how to understand this line better and, according to them, the Japanese quote allows for the noun “demon” to be translated either way. I shall put their answer below:

@popopretty​: (…) according to the Japanese version I have, the original phrase for that last sentence is “神と悪霊の右手が示しす通りに”, which directly translates to “as the right hand of God and demons show/point to”. There is no word to indicate that the word demon is singular or plural, but looking at the context, I think it is safe to assume that its plural. It says “right hand” here, which I believe because the phrase “right hand of God” is used a lot in Bible. It doesn’t make much different compared to the “hand of God” though, so I think the translation you quoted is close enough.

I agree that the chapter’s context, as well as the two coated shadows behind Fyodor, allow for an undertanding where “demons”, in plural, refers to Fyodor’s co-workers within his organization, Rats in the House of the Dead. However, since the official translation opted for “demon” in singular, I want to explore the other possibility here: what would it imply if “demon” is indeed meant to be singular here? I would connect this to what is stated to be Fyodor’s motto in the Dead Apple Official Guidebook “Mist Records”: “Follow the guidance of God’s hand”, as translated by @looking-for-stray-dogs here, or “Let the hand of God guide you”, according to the BSD wiki. It seems Fyodor’s character is connected once again to the symbol of the hand, specifically the manus Dei or dextera Dei, which, in art history, indicates divine intervention, divine approval, divine acceptance, as well as God’s – the Creator’s – omnipotence (see, for example, Acts, 7, 50: “nonne manus mea fecit haec omnia?” – “was it not my hand that created all these <things>?”). The hand of God can not only refer to God (the Father) himself, but also to God (the Son), appointing him to his right hand’s side (as prophecized), which means divinely appointing him as both his “representative” and “equal” (“sede a dextris meis donec ponam inimicos tuos scabillum pedum tuorum”, which, mot-a-mot, would go something like this: “sit to my right hand’s side until I put your enemies as the footstool of your feet”, which is Psalm 109, 1 in the Biblia Vulgata, a verse invoked by Christ himself in Matthew, 22, 44, marking a fascinating continuity between the Old and the New Testament). So, considering this information, the expression “the hand of God and demon”, referring to the subject or entity who “wills” whatever it wills, establishes not only a connection, but a shocking equality between the nouns “God” and “demon”, as the hand belongs to both of them. By definition, the two nouns cannot be synonyms, under no condition, thus the subject of the action makes no valid sense and cannot be an actual conceivable “being” without an external reader’s interpretation (like this one I am trying to unfold). Following on that, what can exist or be conceived in the human mind is someone or something whose “being” implies the contradictory yet inseparable coexistence of someone / something that possesses godly traits and someone / something that possesses demonic traits. Therefore, I interpret the expression “the hand of God and demon” as referring to Fyodor himself, or, more precisely, Fyodor’s existence, which implies him and his ability together, where one represents the “god” and the other the “demon”, although it is still unclear which is which. Given all this, I propose the theory that Fyodor is a singularity, just like Dazai (continuing in the spirit of @beans-beneath-moonlight​​ ‘s theory post I referenced before).

Moving on from the singularity discussion, based on Dead Apple’s “I am crime. I am punishment” scene once again, one can only be certain that the link between “sin”, “ability” and “punishment” becomes even stronger, but apparently so does the link between “human” and “crime”. It is no surprise that the famous nouns of the literary work are used for this scene, nouns that can refer to both the active and the passive component of the implied action (commiting a crime vs being the victim of a crime; applying punishment vs receiving punishment). This begs the questions: would freeing the world of abilities also liberate Fyodor of his own punishment (whatever it is, if it exists at all)? does “freeing” the world of abilities even imply “killing” the gifted, and if yes, would that lead Fyodor to a final act of self-sacrifice (or, closer to the etimology of the word “sacrifice”, an act of making the offered thing sacred – himself in this scenario, together with all the gifted)? If we take into account how Fyodor concluded that he and newly “scouted” member Nathaniel Hawthrone “will cover this land in the blood of the sinners” (ch37), together with what Fyodor said as he and Karma looked at Ace’s hanged corpse (ch42, Fyodor: “Thinking is a crime. Breathing is a crime”, or, in the anime’s dub, S3ep4, “Crime starts with thought. As natural as breathing”, emphasizing the naturality of whatever Fyodor identified as humanity’s “crime”), as well as what Nathaniel chanted as he was on his assassination jobs (ch46, to Fukuzawa: “Death! Death! Death to the skill users! An eternal underground sleep with no awakening!”, as well as ch46, to Akutagawa: “Death! Death! Death to the skill users! … To revive my beloved, I must execute the contract of death”), then we have canon ground to believe the death of all gifted is necessary after all, yet Fyodor never uses such expression. It is always “freeing”, “offering the salvation of death to the evil” (note how he does not say “the gifted”), “granting the great silence”, like in how Fyodor talks to Karma in S3ep4: “All evils that plague this world will receive the mercy of death”, “I will do you the honour of granting you the great silence”, “May you be free from the shackles of your crimes, and your soul be salvaged”. This raises another problem: Fyodor himself, as he says, applies cleansing, purification, salvation, liberation, but his ability clearly refers to these acts as “punishment” instead, which is a completely different concept in a religious context as well. So far, once again, this marks a divergence between Fyodor and his ability, another clear moment when the ability seems to behave like a different entity than its user, with a different perception of what the ability itself does (one possibility being, what to Fyodor is “freeing”, to his ability is “punishment”, or that his ability’s “punishment” is a “cleansing” or “freeing” in a corrupted sense of the words). As a closing remark regarding Fyodor’s goal in general, there is still a lot of room to speculate on its true nature if we consider the possibility of Fyodor opposing not the Agency, nor the Port Mafia, but first and foremost the military and different governments who 1) already have a bloody history of using ability users in the war (as implied by Yosano’s backstory and the bits of Fukuchi’s backstory), 2) had (and might still have) special laboratories researching and even artificially creating ability users or researching ways to exploit singularities (BSD Storm Bringer), 3) may have massproduced abilities of specific destructive types, according to one war story of Fukuchi’s past merits (ch82, when we are told he led an operation to eliminate 100.000 “skill-based ‘werewolf’ test subjects”, with Teruko and Jouno visible alongside Fukuchi in the panel describing this – one hundred thousand “test subjects”! for what?), 4) was aware of or working according to an entire skill doctrine, already developed and, I assume, generally-known at the time Mori used Yosano, a mere child, as his slave to achieve his Immortal Regiment plan, meant to prove that abilities are indeed suitable for use in war (ch65). In relation to this, we could take into account the possibility of Fyodor being repulsed by Ace’s behaviour in ch42 (as suggested by certain expressions of Fyodor in the manga), given that Ace represented the perfect example of someone using other people without any consideration of the weight of their lives, their personhood and their inner world. If this is the “evil” that Fyodor wants to purge from this world, and if making abilities disappear, one way or another, would make him accomplish this “greater good” (ending the use and abuse of ability users worldwide), then we are all the more justified in weighing the morality of anyone involved in this large scheme, starting with those implied in Natsume’s Tripartite Framework, supposed to maintain peace in Yokohama (the Armed Detective Agency, the Port Mafia, and the Special Division for Special Powers together with the military police). Besides this, how he phrased his goal in ch46 draws attention to how he identifies at least two different “sins” in current mankind: 1) that they consciously ignore the fact that they are controlled, and 2) that they keep killing each other regardless of said knowledge (ch46, Fyodor: “Man is sinful and foolish. Even if they know it is all an artifice, they cannot help but kill each other. Someone must purify them for those sins”). Based on this, one can assume he wants to stop people from killing each other, by itself a noble goal, but a backstory is much needed to understand the real nature of it before applying judgement. Personally, based on the current status of the manga, I am neutral on this while keeping it in mind, because Fyodor’s higher goal is still ambiguous, and one should not sugarcoat him, nor paint him as a pure demon just yet. After all, all BSD characters are extremely nuanced, and tastefully so. If we also take into consideration his profile page from the BSD Season 3 guidebook (see @ahli-stuff​​ ’s post here) and how he considers his strength “wishing for world happiness” and his favorite type of person “someone who loves all humanity equally”, we can further wonder if Fyodor will be revealed as a character who genuinely cares the most about all of humanity, with a love that may or may not have become dark till present time, or a love that demanded and still demands the cruelest sacrifices.

H. Soft, discreet, graceful, yet playfully dramatic. His body language in the manga, in comparison to the anime

There are many differences between the manga representation and the anime representation of Fyodor’s body language, not to mention the representation of his character overall. I suggest we treat the manga and the anime (this includes Dead Apple) separately and leave the creation of a clear list of the converging and diverging points for another potential post. I shall begin this section with the following statement, in hope of leading anime-only BSD fans to the truth: soft Fedya is real, because canon Fedya is soft. In the manga, Fyodor’s postures and gestures convey gentleness, discreetness, grace and fragility, in multiple instances I shall present below, in a random order.

MANGA. Being considerate. Speaking of discreetness and being considerate, let’s list a few examples of that. In ch42, when Fyodor’s ability activated to kill Karma, causing blood to shoot from Karma’s face, Fyodor did not look at the dying child, turning to face him only after he died, which can be interpreted as an act of respect for Karma’s intimacy during his final moments (see section B for a more in-depth analysis of Karma’s demise). Another occasion when Fyodor’s consideration was evident is in ch49 and how he took off his shoes and coat when entering Katai’s house (basic common manners, even though we must admit this is still bizzare in the context of breaking into a house to shoot someone, but read on), while the anime portrayed him fully-clothed, with his boots on (S3ep10), thus (what can I even say) disrespectful and uncaring of the cleanness of the (nonetheless wild and messy) house of his intended victim (in the end, not too surprising coming from the man who calls even his vampire slave with honorifics, “Chuuya-san”, in ch101, but also his abducted prisoner “Katsura-san” in ch47; for BSD uses of honorifics and nicknames, check this post here, but keep in mind that it covers info till ch87). His consideration of cleanness is also supported by the fact that Fyodor hid his ushanka in a clean, empty wooden box during his mission to stab Mori and infect him with Pushkin’s virus (ch46), yet the anime replaced the wooden box with a dumpster (S3ep8), setting the fandom down a cursed path of tasteless spamjokes basically.

Gentle touch of minimum intrusiveness. In the manga, the hand position when Fyodor is about to use his ability on someone also conveys gentleness and minimum intrusiveness (barely touching the forehead, using the tips of his index and middle fingers). Even the movement towards the forehead appears slow and elegant, thus even more sinister (for more on this hand gesture and its meanings, see section A). In the anime, however, this hand gesture is replaced by one that makes more physical contact with the other person, obstructing their view and breathing while being uncharacteristically intrusive: instead of Fyodor discreetly touching Karma’s forehead like in ch42, in S3ep4 Karma’s face is fully covered by Fyodor’s palm, which looks uncomfortable, unnatural and oppressive. Another revelant portrayal here, one that also conveys Fyodor’s overall gentleness in gestures, is present in ch64’s cover art: in contrast to Dazai, who holds his white pawn between his thumb and index + middle finger, Fyodor holds his black pawn between his thumb and middle + ringfinger, which, if reenacted, distinguishes itself by how Fyodor is using the least amount of pressure possible to lift the chess piece (thus very graceful), and so we have Dazai, who “takes” the piece and moves it insisting on a more secure grip, contrasting with Fyodor who “guides” the piece, letting it gently hang between his fingers as it is swayed following Fyodor’s movements.

High physical endurance. Despite his frail body, we can safely assume Fyodor has high endurance and vitality, given how he did not even flinch when Ace smashed a full wine bottle in his head (ch42) and how he let himself get captured and be kept in harsh prison conditions at least twice (ch42, ch54) before ending up in Meursault. There is also how he ran away from Mori and Elise (ch46) without gasping or showing fatigue afterwards. More canon material is still needed in order to establish how accurate or severe his self-proclaimed anemic condition is (ch42, “My body is weak and anemic”) or his low blood pressure (BSD Season 3 guidebook, but I only had access to this info via this post here and would greatly appreciate someone confirming this).

Oratory skills and expressive hand gestures. In the manga, Fyodor is always highly expressive in what regards his hand gestures during speeches, yet in a practical and elegant way, implying he has great oratory skills or training, besides excellent communication and manipulation skills (discussed in section C and pretty much all others). In ch42: Fyodor clapped as his card game with Ace ended, thus expressing joy through words and action; Fyodor pretended to be taken aback by Ace having listened to his and Karma’s talk, scratching his head in a wide-open gesture, conveying surprise and acknowledgement of Ace’s skills; Fyodor put a hand to his chest when telling Ace he has trained himself for “battles of starvation”, this gesture emphasizing the personal aspect of the information he offered, which this gesture implies is wholehearted and sincere. In ch46, while explaining his strategy and his way of thinking to Dazai, Fyodor uses various hand gestures to illustrate his phrases as well: extended arm explaining; hand pointing towards Dazai; explaining his higher goal with open palms in front of him, but close to his body, suggesting solemnity and confessed determination; sadly, all these gestures were replaced in the anime with Fyodor just holding his ushanka to his chest, conveying the same type of message as when he held his hand to his chest in front of Ace in ch42, as I described a few phrases above; still, at least in S3ep4 anime Fyodor gesticulated a lot while talking to Ace before the latter’s suicide, following ch42 pretty closely). In ch55, after entering Mushitaro’s basement prison cell, as Fyodor was revealing his intention behind freeing Mushitaro, he raised both hands to his chest, his fingers resting on each side of his heart, a gesture meant to suggest utmost sincerity. After that, still in ch55, when informing Mushitaro on the change of his condition (Mushitaro was captive, “but that ends today”, as Fyodor said), he held his right index finger to his lips, in a mischievous display of secrecy and child-like playfulness. This same gesture can have sinister undertones as well, given how it already appeared in ch47 in this way, where it is suggested, in a flashback background, that Fyodor did the same gesture when asking fake Pushkin to convey the “No changing the rules” message to the Agency, and they found this out after the death of the children. Lastly, these oratory skills can be used in playfully dramatic ways too, like in ch64, when Fyodor switched to the discourse of an overly-expressive, lively host of a (talk)show, as he suggested Dazai to participate in his “All-smiles Problem-solving Roooooundtable, hosted by yours truly, Dostoyevsky”, tilting his head further and further to his right as Dazai expressed growing confusion at first. About Fyodor tilting his head and what it means, see the paragraph below. So, all these scenes point to the fact that Fyodor gesticulates a lot, especially for emphasis and expressiveness during speeches or conversations, or for the fun of the dramatic effect.

Curiosity and tilt of the head. In conversational circumstances, we often see Fyodor tilting his head to his side. In his case, this is an expression of curiosity, in the sense of being (or wanting to appear to be) genuinely interested in the other person’s answers. Note that the simple tilt of the head to one’s side can also express endearment towards the thing one looks at (in genuine concern or admiration of something beautiful or dear, for example), but, combined with oratory skills – which Fyodor possesses as a master of communication – this can be a very effective tool that translates into non-verbal emotional manipulation. To give a few examples, Fyodor tilted his head 1) when he asked Sigma if he wished for a home (ch75), 2) when he replied to Nikolai capturing the essence of his inner conflict (ch78), 3) when greeting (and even bowing to) Mushitaro in the basement, just before offering him a deal to escape (ch55). In all these cases, the persons Fyodor was conversing with were already in a vulnerable situation (Sigma wandering in desperation, Nikolai presenting his inner struggle, Mushitaro being held captive), and thus Fyodor made sure to bind each of them to himself, planting the seeds of dependency by offering them validation and emotional response. Moreover, as a gesture of (apparent) trust, if someone tilts their head to the side, they present themselves in a vulnerable position (the neck area is open), subtly conveying the message that the other person is in a position of superiority, deepening the trap that, in Fyodor’s case, ends with the other people becoming dependent on him as the “benign” manipulator. Still, because of the display of vulnerability, the tilt of the head in itself is a gentle, humbling gesture, very fitting for Fyodor, whose character presence builds on the inexplicable tension between the terror and apprehension brought by his vast intellect and unknown powers, and the humility and gentleness of his speech and body language. The fact that, as of now, we still cannot draw a firm line and say from where to which point Fyodor’s gestures and words are genuinely benevolent or actually malevolent, so he remains beyond good and evil, and fascinatingly so, until more of his character or backstory is revealed. As a last example of Fyodor tilting not his head, but his entire body as an expression of curiosity, in ch42, finding Ace’s vault, Fyodor did exactly that and approached it together with a curious look (eyes opened wider, eyebrows raised), asking Karma something to which Fyodor already knew the answer probably anyway (“Oh, is this it? The vault where ace holds his jewels temporarily, to prevent a price collapse?”) and still Fyodor asked Karma because, I assume, having a conversation made the discovery simply more fun for the moment.

Biting his fingertips and nails. In ch42, Fyodor is seen biting his fingertips in three different panels, and yet the anime (S3ep4) never shows him doing this. Later on, we never see him biting his fingertips “on screen”, but “behind the scenes” he has been continuously doing so even up to the most recent chapter. Looking closely, you can see how his fingertips and nails are damaged and rough even at Meursault, for example, in ch95, when Fyodor is passing Dazai the salt, or in ch101, when Fyodor is inputting security codes to unlock prison doors. Of course, among other things, this habit indicates a Crime and Punishment novel reference, which should be discussed in a different post, and has in fact been discussed in nice posts by other BSD fans already. This aside, unlike his depiction in Dead Apple, manga Fyodor consistently keeps his hands ungloved.

Surprise and adrenaline rush. Other than the moments when his face shows curiosity, in the manga Fyodor’s composure appears to break rather often to express surprise, usually when 1) an brilliant move was made by an adversary team or someone else, but more recently also when 2) the enemy team made a move faster than Fyodor expected. In several of these occasions, his shock is accompanied by what seems to be delight, and I would interpret this as Fyodor enjoying the adrenaline rush of near-death situations (Nikolai’s prison game, introduced in ch95.5 / ch96, to which both Fyodor and Dazai reacted in a grimly ecstatic way) or general “end of the road” scenarios (Dazai and Fitzgerald “catching” him in ch53, although Mushitaro revealed that Fyodor’s capture was intentional in ch54: “And I… can never be forced to reveal the reason Dostoyevsky let them capture him!”). Now, for the second type of surprise, the clearest examples are Fyodor’s ch101 reactions to being cornered by Dazai and the prison room starting to get filled by heavy water. His expressions there do betray true shock, as much as his stare at the end of ch101 expresses true boiling anger and determination, but one must note that, despite letting his composure break, Fyodor may have already anticipated Dazai’s moves, and the true source of his surprise was Dazai executing said moves sooner than anticipated by Fyodor (for example, when the code input device explodes in front of Fyodor’s face, after an initial shocked expression, his eyes regain a look of steel, rationalizing “he got the circuit already”). In any case, for most insight on the whole ch101 situation and the in-context implications of this “already”, I recommend checking out @videogamelover99​​ ’s post here on, well, basically Dazai being too Dazai for his own good, or @vampireonastick​​ ’s post here for more discussion on the whole ch101 situation).

ANIME. The anime went with a different characterization of Fyodor entirely so far (as of now, November 2022, the anime has 3 completed seasons, and the trailer for January 2023’s season 4 revealed enough to see the anime’s characterization for Fyodor has not changed at all). In the anime, instead of being soft and discreet, Fyodor is confident, audacious and, I would say, stereotypically evil and creepy, whereas in the manga his sinister side comes to the reader’s eyes as a result of all the subtleties his behaviour and schemes imply, as well as a result of the contrast between his gentle appearance and his unnerving actions and plans, as I already wrote above. For example, in S3ep8, anime Fyodor smirked daringly at Mori after he stabbed the Mafia boss, seemingly enjoying it, yet in the manga Fyodor kept a blank face. Since various other differences between the manga and the anime were already discussed before this point of my essay, I propose an analysis of Fyodor’s body language in Dead Apple specifically, which goes hand in hand with his portrayal in the anime, and therefore differs significantly from the soft Fyodor we get to know in the manga.

Secrecy. In Dead Apple, in the first scene that reunites Shibusawa, Dazai and Fyodor, we see Fyodor approaching their table with confident steps and hands in what appears a rather tight grip, as opposed to letting his fingers comfortably open on each side of his body. This could express repressed or hidden intentions, as his fingers, in a fist, cover his palms and do not allow a completely relaxed stance. Next, unlike Dazai, Fyodor does not cross his legs when at the table, he instead positions both his feet firmly and perpendicularly on the ground, which conveys confidence as well, and is meant to assert total control of the room. When putting his arms on the table, he intertwines his fingers and rests his chin on his joined hands. This is a meditative position, suggesting a serious thought process going on behind his puzzling smile (again, suggesting confidence), as well as careful planning, or simply waiting for things to happen as he planned beforehand. His closed eyes shut down the world outside him, we could interpret this as logical in this situation if Fyodor has already predicted and planned everything through, which the movie suggests was indeed the case. The outside world is not as necessary to see in that case, plus he is surrounded by people who will not act impuslively and threaten each other out of the blue, so a sense of blind trust stays between the three strategists. One last thing to note about this scene is the fact that only Shibusawa and Fyodor are facing each other, while Dazai is facing no one, which may subtly suggest the personal bond between Shibusawa and Fyodor, one that Dazai does not share with anyone in the room, or (arguably) anyone at all after Odasaku’s death.

Confidence. In Dead Apple, Fyodor’s pose conveys confidence when Shibusawa shows Dazai the Draconia room (Fyodor is seen with his left hand on his waist, in contrapposto); Fyodor’s pose conveys having hidden motives when he and Dazai entered the Draconia room in secret (Fyodor has his back turner to both Dazai and the viewers, with his hands in his coat’s pockets; Fyodor’s pose conveys confidence AND having hidden motives when Shibusawa surprisingly stabs Dazai, followed by Dazai asking Fyodor “Didn’t you lock the door?” (Fyodor has his hands in his pockets, but also smirks and chuckles at Dazai while looking down to him, with Fyodor’s chin slightly raised).

A playful mind. As to what regards Fyodor’s playful mind, it is made more or less evident through Fyodor’s play of words and sharp, intelligent replies (see section E for his love for entertainment specifically). In Dead Apple, as the singularity event unfolds, Fyodor told a shocked Shibusawa that he will “fill in all the blanks” for him: Fyodor added “I’ll even tell you what was cut out”, proceeding to cut Shibusawa’s throat immediately after. This is a splendid play of word and action, coordinating them in a twisted sense of playfulness, indulging michievously in living a life entertaining for himself. But seriously, for more on Fyodor and his sense of entertainment, see section E above, it would be superfluous to repeat ideas here.

– – –

11 November 2022. At last, we arrived at the end of this essay. The end for now at least, as I could technically add more analysis and external references in the future, if my irl schedule allows it. Since January 2022 I’ve been working on this “thing” I jokingly called “marriage proposal PhD”, because why not, this is an accurate example of how an ENTP proposes to an INTJ, where understanding the other (or continuously trying to) is peak intimacy and love. I guess. However, I “yeeted” my emotions out while I was writing this, because nothing would have angered me more than my appreciation of this character clouding my judgement or making me err in my pursuit of the many subtleties that lead to his many paradoxical traits. Whether I will update this post or not in the future, I cannot promise. This post is intended to be my last contribution to the BSD fandom, but my ask box remains open for futher discussions on BSD or other media analysis. I doubt fans will read everything I wrote, and I am certain the fandom will perpetuate the cycle of Fedya’s mischaracterization despite my best efforts to bring many canon scenes showing different sides of him into the spotlight. 

Yes... Despite everything, I am at peace. I thought no media could revive my passion for analysis anymore, no character could make me draw fanart again, and yet... and yet!... Fedya is exactly the type of character one can analyze ad infinitum and feel thrilled at each discovery, at each little possible implication of a word or gesture. No matter how tranquil he may seem, no matter how certain we may be at first of his exterior serenity, for everything his character encapsulates, for everything we know and don’t know about him thus far, Fyodor’s soul is likely vessel to an incredible inner tension, origin of his determination. As I was writing more and more, I discovered he is intense, so truly intense, and that intensity has brought me… and brings me... and will bring me

boundless bliss.

Happy birthday, радость моя.

#bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd analysis #bsd meta #bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor dostoyevsky #bungou stray dogs fyodor #bsd fyodor analysis #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs analysis #bsd character analysis #character analysis #analysis #unsolved and endless #beauties and gentlebeauties this is Lav's Fedya essay #please note that with a single reveal in the manga Fedya could make this entire thing come crashing down and I love this possibility #truly in-character till the end #Nov2022: my only regret is that I still had 100+ bsd analysis posts saved to read through and perhaps add more in-fandom refs to this #even when my and OP's analysis align only regarding 1 idea or 2 I find it highly valuable to cross-reference and communicate #I've seen both crueler takes and softer takes on Fedya's character - and some takes that have no solid canon ground as well #I value them all because discussion is important and it builds our minds - but mischaracterization should be recognized as such #I hope that in the future I can update this essay with more references to express my gratitude towards the analysis part of the fandom too #till then I hope the readers of this enjoyed it and know that I am open for discussion in the replies or ask box #even if it will take me a while to answer

[shurisneakers]

how do i write something thats exactly like the thing i just wrote. but not

#im talking about harmless #the lack of a plot. the crackhead energy. #i need the serotonin and ive been shuffling through ideas trying to find something that has potential. #AND AFTER MONTHS. M O N T H S. #i got it. #ghosthunting au. like buzzfeed unsolved with a skeptic barnes and a believer reader. #there is a ghost right in front of his face and it is blowing wind and hissing at him and he is like. fake #the possibilities are endless #ari talks #unwritten #unwritten fics

[ghorestes]

dreamling au where hob is a ghost hunter and morpheus is his secretly-a-cosmic-entity partner pls

#dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #buzzfeed unsolved never dies actually

[doll3tt33]

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ♡

(colin zabel x under arrest!reader)

Summary: once again, you find yourself being arrested by Colin, adding to his piling stress from an unsolved case. However, you discover that a tiny favor for the detective might bring him some much needed cheer…

Wordcount: 5.7k

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), car sex, coaxing, reader is under the influence of alcohol, brief mention of a bar fight, aggressive and rude reader, rly vague implied age gap, technically abuse of authority (it’s obvious, but I’m still putting it out there. I advise not to read if any of this makes you uncomfortable)

A/N: sorry for the major inactivity guys, I’ve been busy! And this fic ended up being longer than I expected, but I hope it’s good enough quality. My first ever smut, so hope u guys enjoy <3 (also sorry if any typos btw T^T)

You stood motionless, reeling from the adrenaline coursing through your veins as the alcohol's effects faded. The rush of emotion receded to an eerie calm. As your vision adjusted in the dim light, the scene came into focus - onlookers surrounded you and a woman now being helped from the floor. Through the buzz still clouding your mind, one detail emerged with painful clarity: her bruised and bloodied face, a stark reminder of the harm just caused in a moment of impaired impulse and from your god awful temper.

Now the woman who you beaten black and blue, almost to the point of passing out, wasn't the focal point for dispelling the haze of your impulsive rage. Nah, this lady had it coming when she slut shamed you for being oh-so-bold enough to wear a tank top tonight. No, it was the bright flashing hues of blue and red seeping through the windows that acted as your wakeup call.

Just like that, a realization hit with sobering clarity - “Shit. Cops.” Without pause, you shoved through the crowd, desperation driving every move. Bursting through the door, the frigid night air raised goosebumps across your skin. Damnit, maybe the tank top wasn’t the best choice after all. Intoxicated or not, you were in no shape for an arrest. Stumbling at first, you found your footing and picked up speed, putting distance between yourself and the scene of the incident you started. You were gonna make it through! You were gonna outrun those pigs and they would never get their grubby hands onto you!

…That was until, a loathsome voice sounded from behind.

“Hey- hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Before you knew it, you felt hands locked around your arms, yanking you to a halt. The telltale jingle of metal broke through your panic and with a sharp click, cold steel encircled your wrists. A glance back confirmed your dread. You weren’t being handcuffed by just any stinking cop - it was that good for nothing detective Colin Zabel arresting you once more, and for what, the third time this week? That’s one hell of a streak.

You sighed inwardly, the fight draining from your limbs, knowing any attempt in resisting would be in vain. “Goddammit Zabel, can’t you give it a rest?…” you muttered under your breath, as he hauled you back to the police car.

"I know, I know - save your excuses," Colin cut you off wearily, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Jus’… don’t start, ‘Kay? Do me a solid and quietly get in the car.” He opened the car door to the backseat, gesturing for you to step inside. Despite his perpetual mask of affability, you detected an edge of irritation - his good humor and patience clearly worn down by your repeated encounters.

“Whatever man…” you sighed as the door clamped shut with finality. Through the window you watched Colin slip into the driver's seat, releasing a long exhale as if to shed the stress of your latest encounter. At least you provided some diversion from his endless paperwork, though you doubted he'd admit as much.

True to his by-the-book nature, he slinked the seatbelt over himself, securing it with an assured click. Out of habit, he craned his neck over his shoulder, asking out of the goodwill of his heart. “Oh! Almost forgot. Do ya need a lil’ hand with fastening your seatbelt too?“ he offered warmly, “Don’t want any extra accidents happening tonight, am I right or am I right?” A hearty chuckle followed, dying abruptly once he took in your expression - eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line.

“Fuck off Zabel.” you growled in response, fixing your stare out the window. He felt tension coil in his gut but forced it down with a hard gulp. As a veteran officer, he had faced far worse than you, yet something about your unpredictable defiance unsettled him. For a moment, under your glare, an angry retort rose to his lips but he bit it back, sensing it would only stoke the flames. Best to let the dust settle, he decided. Starting the car, he pointedly kept his eyes forward and drove in loaded silence.

“Alriiiighty then, no seatbelt it is. I’m just gonna… ah- y’know….” He cleared his throat, voice petering off into a nonsensical mumble as he shifted gears.

An uncomfortable hush fell over the car, only the revving of the engine permeating the stillness. Colin tapped the wheel, wishing for a distraction from the tension. His mind raced through possible conversation starters but came up blank. A stolen glance in the mirror found your stony profile unchanged. With a sigh, he focused back to the road, flicking on the radio more for the static noise than any musical preference.

Colin hummed softly to fill the silence, earning another kick from the backseat - your fourth such outburst. He was the pinnacle of what it meant to be a pushover, but he still stood his ground when needed to… in his own unique way. “H-Hey, Cut it out kid! And be nice,” he let out a weary sigh, peeking up at your vexed form through the rearview mirror “You know, I’m not a fan of this attitude you’ve got going on. Haven’t been for the past week.”

You sank lower into the seat, glowering. “First of all, old man, lay off the ‘kid’ crap. I’m not a child.” You rolled your eyes at his feeble attempt at reprimand.

Colin bit back another retort, clenching his jaw. Pride demanded he have the last word, if only to reclaim a shred of dignity in his own vehicle. “Hm no, I think I’ll call you a kid. ‘Cause you know why? You’re acting like one, like right now.” he replied evenly, bubbling frustration leaking through his amicable veneer, yet he still maintained some semblance of civility between him and your not-so-good of a temper.

As you drew your breath to speak, Colin beat you to it. “Look- all I’m sayin’ is, this isn’t good for you. This is the third time this week I’m haulin’ you in here. The third time!” Weariness tinged his laughter as he splayed his fingers out in front of him, only to reclaim the steering wheel in a swift motion. “Not only is this not doing you any favors kid—-“

“I said don’t call me kid.” You interjected sharply, cutting him off this time.

Colin continued on autopilot, fatigue chipping away at his usual cheer. “It's also not doing me any favors either. I've got a case to crack, but Mare - my partner - thought it’d be best if I dealt with you while she took charge of the investigation for the night…”

His shoulders slumped, eyes downcast as a cloud of disappointment settled in. As a county detective, he longed to prove himself with this investigation, not play referee to petty disputes. But saying no had never come easy, especially when others mistook his calm demeanor as weakness.

Silently, your eyes veered away from the passing scenery outside the car window, finally taking notice of his careworn features in the mirror. Attuned to the new lines of fatigue etched upon his face, you perhaps began to understand that this was wearing him too.

“Must suck being everyone’s errand boy.” You observed, tone lacking its usual bite.

Colin offered a tired nod. “Comes with the job, I guess…” his words trailed off, accompanied by a somber tone as his gaze returned to the road. “But y’know what they say- it is what it is.” he added softly, punctuating the statement with a self deprecating laugh.

Surprisingly, a twinge of sympathy tugged at your heart - a rare reaction to the shithead county detective. For all his attempts at camaraderie, which admittedly grated, you had to respect his resilience in the face of your unrelenting hostility. Hell, that time you clocked him during arrest, most would've thrown the book - but not Colin. His patience and optimism seemed a superpower, weathering your worst without breaking stride.

A strange blend of sympathy and guilt surged through you, as the realization struck you hard like a freight train - you had subjected the poor detective to a relentless barrage of undeserved hardship, oblivious to the weight of his personal burdens. Your chest tightened, and a foreign sensation stirred deep within as the reflection in the rearview mirror held your gaze captive.

The need for redemption gnawed at your conscience, but how could you possibly make things right? You've been a real pain in the ass to him for a good while now. Within the depths of your alcohol-induced haze, a daring idea began to take shape - could you perhaps make amends through a little bit of... shared pleasure?

It was pure insanity. Drunken impulses (and drunken you) are the epitome of idiocy. Vivid images flooded your thoughts, projecting the sheer horror that would contort his face if you dared to make a move now. It was likely that he hadn't experienced the touch of a woman in quite some time. And yet, that was precisely the point. The poor guy may have been deprived of any intimate encounters since his fiancée abruptly left him, and the growing urge within compelled you to do something about it.

Undeterred, an unwavering determination fueled your decision to make a bold move and test the waters. Shattering the silence, you adopted an uncharacteristically sweet tone to conceal your true intentions. "Hey Colin, think I could sit up front? It's kinda cramped back here."

Colin glanced over, clearly skeptical of your politeness given past rides. "Not sure that's protocol..." he began, ever the rule-follower.

Your lips formed a slight pout, an innocent plea. "Aw c’mon, I'm starting to feel queasy. Just to the station, what's the harm?"

“Uhh….”

Colin's head snapped in your direction, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized your expression. Despite his suspicion, a flicker of genuine concern crossed his face. The thought of you unleashing your 'gastric distress' all over his car seemed to be a genuine fear he really wanted to avoid. He did not need an extra pukefest tonight.

Reluctantly, he caved in to your request, his voice colored with a mix of resignation and caution. "Ah, jeez... Look, you're not supposed to sit in the front, but fine, I'll make an exception this time." He maneuvered the car to the side of the road, stepping out to open the door for you. As you settled into the passenger seat, he retook his place beside you.

"Jus' promise me you won't end up throwing up in the car, 'cause I'm not looking forward to cleaning up that mess." With a playful smirk, he wagged his finger at you, but there was an underlying seriousness to his words.

"Chillaaaax, Colin. Don’t even worry, you won't see me hurling tonight. I've got it all under control," you declared, gracing him with a reassuring smile. The unexpected warmth of your expression caught him off guard, contrasting sharply with your usual snarky demeanor and the piercing death stares he had grown accustomed to.

However, Colin’s initial reservations melted away, reciprocating the gesture as a warm smile played across his face. He resumed his position behind the wheel, ready to continue the drive. But just as he was about to press the gas pedal, you captured the moment and took action. It was officially reckless business o’ clock. You sank down from the car seat, your knees grazing along the surface as you shifted toward the detective.

Colin's eyes widened comically, his mouth agape, utterly taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. "K-Kid, what on earth are you—"

Cutting him off, your slurred words emerged with a hushed urgency. "Shush. And I told you not to call me kid. Just wait, let me..."

Your words trailed off as you grappled with the cramped space of the car. Hindered by the handcuffs that still restricted your movement, you struggled to find a way to support yourself without the use of your arms. Nonetheless, you persevered, inching your way beneath the steering wheel and between Colin's legs.

You released a sigh of relief as you settled comfortably onto your knees. “Phew! Crawling around is no walk in the park without some arms. Anyways...”

“Hi.” An impish grin spread across your face, your eyes flickering upwards, locking with his apprehensive gaze.

“Wow hi, haha!“ his smile, already awkward, stiffened further as he involuntarily sunk deeper into the car seat, attempting to create as much distance as possible between the two of you. “So um… is everything okay? I mean, what’s happening right now? What are you… doin’ down there, specifically?” His words tumbled out, laden with confusion and a touch of concern.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you giggled, thoroughly amused by the sight of the detective squirming uneasily in his seat. A delicate flush of pink tinted his cheeks, a detail that didn't escape your notice. Your voice dropped into a low purr as you continued, relishing in the tension that swirled between you. “Weeeell... I had this little thought, you see. I wanted to make amends. You know, for being such a pain to you over the past few weeks."

A coy little shrug followed your words, as if you were merely toying with the idea. “And I figured, what better way than to help my favorite detective relieve summa his stress off his shoulders.”

You awaited his response with a wide grin, but all that greeted you was a dumbfounded Colin, his face now aflame with a deep shade of crimson blush, eyes wide and unblinking. The sound of his breathing, short and heavy, filled the tense silence, leaving you to wonder if perhaps you had made him uncomfortable. Although a certain part of his body seemed to betray a different sentiment, stiffened and undeniable.

As both of your gazes inadvertently dropped, your eyes locked onto a conspicuous tent forming beneath Colin's slacks. A mix of surprise and amusement flickered across your face, mirrored by the silent murmuring of the word 'crap' that escaped his lips. “Hah… that’s uh- real strange. Don’t know why that’s happening,” He gulped. “Good ol’ keys in the pocket, huh? They’re a pain, especially when they decide to stick out in weird angles. It's like, whoa, things can get a little… funny, you know? Awkward, even.” He added, his voice revealing a hint of panic as he desperately attempted to maintain his composure, all while his raging boner was in plain sight.

“Oh for god’s sake,” you groaned, impatience tracing a light furrow on your brow as the restraint of the handcuffs exacerbated your frustration. "You're not seriously trying to play dumb with me, are you?" You said, annoyance and amusement bleeding through your words. The power dynamics had shifted, leaving you unable to take the lead, and instead relying on the nervous wreck of a detective before you.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, taking in a deep breath to steady fraying nerves. Determined to take a gentler approach, you decided to navigate this delicate situation with care.

"Come on, Col..." you cooed, leaning forward as far as you could, resting your head gently on his thigh. Your voice took on a soft, persuasive tone. "Let me do this for you." With a subtle flutter of your lashes, you batted your eyes, mimicking the innocent charm of a puppy seeking its owner's attention. Colin flinched, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of your sudden touch. Yet, he remained motionless, his eyes fixed upon you in mounting suspense.

A smile curled upon your lips as you sensed his lack of immediate resistance, emboldening you to press forward with your gentle coercion. "Just once," you whispered, your voice filled with earnestness. "Let me do this once, and I promise you'll feel so much better afterward."

“..Jesus, I don’t know ‘bout this… I….” Colin mumbled, trailing off with a heavy uncertainty.

He sat frozen in place, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His bottom lip bore the marks of his nervous chewing, while his brows knitted together in a hesitant frown as he weighed his options.

He knew he shouldn't, he reaaaally should not. It was morally wrong, a breach of professionalism, and could jeopardize his career if discovered. His eyes darted frantically outside the car's windows, scanning the desolate darkness that enveloped the streets in secrecy. But technically, no one would find out, would they?

And god, it had been a long while since he had been with a woman, especially since the bitter end of his engagement. And there you were right now, on your knees, your eagerness to please him palpable. Just the sight of you pouting sent his stomach into a frenzy of uncontrollable flutters, a reaction unexpected even from someone with a volatile temper like yours.

Bewitched by your feminine wiles, he barely registered how his hand had crept onto the top of your head, his thumb caressing your scalp with a tender touch. The throbbing heat in his pants intensified, overpowering any remaining restraint. With cautious swiftness, he glanced around, scanning the surroundings for any prying eyes, before his gaze settled back on your face - your smile, a comforting anchor in the sea of his conflicting emotions.

He sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "F-Fine... Jus’ promise me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone, alright?" His hands returned to himself, fingers trembling as he loosened the clasp of his belt. The once ironclad resolve that had held him together began to crumble like fragile dust, succumbing to the pull of the moment.

“You have my word Col.” you reassured, your voice a soft murmur teeming with exhilaration.

Colin proceeded to undo his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing through the confined space. As he shoved them down, the dim glow of a distant streetlight seeped through the car window, casting a faint illumination on the scene. You couldn’t see all that clearly in the dark, but you did catch a glimpse of the outline of his cock protruding beneath his boxers, the fabric adorned with a telltale wet spot. Needless to say, he was far more excited than he was letting on.

Your mouth watered in anticipation, your core aching with need. Your senses heightened, thighs instinctively clenching as you awaited his next move. But just as Colin's thumb looped under his waistband, he hesitated, uncertainty settling over him like an icy veil. Restraints confined your hands, the itch of frustration crawling beneath your skin. In this moment, the immobility of your arms felt like a punishment far worse than being thrown into a holding cell later that night.

Unable to physically intervene, you relied on the power of your voice to guide the hesitant detective. "It's alright," you coaxed, tone laced with soothing encouragement. "Shake those nerves off, just this once. No one will ever find out..."

Colin's response came in the form of a hesitant nod - quick, uncertain, but nevertheless a nod. With painstaking slowness, he mustered the courage to give his boxers a small tug, gradually lowering them at an agonizingly slow pace. The measured movements seemed almost teasing, as if he were intentionally prolonging the moment. However, the truth was he basically personified a bundle of nerves, as though he was a schoolboy experiencing the thrill of his first make out session, unsure and skittish in his actions.

"How about we ditch these stupid handcuffs and let me take charge?" you suggested, your tone cutting through the air with an assertiveness that bordered on demand. Colin's head snapped up, surprise briefly shadowing his features as he registered the sudden shift in your demeanor and the scowl that tugged your lips. He couldn't entirely fault you for your impatience - he had been taking his sweet time with dropping his boxers. However, a part of him harbored a lack of trust, as dubious as it may sound. The restraints provided a sense of comfort and security, keeping you in check.

Colin's throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Ehh... sorry, but that's a no-can-do," he deflected your proposal with his trademark easy smile. "You understand, right? It's nothing personal. Jus’ think it's... better this way."

“Ugh…” you grunted, eyes rolling in annoyance. You relinquished your desires, holding back any further comments or demands.

After what felt like an eternity, Colin steeled his nerves enough to continue, no longer willing to delay the inevitable. In a swift motion, he grasped the waistband, sliding it down until his cock sprang free, bobbing slightly in the air. Your gaze, once fixated on the crop of brown pubic hair adorning the base, now traced the veiny pathways that ran along his thick length, leading to the swollen tip—flushed red and leaking. For a seemingly meek police detective, he sure had a nice looking dick.

You smiled as you leaned in, tilting your head closer. Your eyes, brimming with excitement, darted back and forth between his face and his erection, gauging his reaction as you tested the boundaries. Despite his initial apprehension, there was a glimmer of delight in his gaze. Encouraged by his response, you inched closer, your lips ghosting the underside of his shaft, your warm breath teasing his sensitive skin, coaxing it to twitch in response.

Colin squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the moment. “Crap, look- in case it wasn’t obvious enough, it’s been a while for me,” he blurted out shakily, already roused by the sight of your pretty lips caressing the heat emanating from his dick, sending a wave of warmth sweeping over him. His legs parted further, an unspoken invitation for you to draw nearer. “So sorry if I…. Y’know.. too early.” He stammered with urgency.

“I mean, you already look like you’re ready to burst before I even touched you,” you shrugged with a light chuckle. “But I kinda like that.” You flashed him a playful smirk.

He remained speechless, his face flustered and turned away, a deep red painting his features in the stillness of the moment.

Regardless, you took the plunge, gently pressing your lips against the sensitive underside of his cock. A soft, almost inaudible moan escaped his lips, a clear sign for you to continue. From top to bottom, you peppered his length with tender, soothing kisses. His hand immediately reached for your hair, his fingers finding solace in the roots to distract himself from cumming too fast, careful not to exert too much force and risk hurting you.

"And sorry about the whole hair-holding thing. I, uh... need something to hold onto when I'm really focused," he confessed, his bashful laughter intertwining with his words. His face still burning a deep scarlet hue, the admission both vulnerable and endearing. "Habit," he added, his lips twitching with shy sincerity.

“You can grip my hair as hard as you want. I don’t mind a little rough treatment.” you shot a wink, a giggle escaping your lips. Lowering your head, you tilted it to the side, your tongue tracing a stripe against his sensitive balls. Eagerly, you pressed your face forward, your lips latching onto one of them, suckling on it with a gentle yet insistent rhythm, each release elicited a small pop.

“Mmff!— fuck..” Colin‘s jaw went slack, a deep groan rolling off his tongue the moment your mouth made contact, his resistance melting away under the spell of your touch. His dark brown eyes dilated, glazing over your form below him. “Yeah, jus’ like that… jus’ like that…” he managed to utter out, his heaving breaths punctuated by muttered words of approval. His fingers entwined with your hair, massaging the crown of your head in a visceral gesture of pleasure.

“Ooh, you like that don’t you?” you remarked, a playful lilt in your voice as you pulled back slightly, savoring the sight of the detective's face contorting with undeniable bliss. “I wanna hear it baby, tell me how much you needed this.” You crooned, face colored with a teasing grin.

“Okay-okay fine, I won’t lie…” Colin huffed, admittance causing eyes to flutter away. Amused, you chuckled, flattening your tongue against his length, gliding it along a long and deliberate path, coaxing the rest of his words to spill out. A delicious shiver of electricity ran down his spine, sending a cascade of goosebumps rippling down his skin from his erection being teased. “Agh!- y-yes I needed this, I really… really needed this.” he babbled out, his breath hitching with the weight of his confession.

Satisfied, you continued. Your kisses swept from the base and drifted all the way up to the tip of his cock, tongue salty with precum as it expertly caressed the ridges. Colin's body quivered, responding with an urgent jerk of his hips, a wordless plea for you to take his cock into the warm and wet comfort of your mouth. You could feel the urgency in his veins buzz with an electric fervor, beckoning you to go further. For the sake of soothing him, you pressed your lips right onto the swollen head, treating him to small kitten licks on his sensitive slit.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous...” Colin moaned, teetering on the edge of a whimper. His hips bucked forward once more, ramming his tip deeper into your mouth. Each squirm of his body against the supple leather of the car seat produced a small squeak, almost serving as a subtle backdrop to the moment. “God, you scare the living crap outta me... but f-fuck, you’re sososo p-pretty!” He choked, another whimper caught in his throat.

“Mhm… that’s what I do best detective…” you mumbled with a full mouth, the warmth of his fluids clinging to your breath.

The evidence of your arousal was just as indisputable as his, your panties most definitely soaked from the act of using your mouth on the detective alone, cunt weeping from the lewd noises leaving him with each stroke. Your lips glided further down along him, accommodating his warm slickness as you relaxed your jaw. “Ohmygod- holy shit you feel so good...” he groaned. He slumped back against the backrest, head lolling over his shoulder as he fought to stifle a moan. “Ngh- so good f-for me…”

Despite the discomfort that knotted your knees and the soreness that gnawed at your back from kneeling on the unforgiving car floor longer than you should’ve (all while handcuffed too!), that fiery bundle of elation simmering in your belly powered you through it. After all, Colin was all you could focus on, eclipsing everything else. His raw groans, the incoherent praises that spilled from his mouth, and the way your name danced off his tongue like silk - it was all you needed in the moment, utterly invading every fiber of your being.

However, it wasn't just you who was losing yourself in the moment. Colin's mind short-circuited completely, overwhelmed by the mounting pleasure that had him seeing dazzling stars. Your heavenly skills had transformed his body into a molten state of arousal, practically dissolving into a puddle of liquid. In this state, his thoughts scrambled like a glitching, outdated computer, and your lack-of-hands situation compelled him to take the reins in a mindless frenzy.

"Hope ya’ don't mind if I jus’..." he mumbled hoarsely, his words stumbling out spontaneously. His hands cradled the sides of your head, anchoring you in place, hovering inches above his seat to steady his rhythm. His cock delved deeper into the confines of your throat as his hips undulated to the flow of his ragged panting. His heart galloped like a wild stallion, synchronizing with the rhythm you created, while he sunk himself further into the depths of your wet heat.

“Mmh!- ‘m almost there! Need a lil’ l-longer.” Colin sputtered out, throat straining to keep as quiet as possible. He could see the glistening of tears stinging your eyes, whimpers muffled out around him. He truly never intended to subject your poor mouth to such rough treatment, his tip bullying the back of your throat with each jerky thrust until it was sore, pushing so deep that your nose buried itself in the tufts of hair on his pelvis. Despite the guilt welling up in him, he couldn’t help himself at this point. His body was now like a machine, moving on its own accord to milk every ounce of pleasure he could get.

Even then, you didn’t even break eye contact, not even once. Not when this police detective who nursed a hidden disdain for your tempestuous presence behind faux smiles, was now coming undone right before you - His once neatly styled chestnut brown hair now clung to his sweat-drenched forehead, strands falling over his flushed, pale features. His lips, now parted and glistening, revealed a glimpse of vulnerability, while his doe eyes sparkled with a feverish glimmer. Everything about him in this moment was enthralling, leaving you no choice but to be mesmerized.

The rippling tremors jolting through Colin's frame reminded him that he was nearing his climax, fire pooling low in his abdomen ready to erupt. Between heavy panting, he plucked up the courage to voice his request, his fretful eyes scanning the confined space of the car. “Hey sooo uh- you um… y-you don’t mind if I don’t pull out… right?” he asked, vulnerability threaded through his tone. He definitely wasn’t eager to see his load spray onto anything inside his police car.

Your nose scrunched up in clear disapproval, a glare shooting daggers at him, clearly not a fan of swallowing. He clicked his tongue in disheartenment, head tilted to the side “C’mon, do me a favor will ya?… Not really lookin’ forward to making a mess in the car.” He pleaded breathlessly. To his relief, no signs of protest emerged, though a sullen mask adorned your face.

As he noticed your lack of resistance, he seized the opportunity to follow through with his words. “‘m sorry!- So sorry. I-I’ll make it up to you later. Really!” Colin bleated, tone brewing with guilt and that familiar undercurrent of pleasure.

Squeezing his eyes back shut, he rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the tightly coiled spring in his belly, yearning for release. His balls tightened, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turned sloppy. Consumed by a blinding, searing white that engulfed his senses, his mind completely blanked. With one final forceful pump, he held your head close, ropes of cum painting your mouth white. Trapped in his surprisingly strong grip, you gulped down the bitter torrent, suppressing the almighty urge to gag as your tongue battled with the assault.

Once you swallowed every last drop of his cum, Colin released his firm grip, withdrawing his now softened cock from your mouth. His hands fell limply to his sides, the air in the cramped car heavy with sweltering breaths, as though the two of you had just completed a grueling marathon on a hot summer’s day.

Gradually regaining his composure, Colin peeled his eyes open, his gaze fixed upon your chest rising and falling, your lips swollen and glistening with wetness. “Jeez uhh, are you okay?- I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Post orgasm clarity rushed over him like a gust of fresh air, his lips downturned with genuine concern. He hastily reached into his coat pocket, digging out and opening a tissue packet, gingerly dabbing away the saliva and residue from your chin and mouth.

You blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the unexpected act of care from the detective. Well, that was a first - no one had ever wiped your mouth for you after a blowjob, but then again, your hands were bound, rendering you immobile. “Yeah I’m fine, you didn’t really have to do that, but I appreciate the gesture.” you replied in a hoarse voice, head shying away from him.

Colin's face brightened with a smile, a wave of relief washing over him. You were right - the weight of his once overwhelming stress seemed to dissipate. In fact, he felt like a brand new man! It had been a long time since he had been intimate with a woman, so this encounter meant more to him than you could ever know.

In an unexpected twist, he scooped you up from the car floor, strong arms cradling your waist as he pulled you into a tight embrace, cocooning you on his lap. In that moment, the softie within him had taken over, aching to shower you with affection and gratitude for the pleasure you had shared.

Your shoulders tensed in his firm grasp, your wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and alarm. You couldn't help but wonder if he always got this sentimental after engaging in intimacy, and you couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Woooow okay, so we're hugging now huh? Someone's feeling affectionate tonight," you noted with a touch of sarcasm. Yet, despite your initial resistance, you allowed him to hold you, gradually surrendering to the warmth of his arms. Deep down, buried beneath layers and layers of pride, a part of you secretly enjoyed this, even if you'd rather be drawn and quartered than admit it.

“Yeah, hope you don’t mind. It’s jus’ that… you did such a good job.” Colin chuckled, his hand gently caressing the small of your back. “And hey, would ya’ look at that! I really do feel so much better now. So, genuinely, thank you.” His words resonated softly against the crook of your neck as he rested his chin there, his arms remaining securely wrapped around you.

You allowed the weight of the moment to sink in, basking in the warmth and tenderness enfolding you. Then, an idea suddenly sprang to mind, and you couldn't resist voicing it. “Say… since I did one hell of a job, does that maybe mean I’m off the hook now?” You pulled back, a sly brow raised as you awaited his response.

Colin let out an exaggerated huff, his smile filled with amusement as he ruffled your hair into a delightful mess. “Nope,” he replied teasingly. “You’re still getting your butt thrown into the station for the night.“

Your expectant smile swiftly dropped into a deep frown, prompting a hearty pat on the back from the detective as he erupted into a fit of laughter. “Sorry kid,” He said between chuckles. “Now chop-chop, time for you to get in the back!”

-------☆-------

I’m aware I made Colin more pathetic than he actually is and I apologize- Idk I just could resist 😭😭 Hope the aftercare made up for it tho??

🤍 only tagging one person cuz idk who else wants to be tagged:

@lacucarachapisser

#colin zabel #mare of easttown #american horror story #ahs #ahs fandom #evan peters #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel x you #colin zabel smut #tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon smut #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x y/n #kai anderson smut #kit walker #kit walker x reader #kit walker x y/n #kit walker x you #kit walker smut #kyle spencer #kyle spencer smut #kyle spencer x reader

[i984]

Your Love, My Religion

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, childhood best friend! Wednesday Addams, canon-divergence because there's no Tyler, it's Parent's Weekend but this detail is useless, Pugsley LOVES you, kissing but weird 'cuz you'll see, author is in their experimental phase.

|Summary|: It only takes half a semester away and a stupid (yet surprising) school event to get Wednesday quit being a coward.

|A/n|: This was requested by my wife @wol-fica and reposted because yesterday the tags hate me.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Bewitching.

You were that in so many ways.

And now, as Wednesday locks eyes with you from across the quad—past all the bustling crowd of students and parents of Nevermore Academy—she realizes the fact hasn't changed, not one bit.

Her foot took a step forward for her. Then another. And another. Before she knew it, she was already heading toward you—bumping and trampling past the people she couldn't care less for—her heart hammering wildly against her chest.

You've always had that effect on her.

When your parents brought you for a playdate years ago, Wednesday had locked you in one of the rooms of the Addams family mansion. But instead of crying or screaming for help, all she heard you do was mutter a small okay and bye-bye. 

And she was content to let you rot and die a slow death, but when she pressed her ear to the wood and heard your faint giggles, she had to open the door to see what had brought you glee amidst her kidnapping.

She found you—sitting with your legs crossed on the floor—petting Nero, her pet scorpion on your lap, with a fascinated look on your face.

Ever since that day, 5-year-old Wednesday Addams would invite you to playdates every week without fail with excuses like, "Nero loves your pets more than mine," or, "Nero wants you to come over."

Even after the scorpion's tragic death a year later, she allowed you to continue visiting her weekly. Your title had changed from 'playdate partner' to 'study partner' as soon as both of you went to the same elementary school, and you've been joined by the hips with the Addams girl ever since. 

The weekly visits grew into daily ones, and soon, Wednesday would spend nearly every waking hour of the day with you, filling her childhood with memories of endless thrilling adventures.

She'd never admit this to anyone, but she respects you for not judging her for who she is. Other people had called her a freak, a menace to society, and Wednesday couldn't care less about them, especially when you look at her with so much kindness and passion every time she talks about torture methods or unsolved murder cases. 

You were there when Pugsley was born, and Wednesday blames you for the tender personality his brother would later develop. In a way, you raised Pugsley just as much as she did, and it proved to earn you an unbreakable bond with the boy. 

And that's why as she gets close enough to you, she can see Pugsley standing on your side, holding your hand—a perfect mirror of the picture she had seen a thousand times growing up.

Her breathing quickens, and so do her steps; Wednesday was basically sprinting at you with butterflies in her stomach. But she didn't care because you met her halfway and embraced her with a ferocity that nearly matched hers. 

"I missed you so much," You whisper, and Wednesday swears to memorize the sweet sound. She hadn't realized how much she had missed hearing your voice until now.

"You came."

"Pugsley invited me for this Parent's Weekend thing," You mumbled into her shoulder before pulling back to look at her face properly, "I know it hasn't even been a semester since you moved, but I have to see you again."

Wednesday almost melts then and there at the intensity of your words and how you look at her with so much compassion and trust—like you knew she'd never hurt you or betray your devotion. 

And she wouldn't. Not when her lips are so close to yours, with your breath fanning her face, nose scrunched adorably. 

You look perfect, like the last time Wednesday was in the same position with you, the night before she had to leave for Jericho and this damned school that has cursed her entire being. 

Last time, she acted like the coward she was, turning her face away from your longing gaze, heart too weak to leave you if she'd kissed you goodbye. 

But now, as Fate has presented her a second chance, Wednesday grabbed your jaw and pressed her lips to yours. Unlike last time, her move was sure as she felt your soft silken lips on her chapped ones. And when you kissed her back—with the same tenderness that she finds in your eyes, words, and touch—warmth fills her pitch-black heart, luring her deeper into your spell.

She kisses you like a prayer—your lips the altar, your love her false God—and Wednesday now understands how man can sink so deep into their religions; to die for their Gods. 

Because she would die for you, kill for you, live for you, and unlike last time, she'd gladly sin over and over again, redeeming herself on the lips that perfectly match hers.

The bewitching you; her life was a living testament to that. And she'd never let you go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list is in the comments or else this post breaks.

|A/n2|: I am never posting this day of the week ever again. Also I forgot to say thank you to 700 of you! 🥲💖

Edit: NOW I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS TO MY POST HELP WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME-

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #spotify #wednesday fanfic #fanfic #fluff #my story

[aouiaa]

Who are you, really?

Outline: Love is many things; beautiful, transformative, but isn’t always like that. It can also be dangerous, deceiving, and in this case, it’s all the above for you. Can you break your morals for love?

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Modern au + Reader’s pov + No baby JJ + D and R are in their mid 30s + Established relationship + Description of violence + Mentions of death + Multiple mentions of sexual depictions + Flashback + Angst + Mentions of R being a workaholic + Fluff + Raunchy humor + Italics are R’s thoughts + The bold italics are just for narration!

Chapter one -> Next Chapter

The loud sound of something being slammed on your desk disrupted your “eye rest” break. Startled, your eyes subconsciously snap open to see another pile of files on your desk. Fuck, more?! And standing behind them is your boss.

Shit..

“Sleeping on the job again, I assume?” the feminine voice penetrates your eardrums.

You groan, rubbing your eye, “No, no—“ you sigh, “just resting my eyes, sorry ma’am.”

“Well resting your eyes—“ she emphasized, “—ain’t gonna solve the cases that are piling on your desk, Y/n.”

You sighed, “I know, I know, you know I wouldn’t slack off on these cases—just…need some coffee.” you responded. You need more than just coffee, you needed some fucking clarity. An explanation to tell everyone around you, but mostly for yourself. Having multiple endless sleepless nights trying to conjure up an explanation. With all these unsolved cases—or should I say horrific cases piling your desk like damn skyscrapers. How could you sleep?

From the last viewing of past crimes, you’ve seen the gruesome length, this killer isn’t afraid to tread. But this wasn't unusual for you, you’re a crime scene investigator—lead crime scene Investigator on this ongoing case—sorry. So this became the norm for you. But with the norm came responsibilities, and with responsibility came stress. This maniac has been roaming around for years now, murdering innocent victims.

Only now, their murders have been getting more brutal. Old reports stated, “victim found with multiple stab wounds to the chest area” to now reporting, finding them with stab wounds and or either their “abdomens gutted” or “limbs missing” that would be later found spread out in public spaces.

What a sick fuck.

But the one thing they were notorious for was leaving evidence. It wasn’t actually evidence to get them caught. No, They were fucking smart, you’d give them that. It was just evidence to get you and your team excited to only realize it leads to a dead end, leaving everyone frustrated. This fucker was toying with you. You were gonna make sure this asshole pays for what he did. Even if it kills you.

Because having the victims’ family belittle you and your team infuriated you. Because who were they to call you and your team quote on quote, ‘just a bunch of useless idiots sitting on their asses eating donuts?!’ My god, that’s just a fucking stereotype!—actually a glazed donut sounds good right now—

“Hey, Y/n?—Y/n!” a voice ripples through your ongoing thoughts.

“Huh?—Ahh shit!” You hiss as the scolding hot coffee lands and burns your skin. Pulling your hand to your chest and holding the irritated skin, you look behind to see your colleague, Sam.

“Shit—you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, yeah—I’m fine.” Fucking coffee, “You staying late tonight?” you ask.

“No, no, gotta get home to the missus tonight and you?” he says with a gruffy chuckle.

You chuckle as well and respond, “Uhh—no, I’m staying late tonight, gotta finish up a few things…” you say while grabbing your steaming coffee carefully and walking over to the coffee counter display. He follows slowly behind and leans against the counter beside you and replies, “Oh…alright—just be careful. These recent killings, man, they have everyone on edge.” he warns.

That warning makes you chuckle, “Trust me, I can deal with some asshole.” you reply while pouring some of the coffee out and ripping open a sugar packet, pouring the contents inside your cup. But you didnt hear him laugh along, instead a unamused sigh leaving his mouth, “Y/n—” Fuck, here we go again, “—Alright, alright, I’ll be safe, god.” you interrupt with a little chuckle to avoid an awkward moment.

He sighs, “You can’t joke around like that—“ This fucking guy “—I said I’ll be safe.” interrupting once more with a serious tone. The immediate seriousness in your voice catches him off guard, making him back off. “Alright, sorry…I’ll…see you tomorrow.” he responds sheepishly and begins to walk away as you finish making your coffee.

You turn your head to see your colleague walking away, feeling the guilt settling in your stomach—Fuck..

You didn’t mean to blow off on him like that. You’ve just been restless and so tense lately and no one can take a fucking joke. Granted, it was a shitty one, but still! Pull the sticks out your asses, guys and laugh! With a sigh, you sip your still bitter coffee—after putting in a bunch of creamers—and enter your office to resume on an unfinished report.

You were on a roll! Finishing report after report, you loved the adrenaline you got from this. You could run two fucking marathons this rush coursing through your veins. Until the sound of your alarm disturbs the high. That stupid ass Justin Bieber song starts to play; “Baby, baby, baby oh!” With a groan, you grab the noisy phone from your pocket, holding it in your hand causes the phone to light up. It gives you a better look at the alarm’s display and with the name for it above, “Time to cum home!” Upon reading the name, it causes you to laugh while turning off the alarm.

God, I love her..

Standing up from your comfortable office chair, you begin packing your belongings up and pushing aside the empty coffee cups that desperately need to be thrown out. Eh..I’ll do it later. you won’t be doing it “later”. Nonetheless, you shut off the lights and begin trudging to the main office’s elevator, pressing the call button.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket once again, you go to the message app, and texting your girlfriend, Dina. You smile at the past conversation with your lover and text her.

You wait a couple seconds for the “Delivered” receipt to turn to, “Read”, but it was a possible chance it wouldn’t since you knew tonight she was gonna stay up late working on designs for one of her clients. But the dinging sound of the elevator doors causes you to look up from your phone and walk inside. Turning off your phone and putting it back in your pocket, you press the button for the ground floor and begin your descent when that stupid ass alarm blares off again; “Baby, baby, baby oh!” You groan, immediately take out your phone to turn it off.

“Stupid ass fucking song.” you mumbled annoyedly.

Few months prior…

You walk into your shared bedroom to find your girlfriend fiddling with your phone. At first, you didn’t mind until you started hearing multiple alarm sounds coming from Dina’s direction causing you to turn around.

“Bae, what are you doing?” you ask while settling yourself down behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist, and placing your chin on her shoulder gently to look down at what she’s doing.

“Setting an alarm for you.” she replies.

Her answer elicits a chuckle and you begin to try taking your phone away from her playfully. “Dina, bae, you know I don’t need my phone to wake me up in the morning. I have the alarm clock for that.”

With every attempt to grabbing your phone results in being unsuccessful as she moves it out of your reach. “It's not for that.” she states, causing you to become even more confused.

“Oh?—what’s it for then?” you say with a cheeky smile and start to hum dramatically as if you’re thinking what it could be used for as you inquire again, “is it a reminder to eat you out—“

“Y/n!” she interrupts you, causing you to burst out laughing while she elbows your arm.

“No, you perv!” she quips with a smile, “it’s so you know when to come back from work.”

Your laughter slowly dies out and immediately giveher a look, “to stop working? babe—“

“—Ah, ah, ah, no, before you start, this is set because I know how you are.”

“anndd” you drag out, “how am I?” you ask playfully with a smirk.

She huffs, “You’re a workaholic” she bluntly says, “and tend to stay in your office for a long period of time even after your shift has ended!” she argues.

Her statement causes your playful demeanor to drop instantly and rest your head on her shoulder again, “Baby, you know I’m trying not to do that anymore.” you say softly.

“I know you are, but this is just to ensure that.” she softens her voice and looks back at you. There’s awkward silence between the two of you. Before a sigh from your girlfriend breaks that silence, “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.” You knew that she meant well and just acted this way out of fear. Terrified, She’d get the heart dropping call that you “collapsed at work and now in the hospital” again. No, she couldn't relive that moment again. No, you wouldn’t let that happen. Not again.

So you didn’t protest any further, just giving a nod and watching your girlfriend set the alarm. And even trying to lighten up the mood by helping her pick the most goofiest alarm sound that you knew you’d come to hate. But you didn’t care since you knew it’d bring the one girl you entrusted with your heart, comfort.

Present…

The pattering of rain hitting your windshield as you drive down the familiar neighborhood feels so relaxing. Soothing even, it’s one of those rare comforts you get from your chaotic life and each time the feeling eventuates, you embrace it. But even though you try desperately to cling onto this feeling tightly, it always leaves. Always leaving a bitter feeling behind. With this same feeling coursing through your body, you pull into the driveway of your one story house. Turning off the engine, you don’t move instead resting your head on the steering wheel, listening and counting carefully to all the soft thumps that cast down on your car.

Pull yourself together..

Reluctantly, you get out of your car and walk to the entrance of your house while stuffing your hand in your pocket, searching for your keys. Fucking keys, where are you? Until the sharp edge of the key prickles your finger as you mouth the word “ow” before grabbing the key and sticking it in the keyhole. Twisting the key, unlocking the door to your cozy house.

Ahh, home at last.

Walking inside, you throw your keys into the bowl with Dina’s. “Dina?” you call out as you shut the door behind you and begin kicking your shoes off. No response. “Dina?” you call out again while losing your tie. No response once again—wait is that the water running? You hum in confusion and walk down the hallway, looking to the right, you see Dina’s ipad on the dining table with papers scattered around it.

Tattoo sketches..but where is the artist?

You avert your gaze ahead and continue walking down the winding hallway. The running water can be heard more prominent now, She must be in the bathroom. Now in front of the bathroom door, you can confirm that the water is running from the other end—but there’s also rustling. “Dina?” you knock on the door, “Baby, I’m home.” you say, waiting for a response.

“Yeah, yeah—I’ll be out in a bit…just using the bathroom!” The familiar voice says, causing you to smile.

“Alright—I’ll be in the kitchen.” you say and begin your way to said location.

“Okay!” you hear faintly as you walk away.

In the kitchen, you pour yourself some water, leaning against the counter, and closing your eyes. Trying not to think of the stresses of work, even though that’s all what’s been clouding your mind for months. Dismembered corpse—public space—some gutted—missing limbs—some having the same fate—oh god…

The sound of a door opening and soft footsteps approaching cause you to open your eyes and clear all those thoughts. You exhale, preparing yourself—For what? Upon seeing the raven haired girl, you set your glass down on the counter and walk over to you. Wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning in to kiss her.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey, you okay?” she says with a hint of worry in her tone.

The feeling of Dina caressing your cheek elicits a sigh, “Y-yeah—no, I'm okay. You took a shower?” you ask, noticing her damp hair.

A frown adorns on her face, but she answers your question. “Yeah, couldn’t really think so i took a shower.”

You nod, “Alright—well I should probably take one.”

She just hums in acknowledgment, seeming to be lost in thought. You knew when she was quiet like this—something was up.

“What’s wrong?”

There’s a pause, before uttering out, “Are you sure, you’re okay?”

You stare at your girlfriend, hesitant to worry or even plagued with her thoughts with those gruesome scenes that certainly keep you up at night. But you know, that it’ll only worry her more if you don’t say anything so—“Just work…I don’t know—“

“You do know, Y/n” She interrupts, not impressed by your response.

That intrusion leaves you speechless, pulling away from her embrace, you lean against the counter, “I know…just need—little rest that’s all.”

She crosses her arms once you pull away and just watches you. Eventually she walks past you, muttering something under her breath.

You feel your heart drop to watch your girlfriend act this way. Can I blame her? You sigh and walk towards her while she looks inside the fridge, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I don’t mean to worry you, Dina—“

“—Well you are.” she sighs, shutting the fridge door. Her focus turns to you, “I just want you to talk to me. To tell me your worries—to just communicate with me.” she says, almost pleading.

You nod, “I know—I just..” you sigh, “I just don’t want to…paint out these gruesome images in your head.” You try to hug her, but with caution—scared she’d pull away.

She doesn't though, immediately embracing you, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n” she sighs, “I just don’t want you to hold it all in, It’s not good.”

“It’s not exactly good for you either.” you say with a slight chuckle. You feel her smile against your skin eliciting a little laugh from her, “Like i said, don’t worry about me.” she repeats, pulling away to look at you with a smile painted on her face.

There it is again, that comfort you seem to look for subconsciously. It’s in front of you right now with the beautifulest smile in the world. Until she pats the side of your shoulder, “Now, we should cook something before heading to bed. ‘Cause I’m fucking starving.”

You groan, “Do we have to?” you emphasize on “have” in a whiny tone as you begin kissing her neck—hoping to distract her, “Can’t I just have you for dinner and call it a day?” you quip—but not really.

Dina chuckles, “That would be no fair, what would I eat?” She plays along.

“Oh? you can have this pus—“ you’re stopped midword when Dina puts her hand over your mouth, gasping, “No, you dirty dog. We're eating actual food and getting rest.” You smile and lick her hand causing her to snatch it away and yelling which makes you burst out laughing.

Dina wipes the palm of her hand on her jeans, “You’re such a freak…” she huffs while opening the fridge to get ingredients for this mini past midnight snack. You cross your arms, watching her with a smile adorning your face. It’s only when she has a handful of things in her arms when you lean off and take some weight off her hands, “woah—babe.” you chuckle, “what’s all this?”

Your question elicits a smile, “Dinner.” she states, settling the ingredients down. You follow her actions and look at her, “Dinner?—what are you exactly making?” you inquire with a nervous laugh. “Stop questioning the chef and help.” She demands playfully. Her demeanor makes you laugh,“Shit, yes ma’am” you say dramatically.

“Chef.” she corrects with a smile.

“Right.” You say as you begin washing the vegetables.

Although you were always exhausted from your average eighteen hour shifts, you weren’t gonna let that stop you from having these types of moments with your girlfriend. Even if they were small as carpooling with one another to work or sitting down and just talking to each other. You didn’t care, it was small and vulnerable things that mattered the most to you. The ones you cherished. You have always been an observer since a child. That’s how you landed in the work you do now.

Taking the smallest moments and finding tranquility in every single one of them. Because without them, Who are you? Without these memories to keep you afloat, you’d be nothing. You wanted to be wherever Dina went because without her, you’d probably be in some dingy apartment eating pizza with static playing on your tv, losing your mind or worse.

God..don't even wanna think about that right now.

So you don’t, instead you watch your girlfriend ramble on about work, finding yourself entranced by her beauty. The way she stops and drops the spoon to occasionally move her hands around while talking, the way the strands of hair that come loose from her bun cast perfectly down her nape. God you loved her, you’d do anything for her. Anything.

“—I swear if I get one more client asking for fucking roses or skulls, Ima lose it!” she exclaims.

You snap out of your thoughts, “Yeah.” you say with a chuckle.

She stops and looks at you, “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

You smile, “I've been listening.” you respond, crossing your arms.

She rolls her eyes and resumes cooking while you walk behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I have, please continue.” you assure her, placing light kisses on her shoulder.

She hums, “Well, I’ve been working on this piece for a friend of mine.” she continues.

You lay your head on her shoulder, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m really excited!”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Ellie, you remember her, right? From college.”

You nod and hum, “Oh yeah, I remember her.”

“Yup, I’m gonna be doing her left arm.”

“Ooo, sounds like that’s gonna hurt, especially in the armpit area.” you scrunch your face in displeasure.

“Well, she asked me to recommend an area where it’d look good and I suggested there.”

“Ahh—mm…well what’s the design she has in mind?”

“I don’t know, We haven’t gone in much depth into specifics, but definitely space related?”

You hum, “I’m excited for you, seems fun!” you say to her while watching her hand move the wooden spoon rhythmically around the pot until her voice snaps you out of your trance, “Set the table for me, yeah?”

With a quick nod and “Okay.”, you walk down the hall to the dining area. Upon arriving, you see the true mindset of an artist. Like seen when you arrived home, papers scattered midway of the dining table, some blank and some scribbled over unfinished designs that seem not to meet the artist’s high standards. You carefully grab all the papers and pile them into one neat pile.

Placing them aside, you grab Dina’s ipad that lights up immediately upon grabbing and showcases the unfinished sketch on the screen. Ellie’s tattoo, it’s a rough sketch of the design but some prominent details are visible. Upon closer inspection, you can see what looks to be a lightly sketched astronaut with wings attached behind it.

Scrutinizing the image comes to a short end when you hear footsteps behind you. Turning off the ipad and placing it on the stack of papers, you grab the bunch and turn around to see Dina with two bowls in hand, “Hey, sorry for the mess on the table” she says, placing the two bowls down and grabbing the stack from your hands.

“It’s no problem, seen your work. Fucking sick, babe.” You remark.

Your compliment elicits a smile from Dina, “Thank you, It’s not the final cut, but it’s something.”

You hum in response, “Well I like it already, finale or not.” you say with a smile.

The corner of the raven haired girl’s lips curve upward, “Heh, thanks babe.”

You shoot a wink at her and sit down while she sets the supplies aside and sits with you. Looking down at the contents in the bowl, it looks fucking amazing and you tell your girlfriend that. Finally, a real fucking meal. Not some fast food place down the street from your job.

A real meal.

“4:26” is what is displayed on the clock sitting on your nightstand. How stupid of you to think, this’ll be the night you would actually get some sleep. Fuuuchhhkk.. Lying flat on the bed once more, you stared up at the ceiling. The soft breathing of your girlfriend fans lightly on your cheek, only annoys you more. Fuck it, I’ll just take one of Dina’s sleeping pills. Sitting up, you look beside you to see your girlfriend’s figure and looking over her form. You don’t see the pills that usually sit on her nightstand.

Fuck, Where the fuck did she put them?!

Throwing the sheet off your body, you slowly get out of bed and walk over to the other side of the bed. Carefully opening the drawer, you don’t find what you’re looking for. Fuck, she must’ve left them on the counter. Shutting the drawer lightly, you sneak away to the entrance of your bedroom, twisting the knob to exit.

Upon opening the door, you peek your head out to the abyss clouding your vision. You begin your descent into the dark hallway like a bat, gliding your arm along the wall for a light switch. When you’re almost down at the end of the hall, you kick something that goes flying down the end of the hallway.

Fuck..

You quickly find the switch and look down to see what you kicked, Dina’s backpack—Shit—You walk towards it and bend down to pick it up, but stop when something catches your eye. On the backpack can be found a dried substance.

is that blood?—

“Babe, what are you doing with my bag?”

The sound you come to love is now sending a chill down your back; Your girlfriend's voice,

Dina.

AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE; Please look at these links for palestine!! — How you can help Palestine, Why you shouldn’t support tlou/ buy the remastered, Educate yourself, #FREEPALESTINE. Please view these links to better educate yourself. If you could read this entire fic then you can take a few moments to learn and support palestine!

a/n; I know you’re sitting at the edge of your seat (hopefullly) to know what happens next 😭. And trust me I will be posting chapter two soon…maybe? I don’t wanna make promises because a lot of shit has happened in tumblr and my personal life which will hinder my progress of writing. But i honestly love fucking writing, it’s one of the few things that bring joy to my heart. I and I absolutely found joy in writing this chapter and I can’t fucking wait to start writing on chapter two!!! AHHHHH there’s so many fears and discomfort that do come to mind when i think of this fic and i’ll discuss one of them; the little recognition that Dina fic get :(((( i won’t go into detail but i do have to remind myself that this is for my pure enjoyment. GIVE DINA SO JUSTICE WTFFF?!!! And i truly can’t wait to write chapter two!!! Just the anticipation I’m having for it AHHHH okay okay ima stop yapping 😭😭 But i just before i fully stop yapping in my papping, I’d like to thank my two favs, @dyk3ang3l and @elliesprettygirl for listening to my thoughts on this! Especially syd, because whole fuck you really encouraged to me to write this and i love you so much 🤍😭😭. But with that, thank you for reading this, you seriously don’t know how happy I get seeing people enjoy what I enjoy making so Just thank you. And with all that cheesy shit out the way, MAKE SURE TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE TO NEVER MISS A BANGER LIKE THIS!!! 💯💯🔥🔥🔥

꒰✰꒱ taglist: @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @whorefordina, @a-little-bit-of-everybody, @les4elliewilliams

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[oneshotnewbie]

Emily Prentiss x child!reader where reader is sick or feeling down and Emily takes care of her? 🥰

ᕚ---ᕘ

Emily Prentiss sat in a meeting room at the FBI headquarters, surrounded by her team. The tense air threatened to suffocate them as they discussed the latest information about the case at the table. A serial killer was terrorizing the city and the team was working hard to hunt him down.

The analysis of evidence, witness statements and tiny digital traces were in full swing. Everyone in the room was concentrated and focused when suddenly Emily's phone rang in her jacket pocket. Her hand instinctively went to the device, her mind still lingering on the details of the case.

"Please excuse me for a moment," she said, pressing the green button, already guessing from the number that this call would turn her day upside down as she stepped out of the room. "Agent Prentiss," she spoke up, her voice sounding calm and professional.

"Mrs. Prentiss, this is Mrs. Johnson from kindergarden," came the concerned voice on the other end of the line and Emily bit her lip as she placed her free hand on her hip. “I’m sorry to interrupt you in the middle of work, but it’s about y/n.”

A pang of concern shot through Emily. You were her light, her pride - her daughter. She forced herself to remain calm, but her heart continued to race hard against her chest. "What happened? Is she hurt?"

"No, nothing bad has happened to her. However, she has a high fever and is complaining of stomach pain. We think it would be better if you picked her up and brought her home," your kindergarden teacher explained to her and the black-haired woman took a deep breath as she relaxed, thoughts racing in her head.

She could hear the concern in your kindergarden teacher's voice and knew she had to act immediately. But at the same time, the unsolved case was intruding on her priorities. "I'll be there right away," she assured, then hung up.

Her gaze lifted to her team, who were looking at her expectantly and when she came back into the room, they were just about to begin presenting her with the latest theories they had considered during her conversation. But Emily immediately stopped Penelope with a wave of her hand. "I have to go. Y/n got sick," she explained shortly, pulling her jacket from the chair.

"Would you like one of us to accompany you and help you with her?" Rossi offered, but Emily shook her head. "No, I can handle it. This isn't the first rodeo of illness. Please keep me updated on the status of things," she asked, hurrying out of the room.

Her heart pounded loudly in her head as she rushed through the endless hallways of FBI headquarters. Her thoughts were swirling - worried about you, but also worried about the case that she couldn't just leave behind.

When she finally got outside, she got into her car and drove to the nearby kindergarden, lights dimmed while driving carefully. Her mind worked feverishly to come up with a way to balance these two important aspects of her life over the next few days.

As she hurried out of the car and headed to the kindergarden entrance, her heart was still beating fast with worry for her little daughter, and she couldn't wait to wrap her arms around you.

When she entered the comfortably warm house, her eyes immediately fell on you, lying at a table in your group with your head resting on your arms, surrounded by the other children who were happily playing. Emily felt a pang in her chest when she noticed your red cheeks and lack of energy. She quickly walked over to you and knelt down in front of you.

“Y/n, love, what’s wrong?” She asked softly, placing a hand on your forehead to feel the fever as you lifted your head up briefly. You smiled weakly and opened your arms for her to hug you. "My stomach hurts and I'm tired."

The black-haired woman sighed softly as she looked at you lovingly and pulled you into her arms. "We're going home now, okay? Then we'll work together to make you feel better."

You nodded and let your mother pick you up as she turned to your kindergarden teacher to say goodbye and thank her for the call. You rested your head on her shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around her neck while your legs hung weakly against her. She quickly took your rain jacket and backpack from the wardrobe, which was decorated with your name, before leading you to the car.

On the way home, Emily tried to cheer you up by telling you stories and reassuring you that everything would be okay. But inside her, the worry was gnawing at her - your fever was very high and she needed to get it down as quickly as possible.

When you both finally got home, Emily put you to bed and tucked you in lovingly after giving you the first helping of fever juice. She promised to stay by your side until you felt better, gently stroking your warm abdomen to ease the pain.

While you slept, she used the quiet time to ask the team for new information, make you soup and tidy up the apartment. She tried to organize her thoughts and come up with a plan to balance both her role as a mother and her work as an FBI agent. It wouldn't be easy in the next few days, but she was determined to get through both. For you and for those she needed to protect.

She checked your sleeping state and fever several times an hour without waking you up. She kept the lights on in the room dimmed, and the silence in your otherwise noisy room enveloped her like a comforting blanket. The day had turned into an unexpected turning point, and Emily was grateful that she was now here to care for you.

You had recovered somewhat in the last few hours, but the fever was still high. Emily was no longer worried about the work she had left behind - right now the priority was solely on you. She remembered being sick as a little girl and her father lovingly caring for her. Now it was her turn to give the same care and love to her own daughter that her father had once given her.

As you slowly woke up, Emily smiled lovingly at you, relaxing from the mountain of untidy toys before turning to your bed and stroking your cheeks. "Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?" she asked and you yawned and rubbed your eyes tiredly before sleepily stretching your arms out to her. "My stomach doesn't hurt anymore but I'm still tired."

Emily nodded understandingly and handed you a glass of water and some easily digestible and lukewarm soup. She stayed by your side, read you stories, played little bedside games with you and comforted you when you had another headache.

The day passed slowly, but she enjoyed every moment of being close to you. She felt grateful for the precious time you spent together and for the opportunity to give you comfort when you needed it most.

As evening fell and you were visited by Aunt Penelope and JJ, Emily allowed herself a moment of peace. Her heart was filled with warmth and contentment as she heard your gentle laughter mixed with the laughter of her best friends, even though this day had brought unexpected challenges. She was grateful to be there for you. As a mother who loved nothing more than caring for her little daughter.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss imagines #emily prentiss oneshot #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fiction #criminal minds fic #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #imagines #imagine #writeblr #writing community

[swamp-adder]

canon quotes in support of the "Holmes is bipolar" theory

Nothing could exceed his energy when the working fit was upon him; but now and again a reaction would seize him, and for days on end he would lie upon the sofa in the sitting-room, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from morning to night. -- STUD

He was bright, eager, and in excellent spirits, a mood which in his case alternated with fits of the blackest depression. -- SIGN

Holmes could talk exceedingly well when he chose, and that night he did choose. He appeared to be in a state of nervous exaltation. I have never known him so brilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects,--on miracle-plays, on medieval pottery, on Stradivarius violins, on the Buddhism of Ceylon, and on the war-ships of the future,--handling each as though he had made a special study of it. His bright humor marked the reaction from his black depression of the preceding days. -- SIGN

[...] as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. -- MUSG

Holmes had spent several days in bed, as was his habit from time to time [...] -- 3GAR

Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who, when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for days, and even for a week, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that he was now preparing for an all-night sitting. -- TWIS

He paced restlessly about our sitting-room in a fever of suppressed energy, biting his nails, tapping the furniture, and chafing against inaction. -- BRUC

It was not a long journey from Winchester to Thor Place, but it was long to me in my impatience, while for Holmes it was evident that it seemed endless; for, in his nervous restlessness he could not sit still, but paced the carriage or drummed with his long, sensitive fingers upon the cushions beside him. -- THOR

"My dear Watson, you know how bored I have been since we locked up Colonel Carruthers. My mind is like a racing engine, tearing itself to pieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it was built." -- WIST

#obviously multiple interpretations are possible #but i've occasionally seen people ask what the basis is for the bipolar interpretation #so here ya go #sherlock holmes #acd holmes

[fluffyprettykitty]

nsfw alphabet

Pairing: Sam Wilson x female reader (no specifications)

Word Count: 2200 words

Warnings: pretty much everything, ejaculations, penetration, sex toys, oral sex, exhibitionism, lingerie kink, humiliation kink, daddy kink, oral fixation, size difference. if I missed anything major please let me know!

Author’s Note: Here it is! thank you all for voting in my poll and if you see something interesting let me know so we can expand it! :)

PS: dividers & banners by @saradika

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Sam Wilson Masterlist

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Sam loves taking care of you, he likes showering you and caressing you while doing so before returning you to bed with him. Drying your hair and your skin with a soft blanket and then tenderly applying lotions on both of you, he never stops praising you and being soft and tender with you. He loves cuddling you and acting like the big spoon engulfing you inside his embrace & keeping you warm. He is also a big pajama wearer ever since moving to Washington dc so he dresses you in them as well. He completely adores you and he makes sure to take his time showing his devotion and admiration to you.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

His favorite body part of his are his hands, especially his fingers, he knows what kind of effect they have on you and he loves driving you wild with them, the possibilities are endless. Although he is also pretty much a cock guy. When it comes to a lover, Sam is mostly an ass guy but he is also into breasts as much as any guy, all in all, his favorite parts of a woman are her mouth and lips, loves getting kissed and caressed, and all the soft things.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Sam loves shooting his cum inside you and watching it spill out slowly, he also loves feeding you his cum with his fingers and when he finishes a blowjob he headlocks your head in for maximum effect. Sometimes he also loves painting you with his cum and shooting it all over your breasts just to make you lick it all again. He is also known to something leaving marks on your clothes for you to find later, just cause.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

Sam's dirty secret is that he is into humiliation for you, he would take it to the extreme but he respects you too much for it. If he could parade around nude with a collar on a leash he would be happy. he loves knowing that he'd own you completely but only during the act and he loves it the more teary-eyed you are.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

Sam is an experienced man, there's almost nothing he hasn't tried yet as he is very adventurous and always up for new things. He knows how to do everything you ask of him and he loves pleasing your wishes. He loves finding out your body and meeting your needs and suppressing your expectations to the max.

F= Favorite position

On your back of course, holding your hands together and slamming his whole body onto yours, followed closely by missionary just to watch you struggle underneath him and your tummy bulge and lastly, he loves it when you are riding his face, one first around his cock, another hand on your clit rubbing.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He can become very goofy during sex especially when he wants to tease you and makes the most obscure references to things while doing so. He will mock you in a joking way & he's rarely serious about it. The only times he is serious during the act is when he's feeling grief or something intense during an unsolved mission for instance.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

Sam is the most well-groomed man in the world, he loves his showers, he loves his lotions & his oils. He always smells incredible and he takes care of himself in every was possible.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Sam is very much a romantic intimate guy. He will stop to make a love confession to you, kiss your face, call you pretty, recall a past action of yours he particularly adored and mostly he will make you feel as loved and secure as ever before. Worshipping you comes naturally to him and as vocal as he is he won't stop praising you. Even when he gets rough or punishing he never fails to you beautiful and sexy.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Sam only masturbates on late-night overseas calls with you or when you are getting punished by him. During calls he is more desperate and goes faster at it with his big hand wrapped around his girthy cock, stroking himself with precum falling off his fingers so deliciously. At the other times though he does it more slowly, caressing his veins in such a teasing way that his own cock twitches for more attention. He also does have a fleshlight but he uses it more rarely.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Sam likes the thrill of almost getting caught, not that he'd ever allow you to be exposed to anything because he's just that good but he loves knowing that five minutes before guests are supposed to arrive, you are at the decorated dinner table getting eaten out. Also, he is known to be slipping fingers inside you during conversations with people knowing people would never manage to point it out. And of course the daddy thing which is the first kink of his you ever find out because he does refers to him like that during the act.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Sam loves getting you alone in the shower, ever since you met him you have never taken a shower or a bath on your own, he always shows up. Another favorite place of his is the car, especially for blow jobs because he says it gives him the chance to prove how good of a driver he is but he also loves fingering you in the car. Another favorite place of his is the dinner table, either on it or against it.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Clothes are what motivates him, the way they hang on your body, the way you walk, the way you smell, the way you might repeat an action that entices him. He is extremely observant so he always has his eyes on you somehow observing all of your micro-expressions. During the act what makes him more feral are the sounds of your wet pussy and when those first mantras of daddy begin to fall off your lips, that's when he gets brutal and needy himself.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Sam doesn't have many turnoffs. He would never do anything you wouldn't want to do and he would always stop the minute you'd ask him to. He would listen to you.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

Sam is a king at pussy eating, he loves using both the tip and the flat of his tongue to maximize your pleasure. He holds your thighs down and goes to town in such a way that will have you shaking again and again. He loves sucking on the clit like a lollipop, he likes using his fingers along with his tongue to make you squirm and he enjoys slurping up all of your juices, cleaning you completely. Now when it comes to receiving he loves a partner who tries to deep throat because let's be real that thing is huge you will choke yourself on it no matter how hard you try but that's one of the things he loves the most. Sometimes he might even use your mouth as a resting place for his cock. Overall he loves oral sex both for giving and receiving and he loves it most when he does it in a semi-public setting.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Sam is fast but he prefers it slow. He only picks up the pace when he needs to make you go crazy. He could last all night if you let him and once a week he loves taking off the whole day just to fuck you in any position possible, it's what motivates him better.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Quickies are not the preferred for Sam, he loves taking his time and overstimulating and edging you at the same time, so for him a quickie could only happen if he was that desperate for you, hasn't seen you in a while and needs you immediately or in a public setting (family dinner in the bathroom, club sex, dressing room quickie)

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

Sam loves taking risks. There's almost nothing he wouldn't want to try, together or on you or on himself. The minute he finds out about something new he would love to try it out with you. Sam is always up for a good experience, he says it builds character, especially on himself.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Sam can last a LOT. He loves taking his time, quickies are not his favourites, so one pussy eating session could turn into an hour-long affair, a fucking could turn into cockwarming, and back into fucking without him ever losing his hard-on. And even if it does he gets it up pretty quickly. All in all, he loves lasting and dragging out his time, wanting to completely savor the experience. So each round of his would preferably be around 30 minutes up to an hour.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

He is pretty much game with any sex toy. He would love to use your vibrator on you just to test you out or to stimulate you, he would use an anal plug just for you to feel some kind of double penetration and he wouldn't mind a cock ring himself. He is also into any kind of accessory, including handcuffs, ropes & masks. As a gadget man, he wouldn't mind even toying with a vibrator to turn into a remote control object turned by his voice.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Sam is a huge teaser. He would touch at any opportunity, smack your ass, squeeze your breast if he can, tease your neck. He'd even lick his fingers to cite a reaction out of you, he would low whisper close to your ear, he'd grunt in a way that would make you jump at him and mostly he would do anything in his position not to leave you alone at all.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Sam can be quite loud with his barite grunts and the way he curses during the act. He tends to be more talkative when he's teasing and right before he starts fucking you, after that he focuses on the sounds because he loves hearing it when he slams inside you, that slapping sound and the sound of wet pussy makes him wild. He tends to also ask you a lot of questions because he likes overstimulating his partner and mostly he moans when you blow him off, maybe the only time during the act he's not that talkative. He also likes groaning every time he enters you.

W= Wild card (random sin cannon of any sort)

Sam is so incredibly into getting his fingers sucked, he loves mouth training and having a partner that has an oral fixation like that, he loves a partner that prefers letting him take control for the most part. He is also very into masturbating with your lingerie although that would be a little bit harder for him to admit. He definitely has one drawer full of your own underwear.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Sam has a very muscular and well-toned body. His workouts are intense and he participates in all kinds of sports. His huge biceps are the result of weight lifting and his incredible stamina comes from his active lifestyle. He's also incredibly well-endowed and leaves anyone begging for it. His cock is girthy and uncut, full of veins with an almost aggressive tip.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Sam possesses a medium sex drive, as a former soldier he is very disciplined and very in control of his emotions and actions so he never slips but when he needs he can become pretty unpredictable. Sam is after all a spontaneous kind of person. So depending on his object of lust his sex drive increases.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Sam is a big cuddler so he prefers wrapping his arms around you and bringing you close to him before he falls asleep, preferably with his nose buried inside your hair. The peaceful sound of you breathing in your sleep is what drifts him off to sleep, he is a very much a doing things together so he loves it when you fall asleep together after sex.

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

#selenewrites #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson smut #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x fem!reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson fic #sam wilson headcanon #captain america #captain america smut

[thebramblewood]

Read an exclusive excerpt of "Chapter 5: The Mysterious Cal and Lily" from Tangled Vines: A Complete Investigation of the Vatore Disappearances, the bestselling phenomenon sweeping Sim Nation!

The advent of the Roaring '20s put a new city on the map. Prohibition was in full swing across the nation (though often loosely and selectively enforced), but citizens were more eager than ever to revel in excess. Producers of alcoholic beverages (including the Vatore family itself, having swiftly resumed business operations despite the loss of its future inheritors) transitioned to an outward emphasis on medical spirits while moving recreational production underground. Equally clandestine speakeasys began cropping up by the dozens, but one city's winding sidewalks, grimy storefronts, and labyrinthine system of underground tunnels made it particularly well-suited to hosting these secret locales. Soon enough, San Myshuno was the pinnacle of glitz, glamor, and elegant debauchery. All who attended a party wanted to be seen. Curiously, though, two of the names most often uncovered in tabloid archives, Cal and Lily, seemed to fully avoid the increasingly ubiquitous flash of the camera. While other frequenters of the speakeasy circuit often found their grainy black and white faces in print, providing endless fodder for the burgeoning gossip rag industry, this pair remained elusive, which of course sold even more papers. Fellow partygoers pitched first-hand accounts to the highest bidders, and readers clung onto every salacious word. Lily and Cal were always observed to arrive together, but she would soon make a beeline for the gramophone while he settled in at the bar. Nearly every report calls Lily an exquisite beauty with an almost supernatural ability for drawing men into her orbit. In some instances, partygoers describe a herd of suitors nearly erupting into fisticuffs as they competed for her attention. It is impossible to say how many of these accounts are exaggerated or even fabricated. Nevertheless, it is clear she was quite the force. At the end of the night, she would leave with her chosen companion, stupefied by his stroke of good luck, on her arm. Meanwhile, Cal would watch listlessly from a distance, nursing a glass of whiskey he was never observed to actually drink. The relationship between the two was unclear, as was his reason for accompanying her, as he seemed to have little interest in the raucousness surrounding him. He rarely engaged with other guests or even Lily herself, though there is at least one report of an argument in which he seemed with little success to be dissuading her from leaving with yet another man. One cannot help but draw parallels to a certain set of siblings with suspiciously similar names. Despite being younger, Caleb Vatore was always said to be protective over his sister Lilith's interests, even if she rarely heeded his advice. Digging into the newspaper archives at Myshuno Meadows Library unearths several more disturbing accounts. Increasingly, there were whispers that the men Lily seduced completely vanished from San Myshuno society after coming into contact with her. While there was a small spike in unsolved murder cases at the time, a concrete connection between the victims and the mysterious Lily cannot be made. In one story, which admittedly reads like a hallucinatory drug trip, Lily is described as a succubus with glowing red eyes and sharp blood-stained teeth. This account was clearly dismissed, for its revelations were never entertained further. All at once, the champagne and glitter dissolved into a more sober era, and these socialites vanished from public life just as swiftly. In isolation, similarities between Cal and Lily and the disappeared Vatore siblings may seem like mere coincidences. In truth, it cannot even be proven that they existed. No official records matching either individual have been discovered. One could argue that they were works of fiction concocted to boost sales or composites drawn from several individuals. However, considered alongside the evidence to be presented in later chapters, the theory that this duo and the Vatores are one and the same becomes too tantalizingly probable to dismiss.

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #story: hzid #lilith vatore #caleb vatore #oops i dropped something #thanks to the magic of storytelling i've obtained the footage #anyway i've decided lilith only kills men (on purpose anyway) #she doesn't count the accidents #also i realized while writing this that it was very subconsciously inspired by this kind of obscure british film called bright young things #(which is itself based on the novel vile bodies by evelyn waugh) #i remember it mainly being about vapid awful people in a downward spiral of increasingly debauched behavior #(in other words highly recommended) #but specifically there's a reporter character played by james mcavoy who picks up intel at parties #and then feverishly dictates his reports by phone in the middle of the night to ensure they make the morning edition #that's exactly what i'm picturing here #it's like the '20s version of celebrities being papped #anyway if you read everything under the cut and then also made it this far you're a real one #gonna cool it on the lore for now and hold onto the more interesting bits a while longer

[writing-for-life]

Give me your head-canons:

How do you solve the Orpheus problem?

[And as always: Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!]

As in: It’s the elephant in the room in so many canon-compliant or -adjacent fanfics I read (we obviously don’t need to talk about coffee shop AUs) and Orpheus either keeps on existing somehow (and no one cares, because Dream and whatever love interest just literally fuck off into the sunset and pretend everything’s okay), or he gets killed by someone else who quite strictly wouldn’t be able to kill him.

Is it a solvable problem?

If he keeps existing as a severed head, it’s honestly a bit shite for him, isn’t it? So these are the fics where we keep on visiting severed heads. I don’t know, I find that… dissatisfying.

If Dream kills him, it’s over. Unless he stays in the Dreaming and lets the storm blow over. Will it though? I mean yeah, he could sit there for all eternity (groan), not take Death’s hand and make sure he doesn’t conveniently leave so the Kindly Ones get in and start ripping the Dreaming to shreds. But that doesn’t really sound like a solution to me either, because the problem won’t go away. Also: Probably no meetings in the waking world with you-know-who ever again. Plot hole, people, it doesn’t work that way.

If someone else kills him: Who? Please don’t say Hob, I know he’s immortal (so was Murphy), but the very idea is that no one can kill the poor kid because he made a deal with Death, which she apparently can’t revoke. Is there an entity who could? Which links in to the question: Why could Dream (somewhat rhetorical question)? Could any similar entity do it if they also had to grant him a boon? But don’t forget: Can’t be one of the Endless, they’re all family. Unless one sacrifices themselves. I mean, I think I’ve seen Death doing that in a fic somewhere, I think the assumption was she’s okay with dying a mortal death, but I also felt that’s not quite right, since it’s just not the same (also: in her mortal form, she wouldn’t have those powers). Does it have to be The Presence/Glory? Why would they care?

Yeah, he could use the Saeculum I guess, but really? If the problem never existed, it would also feel… wrong? Plus, we all know that changing the past always has implications on the future that go far beyond the thing we want to change. Plus plus: I honestly think it would be a bit OOC for him because he’d feel there’s not enough at stake (like a whole universe imploding) to ever justify that. So no, that’s, IMHO, making him into someone he really isn’t (can of course be an option in fanfic I guess).

Same goes for the Dream of a Thousand Cats Spiel. Someone who is so wrapped up in his duty just wouldn’t do that for his own personal gain, and not even for one loved one (he also wouldn’t be allowed to kick it off by telling anyone, and what 1,000 dreamers would dream that? I mean, WE all would, but that’s a bit… meta?😂). I said what I said.

Or is it some sort of magic? Like, he’s still a severed head, but we make him *think* he isn’t, give him back a body (in his own mind, or maybe even for real)? But that’s also… not great and feels like gaslighting him. Really not keen.

So what say you?

Is this just a case of: Unsolvable problem, hence we might as well pretend we solve it in some ridiculous way or pretend it doesn’t exist in the first place?

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #orpheus #sandman meta #<<<sort of but not really #the sandman spoilers #sandman spoilers #sandman headcanons #how do you solve a problem like orpheus #<<<that’s a sound of music reference #just in case-you never know these days

[kaus-quietis]

“So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-season’d showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife (…)”

#bsd fyodor #bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor dostoyevsky #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor dostoyevsky #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fanart #traditional fanart #watercolour #fanart #unsolved and endless #we are approaching the final movement... #my joy... how my heart aches in anticipation #next week... this blog will finally have its much-desired closure in its grasp #and I will be able to move on #I want this... to be the last fanart I post on my blog. I want to part ways with contributing to the fandom #I tried my best but I do not feel at home in it. nothing I do ever makes it a better experience #its pressure is suffocating as is its ignorance and shallowness #as it to me simply does not give but only takes... I plan my blog's grande finale #next week is special. watch me #watch... us

[hornyjorny]

late night distractions

river ward x fem! v

summary: river decides he's finally had enough of the office, and decides to invite you over for a much needed break ;) an- i've literally been working on this for like. a fucking month by now lmao. anyway enjoy. will be posting more in the future warnings- smut (18+ mdni), soft dom river, sub!v, oral (f receiving) public s3x (whoops) , creampie, f!ngering, mild degradation, you are both horny gonks who desperately deserve a break, johnny is being annoying again

wc: 8k??? holy shit me wtf

In the darkness of his office, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and casefiles, all River Ward can bring himself to think about is you. 

The room is silent save for the endless droning of the ceiling fan above, and the distant hum of the city beyond. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast long shadows that dance like phantoms, wrapping the room in an eerie solitude. Outside the office window, the neon lights of Night City painted a vibrant tapestry of chaos upon the lonely walls. Piles of unsolved mysteries loomed around him, their weight pressing down on his weary shoulders. 

River Ward sits in front of his computer, hands poised on the keyboard. All he can do is mindlessly stare at the open file on the bright screen before him.  He can’t focus like this.  

He can’t stop thinking about you. 

Truth is, River just misses you. He yearns for you like a junkie craves a fucking boost. The demands of his work as a private investigator in Night City have become a never-ending fucking acid trip, a labyrinth of dead-end leads, and goddamn conspiracy theories that seem to lead to jack shit.

It’s been a long fucking couple of weeks.

Sure, he knew becoming a private investigator in N.C. was no easy task—it’s what he’s signed up for, after all. But by fuck, he’s drowning in his work with little resolve. River can’t really complain about the pay, either. He’s actually starting out not-so bad— but fuck, he’s always busy. And when you live in a world where there’s a literal ticking time bomb in your girlfriend’s head, ready to go off at any moment, the last thing you wanna be is fucking busy. The demands of his work feel like a fucking all-consuming whirlwind, a never-ending shitstorm of new info that all leads to buttfuck nowhere. And worst of all, he just wants to be home with you, enjoying the little time you guys have left together. 

He aches for the way he’s able to pull you in his big arms, missing the way you always get on your tippy-toes to reach in for a kiss, having to reach up for him just to reach his lips. What he truly craves more than anything else in the world is your presence— your infectious goddamn smile, your  laughter, your soft and tender touch. But he can’t go anywhere. Not till he makes a break in the case, at least. 

River's fingers hover over the keyboard, but as he tries to focus, the words blur into a goddamn kaleidoscope of nonsense. His work, his responsibilities—it all fades into the background, overshadowed by the overpowering sense of longing. He shifts his gaze from the computer to the neon-drenched shitshow beyond the window, the vibrant chaos of Night City. As he thinks of you, a goddamn tidal wave of longing washes over him, drowning out the relentless work-related bullshit that usually occupies his mind. 

But fuck, as much as he tries to be respectful, he just also really misses fucking you. It drives him insane how easily you submit to him whenever you’re stuffed with his huge dick. River’s just enamored by your sweet, soft little muffled cries of pure pleasure while he overtakes your deadly cunt. He loves the way your shoulders tense up when he hits particularly deep, loves the way your little face twists and contorts with sheer pleasure, all weakened and already fucked out within minutes of him shoving himself in.. 

Shit. He can't take it anymore. The case can wait. He wants you, and he wants you now. No use heading home now, right? 

It’s fuckin’ late, well past 12 AM.

…but it’s also when you happen to be out you’re usually out and about after a gig. 

Why not give it a shot? 

River’s heart aches a little as he pulls up your contact over the holo. He just really, really fucking misses you, and internally prays that you’ll pick up, even if just to hear the sound of voice for a little while. He just craves any semblance of you. With an unsteady breath, he finally calls. 

The eerie ringing of the holodex against the silence of the night’s air was deafening. His chest raises, heart pounding, desperately hoping you’ll pick up. 

But then, the call finally connects, and you’re greeting him with the biggest, most mischievous grin on your face. Fuck, hes glad you answered. “Shit, was just aboutta’ text you, you know. Been missing you, Detective..”

River's lips curl into a smile he couldn't hold back—relief washing over him at the sound of your voice. Hearing you admit that you missed him too made him damn-near light headed. He takes a steady, deep breath to prepare himself before he speaks.

“Been missing you more than just words can say, V," he finally replies, his voice laced with a blend of longing and affection. "I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you, you know. It's been... tough here without you lately. Still at the fuckin’ office, too..”

You can distinctively sense River’s distress, he looks exhausted, and you can’t help but to feel the pang of longing that fills your heart. You really did miss him too. But turns out River was right— you were actually out and about on one of your little hot-shot missions, and it so happened you were closeby. Your honest, original plan was to just catch up with your boyfriend, maybe stop by his place if he so happened to be up. 

 “You know what, River?" You reply, voice tone a mix of playfulness and genuine concern. "I've got news that might make your night a whole lot better.” 

Well shit, now you’ve got him reeled in. “Was actually gonna ask you if I could stop by— Jus’ finished a gig not far from your place. Been thinkin’ about you a lot lately, Riv.” 

Oh, fuck. What were the odds? 

His heart starts to jump in his chest. 

“I’m at the office right now,” He breathes quickly, voice dropping an octave as he whispers into the holo.“Would really love it if you wanna stop by..” He just sounds so fuckin’ soft, so needy, your heart melts a little bit. 

“Be there in five, Detective.”

“Preem,” he smiles. “See ya then, V.” 

When you walk through the door, River’s weary gaze shoots up from the mountains of papers scattered casefiles on his desk. His mechanical eye flickers a shade brighter— and he’s beaming. Fuck, he’s glad you showed. To him, you merged like an ephemeral beacon. His weary gaze, burdened by the weight of investigations, was abruptly lifted as it collided with your presence. 

Before you had entered, the  room was cast in an eerie quietness, illuminated solely by a dim desk lamp that struggled to push back the encroaching shadows. Beyond the window, the vibrant neons of the city painted a fractured mosaic on the walls, offering a glimpse of the relentless nightlife far below. 

It felt kind of… lonely, almost. A heavy quietness hung in the air, broken only by the distant hum of the city, reminding River of the isolation that often accompanied his late-night work. Regardless, you skillfully navigate the precarious stacks of paperwork strewn like toppled skyscrapers across the floor to your boyfriend. 

"V," he breathed, his voice a low rasp of longing, "you have no idea how good it is to see you right now.” 

Before you could make it into his arms, your digital companion materializes before you, the air around him fracturing into millions of tiny blue shards, peering over River’s shoulder, aviators raised downwards. 

“Things are lookin’ rough for Detective Dumbass,” he pauses, looking back up to you, a smug grin plastered across his face. “…Looks like there’s something other than work on his mind. Better come let your dog off the leash before he snaps.”

You internally groan. And so it begins. You shoot Johnny a look— before you turn back to River. 

“Guess I can say the same to you, Riv..” You sigh with a smile, reaching out to tenderly touch his arm. “Can’t stop thinking about you, you know. S’ been a while since I saw you..”

“I know,” River whispers, his heart when you wrap your arms tight around his waist, resting your head against his chest. Your hearts beat in tandem, a silent symphony of love rekindled.  “Couldn’t be without you for a second longer if I tried, V..think I would’ve finally lost it.”

You can hear it in his voice— he’s tired. Exhausted. 

So you decide to give your detective a moment of reprise amidst the chaos. Fuck it, you’ll be the first one admit it— you’re desperate too. You haven’t seen River in god knows how fucking long. Haven’t felt his skin against yours in ages. 

“Well, I’m here now, Detective Ward...” you whisper, tracing your index finger along his chiseled jawline, down his chest, down to the loops of his belt. “Why don’t you show me just how much you’ve missed me, then?” 

But regardless, your words carved through a path of intimacy that ignited a smoldering, burning fire. You swore mechanical eye shimmered with newfound brilliance. And in response to your playful assertion, his lips curved into a smile as radiant as the moonlight over the city's nocturnal canvas.

 “Be glad to, little merc.”

Oh shit, you hadn’t heard that little nickname in a while. But fuck, how you love when he calls you that. With little patience remaining within you, you finally crash your lips against his, and he borderline whimpers into your mouth, hands grabbing your ass as leverage to hold your shorter frame up into him. 

The sensation of his lips against yours feels borderline intoxicating. Everything about him drives you absolutely fucking insane— his mouth crashes against yours, letting out a little low groan into your mouth. You can’t help the way his excited eagerness sends little heatwaves down to your core. In that suspended moment, the world outside vanished into obscurity, all that mattered was him. 

But River pulls away, and your lips finally part. It seems like all time stops around you when you gaze into each other's eyes, your heavy, needy breaths rising and falling together in sync amidst the quiet of his office. 

“You know, V..” River whispers real low, finally breaking the moment of prolonged silence. “I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much. Missed everything about you. Can’t focus… can’t do nothin’ right now.”

Oh, you absolutely know what he’s getting at. 

But then, the familiar materialization of blue pixels flashes before you, digital companion appearing before your very eyes, leaning against the door frame. You can’t help but to internally groan— not again. Always picking the worst times to interject. 

“Told you so, dipshit. Detective’s sniffin’ around for more…”

Before you can snap back, he’s gone. 

Ugh. 

The remnants of your playful distraction lingers like a promise in the air, your fingers tapping along River’s beefy arm. “Soooo, River? Gonna ask me to help you out?”

Steady heavy hands grab at your hips, holding you into place. River leans down to your ear, his voice a salacious whisper; an uncharacteristically animalistic growl leaving him as he leans in close. 

“I’ll fuck you right here, right now, if you’ll let me, V…” he pauses, steely gaze meeting yours. “That’s how much I missed you.”

Oh, shit. 

It didn’t even cross your mind that he would ever actually wanna fuck in his own goddamn office. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. 

You’re Night City’s most dangerous merc— and he’s a fucking up-and-running detective, one whose job is made harder by people like you every day— your relationship defies any and all odds, but by Christ, you can’t deny that offer. Not when you crave him oh-so-desperately, not when he’s towering above you, peering down at you like you’re about to become his next meal.

Your breath catches in your throat immediately, his words sending a euphoric shockwave of lust to your core. Rationally, it’s a terrible fucking idea, kinda a public misdemeanor, and just borderline nasty. Sure, it’s late as hell, but River’s office isn’t the only damn one in his building. Getting caught is the last thing either of you need right now, but fuck, you both need eachother like you need oxygen. Neither of you want to hold back.  

Truth be told, you’d give anything to be fucked right here and now. This was a side of River Ward you’ve never really seen before— and you’re here for it. 

“Huh,” Johnny appears in your line of vision—lighting up a conjured cigarette from the depths of your imagination. He takes a long drag before exhaling,  the digital smoke dancing in the dim lighting around you. “…Didn’t actually think he had it in him to do that type of shit.”

You don’t even hear Johnny at this point. You completely push him aside. 

“Here? In your office?” You repeat, a sly, shit-eating grin stretching across your face. “Isn’t that a lil risky, Detective Ward?” 

River’s staring down at you like you’re about to become his dinner, both his dark amber eye and white mechanical one bearing into yours in anticipation of your answer. You’ve never seen him so… feral. You’re almost intimidated. 

“Don’t start, V..” He growls, the warmth of his ‘ganic hand brushes tenderly against your cheek, before he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “…Risky isn’t something that’s bothered you before, has it now, little merc?” 

So of course, you feed into him. You know how to play him better than he can play himself. Your hands reach down to his chest, slowly down to the loops of his belt. You give it a weak little tug, all whilst maintaining eye contact. Innocently, you look up at him, batting your eyelashes— then you shake your head. “Never has, never will, Detective Ward.” 

He can’t deny that, can’t deny you— not when you look at him like that. “That’s what I thought,” A wild grin stretches across his face—his usual soft demeanor now completely thrown out the window. He presses a brief, sloppy kiss to your lips before pulling away. 

 “Keep at it, then. See if you can handle me.”

There’s something about the way he delivers the words that makes you tremble, like prey standing helplessly before its predator. River doesn’t stop there—he growls; dragging his lips to your neck; trailing sloppy bites, spattering blues and purple marks. Before you can miss the heat of his hands they’re back on your waist, slowly just trailing down your sides. River’s hands are fucking huge— able to cover you almost entirely, and it makes you shudder a little. Sure, you’re dangerous enough, could easily handle him in a fight, but sometimes you felt like River could really snap you in half if he really wanted to. 

His fingers travel underneath the hemline of your shirt, caressing against your bare skin. His ganic’ hand against you is so warm, almost burning against your skin, while his damn-near freezing metal hand makes you shudder. It’s a familiar balancing of the two sensations that you hold so so dear, and your appreciation for the feeling only amplifies  when they slide underneath your bra. 

River stops in his tracks hands rising to grasp at your chest, squeezing your sensitive nipples for just a second, and you fucking whimper. This time, he offers you some reprise— and finally tugs both your shirt and your bra off of you, leaving you exposed to the cool air of his office. 

River swore your body was a fucking work of art, dimly-lit curves protruding through the darkness of the office, your hard nipples perking up at the coolness surrounding you. You look so cute when you shiver just a teeny bit when his thumb runs over your nipple. River smiles dumbly at you, a breathy little chuckle escaping him. 

“Best merc in all of Night City…” His deft fingertips move towards the waistband of your shorts, tearing them off of you as if they were nothing before stopping abruptly to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. “…And I’m about to fuck her stupid.”

You shiver a little at his words— your cheeks heating up, a familiar burn rising in your lower stomach. And before you can even respond, River’s pushing everything on his desk to the side, sending stacks of paper cascading to the floor, and he’s grabbing your ass again, lifting you up to rest your ass against the cool metal of the desk. 

River lowers himself to your ear— his voice real low. “Gonna take care of you now, pretty girl.” 

His big hands reach for your panties, deftly  tearing them down to your thighs. The air in the office is cool, and you shudder when his warm palms spread your thighs apart. Rough, calloused fingers inch between your legs to your glistening cunt, spreading your folds and slipping his digits into the wetness of your slit, moving up and down, collecting your slick with each little passing movement.

You can’t help the helpless curse that escapes your lips when his thumb slides across your wetness, before pressing it so softly over your now-exposed clit. You reel back with a desperate moan— and you begin to throb. Fuck. Shit. You feel so vulnerable and desperate, your thighs spread open for him on top of his desk, just waiting for his next move as he stares down at you with hunger shining in his eyes. 

River’s literally rock hard at this point, literally aching to be inside of you, but shit, you just look soo soo cute already, and you’re just so fucking needy for him. And all he had to do was call for you. 

River leans down to your level, taking the sensitive bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around against it, before switching to a soft suckling. His touch is tender— gentle, 

and sends little jolts of lust down your spine.  “F—Feels good…” you whimper weakly. 

He pulls away when you wiggle against him, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to his lips. You exhale deeply, eyebrows knitting together as your hips arch up a little— but you’re growing impatient again. You want, no, you need, more of him. Your core’s literally on fire. You swear, your mind is beginning to fog with nothing but the thought of his dick. You’re just so fucking horny— and he’s refusing to give you what you want. 

You’re about to beg him for more again— but before you can, his hands are on your hips, pulling you towards the edge of the desk so your legs drape off almost entirely. You know what River is about to do when he settles down on his knees between your thighs, his gigantic hands coming up to press them apart against the cool metal. 

River can't help but to stop dead in his tracks for a second to stare at your cute pussy glistening so heavenly in the dim light of his office. Man, it made his night at work actually totally fucking worth it. He was so grateful for his pretty merc, so grateful you allow him to delve between your thighs after a hard day. 

But the way he’s staring down at you sends literal goosebumps across your skin, he’s just enjoying the view for juuuuusstt a second. He can’t help but to admire your glistening cunt— you’re just too damn pretty. 

“Missed this preem pussy of yours, baby…” He sighs against you. “Can’t ever get enough.”

But you’re growing fucking impatient, the way he’s staring at you makes your insides burn and your pretty pussy drips eeeveen more against his desk.  “Stop starin’, hurry up…” 

“Nah,” he laughs. “Wanna enjoy the view first.” He's grinning as he parts your sticky folds with his thumb, rubbing tenderly at your clit with his thumb. 

Your lips immediately fall open with a moan— his breath hot against your throbbing cunt as he gives you the attention you needed for so fucking long. 

He moves up, and this time, he flattens his rough tongue to your dripping slit, sliding all the way up from your drenched hole, excruciatingly slow. Then, as if you weren’t already struggling to keep yourself under control, He folds his tongue up against your puffy clit, looking you dead in the eye. 

And you can’t take it. 

You shiver underneath him, cheeks flushing as you turn your head away to avoid his gaze. But oh, he knows how much he’s embarrassing you, and he loves it. He pulls away from your sopping cunt, his voice switching to a soft coo. “Awww, baby…” He pulls away from you. “Can you look at me, lil’ merc?”

He almost loses it when you peer down him with that cute, innocent gaze of yours when you each for his beefy shoulders, trying so hard to stop your thighs from squeezing around him as he starts slurping at your aching bud. “Good girl… Always followin’ orders..”

You whimper soft curses into the night’s air, his name leaves your lips, and River perks up— letting out a little pleased hum against you. Then, he wraps his beefy ganic’ arm around your hips, holding you close to him as his cold metal fingers brush against your wetness, before sliding into your tight hole. 

A jolt is ripped through you, a whine escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion. You can feel the way his fingers stretch you out with such ease— they’re fucking thick, and long— they reach so so deep inside of you. “Y—You’re reachin’ deep, Riv...” A filthy moan falls from your parted lips. 

And he grins, tapping his fingers faster against your sopping walls. “You’re so fucking needy— s’ cute,” River chuckles.  “You’re just as bad as I am..” he whispers, and begins to drive his digits in and out of your sloppy cunt. Immediately, your back arches— and within seconds, he’s ripping desperate little whimpers from your throat as he renders you fucked dumb with his fingers alone. 

You sob out a little curse—using what little strength you had left from the day to squeeze your thighs around his head. He’s filling you nearly full again, your tightness constricting around his single digit. 

Instead of pushing your thighs away, he embraces it, siding his free hand underneath your ass to guide your tired hips as he presses a sloppy wet kiss to your aching bud, slipping in another finger. This time, you cry out— and you buck your needy hips against his face. 

“Careful now,” River warns, tightening his strong grip on your hips, actually holding your hips down now, “Be nice, baby…” he mumbles between your thighs, growling against your pussy. “Tough it out fr’ me and stay still.”

A little twinge of embarrassment runs down your spine. You truly cannot help it. “Y—Yes sir…” you absent-mindedly moan.  You're barely holding it together. 

“Sir?” River repeats, big fingers are drilling in and out of you, stretching you just so perfectly. “Is that what you’re calling me now?” His digits tap soo deeply inside of you, fucking you harder and deeper than your own ever possibly could.

“Look at you, V… you’re fuckin’ desperate fr’ me. Turned you into my whore again real quick.”

 His words make you fucking throb— and you can’t do anything but whimper incoherent little cries of pure humiliation, and you try to bury your face in your hands as your cheeks burn.  

Your boyfriend, however, immediately catches on to your embarrassmenf. River’s voice lowers to a soft coo—“Didn’t tell you to stop callin’ me that, now did I?” he pulls away from your hole for just a quick second— ceasing his abuse to give your clit a quick little kiss of appreciation, eyes looking up at you as if you were his fucking universe. “Keep at it, lil’ merc. Doin’ sooo good for me.”

And then he begins again, sucking and licking at your poor clit. God, you love him. You’ve always lost your fucking mind whenever River stuffed his big fingers inside of you, it just feels so good. 

Even worse, he’s literally moaning against you, sending little vibrations throughout you. It’s far too much, he’s soo mean, but you couldn’t possibly get enough of the euphoria he’s giving you— you feel like you’re fucking drowning. 

You want to buck your hips against him so so badly, but you know fighting is futile at this point. So, your tired thighs begin to shake beneath him, your drippy pussy already beginning to throb in anticipation of an incoming orgasm. You’re fucked. 

“River— Detective— Sir…” you choke out. “M’gonna… gonna cum.”

He can feel the way your thighs tighten around him, the way your sharp nails start to dig and scratch into his big shoulders. Your cute sloppy cunt is starting to twitch and pulse beneath his licks, and your pretty face starts to twist in pure euphoric bliss. River hums against you, a pussy-drunk grin plastered on his face. He knows you’re gonna cum, and he’s being damn-smug about it. 

But oh, he can’t take it. You feel the coolness of his metal hand against your ass, and before you feel inclined to face him, you hear the telltale “ziiip!” and shuffling of fabric as he pulls down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his throbbing, rock-hard cock with one hand, running his ganic hand up and down against his hard shaft. Anything to keep those thoughts of fucking you at bay (for now). 

He’s so fucking mean with the way he’s eating you out, overstimulainng your already sensitive cunt hard. No matter how hard your shaky thighs try to squeeze around his head, he just keeps sucking your clit, shoving his thick fingers in and out of you as your stomach coils and your cunt throbs. You’re cumming. And you can’t help it anymore. 

You’re well-past the point of giving a fuck about how loud you were being. You lose yourself, then. “Give it to me, V,” he groans against you, and his name falls from your lips like a prayer— a mantra. You’re keening into sweet “ah-ah-ah’s” as he slurps at your cunt, repeatedly tapping his big, thick metal fingers inside of you, devouring you whole. 

River’s heart flutters in his chest when he feels your legs begin to shake in his rough grasp as you finally gush all over him. He can’t decide whether to focus on your fucked-out face, looking all cute with your saliva-coated lips forced ajar, your eyes all glossy— or your destroyed, soaked, puffy cunt. 

“Love my messy lil’ merc..” He coos softly in your ear. “Got no idea how proud I am, pretty girl...”

Your cunt squelches and drips onto the desk everytime he pulls his cool metal fingers in and out— fucking you through your explosive orgasm, and you’re just whimpering and moaning so fucking much. He’s forcing electrical shocks down your tired body as he renders you destroyed with his tongue alone. 

But oh, you ache for the way his throbbing cock splits you in two, you miss his little whimpers and groans when your tight, sloppy pussy hugs him tight. 

And suddenly, you’re overcome with the desire for more. 

River continues pumping his veiny shaft in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers as little moans fall from both of you. You squeal when his harsh licks become too much for your overstimulated pussy, yanking your thighs away from his head. 

He stops immediately—pulling himself away from you,  and looks back up at you with his entrancing white mechanical eye with such genuine concern, eyebrows raising as he stares up at you. “You okay, baby?” 

You pant— breaths heaving from your chest, and River rests his head against your plush thighs, looking up at you with concern. You sit there for a minute, panting. Your pussy pulsates and throbs beneath you, and you’re completely and utterly overwhelmed already. But fuck, there’s something else inside of you— and it wants more. No, you need more of him. You ache for his cock. 

You collect yourself— you want him now. “Y—Yeah, m’fine…” you pant. “…Want you to fuck me now, Riv… please,” you pant. 

River grins— a little pleased hum falling from his lips as he presses a little soft kiss to your thigh. “You sure, V?”

“Please, sir…” you whine, wiggling your hips. You truly, genuinely swear you need him inside of you at this point. 

“That’s all you needed to say,” he whispers. With little warning, his metal hand gives your ass a slap, your body jolting with a nasty moan. “Breathe deep for me an’ stay still.”

You just can’t help but to follow his command, allowing yourself to take a deep breath in, bracing yourself against the desk. River’s cock is literally throbbing. He’s been aching to be inside of you since the moment you fuckin’ walked in. He slides his thick cock against against your slick, soaked folds up against your sore, aching clit. He chuckles when you let out a little whimper. But truth is, he’s just as down bad. You’re so fucking wet, so warm— he needs you now. 

You feel his tip prod at your hole again— but this time he’s pressing deeper and he’s giving into what you both want.

Your chest heaves and struggles for air as your glossy eyes stare back into his, whimpering so so softly as River gently begins to roll his hips, the tip of his cock nudging at your slit with each slide up, his ganic’ hand resting on your lower tummy to press down, while his metal hand slides up your body to press against your throat.

River’s thickness slides all the way into you until he finally bottoms out. Your mouth falls agape as he knocks the wind from your lungs. He’s fucking big. Thick. Hard. His eyes hungrily trace over your body; observing how your chest rose and fell, your scarred body shaking in his arms; legs trembling as you struggle to take him fully.

And although this definitely isn’t your first time, you briefly struggle to handle his size, and it even aches a little. It’s been too fucking long since he’s filled you like this, and you both know it. “Forgot how—forgot how big you are..” you breathe. 

River, on the other hand, is in heaven. 

You’re literally dripping around him, hole clenching tight around him as his cock struggles to stay still inside of you. His big, beefy arms come down besides you— pinning you down to the desk. “You’re so tight, V. Haven’t been stretched out good in a while, huh?”

You shake your head. His cockhead is literally nudging at your cervix, and it’s making you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You feel… good. 

“Think you can handle this dick?” he smiles, and you nod, your eyes fluttering open as 

River’s metal hand wraps around the back of your neck, his fingers coldly pressing up against the sides of your throat as he squeezes. 

“Yes, sir!” you cry out hoarsely. The feeling of his firm fingers pressed firmly against your throat makes you fucking weak— causes you to get eeeeven wetter, and even more fucking desperate for him. 

River is letting out low groans that echoes within the quietness of the room as his hard cock delves into you. He just can’t help himself— his lil merc’s pussy takes him too fucking good, and he can’t help the way his hips rentlessly slam into you.

He’s ripping pathetic, high-pitched whines and whimpers from your lips, loving the way your smaller hands hands grab at his shoulders for dear-fucking-life as he fills you to the very brim, the tip of his leaky cock pressing agaisnt your cervix. It feels… amazing. You can’t help but to be vocal—River’s cock always stretches you out so so fucking well, and there’s even a little ache from the way he stuffs you completely full over and over again, slamming you into the desk with little remorse, just using you like a fucking toy. You’re trying sooooo hard to compose yourself, to keep yourself from sobbing and clawing at him. But oh, you’re such a terrible liar, you’re enjoying him sooo much. 

His dick is literally rock-hard, even beginning to tremble a little bit inside of you, and he has to force his hips to stop. He takes a shaky breath, a low groan falling from his lips, and you can’t help but to just stare at him, his eyed half-lidded, mechanical one dimming softly against the darkness. He’s soooo needy and it's just straight up adorable. He’s literally aching to fuck you stupid, it fucking kills you. But god, it’s just the perfect opportunity to tease him a little bit.

A little smug grin forms across your lips as an idea pops into mind. Ever-so-slowly, you begin to move and grin your roll hips back against River’s, fucking yourself back into him the best you possibly could given his huge size. “Thinka— ah—Think you can handle me, Detective?” 

But River’s not having it tonight. Not about to handle shit from his dangerous little doll, not about to let you, the most dangerous merc in Night City, win this one. His hips snap to yours viciously, pulling his thick cock all the way out before pumping it back up to you full-force, filling you to the literal brim over and over again. “Don’t start shit with me now, baby,” River growls. “You were doing sooo well— was bein’ such a good little merc for me..” he coos. 

River’s hand grabs at your hips again and forces hard hits into you. It’s far too much for your little mind to handle, but by god, you loved it.  River can’t get enough of the way your nails dig into his back, the way your legs kick out over and over from underneath him as you struggle to bring yourself to form words. “S—Sorry, Detective Ward..” you sob 

He peels himself off of you, bracing himself internally as his hands move to pry your legs apart as he forces himself even deeper. River’s voice is a deep growl, as if encouraging you to acknowledge the mess he’s making between your thighs. “Guess we know not to talk back now, huh baby?” 

River grins when you cry out little “uh huhs” and hips begin to ram into your ass, big hands digging into your hips for leverage. With each thrust, he’s knocking the air out of your lungs, forcing literal jolts of pleasure to fire from synapses.

Through the tiniest, weakest gasps, and through the soft, wet sounds of River fucking himself into your dripping pussy, you feel like you’ve already been broken in at this point. Purely fucked stupid. Your brain’s beginning to feel like it’s short-circuiting, your core’s on fucking fire. 

You’re totally unaware of yourself at this point as he slams against your ass, uncaring as you let desperate, depraved whiny moans escape your lips. You sound filthy— you no longer care about getting caught, the only thing on your mind is him. Your pussy squelches against the quietness of the office, your nasty moans bouncing off of the walls. All you can do is hiccup little “thankyouthankyouthankyou!!’s” as River stuffs you full, and he loves it. 

“There you go, V. Good girl, givin’ in….finally.”

A gasp escapes you, your pussy clamping down on him as you nod over and over again. But he can’t help but to give you a little chuckle as his ganic hand wraps around the your throat juuuusssttt enough to squeeze a little. And oh, just like that, he’s entirely set you off. Within minutes, he’s fucked the most dangerous merc in Night City into submission. What a fuckin’ achievement that one is. 

You’re so so out of it, mind dumb from the combined pain and pleasure. the wetness of your cunt squelches and drips whenever he pulls out his cock to fuck it deeper. Your slick even drips down his balls— and it drives him fucking crazy.  River is ripping sobs and little hiccups  of pleasure from your throat as he angles his cock deep inside, almost folding you in half, your knees wrapped right around his back to hold him deeper. But fuck, he’s getting loud too. You both are. 

You’re fucked out by your pretty cop boyfriend. You. The most dangerous merc around. It’s a funny fucking thought, almost. Johnny’s gonna lose his shit again after this, but your head is literally spinning, your thighs beginning to tremble against River’s mean thrusts. You feel drunk off of him, and your pussy literally trembles whenever he looks you dead in the eyes as he fucks the life outta you.

 You swear your system is genuinely being overloaded by sheer fucking pleasure. Jolts of electrical euphoria slide down to your best spots over and over again. But there’s a creeping, burning feeling burning up within you, and your body seizes. 

Fuck. You’re already close. Like the obedient merc you are, you warn your detective, even as tears of dumbfound pleasure slide down to your cheeks, even as you struggle to let the words fall from your lips. “C—Close!!” you hiccup. 

“Already, baby? Finishing up so soon?” River teases, and he can’t help but to stare down at you at the absolute, utter enchanting way tears begin to spill from the corners of your eyelids as you try so fucking hard to hold your orgasm back for him, to not let it overtake you even when your tummy coils and you’re forced to heave out your little breaths and moans as he literally fucks the air from your lungs. 

“Riiiivvvvv…” you whine, half-kisses eyes

closing. “Jus.. jus’ lemme finish..”

He can feel the way your juicy pussy attempts to milk him dry, the way your entire whole body shivers and trembles beneath him. River presses a little kiss to your forehead, still driving his hips into yours. “Hang on a little while longer for me, yeah?”

River swears, you look fucking adorable. All spread out beneath him on his desk, your nails desperately scratching at his bare back while you try to wrap your legs around his waist. Your eyes are tear-filled and glazed over— your mouth slightly agape. He’s grunting, panting— River feels every little contraction and pulse of your tight cunt around his thick, veiny cock.  can’t hold back for any longer— he needs you to finish.You’re trying sooo hard to hold yourself back, and fuck, it’s adorable—he can’t help but just to tease you a little. 

River hunches over you, getting real close in between his ruthless thrusts and little groans of pleasure, his voice is hoarse— low, as if he’s struggling to keep himself together. 

“Ask nicely, V.”

A twinge of embarrassment shoots down to your core at his filthy demand. At this point, you know you’ve got no choice but to obey. You open your mouth, and let the sinful, filthy words you know he wants to hear slide from your lips, and you sure as hell can’t tell whether you love it or hate him for it. 

 “Please let me cum, Detective,” you whine, your chest beginning to heave as you struggle to hold yourself back from releasing just yet. It’s fucking almost painful the way you’d body convulses and just seizes; he’s just giving you too much pleasure.  “Been s—soo good for you… been takin’ alla you so well…” You babble out, the first tears of pleasure beginning to slide down your puffy cheeks. 

 “I want you, River. Need you now. Need this. Please, just let me—please…” you beg. And River finally gives in, leaning down to press a little kiss to your forehead whilst in the middle of absolutely destroying you. 

And oh, River Ward just couldn’t get enough. 

A little smirk of satisfaction spreads across his face at your debauched little begs. River was always so proud whenever he got to make his lil merc finish— and just fucking looved to hear you beg beneath him. 

“Go ahead, little mercenary, you can cum for me,” River growls, relishing in the way your pussy tightens when he growls deeply in your ear. “N’ don’t hold back on me, sweetheart.”

So you finally heed his command, and finally let go of the insane amount of tension building up within your stomach. Within seconds, you’re gushing against him, pussy constricting impossibly tightly around his dick, and your entire body jolts— your back arches entirely off of the desk as your jaw goes entirely slack. You’re genuinely not able to talk, you’re too fucking absorbed in able to letting the crashing euphoria overtake you. 

“O-Oh, Fuu—ckkk…” River groans, his voice cracking so subtly sweet as he struggles to chase his own orgasm. You’re literally milking him for all he’s worth— and it’s been too long, he’s literally aching to cum, and you know it too. 

You’ve got him whimpering, his head is thrown fowards as he fucks you through his own orgasm. Through your half-lidded eyes, you watch your beloved detective. “Cum inside… please, Riv. N—Need it,” you cry out. 

River chuckles—his  thrusts are animalistic— borderline furious as he drives his hips into yours. “Remember, you asked for it, little mercenary…”

You literally can only watch when River rocks his hips back and forth into you, as if testing how deep he’s claimed his deadly merc. But even with a muddled mind and blurry eyes, even as your sweet detective boyfriend roughly grasps onto the meat of your thigh hard enough to bruise, you notice his hips beginning to falter, slow down, his own thighs beginning to tremble. 

You genuinely swear you catch his eyes rolling back for just a second.

“Fill… me… up,” you pant, and as if on cue, hips finally stop as he presses his weight onto you with a groan— and pushes himself as deep as possible, filling you up to the brim before he shoots velvety ropes inside, pumping you full of of his hot cum.  “Fuck—fuckfuckfuckfuck…” 

It’s just been so so long since’s he’s felt your warm,  pretty pussy clench around him, and he’s thrown over the fucking edge. He can’t bring himself to pull out, not like this, he just needs to enjoy the feeling of you milking him of all he’s worth, he needs you to take every single drop. It’s just been far too long since he’s last felt you like this. Around his trembling, aching dick, you clamp and squeeze against him in like a fucking godsend. He can’t get enough of your pretty pussy dripping all over him, letting him pump your pretty pussy full of his cum. 

You look utterly etheral in the dim glow of his office, naked, fucked-out, panting and heaving with tears of pure, dumb-founded pleasure running down your cheeks from the orgasm he genuinely ripped out of you after sooo long. 

You both sit still, quivering and shaking as you pant and struggle to breathe as you come down from your respective highs. 

Your eyes flutter open when he pulls out of you, a trail of cum sliding from your abused hole down to your ass. His calloused fingers cup your chin so so gently as he slides his overwhelmed cock against your soaked folds, still trying to savor your juices while he still could. 

Another moment of silence passes between you as you sit still for a minute, all spread out and panting. 

“Need you to look at me, V…” he pants, a dumbstruck little smile spreading across his face when you tilt your timid gaze up to meet his, your eyes fluttering open. The pad of his thumb slides across your cheek— and your heart burns with love at his gentle touch. “Thank you,” he breathes, voice shallow, chest heaving a little. “I… I needed that.” 

River's strong hands find their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space left to bridge. You willingly slump against him, finding solace in his warm embrace. 

"I know you did," you reply with a weak smile, your voice reduced to a meek whisper. With a shaky hand, you cup his jaw, your touch conveying more love and appreciation than your words ever could. "I needed that, too."

As you both lay entangled in each other's arms, the dim office around you seemed to fade away. The quiet hum of the city and the eerie darkness disappeared, replaced by the warmth of your long-awaited embrace. In the daring midst of Night City's chaos, you and River had finally reached a moment of peace and solace in each other's arms.

A lingering moment of silence passes, and River finally speaks, his voice raspy and exhausted. "V, let's go home. Can’t fuckin’ stand this office anymore..” he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back to gaze longingly into your eyes.

You meet his steely gaze,  your eyes locking with his. “Mhm... was thinkin’ the same thing," you replied with a knowing smile.

River’s strong, reassuring hands lift you off of his lap. With the most gentle and softest of touches, River helps you dress, sliding your clothes back onto your exhausted body. The moment is intimate—filled with an unspoken affection that neither of you dared to disturb. 

….Except for Johnny. 

Your digital companion strikes again, ashing out his cigarette against the concrete.

 “Well… guess the star-crossed lovers are finally on their way out. Enjoy this while you can, V— ain’t gonna last.”

You can’t bring yourself to bitch back right now— the moment between you and River is just too perfect, so you just mentally shrug off Johnny's caustic remark. You knew him well enough to understand that, beneath his shitty cynical exterior, he harbored some form of care for you. 

Johnny's holographic form appeared, leaning against a digital wall as he continued his tirade."I've seen a lot of 'em come and go, these star-crossed lovers," he spits, his tone still dripping with sarcasm. "But you, V, you always manage to surprise me. Guess I should be happy you found someone like River to put up with your crazy ass."

You can’t help but to laugh inwardly, your thoughts projecting to Johnny, "Well, aren't you just a bucket of sunshine today? You know what they say, Johnny, love makes the world go 'round."

He snortes, his cyber visage maintaining its cool composure. "Yeah, love. The most preem emotion in the 'verse, huh?"

Your smirk was evident in your mental reply, "Jealous, Johnny?"

He rolled his virtual eyes, flicking his digital cigarette away. "Nah, I've had my time, V. But for your sake, I hope it lasts."

As you and River reach the exit of the office building, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment, knowing that, for now, you have found a love that was worth cherishing, no matter what Johnny or Night City throws your way.

Hand in hand, you and River leave the office behind, heading toward the sanctuary of your shared world—where your love could flourish and bring you the peace you both desperately desired after such a long day. Home was where your hearts truly belonged, a place where you could find solace in each other's arms, where love thrived amid the bleary, unending chaos of the city around you. 

#literally took more than a month to write this. oopsies. #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk smut #river ward x reader #river ward #cyberpunk 2077 fic #river ward romance #river ward x v #v cyberpunk #cyberpunk2077 #silverv #cyberpunk phantom liberty #fem v cyberpunk #fem v #cp2077 #joce writes

[pacifierbby]

Summary - you and mason going to an haunted lunatic asylum. Mason used to only playing football while you were used to watching the creepy haunted videos on YouTube, so you decided that you were going to go to a haunted lunatic asylum and have a feel for you guys self.

Rewind- Grabbing hold of masons hand. "Shall we go upstairs?". Walking towards the bottom of the staircase, hearing two big bangs jumping ever so slightly "um what was that?"

Note- Hello Lovelies, I had to 2 part this series now, I guess, instead of imagine?

Warnings- swearing

HALLOWEEN

《Part 1

Slowly walking up the creeky stairs, making sure that the floor underneath them didn't break. Turning left, opening a door to what seemed to be a little boys' room, teddies stacked up onto each other on the bed lollipops and sweets in between the teddy's legs.

Slowly walking over to what seemed to be a white note picking it up unfolding the piece of paper mason wrapping his hands around me putting his chin on my shoulder "it's seems to be what happened to an investigation team when they came here" looking up at mason then back down at the note reading it to Mason

"we've tried to find out this little boys name but we've had nothing come back from our evp sessions it's like someone or something is holding this little boy back however we've had endless evps of the little boy shouting for his mummy making us sad when we hear it back after the evp sessions has ended however like you read online the team also had an encounter with the little boy.

The team was downstairs in the theater room looking at all the xrays and the other belonging that the nurses and doctors left when they heard a bang coming from upstairs the guys ran towards the stairscase and shined the light ontop of the stairs and their he was just standing there he seemed confused and lost just so much sadness in his eyes. but before the team could even react the boy vanished" finishing reading the note placing it back onto the Teddy bears arms turning around "that's so sad but I'm just wondering if his mummy passed away in this hospital and that's why he's stuck here he's trying to find his mummy?" Giving mason a hug a little bit of tears coming from your eyes mason rubbing it away "that could be true my love" sighing a little looking back around the room shelves been put up with more teddy's placed on the shelves and old music instruments mason giving you a light kiss on your head.

Hearing another massive Lound bang a lot louder and a lot closer than the last one before, "What was that!" Grabbing hold of masons jumper." I don't know, but we should look, " Mason said, letting go of you walking towards the door. When you turned around the corner there inbetween the two other doors stood the little boy the same little boy that people have been talking about online the boy that investigation team was talking about in the note you and mason doing a massive scream grabbing each others hands rushing down the stairs not caring about the floor this time running where the door had the tape on rushing towards the window your nor mason not even bothering to looking back jumping out of the window running to the car mason quickly unlocking it both jumping in "what the fuck" you expressed looking back at the window then back at mason.

Mason stiff with his hands on the wheel "we should get out of here" mason quickly said turning the engine on the car roared making the journey back home. Getting outside of the car grabbing the bag from the backseat walking towards Mason who was unlocking the front door once you both sat in your livingroom instantly cuddling up together netheir of you not knowing what to say to each other. Leaning over to grab the TV remote putting on Netflix Clicking on another unsolved murder documentary "did we actually see that" mason expressed making you jump "we sure did" you nor mason not even talking about what happened at the asylum both of you settled on your couch.

#imagines #football imagine #mason mount fanfic #imagine #mason mount imagines #masonmounty/n #mason mount #masonmountoneshots #football imagines #football fanfic #manchester united #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagine #mason mount one shot #mason mount x reader fanfic #mason mount x oc #mason mount x you #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x reader #mason mount y/n #mason mount y/n fanfic

[aquitainequeen]

Hannah Ritchie used to be convinced that she didn’t have a future to live for. Now, a new book by the myth-busting data expert and climate ‘solutionist’ shows how we can all replace the ‘deadweight’ of endless unsolvable problems with useful, urgent optimism Posters in hand, a 13-year-old Hannah Ritchie stood before classmates at Falkirk high school gloomily forecasting runaway global warming and rising oceans. This much of the planet would be flooded at two degrees, this much more at three degrees. The world was slipping into a watery abyss, she told them. Now 29 and a renowned environmental scientist, Ritchie’s work speaks to audiences of hundreds of thousands, and instead of being laden with doom it is radically hopeful. After diving deep into the data on some of the world’s most pressing problems, she’s surfaced as a rare, positive, fact-based voice. For the first time in humankind’s history, Ritchie argues, true sustainability is tantalisingly within reach.

Read more from Robin Eveleigh!

#positive news #positive.news #hope punk #Environment #Lifestyle #Perspective #Society #data mining #things to think upon

[msmcnevertweet]

GHOULBOYS - Where ghosts are real, or not I guess.

GHOULBOYS is a one-shot horror/comedy TTRPG for 3 players. It's about amateur paranormal investigators hunting for ghosts in supposedly haunted locales, interpreting evidence and bullshitting with their friends. I made this one! I love ghost things! Let's talk about them! But first...

Will we finally answer the question... are ghosts real?

Inspired by shows and games like Ghost Files, Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural, Phasmophobia and Most Haunted, you'll play as one of three classes:

The BELIEVER, trying to uncover evidence that the paranormal is real, and detail the nature of the supposed haunting.

The SCEPTIC, who believes that everything has a reasonable explanation, and the idea of ghosts is kinda funny. 

The PRODUCER, who’s recording this whole thing, and looking out for what the other two might miss.

It's a GMless game where you and your two friends fuck around in abandoned buildings with spirit boxes, motion sensors, and turn the gain up on your microphone incredibly loudly to hear what might, maybe have someone saying half a word.

If that sounds cool, it's $5 until the end of the month!

My friends it is time to peer closely at a blurry photo

YES IT'S TIME FOR MORE SELF INDULGENCE BELOW THE CUT.

(Potential) Spoilers for: Ghostwatch and The Blair Witch Project.

Bro bro bro did you see that bro BRO

When I was a teen posessed by the grim specter of an idea known as "Thinking I was a guy", I used to get very stoned and sit in cars with my friends and drive around at night. Being stoned with The Lads was a good way of pretending I wasn't possessed, I guess.

One time we drove to a supposedly haunted stretch of road; the story was that a woman who lived nearby had gone out onto the road late at night and been hit by a car and killed. If you drove along that road at the time of her death, you might see her, wearing the nightgown she died in.

After about an hour of driving up and down the road, we were about to give up. The driver swung into a driveway to turn the car around, and out of the pitch blackness, I saw it. White, twisted, grasping. It was just a flash, but I know what I saw. I screamed, my friends screamed, the tires of the car screamed as they span griplessly on the tarmac for that endless split second before it pulled away.

Yes of course it was a fucking tree. But for at least 5 minutes, we all believed I'd seen her. As plain as day, a dead woman in a nightgown had grasped at me on the other side of the windscreen through the darkness. The real fear lasted seconds. The adrenaline lasted a few minutes. The laughs lasted for a while afterwards.

I don't believe in ghosts. But the idea of them has the power to make us conjure them. We stare at the fuzzy frozen frame of video and think we can see a form, a face. We listen to the overpowering static hum of a shotgun mic pointed into a hallway and swear we hear a voice. We peer into the darkness, and our brains connect the dots we've decided are there. We want to be scared, especially when we can laugh about it afterwards.

It's just the Pipes

If you know the Orson Welles' War of the Worlds radio broadcast, Ghostwatch pulls a similar trick. It's 1992, you've sat down to watch a live TV show doing a "scientific investigation" into a haunted suburban home with Big Name TV News Guy Michael Parkinson, Big Name TV "Robot Wars" Guy Craig Charles, and a bunch of other Big Name TV people I don't really know.

The house is supposedly possessed by a malevolent evil spirit who the homeowners kids call Pipes. They hear banging noises at night, their mom tells them "It's just the pipes." Watch along at home, phone in using the number on your screens with your ghost stories, and you know, just in case you maybe see anything on the footage that we might miss.

It's staged, of course, and staged incredibly. It's very fucking creepy. Kitchy, mundane 90's TV gives way slowly to creeping dread that never seems to stop creeping, eventually arriving at a terminus of full on Blair Witch surrealness. It drew so many complaints from people whose children were turned to traumatised wrecks that it was banned from being broadcast for 10 years.

Probably because the newscaster they saw on TV every day turned, in the course of about half an hour, from this

To this

There's not really many clips on youtube but trust me, it's good. It's slow. Give it a chance, you should watch it.

Josh? Is that you down there?

There's so many jokes about The Blair Witch Project, but that's not because it's bad. I mean, it IS kind of bad, and that's the point. Heather, Josh and Mike are just amateur film makers making a documentary on a shoestring budget, about the mystery of the Blair Witch, the details of which matter little to what happens next. The jokes are attempts by people trying to break the hold the film has on them. But it holds on tight.

It works so well because it's so sparse. The minimal, natural sets, the handheld footage, the we're-not-even-really-acting-I'm-actually-kinda-just-creeped-out performances. The characters talk like convincingly kinda shitty people, deal with getting lost like real people, argue like convincingly scared people. It explains nothing about the greater mystery, cares not for any attempt to make sense of what's going on, all it wants to do is slowly drag you to it's stark, screaming conclusion.

Like many successful horror films, it got a bunch of sequels which I've not seen, and don't care to. It doesn't need them.

Ok but what about real ghosts

There's something about a weird dollar store Trent Reznor and his bros crawling around a tourist spot that makes Ghost Adventures so fun to watch. Trant Reznot is out here shouting at ghosts with his whole chest like "I HEARD YOU DON'T LIKE BIG LIGHTS SHINING IN YOUR FACE HUH", and it's great. When the often questionable "activity" occurs, it's rarely actually spooky in any way, but the deadly serious way with which they describe the mote of light (read: dust particle) moving across the footage that it's endearing.

These shows (Most Haunted, 28 Days Haunted, et al) tend towards having a pseudo "intellectual" angle. Ghost Adventures doesn't care, it's listening to Tool in it's car outside the high school, passing you a joint and saying "Isn't it fucked up that people die, but like, aren't gone, man?" I can't tell if it doesn't take itself too seriously, or if it just doesn't really know how to be serious, but it's good.

Hey there demons, it's me... ya boi

I watched so much god damn Buzzfeed Unsolved through Covid. I watched it until the early hours of the morning, until I'd successfully creeped myself out to the point where I had to run from the living room to the bedroom in the dark to avoid the Texarkana Phantom Killer that my brain had successfully materialised just behind the back of my head.

Somehow Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural - it's sister show focused on.. well, supernatural stuff, and it's successor Ghost Files manages to be both scary, whilst also simultaneously very stupid and funny.

Both Shane and Ryan are always ready to be scared, but they're also both ready to laugh. They have a very endearing camaraderie too, like two kids in class trying to get the each other told off by the teacher, and despite the semi serious presentation, unlike Ghost Adventures they're not precious about trying to make sure you're scared. It invites you laugh and be afraid in equal measure, and it feels natural, especially in the early episodes. If Ryan is freaking out about the Waverly Hills Hospital body chute, it's because.. well.. watch the video? I would absolutely not go down there.

This tension between laughing and screaming drives the show. The balance between spooky-funny and spooky-scary is a delicate one. Ryan and Shane are great at knowing when to tip that balance, one way or the other.

It's easily the single biggest influence on Ghoulboys (I mean, of course it is?) because of this. When playing, you're always caught in this in-between moment that the Ghoulboys themselves do so well. Waiting for something to fall over, the spirit box to speak, the SLS scanner to show a fleeting figure. Whether it's scary or silly, your brain is waiting for it, ready to draw the shapes of ghosts we want to see.

Thank you for coming to my Ghost TED Talk

Man ghost stuff is so good, real or fake. I just wanted to make a funny game that occasionally made you raise your eyebrows and look at each other like "Oh, shit..." and had lots of stupid ghost hunting equipment, and I think it worked out. Thanks for reading.

Again, if you want to check out Ghoulboys, it's $5 until the end of the month. Take a look! There's a video of me and some friends playing it!

#ttrpg #horror #indie ttrpg #buzzfeed supernatural #ghost files #paranormal #incredible self indulgence #Youtube #buzzfeed unsolved