dazai making up a whole language with fyodor that no one else can understand is amazing but imagine him using codes that, very objectively speaking, you could crack, it's just that no normal person would ever make the insane leaps in logic that it requires. except for someone familiar with dazai's weird thinking patterns, that is.
i just love the idea of dazai's unhinged antics being dialed up to an eleven when he was in the port mafia, and oda being the only one who simply wouldn't bat an eye at it but chuuya was the only one who would actually get it.
like imagine ango at the end of the jailbreak, his boss saying he should allow himself to sigh and lean back and maybe indulge himself, pat him on the shoulder, tell him what he pulled off reading heart rates wasn't easy and he should be proud for being able to keep up with such a plan
but ango i-drank-with-teenage-dazai-and-also-had-the-records-for-every-soukoku-mission sakaguchi can only remember the time dazai was like using greek sign language through his breathing patterns to communicate from a submarine from beneath the pacific ocean or something, and chuuya could not fathom how no one else could understand him.
and that was the day mori signed off on skk being exclusive partners because every subordinate in the room was crying tears of blood by the time chuuya finished explaining which blood pressure level was warning them about a bomb, which blinking sequence was him conveying the vault password and which series of inhales was just him calling mori a bitch.
(ango also pointedly did not want to think about how smug dazai had looked after the mission when mori confirmed skk would only be each others' partners for efficiency and to maintain everyone else's sanity
or about how when he called chuuya to tell him about dazai's prison break scheme he could only get like 3 out of 276 steps into the plan before chuuya rolled his eyes, said "got it" then hung up and pulled the whole thing off without a hitch.)
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As someone who is genderfae (microlabel under genderfluid), I have a lot of different experiences with gender.
I just wish someone told me sooner that it won't go like "today I'm a girl" "today I'm an enby" but more like ,,, "today I am a swamp witch" "today I am a feminine victorian vampire boy" "today I am a forest goblin collecting people's stares about my gender expression like shiny rocks on the ground" "today I'm an androgynous pirate lady"
Like,,, sure, are those real genders? I don't fucking now. If a cisgender person asked me what I identify as that day, would I answer like that? No, definitely not.
But to my genderqueer, trans and genderfluid friends; do you get me? I can't be alone with this, right?
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all kinnporsche ships have the same dynamic
one manipulative feral mobster kitten down to fuck but can't survive having one singular positive emotion in a span of several years looks great in tight pants
x
one endearing puppy not one thought in their brain but so many big feelings also is a great hugger and will definitely sit down to cry with you if you kiss them you will have to marry thems the rules
PROVE ME WRONG
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Sometimes when Harry looks at Tom, he's reminded of a lesson one of his muggle teachers gave on reptiles. Chameleons that can change their skin colour to blend into their surroundings or anoles that shed their tails to distract a predator and escape – adapting in order to survive, no matter what it takes.
Harry is himself, to a fault. He spent so long beaten down and trying to disappear so he wouldn’t draw his relatives’ ire that he now refuses to hide or apologise for who he is and what he wants. It probably helps that his wants are pretty basic – good food, good friends, a warm, comfortable place to live, someone to love him – and that he inherited the money and name to easily achieve them.
Tom, on the other hand, is so used to being smoke and mirrors and disguising what he wants and what he is in order to pretend to be what others want or need.
He’d been unapologetically (and tyrannically) himself in his childhood, his magic giving him the power to exert his will over others. But Tom is brilliant and a quick learner, and his first interaction with Dumbledore, which he’d described late one night to Harry when the shadows hid both their faces, had proven a subtler touch might be needed.
Now, Tom reflects other peoples’ desires back at them in order to draw them in, and deflects the conversation away from himself so he never has to clearly define his own position. He doesn’t change himself, but everyone seems to believe Tom is on their side – that they’re on the same page. And because of his power and charm and good looks, everyone wants Tom on their side.
Harry has seen this happen many, many times, and he’s still in awe of how Tom affably manipulates those around him into doing what he wants. How Tom determines what someone wants, says just enough to convince them he does too without committing to anything, and twists that connection into a shape that best suits him.
In fact, the only reason Harry believes Tom actually likes him is because Tom never pretends to be what he thinks Harry wants him to be. Tom is petty and says cruel things and lets Harry see him when he’s less than perfectly put together. And Harry treasures each of Tom’s sharp edges, because he’s the only one who gets to see him as he is. He hoards each truth and preference that Tom chooses to share with him like a squirrel preparing for a long, hard winter.
The trouble comes when people talk to Harry about Tom. By virtue of association, Harry’s had to learn to deflect and prevaricate and lie, though he’s still not very good at it. He does a lot of nodding and smiling and making thoughtful “hmm” sounds as people ask him what Tom thinks of this or that. It’s easier than keeping Tom’s machinations straight in his head.
There are moments when Harry isn’t sure Tom even knows who he is at his core. He is so meticulous about his public persona that Harry doubts anyone else knows which foods Tom actually likes (given the chance, Tom would eat ice cream every day), or what he actually thinks about quidditch (he finds it unbearably dull), or what he thinks of muggles (he’ll never be fond of them due to his treatment as a child, but he doesn’t particularly care beyond that) or muggleborns (new blood is necessary for the magical world to continue, but the mages with the deepest pockets are the most bigoted and ‘traditional’) or purebloods (gullible).
And after the tenth meal of eating foods he doesn’t like, or the fifth quidditch match or ministry event or pureblood soirée in a week, or the nth political tapdance before the Wizengamot, pretending to represent everyone’s interests at once without alienating anyone – and quietly getting his own agenda voted through – Harry has to wonder how Tom stays sane. How it all seems worth it. It certainly doesn’t to Harry.
But that’s Tom. Ambitious to a fault, and willing to sacrifice almost anything in order to achieve his goals.
And whatever other people might think, Harry’s not naive. He knows there’s a chance Tom is lying to him, too. He knows it’s possible – even likely – that Tom figured out that the best way to get Harry on his side would be to give him the best illusion of the truth. Show him some darkness and Harry will believe he’s getting honesty. He’s made his peace with this and decided he’d rather give Tom the benefit of the doubt and be a fool than abandon the other man when he’d chosen to be vulnerable with Harry.
So, when Harry brings home Indian takeaway and offers Tom a bite of his rogan josh, only for Tom to casually say, “I don’t really like lamb,” Harry is fascinated and utterly thrilled.
Especially since he’d seen Tom eat lamb chops at a dinner party two weeks ago with nary a moment of hesitation or complaint.
Harry makes sure to leave plenty of the chicken tikka masala for Tom and mentally notes this new preference down. He’s collected a new fact about Tom.
He spends the rest of the meal with a silly little grin on his face.
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