#I am researching on Line brushes

[birdcrown]

Miichan who is too cute

[kelaeri]

The Many Languages of Dick Grayson

Apparently, according to Nightwing #54, he can speak 12, so I went on a little quest to see just how many I could identify.

Starting off with The Essential Batman Encyclopedia, the entry for Dick Grayson lists him as being trained in French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, Mandarin, and Cantonese with having some proficiency in an unknown Romani dialect. Given there are multiple examples of him speaking these languages throughout the comics, I am inclined to trust this claim. To start, we've got several examples of French (Gotham Knights #14, Detective Comics Annual #12, Nightwing #73, Grayson #10-- also featuring Spanish)

In Grayson #1 he speaks Russian only briefly, but in Detective Comics #36 he speaks it throughout.

As far as the Chinese languages go, while I believe Dick can speak Mandarin and/or Cantonese fairly well (Batman/Superman World's Finest #3), his Hanzi recognition and literacy could use some work.

Similarly, when the Titans head off to Japan in Titans Annual #1, we have Nightwing speaking Japanese in battle; however, when it comes to the prospective job of being a manga translator in Nightwing #125, he claims he doesn't know Japanese, which leads me to believe he is only proficient in speaking Japanese/Chinese and struggles with the writing systems.

So what about the languages not covered in the encyclopedia? To start, we have another romance language: Italian (Nightwing #72).

Followed by some alleged German (Nightwing #51, JLA #44)

And conversations in Farsi (Robin #175)

While I've seen some Tumblr and Reddit posts claim he knows Kikuyu, The Power Company: Manhunter #1 only says he "brushed up" on his Kikuyu before going to Kenya, so it is unknown how much of the language he actually speaks, but to me it doesn't seem likely to be a lot.

He also, to some unknown degree, speaks Tamaranean-- at least enough to hack into an alien computer (Action Comics #842).

As far as unspoken languages go, Dick is fluent in ASL, which is proven numerous times when he communicates with Jericho (New Teen Titans 1984).

And lastly, the two languages that remain rather uncertain are Romani and Cant-- largely due to the nature of the languages themselves and their representation in comics. "Romani," for instance, has several different dialects, and when Devin Grayson introduced it for Dick (Gotham Knights #20-21, Nightwing #91), she never specified which, and based on the lines she wrote, her research into the language was questionable at best. Writers since have recognized Dick's Romani heritage, but have not otherwise suggested he retained much of the language to be considered fluent.

Cant is an even wider term than Romani and can be seen as more of jargon for a particular language than a language itself, sometimes even being called a "pseudo-language." The colloquial term for American circus cant is Carny, or "Carny speak" as Boston Brand puts it in Batman: The Brave and the Bold #14 when he and Nightwing encounter a kid who speaks it.

So... this leaves us with 11 languages Dick has notable proficiency in: English, French, Spanish, Italian, Russian, German, Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, Farsi, and ASL. And ~3 languages he has unknown proficiency in: Tamaranean, Kikuyu, Romani, and Carny/Cant (if you want to count it).

Maybe memory-loss Dick was including either Tamaranean or Kikuyu in that count from Nightwing #54, or maybe he knows some other language we haven't seen yet. Given how close the family is to the Al Ghuls, I personally think it would be cool if one of them was Arabic.

But anyway, hope you enjoyed this post! A lot I've seen covering this topic are very surface-level and label some of his more iffy languages as "fluent," so I hope this cleared things up. I've read tons of Nightwing, and I swear there are more examples, but sifting through the 1,000+ comics I've read of him is a lot haha. If y'all know of some others, let me know!

[the-ancient-dragons]

Welcome back to Overcomplicating the Pyrrhian Tribes! This week: the beloved RainWings!!

You know what's up. Joy Ang and Tui are so cool and I am just me.

Details and explanation below!

Otherwise, next week are the chilly IceWings! See you then!!!

More overcomplicated dragons.

I knew the RainWings would be really important, and I think they turned out the best of all the ones I've done. I think they're my favourite because they are basically the perfect mix of extra realism spice without altering Joy's design too much. The SkyWing design is awesome and I love it to bits, but it is one of the two that are the farthest from canon.

As for the RainWing.... I had. So. Much. FUN. I heavily used chameleons and snakes - they're basically the two main species on my research board - but there is a dash of cuttlefish and frilled lizard in there. Where, you ask? Well if you look closely, all over the RainWing are little tiny flecks of darker colour. I found a beautiful reference of a close-up on a cuttlefish eye. Its skin is dotted in thousands of little marks and I thought that would be perfect for the RainWing, who can camouflage just as well as them. I don't know if it's been discussed in canon but I bet they could animate their scales more than just colour shifting - cuttlefish are known for using their rapidly shifting patterns to hypnotize prey. RainWings could do it too, sort of like Ka from Disney's 2D animated Jungle Book.

Speaking of Ka - snakes. I love snakes. The head structure of the RainWing here is very smooth and rounded with muscles based on snakes like the python. I was even going to originally draw them in a venom striking pose and got as far as completing the lineart, but ultimately decided it wouldn't fit the calm portraits of the other tribes.

Will you see it in the future? Hell yeah! Pure, unhinged, magical death spit. Looking at it now I might try to alter it to be a full piece of Glory attacking Scarlet or Crocodile.

In the striking pose you can see the frills much better, but I still took my time on this serene pose (this is where the frilled lizard influence comes in). If you notice that I've drawn every scale (every single scale) then, yes, I am insane. If you didn't know that yet, you know it now. You have to draw guide lines and follow them meticulously while you wonder why you don't make a scale brush, and then cry because you know the randomness and imperfections that come from drawing a thousand circles is how it looks natural. The eye area is actually my favourite part, since drawing dragon eyelids was the original inspiration for doing this. Did I mention that? I wanted to draw eyelids.

EYELIDS.

I digress. Besides the eyelids, I like the frills on the action pose, but this pose is where I like the body scales more. When zooming in on my chameleon colour refs, I noticed the very rhythmical distribution of their scales and figured I would give it a try. They actually do have extra large circular scales along their bodies, which is where I guess the canon RainWing design gets it from. Very clever, Joy!

Anyway, on this version, those small circular scales appear on the face. Not only that, but I added a bit of influence from the snouts of my ref chameleons by extending the nose bridges to wrap around the nose horn. They blend in so seamlessly and that's the reason why I love this design - it's subtle, barely there, mostly Joy but a little extra.

Wow, I talk too much. If you're here, thank you! It's not mandatory to read, but very appreciated. I heard once that visitors at an art gallery look at each piece an average of 2-3 seconds. Or was it 3-6? Idk, but it was shockingly short, and ever since then I've tried to encourage myself to pay more respect to other artists and glean their work for little details I skip after that quick glance. I could talk so much more about these designs but that would be like an hour long video, each, lol. If you have questions about anything, ask away!

[markscherz]

Can I ask how you feel about your Tumblr fame?

I get the impression you just made this account for normal casual funsies reasons, but it kinda blew up by happenstance. If that's right, I'm curious if now you feel like it's kind of a more serious thing, where you have an opportunity to sorta act as a science communicator with a reach you otherwise might not?

Or maybe something else? You gonna see if you can somehow leverage your Tumblr fame to get research funding? Deputize us to harass polluters and developers destroying habitats? Crowdsource name ideas for new species?

It's a bit bizarre, in that it has very little real-world-ness to it. I showed my mother the ongoing tumblr celebrity poll, and she was like 'how many people could possibly be interested in frogs?', to which I replied 'well as of today about 46,000 and counting'.

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with fame. I spent most of my teen and young adult life fawning after it, as is I suppose very often the case.

More after the cut…

I always really wanted to be famous, but I was never really interested in changing who I was or what I represented in that pursuit. That is to say, I wanted to be known for what I was already doing, or for things that were already interesting for me, rather than things that might have much higher chances of success but require more effort or be less in line with the things that I am interested in.

I had my first brush with virality in 2012, when a poem I wrote went a little viral (largely thanks to StumbleUpon). I remember the rush of seeing how much attention it was getting, and staying up late to keep refreshing the page as the visitor numbers went up and up and up.

But not long after that, I had some closer encounters with fame and people becoming famous. That was extremely eye-opening. I witnessed first hand how strongly that can affect someone's life, for good and for bad. That experience also made me realise, quite jarringly, that famous people are still just people; that celebrity is something extrinsic to them; that they also wipe their own butts (if they are able); and that in many cases, it is a substantial inconvenience if not downright pain in the ass for them. I think this is why we see so many of the big celebrities having mental health crises or trying to live as much of their lives out of the public eye as possible.

That experience pretty much stifled my desire to achieve fame, and really changed my relationship with it. I should add that I could say much more on this topic, but nothing so coherent or insightful as John and Hank Green, who have given me so much clarity on this topic over the years through their thoughtful commentary on youtube and their podcasts.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that fame itself doesn't really appeal to me anymore, I do still have a problem wherein I quickly became addicted to the microdosing of euphoria associated with every reblog and like and follow. So I put huge efforts into social media in order to try to gain traction in the space that I felt I could really compete in—Very Niche SciComm™—and build up a following.

Tumblr was the first platform where I felt that really succeed; I managed to fight my way to a few thousand followers with a thick queue of regular posts about herpetology and other science. At that time, there was a great community building up in the rudimentary private messaging system—I am still friends with several other tumblr bloggers from that era (none of whom I have ever met in person). From that early time (2013), I think my most successful post was probably this one about germination of 32,000 year old seeds—a post that, as of today, has 836 notes, but at the time felt huge and exhilarating.

As I went through gradschool, I got more and more active on twitter, and less and less active on tumblr (by the time I wound down, I had about 8,000 followers on tumblr). This was partly because of the pornbot takeover on tumblr, which meant I basically could not go on the platform in public or at work, but also because the audience and interactions are just fundamentally different. Twitter had a different kind of vibe and energy than tumblr, and there were real SciComm experts there, who were doing it just completely differently. More importantly, I became more focussed on doing outreach aimed at colleagues, rather than non-experts.

Then, in 2017, I hit headlines for the first time. The description of Geckolepis megalepis made it big on social and traditional media, and I had my first experience with real media attention. I had a flurry of late-night phone-calls with journalists in the US. This was a different animal altogether than the few viral posts I had had until that point. It was extremely stressful, but exhilarating. Then in 2018, our chameleon fluorescence story made similar headlines, and in 2019 the Mini frogs, and in 2021 with gecko fluorescence and the smallest chameleon.

Seeing my name on the BBC News website and in the New York Times and National Geographic—those things have been the most surreal moments of near-fame I have experienced so far. The number of followers on social media is quite difficult to conceptualise, but seeing your own name in a media outlet that you consume regularly, or have grown up with, is more palpable.

In any case, I continued to run with twitter as my main platform for years, because I found the interaction with colleagues and other academics highly stimulating. In 2021, I even posted a twitter thread about a different species of frog from Madagascar every day for the full year. All this work was ultimately greeted with mediocre success; I just crested over 10,000 followers a few months before the Musth takeover. But then the platform became basically unusable. And in the fallout, I came back to tumblr, where, just by chance, I happened to find a post about the Mini frogs and reply to it and it went properly viral and now here we are. In the space of a year, I went from having 8000 followers to having >46,000.

How do I feel about that? It's bonkers. I think it is great that so many people are interested in hearing the Good News about frogs and other creatures. But I also feel like I am not really on the same playing field as most of the others in that poll mentioned above, in that I do not have any of the celebrity that several others have. And I know for a fact that there are fanblogs with far, far larger followings than I have. But perhaps that is the great thing about tumblr; that the playing field is somehow levelled…

What's the point of this ramble? Well, first I guess it is to outline that I have given fame a lot of thought over the years, and I have a long-standing and complicated relationship with it, and take it quite seriously. Second, to illustrate that I have been working on as a science communicator or person in outreach for many years—it has kind of been my social media brand since I started gradschool in 2013. And third, to kind of outline how we got here, because I often feel like you have to know where an arrow has come from in order to figure out which direction it will continue to fly.

You asked if I would somehow try to leverage my tumblr fame to get research funding—I already do that. In fact, my social media activity had a signfiicant role in landing me my current job, and will continue to help me achieve tenure. Outreach is an important part of my job, and funders like it too.

I would love to have the community-building power and tenacity of the brothers Green; Nerdfighteria has achieved some incredible things over the years, and the power of that community is now being seen at an unprecedented scale in their battle for equitable access for tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment. But I do not have that in me; this platform is the wrong one for community activation, and my community is still too small for that. Moreover, it is not organised or structured, in the way that I think effective deputisation would require.

As for the crowdsourcing of name ideas, that is currently off the table. I like to try to name things on my own or with my colleauges; it is a very good part of the process. And I have yet to hear a suggestion for a Mini species epithet that I had not already come up with myself, so I am not convinced that this would really augment the experience.

So for now, I hope that the main way I use the platform, and the power that comes with a few thousand followers, will be to spread the Good News about frogs and other wonderful animals, and the other kinds of science happening around us (and occasional other off-topic content). I hope that you are encouraged to explore the world around you, and to do your own reading to find out more about the subjects that interest you. And also I will continue to try to make meme-worthy content, because it does nice, if addictive, things in my brain when I get the clicks.

Thanks for asking, anon, and sorry for the Wall of Text.

[makethatelevenrings]

Day 9: Cock Rings w/ Clark Kent

gonna be honest, researching cock ring porn made me question even more than usual if I am a lesbian but I do it for u all so here u go

Kinktober Masterlist

“I don’t want to know how you got this made,” Clark said once he saw it. You shrugged and then, reconsidering, nodded.

“Yeah, you won’t be able to look Bruce in the eye for a while.”

“I just…” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did you even approach him with the idea? No wait, I said I didn’t want to know.”

“Hey Bruce,” you mocked. “Can I borrow some Kryptonian to make a sex toy for my really hot, really submissive alien husband?”

“Please stop talking.” You giggled at his distress and shrugged.

“Who knows? Maybe this will come in handy sooner than you think.”

You and your big mouth.

It was common for enemies to use kryptonite against Clark. Hell, it was their main go-to. But no one had ever used pink kryptonite until today. Bruce struggled to get Clark into the Watchtower medical bay, a place that rarely saw Clark in there unless he was visiting a teammate, and promptly fled before you could ask him anything other than what had knocked Superman out of the battle.

“Okay, baby,” you whispered as you pushed his hands away from your hips. Clark’s heavy, ragged breathing assured you that he was alive but the raspy undertone made your heart race in a way that was entirely different from his. He whined at your denial and you cursed under your breath. If you let him fuck you right now, he’d destroy you. Clark was good at maintaining his strength in his everyday life, including the bed, but with pink kryptonite involved, he had no inhibitions right now.

“Okay. Okay.” Your mind went back to the gag gift that was currently sitting in a lead box in your bag. Fuck. Maybe you were clairvoyant. How did you come up with this shit?

“I’m going to grab something, okay? And when I come back you better be out of that suit and on your knees like the good boy I know you can be. Right?”

Clark whined, his erection straining against his skin tight suit. You brushed your hand over it and grinned as he moaned. He reached for the collar of his suit and you left him to it. Your bag was close by, luckily, and you fished through it until you found the little box.

Turning around, you found Clark kneeling on the ground completely naked with his heavy, long cock hanging between his legs. Big, blue eyes blinked up at you and he had to be painfully hard based on the tears lining his lashes.

“This should help, baby. It’s gonna make you feel better and then I will make you feel so good.”

He whined again, a pathetic sound that made your traitorous cunt throb. Now was not the time to get horny. Not when he needed you to focus.

The kryptonite infused cock ring had been a joke. Clark and you had poked fun at the idea of using sex toys on him, but nothing could faze or restrain the Man of Steel. Until you had gotten drunk with Dinah one night and came up with a brilliant idea that Bruce reluctantly agreed to help make, solely so you could stop saying he owes you for saving his life that one time.

It came in handy now. Despite Clark being hard as hell, you were able to fit the cock ring snugly around the base of his cock. His balls hung heavy over the edge of the metal, but he shuddered in relief at the feeling.

“Does that feel better?” you cooed, stroking your hand through his soft hair. He pushed his head closer to your hand and sighed at your gentle touch. The pink kryptonite effects would wear off in about two to three hours, but the green kryptonite ensured that he wouldn’t hurt you as you helped him out.

You settled yourself onto the ground in front of him, your knees pressed against his, and reached out to grasp his veiny, thick cock in your hand. He was so big that it made your hands look tiny and you always marveled at the fact that you somehow fit him in your mouth, cunt, and ass.

His hips jerked at your touch and then he let his head fall until his forehead pressed against your shoulder. You pressed a delicate kiss to his temple and started a slow, even stroke along his dick as his hips rolled along with the drag of your touch.

“So beautiful, Clark. Once you’re not affected by the kryptonite, I’ll make sure to put this cock ring on you and tease you until you’re begging me. I could probably even spank you and leave a mark for once. Wouldn’t that be nice, right? Seeing you covered in pretty little red marks?”

Clark moaned, wonton and broken and perfect. With one hand cradling his head and the other jerking him off, you kept talking him through it.

“You’re so strong that this ring won’t stop you, but I love knowing I have more power than you right now. I love knowing you trust me to treat you well. You know that I will always take care of you, right?”

He nodded and you kissed his cheek. “That’s my good boy. Let’s see how many times we can get you to come until it wears off.”

[rangerbarbz]

Professor Pines

Author’s Note: hey y’all! This is the start of a professor Ford AU that I’m working on. Thank you so much for being patient, and I am so excited to hear what you think about this! Sorry if some of this is inaccurate. I have not gotten my masters yet 

“Prologue” 

You sat outside Dr. Pines’ office bouncing your leg to expend the anxious energy flooding your mind. You were rearranging your manila folder of papers for the third time already. You couldn’t decide what would be the best order for him to read them in. Not like it really mattered anyways. It was just a nervous fidget to keep your mind off of the fact this was the last shot for you to get a sponsor for your Master’s research. He was finishing up a meeting with another student; you could hear pieces of his deep voice through the oak door. You hadn’t gotten to meet Dr. Pines yet. Your conversations hadn’t breached your Email inbox, but you were eager to finally have a discussion face-to-face. 

The door creaked open and a young man walked into the hallway, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. “Have a good day! I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” Dr. Pines called out to him. You exhaled through your mouth and placed the folder in a binder that held laminated pictures you had taken. You stood up from the cushioned bench you were sitting on to enter his office. Any confidence you might have regained was lost when you ran face first into what could be your research mentor. Your face and arms collided with his broad chest and caused the papers kept snug in your folder to spill out onto the linoleum floor. 

“Oh good heavens, I am so sorry,” Dr. Pines apologized, bending down to pick up the scattered papers at your feet. This could not get any worse. 

“Oh, no it’s fine. I- I am sorry. I should’ve announced myself,” you replied, a furious blush spreading across your face. You had also joined him on the ground to pick up the remaining papers. 

He chuckled. “You’re quite alright. Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you as you both stood up. He had a small smile on his face as he handed you some lined notebook paper filled with your rushed scribble. His fingertips brushed against yours in the process. You could feel they were calloused; a sharp contrast to your soft ones. 

“Why don’t we get started,” he said, walking towards his desk. “I’m excited to hear what you have to say.” He sat down at his swivel chair and scooted forward. “I spoke with some of my colleagues from the biology department after receiving your email, and I think you have some very interesting ideas.”

You beamed at him as you began to shuffle through your belongings. “Yes, yes! I know you are a lover of cryptozoology like myself, and I wanted to speak with you about studying some creatures that I came face to face with while visiting the Appalachian Mountains earlier this year.” You handed him your binder which he immediately began to flip through. He was careful and nodded along as you continued to speak about your experiences in east Tennessee. It was nice that he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. 

You had not had that luck with other professors you had spoken with about your findings. They either didn’t care or believed it was a hoax. It was until you had checked out a book at the library about a town in Oregon written by none other than Dr. Stanford Pines that you realized he was the key to fulfilling your plans. You had never had a class with him when you were an undergraduate, so you didn’t know much about him besides the fact he was very intelligent and had six fingers. 

He’s not so bad looking either. He was wearing a light blue button-up with a brown tweed coat over it. He had thick, gray hair with a lighter silver streak and wire rimmed glasses balanced on a strong nose. He ran his hand over his stubble and raised his eyebrows towards your photos.

“This is…” Dr. Pines paused. His eyes met yours as he closed your binder. “Incredible.” Your eyes widened and you failed to suppress the ecstatic grin forming across your face. 

“T-thank you, sir,” you replied. 

He then stood up from behind his desk to sit in the chair beside you. “Y/N, this is truly remarkable. I mean,” he began to flip through your notes from the folder, “the amount of thought and organization that went into this is unlike what I've seen in other students.” He gazed at you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry my foolish colleagues didn’t see your potential, but I’m glad that I could be the one that did.”

You felt like you could cry. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” you responded shakily. “Does this mean you will be my faculty sponsor?” 

He gave you a toothy smile and got on his feet to extend a hand towards you. “I am going to do everything in my power to make sure you get the answers you deserve. This summer, I am proposing we travel out to the Appalachia and take a look ourselves.” You hopped up and took his hand into yours, giving him a firm but enthusiastic handshake. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Pines. I am so grateful for this opportunity.” You started to pick up your things. “Really, I am just so excited, sir.” 

He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively at you. “No more formalities, Y/N. You can just call me Ford. We’ll be spending quite a lot of time together this summer, so I’d rather you just use my real name. It’ll be easier for both of us.” 

Your face became slightly warm and you gave him a small smile. “Okay. Sounds good, Ford,” you said, trying out the name for yourself. 

“Y-yes very well.” His voice had faltered. Was he blushing? “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re busy; I’ll be emailing you.” 

“I’ll be expecting you. Have a good day, Ford. It was nice to meet you, and thank you again for this,” you said sincerely,  placing your hand on the rickety door frame.  He grinned. “You too, Y/N. I look forward to working with you.” You gave him a little wave before walking out of his office. This was going to be the start of something wonderful.

Author's Note: There will be more but this is just setting up the story!!

[onlyswan]

summary: in which moving in together is a herculean task and jungkook teaches you how to fold his underwear.

> est. relationship, fluff, angst lowkey / wc: 3.2k

> warnings: mention of h!ckeys and or/l s/x (f. receiving), allusion to c*ckwarming and s/x

> in which masterlist!

note: who else will drunkenly research about men’s underwear and scroll through calvin klein’s website at 2am to write this for shit and giggles and self-indulgence if not art <3 as always i love hearing your thoughts thru reblogs/comments/asks !! 🥺

—

“pssst.”

“oh shit-”

jungkook looks up to find you standing by the doorframe of the walk-in closet, and the view instantly weaves a stupidly whipped grin on his handsome face. your hair is messy from sleep; your eyes are still half-lidded; and your lips are wrapped around the straw of the red water tumbler you’re clutching in your hands.

“baby! you scared me! what are you doing out of bed?”

“my bed escaped from me.” you mumble, padding across the wooden floor until you reach him. he watches in bewilderment as you fall to your knees and pull his arms out of your way. muscular body pliant underneath your dainty touches, he allows you to move him as you like.

“ahhh-” he produces a noise of enlightenment as you find a comfortable position between his legs, lying down across his lap. he’s forced to support the weight of your torso with his arm beneath your upper back, hand curled around your shoulder. “am i the bed?”

“mhmm, boo! i caught you. you’re stuck with me forever.” you go limp in his arms and dramatically press the back of your hand on your forehead like a damsel in distress, which elicits a chuckle from your boyfriend.

he bends down to pepper kisses along your jaw and exposed neck, plush lips brushing against the traces of love bites that blossomed on your skin this afternoon, courtesy of his friskiness. having always been extra sensitive there, the ticklish sensation makes you squirm. “that’s exactly what i signed up for.”

“oh?” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. “sure. let’s see if you can still say the same thing… three months from now.”

your fingers comb through his silky locks, taking a fistful and lightly yanking to pull him off you.

“as you were.”

a grunt tumbles out of his mouth when you change positions carelessly. in the end, you settle with straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, where you nuzzle your face and almost purr like a kitten due to the warmth that you’ve missed in his absence.

the process of transforming an apartment to a home together has been… exhausting, to say the least. you’ve had most of the furniture installed before you started bringing in your personal belongings, but how can a space feel so empty and so crowded at the same time? too many boxes, too many bags, too many things left to buy. the line between what’s yours and what’s his is blurring in your eyes, and this is only the beginning.

you thought dealing with jungkook’s self-admitted laziness would frustrate you at some point, well… which it did. however, it turns out that it is precisely what you need in this type of situation. yesterday morning, he successfully seduced you into letting him eat you out on the kitchen island. you reached the height of your pleasure twice in a row, nearly delirious as he was lost in untamed lust and moaned about how you taste, distracting you from planning out what goes in which kitchen cabinet based on dimensions and convenience. last night, he had to drag you back to bed at 5am because you ended up organizing your bookshelf for two hours instead of only getting a refill of water like you claimed.

“what are you even looking for?!” jungkook exclaims with a hand over his naked waist, clad only in his boxers, as he watches you rummage through four boxes in search for something.

“the easel!” you whimper, your calves breaking your fall as you slump back on the floor in despair.

“easel?” he squats down infront of a box beside you, scratching his cheek as his puffy and sleepy eyes scan the other boxes. “i don’t think an easel would’ve fit in here, baby.”

“it’s a mini one. the one i use to display my favorite book.” you pout to point at it standing in the second level of the shelf. he recognizes it as the limited edition book he bought you last year, and the flashbacks of him standing in line for hours to get it signed by the author are inescapable.

if hearing you say that it’s your favorite makes jungkook so ecstatic that he wants to break down into tears, he doesn’t show it. instead, he nonchalantly throws you over his shoulder, making a beeline to the bedroom. he yelps when you angrily pound at his back with balled fists.

“ugh, i hate you! put me down!”

he clicks his tongue. “bad!” he lightheartedly chides you, smacking your ass. “i’m cuffing you to myself! do you have any idea what time it is? you have class in three hours!”

“but, babe, i don’t want to attend!” you cry out, slumping as you grudgingly yield. “why do you have to be so strong?! stop lifting weights for fuck’s sake!”

at the time, you meant it when you said that you want to take the moving duties slowly since you have all the time in the world but… you can’t stand the clutter and disorganization for the life of you. at the same time, it pumps your veins with thrill, having an empty space and being responsible to breathe life into it with jungkook. out of all the life-altering decisions you had to make with your still developing brain, this is the biggest gamble yet.

you don’t know if you’re blinded by love, putting your trust in jungkook when he said that he wanted to build a life with you; or if it’s arrogance, having the trust in your ability to stand on your own feet again incase a match is thrown in a puddle of fuel on the floor. the latter is more painful to think about, quite frankly. just because you can, doesn’t mean that you want to. you have to. you have to. with bruised knees from praying for a little more time, you have to. the earth doesn’t stop orbiting the sun when your house burns down.

either way, it’s too late to succumb to your inner monologue. the stuffed toys you own, including ones you’ve dearly loved since childhood, are scattered across the living room. the journal you’ve been sadly neglecting for the past two weeks is just freely lying on your personal study space. you’re here, safe in his arms, and if there’s one thing you’ll always believe in, it’s this. and you intend to make the most out of each day the universe allows you the right to be here.

“you can fall asleep like this? while i keep moving?” he whispers, wide palm soothingly running up and down the expanse of your back.

only if it’s you, you say in the back of your mind. “you can see for yourself.”

“psh. always gotta keep me on my toes, don’t you?” he smooches your cheek, and then once more, lingering and refusing to part away. you feel his lips curling up against your skin.

jungkook reaches for the tumbler you left behind on the floor, capturing the straw between his lips and plentily sipping until he deems his thirst quenched. he sets it aside afterwards, returning his attention to the laundry basket he purposely laid on the floor so he can easily reach inside. he’s been happily working hard on the laundry after you both agreed to wash the clothes you haven’t worn in quite some time to keep your closet clean and fresh.

a little hiccup though.

quickly and unsurprisingly, you ran out of hangers between his long-sleeves and yours alone. therefore, he’s solely focusing on the to-be-folded for tonight, which mostly consists of shorts, casual pants, underwear, and socks.

he inserts his arm in the laundry basket to push out the articles of clothing closer to the edge, grabbing the nearest thing and proceeding to neatly fold it over his outstretched legs. his white sweatpants lands on top of its designated pile, and then the same goes for your tennis skirt, as well as his ripped jeans, and everything else after that.

jungkook being jungkook, singing comes naturally to him after breathing and more than blinking. he hums, chest vibrating against yours as he does so, occasionally singing the lyrics in between because he means them. a tattooed arm protectively wraps around you to keep you glued to his body each time he leans forward. his careful movements, along with his mellifluous voice, fool your senses into believing that you’re being carried out by the ocean waves to the shore of dreamland.

your boyfriend freezes when one of your arm slides down his shoulder, an irrefutable evidence that you’ve fallen asleep again. you finally tired yourself out, he breathes out a sigh of relief. he cups the back of your head as support, eyes shaping into crescent moons as he giggles as quietly as he can after seeing your face.

“so fucking cute.” he muses, rewarding your cheek with another kiss before securely tucking you back into his embrace.

he carries on with his task to allow you to dive further into unconsciousness. he spends the next fifteen minutes folding the boxers that were still stuck inside one of his suitcases, patiently operating with only an arm. his tattooed one is still preoccupied with maintaining a protective embrace around you. shortly after, he decides that it’s time for you to go back to bed.

“there we go.” he says quietly to himself as he succeeds to stand on his feet, carrying you with his hands hooked around your bare thighs. you unconsciously tighten your hold around his neck and release a deep sigh of contentment in your sleep.

he kicks the door open, walking with light, deliberate steps across the wooden floor. he climbs on the bed, knees sinking in the mattress as he gently lays you down. and there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring in his chest as he covers you with the blanket, accompanied by the epiphany that he is doing this at 2am not because time has arrived to daunt him and he needs to leave your bed to go home. not anymore. whatever this is, it feels so fucking good. oh my god, he looks forward to spending the rest of his life feeling you breathe next to him, getting lost in how peaceful you look asleep when he randomly wakes up in the middle of the night.

he tenderly squeezes your arms as he leans down to plant a goodnight kiss on your velvet lips, sweet and loving. slowly, and with the smallest movements possible, he gets out of the bed to return to the closet.

“love, you’re not sleeping yet?” your tiny voice barely reaches his ears but it pinches his heart, even more painfully when he sees that your hand only managed to seize three of his longest fingers to stop him from walking away.

he sits down beside you, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i will in a bit, baby. i only have the rest of my underwear left to put away.”

you blink at him hazily, silent as you digest his words in your clouded mind. “you’re folding them, too?”

“of course.”

and with that confirmation, you eagerly inch closer to him. “teach me.”

“huh?” his forehead creases, eyebrows knitting in a state of confusion.

“teach me.” you repeat yourself, bordering on a whine.

“how to fold my underwear?”

you innocently nod your head as a reply.

“why?” he asks, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because of your unusual request. but then again, he can’t say he’s much that surprised. it’s such a you thing to do.

“i can’t?” your lips form an adorably small pout, and you sniffle as your eyes water with unshed tears of drowsiness. “but you’re my boyfriend.”

fuck fuck fuck, he curses inside his head. his heart flips and drops to his stomach. holy shit, yes he is. it’s infuriating, how it requires you little to no effort to have him wrapped around your finger. the endearing sight automatically tugs at his heartstrings, urging him to cradle your soft cheeks in between his large palms.

“i’m just curious.” he reassures you with a chuckle, leaning down to press one more sweet kiss to your lips.

“we do chores together…” you trail off, nose scrunching when his brushes yours. you smile sheepishly. you’re relishing in the mere inches between you — how you can see that his pupils are evidently dilated, his brown doe eyes appearing rounder and bigger than they already are. “so i just want to learn how to do it right.”

you swiftly throw aside the blanket enveloping you when he voices out his permission with an “it’s so easy!”, cheerfully jumping off the bed. captivated by your unique charm, jungkook allows himself to be dragged away as a breathing, walking picture of pure adoration.

—

he finds himself sitting on the same spot on the floor, back comfortably resting on the cabinets now that you’re beside him instead of on him. your drooping eyes follow the every movement of his dexterous hands as he folds a calvin klein trunk on his lap, black with a white waistband. wearing an orange beanie of his you found stuck underneath the laundry basket, you obediently bounce your head as he earnestly demonstrates it with instructions.

“so you take this side and fold it over to the middle, and then! you do the same with the other one, so they’re folded equally like this.”

he briefly picks it up to show it to you from rim of the waistband, the two parts stacked and perfectly aligned.

“after that, you take the bottom and roll it over like… halfway? whatever, i just kind of do it by feel- and the final step… so you also fold the waistband here so you can tuck the rolled up part inside. it ends up looking this neat and compact, see?”

your gaze only flickers at the finished product, having seen what it looks like about a thousand times in his backpacks and luggages. “so these are called trunks… and those are called boxers?”

your boyfriend follows the direction your index finger is pointing at, revealing a pile of folded boxers sitting inside of his opened suitcase. he winces with his full set of teeth before he cracks up in laughter, the genuine curiosity you radiate is making his brain overflow with love and happy chemicals.

“right! those are more comfortable and breathable so i wear them at home, while trunks provide more support for when i need it, you know?”

“snug fit or loose fit this, boxers or boxer briefs that. you strip them off all the time to put your dick in me anyway.” you scoff, picking up another calvin klein creation from the laundry basket immediately afterwards.

a string of ditzy giggles slip past your lips. the light blue trunk was standing out among the neutral colors like a firefly in the forest, practically begging to be chosen as your first piece of work.

“i’ll do this one! you wore it yesterday. i love the color.”

his lips part open in surprise at your lewd and unfiltered response, a hand flying to his face to conceal the rosy shade that has begun to tint his flushed honey skin, many earrings collectively swinging and belly aching as he chortles. it’s embarrassing, really, how he still blushes despite having done countless sinful things with you. can you really blame him for being incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s so helplessly and hopelessly attracted to you?

he clears his throat, crossing his legs and moving to his side so he’s facing you. “go on then.”

you flap it against the air to straighten out the fabric, placing it over your thighs and meticulously following your boyfriend’s instructions step-by-step. you’re quiet as you commit yourself to the chore, floating in your little bubble of tranquility and concentration.

and jungkook is intently watching you with as much self-control he can muster. the urge to grab your face and kiss you senselessly is palpable, wrapping itself around his limbs like vines that have a life of their own, desperate to dip into the sun for a taste. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and he can attest to that to a certain degree… but dear god, its lack thereof?

there’s no sensible reason why the both of you should be spending your late nights in your new apartment doing stuff like this when you have an entire 55-inch television set up on the floor because you haven’t found the time and energy to attach it to the bedroom wall yet… and not to mention that jungkook had to write more batteries all types of batteries, tongs, and curtains as CURTAINS!!! in your little notebook of to-buy checklists because somehow, they never crossed either of your minds the last two times you went shopping for your remaining home essentials. his new gaming chair arrived this afternoon and he has zero clue where he will insert assembly time into his busy schedule. one of these days, you’re also bound to discover the plant namjoon left as a gift three days ago. he placed it at the balcony, and it’s only surviving due to the fact that it’s been a relatively rainy month.

although, that’s precisely what makes this moment so priceless and so grounding. you smoothly finish the challenge and sing “ta-da!” with a beam that causes your eyes to twinkle with a tiny sense of achievement despite your apparent exhaustion.

“oh?! looks perfect. good job, baby. goob job.” he praises you with a grin, affectionately stroking your hair. “let’s work together so we can go to sleep.”

his thoughtful words and action make you keen, coaxing the giddiness in you to bubble over. you playfully nudge his side as you haul the laundry basket closer. “i want to play. let’s see who can fold the most in a minute!”

“play?” his shoulders deflate as he sighs, battery running low.

“no?” your lips pucker up in dismay. “too tired, love?”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he gives it some consideration. he shrugs. “what’s in it for me?”

oh, damn it.

“the winner also automatically wins the light fixture debate?”

in which you’re referring to your month-long dispute over which color of the cloud light you should purchase for your shared bedroom. he insists on the white cloud that has the white light because it looks like a thundercloud, and on the other hand, you’re fighting for the pink cloud with the yellow light because it looks like the sunrise or the sunset depending on its saturation and brightness.

“alright!” he blurts out, a surge of energy kickstarting his system. he snatches his phone, which he left in one of the empty shelves near him. “baby wants to play a dangerous game, huh? the stakes are incredibly high! too high! are you ready? to lose?”

your mood sours when he begins using his variety show hosting voice, confidence dwindling but determination fueled and burning brighter now that he’s in higher spirits.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, sure. ready to lose the white variation in my cart, bro.”

he smirks mischievously, his childish and devilish laughter echoing in the closet. “we’ll start the timer! in three…! one- go!”

“freeze, you cheater! i wasn’t ready! put that shit down!”

—

note: soooo, are you team oc or team jungkook? i will be keeping score 👩‍💻

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm to be added or removed :D

—

[ibelievewhatyousaid]

The Sinner’s assigned Abnormalities in L. Corp are very intriguing to me, as not being a general “resonance,” that Limbus uses with its current day Ego. But! They were assigned that for a given reason, even if only on a meta level, so I’d like to put my two cents into it as I love the Lobcorp Abnos so much. These are simplified summaries of the Abnormalities and speculation on how they fit said Sinner.

Faust - Forsaken Murderer

I do not believe she has an Ego Gift adored to her except the one for this Abno, so we can focus in on this purely; all being of Forsaken Murderer. (On this note, although I am not talking about the realization Ruina Egos, Meursault has Ego for this Abno as well) Forsaken Murderer in his original logs was said to have been a murderer in federal prison to have been sentenced to death. Before that could take place, a bunch of researchers decided to experiment on him. They wanted to prove an innate “evil,” existed and on a further level, they wanted to “cure,” him, although unclear what it really was they wanted to cure. Their experiments twisted out all of his penitence for violence, turning him docile, until he came to this belief of ringing in his head, that his head itself had became metal, leading to self harm against himself. Eventually a fatal accident happens, the researchers jump the ship and decide to simply dissect his brain, until the end he muttered, “ends, begins, ends, begins, end.”

NOW, this is hard to shape into Faust’s story, given how little we know about her on a deeper level, but, I think there’s already (shallow-ish) connections we can make. Faust has a lot of implications of science experiment (Child in a Flask, Telepole) whether we take this ‘literally,’ it’s safe to say either way Faustcord keeps her on a tight leash as being an “experiment” of a Faust who is willing to take a gamble. A lot of Forsaken Murderer focuses on the fact he is chained and tied up but “free as any other man,” we could take this as Faust’s expectation of being a skilled scientist and genius who is bound by those around her, to fulfill that role, yet “free,” at the sake of being all knowing. Faust is “omnipresent,” yet she is just another in a chain of command. In TKT she mentions to Vergilius that both of them “know their place,” despite how great she is, how “free,” of knowing she is, she is just another chain, in both the City and Dante’s contract to the sinners. We can also go deeper with this concept of “inevitably,” of the city, given to her by a predestined plan of fates, in every mirror world, how it all will end has already been put into motion. To know of how tied you are to fate surely must be a token of freedom as well, can’t it? He also seems to have a bit of an ego, a Ruina line of his being, “Don’t look at me with those eyes. You’re the most pitiful one here.” Which, fits Faust’s need to be above others, such as “Faust is brilliant, smart, Yi Sang is a genius.” An implication that Yi Sang had a cap on how brilliant he can be, something he must’ve lucked into, Faust was born to be great. Even if she is regrettably pitiful in every other aspect. An inability to connect to others or form meaningful attachments, this especially rears its head in events were her intelligence creates gaps between her and others, all of MotWE or Dante’s brush off of her in Canto 6 when she cannot given them an answer, or, even earlier, Sinclair accusing Faust and Limbus using the Sinners as compasses to boughs. In all situations it leaves her isolated and awkward, unable to answer, creating a larger, pitiful wedge between her and others, despite how great she is. She is still a thing to be “studied,” whether from an actual scientist or to other versions of her, or those around her, she is a spectacle.

Outis - Der Freishütz / Bloodbath

The story of Der Freischütz in Lobcorp was of a marksman making a deal with the devil, the devil proposed that the gun could shoot anyone, on the last bullet it would pierce the person the marksman loved, in return, the devil would gain the marksman soul in hell. The marksman thus went through all his bullets, killing off all his loved ones. The marksman traveled, simply doing good and bad deeds in impulse, no sign of an actual moral code. Eventually, he realized that the devil had long since stopped following him. He realizes that the contract had long been fulfilled, since the very beginning of him giving up his loved ones, did he fall to hell. And so, now a devil as well, the marksman continued to shoot anyone he wanted, forever.

Again, another sinner we’re left out in the cold for. But, to tap into Outis’ source, The Odyssey, the story follows Odysseus’ desperation to finally reach home, to his family. As the stories play out the more Odysseus gives up his morals. To sacrificing his men to no mercy, a king who was once gentle and kind, gives up all people around him to succeed in arriving home. Of course, from the start, Odysseus had given up his family, a mother who died alone, a wife left waiting for over a decade, a son who had never known him. Odysseus also makes many deals with Gods around him, something he pays greatly later for. Of course, none of this is a one for one, but I think it is to mimic Odysseus, or here, Outis’ slower decent into someone who hurts those who she loves (or should’ve) by her cruelty, once Odysseus had set off to war was the moment he was bound to lose everything. Which, is very similar to how Der Freishütz is, he had lost his humanity the moment he made the deal.

Bloodbath is a Abno based overtly on Carmen, but, to ease it into a more general baseless story, the Abnormality represents: “the pain of all those who couldn’t take their sorrow in stride.” A huge focus on Bloodbath is the guilt of love, of unable to achieve success, using “scars” as marks of failure. The bath mocks the person peering in with hands reaching out desperately, as if begging to be saved, or joined, in this misery. It’s a sign of endless despair, unable to ever reach the climax of this, the only outcome is to accept this wave of despair and let yourself accept it.

So, arguably this fits Outis really well just on the bases of the line: “Many hands float in the bath. They are the hands of the people I once loved.” This once again, is more of a line of thinking born from her source, but a lot of Odysseus’ guilt is haunting to him, specifically that of Penelope, but overall, he gives up many men, including people very close to him, to never truly “succeed,” I feel like this one is easier to connect to, given what I said of the previous Abno to Outis, so.

Don Quixote - Meat Lantern / Void Dream / Fragment of the Universe

Meat Lantern is quite.. obtuse, in its logs, both in Lobcorp and LoR most is left obscure. Which is terribly fitting. Meat Lantern, by your guess, is obviously not a tiny little flower. The logs say that it is gigantic, underneath the entire facility, always waiting, it lures people in, in L. Corp’s lens, it lures in employees by being a lantern, something shiny, full of hope, they haven’t seen stuck underground for so long. Any nature, any lights, something that wasn’t horrific or artificial has long since been lost to everyone there. It’s easy to feel it calling to them, to reach out, to touch, but it’s all a ploy to devour and eat whoever trusts it.

So, Donqui’s Abnos are actually what made me originally want to write about them. I had written out my analysis of hers a few months before, but it was too hinged on my own reading of her that it felt easy to write off as me sounding insane. But! With the reveal of MotWE.. this seems, pretty obvious. (Glad to know I’m not too crazy) Don Quixote wears a mask, one of “hope” something born from really just being .. silly, of something rare in the City. Someone who genuinely believes in good? In hope? Here? As “Don Quixote” stands as an ideal, a concept, “too good to be true.” and beneath that is a “reality,” no one’s has “really ever seen.” (as the log says about the “real body” of Meat Lantern) and then “devours” people. Yeah. I bet.

Void Dream’s logs follow someone who has Void Dream eat all their nightmares, giving them the best dream they could have imagined, the person they love had returned, even working in such a horrible company that is L. Corp was good. Everything was so, so amazing, a perfect ideal world for the dreamer. When waking up, the person was crushed by reality, when forced to confront the truth they became despaired. They tried to find those dreams again, in an obsession, but, they never did come back. The employee comes to the realization that Void Dream’s deal was too good to be true, that from the start, the Abno had set them up. And they had lost, unable to enjoy either sides of reality or dreams, they find their way back to Void Dream and beg them to eat all their dreams. Stealing away all their dreams, nightmares, hopes and despairs, virtually leaving them empty. When Void Dream is accused of leading people on, it brushes off the person, insisting it just wishes the best for others. The line, “a demon must change its shape to deceive others.”

Originally, I had read this purely as Don Quixote being put into the victim’s prospective, someone who “wakes up” from a perfect dream to be crushed by reality. And, I don’t actually disagree, I think this still 100% fits. But I think her fitting “as” the Abnormality makes perfect sense, too. Obviously, the whole “deceiving others,” line fits. To change one’s shape, a “demon” a Bloodfiend, to deceive others into seeing it as innocent, pure, true to the ideals it preaches. But, and this is a bit speculation on what we know very little of, “Don Quixote,” was given, or is a dream herself that a Bloodfiend wishes to dream, that Bloodfiend must’ve spun this tale, this “perfect” dream is an “act of kindness,” despite not being kind at all. Despite giving out this dream, not only to herself, but to others around her, does it lead to destruction and a harsher fall to reality itself.

Fragment of the Universe.. actually isn’t an Abnormality. At least, not traditionally, if the logs are true. The log mentions how it let itself be caught and studied, and through studying they declared it “intelligent enough” to communicate via language, thus, it learned more and more of humans and humanity. It became endeared and loved people. It reflected what it saw, leading to it looking like a kid’s drawings of hearts. When asked why it had came to interact with humans, it said it wanted to spread messages. One being its song, a song of the universe that drove people crazy, but also let them “finally see the stars,” and also to inform everyone that “there are no coincidences in the universe.”

FotU is really intertwined to its love of humanity, even its design is rooted in this love for the species. Its aim to spread its song is to “relieve” people, as well, even if misguided or unable to be understood. I think Don Quixote, as a concept, is so terribly human. She’s overly emotional, she’s quick to action, strong morals, she’s clumsy and brave and fearful and determined. She is so very human that it backfires. Given Cassetti’s lines, “we are so, so hideous behind the mask.” and his dedication as well as other Bloodfiends to “run” from being monsters and Elena’s lines of her wondering if she was desperate enough to “chase after being an ordinary human again.” I think the Bloodfiend behind Don Quixote genuinely loves humans, and, most likely, wants to “be” one. And “reflects” what she sees, which is a habit Donqui has, mirroring Merusault in TKT, or wishing to “copy” other sinners from Outis’ wristwatch. Donqui also has a huge tie to stars, so, so many of her IDs have her mentioning them, not to mention her tagline. I think an Abno who knows far more than it lets on, powerful, letting itself into humanity, coming to love them, but never being one, is dreadfully fitting.

Yi Sang - Funeral of the Dead Butterflies

FotDB is an Abnormality born from the pain and suffering of.. Lobotomy Corporation, actually! It’s a mourner who is rumored to wandering the halls of the facility with a coffin for those who are bound to be lost, an early mourning for those who are destined to die, and an incomplete sorrow for those already gone, the coffin too small to fit them all, unable to fall asleep or escape. The ending of the log decides that there is no escape, these butterflies are damned to wait, because there “must be an end to every world.”

I think, just like with Gregor’s case, although the original Abnormality is directly tied to L. Corp, in a more general definition, it is about the pain and sorrow of those inevitable deaths born from things such as K corp, or the Smoke War. Cases of people’s lives being thrown away and devalued, not given proper burials, no home to escape to, a fate to dying here, leaving the mourning to the others in the same situation who simply “lucked out.” In Yi Sang’s case, an “ending for every world,” feels very deliberate to the “world,” in which he was locked up in a cage, passively awaiting the days for it to end, one way or another, only to realize he was able to walk out, that the door was never locked. Yi Sang’s grief and attachment to the League of Nine, the only person who seems to grieve over those loses, alone, carrying that pain wherever he goes. In that sense, “an ending to every world,” could also be turned into a guaranteed ending of things he loved as well. There is more to be said, but this one seems very obvious.

Ryōshū - Spider Bud / One sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds / Scorched Girl / Bloodbath / Big and Will be Bad Wolf

(Oh my God girl. Do you need that many???)

Spider Bud is an Abno that is deeply protective of her babies, quite literally her alternative name being “brood mother,” she reacts negatively and violent if an Agent hurts or steps on her children

Ryōshū has gotten this Abno thrice now. It’s gotta be important, and yeah, it is! This is born purely from her Source, but Yoshihide’s tragedy is losing his daughter, Spider Bud’s entire gimmick is being peaceful (as an Abno can be) unless someone hurts her children, she stalks and watches and exacts revenge against those people. I didn’t want to bring in Uptie stories, but Ryōshū’s uncharacteristic gentleness to the spiderlings who nip at her is really.. striking. Once again, this one feels kind of.. duh, so I won’t go much deeper into it.

One Sin is an Abnormality with the purpose of being confessed to, to relieve one of their sins, it’s tied to religion to Hell’s screen gimmick of.. Hell.. feels, yes, but I feel as though this is more general and disingenuous from One Sin’s connection to Christianity while Hell’s screen is about Buddhism’s hell. Instead this felt more interlined to Parallel Gebura. A lot of people have jumped on this for power scaling fun, but! I think it’s important to realize why Carmen would’ve said “At least similar in this regard,” my take is that a huge aspect of Gebura’s woes in Lobcorp was her unable to protect those she loved. Given Yoshihide’s tragedy here, unable to protect his daughter. I think that is the aim that makes the most sense right now with how very little we have about Ryōshū.

Scorched Girl is another Abnormality she’s already gotten, all in all, SG lives on a sense of angered revenge and self destruction. Her logs depict her to be torn in two from her desire of affection to one of wishing harm on others.

Her attempt at hurting others involves hurting herself, which lines up with Yoshihide’s ending, of his natural self destructiveness, how he makes his art and his death. Her rage also lines up with Ryōshū’s, a want to have back warmth, love she’s lost, but only able to be a match of destruction.

Bloodbath, we already covered this in Outis’ section! I think Outis and Ryōshū naturally align similarly, (Hong Lu, Mr. “Horrific family” isn’t ever the one getting cold or aloof to mentions of family or parents or children, it’s only ever these two!) A guilt of unable to succeed despite how much you gave up and sacrificed, including others And to lose those you love, the hands in the water being everyone you’ve ever loved, by your own faults.

Finally, Big and Will be Bad Wolf! The Abnormality is about being set up from birth being one way. From the way society sees you, you will always be what they depict you as. The Abnormality doesn’t feel remorse over the violence it causes, because it was “inevitable” he’d turn out this way. Who is he to blame nature? Regardless of nurture.

This one is the most hard to really fit without going “well, just a hunch.” I think this could be in regards to Yoshihide’s further and further acts of violence and pain to others around him, but unable to feel that remorse (until it is too late) because he was born with this way. He was “born” an “artist.” Who is he to defy things sacrificed for art? He is unable to be anything but cruel and vindictive, and he doesn’t try to be.

Well, that’s everything I could remember off the top of my head! Apologies if it starts to get a little weaker by the end, I’ve been typing for hours. In general, there’s more I could say or conclude, but, because of how loose Abnos are in concept, as well as how most of these Sinners (everyone but Yi Sang…) haven’t had their cantos yet, it leaves a lot of assumptions built upon their sources and short behavior ticks we’ve seen them display. I won’t say these are confirmed or sure fire takes but more so a jumping off point in fathoming these choices.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thought I’d show you how I’ve been going about my digital drawings - I just discovered that you can video procreate - so maybe I’ll do one of those in the future, but for the Ryan and Oliver digital drawings I did, I can show you my layers and how I worked because I was taking screenshots of my progress!!!

First up Oliver

So original photo

my line sketch - with colour coding as it was easier to do it this way!

Background done

colour blocking - ngl I actually really like it when it looked like this it just tickles the right part of my brain!

Now all the colours are sudged together and I've added in some of the texture

Finished piece!

Now onto Ryan!

Original Photo

Line drawing - he looks like a sailor because I went a bit ott with lining in the beard!

Background and clothes done!

Working on the skin - the neck was actually a real challenge!

Arm and ear finished

Face in progress - he looks so creepy without eyes and I spent soooo long on his lips - I think I erased them like 4 times - but it was worth it because I am soo happy with how they turned out!

one eye in progress

Then I was annoyed with eyes so I did some of his hair before going back to his second eye!

Final piece

and there you have it - me with zero procreate or digital drawing experience having a mess around with the brushes and seeing what I could actually do and I'm obsessed with how they both turned out!

I've been doing some tutorials on procreate - so hopefully I'll get better now I"m learning how to alter the brushes and things!

Hope you enjoyed this little look at how I created my two pieces - I'm going to look at getting prints done (when I have the actual time to do the research!) so if anyone would be interested in prints please let me know in the comments and I'll let you know once I have everything sorted out!

[illumnis]

finish line. — you and alhaitham are not friends, far from it. you're not exactly lovers either; so why does he decide to take ten steps back and settle for aquaintances?

pairing: alhaitham x gn!reader

warnings: kinda toxic? idk to each and their own, he's just really emotionally ignorant, mentions of non-sexual nudity, angst, unedited

note: look what i'm back with (i am so sorry this is bad,,, i haven't written in AGES), also happy summer i am officially not a highschooler anymore!

alhaitham is efficient. he decides what is considered more work than necessary and greatly succeeds with the basic necessities. this also means that alhaitham has every intention to finish what he starts and only starts what he knows he can finish.

alhaitham also holds your hand so you can fall asleep at night despite the nightmares that plague your imagination, but he leaves before you can wake up. alhaitham helps you scrub away the finely ground sand off of your sweaty body after a research project done on the dunes residing in the sumerian desert, even allowing you to do the same to him, but he always rejects your offer to cook him dinner afterwards in celebration of the grueling excursion. alhaitham whispers how you're devastatingly beautiful as he washes your hair without care if you hear him or not, but he can't bring himself to help you dry it.

for once in his life, alhaitham has started something he can't bring himself to finish.

he wonders why you're bitter all of a sudden. how you can't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes anymore, how you walk a step behind him instead of a linked pace, how you don't let him touch your hair anymore, how you don't invite him over or ask if you can tag along on his journeys to the desert.

you're avoiding him and he blames his irritation on the fact that friends aren't supposed to brush each other off.

you're not entirely sure when the two of you started treading the line between acceptable and having alhaitham push you away, but the unspoken agreement was that this was all it was going to be. you're not like alhaitham. often times, you walk the world on your terms, which must be why you now found yourself on the opposing side of the agreement.

who can blame you? he's seen you, flesh and bone. under your clothes and to your heart. he's seen you, your rampant imagination, both the good and the bad parts. he's seen you most vulnerable, stating that even this side of you is worth adoring.

the waiting game was a exhausting one, even before, you knew he'd be the last person to bring your... situation with him up; which is why you settle for slowly stretching the strings of your relationship until they snap, and you never have to look back.

or that was at least the idea until you were crying behind the akademiya over an offhanded comment that your least favourite professor had made about you. he was there, somehow he always is, and he was holding you. his warmth was the same as it had been since you had last invited him over, which only made you cry more. had your absence not frosted his heart over at least a little?

by the time you're done crying, you are no longer in his arms and he looks at you with a mixture of hurt and comfort. something vengeful in you is satisfied that you have given him a taste of how he leaves you.

"i'll always be here when you need me, yn, regardless of if you choose to stop being acquainted with me or not."

somehow, his reassuring words do the opposite and the vengeful spirit in you grows.

"then why can't you let me need you all the time? what's stopping you from letting us rely on each other? it's not like you act like we don't already."

this seals his lips and a subtle frown paints itself over his them and something inside you aches. you have always prided yourself in being able to bring the most emotion out of him that anyone has in years. now, you are stuck with pitiful expressions; frowns nonetheless.

it's a heavy silence that takes over the atmosphere before you've decided that whether you hear his answer or not, you'll still hear your glass heart shatter. so you move to get up.

"i can't take the risk. not yet." it flows out of his mouth so naturally. almost like he's been waiting for your confrontation.

"risk? what risk, alhaitham? look at what you've started, you've already taken it," you're fuming, a new level of self-loathing filling your being at the idea of you being so naive to believe that someone who can't even call you a friend could be full of love, "either finish what you've started, or destroy it before you lose yourself in it."

alhaitham's silence elicits a scoff from your lips and you're grateful you had shaken yourself out of his touch earlier, or else you'd find yourself back at square one; forgiving him and asking once more if he'd let you make him dinner hoping his answer would be different.

you'll help him out one last time, you guess. walking away as he doesn’t spare you a glance, stuck in the position that was meant to comfort you, only for it to end whatever mess he had started.

navi. mlist.

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

“Let’s go over it again,” Grayson said firmly, her sharp eyes scanning the cluttered room. She adjusted her posture, her authoritative demeanor unwavering despite the disarray.

“You have to believe me. I didn’t do this,” Jayce pleaded, his voice cracking slightly as he gestured helplessly at the mess around him.

Grayson folded her arms, her brows knitting together in a frown. “Relax, kid. We know it was a break-in, but that doesn’t explain this.” Her gaze swept over the piles of unregistered items and mechanisms that didn’t belong in an ordinary lab. “There’s a lot of restricted items here, and I don’t see any permits. You wanna tell me how you got them?”

“Hey, hey! Be careful with that, please,” Jayce shouted suddenly, his panic redirected toward an enforcer who carelessly lifted a wooden beam off one of the blue crystals.

“I believe someone should have said that earlier,” Viktor commented, his soft yet deliberate accent cutting through the tension as he turned away from the chalkboard. “What happened here?”

Jayce let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a headache. “Science, I guess,” he muttered, his tone both defensive and resigned.

“Last time I checked, science didn’t require illegal equipment,” Grayson shot back, her tone laced with skepticism. She pointed toward a particularly ominous-looking device nestled among the rubble.

“Nor was this approved by the Academy,” Viktor added, stepping closer. His limp was noticeable, but it didn’t diminish the air of authority he carried. “Who authorized your research?”

“It was an independent study… Who are you anyway?” Jayce asked, his tone shifting to irritation as he stared at the thin, pale man before him.

“I’m assistant to the Dean of the Academy,” Viktor replied coolly, his golden-brown eyes narrowing slightly, “Who it may serve you to remember is also head of the Council.” He leaned on his cane as he delivered the reminder. “He sent me here to ensure that anything dangerous is removed safely… Which, according to my list, includes you.”

“What?!” Jayce’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How am I dangerous?”

“Uh, that’s for the Council to decide,” Viktor said with a slight shrug, gesturing to an enforcer to move in. 

As the officer approached, Viktor’s attention shifted, his analytical gaze locking onto the chaos surrounding them. Something had caught his eye, a glint of metal among the debris.

Limping toward it, Viktor bent down as best he could, his thin fingers brushing against the cold surface of a small object. His breath hitched as he lifted it. ‘It can’t be…’

In his hands was a pocket watch, its metallic casing adorned with intricate filigree details. The center of the watch face displayed a celestial design, the deep blue background shimmering under the dim light. A radiant sun and crescent moon were etched delicately, their delicate rays intertwined in perfect harmony.

‘You’re like the moon, and I’m like the sun! Whenever I shine, everyone loves me! And whenever you shine, everyone thinks you’re beautiful!’ Viktor’s hand trembled slightly as he stared at the watch, memories flooding back. 

‘Y/N… It’s been years since I last saw you…’ His lips pressed into a thin line as he fought to suppress the emotions threatening to surface. ‘I wonder how you’ve been doing, mojí drahoušek…’

Sure, Y/N had been known for stealing things. In fact, the whole reason she and Viktor met was because she had stolen something from a few people! But… Would she really dare to steal from Piltover?

Was it fate that they’d meet again? Viktor wasn’t sure if he should be happy or guilty for the fact that they might meet again.

Straightening as much as his body allowed, Viktor pocketed the watch carefully. His expression was unreadable, but his mind was racing, consumed by the past and the implications of finding such a thing here.

_____________________________________________________

The enforcer threw Y/N against the wall with a force that knocked the air out of her lungs. Her back slammed hard into the rough, crumbling bricks, and before she could react, his hand clamped around her throat.

She clawed at his arm instinctively, gasping for air as her vision blurred slightly at the edges. His face loomed close, contorted with anger, and the veins in his neck stood out as he barked at her.

“Tell me who they were!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty alleyway. The metallic clink of his squad’s boots on the pavement was a chilling backdrop to his fury.

“I-I don’t know!” Y/N stammered, her voice raw with desperation as she tried to force the words out. “They were a couple of older people! H-Had green and yellow hair!” She winced as her back scraped against the wall when he pressed her even harder against it.

“Liar!” the enforcer snarled, his face inches from hers. The venom in his voice was noticeable, his hatred seething just beneath the surface. He shoved her further into the wall, grinding her shoulders painfully into the coarse surface. “You people are all the same. Liars, thieves, you’ll do anything to scrape by. Pathetic.”

Y/N’s pulse pounded in her ears, her chest heaving as she struggled to get even a sliver of air into her lungs. The pressure on her throat was unbearable, but she pushed past the terror and managed to rasp, “A-and who set that system u-up?!”

Her words, though faint, hit a nerve. The enforcer’s grip faltered for just a second before he released her completely, letting her drop unceremoniously to the ground. 

She crumpled to her knees, coughing violently as she clutched at her throat, trying to soothe the raw, bruised skin. 

Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before a sharp pain erupted in her side, his heavy boot connected with her ribs, sending her sprawling onto the filthy, rain-soaked ground.

“You dirty scumbags are worth nothing,” He spat coldly. The heavy tread of his and his squad's boots receded into the distance, leaving Y/N alone in the silence of the alley.

“Psst! Up here!” a voice hissed from above. Y/N tilted her head weakly, squinting through the blood and dirt smearing her face. She spotted Ekko crouched on the rooftop, his wide eyes glowing with concern as he waved her over. 

Her chest still heaving, she forced herself to her feet. Her entire body protested with every movement, pain shooting through her ribs, but she gritted her teeth and reached for the ladder.

“Are you okay?” Ekko whispered as she finally pulled herself over the edge of the roof. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his gaze scanning the bruises on her face and the blood trailing from her nose.

“Yeah,” She croaked, her voice raspy and tired. “Just accidentally got pinned down by some of the enforcers.” She offered a small, strained smile that didn’t do much to hide her discomfort. “Ekko, the enforcers are looking for the rest of them. We need to get back.”

Ekko’s eyes widened, and he nodded solemnly. Without another word, the two darted across the rooftops, the wind biting at their skin as they moved. Y/N’s body screamed in protest with each jump and landing, but she didn’t slow down. They had to make it in time, there was no other option.

The Last Drop loomed ahead, its faint lights barely visible through the grime and smog of the undercity. They slipped inside through the roof, sliding into the dim, cluttered basement undetected. The faint hum of muffled voices reached them as they climbed onto the beams above.

Y/N scanned the dimly lit room, her sharp gaze immediately meeting Vi’s. Vi’s expression shifted to alarm as she noticed the blood on Y/N’s face and the bruises beginning to form on her skin. Y/N tilted her head, giving her a small, reassuring smile. She was okay, at least, that’s what she wanted Vi to think.

Her attention snapped to the sound of a creak. Powder was losing her balance, her foot slipping against the uneven beam. Y/N’s stomach flipped, her heart racing as she lunged forward, barely managing to grab hold of Powder’s shirt. 

Her fingers clenched tightly around the fabric, her other hand locking onto a beam to steady herself.

The faint light flickered ominously, then blinked out, plunging the room into darkness. A second later, the basement door slammed shut with an ominous thud. 

Powder gasped, losing her footing entirely and falling to the ground with a sharp yelp. 

Y/N dropped down after her, ignoring the protest of her battered body. Her boots hit the floor with a solid thud, and she crouched to help Powder up. 

Wiping the crusted blood from her face with the back of her hand, she straightened, her eyes meeting Vi’s concerned gaze.

“What happened to you, Y/N?” Vi asked, stepping closer. Her tone was sharp with worry, her brows furrowed.

“Enforcers happened,” Y/N replied flatly, her voice tinged with bitterness. She crossed her arms over her chest, wincing slightly at the ache in her ribs.

“Yeah! But she was a total badass!” Ekko chimed in, his face lighting up with excitement as he gestured wildly. “He was like, ‘Tell me who they were! You people are just liars and thieves!’ And she was all like, ‘And who set that system up?!’” He mimicked the enforcer’s gruff tone before switching to an exaggerated version of Y/N’s voice, grinning proudly.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light but short-lived. It felt good, even if just for a moment.

The basement door creaked open, and Vander’s imposing figure filled the doorway. He scanned the room, his expression tense. “Are you all okay?” he asked, his voice calm but heavy with concern.

Vi stepped forward, her jaw tight. “No, we’re not okay,” she snapped. “They almost saw Powder. What if they’d taken her?” Her voice rose, her anger barely contained as she glared at Vander.

“No one is taking any of you,” Vander said firmly, his voice unwavering. “I won’t let that happen.”

“It’s already happening!” Vi shot back, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Y/N almost got her ass handed to her and sent to jail! You heard him, Vander. They won’t stop. They never stop. We need to fight back!” She slammed her fist into the wall with a loud thud. “And if you won’t, I will.”

Vander’s shoulders sagged, and he sighed deeply. “I’ve heard this kind of talk before,” he murmured, his voice low.

_____________________________________________________

Mojí drahoušek. Viktor scoffed at his own words, the ink smudging slightly as he scratched them out with a frustrated sigh. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the half-finished letter as if it could somehow write itself.

It had been years. Years since he’d seen her, heard her voice, or even allowed himself to think of her without that familiar ache creeping into his chest. Yet here he was, pen in hand, the words refusing to come out as smoothly as they once might have.

“It’s been a long time, Y/N,” He muttered, his voice low and tinged with exasperation. His fingers drummed against the table for a moment before his hand shot to his face, rubbing at the weariness that seemed to cling to him. “Of course it’s been a long time. You left her.”

What was he thinking? Ever since he stumbled across that pocket watch, it had been impossible to keep his thoughts from straying to her. 

Her eyes, that piercing gaze that could read him like an open book. Her smile, rare but unforgettable. Everything about her haunted him, a ghost lingering just at the edge of his mind.

Viktor dipped his pen into the ink pot once more, his grip tightening as he resolved to try again.

Dear Y/N,It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

There are many questions I have to ask you. I would assume you’d think the same, though I suppose I have no right to assume what you’re thinking. I must apologize, leaving you was a mistake I’ve come to regret deeply. And yet despite the time and distance, I still find traces of you everywhere I go.

A lab partner of mine reminds me of you in more ways than one. The way he speaks, his stubborn determination to be right… It all brings you to mind. And then there are the smaller things.

The color olive green always makes me think of your cloak. I wonder, do you still have it? Or has it been discarded, like so many other pieces of our past?

You once told me we were like the sun and the moon, shining bright at different times. I told you we were more like two halves of the same coin yet didn’t realize that meant we were also destined to remain apart. The distance between us now feels so long, and I know it’s my fault. I let it grow. I let you slip away.

I found your mother’s pocket watch in the wreckage of my lab partners robbed lab. What a small world.

Magic and science… It's fascinating, isn’t it? The potential to intertwine them could revolutionize Piltover, though I can’t say the same for the Undercity.

I don’t expect to send you this letter. And if I do, I don’t expect a response. Nor do I expect you to act on anything I’ve said here. But I want you to know I’d like to return the pocket watch to you. 

I know how important it is, as a piece of your mother. Meet me in the Undercity, our old home. Perhaps in the alleyway where we first met. Where everything began.

This isn’t about closure for me; I’ve forfeited any right to peace of mind. Nor is it an attempt to make you remember me, I’m sure you already do. This is simply a transaction between old friends, nothing more. 

Afterward, we can go back to our separate lives. Though I doubt I’ll ever truly forget you, you have the choice to decide.

Love From, Viktor.

taglist: @night-fall-moon @cyberwears @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hi, could i request Alastor x reader where one of them does something nice/gives something to the other not realizing that in their culture it's equivalent of courting/proposing? And since the other is in love with them, they don't mention the connotations and it takes someone else to point it out for them to realize? :)

Going to be honest, I wasn't sure how to write this one, since I'm white and to my knowledge Alastor's a Creole man from 1930s, so I wasn't sure what from either of those cultures could be mistaken for a proposal. After doing some research I'm going to tweak this ask a bit, simply because I am not entirely comfortable representing other cultures that I am not a part of and only have a few hours worth of google research knowledge of. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted. If you or anyone has more specific traditions to use as examples, I'd be happy to try and expand on the idea.

(Or reinterpret this as like, flower language, gift giving symbolism by pagan standards, or crow language. Which not gonna liez my ADHD ass really wants to write a crow sinner giving them weird random stuff they find that they think the others would like.)

Anyway, I'm going to do things you'd do for each other that make you both wanna get married. Hope that's ok!

Alastor

It's not so much a single thing you do, but more like there is a single moment where he realizes he wants to marry you. And to be clear, his idea of marriage is going to be based off of what he grew up with and his own personal level of comfort with romance and intimacy (remember folks, aromantics have a spectrum as well and can get married and have perfectly happy, functional, healthy relationships and marriages).

It's probably not even a big grand gesture or anything. It's more likely something domestic and really sweet. Like it's post the finale fight with Adam, and he already knows he's getting attached because he let you help him get patched up. He lets you in his room, his space, and being touched by you is as easy and comfortable as it is with Rosie and Niffty, who have pretty much a free pass whenever.

Yet you're still always so respectful of his boundaries, of giving him subtle ways to avoid or redirect your touch if he's not feeling up to it. You never push, chosing to take what levels of affection he's willing to express but always letting him know you love him, and this last small thing is the thing that makes it click in his brain.

You bring him his coat, newly patched, cleaned of any trace of blood. The stitching is a little sloppy, crooked, and the fabric isn't lined up as well as it used to be, but you tried. He can see the effort and knows you spent hours holed up in your room after patching him up.

"I know it's not perfect, but it'll hold until you feel well enough to visit your tailor again." You say timidly, as if you expected rejection or critique. And while criticism wouldn't be unwarranted, he's just too emotional to say anything. His smile is gentle, a little wobbly, and he reaches out and brushes the coat aside to grab hold of you and pull you into a hug.

You're just so sweet and considerate, you understand him. He's not going to change, he doesn't want redemption, he thrives off the bloodshed and chaos of hell, but at the same time he's still just a man. And he wants you to be by his side for eternity, if he you want that too. He's never thought of marriage before but now...now he can't stop. He wants to have that with you. Domestic life, something to come home to.

He won't say anything right away, he wants his proposal to be perfect. He's going to have Rosie help him plan this every step of the way, but regardless, one day, you will be his partner.

As for what your moment with Alastor is, I think it entirely depends on what you value most in a partner. However, a general consensus I've seen in most of the fanfics and tumblr posts is the idea of Alastor showing us a softer side.

Not just showing us that he's more than a serial killer and cannibal with his own sense of morality. More than just feeling comfortable enough to let us initiate touch, hut genuinely letting us see past the Radio Demon persona.

Maybe it's by cooking for us and talking about how he learned the recipe from his Mama, which leads into him slowly opening up about her, how much he adored her. What she meant to him.

Maybe it's him and you at the bar in the hotel or in his room, sipping drinks, his jacket off, sleeves rolles up. Letting himself be casual and in a compromised state around you. Maybe he'll even take your hand and spin you across the dance floor like he used to with Mimzy. He doesn't even care if you're not that good, he can teach you, practice makes perfect, he just has fun with you.

Maybe it's a moment where he let's you touch him. Or seeks you out for help because he knows you won't say anything. Or if he humors you and flirts back when you tease him. Or let's say he has a tail and he doesn't snap your head off for accidentally touching it as you go by. Or he agrees to watch a movie with you or listen to a podcast despite how he feels about technology.

Maybe it's just a quiet night, sitting next to each other, each reading a book, his radio playing softly for background noise, and you look up to him to ask a question or say something and he's already watching you, a small, adoring smile on his face.

Take your pick of which one is the moment where your heart stops, your breath catches, and you realize that you wanna marry this man.

And then your delulu ass wakes up, lol.

Decide for yourself if you'd go through with a proposal or if you just accept how things are.

[duckymcdoorknob]

If At First You Don’t Succeed

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

@blue-little-angel Merry Christmas!! I’m your secret Santa this year!

Big shoutout to @squealing-santa ! This is always such a fun thing for all of us.

This was an interesting fic for me to write. I am still stuck in Sumeru, so I had no idea who Capitano is. After a month or so of research, I managed to create your present!!! Big shoutout to @fanfic-chan, @ticklish-n-stuff, @adrienisweird, @kurleefrie for helping me characterize him!!

Ships: None!

Warnings: This do have tickles n it ngl.

Prompt: Overhearing some soldiers badmouthing you, Capitano helps to ensure that your training isn’t in vain.

Tags: @blue-little-angel, @chrimsss

“MEN! WEAPONS AT THE READY!” Capitano’s voice boomed among the training ground. He walked behind his soldiers, arms behind his back. He stalked up and down the line, pacing directly behind his men, taking in their every move.

“Chin higher!”

“Straighten your back!”

“Don’t get distracted!”

You tried to listen carefully to everything he told your fellow soldiers. You straightened your back, rose your chin, and focused on your form. You blew an exhale through your lips, fingers tightening around the hilt of your polearm.

“(Y/N), excellent form. Let me see your technique,” your general praised, stopping behind you.

You felt his presence, despite him being a decent way apart from you. You exhaled again, closing your eyes before finally preparing a set of attacks.

About halfway through your showing, you jumped up, sweeping your polearm under you. Unfortunately, you hadn’t swept it far enough, and your heel landed on it, sending you crashing to the ground.

Capitano clicked his tongue, offering you a hand. “Up on your feet, soldier.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I thought I had it,” you murmured sheepishly.

“You do have it. Mistakes happen to the best of us,” he noted. “Press on; you can do this.”

You nodded, trying to brush away your embarrassment. Capitano walks past, taking notice of your drooping body language. You shake your head, retrying your moves repeatedly.

The more you tried, the more you made little mistakes. You felt eyes on you, hearing little snickers from your fellow soldiers. You were mortified, and you wanted nothing more than to hide away in your barrack and never re-emerge.

“It’s laughable how you even managed to get here. Such a clumsy thing you are,” one of your fellow soldiers quipped. “You must be a fool to think that you’d be a good representative of the Captain.”

“One bad day does not define my worth as a soldier,” you argued in reply.

“Right, and I’m going to be the one to take over for the Captain once he steps down,” he sneered. Him and the rest of the group disappeared to the mess hall, leaving you all alone on the training grounds.

You yelled out in frustration, flinging your polearm into the grass below. You sat criss-crossed with a huff, resting your chin in your hands. Eventually, you leaned backwards, laying on your back.

When you opened your eyes, you spotted your captain standing above you. Your eyes widened and you scrambled about, trying to stand.

“It’s cold,” he observed.

You stayed silent, mortified and ashamed.

“I can see your breath; it’s cold.”

“And?”

“You’ll be of no use if you’re frozen to the core,” he noted.

“I’m not of use anyways,” you grumbled.

Before giving you the chance to reply or deprecate yourself further, Capitano stiffened. He grabbed your shoulders and hauled you to your knees. He pulled your polearm out of the grass, placing it at your side. “On your feet, now.”

Oh dear, you didn’t like this tone he held.

You hesitantly rose to your feet, grabbing your polearm shamefully.

“Assume your stance.”

“Sir-“

“That is an order,” he growled

You flinched at his increasingly angry tone and sighed, assuming your stance.

“Keep your stance no matter the distraction.”

“Captain?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean by- gyEAHA!” Your arms tucked in close to your sides, clamping them down. “What the hell?!”

“Don’t falter. A soldier’s battle is one of utter focus.”

Another squeal left your lips as you felt a tweak on the back of your neck. “Sir!” you cried. “This is- NGH- highly innap-EEP! Inappropriate!”

“Focus up, (Y/N). I can’t seem to understand what the issue is here. I’m merely correcting your form.” If you could see your captain’s face, you could have sworn that you would have seen a cheeky grin.

“Cahahaptahahain!” You squealed as his fingers dug into a sensitive spot. Your body shook with gentle giggles, causing your form to falter.

“What’s wrong, cadet?”

“Cahahaptahahain! Ihihit tihihihickles!”

“Oh? Does it really? How curious…” he hummed, tracing gently over the same spot, causing more squeaky chuckles out of you. “Well, let this be a part of your training then.”

As you tried to hold your polearm upright, your body shook as you fought to curl in on yourself. His fingers wormed their way up to under your arms. Your giggles dissolved into full belly laughter.

Frantic laughter poured from your lips as tried to keep yourself from crumbling. Your eyes squeezed shut in mirth, you pleaded for your captain’s antics to cease.

“Stay focused, (Y/N). An assailant may use any means necessary to overtake you,” Capitano reported, wiggling his fingers under your arms with a bit more fervor, causing a yelp from you. “How precious. You really are so sensitive, aren’t you?”

A blush crept up to your cheeks at his teasing words. “Cahahaptahahain! Plehehehease!”

“Please? You wish for me to continue? Such a brilliant soldier who wants to train so diligently,” he hummed. “Quite notable… and quite honorable.”

Eventually, his fingers crept onto your most sensitive spot, causing your eyes to squeeze shut harder. “NAHAHAHA! CAHAHAPTAHAHAIN!”

“Endure it.”

“CMOHOHOHON! IHIHI CAHAHAHANT!”

“You’ve yet to beg me to stop, cadet,” he observed.

Damn it!

Eventually, your knees crumbled beneath you. You curled in on yourself, instantly letting go of your weapon. It fell quickly, the blade headed right for your head. Capitano knelt before you, one supportive hand on your back, and the other effortlessly catching the falling polearm.

“Careful, little one,” he warned, setting the polearm into the grass next to you. “Now… where was I? Ah, right-“

“NO!” You huffed, gripping his wrists. His fingers remained wiggling just above your worst sport. You giggled in anticipation. “Cahahahaptain plehehehease nohohoho mohohohore.”

“Alright, alright,” he soothed, gently rubbing your back.

You sighed, closing your eyes and catching your breath. Capitano continued to rub gentle circles on your back, looking upon you fondly through his mask as he watched you lean into his touch.

“You’ve done nothing but impress me so far, (Y/N),” he noted suddenly. “I heard what the others were accusing you of. I’m here to report that they are nothing but false.”

You scoffed, pulling your knees to your chest, “No, they’re right, Captain. I have far too much to do to improve before I’m worthy.”

“Worthy? More to improve?” He hummed dismissively. “My child, I would trust you the most out of all of your peers to guard my life.”

You perked up at that. “Do you really mean it?”

“So you had a hard day; it is inevitable for any soldier.”

“But I-“

“When I was a boy…” he began. “I was so infatuated with my sword. I was filled with excitement so quickly that I tried to become a master within a day. I ended up accidentally slicing off a large piece of my hair.”

A small snort left you, and you uncurled into a more relaxed position. “Really?”

“Really. When I first became a soldier, my pants fell during a physicality test. I didn’t show my face for a week.”

“There’s no way!” You chortled.

“There is. So, take my experiences to heart. Your mistakes will not define your future. Do not be afraid to make them.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, Captain.”

“You’re most welcome, little one.”

✪ ——— ╰( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・ﾟ. ——— ✪

[chaos-and-sparkles]

In Which I Ramble About Pavitr's Character Design and the Indian Cultural Stuff Related to It

DISCLAIMER: I'm an Indian, and these are all my thoughts and analyses, but I'm also just one person and by no means am I speaking for everyone. I am not all knowing, and I am not immune to being wrong sometimes. These points are all my own thoughts and stuff that I know through my lived cultural experiences and some history and book knowledge, but I've not particularly researched any of these. I'm just out here giving my take from what I know. This is mostly just going to be me rambling, okay? Okay. Let's go!

Anyway okay so I just wanna go from the top down:

No. 1:

First of all his hair

His fucking hair

This is one aspect that i k n o w I'm overthinking and probably wasn't as significantly thought out in the design but it just Spoke to me and by all accounts I'm not the only one

But I'm so glad we have him with his thick gorgeous fricking hair, especially them being like curly/wavy and slightly long instead of straight and cropped or whatever

Like. Indians usually have very thick and luscious hair, not everyone ofc but generally it's a thing, and it's considered a point of pride to have long dark thick hair.

And the thing is for the longest time the beauty standard in India was to have very straight and shiny hair, all the actresses and heroes were doing it, even though that's literally not the realistic case for a lot lot LOT of Indians. There's a pretty big variety of hair texture in India; some of it is regionally concentrated too, eg. in South India you get a lot of frizzy, tightly coiled hair that's rough textured, whereas curly hair is usually silkier and looser curled as you go Northwards,, Bengalis tend to have very wavy thick hair,, etc. By no means a rule or anything, it's just a thing that there's a lot of curl variety and a lot of it was for the longest time considered ugly and unkempt (there are some classist/regionalist elements to this stereotype also unsurprisingly) still is by some people,,, bc the standard was Shiny Straight Hair. It's a standard that's slowly shifting. It's currently leaning more on the wavy and voluminous side. But it's def a thing still.

All that to say, it makes me so so happy to see Pav with his curly-ish lush hair that he wears with such pride and style,, that are a symbol of his own pride and self care too!!!

Also the line about "coconut oil, prayers and good genetics" - I LOVE THAT REFERENCE AHAHABSSK, using coconut oil for the hair is a very common thing here, it's so so good for the hair and the scalp alike and it's relaxing to massage it in too.

I've seen people try to write Pavitr in fics as "quickly brushing some coconut oil through his hair" as part of his morning routine and. Um. That's not how it's done askaskjas, I don't mean to be rude to the writers at all, everyone does the best with what they know and no one knows everything, but also practically speaking that would be greasy and awful.

There are multiple ways to apply coconut oil, ofc. Coconut oil is often massaged into the scalp and rubbed into the hair like an hour before washing, sometimes with lemon juice mixed in, and then washed off when bathing. Some people, especially those with drier and finer hair, apply it as a regular after-hair-wash thing, too, but even so it needs to be rubbed in.

A really beloved thing we have is coconut oil champis, too! This is basically when you sit down cross legged in front of youe mother/grandmother, and she massages the coconut oil into your scalp and hair in a way that literally cures all tension and headaches and leaves your head reeling and is so so good for hair and stress and everything. It's a family bonding thing more than just a hair routine. It's not always done by the mom/grandmother ofc, it's just how most of us first experience it, and they have a technique that none of us can ever quite replicate to the same effect later. As we grow up, we often do it for ourselves and for others. It's a weekly or monthly or even just occasional thing depending on who you ask. But yeah that reference was great I love it dearly!

Also about the hair length

So in the current modern "civilized" standard (Indian schools and society in general tend to do a lot of shit trying to assimilate us into western culture and stamp out our own,, for example all my life I've been in schools where speaking Hindi and Telugu and stuff in class or in the hallways was Wrong and Forbidden and We Must Speak Only In English Bc We Are Educated And Cultured. This is so fucking hypocritical bc they would also have Hindi and Telugu classes and then criticize us for not getting it right or whatever), boys are meant to have short hair. Teachers literally single boys out in class for leaving their hair longer, not the exact length they set as the limit. This was my entire school experience; thankfully it doesn't seem to be the case in college, but that may just be bc I'm in an artsy college. In the workplace it's less stringent but it's still a thing.

HOWEVER, historically and culturally, long hair was considered good and even Important for both men and women. There's huge regional variations in this ofc; Maratha peshwas and higher classes and stuff for example wore a "pilaka" (idk what else it's called), which is the head shaven clean except a tuft in the middle that's sometimes braided. Brahmins still do it too.

But my point being, long hair was considered good for the most part, at most it would be worn in a bun for fighting and working,,, braids are a pretty big deal too. Having to cut your hair short=a symbol of dishonour and/or exile, or reserved for menial workers and so called "low classes".

(This is not stuff you even get explicitly told btw. This is stuff I've mostly inferred and studied from history and mythology and stuff , so there's no guarantee I'm 100% right)

Also, in Sikkhism (I'm not Sikh myself so correct me if I'm wrong, this is just what I know) having long hair is super fucking important for men. The hair is wrapped up in the turban, and the turban is a symbol of honour and pride and literally considered life. The long hair is considered sacred.

Removing the turban is basically a symbol of literally losing your honour pride and sense of self,, not just in Sikkhism, just generally at this point. Cutting your hair? Insult on injury.

Pavitr doesn't have particularly long hair ofc

But having grown up with such rigidly enforced things abt boys having very short cropped hair, it makes me so happy to see an Indian character who defies that.

Also!! Quick tangent about braids and their significance,, they're considered very beautiful and another symbol of pride, intricate buns and what not too! Just wanna drop this to give you an idea of what i mean:

In the Hindu myth of the Mahabharata, Draupadi, the wife of the Pandavas (she's a very interesting and important and beloved character, regionally also considered a goddess, she was a princess born of fire married to five princes and the vengeance for her honour literally fuelled the war for righteousness etc etc) vows never to braid her hair again until she has washed it in the blood of Dushasana, a man who forcefully tried to disrobe her in court (it's a whole myth of its own). At the apex of the war, Bheem, her husband, brings her his blood. She washes her hair in it and then for the first time in thirteen years, she braids it.

Braids are not as significant now but it was basically a Pretty Big Deal and I just wanted to talk abt it.

In Hinduism too the gods are portrayed with long hair, it's a Thing.

No. 2:

Okay so moving more downwards,, I have a bunch of Thoughts abt Pavs mask design!

Okay so obv we have the spiderweb-pattern that's a given.

But. The interesting parts are these:

The bindi-like design on his forehead.

Bc my point is

Sure that looks like a bindi. And that's beautiful in itself but I HAVE ANOTHER TAKE

Bindis are traditionally worn by women as a symbol of beauty, prosperity, and again, pride. But while nice, that's not quite a symbolism that fits imo

You know what else is ver similar where my mind immediately goes? A tilak.

The shape is kind of off for a tilak actually, a tilak is more of a U or a V with a dot or a flame-like stroke in the middle. So in that case it looks more like a bindi

But i really like thinking that it's inspired by a tilak too, bc

While a bindi is a decorative mark stuck or painted on a woman's forehead as a symbol of beauty and prosperity

A tilak is basically a mark that's finger-painted on the forehead of , usually a man but there's a softer smaller version for women too and ofc there are women warriors who got tilaks, for auspicious and blessing reasons. So in a Puja or ceremony, a tilak is put as a blessing and an auspicious thing, also meant to impart strength. The head of the household usually gets the most striking or biggest one.

Pandits usually wear tilaks for blessing purposes too, although their design is different and more elaborate than the ones given to others

Gods and goddesses had their own tilaks, some of them very distinctive like Shiva's

The part that applies to Pav is the warrior tilak

Basically before a king or warrior went to battle, it was customary to do a small sending off ritual and for the wife or mother to put the tilak for them and say "Vijay bhava" (may you be victorious)

It's still done for big undertakings and challenges like exams and new jobs and stuff.

It's basically for strength, bravery and victory

The main difference in a bindi and tilak is the intent:

Bindi is for beauty

Tilak is for valour

Which. For a HERO. Just. Chef's kiss.

2. the markings around his eyes!!

I'm sure this has been said before, but it's very very reminiscent of kathakali makeup.

Regionally there's a lot of eye makeup stuff also btw. There are some absolutely beautiful tribal designs and regional designs with a lot of colours but I cant remember specifics rn

Also!! The very distinctive black lines around Pav's eyes?? I love them sm bc they feel so so based in kohl and kajal. Another huge beauty and often pride related thing.

There's even a whole thing where a mother or older sister will often rub a bit of her kohl off on her fingertip and press it behind their loved one's ear so that "buri nazar na lage" (no one's bad gaze catches you). It's called a kaala teeka

The idea being that you're so beautiful and/or cute and bright and lovable and nothing should jinx that and nothing bad should happen to you. It's very rare now and I've never experienced it myself but it's so so precious <33

3. the white markings on his cheeks!

I've seen that explanation of how it's reminiscent of Ganesha, the elephant headed god who is kind of a symbol of new beginnings, intelligence, prosperity, and a ton of stuff I don't even know how to explain honestly, but he's very cool and beloved and has a lot of Good Vibes™ and i love him basically.

I personally am reminded more of kathakali makeup again!! But that explanation is very cool too and i like it!! I don't know if I agree bc i think it m i g h t be a blasphemy to have that imagery on your face, afaik no one here does it for any reasons and we have literal festivals and pujas dedicated to Ganesha

But then again I am a human with limited knowledge and i don't know everything

I personally think the tusk like designs are very cool. However, I also think it would be a bit of a No No for religious reasons. I also think it reminds me more of classical dance face makeup and stuff.

I also think if they meant to make it a Ganesha reference, then he should only have a tusk on one side, bc there's a huge deal about Ganesha being "ekdanta" (transl: one toothed) bc he has a well known myth of breaking off one of his tusks to write a mythologically and culturally significant epic.

There are also a lot of actual cultural face painting things in India that are way cooler than the Ganesha thing in my opinion. So while that theory is cool, I don't personally agree with it. I could be wrong, again, idk what the design intent was exactly.

No. 3:

Next thing: this is a very very small thing and i only have a sentence on it, but i really appreciate Pav's neckline in his suit.

The neckline here? That's the kind of cut that's most typical of kurtas. Especially more ceremonial, kingly, wedding sherwani, or generally festive attire; a regular kurti might have a v-neck or something, but this curved collar? Very Indian and classy in a way I can't fully explain.

No. 4:

This next thing I'm going to go completely ballistic about, everyone hold on to your seats!!!

THE FUCKING MOTIF ON HIS UPPER ARMS. IT'S EVEN ON THE MEHENDI-ISH PATTERN ON HIS WRISTS AND HANDS. THE SPIDER SHAPE TOO. I AM NOT NORMAL OKAY

LISTEN.

LISTEN TO ME

TBIS IS CONFIRMATION THAT KRISHNA PAVITR IS CANON

HE IS SO SO KRISHNA CODED

Idc if I'm delusional, i DARE you to look at that blue design and tell me it doesn't look like a peacock feather

THE SHAPE OF HIS FUCKING SPIDER IS OH SO SUBTLY CURVED TO BE PEACOCK FEATHER SHAPED TOO

There is no human way for me to be normal about this i need a minute

Okay for context:

Krishna is a very important and beloved god in Hinduism. I cannot overstate the love I have for him, even being mostly non religious myself.

There is SO MUCH about him he is such a big deal and thanks to him being made a character in popular Indian cartoons and so many animated and live action movies being made about him, he is literally woven in the fabric of our collective consciousness and love for our culture

He's a mischevious and fun and chaotic and lowkey antiestablishment kid deity. He contains the literal universe. He has a deep abiding love for his people and his family and loved ones and the world he serves. He is a dancer, flute player, sweetheart, lover of life. He has a thousand wives, yet one Radha who he never married but is his literal immortalized soulmate. He guides heroes to duty. He is full of wisdom but also silly hijinks. He is so so beloved.

The peacock feather is his symbol! You could see the peacock feather anywhere and it's immediately OH KRISHNA! He wears a peacock feather, famously. In all his iterations, from childhood to adulthood. Peacock feather is his emblem.

Krishna is depicted through the peacock feather. It's become a very common motif in arts like mehendi and various textile arts to have peacock feather and peacock patterns; I'm sure that existed before Krishna too in several cultural circles but he is definitely a huge part of it since. There is a chikankari motif that is very recognisable that's reminiscent of peacock feather but I'm mostly unsourced on that, going off my own interpretation

But there's a definite link between peacock feather=Krishna=inextricable part of culture and art.

At least in North India. He's less of a big deal the further south you go. Still very widespread and overall loved tho.

So anyway seeing that peacock feather type motif on Pav?? Mixed with his Spiderman identity??? Is so amazing to me.

Krishna coded Pavitr real ✨

(Also yeah people have already pointed out that Pav's hand designs are based on mehendi so I don't need to go into that askjasjkas)

No. 5:

Also. Huge fan of his arm cuffs. It's just another Indian warrior thing; often in ye olde times and in mythology, the cuff would be a lot simpler, often just a thread with an amulet to grant you protection. But it steadily became fancier, and now it can be decorative or a valour thing or both

Very often just decorative now actually. Often seen in weddings and ceremonies too

No. 6:

Okay about his bangles now:

I absolutely LOVE THEM I love them so much I am so obsessed with them actually!!

So. First of all

I remember there being a confusion in like earlier fics especially on whether they were bracelets or damrus or bangles or what

And i have Thoughts

So first of all

They are not damrus/damarus.

Damarus are a musical instrument made of wood and with two beaded ropes to beat on the small drum-like ends. They're also symbols of lord Shiva who uses a damaru.

They are very different from what Pav wears and i remember my fucking whiplash when earlier fics called his bangles damarus. I think i choked on my maggi.

I don't mean to be rude to the writers ofc, they were doing the best with what they knew. But it's just very jarring to me to hear that

I think an explanation I heard was that Pav's web shooter design was inspired by damarus? Which yeah I get that and I actually wanna talk about it bc I very much see it. But they are very much NOT damarus themselves

So

First of all i personally have never seen nor heard of the kind of bangles Pav wears which appear to have a strip of cloth in the middle? While being gold cuffs on both ends? Which is new and interesting actually and opens up aspects abt his character that i find really interesting

Bc first of all: that implies he made them himself from stuff he already had inspired by things he saw. It seems, at least to me, like he used bangles/kadas he had to make the shooters he uses, which are designed the way they are for easier slinging and his cool tricks with them which would be harder if they were solid gold, and also the shape when he does the cool yoyo-y trick and hits The Spot with it and everything is very damaru shape. Which is also pretty cool if it's meant as a reference to Shiva and his damaru (he's a very fierce god with the damaru) or a reference to the street performers who use it nowadays.

Either way - and also additionally the fact that PAV LITERALLY DOUBLED HIS BANGLES AS WEB SHOOTERS WHICH IS SO CREATIVE AND SMART - and developed his own whole signature skillset with it?? And made his own bangle/shooters as I said before????

My boy is PEAK jugaadu

He is the embodiment of jugaad

Never has anything been so true to the Indian spirit than jugaad

Okay so for context, the jugaad that I keep talking about:

It basically means makeshifting and/or inventing stuff you need from the limited stuff you have. That's a very simple way of explaining it. Just imagine that, but up the silliness level x100.

For example, a guy jugaaded a showerhead by poking holes in a sprite bottle and putting a hose in it and routing it to the tap.

Jugaad can be both very smart, and very funny and silly

And it usually involves combining useless stuff/trash/just stuff you had lying around to make smth that you didn't wanna waste money buying, and often ends up having more functions than the stuff it was meant to replace. This but it's also very crackheaded. Like idk how to explain. It's basically makeshifting, but it's just developed into such an Indian Spirit Thing™ that we have a word for it

So i love that Pavitr's bangles do all of that. He is a true Indian boy to his core!

No. 7:

Okay I have thoughts on his dhoti too!

So.

Blue.

I know why they used blue for his dhoti, what with the spiderman colours, the need to complement his bright red with smth softer, and everything. I get it and i love it so so much. What I'm about to say next is not a complaint against this at all, it's very good design imo

But.

Everytime I look at him in his fucking blue dhoti

I just remember all the times my grandmother has apprehended me and made me go and change for trying to wear blue or black at a Puja

Bc they're apparently unholy colours ;_;

Basically yellow, saffron, red are the appropriate holy colours. Now that i think about it, I've never seen a god or mythological king depicted in a blue dhoti or generally blue clothing either - farthest they go from the three i described is pink or green

I never really thought about it until my Nani pointed it out. I'm still not sure if anyone except her even knew or cared about it.

But that is the memory that bonks me on the head every time i Perceive the blue dhoti

Bro upgraded from funeral colour (white, which is his dhoti in the comics and absolutely infuriates me on a visceral level) to unholy colour askaskjjska it's so funny to me

Purple was still a luxurious colour, but generally warmer and/or lighter colours are The Done Thing. It's an old notion and the cultural connotations are now very diluted by Western influence and also none of us Caring about a lot of it anymore (not necessarily a good or bad thing particularly)

Indigo also has. Loaded connotations.

Because Britain did a Colonialism and a lot of Indians suffered for it. It's a whole history lesson.

I would rather not get into the whole details but basically Indigo (the plant from which the dye was made) was a valuable commodity and Britishers essentially forced farmers to grow only that, ignoring their need to grow food or sustenance or care for the land in general, especially in the Bihar-UP regions. There were eventually a lot of revolts where many people, esp farmers, died.

Basically a double whammy of starvation and death as a direct result of colonialism. It was a major part, historically, that sparked rage for the freedom movement

If you wanna learn more abt it you can search up Champaran farmer revolts!

Also about the drape of Pav's dhoti:

I've seen a couple of memes and reels abt how Pav, in an emergency, suiting up for Spiderman duty, would be taking an hour to drape the dhoti and stuff

And those are hilarious and i love them

But also

That's literally not even a proper dhoti -

So the thing pav wears is basically more of dhoti-pants with a cummerbund.

So okay I need to explain this better hold on

A dhoti is basically a sheet of fabric that is draped around the waist and down. The elaborateness of the cloth can vary vastly from intricately patterned silk and brocade, to plain white cotton with a thin gold border optional

The drape of the dhoti varies even more depending on region, occasion, occupation, and status. You can have everything from the casual simple towel like drape and tuck that some men wear to relax on a daily basis, to an intricate thing with many folds and pleats and tucks and the middle part that hangs (I forget the name for that) that would actually legitimately take hours and is often adorned with jewellery . To a thing that's flexible to move in and also looks very pretty and is genderneutral some dance forms call for.

Basically. The drape varies vastly. And it's all one cloth, maybe a second one for a separate cummerbund sometimes, I'm not that well versed abt dhotis tbh.

But the thing Pav wears?? It doesn't seem to me to be folded the way I've ever seen any dhoti

The way it's folded and shaped is not how those style of dhotis work. There would be a lot more pleats and folds, for one. But it's not shaped the way to match the less-folded dhotis either.

Now, I'm no dhoti expert, but that leads me to believe that's not a full on dhoti. What it's more likely to be is dhoti-pants

Dhoti pants are this fusion thing. It's in the name. I haven't seen it much but I know/think/am pretty sure its a thing, bc most Indian guys now don't know how to drape a dhoti either and it's a good solution. Worn like a pant, looks like a dhoti. Simple. A cummerbund for the middle drape, and you're set!

Also side note: the fold with the distinct two legs and the middle drape that Pav has? Is the most commonly depicted warrior and king drape,, at least in North and Middle India, I'm not as well versed about the South but I think it's the case there too. The gods are depicted in that drape too

I have fewer comments on his leg design, I like that it's reminiscent of mehendi even on his feet bc yeah that's also done on the feet, although rarer now and also a bridal thing

No. 7:

He has gold cuffs on his ankles that I really like!

Okay so here's the interesting thing:

I could be wrong, but

But that kind of thick ankle cuff is not actually an Indian thing?? At least not in the warrior hero context that a lot of his design seems based on. At least not of that shape and width.

What we do have though are very simple metal ankle cuffs put on (I think) one ankle of young kids for protection,, again a tradition I'm not very familiar with, it's more localised

The other thing we have that's more interesting tho:

We have payals and ghungroos!!! Which opens up so many exciting prospects to me because those are both dancer things

Like. The payals are ornamental. They are beauty things as well. All women would wear them, their elaborateness and style depending on status, money, and region ofc

They double as dance and performance things too ofc

But ghungroos are specifically dance things

Very very sacred and honoured to the dancers, too. Quite personal

(These are all little bells on the ghungroos btw!! Hundreds of them. They ring out when the dancers dance)

This is what Pav's ankle cuffs most remind me of. It's not the same thing ofc, and idk if the designers were even thinking of this.

But it would be really cool if he was inspired by ghungroos to have cuffs of similar thickness and placement on his legs. Perhaps even familiar to him hmmm?

This is me theorizing HARD to support my headcanon, but combined with Pav's classical dance-n-martial-arts-y moves, i present to you: Pav learning classical dance when he was younger (a thing that a lot of Indian kids do and only a few seriously continue for their lives) is real.

I rest my case

Like yeah it's known at this point that Pav's moves are based a lot off the martial art of kalaripayattu. Which is SO AMAZING AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!! But I also think this would be a cool influence alongside that, bc it really feels visible too.

No. 8:

The fact that Pavitr is barefoot is so so important and dear to me!!!

In Indian culture, you're supposed to take your shoes off as a mark of respect, before entering the ranabhoomi (literal transl: battleground, but not in an actual war with swords and shit ofc)

Being barefoot for pujas and in temples and on sacred ground in general is very important

As is being barefoot when you're walking onto a kabaddi or wrestling ground,, basically any fight that's supposed to be important and/or with honour. It's a respect thing for the opponent and for the earth you fight on.

There are a lot of contexts where being barefoot is important or a given

There's the prayer ground bc it's sacred and holy and you can't be dragging your dirty ass shoes there it's super disrespectful. You gotta enter with clean feet specifically, dirty feet are considered disrespectful too. that's also why there wil often be feet washing areas outside of temples here

Then there's the ranabhoomi that I just said, which is more of respect for your opponent and the earth. Respect to the earth especially is very important in the combat forms and sports I know of at least

Then there's the basic respect and tbh the hygiene thing too, of always taking off your footwear before entering another persons house. That one is more flexible, sometimes you can take it off inside, but the done thing is to take them off outside generally. Especially if you're a guest who's not particularly close. You'd be considered really rude if you didn't take them off at all. But again that still varies by person,, the older generations are way stricter abt it

Then the bride thing,,, it's actually a whole small ritual. The bride and groom will enter the groom's house for the first time,, which is considered the bride's new home bc misogynistic tradition so yeah. But basically it's supposed to be an auspicious beginning to a new home and life. (Btw being barefoot during the wedding ceremony is also generally required)

Usually, at least in North Indian tradition, a small vessel of rice is kept at the threshold that the bride must tip over with her foot when entering. It's for prosperity. Then she steps directly into a plate of a red liquid I forget the word for, but it's basically a sindoor paste type of thing. Her first steps into the house must be taken leaving those red footprints behind. That's for auspicious beginning

So Pavitr being barefoot is so so cool from a cultural and a character building standpoint

He takes his job seriously, he does it with respect and honour!!! He seems so chill and happy go lucky, but he's deliberate and respectful abt it!! And he's super connected to his culture too, bc you could just Not and no one would care, but it's so important that he does!!

So yeah!

That has been my full ramble askjasjkas. If you made it this far, have a cookie! Thank you and I hope this was interesting <33

[artist-faur]

@northern-passage's Raffle for Palestine is live, and I'm one of the artists! The fundraiser post here goes in more detail regarding the details of the raffle. Go to the post and donate now!

As for more details regarding my art, because, uh I haven't posted before lol: it's all going to be done traditional, in dip pen, ink washes, fineliners and pencils, in black and white. I am offering a half-body of a single character. The character can either from a piece of interactive fiction or something else - though I would personally prefer that that something else is a smaller, lesser known piece of media (game, story, etc,) an OC (D&D characters also fall under this!) or otherwise something that would not get art otherwise! I tend to be comfortable with historical clothing (research is my jam! Send me on as many rabbit holes as possible!). I am open to references you would like to send, as well as imitating specific items of clothing, jewelry, poses and so on. Backgrounds will be kept simple - nothing that interacts with the character - and elegant! Higher resolution versions of my works above and details under the cut!

Elizabethan rascal! Their clothing is inspired by a variety of Elizabethan portraits of nobles. I used fine liners and ink washes!

A tiefling character! This is a "line-art" style. I used a reference from @adorkastock (that I cannot find again for the life of me) for the pose! I used dip pen and ink wash for the background.

Victorian butch lady! This is a sketch with ink wash and I used a brush to ink.

Minoan lady! I really like Minoan art and its depiction of people and their clothes, and I really wanted to do a sketch inspired by that in my own style. Here, I used fineliners and ink washes.

[velting]

Blood Lock

CHAPTER 5

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⚠️WARING⚠️: THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME NOT SAFE CONENT! PLEASE READ WITH YOUR OWN CAUTION!! IF YOU DON'T ENJOY IT! THEN PLEASE SKIP IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED EVERYONE!

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The weekend arrived with a quiet hush over the campus. The corridors were emptier than usual, save for the occasional cluster of students enjoying their free time. [Name], however, couldn’t shake the events of the night before. Every time her mind wandered back to Yoichi’s kiss, her cheeks flared a deep crimson. She had spent half the morning pacing her dorm room, trying to make sense of her feelings.

"Why am I like this?" she muttered to herself, her hands tugging at the sleeves of her oversized cardigan. She shook her head as if trying to physically rid herself of the thoughts. "Focus, [Name]. You’ve got stuff to do."

With a determined nod, she decided to head to the library. Studying always helped clear her mind, and with exams looming, she had the perfect excuse to dive into research. The crisp autumn air nipped at her cheeks as she made her way across campus. Leaves crunched under her feet, their golden hues scattered across the pathways like nature’s own confetti.

The library was quiet when she entered, the faint scent of aged paper and ink enveloping her. She walked past rows of shelves, her fingers brushing against the spines of books as she searched for the ones she needed. Stopping by the history section, her gaze fell upon a particular title: “Vampires: Myths, Legends, and Truths.”

Her brow furrowed. “Vampires?” she murmured under her breath.

The book seemed almost out of place among the historical texts, yet its bold title called to her. She hesitated, glancing around the library. No one seemed to be paying her any attention, so she pulled the book from the shelf, the old leather cover cool against her fingertips.

Curiosity prickled at the edges of her mind as she searched for a secluded corner to read. She found an empty table tucked away near the back of the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves that created a cocoon of solitude. Sitting down, she opened the book, the pages crackling faintly as she flipped through the introduction.

The dim lighting above cast a warm glow on the aged pages as [Name] began to read. The text delved into the origins of vampire myths, citing historical events and folklore from different cultures. She skimmed through sections on ancient beliefs about blood-drinking spirits and their evolution into the modern vampire archetype.

“Immortality,” she read aloud in a hushed tone. “Enhanced senses, strength, and speed… but also vulnerability to sunlight, holy objects, and wooden stakes.”

She paused, tilting her head. “Garlic, though? That just sounds dumb.”

The book continued to describe vampires as both seductive and predatory, their charm often used to lure unsuspecting victims. [Name]’s lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes skimmed over the descriptions.

"Sounds like some people I know," she muttered dryly, thinking about certain individuals on campus.

But then, her heart skipped a beat. One passage described vampires' ability to compel or influence others, bending their will through eye contact or touch. Her mind flashed back to Rensuke—his piercing gaze, the way her body felt immobile under his touch.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous. He’s just—he’s not…”

Yet, the seed of doubt was planted. She continued reading, her fingers tracing the delicate script as she learned about vampire hierarchy, their weaknesses, and signs that someone might be one. Myths and truths were separated, yet the lines blurred in a way that left her unsettled.

Hours seemed to pass as [Name] lost herself in the book. The library’s quiet atmosphere felt heavier now, the stillness amplifying the creak of the floorboards and the occasional shuffle of other students in the distance. Her eyes darted over another passage.

“Symptoms of a vampire attack: fatigue, weakness, dizziness, puncture wounds…”

Her thighs twitched instinctively as her mind went to the still-visible mark. The memory of that night, the way her body had screamed in pain, sent a shiver down her spine.

“No,” she said more firmly, closing the book for a moment. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “It’s just a coincidence. Stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life.”

Yet, her mind betrayed her, piecing together fragments of moments and people.The Raichi incident, Rensuke’s strange behavior. Sae’s almost predatory aura. The cryptic warnings about Ruka and the way Ego seemed to watch everything unfold with an omniscient air.

“What if…” she began to think, but immediately stopped herself.

“No,” she said aloud, this time firmer. Her voice echoed faintly in the empty section of the library, startling her. She glanced around, heart pounding, before returning her gaze to the book.

Still, curiosity won out. She reopened the text, flipping to a section on detecting vampires among humans. As she read, her breath hitched.

“Red eyes during heightened emotions… an aversion to mirrors…” Her voice grew softer as she recited the words. “Cold skin… a hunger that never quite subsides…”

Her mind once again betrayed her, conjuring images of people she knew. Raichi’s sharp teeth, Rensuke’s smoldering red gaze. Ruka’s icy hands when he pulled her away. The way Michael and Lorenzo seemed to devour everything with their eyes, as if nothing could satisfy them.

[Name] slammed the book shut, the sound reverberating through the quiet library. She stood abruptly, clutching the book to her chest as she glanced around nervously.

“No way,” she muttered, her voice trembling. “This is ridiculous. They’re just people. Normal people.”

But even as she tried to convince herself, the uneasy feeling in her chest refused to subside. She placed the book back on the shelf, her hands shaking slightly, and quickly gathered her things. As she walked out of the library, the sensation of being watched prickled at the back of her neck.

[Name] didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to see if anyone—or anything—was there.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The streets of town buzzed with a lively weekend energy as [Name] wandered aimlessly, the chill autumn breeze biting at her cheeks. Her stomach growled, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts about vampires and unsettling campus drama. Spotting a cozy sandwich shop tucked between a bookstore and a boutique, she made her way inside, grateful for its warmth and inviting smell of freshly baked bread.

She approached the counter, scanning the chalkboard menu. "Grilled cheese with tomato soup, please," she said to the cashier, offering a small, polite smile. As she waited for her order, she found a quiet table near the window and settled in, pulling out her phone.

The warm golden light from the overhead bulbs glinted off her glasses as [Name] scrolled through Instagram. A series of funny cat videos managed to coax a few chuckles out of her, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. By the time her food arrived—a perfectly crisp sandwich paired with steaming tomato soup—she felt like she could almost push the events of the past week aside.

Almost.

She took a bite of the sandwich, savoring the buttery crunch and the gooey cheese. But as soon as she dipped it into the soup, a voice broke through her momentary peace.

“Well, if it isn’t [Name]!”

She froze mid-bite, slowly looking up to see Kuon Wataru standing by her table, his signature cocky smile plastered across his face. He waved casually, a sandwich in one hand and a drink in the other.

“Oh, uh… hey,” she said hesitantly, swallowing her food.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, already pulling out the chair across from her.

[Name] glanced around the shop, noticing the multiple empty tables he could’ve chosen. Her eyebrows furrowed. “There’s, uh, plenty of other spots,” she said carefully.

Kuon shrugged, setting his food down. “Yeah, but none of them have the pleasure of your company.”

She sighed. Something about his presence made her wary, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Fine,” she muttered, waving a hand toward the chair.

He sat down with a satisfied grin, leaning back in his seat. “Thanks. So, how are you holding up?”

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “Holding up?”

“Y’know,” Kuon said, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “After that whole assembly thing. Heard it got… intense.”

Her grip on her spoon tightened, and she avoided his gaze, staring into her soup. “It’s fine,” she said curtly.

“Fine?” Kuon echoed, his tone laced with disbelief. “Come on, [Name], I saw the way Ruka dragged you out of there. And then you—” He mimicked the motion of her slap, his hand snapping to his cheek dramatically. “That was wild. I mean, I didn’t think you had it in you to—”

“Kuon.” Her voice cut through his chatter like a knife. She finally looked up at him, her expression sharp. “Can we not talk about that?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, a smirk still playing on his lips. “Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off.”

[Name] sighed, running a hand through her hair. She took another bite of her sandwich, hoping the act of eating would put an end to the conversation.

But Kuon wasn’t done. “Still,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table, “you gotta admit, Ruka can be… a bit much, right?”

Her eyes flicked to his, narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Kuon said, his tone light but pointed. “The guy’s always hovering around you. Like, does he even give you space to breathe? He acts more like your shadow than your cousin.”

[Name]’s jaw tightened. She set her sandwich down, her appetite suddenly waning. “He’s just protective,” she muttered, though even as she said it, the words felt hollow.

“Protective?” Kuon snorted. “More like controlling. Seriously, [Name], the way he acts—dragging you away, trying to micromanage your life—it’s not normal.”

She clenched her fists on the table, the frustration that had been simmering inside her finally bubbling to the surface. “You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, her voice low but fierce.

Kuon blinked, surprised by her outburst.

[Name] took a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. “I’ve told him a million times to back off, but he doesn’t listen. He just keeps… smothering me. Like he thinks I can’t take care of myself.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Kuon watched her for a moment, his smirk fading into something softer. “Hey,” he said, his tone unusually gentle. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She didn’t respond, staring down at her hands as they twisted in her lap.

“For what it’s worth,” Kuon continued, “I think you handled yourself pretty well at the assembly. Ruka needed to be put in his place, and you did that. You’ve got guts, [Name]. More than most people around here.”

She glanced up at him, her expression conflicted. “It didn’t feel like guts,” she admitted quietly. “It felt like… like I lost control.”

“Maybe,” Kuon said with a shrug. “But sometimes losing control is the only way to make people listen.”

His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, [Name] felt a flicker of understanding pass between them. She picked up her spoon, swirling it in her soup as she mulled over his statement.

“Thanks,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kuon leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “Anytime. Just remember—if you ever need someone to vent to, I’m your guy.”

[Name] gave him a small, reluctant smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Kuon finished his meal and excused himself, she watched him go, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Despite his brash personality, he had given her something to think about. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to deal with everything on her own.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The sandwich shop was beginning to clear out as [Name] finished the last sip of her tomato soup. She felt a small sense of relief after venting to Kuon, even if the conversation left her with mixed feelings. Packing her things, she made her way to the counter to pay, bowing slightly to the cashier.

“Thank you. That was delicious,” she said sincerely, handing over a few bills.

The cashier smiled. “Come back anytime!”

As [Name] adjusted her bag on her shoulder and headed toward the exit, she instinctively reached into her pocket to check her phone. Her heart sank when her hand came up empty. She stopped in her tracks, patting her other pocket. Nothing.

Frowning, she opened her bag and rummaged through it carefully, checking every compartment. Maybe she had misplaced it. She scanned the table where she’d been sitting, her eyes narrowing as she retraced her steps.

‘Okay, no big deal,’ she told herself. It’s here somewhere.

But the longer she searched, the faster her composure crumbled. She ducked under her table, checking the floor. Nothing. She went back to her chair, lifting it to see if her phone had slipped underneath. Still nothing.

“Where is it?” she muttered, her voice growing more frantic.

Her heart raced as the worst-case scenarios flashed through her mind. What if someone stole it? What if she dropped it? What if it’s gone forever?

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ‘Stay rational, [Name]. Think.’

She thought back to the last time she’d seen it—when she was scrolling through Instagram while eating. Maybe she’d left it there. She went back to the table again, scanning it meticulously. Still, her phone was nowhere to be found.

Her stomach churned with dread. No way… Kuon wouldn’t, would he?

The idea made her blood boil. She hoped it was just a coincidence and not a cruel joke at her expense.

As she stepped outside, she spotted an old payphone across the street. She sprinted over, fumbling through her bag for spare change. Sliding the coins into the slot, she dialed her own number, the metallic beeps of the phone ringing loud in her ears.

“Please, please, please,” she whispered, holding her breath as it rang.

After a few moments, the line connected, and a voice came through.

“Well, well, look who’s calling,” came the familiar, smug tone of Kuon Wataru.

[Name]’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on the phone. “Kuon?!”

“That’s right. Lose something, [Name]?” His voice dripped with mockery.

Her blood ran cold. “Where’s my phone?” she demanded, her tone sharp.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kuon replied, his smirk audible through the receiver. “Look across the street.”

Her head snapped up, scanning the area frantically. Then she saw him. Standing casually across the road, leaning against a lamppost, was Kuon. In his hand, he held her phone, waving it teasingly in her direction with a smug grin plastered across his face.

[Name]’s jaw clenched as a wave of anger surged through her. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.

Kuon raised the phone to his ear, still watching her. “Relax, [Name]. I was just keeping it safe for you. You should really be more careful with your things.”

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the receiver. “You took it, didn’t you? While I was eating.”

“‘Took’ is such a strong word,” Kuon said, feigning innocence. “I prefer to call it… borrowing. You know, as a friend.”

“Friend?” [Name] hissed, her voice rising. “What kind of ‘friend’ steals someone’s phone and then taunts them about it?”

Kuon laughed, the sound infuriatingly casual. “Oh, come on. You’ve been so stressed out lately. I figured I’d give you a little distraction. You can’t take everything so seriously.”

“This isn’t funny, Kuon,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. “Give me my phone back. Now.”

Kuon sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. No need to get your glasses in a twist. Meet me over here, and I’ll give it back.”

She slammed the payphone down, her teeth grinding as she stormed across the street. The cold wind nipped at her face, but she barely noticed, her focus locked on Kuon’s smug expression.

When she reached him, she held out her hand, glaring at him. “Hand it over.”

Kuon twirled the phone in his hand, smirking. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Kuon,” she said through gritted teeth, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not in the mood for games. Give. It. Back.”

Finally, he relented, placing the phone in her hand with an exaggerated flourish. “There you go. Safe and sound.”

[Name] snatched it from him, checking to make sure everything was still intact. Her fingers itched to slap the smirk off his face, but she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

“Next time,” she said coldly, “keep your hands off my stuff.”

Kuon held up his hands in mock surrender. “Message received, loud and clear.”

She turned on her heel and began walking away, her grip tight on her phone.

“Hey, [Name],” he called after her.

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

“For what it’s worth, you’re cute when you’re angry.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she walked away, her heart pounding with frustration. Of all the nerve…

But as infuriating as Kuon was, she couldn’t shake the unsettling thought that there was more to his actions than just playful teasing. Something about the way he’d smiled at her—the glint in his eyes—made her feel like she was a pawn in a much bigger game.

The sound of bustling traffic filled the air as [Name] stopped at the curb, waiting for the light to change. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her phone gripped protectively in her hand. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves after the infuriating encounter with Kuon.

But then, she felt it—hot, shallow breaths against the back of her neck. Her entire body stiffened as a shiver raced down her spine.

"You smell… delicious," came Kuon’s low, almost predatory voice, the words dripping with sinister amusement.

[Name]’s eyes widened, her stomach churning as she instinctively stepped forward. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her throat. The moment she turned her head slightly and caught the faintest glimpse of his smirk, her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.

Without a word, she bolted across the street, weaving through honking cars and startled pedestrians. Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline surged through her veins. She didn’t dare look back, but she could feel Kuon’s presence like a shadow looming behind her.

“Where are you going, [Name]?” His voice carried through the air, playful yet dripping with menace. “You know you can’t outrun me.”

She didn’t stop, didn’t respond. Her only thought was to get away. Her trembling fingers reached for her phone, desperate to call someone—anyone—for help. But as she unlocked the screen, her heart sank.

No SIM card.

Her footsteps faltered, panic overtaking her. “No… no, no, no!” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. 'He must’ve taken it. He handed my phone back, but he took the damn SIM card!'

Her vision blurred as fear clouded her mind. She didn’t know where she was going anymore—just away. Away from Kuon. Away from the overwhelming dread building in her chest.

Her frantic running led her to an old, abandoned church. The worn, wooden doors creaked as she shoved them open, the sound echoing in the hollow space. Dust swirled in the air as the faint moonlight streamed through the cracked stained-glass windows, casting eerie, fragmented patterns on the floor.

[Name] stumbled inside, her breathing ragged. She looked around desperately, her mind racing for a plan. Hide? Block the door? Call for help?

Before she could decide, the doors creaked again behind her.

She froze, her blood turning to ice as Kuon stepped inside. His pace was slow, deliberate, almost mocking. His smirk grew wider as his dark eyes locked onto hers.

“Well, well,” Kuon drawled, his voice echoing in the empty space. “Running to a church for sanctuary? How… poetic.”

[Name] backed away, her steps uneven as she struggled to keep her composure. “Stay back,” she warned, though her voice betrayed her fear.

Kuon chuckled, his fangs glinting in the dim light as he stepped closer. “Oh, [Name]. You should’ve known by now… there’s nowhere you can run from me.”

Her back hit the cold, stone altar, and she flinched. The realization that she was trapped sank in, and her knees threatened to give out.

“Y-You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “A… vampire.”

Kuon tilted his head, his grin widening as he flashed his fangs fully. “Smart girl. I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the altar, trying to steady herself. “Why me? What do you want from me?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow and calculated, like a predator cornering its prey. “Why you?” he repeated, his tone turning almost reverent. “Do you have any idea how special you are? Your scent… your blood… it’s intoxicating. I’ve been watching you for a long time, [Name]. Dreaming of this moment.”

She shook her head, her breathing shallow as tears welled in her eyes. “You’re insane,” she whispered.

Kuon laughed darkly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Maybe. But you can’t deny it, can you? There’s something between us. You feel it too.”

Before she could respond, he lunged forward, slamming her body against the altar. The force knocked the air out of her lungs as she gasped, her hands instinctively trying to push him away.

“Let go of me!” she cried, her voice breaking.

But Kuon was unrelenting. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his strength overwhelming. His face was inches from hers now, his smirk replaced by an almost animalistic hunger.

“You can struggle all you want,” he said, his voice low and rough. “It just makes you even more irresistible.”

Tears spilled down [Name]’s cheeks as she shook her head. “Please… don’t.”

Her vulnerability only seemed to excite him more. His free hand trailed down her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin with a chilling intimacy.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been to resist you,” he murmured, his voice laced with desire. “But now… I don’t think I can anymore.”

As his lips brushed against her neck, [Name] squeezed her eyes shut, a sob escaping her lips. She prayed for something—anything—to save her.

With sharp Fangs, Kuon forcefully sank his fangs deep into [Name]’s neck, she gasps from the pain as Kuon begin to greedily gobble her blood, in distraught pain she screamed from the top of her lungs, the pain triggering to thrash but Kuon restricted her movements.

The sound of tasteful moans coming from the male while hearing the girl in distress made him drink more, “Please! Stop! AAAHHH!!” She began to beg him to quite, her vision becoming blurry from all the tears streaming down her face.

With last gulp, he finally retired back and wiped the blood off his lips while having a sadistic smirk on his lips.

The church was silent except for the sound of her ragged breathing and Kuon’s whispered promises of indulgence. But in the quiethe a sigle blodd drops on the floor.

[Name] remained motionless, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as Kuon’s sinister gaze bore down on her. The oppressive weight of his presence was suffocating. She desperately searched her surroundings for a way out but found none. Her mind raced, yet her body refused to move, frozen in terror.

Kuon smirked, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim, moonlit church. "You know," he said casually, his voice laced with mockery, "you make this too easy, [Name]. You're so predictable, so... human." He teased, taking his hands off her wrist, replacing it on her neck.

[Name] swallowed hard, her throat dry as sandpaper. "Why... why are you doing this?" she managed to stammer, her voice trembling.

"Because I can," Kuon replied simply, tilting his head as if the question amused him. "And because you're special. Don’t you realize how irresistible you are? That sweet blood of yours..." He trailed off, licking his lips as if savoring the blood.

[Name] clenched her fists, forcing herself to stand tall despite the quivering of her knees and the lack of iron in her body. "I’m not some... some thing for you to toy with!" she snapped, her voice rising with a mix of fear and defiance.

Kuon laughed softly, a low, unsettling sound that reverberated in the hollow space. "Oh, [Name]. You’re so much more than that. You're a puzzle, a prize... something worth possessing.” He emphasized the last word, his tone dripping with obsession.

The intensity in his gaze caused her to take a groan in pain, bumping her head onto the altar behind her. She felt the cold marble press against her spine, trapping her. Kuon advanced slowly, savoring her helplessness.

"You can’t run forever," he whispered, his voice almost tender. "Sooner or later, you’ll realize there’s no one else who can protect you. Not your friends, not your roommate, not even Ruka. They're all just distractions. But me? I’ll keep you safe... in my own way."

[Name]’s heart pounded in her chest as she tried to think of a way to stall him. "You're wrong," she said, her voice wavering but steady enough to convey conviction. "They care about me. They’re not like you."

Kuon’s expression darkened for a fleeting moment, a shadow passing over his handsome features before a twisted smirk returned, contorting his face into something almost monstrous. “You think you know them so well,” he muttered, his voice dripping with condescension. “But you’ll see. They’re just as selfish as I am—just as hungry for you.” 

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin, sending a shiver down [Name]’s spine. His lips brushed near her ear, and she could feel the weight of his words wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud. “I’m just the only one honest enough to admit it.”

[Name] flinched at his words, the cold steel of his twisted logic digging into her psyche like a dagger. Each syllable echoed in her mind, casting shadows over her thoughts and causing her resolve to falter. She struggled to maintain her composure, but the unsettling truth of his statement gnawed at her, chipping away at her defenses.

Kuon’s hand reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, yet it churned a storm of fear within her. The contrast between his softness and the darkness in his eyes was unnerving, as if he were a predator toying with his prey. 

With a strange mix of tenderness and menace, Kuon slowly knelt down before her, his presence looming as he pried her legs apart. The movement was deliberate, almost reverent, as he took hold of one of her thighs. [Name]’s breath hitched in her throat as she felt the heat radiating from him, a palpable intensity that made her skin crawl. Her body shivered involuntarily, a reaction to the mingled sensations of fear and a strange, helpless vulnerability.

Not a moment longer, Kuon sank his fangs into her thigh, the sharpness of his teeth piercing her flesh with a sudden, excruciating pain. 

A scream erupted from [Name]'s lips, raw and desperate, echoing through the stillness of the night. “Please, stop! Get away from me!” she begged, her voice trembling as she writhed in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, swallowed by the darkness that enveloped them. Kuon was lost in his primal instinct, feasting on her blood with a fervor that sent shockwaves of terror coursing through her. Each gulp he took was a reminder of her helplessness, a stark contrast to the life that was ebbing away from her.

As he savored the rich flavor of her blood, his red eyes glinted with amusement and an obsessive hunger, reflecting a twisted joy that sent chills down her spine. The more he consumed, the more he seemed to revel in the power he wielded over her, as if her suffering was the very essence of his existence. 

[Name] could feel herself slipping away, the darkness creeping in around the edges of her vision, but Kuon remained, a haunting figure of twisted desire and insatiable hunger, consuming both her blood and her very spirit.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors of the church creaked open, the sound reverberating like a thunderclap. Both Kuon and [Name] froze, his head snapping toward the entrance. A dark silhouette stood in the doorway, illuminated by the pale moonlight.

"Step away from her," a low, cold voice commanded, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Kuon’s smirk faded, replaced by a scowl of irritation. "Oh, great. Another hero," he muttered, turning to face the intruder.

[Name]’s breath hitched as she recognized the figure. It was Barou, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. His expression was unreadable, but the simmering anger beneath the surface was palpable.

"You're interrupting something private," Kuon sneered, his cocky demeanor returning as he crossed his arms. "Why don’t you leave before you get hurt, selfish king?"

Barou stepped forward, his movements deliberate and controlled. "Let her go," he repeated, his tone colder than ice.

Kuon tilted his head, clearly enjoying the challenge. "And if I don’t?" he asked, baring his fangs slightly in a subtle threat.

Barou’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the air in the room seemed to crackle with tension. "Then you’ll regret it," he said simply.

[Name] watched the standoff with bated breath, her fear momentarily eclipsed by the hope that someone had finally come to her rescue. But the question remained—would Barou be able to protect her from Kuon’s monstrous strength, or was she simply trading one danger for another?

Kuon chuckled, the sound low and mocking, as he stepped away from [Name] with deliberate slowness. "Regret it, huh? Big words, Barou. But let’s see if you can back them up." His fangs glinted as he smirked, his crimson eyes narrowing with amusement and challenge.

[Name] clung to the altar behind her, her knees trembling as she glanced between the two. Barou’s presence was commanding, his aura exuding raw power and authority. But even with him here, the tension between the two vampires was suffocating, their power pressing against her like a physical force.

Barou's expression was sharp, his red eyes boring into Kuon with a mixture of disdain and restrained fury. "Step away from her," he repeated, his voice calm but laced with a deadly edge. His towering figure loomed over the space, a silent promise of retribution.

Kuon sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up as if conceding. "Fine, fine," he drawled, taking a step back. "I’ll let her go… for now." His gaze flicked to [Name], his eyes softening into something disturbingly tender. "But remember, [Name], I’ll always be watching. You can’t hide from me."

Her stomach churned at his words, and she clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid her voice would betray her fear.

As Kuon turned to leave, he paused, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder. "Oh, and Barou? You might have won this little round, but don’t think for a second that this is over. I’m not done with her yet." With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

[Name] exhaled shakily, her legs finally giving out as she slumped against the altar. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she forced them back, refusing to let the fear consume her.

Barou approached her slowly, his heavy steps reverberating through the hollow church. His sharp eyes softened slightly as he crouched down to her level, his large frame casting a shadow over her. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice gruff but quieter now.

She shook her head, though her body still trembled and exhausted. " I’m… I’m okay," she stammered, avoiding his gaze. "I didn’t think anyone… would come."

Barou’s jaw tightened at her words, his golden eyes flickering with a dangerous light. "You think I’d let that scum get away with this?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. His tone was low, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable. "Ruka wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t step in. And neither would I."

Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of her cousin. Of course, this was Ruka’s doing—his way of keeping her “protected.” But Barou's tone held something more than obligation; there was an undercurrent of personal resolve.

"He’s not going to stop, is he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Barou exhaled sharply, his frown deepening. "No," he admitted bluntly. "But that doesn’t mean you have to deal with him on your own." He glanced away, his expression tightening. "You’re under my watch now. No one’s touching you—not Kuon, not anyone."

[Name] blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Despite his gruff demeanor, his words brought a small measure of comfort, a flicker of hope in the midst of her fear.

Barou stood and extended his hand to her. His large palm hovered in front of her, steady and resolute. "Come on," he said. "Let’s get you out of here."

Hesitating only for a moment, [Name] took his hand. His grip was firm, grounding her as he helped her to her feet. Standing beside him, she felt dwarfed by his presence, but for the first time that night, she didn’t feel entirely vulnerable.

As they walked out of the church, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over the ruins, [Name] couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Barou. His silence was heavy, his focus locked straight ahead, but his protective stance gave her a strange sense of security.

A question nagged at her, though. "Barou," she murmured hesitantly, "how did you know where I was?"

He didn’t look at her, his gaze still fixed forward. "I didn’t," he replied gruffly. "Ruka’s been keeping tabs on you, and I’ve been keeping tabs on him. When I heard Kuon was lurking nearby, it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest."

Her lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. She looked down, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her skirt. "Thank you," she said softly. "I mean it. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come."

Barou stopped walking, turning to look at her with an unreadable expression. "You’re safe now," he said simply. "That’s all that matters."

As they continued down the quiet streets, Barou’s towering presence beside her, [Name] felt the weight of the night’s events begin to lift—if only slightly. But deep down, she knew this was only the beginning.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the quiet cooking club room, casting a soft glow on the polished counters and neatly arranged utensils. [Name] stood at the sink, humming quietly to herself as she washed the last of the dishes. The aroma of freshly made takoyaki lingered in the air—a comforting blend of savory batter, octopus, and a hint of seaweed.

The club room was hers today, a rare escape from the chaos of her usual life. Sundays meant no official club activities, which gave her free rein to cook to her heart's content. Today, takoyaki had been on her mind, and she'd spent the last hour perfecting the crisp yet tender spheres, carefully plating them with drizzle patterns of sauce and mayonnaise.

The peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open behind her. [Name] paused, her hands still submerged in soapy water, and glanced over her shoulder.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Eita Otoya. He leaned against the doorframe with a casual confidence, his sharp, fox-like features accentuated by his ever-present smirk. His white hair  with green bang was slightly tousled, giving him a roguish sly charm that he undoubtedly used to his advantage.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Eita drawled as he stepped inside, his voice smooth and playful. "I didn’t think anyone would be in today, but I guess I’ve been blessed with some unexpected company."

[Name] blinked in surprise before offering a polite smile. "Oh, Otoya. I didn’t expect anyone else either. Just… cleaning up after cooking."

Eita’s smirk widened as he approached, his hands slipping casually into his pockets. "Cooking, huh? Let me guess��you made something amazing, didn’t you? It smells too good for it to be anything else."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she returned her attention to the dishes. "I made takoyaki. Nothing fancy."

"Takoyaki?" Eita repeated, feigning astonishment. "Come on, [Name], don’t sell yourself short. Knowing you, it’s probably the best takoyaki anyone’s ever tasted."

[Name]’s cheeks warmed slightly at the compliment, though she quickly brushed it off. "I wouldn’t go that far. I was just experimenting with the recipe."

Eita leaned against the counter beside her, his sharp eyes watching her intently as she worked. "Experimenting or not, I’d bet money it’s better than anything I could make." He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a flirtatious murmur. "You know, you could always teach me. I wouldn’t mind a private cooking lesson from someone as talented—and cute—as you."

[Name] glanced at him, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "You? Cooking? I can’t imagine you having the patience for it."

"Hey, I’m a quick learner," Eita said with a playful grin, placing a hand over his heart as though wounded by her doubt. "Especially if it means spending more time with you."

Her smile widened slightly, though she rolled her eyes at his attempt to charm her. "You’re impossible."

Eita chuckled, clearly pleased that he’d managed to draw a reaction out of her. His attention shifted to the counter, where the plate of takoyaki sat neatly arranged. His eyes lit up as he reached out and plucked one of the golden-brown spheres from the plate.

"These look amazing," he said, holding up the takoyaki as if appraising it. Then, with a sudden idea, he turned back to [Name], the smirk returning to his face. "Say ‘ah.’"

She blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. "What?"

"You heard me," Eita said, stepping closer and holding the takoyaki out toward her. "Come on, let me feed you. It’s only fair—I mean, you made these, right? You deserve the first bite."

[Name] hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly at the forwardness of his actions. "I… I can eat it myself, you know," she said, attempting to deflect his playful gesture.

"But where’s the fun in that?" he teased, leaning in just enough to make the distance between them feel charged. His tone was light, but his gaze was sharp, studying her reaction with an almost predatory curiosity. "Come on, [Name]. Just humor me a little."

She sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to give up so easily. Reluctantly, she leaned forward and took a small bite of the takoyaki he held out. The savory flavors melted on her tongue, and she had to admit it was pretty good.

"See?" Eita said triumphantly, his grin widening as he pulled the rest of the takoyaki back and popped it into his own mouth. "Delicious. Just like I thought. You really are talented, [Name]."

She shook her head, half amused and half exasperated by his antics. "You’re ridiculous, Otoya. But thanks, I guess."

He leaned against the counter, his expression softening slightly as he watched her. "You know, I don’t get why you don’t join us more often. You’re way more fun to hang out with than half the people I know."

[Name] raised an eyebrow at him, her skepticism clear. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"It’s the truth," he said, his tone surprisingly earnest. But then, true to form, his smirk returned. "Besides, it’s not every day I get to see someone so cute getting all flustered."

[Name] rolled her eyes again, though she couldn’t completely hide the small smile that tugged at her lips. For all his shameless flirting, Eita’s company wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

The two fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, with Eita occasionally sneaking more takoyaki from the plate and [Name] half-heartedly scolding him for it. Though she wasn’t completely swayed by his charm, there was something oddly relaxing about his presence—like a distraction from the chaos that had defined her life recently.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting warm hues across the club room, [Name] found herself grateful for the moment of normalcy, however fleeting it might be.

The comfortable rhythm of their conversation continued as Eita leaned lazily against the counter, his fox-like grin never wavering. [Name], still skeptical of his intentions but amused by his antics, picked up another takoyaki from the plate with her chopsticks.

“Alright, your turn,” Eita said, pointing at her with a playful gleam in his eyes.

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “My turn for what?”

“To feed me,” he replied smoothly, crossing his arms as though the idea was entirely natural. “I fed you, so it’s only fair you return the favor, don’t you think?”

[Name] stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Eita’s grin widened, his tone carrying a mock innocence. “Come on, [Name]. Don’t leave me hanging. It’s only fair.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “You’re unbelievable. Fine, but don’t make this weird.”

Eita’s smirk deepened as she begrudgingly raised the takoyaki to his mouth. He leaned forward slightly, biting into it with a satisfied hum. “Delicious. But you know what makes it even better?”

“What?” she asked, already regretting indulging him.

“The fact that you’re the one feeding me,” he said, his voice dipping into a teasing lilt.

[Name] rolled her eyes, setting the chopsticks back on the counter. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Before she could grab another piece of takoyaki, Eita suddenly reached for [Name]’s hand with a speed that left her breathless. His movements were smooth and deliberate, an elegant predator in a world that had suddenly narrowed down to just the two of them. He pulled her toward him, and the sudden shift caught her off guard, causing her to stumble slightly. Her free hand instinctively landed on his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his shirt, and their faces drew alarmingly close.

“O-Otoya!” she stammered, her voice a mix of surprise and annoyance, her heart racing in a wild rhythm against her ribcage. “What are you—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice a low murmur that seemed to envelop her like a shroud. His fingers gently tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes, sharp and sly, held a glint of something deeper—something calculating that sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could fully comprehend his intentions, Eita leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her skin. 

The world around them faded into a background hum as he closed the distance, and she could feel the tension crackling in the air. 

“You’ve been so tempting, [Name],” he whispered, his voice laced with a mix of desire and something darker. “I’ve waited too long for this moment.”

Panic surged within her as she realized what was about to happen. “No! Otoya, don’t!” she pleaded, trying to pull away, but his grip on her wrist tightened, anchoring her in place. 

The playful facade he wore melted away, revealing a hunger that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

In an instant, Eita sank his teeth into her flesh, the sharpness of his fangs piercing her skin with a sudden, brutal force. A gasp escaped her lips, quickly morphing into a cry of agony as pain shot through her throat. 

The sensation was a jarring mix of searing pain and an overwhelming rush of vulnerability as he began to drink her blood, his lips curling around the wound as he savored the taste.

[Name] struggled against him, her instincts screaming for her to escape. She kicked her legs, trying to push him away, but he was relentless, his strength far surpassing her own.

 “Let me go!” she cried, the desperation in her voice rising as she felt the warmth of her life ebbing away. But her pleas were met with silence, swallowed by the intensity of his feeding.

Eita drank deeply, his eyes closing in pure ecstasy, a low growl emanating from his throat as he reveled in the warmth of her blood. Each gulp sent waves of weakness coursing through her body, and she felt herself slipping. 

The world around her blurred, the vibrant colors dimming as darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.

“[Name],” he murmured between drinks, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You taste even better than I imagined. I want you” 

With each word, the weight of his obsession pressed down on her, suffocating and intoxicating all at once. She felt a mix of despair and confusion, her body betraying her as she fought to stay conscious. 

But with every heartbeat, Eita’s hold on her tightened, and she could feel the pull of oblivion beckoning her closer.

For a moment, [Name] froze, her breath catching as his expression softened into something almost tender. Yet, the sly edge to his grin remained. “You know, [Name],” he began, his voice low and smooth, “you really don’t realize how beautiful you are, do you?”

She blinked, heat rising to her cheeks as she quickly tried to push him away. “Otoya, stop it. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking,” he said, his grip firm but not forceful. “I’m being completely serious here.”

“Otoya—”

He cut her off again, his voice turning playful. “You have no idea, do you? How much competition I have?”

“Competition?” [Name] repeated, her brow furrowing. “What are you even talking about?”

Eita chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. “You’re seriously clueless, aren’t you? Do you know how many guys are after you, [Name]? The New Generation 11? Every single one of them.”

[Name]’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait—what?”

“Not just them,” he continued, his tone becoming more intense, as if he were listing off names for dramatic effect. “The U-20 team, too. Even Hiori, your childhood best friend, and Karasu, your precious senpai. They’re all in love with you. You’re like… this impossible prize everyone’s fighting for.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. The weight of his statement left her stunned, her mind racing to process the absurdity of it all.

Eita took advantage of her momentary silence, leaning in even closer until their faces were mere inches apart. His voice softened into a whisper, dripping with false sweetness. “But none of them can appreciate you like I do, [Name]. None of them can make you feel like I can.”

Before she could respond, Eita closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a sudden, forceful kiss that sent shockwaves through her entire being. The world around them faded into a blur as the warmth of his mouth enveloped hers, igniting a fire that pooled low in her stomach.

[Name]’s eyes widened in shock, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest, trying to push him away. But Eita held her firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers with practiced ease. There was a raw intensity in his touch, a confidence that was both thrilling and terrifying. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers, each exhale a tantalizing invitation that overwhelmed her senses.

Panic surged through her as she struggled against him, her mind racing with a mixture of indignation and bewilderment. “Otoya, stop—” she managed to gasp, but he was relentless, his mouth claiming hers with an urgency that left her breathless. 

The kiss was a whirlwind of sensations; the softness of his lips contrasted sharply with the firm way he held her, as if he were marking his territory. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the undeniable chemistry crackling in the air around them. It was intoxicating, yet it sent a jolt of rebellion coursing through her veins. How dare he?

When he finally pulled back, his smirk returned, though his gaze was more intense now, a spark of possessiveness lighting his sharp eyes. “See? No one else can get this close to you, can they?” His voice was low, dripping with a mix of triumph and challenge that made her pulse race.

[Name]'s hand shot up, wiping her lips as she glared at him, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and something she refused to acknowledge. “You’re unbelievable! How dare you—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained, infuriating her further. “It was just a kiss. Nothing to get so worked up about.” 

She stepped back, desperately trying to put some much-needed distance between them as she fought to steady her racing heart. “You’re out of your mind, Otoya!”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a casual shrug, his grin unwavering. “But at least I’m honest about how I feel. Can any of the others say the same?” 

[Name] didn’t respond, her mind too clouded with frustration and confusion to come up with a retort. The air around them felt charged, electric with a tension that lingered like a storm ready to break. It was a heady mix of anger, attraction, and the undeniable connection that seemed to draw them together despite her better judgment.

Eita finally stepped back, giving her space as he casually grabbed another piece of takoyaki from the plate. “Thanks for the snack, [Name]. You’ve got talent, both in cooking and… other areas.” He winked, popping the takoyaki into his mouth with a playful flourish, the casualness of his demeanor contrasting sharply with the intensity of their earlier exchange.

Before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder, his smirk softening into something more genuine—though no less mischievous. “Think about what I said, okay?” His words lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the kiss and the implications behind it, and that terrible blood sucking. How. Dare. He.

And with that, he was gone, leaving [Name] standing in the club room, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion, saddened, and an undeniable anger that she couldn’t quite name. The taste of him still lingered on her lips, a reminder of the moment that had shaken her to her core, and as she leaned against the wall, her heart raced with the realization that things could never be the same again.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The cooking club room felt stifling now. The air seemed heavier, and [Name]’s thoughts swirled like a storm. Eita’s words replayed in her head, his confident smirk etched in her memory.

"You have no idea… how much competition I have. The New Gen 11… U-20… even Hiori and Karasu…"

She huffed, shaking her head as she walked down the hallway, her footsteps echoing in the quiet building. “He’s just trying to get under my skin,” she muttered to herself, gripping her bag tightly. “There’s no way. He can’t be serious.”

But despite her attempts to dismiss his claims, a seed of doubt lingered. Could it be true? Did so many people really feel that way about her? And if they did, why hadn’t she noticed?

“I need some air,” she said aloud, her voice firm as if to push her doubts away. The rooftop had always been her refuge—a place where she could think clearly without interruptions.

Reaching the staircase, [Name] ascended quickly, her mind still clouded. She pushed open the heavy metal door to the rooftop, the fresh breeze instantly greeting her. The scent of autumn leaves lingered in the air, and the city skyline stretched out before her.

The rooftop was quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of wind. [Name] walked over to the edge, placing her hands on the cool metal railing as she let out a sigh.

“Ridiculous,” she said under her breath. “As if half the world is obsessed with me. Otoya’s full of himself.” She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

Just as she closed her eyes, trying to center her thoughts, a sound broke through the silence.

It was deep, smooth, and hauntingly beautiful—a hum that resonated through the air like the call of an ethereal being.

[Name] froze, her breath catching. The melody carried a strange allure, tugging at something deep within her. It was unlike anything she’d heard before, yet it felt oddly familiar.

“Is someone… singing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the haunting tune. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the empty rooftop.

No one was there.

The melody continued, weaving through the air like silk, growing more mesmerizing with every passing second. It felt almost otherworldly, as if it didn’t belong to this realm.

[Name] stepped away from the railing, her heart pounding. The hum seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, enveloping her in its mysterious embrace.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly.

The sound stopped.

A sudden silence fell over the rooftop, so absolute it made the air feel heavier. [Name]’s pulse quickened as she glanced around, her eyes darting to every corner of the space.

She walked slowly, her shoes clicking softly against the concrete as she searched for the source. “Hello?” she called again, her voice echoing faintly. “Is someone here?”

Nothing.

Her brow furrowed. She could’ve sworn someone had been there—someone just out of sight. The sound had been so clear, so close, yet there wasn’t a single soul in sight.

“Am I imagining things?” she muttered to herself, her voice shaky. “It felt so real…”

Her eyes landed on a shadow near the far corner of the rooftop. It was fleeting, barely perceptible, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She took a step closer, but when she reached the spot, there was nothing there.

“Great. Now I’m seeing things,” she said, trying to steady her breathing.

Still, the hum lingered in her mind, its haunting beauty etched into her memory. It wasn’t something she could simply dismiss. It felt like a call—like whoever, or whatever, had been there wanted her attention.

But why?

Shaking her head, [Name] stepped back toward the railing, gripping it tightly as she tried to make sense of the situation. The wind picked up, ruffling her hair as she stared out at the horizon.

“I need to stop overthinking,” she told herself firmly. “It’s probably just the wind or… or something stupid like that.”

And yet, deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

As she turned to leave the rooftop, her steps hesitant, she cast one last glance over her shoulder. The space was empty, the stillness almost unsettling.

But as she reached the door, she thought she heard it again—a faint, lingering note, as if the melody was bidding her farewell.

[Name] paused, her hand on the doorknob. For a moment, she considered staying, waiting to see if the mysterious presence would reveal itself.

Instead, she shook her head and opened the door. “I’m just imagining things,” she whispered, stepping into the stairwell. “That’s all it is.”

As the door closed behind her, the rooftop fell silent once more, the haunting hum fading into the wind as if it had never been there.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The library was quiet, save for the faint rustle of pages being turned and the occasional soft hum of the air conditioning. [Name] walked through the rows of bookshelves, her bag slung over her shoulder and a determined look on her face. Tomorrow was the start of exams, and despite her confidence in most subjects, history loomed over her like a shadow. It wasn’t her strongest suit, and the thought of it threatened to ruin her plans for a carefree fall break.

She found an empty desk near the back of the library, away from prying eyes, and set down her things. The desk quickly filled with books—massive, intimidating tomes about wars, treaties, and ancient civilizations. “Alright,” she muttered to herself, cracking open the first book. “Let’s do this.”

For the first hour, her focus was sharp. She jotted down notes, underlined important details, and tested herself on key dates. But by the second hour, the words on the pages started to blur. [Name] yawned, covering her mouth as her eyes watered slightly. “No, no, no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Stay awake. You have to get through this.”

She stretched her arms over her head, twisting her neck to the side to loosen the stiffness setting into her shoulders. The peaceful silence of the library made it harder to stay alert, and she found herself stifling yet another yawn.

Just as she rubbed her eyes and tried to refocus, a shadow fell across her desk.

“You look like you’re drowning in history,” a familiar voice teased.

[Name] blinked up, her vision adjusting to see Reo standing there, a charming smile playing on his lips. His violet eyes gleamed with curiosity as he looked at the mountain of books surrounding her. He was dressed casually, his blazer slung over one shoulder, but he still had an air of effortless elegance about him.

“Reo?” she asked, her voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I was passing by and saw you through the window,” he explained, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down. “Thought I’d check in. You looked pretty intense.” He glanced at her stack of books and raised an eyebrow. “History, huh? That bad?”

[Name] let out a small laugh, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s just say it’s not my favorite. I’m fine, though—just tired.”

Reo rested his chin on his hand, studying her carefully. “You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

She waved him off, offering a tired smile. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I just need to power through a bit longer.”

Reo smirked, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed. “You’ve got a strong will, I’ll give you that. I don’t think I’d survive if I had to study all of… this.” He gestured vaguely at the pile of books.

“Believe me, I don’t want to,” [Name] admitted, tapping her pen against her notebook. “But I need to pass this exam. I’m not letting history ruin my fall break.”

Reo chuckled, his laughter light and melodic. “Fair enough. So, after exams, any big plans for your precious fall break?”

She shook her head, a small shrug accompanying the motion. “Not really. Just want to relax and maybe catch up on some shows. Nothing too exciting.”

Reo tilted his head, his violet eyes narrowing slightly as a sly smile spread across his face. “Well, in that case, how about you hang out with me and Nagi? We’ve got tickets to Central Point Tower, but he decided to ditch at the last minute, so I’ve got an extra spot. It’d be fun.”

[Name] blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invitation. “Central Point Tower? Isn’t that the fancy new observation deck downtown?”

“Exactly,” Reo said, leaning forward slightly. “It’s got everything—an amazing view, great food, and even a VR game section. It’d be a shame to let the extra ticket go to waste.”

She hesitated, glancing at her notes before meeting his expectant gaze. Despite her initial reluctance, she found herself nodding. “Alright, I’ll go. Sounds like fun.”

Reo’s smile widened, his satisfaction evident. “Good choice. You won’t regret it.” He stood up, smoothing out his blazer. “Now, I’ll let you get back to your history dump of knowledge. Good luck, [Name].”

“Thanks,” she said, waving as he walked away. “See you after exams.”

He gave her a casual salute before disappearing around the corner, leaving her alone once more.

[Name] exhaled, a faint smile lingering on her lips. Reo’s visit had been unexpected, but it had lifted her spirits. She turned back to her books, feeling a bit more energized as she resumed her studies.

But even as she tried to focus on the intricacies of historical events, her mind occasionally wandered to his invitation. ‘Central Point Tower, huh? It might be a nice change of pace after all the stress of exams.’

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The classroom was filled with the quiet rustling of papers and the faint hum of the overhead lights. [Name] sat at her desk, her brows furrowed in concentration as she worked through her Mathematics exam. The equations sprawled across the pages before her, each one demanding her full attention. She carefully wrote out her work, glancing occasionally at her calculator to ensure every number was precise. Her pen moved swiftly but methodically, the sound of it scratching against the paper blending into the background noise of other students doing the same.

[Name]’s mind was laser-focused, her heart steady. This was one subject she had prepared extensively for, having spent the morning drilling formulas and problem-solving techniques into her brain. Still, she double-checked every answer, unwilling to leave anything to chance.

The large digital clock on the board buzzed, signaling the end of the exam period. Mr. Lavinho’s authoritative voice cut through the silence. “Alright, time’s up. Pencils down, everyone.”

A collective groan erupted across the room as students reluctantly set their pencils aside.

“Finally,” Kira Ryosuke muttered, leaning back in his chair with a relieved sigh. He ran a hand through his sandy hair, glancing at [Name]. “That was brutal. At least the first part is over.”

[Name] exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing as she placed her pencil on the desk. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “But it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Studying this morning helped a lot.”

Across the room, Gagamaru Gin had his head down on his desk, his hair tied messily around him. He groaned loudly, muffled against the surface of his table. “Math is not my strong suite” He spoke monotonous way.

“Math isn’t supposed to be your friend,” [Name] teased gently, packing up her calculator and notebook. “It’s just supposed to make sense.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t,” Gagamaru retorted, lifting his head slightly to eye at her, though his expression was more pitiful than intimidating.

Mr. Lavinho began walking between the rows of desks, collecting exams from each student. His cheerful yet commanding presence lightened the tense atmosphere. “Good work today, everyone. I know Mathematics can be a tough one, but I’m proud of the effort I saw. Keep it up for the rest of the week, alright?”

His words elicited a mix of grumbles and murmured thanks from the class. [Name] felt a small flicker of relief at his encouragement.

Kira stretched his arms over his head, letting out a groan of his own. “One down, seven to go,” he said, his voice filled with exhaustion but also a hint of optimism. “I just hope the Business exam isn’t as bad as this.”

[Name] glanced at her schedule in her planner, confirming the next exam. Business wasn’t her favorite subject, but she felt confident enough in her preparation. “At least it’s multiple choice,” she offered, trying to sound reassuring.

“That’s what they always say,” Gagamaru interjected, slumping further into his seat. “But then you get hit with all those ‘choose the best answer’ questions. It’s a trap, I’m telling you.”

[Name] chuckled softly at his theatrics, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her notebook. “You’ll survive. You always do.”

“Barely,” he mumbled, finally sitting up straight. His eyes glanced toward the clock. “When’s the next exam?”

Kira checked his phone, his brow furrowing slightly. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes. Enough time to stretch or grab some water.”

[Name] stood, smoothing out her skirt and gathering her materials. “I’m going to head to the vending machine. I need something to keep me going.”

“Grab me a water?” Gagamaru called after her.

[Name] turned back briefly, nodding with a small smile. “Sure thing.”

As she made her way out of the classroom, she overheard snippets of conversations from her classmates. Some were venting about tricky questions, others were already moving on to discussing the next test. The tension in the air was palpable, but [Name] allowed herself a moment to enjoy the temporary reprieve.

The vending machine stood in the corner of the hallway, and [Name] carefully inserted a few coins, punching the buttons for a bottle of green tea and a sports drink for Gagamaru. As the drinks clunked into the tray below, she exhaled softly.

“Just one down,” she muttered to herself, gripping the bottles tightly. “I can handle this.”

With renewed determination, she returned to the classroom, ready to tackle Economical Biology head-on.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The atmosphere in the classroom was tense as the students tackled their Economical Biology exams. [Name] sat at her desk, her pen moving steadily as she filled in the blanks with precise answers. This section relied heavily on memory and understanding of key definitions, and she thanked her early-morning study sessions for her confidence. Each question seemed like a test of focus and clarity, but [Name] remained composed, jotting down her explanations for the biology problems in detailed, neat handwriting.

To her left, Aryu Jyubei wrote with a flourish, his pen gliding across the paper as though the exam was a work of art. Every motion of his wrist exuded elegance, and even while answering scientific questions, he maintained an air of sophistication.

To her right, however, Isagi Yoichi was visibly struggling. His brows were knit in frustration as he stared at the fill-in-the-blank section. His pen hovered uncertainly above the page before retreating to scratch his head, and he muttered to himself as he tried to recall the definitions that seemed just out of reach.

Ms. Bogdanova loomed at the front of the room, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students like a hawk searching for prey. The stern look in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t tolerating any distractions or wandering eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the teacher's desk, her presence alone enough to keep everyone glued to their own papers.

[Name] finished her exam a few minutes before the timer beeped but didn’t immediately set her pen down. Instead, she meticulously went through each question, double-checking her answers and making sure she hadn’t overlooked anything. Satisfied that everything was accounted for, she leaned back slightly, allowing herself a small moment of relief.

As the timer on the board beeped, Ms. Bogdanova’s voice cut through the silence. “Time is up. Pens down.”

There was a collective exhale as students reluctantly put their pens aside. Aryu leaned back in his chair, stretching with a graceful motion that somehow made even exhaustion look stylish. “Ah, the exam is over,” he said with a content sigh. “Not bad. My answers were as perfect as my hair.”

[Name] chuckled softly, appreciating his flair even in a stressful situation. She packed up her materials while glancing at Yoichi, who looked far less relieved. He groaned, slumping forward onto his desk with a defeated sigh.

“I didn’t even finish,” Yoichi mumbled, staring despondently at his partially blank exam paper as Ms. Bogdanova began collecting them. “Why do they have to make these so long?”

[Name] offered him a kind smile. “Hey, it’s not the end of the world. You can always finish it on Friday during the make-up session.”

Yoichi looked up at her, his expression still glum but slightly less so. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, [Name].”

Aryu, ever the picture of poise, chimed in. “Indeed, Isagii-kun. A temporary stumble does not define your elegance. You’ll recover splendidly, I’m sure.”

Yoichi blinked at him, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but eventually nodded. “Uh… thanks, Aryu.”

With the exams collected and the second part of the day officially over, the students began gathering their belongings. The energy in the room shifted from tense to relaxed as the realization that they were free for the day set in.

[Name] slung her bag over her shoulder, stretching her arms to shake off the stiffness of sitting for so long. “Two down, six to go,” she said lightly, her tone filled with cautious optimism.

Yoichi managed a small smile. “Let’s just hope tomorrow’s subjects are kinder.”

“Psychology and History,” [Name] mused, already mentally preparing for another long night of reviewing. “It could be worse.”

Aryu adjusted his scarf with a flourish, smiling as if exams were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “No matter the challenge, always face it with style. Now, I’m off to reward myself with a protein smoothie. Farewell!”

As Aryu glided out of the room, Yoichi shook his head, amused despite himself. “That guy really doesn’t change, does he?”

[Name] laughed softly, waving goodbye to both boys as she made her way out of the classroom. The day wasn’t over, but for now, she allowed herself a moment of peace, knowing she had done her best.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The soft hum of the vending machines filled the quiet campus gift shop as [Name] stood in front of the soda display, deciding between a lemon-lime soda or an iced tea. Her throat felt parched after the day’s exams, and she needed something refreshing. Finally settling on the soda, she grabbed one and turned to see Nijiro by her side, cradling a bottle of peach-flavored water in his hand.

“Want me to grab one for you too?” [Name] asked, smiling.

Nijiro blinked, caught off guard by her offer, before sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, uh… you don’t have to.”

“Come on, it’s no big deal,” she said with a grin, heading to the counter. Nijiro followed closely, offering a quiet thanks as [Name] paid for both their drinks.

As they walked out of the shop, cracking open their bottles, Nijiro took a long sip before letting out a sigh. “AP English today? It was brutal. Some of those essay prompts made my head spin.”

[Name] tilted her head sympathetically. “It was tough, but you’ve got a good grasp of analysis, Nanase. I’m sure you did great.”

He chuckled nervously, glancing at her. “I don’t know about that, but thanks. I mean, compared to you, I probably bombed it. You make everything look so easy.”

[Name] laughed, shaking her head. “Trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks. And tomorrow’s going to be rough. History is… not my strong suit.”

Nijiro frowned, sensing the worry in her voice. He took a moment to think before smiling softly. “You’ve got this, [Name]. Seriously. You’re one of the hardest-working people I know. History doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

She glanced at him, his genuine encouragement warming her nerves slightly. “Thanks, Nanase. I needed that.”

As they continued down the pathway, sipping their drinks, the two chatted lightly about the exams and their plans for the upcoming fall break. The day had taken on a calm, almost peaceful rhythm—until they were interrupted.

A tall figure blocked their path, and both [Name] and Nijiro stopped in their tracks. Standing before them, with an unnerving grin spread across his face, was Don Lorenzo.

“Ah, it's the little rabbit,” Lorenzo drawled, his deep voice filled with mockery and amusement. His golden grills linted in the sunlight as he tilted his head, observing her like a predator studying its prey.

[Name] felt an icy chill crawl down her spine as her grip tightened around her soda bottle. Nijiro, sensing her unease, shifted slightly closer to her, his brows furrowing.

Lorenzo’s grin widened as he took a step forward, his eyes flickering between the two of them. “Finally, we meet. I’ve been dying to see the girl who’s got everyone so... enchanted.”

“What do you want, Lorenzo?” [Name] asked, her voice steady despite the unease bubbling inside her.

Lorenzo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, casually taking a strand of her long black hair between his fingers. “You know, you’re quite the enigma, [Name]. This hair, this scent—” he leaned in slightly, inhaling dramatically, “—no wonder everyone’s losing their minds over you.”

[Name] froze, her discomfort visible in the way she stiffened. Nijiro, standing beside her, stepped in almost instinctively, moving to shield her from Lorenzo.

“Hey, back off,” Nijiro said firmly, his usually soft demeanor replaced with surprising determination. “She’s clearly uncomfortable.”

Lorenzo’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, more sinister. He dropped [Name]’s hair and turned his full attention to Nijiro, mockingly clapping his hands. “Oh, look at you. Playing the hero. How noble.”

Nijiro didn’t back down, keeping himself between [Name] and Lorenzo. “I’m just looking out for my friend.”

“Friend, huh?” Lorenzo sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “How cute. But let’s not pretend you’re anything more than a little sidekick, Little Hero. Do you really think you can keep her safe from people like me? Or Ruka? Or the rest of us?”

[Name] had heard enough. Her patience snapped as she grabbed Nijiro’s hand and started walking away, pulling him with her. “Come on, Nanase. Let’s go.”

Lorenzo didn’t stop them, but his laughter followed them down the path, dark and unsettling. “Run along, little rabbit. But don’t think this is over, [Name]. You and I, we’ll have our time.”

[Name] didn’t look back, her hand tightening around Nijiro’s as they hurried away. Her heart pounded in her chest, not just from Lorenzo’s words but from the way he had looked at her—as if she were something to be owned, to be broken.

Nijiro, sensing her distress, spoke gently. “Are you okay? I should’ve done more back there…”

“You did enough,” [Name] said, her voice soft but resolute. She let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “Let’s just… let’s just stay away from him. From all of them.”

Nijiro nodded, his own unease clear in the way he glanced over his shoulder. Lorenzo might’ve let them go for now, but there was no mistaking the predatory hunger in his gaze. It wasn’t over.

Nanase Nijiro called after [Name], his pace quickening to catch up. “Wait, [Name]! Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, but concern laced his tone. He could see the tension in her shoulders as she walked ahead, gripping her soda tightly in one hand.

When she didn’t respond, he slowed his approach, not wanting to overwhelm her. But as he got closer, he noticed her trembling. “[Name]…” He stepped in front of her path, only to see the tears silently streaking down her cheeks.

“[Name]…” he said again, softer this time, his voice breaking with sympathy. He instinctively placed a hand on her shoulder, only for her to shake her head and look away, unable to meet his gaze.

Nijiro’s heart ached. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to say anything right now.” Without hesitation, he pulled her into a comforting hug, wrapping his arms around her as if shielding her from the world. [Name] stiffened at first but then sank into his embrace, her quiet sobs muffled against his chest.

“I hate it…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I hate how people treat me. Like I’m… like I’m some kind of prize to be won.”

Nijiro clenched his fists behind her, his jaw tightening. “You’re not a prize,” he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. He pulled back slightly, enough to look down at her tear-streaked face. “You’re [Name]. You’re kind, hardworking, and strong—stronger than anyone gives you credit for.”

She sniffled, looking up at him through her glasses. “I don’t feel strong.”

“You are,” Nijiro said with a small smile, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears with his thumb. “You’re standing tall despite all of this, aren’t you? That’s strength. And if it ever gets too heavy to carry alone, I’ll be here to help you.”

His words seemed to calm her, and she nodded, her grip on her drink loosening. Nijiro’s heart swelled with relief, though a pang of guilt followed. He’d always admired her—loved her, even—but he knew he couldn’t compete with the others vying for her attention. Still, seeing her like this, all he wanted was to protect her.

“Come on,” he said, forcing a lightness into his tone. “Let’s get out of here. How about we go to the garden? You could use some peace after… all that.”

[Name] hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice still shaky but steadier now.

Nijiro smiled and held out his hand. She took it, her fingers wrapping around him hesitantly. Together, they walked away, leaving the tension of the moment behind.

But unbeknownst to them, Alexis Ness stood in the shadows, his phone raised, recording every second of their interaction. His lips curled into a smirk as he stopped the video. “Interesting…” he muttered, tucking his phone away. His mind was already racing with the possibilities of how to use this newfound piece of information.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

[Name] Sanzuku sat at her desk in the Psychology exam room, her pencil gliding smoothly across the paper as she worked through the written responses. The test covered everything from identifying psychological terms and parts of the brain to analyzing how humans react to various scenarios. Each question sparked confidence in her; she’d spent the last few weeks ensuring she understood the material.

She paused for a moment, tapping her pencil against her chin as she reviewed one of her answers about the limbic system’s role in emotional regulation. Satisfied with her reasoning, she moved on to the next question.

To her right, she could hear the faint muttering of Tokimitsu. He was hunched over his paper, his pencil scribbling furiously while he mumbled under his breath.

“C-come on, Aoishi. You studied for this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hand trembled slightly as he worked through the problem, his nervous energy filling the air.

[Name] glanced at him, her expression softening. Poor guy, she thought. He’s so hard on himself.

On her left sat Itsuki, his typically calm demeanor strained by the exhaustion etched into his face. The dark circles under his eyes made it clear he’d been up all night studying. Yet, his focus never wavered, his pencil moving methodically as he tackled each question with precision. [Name] admired his determination, though she wished he’d taken better care of himself.

Her eyes wandered further down the rows of desks, spotting Kenyu Yukimiya sitting near the back. He had already finished his exam and was now engrossed in a book, his posture relaxed as if this was just another day for him. His calm aura was almost enviable. Nearby, Reo Mikage was also done with his test, though he wasn’t relaxing. Instead, he was jotting something in a notebook, his brow furrowed in thought. [Name] could only imagine he was strategizing or planning something, as usual.

The timer on the board ticked down, and [Name] turned her attention back to her paper. She carefully rechecked each of her answers, scanning for any mistakes or questions she might’ve overlooked.

When she was sure everything was in order, she put her pencil down and let out a quiet sigh of relief. One exam down, and she felt good about it.

A few minutes later, the timer buzzed, signaling the end of the exam.

“All right, pencils down!” Mr. Luna announced, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Pass your exams forward, please.”

[Name] collected the papers from her row and handed them to the student in front of her. As the exams were gathered, she leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms overhead.

Tokimitsu let out a shaky sigh beside her, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Oh man… I think I messed up on, like, half of that,” he muttered anxiously.

“You probably did better than you think,” [Name] said encouragingly. “You always overthink things, Tokimitsu.”

“I-I guess… but still…” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unconvinced.

On her other side, Itsuki closed his exam booklet and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know if I’m relieved or just running on fumes,” he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

“You need sleep,” [Name] said pointedly. “You’re going to burn out if you keep this up.”

“I’ll sleep when the exams are over,” Itsuki replied with a faint smile.

[Name] shook her head but couldn’t help smiling back. “Just don’t collapse before then.”

As the students began to file out of the room, [Name] gathered her things and slung her bag over her shoulder. She cast one last glance at Yukimiya, who gave her a polite nod before returning to his book, and at Reo, who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

With her spirits lifted by the sense of accomplishment, she headed for the door, ready to tackle the next challenge that awaited her.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The library was a quiet sanctuary in the heart of the bustling academy, its towering shelves filled with books that whispered of history, science, and imagination. [Name] Sanzuku sat at one of the farthest tables, her red glasses perched delicately on her nose as she scanned the open textbook in front of her. Her notes were spread out in a chaotic, yet strangely organized manner, and her fingers occasionally tapped the side of her pen against the table as she tried to commit the endless stream of dates and events to memory.

Her heterochromatic eyes moved swiftly across the page, absorbing every word. The faint smell of aged paper and the hum of the library’s air conditioning created a calming backdrop, one that momentarily masked her rising anxiety over the upcoming history exam.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated, a low buzz breaking the tranquil silence. Startled, [Name] fumbled to grab it, nearly knocking over a stack of flashcards. She glanced at the screen: Incoming Call - Koji. Her heart softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Koji?” she whispered, answering the call and holding the phone close to her ear.

“Hey Sis!” came her little brother’s surprised voice, loud enough that she instinctively glanced around to make sure she wasn’t disturbing anyone.

“Koji, keep your voice down,” she admonished softly, though there was no real annoyance in her tone.

“Oops, sorry,” Koji said, quieter now but still carrying his usual demeanor. “What are you doing? Are you studying? You always study too much.”

[Name] chuckled lightly, adjusting her glasses. “Of course I’m studying. Exams are in session you know. I can’t slack off like you always do.”

“Hey! I don’t slack off,” he defended, though his sheepish laugh gave him away. “Anyway, you won’t believe what I found!”

Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Your poster!” he exclaimed proudly. “The one you said was lost forever. It was behind your desk this whole time. Guess I’m smarter than you, huh?”

[Name]’s mouth fell open in disbelief, and she nearly laughed out loud. “Koji! You were going through my stuff again, weren’t you?”

“Uh... maybe?” he admitted, not sounding the least bit guilty. “But it’s fine, right? I mean, you’re not even here to use it, and I was bored.”

Shaking her head, she leaned back in her chair, her hair brushing against her shoulders. “You’re incorrigible. But thanks for finding it, I guess.”

“See? You should thank me more often. I’m a great little brother.”

[Name] rolled her eyes, though a fond smile lingered on her lips. “You’re something, all right. So, what do you want, Koji? Besides rummaging through my room.”

His tone shifted slightly, becoming more earnest. “I just wanted to annoy you. It’s been kinda boring without you around, you know? The house is too quiet.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment but her heart ached a little at his words, and she softened her voice. “I miss you too, Koji. But I’ll be back soon. Fall break is only a few weeks away.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” she said firmly.

There was a pause, and then Koji spoke again, quieter this time. “Take care of yourself, okay? I know you’re always so busy, but don’t overdo it.”

“I will,” she assured him, her voice warm. “And you stay out of trouble, got it? No more snooping through my stuff.”

“No promises,” he replied cheekily, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bye, Koji. I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, [Name]-chan. Good luck with your exams”

The call ended, and [Name] stared at her phone for a moment, her smile lingering. She placed it back on the table, letting out a soft sigh. The brief conversation had been a welcome distraction, a reminder of home and the people who cared about her.

But the clock was ticking. The library’s clock chimed faintly, signaling that the break was nearly over. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her notes and dove back into her studies. The words on the page seemed to blur together, but she forced herself to focus, repeating dates and facts under her breath.

Just as the next bell rang, signaling the end of the break, [Name] felt a renewed determination. She closed her book with a quiet snap, her resolve stealing. ‘I’ll make you proud’, she thought, gathering her materials and preparing for her next class.

The library emptied quickly, but [Name] lingered for a moment longer, savoring the calm before stepping back into the whirlwind of academic life.

The school hallways were bustling with activity as students moved between classes, the sound of chatter and hurried footsteps echoing off the walls. [Name] Sanzuku walked briskly through the corridor, her mind racing as she mentally reviewed the key points for her upcoming history exam. The weight of her textbooks in one arm and her notepad in the other added to her sense of urgency, her hair  swaying with every step.

As she turned a corner, a small clattering noise reached her ears. She paused, looking down to see that her pencil had slipped from her grasp and rolled a few feet away. Muttering under her breath, she crouched to retrieve it.

Just as her fingers were about to close around the pencil, a shadow fell over her, and a hand—larger and calloused—picked it up first.

"Looking for this?" a deep, composed voice asked.

[Name] straightened, blinking as she took in the figure before her. The young man was strikingly unique, with light-colored hair styled into dreadlocks that framed his sharp, slanted eyes. His lean frame carried an air of quiet intensity, and his piercing gaze seemed to cut through her like a blade. His strong, masculine presence was undeniable, making him stand out even in a crowd.

The pencil rested in his hand as he held it out to her, his expression calm yet unreadable. "You should watch where you're going," he said in a low tone, his words clipped and deliberate. “The tide doesn’t wait for anyone.”

[Name] blinked in confusion, taken aback by his cryptic phrasing. Quickly recovering, she reached for the pencil. "Uh, thanks," she began, her tone polite but wary. However, his comment lingered in her mind, and she frowned slightly. "Wait a second. What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m clumsy?"

Kairu’s expression didn’t change, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if he found her reaction mildly amusing. "It’s not about clumsiness," he replied, his voice as calm as the lapping waves. "It’s about awareness. If you don’t keep an eye on the shore, you’ll get swept away."

[Name] narrowed her eyes, feeling a flicker of annoyance rise within her. "Okay, Mr. Surfing Philosopher," she said, crossing her arms, "maybe try handing back someone’s pencil without throwing in unsolicited life lessons next time."

For the first time, something flickered in Kairu’s sharp gaze, though it was impossible to tell whether it was amusement, irritation, or something else entirely. He inclined his head slightly, his voice still calm. "Fair enough. But you should hurry. The bell’s about to ring."

Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced at the clock on the wall. Her eyes widened in panic. "Oh no, you’re right! I’m going to be late!" she exclaimed, her frustration with him momentarily forgotten.

Clutching her pencil tightly, she darted past him, her hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. "Thanks again, I guess!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Kairu remained where he stood, watching her retreating figure with an unreadable expression. His hand lingered in the air for a moment before dropping to his side. His gaze followed her, lingering on the way her thair swayed with every frantic step.

"Like a fish swimming against the current," he murmured to himself, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips. His sharp, slanted eyes glinted with something deeper, something primal, as he turned on his heel and walked away. The noisy hallway seemed to fade into the background as his thoughts lingered on [Name].

Kairu Saramadara’s movements were slow and deliberate as he exited the hallway, a predator savoring the thrill of the chase.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The history classroom was unusually quiet, save for the faint scratch of pens on paper and the occasional sound of someone shifting in their seat. The overhead clock ticked ominously, its hands creeping closer to the hour. The tension in the room was palpable as the students focused intently on their exams, each immersed in their own battle with the questions before them.

[Name] sat in the middle of the classroom, her red glasses slipping slightly down her nose as she hunched over her paper. Her hair hung limply by her shoulders, almost as if mirroring the growing sense of defeat she felt. The first few questions had been manageable, but as she progressed, the historical dates and significant events blurred together in her mind. By the time she flipped to the middle of the exam, a bead of sweat had formed on her temple.

She glanced up at the whiteboard, where the countdown timer ticked mercilessly closer to zero. Fifteen minutes left. She swallowed hard and forced herself to focus. Come on, [Name], she thought, gripping her pen tightly. ‘You studied this. You know this! Just think!’

But the harder she tried to recall the answers, the more elusive they seemed. Questions about key historical treaties and landmark battles stared back at her mockingly, their blank answer spaces a stark reminder of her faltering memory. She tapped her pen against her paper nervously, earning a soft "shhh" from someone behind her.

“Ugh, sorry,” she whispered, her face heating up in embarrassment.

She glanced at the next question, her eyes scanning it rapidly: "What was the main objective of the Treaty of Kanagawa in 1854?"

Her mind blanked. Was it trade? Diplomacy? Something else entirely? She couldn't remember, and the weight of her indecision pressed down on her chest like a stone.

Five minutes left.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she flipped to the last page. The sight of the final questions almost made her cry in frustration. She scrawled out a hasty answer to one, then hesitated on the next, the seconds slipping away far too quickly.

“Time’s up!” Mr. Prince’s booming voice shattered the silence, and the sound of the timer hitting zero followed immediately. “Pens down, everyone. That’s it.”

A collective sigh of relief and frustration swept through the room. [Name] froze, staring at the unfinished final questions on her paper. She let out a defeated groan and slumped forward, resting her head against her desk.

“Why am I like this?” she muttered, her voice muffled against the wood. “I totally flopped that. There’s no way I passed…”

Mr. Prince strode around the classroom, his unkempt blond hair bouncing slightly as he collected the exams. “Thank you, mates,” he said with his usual mix of charisma and confidence. “Now remember, history doesn’t care for excuses. Either you know it, or you don’t. Let’s see how many of you make me proud this time.”

As he walked by, [Name] shoved her paper toward him without lifting her head.

Akira, seated beside her, leaned over slightly, his soft voice breaking the silence. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, [Name]. This is just one exam,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile. “You’ve still got time to prepare for the make-ups on Friday. Think of this as practice.”

[Name] turned her head slightly, her cheek still pressed against the desk. “I don’t know, Akira,” she sighed. “It feels like I’m drowning in a whirlpool of dates and names. I thought I studied enough, but clearly not.”

Reiji, sitting a row behind, twisted in his seat to face her. His eyes were calm and understanding as he rested his chin on his palm. “[Name], stop being so hard on yourself,” he said in his smooth, almost melodic tone. “You’re not alone in this. A lot of us struggled, and it’s not like you didn’t try. Effort matters, too.”

She lifted her head slightly, her glasses crooked on her nose. “You guys make it sound so easy,” she grumbled. “But this exam was brutal.”

Reiji chuckled softly. “Trust me, I didn’t breeze through it either. But that’s the thing about challenges—they’re meant to push you. You’ll do better next time.”

Akira nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And if you need help reviewing, you’ve got us. We’ll make sure you’re ready for Friday.”

[Name] sat up fully now, their words beginning to chip away at the dark cloud of self-doubt hanging over her. She adjusted her glasses and managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, guys,” she said softly. “I appreciate it. I just… don’t want to fail.”

“And you won’t,” Akira said firmly. “You’ve got the determination. Just take this as a lesson and move forward.”

Reiji’s expression softened further, his voice lowering to a gentler tone. “Besides, no one’s perfect, [Name]. Not even you. So stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

The warmth in their voices was enough to lift her spirits, even if just a little. She nodded, straightening her posture. “Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’ll try to focus on improving for the make-ups. But you guys better not let me slack off.”

Akira grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Reiji smirked. “Good. We’ll hold you to that.”

The tension in her chest eased as they shared a brief laugh. As the classroom emptied out for the next period, [Name] couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope reignite within her.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The hallway was bustling with students as they left the classroom, chattering about the exam or their plans for the next break. [Name] walked beside Akira, her mood still dampened by her performance on the midterm but uplifted slightly by his earlier words of encouragement. Reiji had split off to head to his club, leaving the two to share a more casual moment.

Akira, ever the observant friend, noticed the lingering worry on [Name]'s face. “You’re still thinking about that exam, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone lighthearted as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

[Name] sighed, adjusting her glasses. “It’s hard not to. That exam was brutal, Akira. And I know Mr. Prince is going to roast us when he hands them back.”

“Well, if you’re that worried, maybe I can distract you for a second.” He grinned and unlocked his phone with a quick swipe. “There’s someone I want you to meet—virtually, at least.”

[Name] blinked, tilting her head. “Someone I should meet? Who?”

“An old friend of mine. He’s transferring here in the spring term.” Akira tapped through his gallery and turned the phone toward her. On the screen was a picture of a tall, tan boy with blonde hair that had dark stripes and a toothy sharp grin that seemed larger than life. His pose was exaggerated, with both thumbs pointed at himself as if to say, “I’m the man.”

“This,” Akira declared with a playful flourish, “is Taiga Tsunzaki. Certified disaster of a human being.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Disaster, huh? He looks... spirited.”

“Spirited is a generous word. This guy couldn’t charm his way out of a wet paper bag. And believe me, he’s tried.” Akira scrolled to another picture—this one showing Taiga with a bouquet of flowers, looking utterly dejected as a girl in the background walked away. “Case in point.”

[Name] couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Oh no, poor guy. He really puts himself out there, doesn’t he?”

“Puts himself out there is an understatement,” Akira said, laughing. “Taiga has a long, illustrious history of crash-and-burn moments. You’d think he’d stop after the fifth—or fiftieth—rejection, but nope. The guy’s got a heart made of titanium.”

“Sounds like someone who doesn’t give up easily,” [Name] said, though she couldn’t help but giggle again at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But his flirting is so bad it’s almost an art form. Like, one time, he tried to impress a girl by juggling oranges in the cafeteria. He only made it through two tosses before they all hit the floor. He still called it a win, though.”

[Name] burst out laughing, earning a few curious glances from passing students. She quickly covered her mouth, her cheeks flushing. “You’re kidding!”

“Dead serious,” Akira said with a smirk. “And just when you think it can’t get worse…” He swiped to another photo, this one showing Taiga mid-bite, his face smeared with marinara sauce as he aggressively attacked a plate of spaghetti. The sheer intensity of the image was enough to send [Name] into another fit of laughter.

“What—what is he doing?” she managed between giggles, clutching her stomach.

“Survival of the fittest,” Akira said with mock seriousness. “When it’s you versus the spaghetti, you gotta show no mercy.”

[Name] shook her head, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I can’t. This guy is unreal. Are you sure you’re not just showing me memes you found online?”

Akira grinned. “Nope. This is 100% authentic Taiga. He’s like a walking sitcom. You’ll love him when you meet him.”

“Well, he’s already making a strong first impression,” she said, handing the phone back to Akira. “I’ll be sure to brace myself for his... unique energy.”

Akira chuckled, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “He’s a handful, but he’s got a good heart. And hey, maybe he’ll be just the distraction you need when spring rolls around.”

“Maybe,” [Name] said, her tone lighter now. “But for now, I think I’ll stick with surviving today.”

“Fair enough,” Akira said with a nod. “But just you wait. Taiga’s coming, and life as you know it will never be the same.”

[Name] rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the small smile that lingered on her face. Despite the stress of the day, moments like these made it all feel a little more manageable.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated [Name]'s dorm room as she sat cross-legged on her bed, a history textbook open in front of her. Notes were scattered around her in organized chaos, and her glasses had slid slightly down her nose as she focused on the lines of text. The silence of the room was punctuated only by the faint rustling of pages and the occasional scribble of her pen.

Her phone vibrated, breaking her concentration. She leaned over, picked it up, and saw a message from Ikki Niko:

Ikki > "Can we meet at the campus gates? I need help with the English exam on Thursday."

[Name] blinked at the screen before smiling. Finally, a break. She quickly typed back:

[Name] > "Sure, I could use some fresh air! Be there in 10."

Slipping her phone into her pocket, she hopped off the bed and stretched. "Studying can wait," she muttered, pulling a sweater over her head and swapping her lounge shorts for jeans. As she slipped on her sneakers, Hitomi, her roommate, glanced up from her own desk.

"Heading out?" Hitomi asked, twirling a pen between her fingers.

"Yeah," [Name] replied. "Ikki asked me to help him with the English exam. Meeting him at the gates."

Hitomi tilted her head, her expression turning slightly concerned. "You know it’s going to rain soon, right? You should take an umbrella."

[Name] froze mid-step. "Ah, crap," she muttered. "I left my umbrella at Ruka's place last time."

Hitomi sighed, already standing up to grab her own umbrella. "Here, take mine. I’m not going anywhere tonight."

[Name] took the umbrella with a grateful smile. "You’re a lifesaver, Hitomi. I owe you one."

Hitomi smirked. "You always do. Now go, before it starts pouring."

[Name] chuckled as she left the room, umbrella in hand. The air outside was crisp and cool, the sky a deep gray hinting at the storm to come. She hurried to the campus gates, where Ikki was waiting.

Ikki stood near the lamppost, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, but even so, he kept glancing around nervously. When he saw [Name] approaching, he straightened, his posture stiff with apprehension.

"Hey, sorry for the wait," [Name] greeted him with an easy smile. She noticed how he fidgeted, his gaze darting everywhere except her face.

"N-No, it’s fine," Ikki stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh, I just... needed some help with the English exam."

[Name] tilted her head, sensing his discomfort. "Of course. But first," she said, glancing up at the ominous clouds, "let’s grab something warm. There’s a café nearby, and I could really use a coffee."

Ikki hesitated for a moment, his shoulders tensing as if considering retreat. But then he gave a small nod. "O-Okay."

The walk to the café was quiet, save for the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. [Name] tried to strike up a conversation to ease the tension. "So, English, huh? Not your strong suit?"

Ikki scratched the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on the ground. "Not really. I can... understand it okay, but writing essays is a nightmare."

[Name] chuckled. "Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ll have you acing it in no time."

Ikki glanced at her briefly, his cheeks tinged pink. "Thanks... for agreeing to help. I don’t usually... ask people for stuff."

[Name] smiled warmly. "No problem. That’s what friends are for, right?"

Ikki’s steps faltered for a second, his heart skipping at her casual use of the word "friend." He ducked his head, his bangs obscuring his face as they entered the café.

Inside, the warm aroma of coffee and baked goods greeted them. The cozy atmosphere, with its soft lighting and wooden furniture, seemed to relax Ikki slightly. They approached the counter, and [Name] quickly ordered a cappuccino for herself and a hot chocolate for Ikki, teasingly insisting that he needed something sweet to keep his brain fueled.

As they sat down, Ikki’s nerves began to show again. He fiddled with his cup, his fingers tapping against the ceramic. [Name] noticed and decided to lighten the mood.

"So, Ikki," she began with a mischievous grin, "is this your first time asking a girl for help? Or are you secretly some kind of smooth operator?"

Ikki nearly choked on his hot chocolate. "W-What? No! I’m not—" He broke off, his face burning as he stumbled over his words.

[Name] laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Relax, I’m just messing with you." She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "But seriously, you don’t have to be so tense. We’ll go over the material, and you’ll be fine."

Ikki finally managed a small smile, his nervous energy slowly fading under [Name]’s easygoing presence. "Thanks," he said softly.

The two began discussing the exam, [Name] breaking down the material into simple explanations while Ikki listened intently, occasionally jotting down notes. As the storm outside began to drizzle against the café windows, Ikki found himself grateful—not just for the help but for the unexpected warmth of [Name]’s company.

The café’s cozy ambiance was suddenly disrupted by the jarring click of boots on the wooden floor. [Name] and Ikki, engrossed in their study session, barely registered the figure approaching their table until a smooth, taunting voice broke through their focus.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Himizu rawled, his split tongue flicking out briefly as he smirked down at them. His sharp, serpentine features were framed by his hair, and his eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. He was dressed in a sleek black jacket and ripped jeans, a casual yet deliberate choice that exuded confidence.

[Name] sighed, recognizing the mocking tone instantly. “Himizu,” she muttered under her breath, already bracing herself for his antics.

Himizu ignored her tone, his focus entirely on [Name]. “Fancy seeing you here, [Name]. Didn’t know you were into babysitting introverts,” he said with a sly glance at Ikki, who stiffened at the remark.

Ikki’s grip on his pen tightened, but he kept his gaze fixed on his notebook. [Name], however, wasn’t as willing to let Himizu’s comments slide.

“Himizu, it’s not nice to dig into people’s business,” she said sharply, folding her arms and glaring up at him. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother us?”

Himizu chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, but bothering you is my business,” he replied, leaning against their table. His split tongue flicked out again, as if tasting the air for her irritation. “Besides, you’re far too entertaining to ignore. That sour little look on your face? Priceless.”

[Name] scowled, her patience wearing thin. “Do you ever get tired of being a pest?”

“Never,” Himizu said with a grin, leaning in closer. His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “And you make it so easy. Tell me, [Name], do you always get this flustered when someone gives you attention? Or is it just me?”

Her cheeks flushed with anger, and she slammed her palm on the table. “You’re unbelievable! If you’re done being obnoxious, why don’t you—”

Before she could finish, Ikki finally spoke, his voice low but firm. “Leave her alone.”

Himizu’s head turned slowly toward Ikki, as if noticing him for the first time. His smirk widened. “Oh? And what’s this? A knight in shining armor? Or coward in calling?” He straightened and crossed his arms, regarding Ikki with mock amusement. “You’re braver than I thought, Niko. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Ikki’s jaw tightened, but he refused to back down. “We’re trying to study. If you’ve got nothing useful to say, then go.”

Himizu’s laugh was cold and sharp, cutting through the quiet murmur of the café. “Oh, how noble. But let me give you a little tip, Niko. Playing the hero rarely ends well. Especially not for someone like you.”

[Name] glared at him, her voice sharp with exasperation. “Are you done yet? You’ve made your point—whatever it was. Now leave us alone.”

Himizu tilted his head, pretending to consider her words. “Hmm. I suppose I’ve had my fun for now.” He stepped back, his split tongue darting out once more in that unnerving, snake-like manner. “But before I go...”

He leaned in close to [Name], his lips near her ear. His voice dropped to a low, almost seductive tone. “You smell absolutely delicious.”

[Name] froze, a shiver running down her spine. She instinctively pulled back, her heart pounding in her chest. Himizu straightened with a chuckle, clearly satisfied with her reaction.

“See you around,” he said lightly, giving them both a mock salute before sauntering off, his laughter echoing behind him.

[Name] sat stiffly for a moment, her hands clenched into fists. “That guy is the worst,” she muttered, her voice trembling with anger.

Ikki, still tense, glanced at her. “Are you okay?”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... creeped out.”

Ikki nodded, his own frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw. “Next time, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the chance to bother you.”

[Name] managed a small smile, grateful for his support. “Thanks, Ikki. Let’s just get back to studying. I need something to distract me from... that.”

Ikki nodded again, and they returned to their books, though the lingering tension from Himizu’s presence weighed heavily on their minds.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Exam Part 1/2

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𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙿𝚄𝚂!! 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝟷𝟾 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛!!!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

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