#i died when he put fyodor’s arm NEXT TO HIS FACE

[yuyonyu]

Gogol’s unrequited love

#i died when he put fyodor’s arm NEXT TO HIS FACE #it’s kind of sad how nikolai’s feeling is one sided #he’s a widow now #congrats on joining the dead husband club #except that fyodor’s probably not dead💀 #skk lived too it’s not soukokover #the old man yaoi made me so miserable #bsd #bungou stray dogs #fyodor dostoevsky #nikolai gogol #gogol #fyolai #fanart #bsd fanart #art #fyodor really went KA BOOM BOOM

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* ┗━━━ ━━━┛ He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ┏━━━ ━━━┓ Quotes - Pushkin, Fyodor Tyutchev, Dostoyevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Warnings - heavy ANGST, some fluff Words - 3000

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Did i cry from my own fic? Yes? ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

4 years ago Bucky’s triggers words were present more than anything, anyone else in his life. Beneath the sheet of gleaming snow, his human-self slept for decades, frozen in time. And everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories : all of Winter’s footprints are effaced by her love, the waves of fury are at peace – she is his homeland shores, grounding his soul like an anchor. „Ah, my last love! Thou art both bliss and pain. And joy - and hopelessness-“ Bucky moves to sit next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her and pulls her in close until his head rests on her shoulder. „Doll, what are you quoting?“ he squints his eyes, quotes always brush against the edge of his curiosity, before taking a peek at her book. „My last love; Fyodor Tyutchev“ she proclaims, hardly attempting to hide her growing smirk. „Am I your last love?“ He drawls, a bit of sarcasm touching his tone, but he feels the seed of doubt embed in his heart at his own words echoes in his head. She just giggles, looking at him with glittering eyes, not moving from her comfortable repose. „Of course, Bucky“ She smiles and nods, before turning her gaze to the book once again, rolling the paper sheet between her fingers and gazing at it thoughtfully. „Read me more, I want to hear more“ he mumbles after completing an impressive yawn. He adjusts his position to get more comfortable on the couch as she continues to read, with his head on her lap. His soul is a wounded dove, it has a painful, longing call. A flying bird about to fall, that was poisoned, festered with the past…and now Bucky is surrendering in her embrace, and quietly drinks the healing rays of poem; of poetry - drinking mouthfuls from this healing light, her light – finally seeing the world bright and complete. "It is amazing what one ray of sunshine can do for a man!” ― Dostoyevsky 3 years ago „Snow, frost and sunshine ... Lovely morning! Yet you, dear love, its magic scorning, Are still abed ... Awake my sweet!“ Suddenly her voice sounds in the nothing of the night. Though no louder than falling snow, it cuts across the emptiness, so shocking in the endless silence that the words seem craved into his mind, crackle of emotions infuses the void of his soul after the nightmare. „Winter morning, Pushkin. Why do you always read me that when I have nightmares, doll?“ he feels an oppressive weight settling over him. „Because after a raging snowstorm, a lovely morning always follows, Bucky“ „Yeah, because you are the sunshine in my mornings“ He burbles out a delirious giggle as sweat streams down his face. Having her in his life is a kiss-inspired dream, he needs to touch her to make sure she is real. With his shoulders squared and his body tenses from the unknown reality, his hand gently outstretches to her face. She responds by inching impossibly closer into his palm with sliver of softness in her eyes. She is real.

2 years ago Nature is an artist as it strokes swiftly a winter wonderland. But now, wretches, every drop of blood — don't stain the innocent snow. The scene is set, exquisitely divine — snow always pluck the vibrating strings of Bucky's mind, but her voice is enough to make his worries melt away. Sometimes they talk of the past where еre any roamed or died. They talk of old times when Winter only meant death and not Christmas chimes. There is no wind to speak of, more an icy winter chill outside; because If he wants to overcome the whole world, he needs to overcome himself so they go for a walk to the park, snow crunching beneath their feet. Their hearts are not connected to each other through mutual understanding alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through the wounds of his past — hanging by a string, loosely holding him from collapsing. And she knows when thoughts are tossing him around, bathing in his blood — so she chooses to speak.

„I still remember that amazing moment. When you appeared before my sight. As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light.“

„Doll, I really think that you love Pushkin more than me“ „I remember reading him for the first time, it was so romantic“ „You are telling me that meeting me was not romantic?“ „Sometimes I just imagine meeting you in a café, far away from here - I imagine that nothing bad has happened to you, Bucky. Sometimes I wish you didn’t remember the past.“ And this is what Bucky learns now: that her love is an antidote to his worries, always, that stands within this otherness of the world, of nature — the beauty and the mystery of the Winter season, out in the fields or deep inside their favorite books at home — both those activities, her ideas; are re-dignifying his worst-stung soul. He doesn’t need to fight darkness. Bring the light, and darkness will disappear, she is his light. She uses his moment of distraction to move away and makes a small ball of snow and throws it right at his nose. „I was thinki-“ Bucky shouts as he wipes the snow from his face. She has the audacity to laugh as he removes the snow, and he decides to chase her. Bucky easily tackles her into the snow, putting his arm around her to make sure she wouldn't get hurt in the fall, faces very close together. „Now, this is romantic, Bucky“ He nodes his head, speechless still. To heal is to touch with love that which was previously touched by Hydra.

Present „How are you holding, Buck?“ „I’ve lived too long with the pain, I won’t know who am I without it“ „You still quote stuff just like you did with her, Buck. Why don’t you talk to her, she is still recovering I talked with her today“ „She doesn’t remember anything, I want her to move on“ his inquisitiveness nearly outweighed his reluctance to talking to Sam about it, attempting to simmer the flames of the protective nature over her. „She might remember, she needs time, Buck-“ Sam pressures him with a challenging look that he more than gladly returns. Bucky considers the proposal and the fact that Sam is giving him a guarded expression that seems so hopeful, followed by a slight nod of his head before speaking.

„The time I spend at Wakanda, with Shiru- I’ve decided to go with the procedure. I can’t trust my mind unless they restart my bra-“ „You can’t-“ Bucky rises from the chair and is halfway to the door of Sam’s house when he turns and says „Enough, Sam, please“

Bucky has fond a peace in nature which was irreplaceable once; he steps outside looking at the colorful sunset. The sun is out, but he is cold, eyes are wild, but the mind is asleep, the world is alive, but Bucky has dead. Nature is love, nature reminds him of her, but he is aloof of everything that screams live for today — he died the moment he woke up to her laying in the white sheets. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Flowers will grow back after he stepped on then and maybe in a less miserable times they may see each other again — all his grief says the same things „this is not how it’s supposed to be“ and the world laughs and holds at his hope by the throat „but this is how it is“ The final turn is that. Oh, how strongly grabs them, the secret plot of fate and everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories: all of Bucky’s footprints of love are effaced by Winter, the waves of fury are not at peace – no longer is there a homeland shore, no longer someone grounds his lost soul like an anchor.

The sadness won’t last forever, he won’t be able to remember it and for the last time Bucky goes to sleep so he could see her in his dreams for the last time – she taught him everything except to how to live without her – the present feels like the past. It’s a fitting punishment for a monster to want something so much, to hold it in his arms and know beyond a doubt that he never deserved it, that he ruined it – his soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly shallows him whole –  Bucky is too gone to be healed – he almost robbed her of her life. Now, she will carry the scars forever, but he selfishly remembers their love, there was love and it was theirs. Bucky was too deeply afraid to face her, that the moment their eyes meet and she finds herself staring at a stranger and he will realize that he has become a person she no longer recognizes – he stares at the poem she left for him, it makes him smile, because it reminded him of him and her; of what they used to do – James doesn’t want this to be the end of the chapter but it is – it’s the end of the line for love – nothing ever ends poetically he realizes end and his trust to poetry, it was not beautiful – it was just pain. He performs autopsies on their conversations long ago – he can to lie Sam, but he can’t lie to the hole deep inside – he lets himself cry, it’s better than feeling nothing at – wearing her shirt, because it’s still smells like her, but it will soon fade like his memories of her, of everything, erased forever. How can he live with a conscience that suffers whilst acknowledging his sin; with the memory of knowing she left this poem behind, thinking she would die from his own hands? ◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥ I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet It burns so quietly within my soul, No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly, I loved you, At times too jealous and at times too shy. God grant you find another who will love you As tenderly and truthfully as I. Your sincerely, your Doll ◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

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„Excuse me for interrupting, but I just saw that you are reading `The Brothers Karamazov` and couldn’t resist coming to talk to you“ a calm voice cut through the silence. „Oh, I just wanted to reread it- you can sit with me“ She has a thoughtful look on her face, heart shattering into so many tiny fragments that it is hard to speak, it leaves her incredulously blinking when she sees his blue eyes eerily crystalline. She only heard about him in periodic whispers over the mouths, hearing about his recovery and adjustment to life all over again.   She never intended to stay long, but she does because it is peaceful and she is not in a rush to leave, but his presence is overwhelming, feeling the presence of eternal harmony, fully achieved just like before. „I need to go for work, it was nice meeting you“   She senses that she should be following a different path, a path where their lines don’t cross. It is too much, she can barely breathes. There is a furious discontent from a moment, which verged on loathing; for her to have all of her memories and for him to be just a stranger taking interest in her book. This inexhaustible fantasy of them meeting again, of them reading books again – she needs to get out here of here, but then Bucky speaks and it’s impossible to smash the idea of them being together into splinters and turn it to dust – his eyes are the ocean, all flows and connects when their eyes meet. „Wait, can I get your number?“ he whispers from beside her, worry clear on his face at her sudden urge to go. He continues to stare intently into her eyes, waiting for their gazes to meet again and he feels his heartbeat speeding up.  „Oh?“ Bucky almost chokes on the air as she turns around to face him, not responding with any words. She just furrows her eyebrows slightly. And it hurts so good that its Bucky’s own free unfettered choice to ask her, to come speak with her. „I want to buy you a book“ his blue eyes trail from her eyes, to her lips thinking about how gorgeous this girl is. She is not sure which is worse – the intense feeling of him being here, or the absence of his previous love for her. Maybe it will be worse if she doesn’t let herself be part of his new life. She is too afraid of giving herself to someone she might lose again, she is too afraid that Winter might come again. Her loyalty to his past, to keeping it a secret its want cost her the most and she needs to bare all of her sins all over again, to keep a secret. „You don’t want to take me on a date?“ she questions while watching him with an amused gaze. „Yeah, yeah – I want to do that, too“ he responses with uncertainty laced in his voice, trying to hide a nervous laugh between closed lips. “You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again” „Is that a quote?“ he shrugged, looking startled. „Yeah, it’s from the book, James“ „How do you know my name?“ it is a tormenting thought that refuses to take shape, not even sure if he wants to know the explanation behind this. “I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer” Her eyes get a little teary, but she's quick to put a lid on her emotions, it is overwhelming that he doesn’t remember any of her favorite quotes, of the quotes she used to tell him. „Where is that from?“ „Idiot“ „Excuse me?“ „The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky“ she hesitatingly looks at him, he is already looking at her with those ocean blue orbits that hold so much kindness, curiosity, just as they used to. „Oh…that was clever, I will give you that“ he laughs to himself, shoulders shaking with humor. „And I will give you my number“ „Really?“ „No“ “We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken”

„That is from Crime and Punishment“ she purposely tries to add amusement to her voice, trying to appear as this has never happened before. She is frozen, words caught in her throat. „Yeah.“ He licks his bottom nervously. "O-okay, I will give you my number"

An invisible thread ties them together – the pull the drag deep inside beneath her skin, the heavy gravity of him. She loved him enough to spend forever waiting, no amount of time is ever enough and even one day if forever runs out, she will be fine, because it’s her decision waiting for Bucky, getting to love him all over again. To exist with him is her greatest privilege and pain – but he has settled into the depth of her soul because, she has found what she loves and it almost killed her – the thought of him forgetting her terrified her before, but it probably terrified him too before his mind was fully reset – she searches for quotes which remind her of them, but he probably did too. This time she is learning him slowly, taking her time; in no rush with her love – there are oceans in James’ eyes and when she looks at them, both emotions and memories hit me waves. Sometimes she wants to scream so loud that the ground trembles, there is so much fear and grief within her that she is decaying from the inside out and there is no one to help me but herself. She needs to stay silent, need to be here for him once again – she loved him and will love parts of him that are not easy to love, turning the pages gently and helping him re-write a happy ending to his narrative. She has loved none, but him and it cuts her soul a million times just to form a constellation to light his way home – angry and half in love with the new him and tremendously sorry for how it turned out for them – it’s not a metaphor, this ache, this fear of Winter all over – but all Bucky’s life was grey before meeting her one day at the café. He brushes up against pink and the barest touch and - the rest of his life is green again, green like Spring. He doesn’t know who he is and the cycle begins again – he pierces her soul ,she is half agony and half love – Bucky is too tangled there, finding his way back to her unknowingly.

And that’s how Bucky imagines it, meeting her all over again after his procedure - in a café, far away from here - he imagines that nothing bad has happened to her. Sometimes he wishes he was just Bucky, sometimes he wishes that the past has never happens - sorrow compresses his heart. His grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy of that daydream. Her memories never returned. Bucky’s memories were deleted successfully. They never met again. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Tag list⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ @dear-lolita @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @montyrokz @sarah5462 @mooievis @almosttoopizza @midnightramyeoncravings @itsmadamehydra @ravenromanoff @beetlejuicesupremacy @queenashen @kandis-mom @whitexwolfxx310 @msoldier @venting402 @avery199 @pandabearrrrrrr @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @tokoyamisstuff @happinessinthebeing

“The most monstrous monster is the monster with noble feelings” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Eternal Husband

#bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x y/n #bucky x y/n #winter solider imagine #bucky imagine #heavy angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x f #bucky x you #bucky x female yn #bucky x f!reader

[emily12345678910]

bsd x gn!reader

They find you "asleep" on the couch after a Argument

Warnings:suicide talk,cuss words (let me know if I missed anything)

Characters:Dazai,Chuuya,Ranpo,Poe,Kunikida,Jouno,Fyodor

Word count:2093

Note:I keep forgetting about the word count xD sorry I'll try and remember if there isn't anything just tell me and I'll get it done but if you don't mind it than don't ^^

please read:please ask me before posting my work on anything else if not at least give me credit

Dazai Osamu

Dazai left after your and his argument you got mad at him because he went a bit to far and when I mean a bit I mean he went over board on trying to kill himself where there where burns on his arms you have took your blanket and a pillow and went to bed on the couch he got back from his walk he went on to calm down and he saw you on the couch "asleep" he put his jacket away and walked to you and poked your cheek and said "dear I know your up and I'm sorry I should of sticked to the lake" you got up and turned but fell and he got you before you fell you huffed he hugged you and nuzzle his face in your neck and you tried to stay mad at him but he kept doing the cute things his does you got up and pushed him and sat on the couch crossing your arms and he picked you up bridal style like this

and went to your shared room and covered you up and said he will sleep on the couch but you just pulled him back and made him sleep on the bed

Chuuya Nakahara

He started to argue with you because you have been hanging with a boy for so long it ended with him pushing you away and walking out mad you took a blanket and pillow and went on the couch to leave him to the room alone he came back he sometimes liked it alone when he cake back you pretended you were sleeping he said "why aren't you in the room?" you ignored him you were still mad at him he thought you were cheating on him all you could think is why would he think that? You both have been together since he was 15 he asked again but saying "if your still mad it's annoying it's been hours-" you huffed and pulled the blanket over your head he said "doll listen I'm sorry it was just a bad day at work- I had trouble killing some guys, if it makes you feel better I almost died- even though you might not think that is good but I mean your mad at me so it was a win win right? Mori had to bandage up my arm- now I look like that dumbass Dazai but not a lot like him I'm sorry I know yout wo were close and all and I am talking shot about him-" you cut him off by throwing a pillow at his face you sat up and told him "you talk to much when you back don't you?" He looked at you and smiled and said "I learn from the best" you smacked his arm and he sat next to you and showed you his arm it was like Dazai's you said "oooooo maybe I should name you Dazai" he replied with "not funny" you giggled and kissed his cheek

Ranpo Edogawa

You two were fighting about how he went on a case and he got hurt well ok the case two of them and yes someone went with him but they didn't fight really (you choose) you and Ranpo don't fight the one time you did was when you had to go on a mission for a long time Yosano told you not to be so mad at Ranpo he did his best and the guy who tried to help kept saying sorry everyone was scared of you because well you are scary when you are mad you were now fighting with ranpo and at work yelling across the room both of you he said something he didn't mean you got up grabbed your jacket and left Dazai tried to stop you but you pushed him away you went out of the ADA's office somewhere away from ranpo anywhere after a bit you realized it was dark you went back to yours and ranpo's room he wasn't there probably at a case you got a blanket and pillow and went to sleep on the couch he cane back and said "your back!" You ignored him he huffed and put down a bag and poked you saying "sugar I bought some snacks" he kept poking you and soon enough you got up and he kissed you over and over again you tried not to laugh but you did ge kept doing it to he said "I'm sorry but I am fine now Yosano help me" you took the bag and he winned you got up and ran and he ran after you for his snacks

Poe Allan Edgar

He was working a bit to hard on a book you told him to stop and rest take a break for a few days but he didn't Karl jumped on your head during the argument Poe looked at him and said your taking her side? you tried taking Karl off but Poe just said to leave all you really wanted was to have Poe take a break you replied with "Poe listen just take a small break please?" He pushed you out with Karl on your head you took Karl off when Poe closed the door you looked at him and you were looking at him you kissed his forehead and said "he'll never take a break from thoes books will he?" Karl nodded and you walked away from Poe's office you went to yours and his house and sat on the couch you layed down and Karl got into a ball near your stomach he fell asleep and you were texting Poe he wasn't answering he came back a few hours later you heard him sigh and say "[name] was right-" he looked at you and walked to you poking you when you look slightly at him he said "I'm sorry" you picked Karl up slightly and sat up you put Karl next to you and you looked at Poe he had his head down saying "I should have listened to you how long have you been on the couch? You looked at him and you both talked a little Poe said "I'll take a break okay? I'm sorry I should of listened to you" you kissed his cheek and said "at least three days please Poe"

Kunikida Doppo

You were being lazy with your best friend Dazai he knew Dazai would but not you he yelled at you about it during work like he did with Dazai you didn't think he would get this mad he than said "I expedited better of you y/n" you didn't want to make him more mad in facted you wanted to leave but he always yelled at Dazai for leaving work or anything like that you were looking down but than the boss came in and told Ranpo a case opened up ranpo than said "I need someone to come with me" you hopped up out of your chair and said "I'll go!" Ranpo got up and walked to you and pulled you up saying "than let's go!" You looked at Kunikida and he was typing at his computer you blow your breath and grabbed you jacket than put it on Dazai waved bye to you and Ranpo you both went on the case you were silent when both got back to Kunikida yelling at Dazai you took off your jacket and you sat down Dazai and Kunikida looked at you Dazai said "oh hey y/n" you waved at Dazai and laid your head on the desk you heard Kunikida sigh after work he said he needed to do something before he goes to the room when you got to your room you took a blanket and and pillow and laid on the couch when Kunikida got back he looked at you and said "what are you doing?" You didn't answer he kept asking the questions he than said "if it is about today I'm sorry Dazai was a bit extra today I shouldn't have said that to you-" he knew you weren't going to bed you have waited for him he bought something to eat for you both you covered your face with the blanket he kissed for head and said "I bought you some food" you than sat up and looked at him he smiled and gave it to you and than sat next to you saying he was sorry again (not sure if any of you says a thanks or not but if you do just add that)

Jouno Saigiku

He kept coming home late all the time you didn't see him most of the time he would leave early come home late he would send someone over to get something if he forgot it the only time you hears from him was him texting you saying he was gonna be late you lost some sleep waiting for him this time you went to his work you knew he forgot something so you brought it for him and something to eat you talked to tecchou while waiting for your boyfriend he said I thought Jouno would send someone to get what he forgot you said "well he forgot something and nobody cane by to get it so I got it for him and something to eat" he replied with "I've noticed he as been at work more than with you it is like he is here 24/7, are you okay? Do you want me to hang out with you after I'm done" you looked down and said "I would love that but he wouldn't like it-" Jouno said "what are you doing here y/n?" You jumped up and looked at Jouno you replied with "fucking hell you are sneaky- but um you forgot your book so I brought it for you and something to eat" he looked over at tecchou and said "is that why when I asked someone to get it they said it wasn't there? And you weren't either" you said "yea-" you handed the things to him and he took it and said thanks you both talked and he said "well I have to get back to work see you later" you looked down and he walked away tecchou said he'll come by later you looked at him and smiled than nodded he ruffled your hair and said "see you than" walking away you walked away and back to the house you and Jouno had you did what you did and tecchou came by you talked to him and Jouno came and he asked what was tecchou doing there tecchou said "I am here to keep her busy and not alone 24/7 Jouno" the two boys were yelling back and forth you got up and pushed Jouno away he asked "what is up with you" you yelled back saying "the thing wrong is you work all day and we only talk is you texting me saying your going to be late I have lost sleep because of me waiting for you" you than put your shoes on and walked out slaming the door and Jouno covered his ears from it after hours you came back Jouno was in the room and you were be quiet as possible and it works you laid on the couch and Jouno cane back and kept saying he was sorry than said "i came back because tecchou said that i haven't been away from you and I didn't see it-" you looked up at him and said go next thing you knew he picked you up bridal style he lead you to yours and his room he went out and made you your favorite drink and gave it to you than kissed your head and said he'll take the next week off

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

He came to the living room and looked at you and said "I thought you would leave" you were on the couch laying down with a blanket covering your face after yours and his fight you have been crying you and him fight a lot but not all the time you didn't even know why you both have been fighting you smelled something and got up you saw him sitting next to you and he our your favorite drink and snack on the table in front of the couch he said he was sorry about the fight and said he didn't even know why the fight started and wiped your tears away and kissed your nose and said "please forgive me I didn't mean it" you smiled

[your-fave-jewish-magical-girl]

EPISODE 61 SPOILERS BSD Anti-Delulu theory post: Why [REDACTED CHARACTER] dying from [REDACTED EVENT] would probably be a good thing.

This is reposted from Reddit. So Episode 61 just came out which luckily ties up a lot of the cliffhangers from the manga and serves as an ending point to the vampire infection arc--which is making me party on the inside because holy shit has that been going on for awhile. But now we have more cliffhangers. The last two minutes teasing a new arc, Sigma's fate, whether or not the armed detective agency are still criminals and ambiguous character fates. Oh yeah, and one of the main villains for the past 3 seasons might be dead.

I've seen people saying that he's not dead, and if he is, he shouldn't be dead. But I would like to propose a second opinion.

I feel like it is likely that Fyodor is dead from the helicopter crash. And that seems like a pretty good way to end this arc. It puts an end to the 'I outsmarted your outsmarting' stuff that's been going on for over a year at this point in the prison and it proves to Fyodor from his insulting of Dazai and Chuuya's relationship previously that their bond was NOT superficial. The thing that he ultimately doubted was what killed him and It's such wonderful irony. It also ties back to his biggest flaw, how he didn't trust the people he couldn't use and how just being a super smart 100000 iq guy doesn't matter in the face of sheer arrogance, which Mori commented on all the way back in season one. His overconfidence and lack of regard for other people stabbed him in the back, which serves as a great contrast to Dazai even brought up by Sigma. Dazai does not use the armed detective agency, he is a part of it, and his trust in the agency and in his friends was what kept him alive. But Fyodor can't do that, we don't know much about him, but from what we've seen, he doesn't really value the people in his life, he didn't value Chuuya, not Nikolai, Sigma, not his subordinates in the Rats in the House of the Dead. And that being the thing that kills him is great.

**Please do not take this to mean I don't want to see more of Fyodor or that we SHOULDN'T have more**

I do genuinely think that we need to know his power and his motivations as a character, not to mention. This episode they teased a certain man that Dazai lives up to that we don't know about. So how can you develop on that if he's dead?

Well from a story perspective, I hope he doesn't survive the helicopter crash. That would be such a cheap ending to something that was built up so well, pretty much nulling any impact for the finale, twin darkness, and Nikolai's character. But what I think will happen is that Fyodor is going to live on. Someone smarter than me mentioned this, but the words he says when he dies were the last words Jesus said before he came back three days later. That is obvious foreshadowing if I've ever seen that.

But keep in mind, Jesus died on the cross. There was no fake out.

So while I do believe Fyodor died in that crash, he is coming back in some way. There are theories that he might live on through Sigma which I find to be an interesting concept, helping us understand his backstory. And I think that him serving as an antagonist beyond the grave through memories, mind games, and manipulation would be such a Fyodor thing to do. If he does get revived, I wouldn't want it to be a respawn basically. Living on through the book, his orders, subordinates would honestly be a great way of preserving him and moving the story forward passed the whole "Dazai and Fyodor do mind game death note stuff" thing that he's been basically reduced to, liberating his character and moving forward in the story to this next arc. I don't know exactly how it would be done, but there are ways to kill him in that helicopter that don't involve throwing out his entire character, past and ability. From what we’ve seen, Asagiri seems very capable of writing a workaround to that. And knowing him, he probably has at least something figured out.

As for the body, Fyodor making a fake arm in theory sounds smart, but there is just too much bullshit involved. He wasn't injured when he came in right? how could he predict all the damage done to his arm with the bandages wrapped exactly as they were when they got on? How would he survive the copter in the first place, didn't look like he was escaping when the entire screen consumed his being? How would there be enough TIME to make a fake arm. I don't care how smart you think this guy is, that stuff takes time to make, and there was like what, 30 minutes overall inside that prison? No matter what way you slice it, you need to make at least someone in that scenario Mary Sue levels of big brained to pull that off and that's not really the kind of writing Asagiri does. Not to mention, it's a total copout.

As for the lack of body, yeah we didn't see it, but he also got blown up in a dang explosion, for all we know, the arm was the only thing that was left after he got blown to smithereens. And it didn't seem like Nikolai teleported to save him since he didn't really move, so what would that be? He has Kenji's powers now?? And even if somehow he DID survive all of that, also, even if he did survive, Fyodor doesn’t have the antidote, Dazai does. And we only have one antidote. So even in the best case scenario, Dazai would be thrown under the bus and there’s no way in hell dazai is dying yet, even more than Fyodor. All of those theories are even bigger plot holes and oversights than if he actually died.

So what does all of this mean, well Fyodor is almost probably dead (check his wiki). But that doesn't mean that his character and arc are over. He'll get immortalized somehow in a way that serves the oncoming arc without cheapening the finale for the prison arc, Dazai and Chuuya's relationship, and the absolute horror Nikolai was experiencing at the death of his friend. Yes it was painful, but if it turned out Fyodor was actually alive the entire time, that moment will have gone to waste.

Basically, anything can happen, but if I see Fyodor crawling out of that broken helicopter, I'm throwing hands.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor bsd #bsd season 5 #bsd season 5 episode 11 #bsd theory #bungo stray dogs theory #anti-delulu #I could totally make a follow up to this #keep in mind that Fyodor does not have the same plot immunity as Dazai #anyways I love this season finale #sigma please be ok

[elia-de-silentio]

Recap on The Decay of Angels

Above, our introduction to the villains that have dominated the Bungou Stray Dogs manga for a few years as of now. It tells us two main things: that they are terrorist, and that they are five. Of them, two are known: Dostoevsky, already introduced in the previous arc, and Gogol, who debuts in this chapter.

As of chapter 88, all of the five members are known, and a few of these identities have been puzzling for the public at large. So, I want to try and recap what we know of them, and maybe make a little sense of it (spoiler, I didn't, but I found a few interesting facts).

We already met Fyodor in the Cannibalism arc, and gained an idea of who he is, how he operates, and what he wants. He's the leader of his own organization, but fights his battles mostly indirectly, by manipulating others into fighting for him.

He aims at destroying Yokohama to find the famed Book, the one to rewrite reality, for the purported reason if creating a better world, one without the 'sin' of ability users. Why he does think like that, or exactly what kind of different world he does envision, is unknown to this day.

Later, in chapter 56, we are shown the Decay of Angel's deeds, four in one week, which our resident nerd Kunikida explains are related to four of the five signs of the imminent death of an angel (or 'deva' in the Buddhist conception):

They skinned a legislator's torso, made a shirt with the result, and put it back on him, all in five minutes = the angel's robes are soiled.

They melted off the face of a deputy commander in the coast guard with a corrosive poison = the angel's garland melts away.

They stuck an air compressor in the mouth of the secretary of a general in the ministry of defense, causing his blood vessels to pop out = the angel's radiance fades.

Lastly, an official for the military police was injected a drug that caused him to kill himself = the angel's armpits start to sweat.

Moreover, they're suspected to have ties in the government; turns out, Gogol was cosplaying as a secretary in there.

He takes hostage a bunch of government officials, and threatens to saw them in two ("losing delight in their heavenly thrones")

The next chapters are dedicated to introducing Nikolai Gogol: an eccentric individual with a powerful ability and the most likely perpetrator of all the aforementioned crimes (since Fyodor was in jail at the time and, as we'll see shortly, the other members aren't particularly suited to these kinds of jobs).

However, he admits that he does feel guilt for what he does, and it's the reason he keeps doing it: he wants to free himself from the concept of morality, from his own conscience.

While this is a rather interesting philosophy, it doesn't expand much on why and how he joined the Decay of Angels. Was he a 'normal' person with particular ideas on morality that were brought to the extreme by the other members in order to make him useful, or was he already a murderer, and joined the Decay to have a wider choice of targets?

Boh. We'll only know quando Asagiri si decide a recuperare il suo arco porca pupazza with time. Still, the important part is that he doesn't seem to share Fyodor's objectives, nor does he say anything about the greater plan and his ideas on it. This is the first indicator that the Decay is a rather fragmented group, everyone is in for his own goals.

However, the last interesting thing is that the plan involved his own death: those in the Decay have no problems sacrificing their own members (even if I have a little theory that Fyodor might have planned for his survival, but I'll talk about it in another post).

Next, a wounded Taneda adds an information about the Decay of Angels: of the three members still in the dark, one has the ability to exchange knowledge he wants for information the person he touches wants. Namely, they're looking for a book, one that makes so that what is written on it becomes the truth - something already hinted by Fyodor. They managed to locate one page of it, and used it to frame the Armed Detective Agency to create a chaos and instigate a sort of Ability Civil War to destroy the city.

Their 'knowledge broker' is revealed to be Sigma; a reveal that is quite a surprise for the reader, since the manager of the Sky Casino has been introduced rigging a game to allow a person desperately in need of money to win; a very positive introduction, for a member of a 'murder association'. Later, it's revealed that he didn't even want to stab Taneda, only scare him off.

In fact, he hasn't even joined them because of some ideal: Fyodor found him when he had no past nor family nor anywhere to go, and offered him a place to belong in exchange for his services. When it turns out that his colleagues in the Decay have planned his demise (and two!) and Atsushi shows him kindness, he promptly cooperates with the Agency; or tries to, before one of Fyodor's lackeys shoots him.

It's also revealed that the group has created some explosive coins, released to the population at large to make some other acts of terrorism.

After some other shenanigans, we are introduced to their boss: Ouchi Fukuchi, officially the war hero who wants to save the world from the 'terrorists' known as the Armed Detective Agency by instituting an international police force.

Unofficially, a former torturer sanctioned by the government, traumatized by what he found himself doing. He wants to take down every nation, throwing the world into anarchy, because he believes countries and governments responsible for wars; and he also wants to stick it to his childhood friend who wasn't with him on the battlefield and got a found family he didn't have, and so framed him as the leader of the terrorists.

His actual plan was to terrorize the population and the government enough that they would gladly let him create an international armed force at his commands, which he would actually have used to break down the concept of 'State'.

Lastly, the fifth member: Bram Stoker. Another interesting case: like Sigma, he doesn't have any particular ideal that brought him to the group; on the contrary, he dislikes them. He used to be known as a calamity for his ability to turn others into vampires, and swore to never do such a thing again. He breaks this promise because Fukuchi threatened to kill him otherwise, and already keeps him in a state of prisony; personally, he has no interest in destroying the world, and thinks Fukuchi should do it himself. Considering that he interacts only with him, and doesn't keep track of the time well, I wonder if he even knows the other people in the organization.

Another interesting thing, is that he is the first British author to get introduced, except for Agatha Christie, who is hinted to be the leader of an organization of European Ability Users, but hasn't made an appearence since chapter 12/Dead Apple, and insofar hasn't had any impact on the plot. Maybe Stoker will be the element that brings the 'Order of the Clocktower' in?

Anyways, here they are: a group of people with vastly different goals and mindsets, ready to send each other to death and put dents into the others' plan (Sigma being ready to tell everything to Atsushi, Fyodor likely putting intentional mistakes in the Page he redacted to undermine Fukuchi).

Honestly ... it's amazing such a branco di disagiati group of people that want so wildly different things managed to last so long, let alone do this much damage. I mean ... how and why these people came together? What do they have in common?

To try and find answers, I did a little research.

First of all, the name 'Decay of Angels' comes, surprise surprise, from a book.

'The Decay of the Angel' by Yukio Mishima is the last novel in a tetralogy that follows the story of Shigekuni Honda, law student in the first novel and retired judge in the last, as he spends his whole life looking for the reincarnation of his deceased schoolfriend, finding them in people that seem to inevitably meet an early death, and ultimately destroys himself.

In the last installment, Honda decides that the reincarnation is an orphan, Toru, that behind a nice and normal facade hides antisocial tendencies. The interesting thing is that Honda notices them, but dismisses them as 'guile': what makes him decide that Toru isn't the reincarnation of his friend is the fact that he doesn't die on a certain date. And after all he had decided that he could be his friend after noticing a similar mole pattern; both very superficial things to originate and conclude such a fixation.

So what? I don't know.

Is a reference on how Fukuchi envied his childhood friend Fukuzawa for never dirtying his hands the way he had to do, and for having a found family, or a 'path in life', and decided to do a distorted version of such, with a few criminals and a plan to destroy the current order? Not sure.

Let's move to the artist, then!

Yukio Mishima was something of a conservative, and he strongly opposed the westernization of Japan, arguing that it left its people rootless. By this, I mean that he founded a private militia, the Tatenokai, composed of a bunch of students recruited with the newspaper, who until the 1970 did not much more than physical exercise and worship of the Emperor.

On the 25th of November 1970, however, Mishima plus four (!) of them briefly seized control of the Self Defense Force headquarters and tried to encourage the soldiers in a coup d'etat. They failed; Mishima and Masakatsu Morita, one of said four followers, committed suicide by seppuku, the latter despite his commander's wishes. The other three ended up in prison.

So, we have a strong believer in the traditional values of the State; quite the opposite of the 'anarchist' Fukuchi.

However, Mishima does not appear as a character, even if, since he was a writer, he could very well have. Instead, a bunch of appearently unrelated figures compose the terrorist group.

Fukuchi Genichirou was a translator, journalist, and playwriter. He, too, was a conservative: in his youth, he wrote an article criticizing the government and was subsequently arrested; he was released for the intercession of an influent friend, but this is remembered as the first episode of suppression of free speech in the Meiji Restauration.

He later founded a very short-lived political party that pursued the sovereignity of the Emperor, enforcement of a Constitution established by the Emperor and election among limited people. This party disbanded after one year.

Fyodor Dostoevsky is best known as a novelist, short story writer and journalist. He was also involved in politics: initially, he was interested in socialism, fluctuating among several groups due to an interest in social reforms in favor of destitute people.

The last group he joined (despite having been described by Bakunin as essentially a bunch of posers) got him convicted for reading papers that criticized the Russian government and religion, and nearly sentenced to death; the letter by the Tsar that commuted the sentence in prison and hard labour arrived just as the convicts were right in front of the firing squad, leaving them all free to enjoy this deeply traumatizing experience. He was considered one of the most dangerous prisoners (he read some books). Later in life, he moved towards more conservative beliefs (conservative for Russian standards: he criticized both socialism and capitalism, idealized the monarchy, and asserted that every social problem could be solved with Orthodox Christianity); but he didn't try to take an active role in politics.

Nikolai Gogol was a novelist, short story writer, and playwriter of Ukrainian origins. Despite costantly satirizing the government in his works, he was a strong supporter of the tsarist monarchy and criticized those who wanted a costitutional monarchy.

Fittingly for 'a character with no past', researching Sigma was a real pain. Shoutout to @gravitycantstop for pointing me in what is probably the right direction.

Sigma was a pseudonym of Russian journalist and writer Sergey Nikolaevich Syromyatnikov. Appearently, decent information about him is available only in Russian. Now, one day I'll speak every language in the world, but insofar my knowledge of Russian is limited to 'vodka' and 'syrniki', so I can't say much about him. If anyone who reads this speaks Russian and can provide information, please do so!

[Edit: thanks to @heydeliah , now we know about RL Sigma's political inclinations: he was a conservative who supported an authocratic monarchy, just like the above two]

Lastly, Bram Stoker: he had a keen interest in Irish Affairs, was a strong supporter of the Liberal Party, which favoured social reforms, personal liberty, and reducing the powers of both the Crown and the Church of England. He supported Home Rule brought about by pacifist means, was an ardent monarchist, and believed Ireland should stay in the British Empire, which he saw as a force for good.

So? I'm not sure what to make of all of this. The only thing I can say is that a bunch of real-life right-wingers has been turned into essentially a bunch of far left extremists? Sure, Stoker has been around for too little to express any ideology besides 'fanculo 'sta merda I want to sleep', and the lack of information on Sigma means that I can't make theories on him. But still, it's the closest thing I could find that binded them all together.

I admit I'm still unsure about what this could mean. Surely they weren't the only boomers ante litteram strongly conservative authors Asagiri could find, so ... I guess we have to wait and see? I literally made this post as I went, trying to find a common denominator, and this was all I could manage.

Anyways, I hope this can be somehow interesting.

Thanks to anyone who bothered to read my ramblings!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd meta #bsd theories #bsd spoilers #bsd fyodor #bsd gogol #bsd sigma #bsd fukuchi #bsd stoker #bsd decay of angels #bsd doa #elia's recaps

[dazedbydazai]

May I ask for a scenario for dazai, chuuya and fyodor with a bottom, small fem!s/o who wants to try to top them but is a bit to shy to ask them drirectly and gives little hints? If they would let her she would be actually pretty good as a top..

Hi~ sorry this took sooo long. I thought of hcs at first but then I realized you wanted a scenario hehe so here you go! Hope you’ll get to see this anon <3

Putting them under the cut since it got a bit lengthy ^^

➤ Warning: NSFW, smut, light cursing, unprotected sex, lots of kissing

➳ Dazai Osamu

Dazai always loves to try something new with you. He loves taking you in different positions and tonight was no exception.

Trailing kisses down your body, his hands started rubbing your sides gently and you couldn't help but moan at the feeling. His lips were cold from the temperature of the room but it left a burning sensation on your skin.

You moan his name out loud as he began sucking on your lower lips, tongue sticking out to flick your clit. Your hands find purchase in his hair and you pull him closer, wanting to feel him in the deepest parts of your body. However, it wasn't enough.

"Dazai," A whisper of his name brought his attention away from your sweet pussy. You take his cheeks and pull him back up, kissing him roughly and wrapping your legs around his waist.

He blinks in surprise at your eagerness but lets himself melt into your touch, slowly grinding his erection at your entrance. But before he could put it in, you struggle in his embrace; trying to flip the both of you over.

"What's wrong?" He asks, breaking the kiss.

"I..." You blink away the haze in your eyes and bite your lip.

"Tell me what you want," Dazai whispers in your ear before he kisses your neck, sucking on the sweet spot there. His right hand comes down and he begins rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, earning another moan from you.

"Ah! Dazai–" You arch your back, arms wrapping around your boyfriend to pull him closer. "I... I want to try something."

You say it in between moans and Dazai couldn't help but smirk.

"Of course. You know I wouldn’t resist you," He says and without warning, he flips your position so you're now straddling him.

"Do your thing, belladonna," He simply says as he looks up at you, hands grabbing your hips to steady you.

You bite your lip again and nod, taking his aching cock and slowly lowering yourself on him. The stretch was unbelievably good and you both let out shaky breaths as you fully sit on his cock.

"H-how do I?" You ask timidly, resting your hands on top of his chest.

"Just roll your hips," Dazai instructs, guiding your body to grind on him in a circular motion. "Yes, just like that."

You nod again and take charge, moving your hips faster as Dazai watches you with hooded eyes. At one point, you try to lift your hips and sink down on him again and it elicited a soft groan from your lover. Deciding to do it again, you begin riding him faster, bringing yourself down harder as you feel the pleasure consume you from inside and out.

Dazai's not gonna lie, he loves being in charge in the bedroom but seeing you like this, pleasuring yourself and riding him like there's no tomorrow, he's thinking of letting you lead more often.

It's like this that you both come undone, your bodies pressed together as you bounce up and down on his cock. Dazai helps you by lifting his hips and thrusting upwards in time with your pace.

"Cum for me, belladonna. Show me how much you like this and we will do it again," Dazai's breath was hot against your lips before they crash together, a mess of tongue and teeth as you desperately reach for your high.

You ride him faster and faster and before your energy dies down, you're cumming all over Dazai and him into you.

Once you've calmed down, Dazai kisses your temple and tells you that you did great. And that he'll let you lead the next round once again.

➳ Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya was always the one to lead when you both got hot and heavy. But not tonight, no.

Maybe it was the multiple glasses of wine that you drank, or maybe it was something else, but it gave you enough courage to take things into your hands.

That's how you found yourself straddling your boyfriend on the couch, hands wrapped around his neck, lips taking his own in a sweet and passionate kiss filled with love and want and a tinge of red wine. Your skirt was riding up your body but you didn't mind at all.

Chuuya wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close as you subtly grind your clothed core to his growing bulge.

"Princess," He whispers against your lips. "You know I won't be able to stop myself once you start that."

"I know," You trail kisses down his cheeks to his neck. "You don't have to hold back, Chuuya."

Chuuya groans when you bite into his neck and his hands squeeze your hips as you grind on him harder now. He could feel your wetness seep through your panties and he was honestly pleased that you're already this wet and ready for him.

When he kisses you again, he tries to lead your body to lie down on the couch but you won't move. Instead, you sit yourself flush on top of his erection.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Chuuya asks. A flash of hesitation crosses your eyes but it was replaced by that lust again; and was that a hint of shyness? "Talk to me, baby."

You take one of your hands and trail them down Chuuya's chest, opening the buttons of his shirt one by one. "Can I?"

"Hm?" Chuuya watches your movements carefully and when you grind on him again, he finally realizes what you want.

"Fuck," Chuuya groans as he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you again. "You're perfect."

You moan into the kiss as Chuuya begins unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants down just enough to let his hard cock out of its constraints.

"Ride me," He commands and you eagerly nod, briefly getting up to remove your panties and coming back down onto Chuuya's lap. He takes his cock in one hand and guides it to your entrance. You slowly sink down on him and hold your breath, feeling him stretching you out.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Chuuya says once you're fully seated on him. "Go on and move at your own pace, princess."

You nod and place your hands on his shoulders for leverage. His hands return to your hips and he helps you get into the flow. In this position, he's hitting all the right places inside you and it feels so good that your moans keep spilling out.

"Chuuya!" A particular hard thrust had you screaming and chasing for that jolt of pleasure once more. You pick up the pace and Chuuya had to fight the urge not to flip you over and just fuck you senseless.

"Faster," He groans out loud. "Ride me like you mean it."

His words only spur you on and you found yourself bouncing faster and faster until you couldn't take it anymore. And Chuuya knows you're close too so he lifts your skirt a bit and presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in tight circles and that's just what you needed right now.

A high-pitched moan escaped your lips and you come crashing down, your orgasm ripping through your body like a wave. But you don't stop there. Chuuya pulls your body closer and opts to thrust up into you, prolonging your orgasm and finally reaching his own too.

When you've both come down from your high, Chuuya combs your hair away from your face only to see you smiling.

"You liked that, huh?" He asks, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Mhmm," You agree and peck his lips. "Letting gravity do its work was the right choice."

➳ Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor rarely relinquishes his control. But with you, it was an exception. Especially now that you're wrapped around him, kissing him softly.

He didn't expect to be bothered at work but when he heard it was you knocking on his door, he willingly let you in. And he also didn't expect for you to be this needy at this hour of the day.

Nevertheless, he let you sit on his lap and tried to return to his work. But he could sense the desperation in your body so he decided to indulge you for a while.

"What's on your mind right now, my love?" He runs his hand up your spine and settles it behind your neck.

"You already know the answer, Fyodor," You simply smile and kiss him again, this time a little bit harder, bolder.

Fyodor raises his eyebrow but you don't see it, you're far too concentrated on his taste. It was addicting.

He breaks the kiss again to smirk at you, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

"Looks like you want something from me," He begins kissing down your neck and stops at your collarbone. "Please do tell."

You gasp as you feel him nibble on your skin and you don't know what came over you but you found the courage to say, "I want you."

"Oh?" Fyodor was clearly amused even though he already knew it. But hearing it come from you was very satisfying. "Then why don't you show me how much you want me?"

This was the chance. It was a golden opportunity for you to take control and you gladly obliged. You kissed him again and began grinding directly on his growing erection. You knew you had the same effect on Fyodor like the one he has on you that's why it didn't take long before you both found yourselves naked, clothes discarded in a pile on the floor.

Fyodor didn't bother to move to the bedroom, instead he leaned back on his chair, a hand slowly rubbing his hard cock as he watched you take off your panties and walk over to him once again. With both legs on either side of him, you lock eyes with each other as you take his cock and insert it in your pussy. Fyodor's expression didn't change but you knew from the look in his eyes that he was enjoying this.

Once you've fully settled in, you close your eyes and sigh. It felt good, so good, that you wanted this moment to last forever. But you knew Fyodor wasn't very patient so you begin moving your hips up and down, sometimes going all the way up before slamming back down on his cock.

The longer you kept this up, the harder it was for Fyodor to maintain his composure. Slowly he let out groans of pleasure, his eyebrows knitting in concentration as he feels your slickness drip onto his own, coating his cock and making it so easy to slide in and out.

"You're moving so well, my love. Have you done this before?" He asks even though he already knew the answer, again.

"Ah– no, Fyodor. You know you're my first," You say in between moans. "I just want to be really good for you."

Oh, Fyodor loved that answer very much that he rewarded you by pulling you down hard, his hands holding you still. He leans in and kisses you roughly, tongue darting out to explore your mouth. In this position, you could only move your hips in a circular motion but it works pretty well as Fyodor groans against your mouth and breaks the kiss.

"How about you be better and ride me until you can't take it anymore?"

It wasn't a question really; it was more of a command.

You wordlessly nod and pick up your pace again, riding him like your life depended on it. You're putting on a show and Fyodor's enjoying every bit of it. Your beautiful moans echo throughout the room and the sound of skin slapping against skin was turning you both on that it didn't take too long before you're reaching that high.

"Are you going to cum for me like this?"

"Yes yes yes," You whisper it over and over and when Fyodor decides to rub your clit, you finally snap.

Moaning out loud, your orgasm washes over you and you clench around Fyodor tightly, wanting to push him over the edge as well. Fyodor holds your hips with both hands and lets you bounce on him a few more times before he's finally unloading inside you with a low groan escaping his lips.

You feel so full and spent that you collapse on top of him, resting your head on his shoulder.

When you feel his heartbeat calming down, your own shoots up when you hear him say, "You did so well, my love. Maybe I should let you do this more often."

You look up at him and thank him, kissing him once more before he told you that you both should probably get cleaned up.

#anon #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd smut #bsd scenarios #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai smut #bsd chuuya #nakahara chuuya #chuuya smut #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs

[soukokuwu]

NAKAHARA CHUUYA

TO CATCH A DREAM

》 fluff, for a change

》 word count: 2.3k

》 one of the prompts my sweet anon sent me, hope this isn’t too disappointing! (i’m also going to work on your other suggestions)

》 also, to the other anons— yes I’ll work on the Fyodor and Gogol requests too

“it takes you by surprise”

It had been, what, three years since you’ve left the Port Mafia? Why was it still causing an emptiness within you? Yes, it had been your home since you could remember, you practically grew up in the mafia. But Mori had practically sent Oda to his death. You had thought the world of Mori, admired him and his witty ways, how he managed to command the respect of such a huge organisation. But sending Oda into a suicide mission? Letting slip of the orphans under his care, using their death as a form of ‘motivation’?

That was too much. Way too much.

You weren’t close to Oda, not by a mile. You’ve only seen him interact with Dazai a few times, and other times you’ve only heard about Dazai rambling on about them drinking in Lupin. But you had heard enough about Oda to gain a certain amount of admiration for the man. He was part of the mafia, and yet you knew he could do much better.

His death led to Dazai’s departure from the Port Mafia. And yours.

The day he died, Dazai had visited you in the wee hours of the night, drunk and upset. He had told you everything. What Mori did, why he did it, what happened to Oda and what his last words were. It was the first and only time you’ve ever seen your best friend so distraught. You were in disbelief, but there was no denying– Mori could be that despicable.

You had packed up all your belongings and left with your best friend. It wouldn’t have been such a hard decision if there wasn’t anybody you would miss, but there was. And you couldn’t even warn him, you didn’t want to put him on the spot. If you told him you would leave, either one or two things would happen: he would help you keep it a secret or he would try to stop you. Both of it would end horribly, and you didn’t want to affect his life negatively. The Port Mafia was his home, the one place he felt that he belonged, and you didn’t want to take that away from him.

It had been three long years after you left the mafia and Yokohama. But now that you were back in the city, you felt emptier than you thought you would. As you took a seat on the ground, you peered out into the open sea. You remembered the last time you were here. With him. It was the last time you saw him before you left the mafia.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Do I finally get to call you mine?”

You shook your head at the redhead, exasperated, chuckling silently as you playfully pushed him. “Do you not get tired of asking me that?”

“Oh someone is still adamant on rejecting me, huh?” he droned on dramatically. The ginger poured some wine into your glass and looked up to the sky, pondering out loud, “Why doesn’t this beautiful lady want to be Mrs. Nakahara Chuuya?”

“Oh shut up,” you groaned, cringing at how cheesy he was being.

You got to know him through Dazai, since they had become partners, and he had transitioned into a dear friend of yours. It was always endearing to watch them squabble. Like two proud people who would never admit they actually work well together.

You remembered laughing a lot that night, wishing more nights could be like that. It was filled with innocent wonderment, the light brushing of your arms against his. The two of you were much more than friends and everyone could see that, but your aversion to anything that made you happy always reared its ugly head somehow.

The way you managed to ruin everything that made you happy the moment you obtained them– you didn’t want it to happen with Chuuya. You wanted him with you, forever, even if it meant you two weren’t together.

That night was filled with drinking wine and chilling by the seaside, talking about anything and everything all at once. You remembered laughing more than you did all day, and enjoying yourself more than you thought you could.

It ended when he realised you were getting a little too inebriated. He didn’t want you to be feeling too hungover the next day, he didn’t want it to affect your work. If you wanted to get wasted he would always entertain you on the weekends.

“Okay, we’re all out of wine tonight, let’s head back.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whined. You weren’t drunk at all, just a little light-headed. But you drank enough to be shamelessly honest. The normal you would not admit you enjoy the redhead’s company, but now the words were coming out unfiltered.

“Come,” Chuuya said, holding out his hand, patiently waiting for you to accept it.

You looked at him, dubious. “Come where?”

He sighed, hands reaching down to help you up, to which you resignedly complied. “I’m taking you home.”

A wave of surprise came over him as you replied, “As long as it’s you.”

Minutes later, you were clinging onto Chuuya for dear life. This was not what you had in mind when he said he’d take you home. You were practically standing on a small piece of land flying over the city, made possible thanks to Chuuya and his gravity manipulation. Thank god you didn’t drink that much, if not you were sure you’d be puking all over the city right now.

You were too busy burying your head in the crook of his neck to notice how much Chuuya was enjoying this. He was grinning widely, surprised to find that you were afraid of heights. Your face was all scrunched up in such an adorable expression of fear, and your hair was flowing so elegantly due to the wind. He tried to ignore the feelings bubbling up inside him, well aware you would only try to bury any that you harboured for him. If this was the only kind of intimacy he could afford with you, he would take it. He would enjoy this moment, hugging you and feeling your touch in return. This was better than nothing.

The trip home was quick, and you found yourself a little disappointed after pulling yourself away from Chuuya. He ruffled your hair affectionately after noticing your disheartened reaction. Why would you keep pushing him away when it’s evident that you wanted more? He always questioned himself of that, not that he ever allowed himself to actually ask you. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable.

“Get some rest, okay?”

“Yes, dad,” you mocked, sticking your tongue out.

Chuuya couldn’t help himself. He laughed at how adorable you were being, ruffled your hair, and let a ‘cute’ slip out. Your eyes widened, astonished by the sudden compliment. It was funny, Chuuya had thought he would be more embarrassed, but somehow he liked this. Being able to tell you how he felt– he liked it. His grin turned into a soft smile as he gazed at you, ruffling your hair, before leaning down to place a kiss atop your head.

“Goodnight.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Your heart beat faster as you recalled his tender kiss. It was pure, which made it all the more precious. You knew you were still in love with him, but that was something you had tried to keep buried deep within you. It was hard enough getting you to admit that to yourself while you were in the mafia, it would be even harder now that you were practically a fugitive. You managed to always give yourself an excuse, claiming that if it was supposed to be then it would happen.

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be after all.

The sun was setting over the horizon. The sky was painted in mesmerising orange hues. It felt calming, tranquil. You looked at your watch. It was almost seven. Time to get going. Dazai would start drinking without you at this rate. You got up and stretched, excited about meeting your best friend after three long years apart. You had heard he found a nice job and you couldn’t wait to get to know all about this new Dazai. With a slight skip in your step, you walked off.

“Who are you so excited to see?”

You froze at the friendly voice. The voice you’ve wanted to hear ever since you left. His shadow got closer to yours, and you could smell the familiar musky scent. You were stuck rooted to the spot, uncertain of what to do.

What was the best course of action here? It wasn’t like you could outrun him. You were still a Port Mafia fugitive, and he was still a Port Mafia executive, one very doted on by Mori himself at that. What if Mori found out you were here? What if he sent Chuuya here to test his loyalty? It would result in so much trouble. As much as Chuuya used to be intimate with you, you knew his role as executive would always come first to him. There was no escape if they already found you. Should you just jump in the river and hope you drown?

“Hey, I asked you something,” the redhead muttered impatiently. Once he realised you were too deep in thought to listen, he stepped closer toward you. Why are you shivering?

Panic was still afire in your mind. It was always a bad trait of yours. You weren’t very quick at thinking on your feet. Your mind was whirling through hundreds of different scenarios, but what happened next wasn’t something you would’ve thought of.

Arms embraced you from behind. From the corner of your eye you could make out his ginger hair, and you could feel his cheek against yours. His face was tilted in toward your neck, and you could feel his shallow breathing, your ears turning beet red from the proximity. You could feel his heart beat as he gently squeezed you, seemingly not wanting to let go. You had dreamt about this reunion countless times before, and now it was finally real.

“I- I was going to meet Dazai for a drink,” you choked out, half-surprised and half-terrified.

“Don’t be like that,” his warm, velvety voice pleaded.

The warmth in his tone calmed you down enough to make you stop overthinking the situation. If he was here to kill you, he would do it. If you ran, he would catch you in the end. Any kind of resistance would be futile. Any way this situation played out, you would be at his mercy. You might as well face your old friend genuinely. So you turned around, catching sight of that familiar face of home.

“Be like what?”

“Afraid of me,” he muttered. You could almost melt at his soft puppy-like expression. It almost looked like it pained him to see you. You wanted to assure him that you weren’t— not anymore, but you couldn’t get the words out. You were too happy. Tears were forming in your eyes. You didn’t even realise you had started smiling sweetly up at him.

Chuuya finally saw the smile that had been haunting him for years, the smile that he thought he’d never get to see again, the one he could only imagine being the reason behind. Now here it was, standing in front of him, and it was more magical than he thought it would be. He felt the glee building up inside him. The lady he was in love with since he first got to know her, the one that gripped his heart the instant he caught a glimpse of her smile and heard her laugh— she was back, and very real. This was not in his head. He enveloped you in another hug, a tighter one.

“Ditch him.”

“What?”

“Screw that shitty Dazai.” The ginger tucked your hair behind your ears before cupping your face with his gloved hands. “This time, come with me.”

There was a fire in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Right in this moment, he was determined.

“But what about the mafia?”

“Mori let you go,” Chuuya stated, much to your surprise. “He asked me what we should do the moment you and that bastard left. I told him you were just an assistant medic. You knew next to nothing about the Port Mafia’s top secrets. But I also told him that if you threatened our existence that I would be the one who would stop you. It pacified him enough.”

So that’s why nothing bad ever happened to you by their hands. Right till the end, even after you left, Chuuya still protected you. It didn’t take a genius to see how betrayed Chuuya felt after he heard you had left with his partner with not so much as even a warning. No note, no explanation. He figured out why you left, Dazai was your best friend after all and he knew Oda was someone you looked up to from afar. It didn’t ease his anger, though, because your wordless departure had left him feeling fucked up even months after. It was as though you thought he wasn’t worth any explanation. He had thought that he could never forgive you for leaving, but now that you were together again he forgot he ever got mad at you.

Slowly, Chuuya inched toward you, his face drawing closer. When there was barely any space between the two of you, he stopped to ask, “So what do you say?”

“Okay, let me-” Just as you were reaching for your phone to postpone your plans with Dazai, hands pulled you toward them, crushing their lips with yours. It was soft and loving, patient and sweet— everything you imagined and more. Your brain was screaming at you to push him away, reminding you of the endless possibilities of how this could all go wrong, why you should protect yourself from it. But this time, your heart had reign over you. You were back in Yokohama and you were here to stay. Maybe this warranted you a chance to make yourself happy, to stop pushing his affections away.

Chuuya stopped the kiss, slowly pulling himself away, eyes fondly looking into yours. His hand was still holding the back of your neck and his heart was still filled with overwhelming exhilaration at your return. “I’d love to catch up but first things first,” he said in between breaths as he continued kissing you, “are you going to stay with me this time?”

“Always.”

“That’s my girl.”

“there is no other”

#so frustrated my first draft was eaten up #but here have my fluff #bsd x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #bsd oneshot #bsd scenarios #bungo stray dogs #bsd chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuya x reader #rachwrote #bsd imagine #bsd imagines

[tayaminaka]

'S/O dies while giving birth to their daughter' with Kunikida Doppo, Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara and Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Kunikida Doppo

His dream of a perfect family was gone...along with you. He tried to pull himself together but as he saw your lifeless, cold body, tears started to streamed down his face. He fell on his knees, lowered his head so that his forehead was laying in the sheets. took your hand and held it as long as he cried into the sheets

Now he's on his own. He would try to stay with his daughter as long as possible but he knows that work won’t wait. He would mostly hire a nanny but if Naomi really insist he would let her babysit his daughter

In his free time he would mostly go for a walk with your daughter. He would go to the most beautiful places and try to tell your daughter something about the places, even if she doesn’t understand anything yet

It was only 6 a.m. when your daughter woke up. Laying in her cradle she reached up her hands everytime he passed by, a sign that she wants to be picked up. After he had done everything he wanted to do, he went to her cradle and finally picked her up, receiving a happy sound from her. He knew that she didn’t want to sleep so he decided to make a little morning walk with her.

„This is the Yamashita Park, here i met your mother the first time. This park was built...”

He stopped as he saw your daughter trying to reach down to some flowers. He got on his knees with your daughter in his arms, so that she could reach the flowers. With her fingers she lightly touched the flower, looking really excited. He smiled, after all she was just a little kid. These were your favorite flowers, he remembered. You would always stopped by them to simply look at them. Oh how your daughter reminds him of you right now. He looked at his watch, it was time to going home. With a slowly becoming heavy heart he stood up...

„...Let’s go Home. You didn’t even eat breakfast, it’s bad for your growing body.” he said trying to brush off the heavy feeling in his chest. Oh how he wished that you would be with him now.

If she gets older and ask him about her mother he would first say that she’s at a better place now but when she’s old enough he would tell her the full truth. They both would casually sit in the living room and he would tell her some stories about you two.

If she’s old enough he would also go to the cemetery with her. When she was little he went alone to your grave but now even if his heart becomes heavy by the thought of you, your daughter still deserves to visit you. Even if you aren’t alive anymore.

Dazai Osamu

As he heard about your dead, a strong feeling of emptiness grow in his chest. Time stood still for him. He didn’t hear the doctor, he didn’t hear the noises around him, he didn’t hear anything anymore. He was thrown back to reality as he felt Kunikida‘s hand on his shoulder,reminding him that his daughter needs him.

He would sit right beside you,place your already cold hand on his cheek, a small tear would fall down from his eye and he would ask only one question ‘What should I do?’ over and over again only to be greeted by a pitiful silence

After your dead he would stop with his suicide attempts. Of course he wanted to do suicide but the thought of your daughter stopped him everytime. He didn’t want that your daughter becomes an orphan, is all alone or even worse, ends up in the port mafia

At night he would let her sleep in his bed. He would look at her peaceful sleeping face, pet her head a little and pull her closer to his body. Oh how much she reminds him of you.

„Look...the Sunset...”

It was evening, the sun was slowly settling but it was still pleasantly warm. He was standing at the balcony with your daughter in his arms. A few minutes ago your daughter was peacefully playing in the living room with some plushies. Dazai was sitting right next to her on the floor while holding another plushy in his hand to play with her but as he looked out of the window, he saw the beautiful sunset. The idea of showing your daughter something new spread through his mind, so he quickly grabbed your daughter and went to the balcony. Looking at the peaceful sunset made his heart ache. Of course he was happy that his daughter was with him, of course he liked the sunset...but it felt like...something is missing...

„I wish...you would be here with me...”

A sad smile was on his face as he looked into the sky,...you were gone and nothing would bring you back. Your daughter yawned a little, she became sleepy. With that he was thrown back into reality. As he looked at her cute sleepy face he chuckled...

„Well...lets get you ready to sleep, shall we?”

With that he looked the last time at the sky and went back in with your daughter in his arms.

Even if she gets older she would still be his little sunshine in his darkness. Maybe because of her, he would finally find his meaning in life.

Chuuya Nakahara

Out of anger he punched the wall beside him. It was hard for him to restrain himself from destroying everything around him.He was angry. He was angry, that the doctors didn’t save you, that his dream of a happy family shattered, that life is so fucking unfair

But after a while his anger setteled and sorrow came. He cried over your corpse as he held you in his arms. He stroke your hair, called your name desperately and hugged your tightly in hope that you would wake up and hug him back...But it never happened

Now he was alone with your daughter. The first weeks were the worst for him. Your daughter would cry the whole night, sometimes even the whole day and he would try to calm her down, give her food or change her diapers but it seemed that nothing of that worked.After two weeks he snapped...

„What do you Want?!” he shouted

He sat down on his bed and covered his eyes with his hands. He tried everything already to calm her down but nothing worked. Everytime she calmed down he put her back in her cradle but as soon as he laid down to sleep at least a little she woke up and started to cry. He looked in the mirror in front of him. Dark circles were already under his eyes, due the lack of sleep. Your daughter cried in the background,with a loud sigh he stood up to pick her up. He started to go around in the room with her in his arms and she slowly calmed down. But instead of putting her back in her cradle, he put her next to him on the bed and covered her with a blanket. A few strands of his hair were in her hand as she slept peacefully beside him.

„Good Night, Little sweetheart.” He said and a little smile appeared on his tiered face as he gave her a little kiss on her forehead

After that night your daughter slept with him constantly. At some points he would sleep on the edge of the bed while your daughter would sleep in the middle in the form of a star. Even if she gets older, when she has a nightmare she would run to Chuuya’s bedroom to sleep there

At some points he would get very sad. This sadness usually comes when something big or beautiful happens, like the first steps or words of your daughter or simply a lovely evening with your daughter at the park. Everytime a small tear would fell down his cheek but he will simply brush it off, so nobody see it.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

On the outside he remained cold, ther was no reaction or emotion but on the inside something in him ached.

He went to you, placed his hand on your cheek and brushed it a little with his thumb. He bowed down to you and placed all last kiss on your lips before he left, promising a better world for your daughter

After your dead he would work much harder on his plan to create a better world for his daughter. Because of that he would let Sigma look after his daughter (He's the most trustful and adequate from them all)

But sometimes if he has some time he would play a little with your daughter. Maybe with some (rat) plushies or other toys but as she gets older the games would start to get mature and mature. At some evenings he would play chess with her while chatting about some philosophic questions about god or the meaning of life and death.

It was already past midnight when he got home. It was quite and peaceful. He entered the room where his daughter was sleeping. He went near to the cradle your daughter were laying in. She held a little grey rat plushy in her arm while the white on was laying right over her head. He corrected her blanket and started slowly pet her head. She was so small, so weak, so defencless, oh he will make sure that nobody ever lay a hand on her. A little smile appeared on his face as his daughter frowned in her sleep and turned around...

„Sleep well,little mouse.” he chuckles „Soon the world will be a better place.”

With that word he gave her a kiss on her forehead and left to get himself ready to sleep. He’s gonna make the world much better for himself, for your daughter, for everyone.

About the existence of your daughter would only knew five people (Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, Ivan Goncharov, Alexander Pushkin and himself) because of safety reasons and the possibility that your daughter becomes a part of his plans. After all, having a trump card in his hand is nothing bad...for him,...right ?

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo x reader #dazai headcanons #kunikida headcanons #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya headcanons #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor headcanons #bungou stray dogs #anime

[jaynaneeya]

And Then There Were More

To be clear, the entirety of Edgar Allan Poe’s Murder Mystery Dinner Party is perfect and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but here’s what I think might have happened if Chapter 5 had gone slightly differently.

***

“Miss Agatha Christie, we are indeed – Eddie?” Edgar Allan Poe gasped.

Agatha Christie was standing just outside the door, with a man whose arm she was twisting behind his back. The man was unmistakably Eddie Dantes, and he was very much alive. “You know him?” Agatha asked Edgar, releasing her grip on Eddie. “He just tried to stab me,” she added, holding up the small knife she had wrestled from his hand.

“I thought she was the murderer!” Eddie protested, massaging his wrist, as Edgar, Lenore, Emily, and HG all gaped at him in astonishment.

“The murderer?” Christie repeated.

“People have been dying here all night, right?” Eddie appealed to the others.

“Yeah, and you were one of them!” snapped Lenore. “How are you alive? And what are you doing out here?”

Before Eddie could reply, they all heard a scream. They hurried in the direction of the sound, and found Oscar Wilde pounding on the bathroom door, calling, “Mary Ann!”

“What’s going on? Where’s Annabel?” Edgar demanded.

“She went to find you,” Oscar told him. “Wait, Eddie? Are you…a ghost?”

“No, I’m alive, I was just…pretending to be dead, so I could catch the murderer.”

“But… you were the first victim,” HG pointed out. “When you faked your death, there was no murderer to catch yet.”

“George Eliot’s in trouble; let’s talk about this later,” Emily interjected, pushing her way to the front of the group and forcing in the door.

To their dismay, George Eliot was slumped on the floor, with his/her head in a picture frame. While everyone else was frozen in shock, Annabel Lee rushed in. “There you are! What’s-” she stopped suddenly. “Eddie?!” she cried. “You’re alive?!” she threw her arms around him.

“Yes, my dear, I’m so sorry, I-”

“She’s still breathing!” Edgar exclaimed, unsure whether he was more excited that George Eliot was still alive or that it gave him an excuse to interrupt Eddie and Annabel.

To Edgar’s delight, Annabel immediately broke away from Eddie and knelt beside George, who gasped and opened his/her eyes. “I have something important to say.”

“Yes? Who did this to you?” Annabel asked.

“You may not believe it, but I –” taking off the hat, “George Eliot –” and the mustache, “am a woman.”

“Yes, dear, we knew that already, but who-?” but George Eliot had died.

Annabel turned back to Eddie. “How are you alive?” she asked.

“Wait!” Edgar interrupted dramatically. “Where’s Ernest?”

“Let me get this straight,” Agatha Christie broke in. “There’s a murderer in this house, and you’re not keeping track of where everyone is at all times?”

“He was with us in the vault right before you arrived,” HG told her defensively.

“Maybe he’s in the study with Charlotte,” Emily suggested.

“Why aren’t you all staying together?” wondered the baffled Miss Christie. “No wonder you’re all dying. How many deaths have there been so far?”

“Five,” said Edgar.

“Four,” Oscar corrected, nodding to Eddie.

“Okay, now are you going to tell us how you’re still alive?” Lenore asked.

“First let’s make sure Ernest and Charlotte are okay. Then I’ll explain everything,” Eddie promised.

They all returned to the study. Charlotte was tied to the chair, just as they’d left her. Ernest was standing near the doorway, holding a bunch of knives, looking confused. “Where were you?” he asked them.

“We could ask you the same question,” Oscar countered. “What are you doing with all those knives?”

“I brought them for everyone, for protection.”

Agatha groaned and sank into a chair, her face in her hands. “You all are the worst!”

“Who’s she?” Hemingway asked.

“Agatha Christie,” Eddie responded.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Charlotte asked him. “And aren’t you all satisfied that I can’t be the murderer? How am I still tied up?”

As Ernest used one of his knives to cut through the wires that bound Charlotte, Eddie finally began his tale. “As soon as I took a bite of my soup, I could tell that something was wrong with it.”

“How dare you?!” Lenore cried.

“Someone had clearly poisoned it. I could tell they were trying to kill me, so I decided my best hope of escaping death was to pretend to be dead already. I’ve been trying to catch the murderer, and I thought I’d been successful when I saw Miss Christie at the door.” He glared at her. “I’m still not convinced I was wrong. Where have you been all this time?”

“I told Edgar I was going to be late, as I had a previous engagement. I got here as soon as I could, which wasn’t nearly soon enough, apparently, but shockingly, I don’t expect everywhere I go to give me inspiration for my next mystery novel.”

Emily spoke up. “I had some of the soup.”

“Is that how you died?” Charlotte asked.

“I’m still alive!”

“Which means the soup wasn’t poisoned, and Eddie’s lying!” Edgar hastily concluded.

“Did you eat soup out of my bowl?” Eddie asked.

“No, out of the pot in the kitchen.”

“Then perhaps someone just poisoned my bowl.”

“It must have been Lenore,” Oscar asserted. “She’s the one who served the soup with her weird ghost powers.”

“Okay, will someone please coherently explain exactly what has happened here tonight?” Agatha requested. “I need to know what I missed in order to solve this mystery.”

“I am clearly the best at explaining things concisely,” Ernest bragged, taking a swig from his flask.

“You’re also drunk,” Edgar pointed out, “and as this is my house, I will tell Miss Christie what’s going on.”

Edgar explained as best he could the events surrounding the fake death of Eddie and the real deaths of Louisa May Alcott, Mary Shelley, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and George Eliot. The expression on Agatha Christie’s face grew more and more incredulous as he described their reactions, and she burst out with a loud “WHAT?!” when he mentioned that they had split up to search the house.

“And aside from the vial of poison with the blood on it, you’ve found no clues whatsoever?” Agatha asked him when he’d concluded.

“None,” he confirmed. He hadn’t mentioned the handkerchief because it seemed to implicate Annabel, though the tender way she’d been caressing Eddie’s hand throughout his tale had almost tempted him to do so. Poe glared at the others present, daring them to mention it, but no one was saying anything.

Agatha considered carefully for a moment. “It almost makes sense… Edgar, what painting did you have in your bathroom that George Eliot could have been murdered with?”

Edgar raised an eyebrow. “What kind of person has paintings in their bathroom?”

“I have five in mine,” Oscar remarked.

“What happened to your sleeve?” Agatha asked him.

“Ugh, Miss Brontë spilled wine on it. I was going to change, but I didn’t get the chance,” he added, putting his jacket back on to hide the stain.

“Because you insisted that George go into the bathroom,” Annabel said accusatorially.

“She was covered in birdie bits! I was being a gentleman.”

“Shall we all return to the washroom to see what that painting was?” HG suggested.

“No matter, I know what it was now, thank you,” Agatha responded, to the others’ astonishment.

After a long enough pause to make clear that she was not intending on saying anything further, Ernest blurted out, “So, what was it?”

“What? Oh, a painting of Oscar Wilde, of course. But what I don’t understand is how… there must be… but who…?” she trailed off pensively.

“Eddie, darling, who do you think was trying to kill you?” Annabel asked quietly, trying not to disturb Agatha.

“I don’t know, my dear. I can’t think of any enemies or rivals I might have.” He stared pointedly at Poe.

Annabel followed his gaze. Edgar had clearly overheard them and was fuming. “No, Edgar couldn’t do this,” she insisted. “He’s a good man.”

Eddie snorted. “A good man?” he repeated loudly. “He can’t even hold a dinner party that more than half his guests survive!”

“Hey, way less than half have died!” Edgar objected.

“Yeah, so far,” Eddie scoffed. “Obviously the safest thing was to pretend to be dead.”

“I’m missing something…” Agatha muttered.

“M-may I make a suggestion?” HG stammered.

“By all means,” Edgar sighed.

“If Miss Christie needs more assistance, per- perhaps Lenore could, uh, contact the psychic who conjured her ghost to, uh, summon some of the people who died here tonight? I’m sure at least one of them saw whomever killed them.”

“Surely Miss Christie can solve this murder without the assistance of ghosts,” Eddie asserted.

Agatha considered him carefully. “Miss Christie would be very interested to hear what the ghosts might say,” she informed him.

“Great, I’ll contact Krishanti!” Lenore sounded more cheerful than anyone had all evening.

When Krishanti entered the study, her eyes were immediately drawn to Eddie, the man who was constantly pestering her to bring back his brother. But he pointedly avoided her gaze, so Krishanti followed his lead and hid her recognition. When Guy’s ghost appeared, however, Eddie couldn’t help letting out an audible gasp. When the others stared at him, he quickly whispered, “Who is that? He didn’t die in this house tonight, right?” at which point Guy started his speech, which Charlotte then interrupted by sneezing and blowing out Krishanti’s candle.

As Krishanti hurried out in search of sage, Agatha asked, “Who was that?”

“Guy de Vere, my fiancé,” Lenore responded. “Krishanti could never bring him back, until now apparently.”

“Ah, I see.” Agatha turned to Annabel. “And why did he point to you and say you weren’t a bell?”

Annabel shrugged. “I thought he was saying I wasn’t able, though to do what I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Maybe he was saying she wasn’t A. Bell, like that handkerchief we found in Miss Alcott’s mouth,” Emily suggested.

Agatha turned to Emily enthusiastically. “You found a handkerchief that said A. Bell on it?!” she exclaimed.

Emily blushed and looked at the floor. “Well, not exactly. I mean, I didn’t find it, and it didn’t exactly say A. Bell. It just had the letter A and a picture of a bell. Miss Brontë seemed to think it was Annabel’s, but maybe that ghost was saying it wasn’t.”

Agatha rounded on Edgar. “And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think that the beautiful, sweet, innocent, beautiful Annabel Lee could have had anything to do with-”

“Oh, how tiresome of you!” exclaimed Agatha. “That was the piece I was missing. We could have avoided this whole séance if you’d just told me everything like I asked. Well, come on, everyone, we have to stop her!” She started toward the door, but no one followed.

“Er, stop whom?” Oscar asked. “And from what?”

“Stop Anne Brontë from murdering Krishanti, of course!”

“Anne Brontë?” Lenore repeated. “You mean Charlotte?”

“Well, I would, if she wasn’t standing right there. Don’t you see? It must be the other one. Look, I’ll explain in a moment. First, Edgar and Lenore lead the way to the kitchen, which is where I assume Krishanti was headed. I’ll bring up the rear to make sure no one is left behind. Just hurry!”

When they arrived at the kitchen, Krishanti was dialing a number on the telephone, but she wasn’t alone. A woman most of them had never seen before was slowly approaching the psychic, holding a large knife. “Hey!” Lenore shouted, causing Kristanti to jump and drop the phone. When she saw the knife she started to scream, but the woman immediately lowered it and feigned a look of innocence.

“Who are you?” Edgar demanded of the stranger.

“I’m Anne Brontë. So sorry I’m late for dinner, I was just looking for the food.”

“Good luck finding any,” snorted Ernest.

“Anne Brontë wasn’t on our list, was she?” Annabel asked Eddie.

“Wait a minute,” said Edgar, “Eddie told you whom I should invite?!”

Agatha glared at him. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Mr. Poe?”

Edgar furrowed his brow. “I’m getting there. But what does any of this have to do with A. Bell?”

Agatha pointed to Anne. “Her pen name is Acton Bell. I knew that Eddie and Charlotte were in on this, but as neither of them could have killed George Eliot, there had to be a third person. I couldn’t figure out if it was one of you or someone else, at least until you told me about the handkerchief.”

“What made you think I had anything to do with this?” Charlotte cried.

“You had the greatest opportunity to kill Dostoevsky, and you obviously stained Wilde’s shirt to send him to his death in the washroom.”

Oscar gasped. “You did that on purpose?!”

“Why would I work with someone who was about to foreclose on my house?” Charlotte countered.

“I imagine he told you he’d let you keep your house if you helped him. I also assume he offered to help you cover up the murder of Jane Austen.”

“How can you possibly know about that?” Anne wondered.

Agatha smiled. “Who do you think you’re dealing with?”

“You must be making a mistake, Miss Christie,” said Annabel. “Eddie’s a great guy.”

“Then why would he fake his own death before people started dying? And why would he cheat on you with both Charlotte and Oscar?”

“I thought he was dating me!” Anne protested.

“Ha, in your dreams,” scoffed Oscar.

Annabel had let go of Eddie’s hand and began to shrink away from him, her eyes widening in horror. “Eddie? It’s not true, is it? It can’t be.”

But Eddie was ignoring her, his eyes fixed on Agatha Christie. To everyone’s astonishment and confusion, he suddenly began to clap slowly. The Brontës attempted to join in, but he silenced them and continued his solo slow clap. When this had gone on far longer than anyone else was comfortable with, he stopped clapping and said, “Congratulations, Miss Christie. You figured it out.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Of course I did. You knew I would, or you wouldn’t have tried to kill me before I arrived.”

“But, why would you do this, Eddie?” cried Annabel.

He opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Agatha said, “Because he’s Guy de Vere’s brother and a descendant of Edward de Vere, who claimed that Shakespeare stole his work, so he’s trying to get revenge on authors.”

Looking very disappointed at having his villain monologue stolen, Eddie asked, “How could you possibly know that?”

“It was perfectly evident that you and Krishanti recognized each other, and that you recognized the ghost of Guy de Vere. That combined with the fact that all the authors were killed in manners that reflected their work made this the only logical solution.”

“Enough chatter, let’s call the police!” Ernest shouted, a bit louder than necessary.

As Ernest lunged toward the phone, Charlotte pulled a gun out of nowhere and pointed it at him. He leapt back automatically as the others gasped. “No one goes near that phone,” Charlotte ordered.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Agatha. “The police should be here any minute anyway.”

“Why should the police come?” Anne sneered. “Nobody’s called them. We’ve been watching the phone all night. Krishanti’s call was interrupted by all of you, and no one else has used it.”

“Nobody needed to call them,” Agatha responded calmly. “A few days ago, I staged my own disappearance. After making sure it was being investigated, I led a very clear trail to this house. They’ll be here soon.”

“You said you didn’t expect everywhere you go to provide inspiration for your next novel,” Charlotte reminded her.

“Not everywhere I go, certainly, but a murder mystery dinner party at Edgar Allan Poe’s house? It would have been foolish not to take some precautions.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Charlotte jumped and dropped the gun; Agatha quickly retrieved it. “I suppose that must be the police. Or were you expecting anyone else, Edgar?”

“No, I don’t think so. Unless Emily Dickinson decided to finally show up.”

“She’s right there,” Agatha told him, nodding toward Emily, who beamed. Agatha pointed the gun at each of the murderers. “Right, you three, let’s go answer the door.”

Everyone followed Agatha and the murderers out of the kitchen except Annabel. When Edgar noticed she wasn’t with them in the hall, he turned back to join her. She was crying softly. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I courted Eddie because I thought my family would approve. He seemed like such a respectable, great guy. I never imagined he was capable of something like this.”

Edgar didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t understand, Edgar. I’m trying to say that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Annabel. I know you wouldn’t have brought him if you knew he was going to kill people.”

“I mean, I’m sorry for wasting time we could have spent together.”

This was the last thing Edgar had expected. He was sure he had misheard. “What do you mean?”

Annabel took his hand and smiled through her tears. “I mean, I never loved Eddie. It was always you.”

***

Agatha Christie opened the front door triumphantly.

“Are you Mr. Allan Poe?” asked Constable Jim.

She stared at him in astonishment for a moment. “Um… no. I’m Agatha Christie.”

“Hey, we found her!” Constable Jimmy exclaimed.

“You’re going to want backup,” Agatha told them. “These three all need to be arrested for murder.” She handed the gun to Emily. “Miss Dickinson, hold them until backup arrives. I’m going to go home and divorce my unfaithful husband.”

#poe party #poeparty #edgar allan poe's murder mystery dinner party #fanfic #see if you can spot the clue references #this isn't nearly as good as what really happened #but at least significantly more people survive

[tabernacleheart]

“...Three days passed and Holy Week had come. And on Tuesday morning my brother began going to church. “I am doing this simply for your sake, mother, to please and comfort you,” he said. My mother wept with joy and grief. “His end must be near,” she thought, “if there's such a change in him.” But he was not able to go to church long, he took to his bed, so he had to confess and take the sacrament at home.

It was a late Easter, and the days were bright, fine, and full of fragrance. I remember he used to cough all night and sleep badly,but in the morning he dressed and tried to sit up in an arm-chair. That's how I remember him sitting, sweet and gentle, smiling,his face bright and joyous, in spite of his illness. A marvelous change passed over him, his spirit seemed transformed. The old nurse would come in and say, “Let me light the lamp before the holy image, my dear.” And once he would not have allowed it and would have blown it out.

“Light it, light it, dear, I was a wretch to have prevented you doing it. You are praying when you light the lamp, and I am praying when I rejoice seeing you. So we are praying to the same God.”

Those words seemed strange to us, and mother would go to her room and weep, but when she went in to him she wiped her eyes and looked cheerful. “Mother, don't weep, darling,” he would say, “I've long to live yet, long to rejoice with you, and life is glad and joyful.”

“Ah, dear boy, how can you talk of joy when you lie feverish at night, coughing as though you would tear yourself to pieces.”

“Don't cry, mother,” he would answer, “life is paradise, and we are all in paradise, but we won't see it, if we would, we should have heaven on earth the next day.”

Every one wondered at his words, he spoke so strangely and positively; we were all touched and wept. Friends came to see us. “Dear ones,”he would say to them, “what have I done that you should love me so, how can you love any one like me, and how was it I did not know, I did not appreciate it before?”

When the servants came in to him he would say continually, “Dear, kind people, why are you doing so much for me, do I deserve to be waited on? If it were God's will for me to live, I would wait on you, for all men should wait on one another.”

Mother shook her head as she listened. “My darling, it's your illness makes you talk like that.”

“Mother, darling,” he would say, “there must be servants and masters, but if so I will be the servant of my servants, the same as they are to me. And another thing, mother, every one of us has sinned against all men, and I more than any.”

Mother positively smiled at that, smiled through her tears. “Why, how could you have sinned against all men, more than all? Robbers and murderers have done that, but what sin have you committed yet, that you hold yourself more guilty than all?”

“Mother, little heart of mine,” he said (he had begun using such strange caressing words at that time),“little heart of mine,my joy, believe me, every one is really responsible to all men for all men and for everything. I don't know how to explain it to you, but I feel it is so, painfully even. And how is it we went on then living, getting angry and not knowing?”

So he would get up every day, more and more sweet and joyous and full of love. When the doctor, an old German called Eisenschmidt, came:

“Well, doctor, have I another day in this world?” he would ask, joking.

“You'll live many days yet,” the doctor would answer,“and months and years too.”

“Months and years!”he would exclaim. “Why reckon the days? One day is enough for a man to know all happiness. My dear ones, why do we quarrel, try to outshine each other and keep grudges against each other? Let's go straight into the garden, walk and play there, love, appreciate, and kiss each other, and glorify life.”

“Your son cannot last long,” the doctor told my mother, as she accompanied him to the door. “The disease is affecting his brain.”

The windows of his room looked out into the garden, and our garden was a shady one, with old trees in it which were coming into bud. The first birds of spring were flitting in the branches, chirruping and singing at the windows. And looking at them and admiring them, he began suddenly begging their forgiveness too: “Birds of heaven, happy birds, forgive me, for I have sinned against you too.” None of us could understand that at the time, but he shed tears of joy. “Yes,” he said, “there was such a glory of God all about me: birds, trees, meadows, sky; only I lived in shame and dishonored it all and did not notice the beauty and glory.”

“You take too many sins on yourself,” mother used to say, weeping.

“Mother, darling, it's for joy, not for grief I am crying. Though I can't explain it to you, I like to humble myself before them, for I don't know how to love them enough. If I have sinned against every one, yet all forgive me, too, and that's heaven. Am I not in heaven now?”

And there was a great deal more I don't remember. I remember I went once into his room when there was no one else there. It was a bright evening, the sun was setting, and the whole room was lighted up. He beckoned me, and I went up to him. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my face tenderly, lovingly; he said nothing for a minute, only looked at me like that.

“Well,” he said, “run and play now, enjoy life for me too.”

I went out then and ran to play. And many times in my life afterwards I remembered even with tears how he told me to enjoy life for him too. There were many other marvelous and beautiful sayings of his, though we did not understand them at the time.

He died the third week after Easter. He was fully conscious though he could not talk; up to his last hour he did not change. He looked happy, his eyes beamed and sought us, he smiled at us, beckoned us. There was a great deal of talk even in the town about his death. I was impressed by all this at the time, but not too much so, though I cried a good deal at his funeral. I was young then, a child, but a lasting impression, a hidden feeling of it all, remained in my heart, ready to rise up and respond when the time came. So indeed it happened.”

- from The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky

#straight to the heart #this moves me to weeping #the brothers karamazov #heaven #love #metanoia #Fyodor Dostoevsky