#but it’s going to be structurally different from the other chapters and take place all in the present day

[vroomian]

Guys. You have no idea how badly I want to write the last chapter of bbp. I have an absolutely heart wrenching scene between Aizen and masa that explains some Werid things a few readers have noticed and my brain is going !!!!!!!!!!! About it!

[the---hermit]

how I take notes on non fiction books

I recently made a post on my study method, and decided to make a whole separate post on my note taking method. The structure of the notes I write doesn't vary too much from my lecture notes to things I might have to read. A couple of useful informations you might want to know before I start actually talking about note writing is that I am mainly focused on studying history (tho I have had other humanities exams in my degrees), and that I study for oral exams in which the material is mainly composed of non fiction books, but sometimes include articles as well as lecture notes. Somehow I have also failed to mention that I am speaking about HANDWRITTEN NOTES. I only do handwritten notes, I don't work well digitally, so keep that in mind. And with this being said brace yourselves for a very long post. The bullet points I will be making are not really in a specific order and I will be including a few pictures too.

The first step when I am working on the materials for an exam is to figure out in which order I will be reading (and writing notes) the books. This hasn't really much to do with the notes themselves, but it's important to know which of your materials is more general and what other things go more in depth, so that you don't struggle too much while studying. Another plan related thing I always do is to write down each chapter of the book I have to study on my bullet journal and how many pages it is so I can plan my studying more comfortably. If the chapters are very long, and divided in subchapters I sometimes also write those down.

The goal of the notes I write is to fully take the place of the book, so they tend to be very detailed and long. I do this because the very act of writing is part of my study method, and working on things I have written down in my own words is just much better for the type of learner I am. So basically I read the book only once, then it goes back on the shelf and I work exclusively on the notes. This means my notes need to be detailed and well organized.

My method is to read a chapter, underlining important stuff as I am reading, and then right after I am done reading I work on the notes for that chapter before moving onto the next. I do this because it makes the note writing more effortless, I am fresh with informations I just read and I basically just need to skim over what I have underlined.

On underlining, since it is so important. I underline everything I will be including in my notes, it might seem much as sometimes it consists of full paragraphs, instead of key words. But this is okay because my notes I don't just copy and paste.

To create useful notes you need to be re-elaborating the informations. You need to read, understand what you read, and be able to write it down using your own words. That way the notes will be easier to review, they will often be composed of shorter sentences, and by doing so you are also actively making writing part of your studying and not just a mindless activity.

Personally I don't work well with full pages summaries, I need the text to be visually broken into sentences/small paragraphs, and I use a lot of symbols as well as abbreviations.

Symbols and abbreviations are in a way part of your very own language when you are writing notes, you tend to develop these with time, but they are so useful. I personally use different types of arrows, all caps words, position of the text in the page, different methods of highlighting and abbreviations (usually for words that come up often like country names, for example Italy becomes ita, France becomes fr, etc.).

Your notes need to be useful for you, they don't have to necessarily be comprehensible for another person (which means you can and will fuck up sentence structure because sometimes skipping a couple of words makes the notes shorter and still understandable), and they do not have to be pretty. They should be as tidy as possible, but again that might change from person to person, I have some very messy looking notes that make total sense to me. With time you'll learn what works best for you.

I have a visual memory so as I mentioned titles, highlighters, all caps, the placement on the page and other similar things are very important in my notes. I cannot fully exapain some of these things because some definitely only make sense to me in the moment (like the words I choose to write in all caps, or the way I highlight things).

I like to have a clear chapter and subchapter break (so that in case I need to refer back to the book it's super effortless). I like to write those with a red pen, usually the chapter title is in all caps and the subchapter in coursive, but it really depends.

I use only two highlighters in each set of notes yellow for dates, and the colour I associate with the book/the subject of the book (I have synesthesia I don't make the rules when it comes to colours). This of course might change depending your preferences and on the element of your notes you want to focus on. I like to have spacific colour for dates and time periods, because of course while studying history that is a fundamental element. If you are focusing on other subjects you might want to have a specific colour for names, or other elements.

I like to leave a big side margin to add either key words (especially in lecture notes since they might be messier and jump around informations more often), or additional information in a second time (sometimes it happens, after you read another book, or attended a particular lecture you have to add a couple of sentences and I rather have a blank space that never gets used rather than no space at all for emergencies).

I honestly mentioned everything that came to mind right away, but since note writing is now basically a mindless skill I have been practicing for years I surely forgot about something. I might end up adding to this post in the future or write another one. My note-writing method has also changed a lot thought the years from high school to university, it's a skill I have been perfecting for the past decade. This to say that depending on what you are working on things might change, and by experimenting with different things you might find out things that work very well for you. If you have any questions on specific things I didn't mention or that wen't clear my inbox is always open and I am more than happy to help.

Since this post is already very very long I am adding the pictures below the cut

Example of a page of notes before and after highlighting

Example of symbols and structure of the notes and the way I highlight things (in which you'll hopefully be able to understand my handwriting, and in which there might be some spelling errors but alas that often happens in my real notes as well so if there are any it's for the sake of accuracy lmao). If I end up adding informations on the margins I always use a pen of a different color so I can tell which informations I got from what source (ex. main notes from lecture, colorful notes from additional article).

Example of messier notes in which the main text in black are the notes I took during lectures and the additional colorful text was added while writing the materials (I rarely do this, it usually happens when the lectures follow a book precisely, which happens when we have to study books or summaries written by the professor). As you can see I often use post it notes to add more writing space, and sometime I even use them to create visually separated sections. If I end up adding some drawings I also usually like to have them on post it notes so they stand out more (and if you are wondering why the hell would an history student need drawings it's usually either because I need a map or a region/state to mark things out, or when studying for archaeology exams I often needed visual references, for example to identify different types of vases or decorations).

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 1

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 4.8K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut (in later chapters). Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind maybe. Sylus being hot and a menace.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You’d woken up early- too early. Anticipation buzzed in your veins leaving your mind reeling and falling back asleep impossible. The entire team had felt it. Something big was in the works.

Captain Jenna had pulled you aside before you left work the night before. “Y/N, come and see me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got new mission details to discuss.” Her tone was commanding. This wasn’t a favour—it was an order, and orders like these, given late at night with no one around, usually meant trouble.

So you’d woken up early, made some breakfast, and finished your morning workout, all before the sun had even risen. You were absolutely going to regret this later when you were struggling to stay awake at your desk.

The dim glow of the tactical display flickered across the room, casting shadows along the walls. You sat across from Captain Jenna, her eyes sharp and assessing as usual, the weight of authority resting heavily on her shoulders. This wasn’t your first mission briefing, but something about this one felt different- heavier- more dangerous.

Jenna leaned back in her chair, a small datapad in her hand, swiping through it with deliberate motions. "The N109 zone," she began, not looking up.”What do you know about it?”

“Ermm, not much. I’ve heard rumours, of course and read about it but I’ve not had any first-hand experience,” You replied, confused by the line of questioning.

Jenna continued, "It’s a place where most don’t survive long, especially outsiders. You’ve been recommended for a mission there, but I need to know you understand what you’re walking into."

Your fingers twitched in your lap. "I’ve read the reports. I think I understand how it all works out there."

"Reports don’t do it justice." Her voice was clipped, leaving no room for debate. She tapped a button on the pad, and a holographic image of the N109 zone projected into the air between you. The image showed sprawling clusters of decrepit structures and seedy underground hubs. It looked almost abandoned but you knew from the reports that the N109 zone was far from empty. "The N109 zone is a black market for mercenaries, smugglers, and all types of criminals. At the centre of it all, is one man, controlling the whole thing. The N109 zone’s very own king, Sylus Qin."

Your stomach tightened at the mention of his name. Everyone in the association knew of Sylus, but few had seen him in person. His reputation preceded him: cold, ruthless, and always five steps ahead of his enemies. He’d been the reason for countless operations that turned south and why some hunters categorically refused to even enter the N109 zone.

Captain Jenna finally looked up from her pad, her gaze calculating. “The higher-ups have requested that you take on the mission to bring him to justice- finally. I personally recommended you for the job and my petition was accepted.”

Sylus, the most dangerous and infamous criminal in the N109 zone, known for being a manipulative and ruthless leader. And you were meant to capture him. The shock was clear on your face.

Jenna switched off the projection and fixed you with a steely gaze. "This is a high-stakes operation. The Hunter’s Association has been trying to bring Sylus in for years, but he’s too careful. He doesn’t make mistakes. He keeps his allies close and his enemies firmly in check. No one’s managed to get near him. We need you to do what others couldn’t- get close, make him trust you enough to come willingly." She pauses, letting the weight of her words settle. "And then, you will bring him to us. Quietly."

You blinked, the enormity of the task settling like a lead weight in your chest. "And then what? We arrest him?"

"Exactly. Once you have his trust, you’ll lead him to the extraction point, where other hunters will take over. Sylus has committed too many atrocities- smuggling, trafficking, assassinations. He needs to face justice. But if he even suspects for a second that you’re a threat, this mission will end in your death. Sylus doesn’t forgive betrayal."

A cold knot of apprehension twisted in your gut. "I’ve never operated in the N109 zone before. I know what people say about it…"

Jenna tapped the table, cutting through your uncertainty with her no-nonsense tone. "You were selected because of your history. You’re adaptable. You’ve been at the HA for a long time, and never failed in a covert mission and that’s been noticed. But understand this, this isn’t just about gathering intel, it’s about infiltrating his inner circle, making him believe he can trust you."

Her words hung heavy in the air, each one pressing against your already fraying nerves. "He’s known for reading people. How am I supposed to fool him?"

Jenna didn’t smile, but her eyes softened- just a touch. "You’ll have to earn his trust, slowly. Get into his good graces by being useful. You’ve got…skills he needs. Play into that. But be warned…" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a quiet, ominous tone. "Sylus is like no one you’ve faced before. He’s calculated, ruthless. If you slip up, even for a second, he’ll see through you. Use your wits… and if needed, your feminine wile” She trailed off, the insinuation heavy in the air.

A chill ran down your spine. You’ve heard the stories—how Sylus has taken down entire syndicates without lifting a finger, how he can dismantle a person with just his words, let alone the brutal efficiency with which he handles his enemies. The thought of trying to seduce him was almost laughable—and terrifying.

"And the Association is sure this will work?" you asked, your voice a little thinner than you intended.

Jenna narrowed her gaze, her lips pressed into a hard line. "No. But it’s the best chance we’ve got. The truth is, Sylus is too dangerous to let his network grow any further. The higher-ups have made it clear—they’d prefer him alive. Alive and arrested. If you succeed, this will be the biggest takedown in recent history. You’d be rewarded of course.” Her implication is clear, the promotion you'd been after for years.

You nodded, though your mind swirled with doubt. "And if I fail?"

"You won’t." The steel in her voice was unyielding. "Failure isn’t an option. Sylus doesn’t give second chances, and neither do we. We’ll provide your equipment and, when the time is right, we have an alias waiting for you"

The silence that followed is suffocating, the gravity of the mission pressing down on you. For a moment, you questioned whether you were truly ready for this—whether anyone could be. But then the adrenaline kicked in, and stirred something inside you - a challenge.

"I understand." You managed to say, your voice firmer than before.

Jenna stood, motioning toward the door, her expression softening just a fraction. "Your mission begins tomorrow. Prepare yourself. You’ll be alone in the field, and once you’re in his world, there’s no turning back."

You rose from your chair, nerves and determination churning inside you. "I’ll bring him in."

Jenna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "See that you do."

As you walked out of the room, your mind spun with the weight of the task ahead. Sylus wasn’t just a target; he was the most dangerous man you’d ever been assigned. And now, you were supposed to deceive him, to lead him into a trap- you couldn’t afford a single mistake.

The dim glow of neon lights and the low hum of music created a relaxed atmosphere in the small bar you and your colleagues gathered. It was a spot you’d claimed long ago after gruelling days of training or missions, a place for deepspace hunters to unwind.

Tara draped her arm around your shoulder, a drink in her hand, and a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She pulled you in tight and whispered in your ear excitedly "Y/N, you’re going after Sylus freakin’ Qin! I still can’t believe it." she whispered his name even quieter, as if saying it too loudly would summon him or something.

You let out a laugh, though it felt a little forced. "I’m not even sure why they picked me for this." It was true- despite Jenna’s recommendation, there were many, more experienced, higher-level hunters that had been put forward. So, why you?

Tara gave you a playful shove. "Are you kidding? You're a total badass! If anyone can take on that zone and come out alive, it’s you." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides, I heard Sylus is ridiculously hot. I swear, if you get up close and personal, you better tell me everything."

Xavier flashed you a horrified glance as you rolled your eyes, feeling part of the tension start to loosen and another begin to build. "It’s not like that, Tara."

"Oh, but it could be!" She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a teasing whisper. "Dangerous, brooding, probably smells like gunpowder and leather…"

"Please." You cut her off, shaking your head, but the smile on your face grows a little wider and you allow yourself a slight giggle. Tara had always known how to make light of things, even dangerous missions. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been close for so long—she knew how to distract you when you started overthinking.

Xavier’s voice cut through the banter, calm but carrying a note of something unspoken. "Just… be careful." He sat across from you, nursing his drink, his eyes more focused on the table than the conversation. "The N109 zone isn’t like your other missions. You won’t have backup, and Sylus… he’s a different kind of threat."

You glanced at him, feeling the weight of his concern. Xavier had always been protective, but something about his tone made you shift uneasily in your seat. "I know. I’ll be fine. Captain Jenna wouldn’t have assigned me if she didn’t think I could handle it."

Tara leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes at Xavier. "Please, Xavier. She’s not a rookie. Y/N’s a big girl; she can take care of herself. Besides, she’s not going to let some psycho in a leather coat throw her off her game, no matter how hot he is."

You chuckled, but Xavier’s frown deepened. "I just don’t like the idea of you going in alone. I’d feel better if you had some sort of backup."

You sighed, stirring the drink in front of you. "It’s a solo mission, Xav. That’s part of the deal. I’m supposed to gain his trust, remember? How can I do that with you hovering around or Tara creaming herself at the mere sight of him?" You tried to lighten the mood, but Xavier’s expression didn’t change.

Tara piped up again, grinning mischievously. "Gaining his trust… that’s one way to put it." She started humming a tune under her breath, a playful glint in her eyes. "Mama, I’m in love with a criminal…"

You laughed, shaking your head as Tara continued, her voice light and teasing. The absurdity of the moment felt like a balm to your nerves, even if the reality of the mission loomed large.

But Xavier wasn’t amused. His gaze flicked from Tara back to you, softer now, tinged with something deeper than concern. "Just… don’t do anything reckless, okay?"

You met his eyes, the weight of his words hanging between you. He’d always been this way- cautious, protective, lingering on the edge of something he could never quite say. As much as you appreciated it, part of you bristled at the overprotectiveness.

"I won’t," you replied, keeping your tone light despite the pressure of his gaze on you.

Tara, blissfully unaware of the tension, clinked her glass against yours. "Cheers to Y/N! Bringing down the most wanted, sexy criminal in the galaxy- and living to tell the tale!"

You shook your head again, but this time, the laugh was genuine. "You’re impossible."

"Someone has to keep things fun around here," she quipped, leaning back in her chair with a wide grin.

The conversation shifted, drifting away from the seriousness of the mission, and for a while, you let yourself get swept up in the celebration. But even as laughter and banter filled the air, you couldn’t shake the undercurrent of doubt creeping back in. Why had Captain Jenna really picked you? You weren’t the most experienced hunter. Others had more field time in the N109 zone and more reason to be chosen.

You glanced over at Xavier again, once again, finding his eyes already fixed on you. There was something unsaid there, a worry that ran deeper than his words, it made you uncomfortable.

"I’ll be fine," you said again, quieter this time, almost like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Xavier’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he raised his glass, his voice soft. "To your success. And your safety."

Tara beamed, still blissfully unaware of the weight in the air. "To Y/N! Who’s gonna take down the galaxy’s hottest criminal!"

Your first day in the N109 zone was, frankly, a disaster. The moment you crossed into the district, a wave of unease washed over you. The air felt different here- thicker, charged with tension and unspoken danger. Street lights flickered erratically, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and pulse with a life of their own, and the sun barely peaked over the horizon, never fully rising. You reminded yourself of your mission: track Sylus, gain his trust, and bring him into the Hunter's Association. But as you navigated the winding streets, the sensation of being in over your head clung to you

You pulled up a map on your Hunter’s watch, the holographic display glowing dimly in the murky light as you tried to identify potential leads. Information flowed like a murky river in the N109 zone, and every face you passed felt like a mask hiding something sinister. The first few contacts you attempted to make led nowhere - dead ends that plunged you deeper into the seedy underbelly of the district, where conversations were laced with hostility and suspicion.

“Hey, you new around here?” a rough-looking man asked, eyeing you as you lingered outside a dilapidated bar. His crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes and you felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You’ll need a better look if you want to fit in.” You glanced down at yourself-, he wasn't wrong. You stood out like a sore thumb in your Hunter’s uniform. Starting tomorrow, you’d dress like the locals- mostly in all black, blending into the shadows like everyone else.

“Just looking for some information on Sylus Qin,” you replied, trying to sound confident. But the moment his name left your lips, the man’s demeanour shifted. He narrowed his eyes, a flicker of fear or respect—or maybe both—crossing his features.

“Not the guy you wanna be messin’ with, sweetheart. Best steer clear,” he muttered before turning his back on you without another word. Frustration welled up inside you. This wasn’t going as planned. You didn’t want word spreading about your interest in Sylus.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself moving from one low-lit alley to another, encountering rejection and hostility at every turn. Everyone seemed to know Sylus’s name but was too terrified to speak it, leaving you grasping at shadows and feeling increasingly isolated. By the time night fell, the streets became more dangerous, and you decided it was best to retreat to your apartment back in Linkon.

Back home, you leaned against the wall, staring at your watch’s interface. The gravity of the mission settled heavily on your shoulders, and doubt crept in like a thief in the night. You realised that the darkness of the N109 zone was not just a backdrop- it was an entity that clung to you, whispering of your inexperience and vulnerability.

But as the days passed, a strange familiarity began to weave itself into your routine. You watched, listened, adapted. The subtle nuances of the district’s unspoken rules and underhanded dealings started to reveal themselves, and slowly, you learned how to navigate the complexities of the N109 zone. You began to blend in just enough to draw a few passing glances without arousing suspicion.

Your investigative instincts sharpened. You found yourself in beat-up cafés, observing patrons exchanging furtive glances over steaming cups of synthetic coffee, their conversations laced with veiled references to Sylus’s dealings. You overheard whispers of shipments, meetings, and finally- a location that sent your heart racing.

“It’s near the old foundry,” a waitress mentioned to a customer, her voice barely above a whisper. “He runs things from a compound, in one of the old stately homes. He keeps to himself mostly, but you can’t miss it. Just follow the road past the southern docks.”

A rush of determination flooded through you. Finally, a lead! You wasted no time; your heart thrumming with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The thought of finding Sylus’s estate ignited a spark of hope, propelling you forward. As you gathered your gear, you reminded yourself of your purpose. The apprehension from your first day still lingered, but now it was laced with a newfound resolve.

With every step deeper into the N109 zone, you embraced the danger. You were learning, adapting, and slowly becoming part of the intricate tapestry of shadows and light that defined this place. And for better or worse, you were closer than ever to the man who would challenge everything you thought you knew.

The lady had been right—you found the estate with relative ease. It was impossible to miss. The manor, though clearly built long ago, had been restored to near-new condition, standing stark against its dilapidated surroundings. This was Sylus Qin’s home—his base of operations as the head of Onychinus.

The first day you caught sight of him, was the day you knew this mission would be even harder than you were led to believe but for entirely the wrong reasons.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it was hard to remember why you were there. He was standing in front of a nearby building, the black blazer hanging loosely over his broad shoulders, his silver hair falling in dishevelled strands across his face. His red eyes scanned his surroundings like he owned the place—like there was nothing in the galaxy that could challenge him.

He was tall, too tall maybe, with that unfair kind of height that made him even more intimidating than the average person. But it wasn’t just his height. No, it was the way his body seemed to move—fluid and calculated, each step made with a deliberate grace that told you he knew exactly how dangerous he was. As did the people around him, whose gaze drifted to him subconsciously as he entered a room, commanding their attention.

Your gaze betrayed you, drifting down to his arms, the way his dress shirt clung to his biceps. His build was...distracting, to say the least. Muscular, broad chest, narrow waist, the sharp V-line of his torso that drew your attention a little too much. It was like he’d been sculpted by someone who thought it would be a fun idea to make a man too attractive for his own good. You cursed yourself for lingering.

Then there were his hands. Strong, elegant fingers, the kind you could imagine tracing patterns on the most sensitive parts of your body. You shook the thought away, appalled at how easily your mind wandered. His hands, as beautiful as they were, had more blood on them than you could count. There was nothing innocent about them.

Still, your eyes found their way back to his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight scruff that only added to his rugged charm. And his lips—damn, his lips. Full and soft-looking, the kind of lips that would make anyone wonder what they’d feel like against theirs. You swallowed, cursing the heat that rose in your cheeks.

You had a job to do. You couldn’t afford to think like that.

But there was something about Sylus that made you uneasy beyond his reputation. It wasn’t just his appearance, though that was enough to send your heart racing if you stared too long. It was the way he carried himself, the subtle confidence that came with being untouchable. He was a man who could ruin you in more ways than one, and you knew it.

And yet, here you were, watching him, trying to make sense of the strange feeling gnawing at you.

Attraction? Fear? A little bit of both?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t afford to get distracted. Sylus was dangerous. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him just a little too much, wondering if the same hands that could kill with such ease might feel different in other situations.

You found yourself thinking about Tara’s remarks. She would have a field day when you told her just how attractive he was. Something inside you bristed at the thought of Tara drooling after him, a nasty part of you felt compelled to slap her inevitable shit eating grin.

Every day, Sylus seemed to do something that contradicted his brutal reputation. Like he pulled up in a sleek black Bentley, only to open the trunk and haul out dozens of tins of tuna. He’d carried them into a dimly lit alley, where a cluster of stray cats eagerly waited their meal. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart softening at the sight. This was the most wanted criminal in deepspace? It was confusing- almost laughable. Captain Jenna’s warnings echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the wisp of a memory half-remembered. You watched intently, noticing the gentleness of his hands as he stroked one of the cats. The way his fingers curled and caressed the soft ear of the feline. You watched, meticulously.

Days later, you saw him stop outside a small, rundown school. A group of children played in the dust, their laughter filling the air like a melody. Sylus approached the headmaster, handing him an envelope. You couldn't hear their conversation, but you saw the gratitude in the man’s eyes as he accepted the donation. You noted it down. Sylus was supporting the struggling school’s program. This moment—so starkly contrasting with the image of a ruthless criminal—made you question everything.

Your fascination deepened as you watched Sylus conduct meetings with an array of characters—men in suits, tattooed individuals, all laughing and shaking hands. Nothing appeared violent or suspicious. The disconnect between your observations and the brutal image painted by others became more unsettling by the day.

Following him on foot was another failure—his long strides and confidence made it impossible to keep up. Frustrated, you abandoned the idea and focused on your surveillance equipment, your lifeline. But it was also the tether that forced you to confront the growing complexity of your feelings for him.

Then, everything changed.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind that seemed to lull the world into a false sense of security. You adjusted your viewing angle, your heart fluttering as you caught a glimpse of him in the warehouse, not far from his estate. Situated high in the rafters.You'd gotten there early, armed with intel on the meeting place.

The scene unfolded like a twisted play- goods exchanged, a casual meeting that quickly turned dark. Sylus stood across from Matthew Halbard and his associates. The deal should have been straightforward, he was buying protocores, altered, high-grade and rare components that would help strengthen his position in the N109 zone, Onychinus’s position. But tension hung in the air like a thick fog, and you could feel it even from your hidden position. Halbard’s eyes flicked with something dangerous, and your instincts told you things were about to go sideways.

The negotiation soured fast. You leaned in closer, your pulse quickening as you realised they intended to con Sylus. A betrayal.They’d planned to catch him off guard, take him out, and claim Onychinus for themselves. 'Cowards,' you thought. The idea of ambushing him, waiting for him to be alone, gnawed at you.

The tension in the air grew and the conversation escalated, Halbard’s face grew more smug and his men seemed to be dripping with anticipation. You watched Sylus closely. His expression remained neutral, predatory even, though you could see the faint tightening of his jaw. It was the only sign of the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. The sight sent a chill down your spine—the way he moved, the subtle aligning of his hips and rolling of his shoulders, was fluid, like a man who anticipated violence.

Then it happened. In a split second, Halbard’s men drew their weapons. Panic rushed through you, your breath catching. Sylus, however, didn't even flinch. Instead, he smiled—a slow, chilling grin that sent a jolt of fear straight through your core. Gunfire erupted, splitting the air like thunder, but Sylus became the storm instead.

You watched in horror, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, as he dismantled their attack with brutal efficiency, each movement deliberate and lethal. He was a force of nature, dispatching them with the same efficiency you’d seen him use while feeding stray cats - calm, casual, and unnervingly composed. The contrast between those two versions of him - the killer and the caretaker - left you reeling.

His Evol sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. Every strike was purposeful, no movement wasted. You watched in stunned horror as Sylus tortured the men before deciding, with terrifying calm, who deserved to die. The executions were brutal, calculated, each one more grotesque than the last. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Every death was horrific, yet undeniably earned. The men had underestimated him, and so, it seemed, had you.

Your stomach churned. The Sylus you’d observed over the last few weeks, the one who laughed over coffee and donated money to local schools, had vanished, replaced by a monster who shed blood as easily as breathing. It left you unsettled, blindsided by the jarring reality. How could this be the same person? You’d let your guard down, allowed yourself to see him through a softer lens, and now it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

As the dust settled and the echoes of violence faded, you remained hidden in the rafters frozen in place, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Sylus scanned the warehouse, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. For a moment, it seemed as though he sensed something out of place. You stayed perfectly still, hoping he hadn’t detected your presence.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Sylus sent a command to Mephisto, the mechanical crow perched nearby, its cameras whirring softly. “Keep an eye on that one,” he murmured, an amused smirk curling his lips. “Let’s see what she does next.”

Back in your apartment, the images of Sylus in the warehouse played on a loop in your mind, an inescapable storm of conflicting thoughts. You paced, trying to dispel the visions, but they clung to you. The Sylus you'd been watching- the one you'd begun to romanticise- was gone, replaced by the merciless killer from the warehouse.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, trying to calm your racing pulse. Your training kicked in, helping you focus in the quiet darkness of your apartment. That was when you noticed it. A large bird perched on the edge of your balcony, its beady eyes fixed on you. It moved with an eerie smoothness, almost unnatural. You squinted, trying to place the species. It looked like a strange hybrid between a crow and a raven, but something about it felt… off.

You shook your head. “What a strange bird…” you muttered.

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus smiled to himself. “Mephisto,” He chuckled, a spark of amusement lighting his carmine eyes as he leaned back in his chair, watching the live feed from the mechanical crow. The bird let out a soft caw.

“Let’s tone down your surveillance skills a bit,” Sylus chuckled softly. “We don’t want her feeling too watched, now.”

Mephisto ruffled his dark feathers in response, a silent display of sass that didn’t go unnoticed. The way the bird shifted its stance on the balcony almost seemed to say, Good luck with that, master.

Sylus’s gaze lingered on the flickering lights of the live feed as he leaned back, contemplating his next move. He was excited. The thrill of watching you navigate this game filled him with anticipation."Let the little bird think she's in control," he mused aloud, a slow grin forming. "It makes things more interesting.”

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! Please let me know what you think ♥️ reach out. Let’s talk! 🌹

[moirasdolly]

˚ ⋆ﾟ୨୧ Vampire Heart ୨୧ ˚ ⋆ﾟ Arlecchino x Fem Reader

Synopsis: Running away from an arranged marriage seemed like it was the only option for you, so you set out in the middle of the night only to stumble across a mansion deep in the woods. A beautiful stranger opens the door for you before you plead your case to seek shelter in her home. You faint as the harsh conditions from the night catch up to you and you awaken in a bed that ain’t yours with the same beautiful stranger tending to you. There’s something off about her though…

Contains: NSFW (men and minors dni), graphic depictions of blood sucking, hurt/comfort (only slight angst).

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: Minerva - Deftones

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write a vamp!arle fic since FOREVERRRR and i’m finally getting to it!! This is just a quick intro so that I could get some ideas flowing ^_^ I don’t have exact plot points for what I want to happen, butttt i have a few ideas. There will definitely be a sexy blood sucking chapter though… so be prepared

❤︎ Chapter 1: Feverish

Shivers racked your body as you stumbled through the deep forest. A thick fog was beginning to settle, and it was just your luck that rain started to pour down as well. “S-Shit…” You mumble out, raising your hands above your head in a futile attempt to shield yourself from the drizzles of rain rolling down your body. By now you were soaked straight to the bone and it was getting harder and harder to trek through the foliage. Your limbs felt heavy and your limbs grew tired as you pushed on the best you could.

You were beginning to think that maybe running away from home was not the greatest idea in the world. Sure your parents wanted to marry you off to some guy twice your age just for riches and status, but in your delirious state, you thought to yourself that you would have taken that situation over what you were going through now. Your fingers were numb from carrying heavy bags full of clothes, other necessities, and a small amount of food and water to make it on your own. You weren’t quite sure where you were going when you left in the middle of the night, and you definitely didn’t have any sort of plan, but in the moment you just couldn’t take it anymore.

The hope of finding a place to rest for the night dwindled down by the second. That is until you stumbled into a large clearing, revealing a huge mansion. It was breathtaking… Black bricks made up the facade and gold accents were sprinkled throughout the building. The rooftop came into steep gables, signaling the different rooms in the house. There were few windows though, most of them dark, but a few of them emanated a soft yellow glow. You assumed someone must be home, but you wondered what they were doing awake this late at night.

The dark architecture filled your vision, and you knew it was shady, but you were willing to take the risk. You just missed the feeling of being warm, cozy, and most of all, dry. You were willing to stay in a place like this even just for the night, as long as you had shelter from the harsh outside conditions.

As you approached the intimidating structure you could have sworn you saw a figure in the window of the highest floor. The figure disappeared just as quickly as you saw it though. A sickening feeling was beginning to settle into your stomach as you made your way up to the door and wrapped your frozen fingers around the large, intricate door knocker. You knocked three times, the sound of rough iron clanging against the door echoed into the cold night. Moments later, you heard shuffling behind the door and the sound of heels approaching. The door creaked open, revealing a tall woman with a slender figure dressed in a grey, black, and red suit. You found it odd considering it was the middle of the night and she was still fully dressed, but you pushed that thought away before opening your blue-tinged lips to speak.

“I know, it’s the middle of the night, and I’m a stranger…” you started, “but I’m in dire need of somewhere to stay and-“ You couldn’t even stay upright any longer. You fell to the floor with a loud thud before you could even finish explaining yourself, and the last thing your fuzzy brain could remember was being lifted into the arms of the beautiful stranger.

Your eyes fluttered open groggily as you looked around the dark room you had been situated in. It was clear this wasn’t your own room, but you couldn’t remember anything that had happened. The last thing you remembered was fainting at the doorstep of the large castle-like home you had encountered.

Soft, cloud-like pillows were placed beneath your head and you were enveloped in silky blankets that cascaded over your body. Somehow you had been changed into dry clothes as well. The soft scent of roses wafted through the air and you almost felt like you were in heaven. At least that’s what you would have thought if a headache wasn’t brewing from the rough night you had. You tried to lift your tired body up with shaky arms before falling back into the bed again.

“Ah, you’ve awoken.” A deep voice calls to you from the shadows. Too tired to move your head in the direction of the voice, your eyes scan the room before landing on the woman whose home you were in. “What time is it?” Your voice was raspy and sore, you knew it would turn into a full blown fever in no time. “A little past 4 in the morning, you were out for some time.” The woman answered before swiftly moving to the bedside.

She pressed a cold, gloved hand to your forehead and it almost offered a bit of relief to your growing fever. She clicked her tongue before standing up straight again, “This is no good. You’ll have to stay here until you’re better.” You felt guilt bubbling up in your stomach as she offered you a place to stay, you had originally not even planned to stay past the morning, but she insisted. Your protests just fell upon deaf ears because she was not listening to a single word you said.

You gave up a while ago once your words had just become babbles of incoherent thoughts. Your feverish state began to catch up to you and you were weaving in and out of consciousness. The whole time, the woman beside you hadn’t budged though. She stayed glued to the bedside in a big comfortable chair she moved to be closer to you. If you asked her why she was seemingly so attached to you she’d brush it off and say she couldn’t watch someone be so sickly in her presence without doing anything about it, but in the back of her mind it was because she felt a flutter in her heart every time she looked at your sleeping figure. She couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was though. Perhaps it was your full, blushing cheeks, or your pouty lips, or your soft hands that tugged at the blankets to pull them closer as you tossed and turned in your sleep.

She snapped out of her thoughts as she heard you shuffling around, you were growing restless due to the fever that had worsened in just an hour. She retrieved a cool wash cloth and placed it over your forehead in an attempt to cool you off before soothing your hair down gently. “At least try to sleep soundly, dear.” She spoke in a low voice, not wanting to wake you up fully. You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating or not, but when she spoke you saw the glint of sharp fangs in her mouth. And if you looked closely, you could see the soft glowing of red whenever your eyes met hers.

Everything was a bit weird to you, but you didn’t question it due to your feverish state. The last thing you could recall before falling back asleep for the rest of the morning were the two little dots that resembled a bite mark on the right side of her neck. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought she was a blood-sucking creature that you had only heard about in folk tales.

“Sleep well, dear.” The beautiful stranger hummed before standing from her seat and making her way out of the room. She vanished from the room swiftly and you were left with nothing but sleep to consume you in no time.

[arcane-vagabond]

Stranger Like Me: Chapter Three

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

ContentWarnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Jake being crass, Bradley and Boots in their feelings, Bradley's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Kazansky had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Bradley was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the large man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the boys had given you endless shit about it, Jake being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Bradley had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Javy had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Bob was too busy going over something with Ice to pay you much mind. Jake had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Bradley. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the blond. Bradley placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Jake taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Javy placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Jake hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Jake!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Javy cackled and Maverick cleared his throat, his own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation. Bob and Ice looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the blond, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Javy handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Bradley had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Jake rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Bradley’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Ice had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Bradley, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Bradley sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Mav or Ice or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Bradley’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Javy’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Bradley crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Bradley let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Maverick called, coming into view with a smile. Bradley immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Mav smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Bradley snapped, leveling Mav with a glare. The older man looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Bradley’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Bradley huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Bradley didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Bradley’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Kazansky the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Bradley was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Bob had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Bradley huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Bradley’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Bradley straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Bradley actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had ten years of practice, but even Tom had seemed surprised when he walked in on Bradley telling you a story one day, the younger man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older two men even knew if Bradley could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Bradley found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Maverick and Tom more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Bradley’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Tom had named him, had several offspring, so Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Tom and Maverick called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Bradley reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed skin, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Bradley caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Maverick has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Bradley following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Bradley frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Jake and Javy groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Maverick and Tom had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Bradley immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Bob asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Jake plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Bob offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Javy and Jake.

“You would,” Jake threw back at the bespectacled man with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Bob scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Javy warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Bob snorted, earning scowls from the other two men. Before the argument could continue, both Maverick and Tom strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Mav grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Tom not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Bradley’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Bradley’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Bradley knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Bradley was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Maverick and Tom say it to each other on rare occasions, but Bradley had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Bradley felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Tom and Maverick what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: Reminder to everyone that I am redoing my tag lists! If you haven't added yourself to the new one, please do so! I will also not tag you if you do not have an age listed on your blog or your blog is blank, so if you sign up for the tag list, please make sure you add your age and fill in your blog! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. You can also find my works on AO3 under arcane_vagabond. If you enjoy my writing, try checking out some of my other series as well and/or leave me a tip if you feel compelled to do so!

[jainydoe]

Delirium

summary: She’s an angel, he’s a dog. Or, the confessions of a white tenured male.

tw: smut, mentions of death, violence

In his dreams are mausoleums. Rows sky high of those he’s trounced. Boys and girls from Schoolyard’s Past. A stranger from a conference who murmured about his adornments - Volkarin is just so … tragically nouveau riche. 

Johanna. With her hair and her laugh, laid dead with a frozen smile.

He keeps them all. Collected. Strolls along the cool, clean corridors and considers their carcasses. Malleable. Under his thumb. Under his spell, should he wish. Ripped from rest and compelled to answer any inquiry that may flit across his mind. He’s built a recent wing. Young men and women and. Taashes. Tucked neatly and filed amongst the masses. 

Then there’s her. 

For her, he’s built an atrium. A private temple where she’s kept in glass. Perpetually moonlit. Preserved. Perfected. In his dreams, he lifts the top of her enclosure open, rushes a breath across icy cheeks. Hours pass and he stares. Confesses secrets. Fears. Wants and desires. He thinks of the different ways she could die and how each would draw and quarter the soul until he’s scattered so distantly, he’d be impossible to make whole. Her, hung in a frozen suspension. Mouth agape and rigor mortis set in. His face would slot so carefully under her breasts, and he’d keep her there, midair, just to ache and sob into her ribs. Or her, burned and charred, body fruitlessly attempting to stay with him. Resisting the path to ash. He’d grip the air, magic rising the fire higher and higher, screaming into its lashings in a jealous rage. That it could consider itself worthy enough to touch her. To take her. Consume her. It takes a few weeks of knowing Rook before he’s begun desecrating the other crypts in his dreamscape. Every gentleman, lady and tramp who accost her with their gaze, with their booming want, earn a place in the Hall of the Damned. He keeps them in an area far from her tomb. The moonlight doesn’t grace their nameplates. When he imagines their spirits pleading in the dark, scared and confused, he sleeps like a babe. 

The waking hours are cruel and unusual. At home, every chapter of the day is one to celebrate. The mornings, ripe with expectation and promises. Brunches. Afternoons of discussion and lounging and napping and laughing and dinners overflown with debate and passion. He misses conversation. The type that leaves you buzzed and amped. He catches it sometimes with Bellara or Neve, but Rook leaves him itchy and ready in a way he hasn’t been since his boyhood. If she were a girl in a club and he were a boy with two drinks, he’d give her that smile that always works and kiss her hand to go the extra mile. He’d tell her he knows a spot in the Memorial Gardens and play the gentlemen who won’t offer to fuck her right away because modesty will have her gagging for it. But this is the real world and he’s pushing fifty. The closest he can get to romance is pouring her wine at the dinner table and laying on the pet names like he’s got plenty to spare. He’s started pampering himself. On days where she’d rather have the company of the boy or the other boy, he spends hours rubbing creams on himself, languidly dressing, steps out onto the balcony in his room and thinks about what she’d say if she saw him in just his dress socks, hair ungelled, five o’clock shadow shading his bone structure in that way he’s been told is haunting. He hopes the look he’d give her would haunt her. Etch itself into her memory and burrow into the marrow, to the point where she couldn’t ever feel pleasure again without thinking of his. Remembering the way he’d whisper her name before coming undone at the seams.

Tonight isn’t anything special - not in the grand scheme of things - but he lets the perfumed oil drop onto the paper-thin dip of his inner wrist, taking a deep, deep pull of the leather-booze-sweat-and-musky combo that he knows will drive her mad. He watches her in marketplaces, eyes running over the twinkling bottles of imported goods too precious to touch. Curved glass, inviting and seductive, begging to lay on flesh. She has caked blood on her chest and makes sure her steps are less heavy, presence less imposing. The salespeople offer, nonetheless, smiles wide and hands outstretched, and he feels his shoulders tighten as she wipes her hands along her armor, picks at her skin, begins the fruitless endeavor of trying to dig the last bits of dirt from under her nails. 

Sorry, I’m afraid we can’t afford anything today. 

A lie, though one she might not realize she’s telling. She’s a scrounger. A scrappy, makeshift trader. He wants to ask how she can keep affording all the sleekest, strongest armor and charming home adornments, things that make their situation less of a shit-fuck and more of a happy-accident, but he knows she’ll never tell. I’ve got to keep some secrets, she’d smile, impish and nymph-like, an invitation for him to peel off all her layers and share a secret he’s kept for this whole entire time. One that’ll keep them whispering to each other all night. In the darkest hours, he lets the mind wander to flushed lips, reddened limbs, reddened teeth from the caked blood he’s licked her clean of. She’d be disgusted and he’d be drunk, covering her in every shiny thing of his he has to offer. 

Marketplaces are a dangerous setting for him. Tempting in their quick releases. I saw this and thought of you, and I saw that and thought of you, I’m practically always thinking of you, do you think of me, how often, how deeply, how about you show me, right here, right now, before either of us have a chance to think twice. 

Wearing the oil is the little thing he allows himself, a pathetic tether to the fantasy he’s let play out. The Rook he’s created from stolen glances, lopsided conversations, dinner jokes and morning tea and midnight-solo-hand-fucks where he can ramble all the things he loves about her and it isn’t unwanted, it makes her cum - that Rook would smell the fact he’s wearing their scent, and make a point of having his sheets smell only of her for the next week. She’d be furious. She’d be deliriously in love. He should make his way to dinner, already. He’s expected. Who will ask questions no one wants to answer if Emmrich is spiraling all on his own?

“So, after all that, what did you do?”

They’re trading adventures amongst themselves, this medley of gritty, young things. Stories of near-death and past lives they’ve left behind - it helps distract from the. Well. Emmrich doesn’t share much because when you work in death long enough, you learn only the other people who work in death care to talk about it. He’d hoped Lucanis would be a shoulder to gab on. He couldn’t have been more wrong. He makes a note to visit the Necropolis soon and only realizes the table has gone silent when Rook is all cheeks ablaze and girlish hair-tucking. Her eyes dance around the table, avoiding Emmrich, entirely. He probably would, too. People who don’t contribute don’t get the benefits of worthwhile attention. A lesson he teaches his students all too well. There are too many other, more important things to fail at here, though. Oil and restriction are the two indulgences he’ll allow, he’s decided. And another glass of wine. Dalish? Huh. Good for them. 

“Well,” she continues, “there’s more than one way to convince a guard you’re better off unchained.”

Harding’s guffaw shakes the table and he almost lights a necrotic pool on her chair. Taash is slapping Rook’s back and Neve is laughing into her glass. By the time he’s back in his body, aware of the room, of his senses, Rook is the only person sitting at the table. He can picture it so clearly. Her, chained. Stretched. Arms above her and belly exposed, a deceptively innocent cross of one leg over the other. A pretty please and an I promise I’ll never commit another crime ever again, I swear. He thinks about gripping the hair at the top of her neck and asking how she can be so cavalier about life, constantly toeing the edge. When she regales the dinner table with stories of old friends, people she used to know, he’d imagine meeting them, bringing a bottle of shockingly Dalish wine, something local and real and so down-to-earth. He’d turn up the charm, make them all laugh and later that night spread her legs, his chest against her back as his fingers dipped down, tracing the edge of her underwear, asking if he’s performed to her satisfaction. It’s miserable. It’s juvenile. The fact that the thing that drives him over the edge is imagining himself as a fixture in her life. Her charming companion. Her smart and funny guy that buys her chocolates and treasures and knows that when he touches her right there, she has to shut her eyes because he’s just too much. He’s taut. He’s on edge. And it’s because he knows she’s lying. 

“Heading to bed, Emmrich?”

He smiles, rising from his chair and crossing over to the fireplace. He reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out the gold cigarette case he’s kept on deck, nowadays. Smoking used to be something he considered a young man’s game, reserved for the insanity one feels only in their twenties. He’s realised that feeling is a long-forgotten acquaintance whose not only decided they’re moving in, but that they’re marrying Emmrich and pregnant with twins - Starvation and Enslavement. It’s too late to do anything about it. The nursery’s all picked out. 

He crouches down on one knee, inching closer to the fire until the flames nearly kiss him and he can puff out a bit, igniting. “Forgive me, my dear. Forgot my lighter on my desk.” He can lie, too. For a moment like this. He knows what he looks like, sharp and wolfish and the fire paints him a dashing devil instead of a foaming beast. This little move is one of the few tricks he learned from the only other girl who invoked The Acquaintance. Come on, Volkarin, don’t be such a coward. Fucking popinjay. “That’s quite a tale you told, earlier. The one with the guard and chains.”

Her eyes are on him as he rises and leans his shoulder against the mantel, controlled and poised like a former ballerina.

“I’ve lived an exciting life, I know.” 

He grins. “Remind me, what did you say you did, exactly?”

She knows he knows. Years of training students keeps one’s finger on the pulse of casual deception. She crosses her arms and lifts her chin in the particular way she does when she wants to appear leader-like. “I blew him. And while he was seeing stars I locked him back in my cell and got away.”

He twitches. His nose burns. “Charming, as always, but I’m afraid that’s not quite what you said earlier. You said,” he uses the cigarette to point at her, “that you took him on your cot and locked him onto it. I remember for two reasons. The first,” he inhaled, “I found it puckish and creative. The second,” he exhaled, letting the smoke twirl away from them both as the tip of his thumb started tracing his mustache, “I know for a fact they don’t keep cots in those jail cells. Too comfortable. A distraction from contrition.” He looks at her shoes. Her hands. Rolls his gaze up to her eyes. “Did you really have to sleep your way to freedom, or was that just a show for our more easily entertained party members?” 

She’s enraged and embarrassed, but not too much to point out the obvious. “I don’t know, Emmrich. For a guy who remembers to bring a handkerchief to battle, I highly doubt you happened to forget your lighter on your desk.” In a flash of nerve and steel, she slaps his chest, feeling into the pocket of his vest and slipping out the matching, gold zippo. “Do you think I’m someone easily entertained?”

He looks at her nose, her chin, the bottom of her eyes, counting each lash as he counts his breaths. Lets himself smile. To relax her. To challenge her. To beg her. “I’m afraid if the likes of prison guards and roguish younglings can keep your attention,” he sighs, tossing the rest of the cigarette into the flames, watching it become engulfed, “then I couldn’t possibly attempt the conquest of your favor.” He knows what he’s just admitted. Feels it in the tips of his fingers as he wills them not to dance along his thighs or itch at his neck. Be calm. Be kind. Be careful. 

“What would that look like? If you,” she’s shivering, “If you did attempt?”

“Likely frightening.” That makes her laugh. He’d do anything to make her laugh again. But he’d really do anything to shut up that laughter, afterward. Spin it into something breathy and relentless. He wonders if this is what it feels like once your mind is lost. Thinks of cellars and bugs and the stench and rot of insanity. He’d look so perfectly appropriate in creamy cotton, pulled tight, all to keep him from the frenzied need to keep touching himself, no matter how much it hurts, because the ghost of her memory is most present when he’s wanton and weak. It’s not a bad outcome. He would gladly take the isolation of the fractured mind, shattered glass reflections all of Rook, 

Rook, 

Rook, 

Rook, 

over the pounding loneliness he’s known all too well. 

He watches as she looks at her hands, dirt chunking from under her nails, and she smiles something light and tempting. Maybe she wasn’t lying about that guard, after all. Who wouldn’t unshackle a maiden so sweet? He doesn’t care if she’s a siren. He’ll hold his breath until he chokes. “Truth be told, my dear,” here goes nothing, “to vie for your affections, I’d probably pester you with questions, act a fool and ignore any indication you might feel the same in the hopes you’d eventually leave me to perish in peace.” It breaks his heart to watch her frown. Don’t pity him. Don’t look at him. He’s not a wilting lily, he’s a dying ember who only needs the air from her lungs to lift him back to life. He was making peace with death, before her. It’s something he’ll never forgive her for. 

She lifts a hand to his jaw, delicate and rough, thumb running under his cheekbones. “Well, if I were to be in a similar position, perhaps I’d darken your doorstep every day, lose my nerve if I catch your eye too long and fashion myself an expert lover in the hopes it’d catch your attention.” 

She wants him and he’s a makeshift dragon tamer. Scrappy. Scrounging for any hint of interest. His desire is an archdemon he’s been holding back with shoelaces. “My dear, if your intentions are sincere, I fear what may become of me.” 

A girl possessed, the blacks of her eyes blow wider as the sharp of her teeth begin glinting in the firelight. He’s choking. “You should be afraid.”

Once they’ve crossed the threshold of his door, she pushes him against the slab, lips shiny and breath shallow. Her fingers are clumsy with youth and he’s bumbling out apologies for the mess, for the cold, for anything that might make her leave. He wants to bring her by the fire, warm her up, take his time with his meal. He hears a rip in his dress shirt and considers offering a proper spanking, but before he can assume the position she declares “Get on the table.” He cocks a shoulder and tilts his head. Smiles. Mind blank. 

“I beg your pardon?”

Her strength should come as no surprise and he regrets his yelp when his thighs scrape against the stone. He’s in briefs and briefly wonders if this is where she kills him. Lets him bleed out, a martyr, her sacrificial lamb. He’d keep his eyes on her as the lights go out, glad he could finally perform to her satisfaction. When she yanks the last bits of cover off of him, the cold much more biting and mocking, he nearly crosses his legs and asks if she’d like to join him for dinner sometime. 

“Lie down and spread your legs.” He laughs. The look on her face says to shut up. 

If she’s impressed by his figure she makes no show of it, stripping herself down and, like a lightning rod, gaining electric power with every item she removes. Once she’s as bitten by the cold as he is, puckered and goose-pimpled, she steps up onto the stone, between his legs, staring down at him. His mouth waters. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.”

“Tell me you need me.”

“Darling-”

“Say it.”

He feels himself getting harder. “I need you.” “I’m going to kill you tonight.”

“I know.”

“And when I’m finished, you’re going to thank me for it.”

“I will.” 

She wastes no time warming him up. Her mouth is boiling on the tip of him and he angles to scrape the back of her throat if just to put her on the back foot. In response, she grips his hips, nails digging into the bone as she lowers and lowers and lowers until his toes curl and throat tightens. She’s a harlot and a harpy and his heartbeat is pounding through his head. Hands are pathetic and past conquests no match for her pretty little mouth. Her drool is dripping everywhere and he’s parched. “Let me taste you.”

“No.”

She scratches at his inner thighs, the soft little points where he’s hairless and shallow and the chills running down his scalp make him feel almost feverish. Good. He hopes he infects her. He hopes the little bit of poison that’s soon to fill her cheeks will spark delirium, binding her to him, his kiss the only antidote. Her hair is so shiny and he’s seeing stars. “Kiss me.”

She pops off and grips him like it’s a weapon. “No.” The back of his head thunks in anguish. 

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’ll say anything, please, my darling, if I could just,” With a final lick he cums, shiny and sticky on his stomach, matting his hair. She leans over him, commanding and resolute. A demon. A creature of evil. A girl who will haunt him forever. 

“Take me to dinner.”

“I will.”

“Buy me something nice, too.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll fuck you when you prove you’re better off unchained.”

“Thank you.”

That night, he dreams he’s trapped in a glass casket and she sits in the pews, smiling at him. He’s never slept better.

[harleyquilt]

Misreading Touka (Tokyo Ghoul Meta)

For some reason, I've been seeing more dung being thrown at Touka's characterisation in the series, and since I've been wanting to write a meta for a while now, I decided to do a short one addressing some of the criticism I've seen around. This won't go into everything, of course -- the series is far too dense with analytical potential and I am a busy bee. Just know that I do want to dive deeper into Touken/Kanetou at a later point.

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Touka is not reduced to a simple, meaningless housewife, and I do not understand why this perspective is used to undermine her character so often in the fandom. For the sake of this argument, I will be mostly focusing on her characterisation in ;Re, as that is where this criticism is mostly rooted. Yes, she is less active in the first part of the second series, but between all the other characters, events, and plot points, it is bizarre to me that people see so little in Touka, despite all that she does. 

I could dive into how Touka as a whole symbolises key themes throughout both series, and how that relates to Kaneki’s development, but I think I will save that for a separate meta. For now, I just want to discuss how Touka is positioned in the second series, and how it does not weaken the characterisation Ishida set up in the first. 

Following the end of the first series, which set its tone as a tragedy, Touka opens the ;Re café to act as a refuge for ghouls, just as Yoshimura did beforehand. To clarify, Yoshimura saved Touka from her miserable life on the streets, giving her the chance to live with some semblance of normalcy following the tragic consequences of her childhood. And now, as an adult, and with Yoshimura gone, Touka strives to recreate that environment once more. There are those that think she has done this for Kaneki and Kaneki alone, but that is clearly not the case, even if she does hope for Kaneki’s return one day; she allows Nishiki to take refuge there while he tries to find Kimi, she saves Tsukiyama after the Rosewald operation, and before anyone argues that she was still not directly involved in either case, she actively takes part in Ayato’s mission to save Hinami. It is there that she then sees Kaneki and allows him a place to stay too, following his battle with Arima. She even provides Akira and Amon a place to stay, reconciling their differences in the process, (underrated chapters, I think).

Up until this point, Touka has been forced to ‘live while losing’, and whether she decides to fight or not, it is an unavoidable outcome when it comes to war. She is simply trying to do what she can without trying to kill herself in the process – a flawed sentiment she has seen in her father and Kaneki before, and even to some extent, Ayato and Hinami.

She fights when she can, runs if she has to. She is forced to make this choice again and again, especially when the underground ward is attacked, and for the sake of her unborn child and other weaker ghouls, she must retreat if she doesn’t want all of them to needlessly die. 

That said, it is not as if she leaves without trying to fight first, she just isn’t stupidly overpowered like her opponents, (and that isn’t a jab at Ishida, I’m simply clarifying that she can’t defeat these foes with just Hinami at her side). Even then, she manages to stand her ground for a long time, despite the pregnancy and her hunger. Moreover, her kagune has developed since the first series, and like Ayato, she’s able to create more advanced structures with her ukaku. You just have to read in between the lines to see that Touka has never allowed herself to grow soft in the years Kaneki was away, and that only now, during this battle, can you see more of her capabilities.

And when Kaneki is trapped within Dragon, she finally decides that she cannot lose him – she refuses to lose him, because to do so would bring on too much despair. Just as Kaneki has prioritised Touka, Touka, too, will prioritise him, and so, even with her exhaustion, she battles against Mutsuki, digs through the Dragon’s flesh until her fingers and nails break, and almost succumbs to grief at the thought that he was already lost to her. The chapter is overlooked far too often, her desperate determination conveying to the reader the importance of love as a driving force.

Again, we saw this with Kaneki, who pushed himself past his limits in hopes of reaching Touka. Whether you like it or not, love is a powerful thing, and that has been shown throughout the series with many, if not all the characters. And for Kaneki and Touka, their love is their hope, and to lose that love is to lose their hope. So they fight, again and again, for each other and the light they bring into each other’s lives. 

Now I can argue all day about how Touka is far more active in the series than people care to admit, but I do not think that is why Touka is labelled as a housewife. I’ve been in the fandom for a long time and this label has been around long before their relationship was canonised, and I think it’s to do with the fact that Touka is clearly more feminine in ;Re. 

I’ve already explained that in terms of action, Touka still has plenty of moments to speak of, and personality-wise, I really don’t think she’s as different as people claim her to be. Yes, she’s calmer, but that shouldn’t be seen as a bad development. She’s an adult now, and with adulthood comes maturity, (or it should, anyway). She doesn’t need to fight anyone and everyone to prove herself, that is simply a childish perspective to take. Besides that, she’s still curt in the way she talks, is sarcastic and blunt, though not as harsh as she was before, and she still carries herself with plenty of pride and dignity, which was what was so appealing about her in the first series. Ffs, she confronts the whole CCG and tells them to eat shit because their arguments were annoying her. It’s ridiculous to me that people think she is a shadow of her former self, when there’s plenty of great moments involving her. 

As for her more maternal depictions, that is also something that has always been present, if you take a moment to connect the two series together. She was forced to grow up quickly when she became responsible of Ayato, and she effortlessly took Hinami under her wing after the death of her parents. This is an attribute that she continues to exhibit throughout ;Re, watching over the children and trying to comfort them. It’s a touching image, one that circles back around to her pregnancy. And to deem this progression as detrimental is rather…strange to me. In a time when we see women as strong and powerful for everything we represent – our hardships, both physically and emotionally, as well as our strengths – why is it seen as weak when female characters are utilised to represent the strength of womanhood. Because she’s a woman married to a man? Don’t be so childish. If you respect her characterisation at all, you will acknowledge how she continues to exhibit her strengths as an adult, whether that be in battle or beyond it. 

After all, Ishida could have easily written it so that she is no longer involved in anything past the discovery of her pregnancy. Except he doesn't, and instead, she fights even more, even harder, in spite of her pregnancy. Because of her pregnancy. And yet, this is somehow weakens her character? She is quite literally going beyond her limits to fight for her future, I see nothing weak in that.

It might be that readers dislike how she changes aesthetically, and that’s fine, but from that comes arguments that excuse why they don’t like her character. I could argue against every little argument I’ve seen about her, but at the end of the day, I feel like most of these points are made just to excuse a personal preference. And that is not an effective use of critical reading. You can’t make the story something it isn’t, and you can’t assume Touka was going to be a character she wasn’t written to be. If you don’t like that or disagree, then maybe this series isn’t for you and it’s time to move on. For now, at least, please give her characterisation the respect she deserves. Her role is so much more than the shallow labelling this fandom tends to give her.

[purpleyoonn]

red string 1

“our connection is determined by a tiny invisible string”

summary: you figured it was too late for your string to solidify, used to the idea of finding someone on your own, who also never got their string. However, your string began to tug when you least expected it, to the last person or people you would have ever thought. 

genre: soulmate au, red string of fate au, poly au, 

pairing: BTS (Yoongi centered) x Reader 

status: ongoing (random updates)

warnings: slight yandere themes, smut, insecure reader, alcohol, talks of jealousy, soul bonds, mentions of past abuse,

chapter warnings: soul pain, first meetings, running away, mc didn't really want a bond, cinderella-esque plot line, small panic attack, mc is cynical, allusions to past abusive relationship, 

I am not going to have a taglist for this fic. I will only be using the permanent taglist as its intended for all of my fics.

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp​ @yourleftsock​ @skyys-universe​ @cryingpages​ @strxwbloody​  @drissteele​ @dustyinkpages​ @iamkookiesforyou​ @crushedblackroses​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @blaaiissee​  @iiitsmaria​  @carolinexkpop​  @azazel-nyx​ @strawberry-moonpies​ @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​ @knjkitten​ @foreverweareyoung7​ @lachimolala22019​ @namuficxs​ @94z-93​ @kimgmzmc​ @thenaverse​ @dahliasbouqet​ @black-rose-29​ @tinyoonsblog​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @stellauniverse​ @stupendouscookiehumanmug​ @tinyoonsblog​ @veronawrites​ @tatyhend​ @singukieee​ @m0v3m3ntsblog​ @exfolitae​ @butterymin​ @queen-in-the-shadows​ 

masterlist // part 2

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Being in your twenties was weird. You went from being in a structured routine for twelve plus years, having to ask to go to the bathroom, to being on your own and having to make mistake after mistake until you get the hang of being an adult (even if you never actually figure it out).

Being in your twenties also meant something else to most of the world’s population. The tiny string of fate that was always thought of as a fantasy would solidify, only visible to you and the person or people on the other end. The string was supposed to lead you to your soulmate/s, but sometimes only served to be a reminder of what you couldn’t have.  

Some people are lucky enough to already be with their soulmates and receive their string when they meet them, even before their twentieth birthday. You were not so lucky.

You weren’t one of the people who dreamed of having a soulmate, at least until you started getting into reading. There were hundreds of stories about different soulmate relationships and everything they entailed. You consumed any type of soulmate media you could until you got your string. Then, it began to seem too real to you. Like it wasn’t something meant for you, almost like fate made a mistake.

At midnight on your twentieth birthday, you had woken up to the red string on your pinky, the bond tugging at you. It was solid and taught, giving you the idea that you were, in fact, nowhere near your soulmate. Which meant you might never find them.

You remember spending a good couple of years doing research, trying to figure out if the bond would really lead you to your soulmate like the research said. Months spent in front of your computer screen, looking at different places hoping you would feel some kind of tug on your pinky; any kind of indication that you might be looking in the right direction.

You never felt anything.

After a couple years of this, you didn’t really give up, but you stopped worrying about the tiny red string. You ignored it, you moved on, getting your bachelor’s degree, and decided to follow your friend and become an English teacher in South Korea. She had been over there for a year now and loved it.

You needed new experiences and your friend had already worked with a private company, helping you get a spot; something that was easy considering your English degree. It took a while to get your documents together, and even longer to actually land in Korea.

You had been here only two months now, but you loved everything. The culture was beautiful and your students were helping you to learn the language and where the best places to eat were. You could easily converse in Korean and were able to read it and write it slowly, but your understanding was okay. You still had troubles but nothing you couldn’t learn over time.

You taught the older students, and really bonded with some of them over your love of Kpop. Your lunches were usually spent with a couple of students trying to teach you how to do the choreo of their favorite songs or helping you to discover more than just mainstream media.  

Your best friend, Lindsey, taught the younger ones and was always bringing back artwork to your shared apartment. You used one of the walls in the living room as a display, hanging up all the different paintings and pieces her students gave her. They brightened the rather bleak apartment and served as a good conversation piece for your nosy neighbors whenever they knocked on the door.

Currently, you were lounging on the small sofa in the living room, watching television as you worked on a lesson plan for the following week. You were having the students create their own creative writing pieces where they needed to use at least two literary devices.

You had gotten out early and were waiting for Lindsey to get back from her school. You taught at two different schools within Seoul which was hard to work out times where you could hang out and explore outside of school.

Just as you were about to save your lesson plan to your school’s hard drive, the front door pushed open to reveal a sweaty and kneeled over Lindsey. Her face was a deep shade of red as she tried to breath, making you rush over to the red head.

“Oh my god what happened?!” You help her to the couch you were just on before moving to get her a cup of water.

“Did someone chase you? Are they still outside?” In your haste to figure out what happened, you move to open the front door, hoping that the person was outside still so you could go after them, only for Lindsey to scream again.

“What happened?” You rush back over to her, only now noticing the pieces of paper she held in her hands.

“I GOT THE TICKETS!” You blanked. You thought your friend was like attacked or something, running back to your apartment for safety. You were ready to grab the baseball bat you kept by the front door.

“You scared me half to death because of some…tickets?” You ask, your voice calm and tone even as you tried to keep from attacking your now grinning friend.

“Not just any tickets!” You just stared at her, blankly wondering if it was too late to get another roommate.

“I got us BTS tickets for your birthday!” She squealed, jumping up and down in place as she waited for you to get excited.

Your 25th birthday was coming up in a couple of days, and you had planned to just go and get drunk or pig out on food and binge your favorite kdrama. You didn’t really want to do anything else, never the one for actually celebrating your birthday.

“I thought the concert was sold out?” You question her.

The concert was going to be their welcome back, having all just gotten out of the army. They decided to go during the pandemic, knowing they wouldn’t be able to have any concerts or activities anyways. They did, however, leave army with plenty of material and songs to keep us happy while the pandemic was going on.

“It is. But my school was having a raffle for the tickets, and one of my student’s parents put my name in. I found out today that I won!” She squealed again, shaking the tickets in her hand.

“We have close to front row seats!” Your eyes were wide in shock, completely surprised by the turn of events.

You had always wanted to go to a BTS concert, not having been able to get tickets or the time off to go before, so to hear that Lindsey had gotten tickets to their welcome back concert, you were shocked and excited.

“When it is?” You ask her, thinking about if you would have to ask for time off.

“It’s Friday night.” Oh my. The concert was on the night of your birthday, in two days. You had nothing prepared. You had nothing to wear and you weren’t prepared to do anything that night.

“Uhm, babes, we have nothing to wear.” You tell her, breaking her out of her excitement. You see her face slowly move from excited to frantic, rushing around the room over to her bedroom door, throwing it open as you hear her begin to strip.

“Go get changed into better clothes! We are going shopping!” She yells out to you, and after not hearing any movement chucks a shoe at your head.

“Okay! Okay! Jeez! I’m moving. No need to get physical.” You mutter the last part as you trudge to your own room, looking for an easy outfit you could wear out.

Once the both of you were dressed, you waiting on Lindsey as she tried to fix her make up, you called an uber and made your way to the nearest shopping center. Lindsey was determined to get an outfit that went with one of their music videos. You just wanted to get like a pair of comfy pants and a cotton shirt. You knew you would get hot and stiff after a couple hours and wanted to be comfy.

After the first store you had what you wanted, even finding a BTS shirt to wear to the concert, you were waiting on Lindsey. After the sixth store you walked in, you were starting to feel kind of tired.

“Hey babes, you’re just needing accessories now, right?” You asked her, getting a nod in return as she holds two necklaces up to her neck.

“Okay. Well do you mind if I go get a pick me up or something? I’ll bring you back your favorite?” You ask, knowing she’s also probably starting to feel a little drained after working all day.

“Yes please! I’ll send you the money!” She says as you walk off, just waving you hand at her letting her know that you’ve got it. Her coffee order was only like three dollars anyways.

You leave the store and make your way to the nearest café, finding one only a couple stores away thankfully.

Opening the door, the scent of coffee fills your senses and you move to walk in when you feel a tug on your pinky. Something you haven’t felt since you first got your string. You were startled and freaking out a tiny bit as you moved to the side and out from in front of the door.

You sat down, not even checking to see if anyone was sitting at the table before looking down at your pinky. You could feel your breathing pick up and your heart begin to race as you saw more than one string.

You had four strings, one leading back out the door out away from where you were. The other three were leading to a table on the other side of the café, one string in particular way thicker than the others, a darker red instead of the bright one that it would normally be.

You follow the strings and find three men, covered from head to toe and wearing masks, already staring back at you. You could see their eyes were already wide, probably watching you walk in.

You were frozen as the men walked over to you, the thicker red string belonging to the man wearing the long black coat, a ball cap on his head and covering his face. The other two seemed to match in a way, their color scheme going together as they both wore varying shades of beige. Even their shoes matched, making you want to smile a little.

They sat down on either side of you, with darker string sitting on the chair opposite you. You were boxed in, and it made your fight or flight responses activate. No one said anything, as if not wanting to break the atmosphere. It had your nerves standing on end and had you gripping your bag ready to flee.

As if sensing you ready to run, the man on your right spoke softly.

“We never thought we would find you. We went everywhere, looked everywhere. We never once felt the string tug.” You could almost feel his sadness in your chest, tugging at your heart and making you want to move closer.

Despite the feeling in your chest, you couldn’t help but to feel that these men were familiar somehow, their voices and even now that they were sitting next to you, you thought you recognized them from somewhere.

“Please…say something. Anything.” You hadn’t realized you were sitting there, staring at the man across from you, silent. You didn’t even know what to say. You had pretty much given up the idea of not finding your soulmate after the fourth year of looking.

“I uhm,” You pause, noticing the man attached to the thicker string shudder as you started speaking. “I looked. I’m from a small town in the states and after a couple of years…I just figured fate was messing with me. I didn’t expect to have or meet my soulmate, let alone have more than one.” Your words resonated with them, and thicker string moved closer.

“What is your name?” You knew you were going to go crazy trying to figure out where you heard his voice before.

“Y/n L/n. I’m sorry if my Korean is bad. I’m still learning.” You notice the crinkle to his eye as he smiles underneath his mask. He pulls his mask down as he mouths your name.

That was his mistake, maybe. You recognize his face, and your own immediately widened in surprise. His dark gaze was locked to your own, and he tried to stop you from moving. He reached out quickly and gripped your hand in his own, the string pulling on your finger had entangled with his, as if ensuring you would bond.

You watched as he nodded to the other two, your string pulling as they moved their hands to move their masks slowly, giving you a couple of seconds before pulling them back up. You almost choked on your own saliva when you realized just who was sitting next to you.

You were sitting with Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Min Yoongi. You were connected to three members of your favorite band, with Min Yoongi being the one on the other end of the thicker, dark red string. His hand still gripping onto yours.

“No…It’s not possible. This has to be a joke. There is no way they could be connected to me.” You whisper under your breath, unaware that Jimin and Taehyung could hear you.

“Please. It’s not a joke. Why would you think that?” Jimin’s tone curious yet a little upset, the tugging at your heart making you rub at your chest with your other hand.

“I’m sorry. You don’t need to be stuck with me. I’m sure you probably are happy with your life the way it is. You could find someone so much better than me.” You apologize to the three men, not seeing the panic crossing their features as you try to tug your hand from Yoongi’s.

“What are you talking about?” Taehyung spoke up, moving to hold the hand still rubbing at your chest.

“You are our soulmate. There is no one better than you. Please, just let us go somewhere else, we can talk some more.” That was, unfortunately, the last thing on your mind as you panicked. You truly thought that they deserved someone else. That fate truly played a cruel joke on you, binding you to a couple of the men who helped you through every hard time.

“I can’t. That will just give me hope and I don’t think I could handle that.” You shake your head, trying to get them to understand. But they didn’t.

Yoongi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You didn’t feel like you deserved them, deserved their bond. You thought that they deserved better, and it broke his heart. He wanted to know what was going through your head, needed to know who planted these thoughts so he could smack them. You were all they wanted; all they needed.

“I’m sorry. I uhm, I need to go.” You yanked your hands from their grip, almost falling back into your chair as you moved away from them. You were quick, dodging their hands and probably causing a bit of a scene as you ran from the café, trying to get back to the store where you hoped Lindsey would still be.

You could feel something tearing at your chest, the pain ricocheting as you tried not to sob.

Pain. Rejection. Hurt.

The need to go back to them tugging at your pinky, furthering the feelings in your chest.

You moved past the store after not spotting your red headed friend, scrambling to get your phone out of your bag.

“Where are you?” You choked out as you tried to quiet the sobs coming out.

“I’m waiting at the car. Are you okay? You sound like you’re crying. What happened?” She began to throw question after question at you, but you couldn’t even hear her through your heart pounding in your chest.

“Just please start the car, I’m almost there.” You answer back before ending the call. You could hear footsteps behind you, a couple of them as you maneuvered yourself through the crowd and out to the parking lot.

“Miss please! Wait.” Someone yelled after you, making you begin to run to where the Uber waited. You throw yourself into the car, almost landing on Lindsey as you did so.

“Please drive.” You ask the woman in the driver’s seat, who promptly pushed on the gas and drove away from the pick-up area before the large looking men could get to the car.

“Um, please tell me you didn’t just steal from a store. Orange would not look good on you.” Lindsey broke the tense atmosphere, referencing the color that prisoners wear within the states.

“I charge extra for getaways.” The woman driver spoke up, causing laughter to break out from everyone.

“No uhm, I met my soulmates.” Your words ended the laughter, Lindsey looking at you in shock.

“That bad, huh? No wonder you needed a getaway car.” Your uber driver spoke again, making you nod, looking out the window like you were in a sad music video.

“More like too good to be true.” You whisper to yourself, looking down at the strings attached to your finger.

Fate could be so cruel.

-*-*-

“So, tell me what happened again?” Lindsey asked for the third time, and you knew it was because she was trying to make you regret every decision you’ve ever made.

“I don’t know. I panicked to the extreme. I told them they deserved better and that I practically wasn’t worthy of them.” You had your head in your hands, knees up to your chest as you shook your head.

“Why would I say that? It’s not like they were going to accept the bond anyways?” You muttered only to be hit over the head by another shoe.

“Ow! What the heck Linds?” You scream at your friend, who was holding the shoe up again, ready to hit you for the second time. You held your hands to the back of your head, protecting you from the oncoming assault.

“You are stupid and when you are being stupid, sometimes you need a manual restart.” Lindsey states with no emotion, before hitting you again.

“I’m not a car or a computer Lindsey!” You rip the shoe from her hands, making her lunge for the other one.

“Well then, don’t act stupid and I won’t hit you.”

“I’m not being stupid.” You mumble back, pouting as you bring your hands to your chest,

“Babes, you are. You literally told your own soulmates upon meeting them that you didn’t belong with them, as if fate didn’t match you herself.” You cringed, knowing that’s exactly what happened.

You groan as you lay back into the back of the couch. You know you were being impulsive and blunt when you met them, your fight or flight responses kicking in, but you couldn’t, wouldn’t take it back. You knew you were right. You didn’t belong with them.

Everyone knew that BTS were a bonded group. It was a huge deal when it was announced, especially before their enlistment. Army was rallying together to make sure they were put together within the same unit.

You being bonded with three members would tear everything apart. And given the thicker red string attached to Yoongi, you knew something was different with your bond. You didn’t know what, but you felt that it would ruin whatever bonds he had with the others.

They were happy together. They had been bonded for over a decade, in a relationship for just as long and you couldn’t interfere in that. You would be the awkward outsider they would be forced to have contact with. You didn’t want that.

“Here is what we are going to do. We are going to go to the concert tomorrow. We are going to have fun celebrating your birthday. And we are going to make sure you see your men again. Ahh! Don’t interrupt me.” Lindsey pointed her finger at you when you moved to open your mouth.

“They are your men, and I would bet my soul that the entire group is connected to your string.” You rolled your eyes, receiving another shoe to the head.

“They’re not even gonna want to see me after what happened. They probably think that I don’t want them now.” You take the other shoe from her grasp, not wanting the concussion she was bound to give you if she continued.

“Didn’t you say they looked everywhere for you? Didn’t Taehyung say they wanted you? Honey, I’m sure if they said it, then they want you.” You wish you could be as sure of their feelings as Lindsey was. You thought that they didn’t want you or wouldn’t want you once they got to know you. They would see how plain you really were and reject you.

“Can we just drop it, please.” You were now overwhelmed and exasperated, practically digging the palm of your hands into your eye sockets.

“Fine. But once you bond with them, then I can say “I told you so” and you owe me some cool merch.” You hear her walk to her room and close the door.

You had been going over what happened last night, practically the entire day. Ruminating over every single thing. You couldn’t get over the way Yoongi looked at you when you ripped your hand away. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the panic in Jimin’s eyes as you shot up out of your chair.

You were so out of it that even your host teacher questioned you. She had taken you aside between classes and asked if you were okay and if you needed to go home early. You had assured her that nothing was wrong, that you just couldn’t sleep the night before, and received a slow nod in return.

Tomorrow, your students had planned a ‘surprise’ party for you, and then you would be able to go home, courtesy of your host teacher who made sure you had gotten the afternoon off. It would be the first birthday you had away from home, and it made you a little sad. You always spent the day with your mom, doing your tradition of getting coffee and going window shopping where she would inevitably buy you a new shirt.

But now, you would spend it with your students, and then at a concert where your soulmates would be performing, slightly hoping they wouldn’t figure out you were there. But also, secretly wishing they did see you.

You secretly hoped they did want you. Despite everything you were thinking. You didn’t care who your soulmate was, you just wanted to be wanted, for once. You hadn’t felt that before, from any kind of romantic endeavor you’ve tried to pursue.

You wanted to know what that bond felt like, the red string becoming knotted with the other end, keeping your soul entirely bonded with the one fate tied you to. It was always something you thought about. But now seemed entirely too impossible given who fate decided to cruelly tie you to.

-*-*-

“Do you think she bought this to go to our concert?” Jimin asked his mates, holding up the shopping bag you left at the table, the single BTS shirt and pants held within.

Once they got home after running after you with some of their security, they rushed to tell the rest of their bonded group what happened. They all agreed that they needed to find you, convince you that you were more than enough for them. It hurt them a lot to know that you thought you weren’t worthy of being with them.

But no one was as hurt as Yoongi was, who hadn’t stopped looking at his own red string since he realized you were gone. All they had was your name and the shopping bags you left behind.

“We can’t assume that, Minnie.” Namjoon said as he paced the kitchen, making Jin, who was stress baking, freak out as he almost knocked over a tray of cookies.

Jimin glanced over to Yoongi, and then at his own string leading out the door and to you. None of them had slept that night, all worried over finding you. They spent countless hours looking for you on social media, hoping to find any inkling of information on you. All they could find was a couple old Instagram posts from when you were a teenager. Nothing that would lead them to you now.

“We can’t assume she didn’t.” Hoseok spoke up from his spot next to Jungkook, both watching their soulmates stress in their own ways. Jungkook had just gotten back from the gym, sweat and all before curling up next to Hoseok. He could notice the red eyes of his younger soulmate, hating the fact that he was crying.

“Let’s just assume she is going to the concert tomorrow. What would we even do about it?” Taehyung asked the group, everyone pausing in their step as the question sunk in.

“Well, the ticket would have to be associated with a name. We can always make sure that the people who take her ticket alert us if she showed, what her seat number is.” Namjoon started, his thoughts moving miles per hour as he tried to think of ways he could make sure you were theirs before the night ended.

They waited so long for you and they weren’t going to let you leave just because you thought you weren’t good enough for them.

“If she doesn’t already have front row, we upgrade her ticket.” Jin proposed getting nods of approval from everyone.

“We bring her backstage after the concert. Have a member of our personal security stand by her at all times.” Yoongi spoke up this time, his instincts taking over. Yoongi was protective, maybe even slightly possessive of his soulmates, and you were no exception. In fact, Namjoon theorized it would be more so with you, given you were his special bond partner.

Each of the members have a thicker, red sting connected to their main bond member. Within bigger soulgroups, always with an even number of people, there will always be two members who have a special bond. They will be ultimately closer to their bond partner, romantically, physically, spiritually. It gives you someone to connect with, to always have by your side.

This doesn’t mean your other string bonds are any less significant. Fate just wanted her bonds to never feel alone, which can sometimes happen within big groups.

And Yoongi had been waiting for you for a long time.

He wouldn’t let you slip away again.

-*-*-

“You know, we would have been there already if you had an outfit picked out and didn’t spend like, six hours choosing a single top.” Lindsey chided you as you waited in the line to enter the stadium.

It was finally the day of the concert and you were literally shaking in your shoes with nerves. You didn’t know what to expect and it was driving you crazy. You couldn’t find the clothes you bought for the concert so you spent almost your entire day trying to figure something else out, settling for a simple black t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“I know. I know. I just can’t believe I already lost the shopping bag.” You shake your head before moving forward.

It took another fifteen minutes before you were at the front of the line, giving your ticket to the man at the head of the line. When you handed it to him, you noticed for a split second that his eyes widened, before smiling at you and printing out your stub.

“Thank you. Enjoy the show.” You nodded at the man, a little suspicious but nonetheless moved forward through security. You looked at the ticket stub while you waited for Lindsey, growing confused as you looked at the seats.

You were now entirely in the front row, only feet away from the main stage. Originally, you were about three rows back and to the side. Something had to have gone wrong. A misprint or something.

“Hey Linds? What seat are you?” You ask once she gets to your side, the both of you beginning the walk to your seats.

“Uh, row 1A, seat 3.” She read aloud, now standing shocked with you as you were seat 4.

“What if—” You cut her off.

“No. There is no way. Don’t even think about it.” You knew she was going to say that they knew you were here. But it’s not possible.

“It has to be a coincidence.” You stated, reassuring yourself but making your friend grin at you.

“Yeah, a coincidence all right.” She drawled out as she grabbed your hand and dragged you to your seats. She wasn’t going to complain if your soulmates decided to upgrade your seats. She was just along for the obvious ride.

It wasn’t your first concert, but you were amazed all the same as you looked around the stadium. It was an open stadium, and the stage was immense. You could see the butter music video playing in the background as different groups of armies sang along.

The stadium was slowly but surely beginning to fill as you were only minutes from the sold-out show starting. You gripped your army bomb close to your chest as you sat down in your seat. Now that you were there, and only inches from the gate that separated you from the stage and security team, you could feel yourself begin to shake.

It was like you could feel eyes on you, watching you. You felt immensely perceived and you didn’t like it. Looking past Lindsey who was chatting with the girl next to her, talking about their biases, you noticed a group of security just a couple of feet away, talking about something that seemed important before you realized they kept glancing at you every so often.

Now you had an idea of what was going on.

“How do they know…?” You whispered to yourself as the lights went down and the concert started, the boys walking on stage and going right into their intro. You couldn’t even focus on the stage as you looked over to the security member now stationed only a foot away from where you stood.

Lindsey noticed your stiffness and held your hand that wasn’t holding the army bomb.

“Hey, we can go if you want. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable the entire time.” Lindsey could see you fighting with yourself. All she wanted for you was to be happy, to see that you deserved everything good in life, but you were too stuck in the past. You were caught in the old relationships, filled with name calling and blaming.

She hoped she didn’t push you too far.

“No, I’m—I’m okay. I just need a second.” You squeezed her hand before sitting down and moving to open the bag you brought. It had your little hand lotion, something you always used when you were anxious.

Rubbing the shea butter scented lotion on your hands, you let your muscle memory take hold, giving you nothing to think about. At times like this, you needed something to do where you didn’t have to think, didn’t have to be in control of everything.

You were sitting for a couple of minutes, trying to calm your breathing so you could enjoy the rest of the concert. You didn’t even know, as you had your head down, that your assigned security member was looking at you, growing worried. Yoongi was also glancing your way whenever he could, trying not to be suspicious.

Your safety was important to them, and he didn’t want to start something with army when he couldn’t explicitly protect you. He had of course been notified that you had come, right after you had your ticket scanned. They all knew where you would be seated, somewhere they could easily find you and watch over you.

Due to the connection and type of string between you two, Yoongi’s instincts were in overdrive. He was naturally possessive and dominant, and it bothered him that he couldn’t be near you during the concert. He had to perform. It helped that he knew you would be in his arms by the end of the night, he guessed.  

-*-*-

No matter what you did, you couldn’t get your body to calm down. You didn’t even notice the now seven strings leading to the men on stage. Your body seemed to be in an uncontrolled state, your breathing erratic and your heartbeat unstable. You couldn’t tell if you were having an anxiety attack, a panic attack, or both. Maybe even something else entirely.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You tell Lindsey before you are moving through the crowd, away from the stage and towards the way you came in, remembering that you passed a bathroom. You were practically stumbling, a few people you passed asking if you were okay.

You threw the bathroom door open when you go to it, not caring if anyone else was in there. You were struggling to breath at this point, the pain in your chest excruciating as you tried to move even more forward. It seemed you were stuck at the door, a tugging on your finger keeping you from moving any further.

Looking down, you saw red; seven rest strings leading behind you. A cry left your lips at the sight, the number of strings hitting you and making you realize that Lindsey was right. You used the wall for balance as you practically fell to the floor, black spots dancing in your vision.

A cold laughter came from your lips, filling the empty space of the bathroom as you sat in front of the now closed door.

Of course, you thought.

You watched as the strings attached to your finger tugged again, trying to bring you to the other end. Tried to bring you closer to the fate you were determined to hide from.

There were so many people more deserving of them. How could there not be. You wouldn’t fit in with them. You would only ruin what they have, so you couldn’t understand why fate was so determined.

Your body was now refusing to move, leaving you stranded on the floor in front of the bathroom. Looks like even fate didn’t want you to escape.

“Hey, are you okay?” You see a pair of sneakers walk into your vision before the person bends down. The man seemed about your age, with a nice smile and glasses covering his freckled nose.

“Uh, not really. Fate is an ass.” Your sarcasm makes the man chuckle. You watch as he sits down in front of you, his back leaning against the opposite wall. Its only now you notice the badge around his neck.

“Well, Miss, do you need me to call the medical staff? It doesn’t seem like you can really use your neck there.” He at least seems a little concerned, even more so when you reply, “Or my legs, good sir.”

“Well, it seems like I will be carrying you over to medical then, doesn’t it.” He gets up, moving quickly to place an arm behind your back and one under your slightly bent legs before picking you up.

He starts walking down a long hallway before turning the corner.

“So, running from a soulmate, I see.” His voice is questioning and you are almost certain it was accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

“More like trying to.” He doesn’t say anything else, only hums at your answer to which you were thankful. He could see you didn’t want to talk about it.

You were about to turn another corner when someone called out to you.

“Hong! Have you seen a woman—” He cuts himself off when the person carrying you turns around, you in his arms. You are able to see the man as the security guard you guessed was assigned to you.

You watched as his eyes widened considerably before he starts forward.

“What happened? Oh no. The boys are going to kill me if something happened to her.” The guard, Hyunsoo, mutters loud enough for the both of you to hear as he tries to take you from the man, Hong’s, arms.

“What boys? What are you talking about.” Hong asks, moving back from the guard, keeping you secure in his arms. “I was just about to take her to the medical room. She is experiencing the soul tug and was stuck to the floor in front of the bathroom.”

Ahh, you think, that makes sense now.

The soul tug happens as it is intended; to force the bond holders to make the connection. It makes the string connecting you taught and keeps you from fleeing from the bond, like you were trying to do. However, it only happens when one of the people within the bond have already accepted it. Meaning, the boys have already accepted the bond.

Which explains the pain in your chest and the way your body movement just shut down, rendering you unable to move. You guess the string only gave you so much leeway before it brought you back.

“If Mr. Min saw you carrying her, you would need the medical room.” The guard’s words were blunt, but a little worrying.

“Mr. Min? You don’t mean…” Hong visibly paled as he looked down at you, his mind making the connection you didn’t want to say. His grip loosens as Hyunsoo takes you from his arms.

“I don’t need to remind you of the NDA you signed, do I, Hongmin?” The man who found you shook his head quickly, before looking down at you once more and walking away. You could almost see his body shaking as he did so.

Still unable to move your neck, you grumble into the guard’s chest.

“So, how’s it goin?” You ask, your brain’s defense system seeing sarcasm as its only choice.

Next Part

[giulliadella]

Speculative Biology of Euclydeans (and Bill Cipher) part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Euclydean society and Bill Cipher's disability

Reading the first part is highly recommended before reading this one, since in that part I explained how Euclydia functions as a dimension.

This part is going to talk about disability, discrimination and eugenics of geometric shapes, so tw if you're sensitive to that.

Society

Euclydeans were intelligent, sapient organisms that lived in a complex society. From Bill directly, we find out that they had schools, jobs, families, social structure and developed medicine. This makes them seem very much like humans here on Earth.

We know that Bill had a family, his mother and father, however, we don't know whether those two were married. So I can't tell you whether the institution of marriage even existed in Euclydia. Bill never talks about marriage, so I'm inclined to believe that they didn't really have wedding vows, but rather, a pair would stay together because they loved each other and for their children.

However, Bill does talk about divorce. He sees his falling out with Stanford as divorcing, so it's pretty clear that Euclydean "marriage" consisted of a pair being together and deciding to spend their life together, but if they wanted to break up, that was called a divorce and they probably had disputes over who gets house and kids.

And when we're speaking of love, Bill claims that he can't see the difference between love and fear in humans. This is kind of true: both intense feelings of love and fear activate the sympathetic nervous system which causes the heart to beat faster, deepens and quickens the breathing and makes us all sweaty and flushed. Love in humans causes the same things to happen as fight or flight response and Bill is too dense to accept that there is a difference.

This, however, tells us that in Euclydeans, feelings of love do not activate their equivalent of fight or flight. Bill is a person very prone to angry outbursts at slightest provocation. But Ford can do a lot more to him than any other person before he gets angry. This means that love in Euclydeans is a soothing feeling. Love makes them feel calmer and safer. Hell, Stanford's mindscape was Bill's safe space. Now, of course, love in Euclydeans isn't all about calm - they also get excited. Excitement upon seeing the one you love, but expressed as happiness, with most likely slower heartbeat. Again, loved ones in Euclydeans are seen as a safe space, a little lighthouse in a stormy sea to hang onto.

Euclydeans also express love in a similar way to mammals: they bring gifts (Bill catching rats and arranging them to form Ford's name), they want attention from the other person and their affection, they share food and drinks and overall want to spend time and have fun with their companion.

But when it comes to anger, fear and joy I don't see any significant differences between humans and Euclydeans. Sadness is a tough one, because Bill expresses it by not expressing it. This man is in so much denial that he could flood the Nile. However, distress in Bill is more or less the same as in humans. He also gets drunk after break up and acts as a drunk person would. This tells me that sadness is expressed somewhat similarly in Euclydeans as in humans with maybe some tweaks here and there.

Bill is obsessed with The Great Gatsby, so much so that he dedicated a chunk of his book to literally citing the second chapter of it. This is a very concerning behavior (but, to be fair, most of his behaviors are). However, I believe that his obsession comes from a feeling of nostalgia and familiarity. When I look at Bill's attire I see a guy wearing a fancy hat and a bow tie which were a staple for evening dress of 1920s gentlemen. He also sports a cane, which they also wore. I can't remember much from The Great Gatsby and I'm too lazy to read it again, but it does take place in 1920s America. So, maybe the society Bill was born into resembled that time period.

If that was the case, the societal structures and certain expectations would have been rigid. Euclydia is very much based on Abbott's Flatland and, while that world is a critique of 1800s Britain, it depicts a very sad and bleak society where everyone has to fit in a role that was determined by their shape. In Flatland, Triangles were the lowest class, with isosceles being the lowest of the low and used as slaves and soldiers, while equilateral Triangles (like Bill) could rise in the society and perform the roles of merchants. Scalene Triangles were considered abominations and were killed as kids.

I don't think that Euclydia was exactly as Flatland. However, some Gravity Falls material point towards triangles being lower class citizens. I sadly don't have Journal 3, but I know about the page where Stanford goes to a second dimension and he talks about how Triangle people are low class citizens and Circle people are high class citizens. This is very similar to Flatland, but what about Bill?

Well, Bill was probably from a lower middle class family. Him wearing oversized shoes that were probably bought on sale or given by someone whose child had grown out of them, speaks about them being kinda poor. Bill was also bullied by his peers at school, but notably by rhombuses and trapezoids. These shapes were one class above him, because they had four sides. Better off kids bullying a poorer, disabled kid is a tale as old as time.

The eugenics policies in Euclydia were probably much less strict than in Flatland. However, if they were anything like laws controlling disabled people in 1920s USA, then Bill and his mother were probably forcibly sterilized because of his mutation.

2. Bill Cipher's disability

Bill was born with a disability - well, to be fair it was more akin to superpower - of being able to see into the "third dimension". Bill could see outside of Euclydean borders because he had his eye placed on the front of his face and not on the side, like other Euclydeans. This allowed him to see the stars of the surrounding universes. (please check part 1 of this analysis where you have detailed sketch of Euclydia in relation to other universes).

However, because of his mutation, even though he had much broader view of the universe, Bill was considered legally blind by his peers. Because his eye was on the front and he could move only sideways, Bill was seeing his home dimension only with his peripheral vision. He could make out basic shapes and colors, but not the details. He probably draws his parents as blue and red triangles because that's how he saw them. He could never see the details of their faces. He could, of course, recognize them by touch, smell and voice, but he could never see them as they could see him.

Bill also behaves a lot like a person with ADHD. Now, I have ADHD and I got that diagnosis when I was SEVENTEEN. My early school years were hell. If Bill does have ADHD, he was probably a problematic child at school and that just added more fuel for his bullies. The lack of control over his emotions and his special interest in stars were definitely a reason for him to get bullied, maybe even more than his disability. There were no schools for special needs children in 1920s USA, which doesn't mean that they didn't exist in Euclydia. But, since little Bill was from a poor family, he didn't get to go those schools if they existed.

Another quirk of his mutation in Euclydia meant that Bill had problems feeding himself. Since Euclydeans use their eye as a mouth, Bill had to eat sideways. Imagine if your mouth was on your back and you had to reach behind to feed. Bill was lucky that his eye was much bigger than other Euclydeans which made his mouth bigger as well. His parents also accommodated his needs - his mom was removing crust from his bread and he was also given his medicine in liquid form.

I made art to explain this more easily:

So, with Bill being bullied and rejected by his society because of his disability (and likely neurodivergency), there was no wonder he wanted to somehow prove himself. Talking about stars and the existence of something outside of Euclydia was considered illegal, but why? Well... stick around for part 5, where I will explain how I believe Bill Cipher accidentally destroyed his entire dimension. It will be fun ;P

@ok1237 and @unoriginal-starwalker I hope you'll enjoy this =D

PS: I hid Dipper and Mabel in the art! Can you find them?

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer

Chapter 1 - Phantom Tokyo

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.

Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. 💜

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist

“You’ve got it from here…Itadori kun.”

Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.

His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like he’d hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books he’d been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heart’s content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voice…

And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

At first, it appears like he’s landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond? 

Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes he’s not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiar…

He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldn’t be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself. 

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face. 

Things weren’t adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing. 

He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasn’t alone, and the thought wasn’t comforting. The energy didn’t match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didn’t know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?

Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that he’s making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.

“It’s rude to chase one with a weapon you know.” A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement. 

All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. There’s a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it. 

Something within him tells him he shouldn’t fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, “What are you? A curse?”

The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. “What am I…Who am I…The question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answer…But I am most definitely not a curse.”

It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. “Put away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm can’t be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.” The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him. 

Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. There’s an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being. 

“I am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.” It answers his question. 

“And where am I?” Nanami asks the shadow. 

“You are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.”

“In between worlds?” The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worlds…had Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood? 

“So…am I…alive? But in another dimension?”

The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. “You are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up here in my realm.”

“I died, and came back to life?” The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. “That makes no sense. People don’t just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahito’s attack should have killed me.”

“It did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.”

Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was just…fantastical…impossible…He had survived Mahito’s attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain. 

“Y/n…” he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya. 

“That’s probably what saved you,” the being said evidently, interrupting Nanami’s thoughts. “Whatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.”

Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/n’s ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadn’t imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least  20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyone’s guess. 

“And I’m in between worlds.” He repeats again, trying to make sure he’s not misunderstanding the conversation.

“Indeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.” Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.

Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. “I thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.”

“It is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldn’t figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions. 

He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that. 

“Does it bother you, that you are alive?” The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. “Most would rejoice at this second chance for life.”

The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadn’t been expecting. “Most people haven’t lived my life. I’ve done enough. I’m tired. I’ve earned the right to a peaceful death.”

“And yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.” Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. “Is that not reason enough? To not want to die?”

Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/n’s energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didn’t seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didn’t want him to die in the way that people didn’t want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldn’t fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair. 

Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because she’d been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasn’t something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud. 

‘Don’t be so cruel Nanami san!’ She’d probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mind’s eye couldn’t picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didn’t think he’d live very long. She hadn’t said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper. 

Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory. 

All the while, the shadow hadn’t wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, “No, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.”

The sorcerer’s head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. “What do you mean, not very long?”

“Well, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? It’s not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and it’s essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although it’s difficult to say when that is.”

“And when it does run out?”

“You’ll die.” The being says simply. “And move on into the next realm. That’s the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.” 

“And it’s unknown when that will happen?”

The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. “A few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.”

“And what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?” Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.

“Well, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.” The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. “Think of it as a vacation before your death.”

It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. “And that’s my only option? To experience my old life before dying?”

“It’s not the only option. You could go back and live.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanami’s eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadn’t even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same time…

“What is it about life that makes you so hesitant?” The purgatory being asks him inquisitively. 

Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasn’t unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didn’t fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery. 

“Is there nothing you would like to return to?” The shadow presses. “Remember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you don’t know what to do with it.”

A sudden memory comes into Nanami’s mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time. 

But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory. 

He sighs and shakes his head. “If I did go back, would it make a difference?” He asks doubtfully. 

The being’s eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. “To one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?”

The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadow’s words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice. 

“How do I get out of here?” 

The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph.  

“I’m so glad you asked.” It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. “Perhaps you might want to let the lady know you’re alive.”

“Must I?” Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation. 

The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. “I’m afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when you’re coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

“And how do I do that?” 

It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. “Listen. I died. Then I was told I wasn’t dead, but I’ll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.”

The purgatory being laughs; it’s an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. “Very well 7:3 Sorcerer. It’s simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person you’re thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.”

The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. “Is that all?” He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice. 

The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. “It really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.” 

Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. “A small object…” His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldn’t make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm. 

The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm. 

Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/n’s neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura. 

“Find her,” he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish. 

Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.

“Message sent. Now, how do I get out of here?”

The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes. 

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

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[linkspooky]

Does it ever frustrate you (like it bothers me), that the heroes and civilians (and many of the fans) have no concept of "the big picture"?

I mean being optimistic is one thing, but the hero kids are going back to class, hero society is being rebuilt and the same structures are getting back in place with barely a question of what might change, if anything will...

Like shouldn't they know by now??!!

Hawks looked into the league of villain's pasts.

Deku was told directly by shigaraki what was wrong with their society in the last war.

There was a whole (plausibly canon) movie revolving around the threat of the quirk singularity, and still nobody cares.

Judging by the recent chapter, the civilians are the same as they always were, or have become even worse in their mindset.

And at least so far, the heroes haven't shown anything concrete in how they plan on doing things from now on, if their actions or beliefs made any real impact.

At this point it really feels like either:

A. The Lov (Toga, shigaraki and some others) make a miracle resurrection/recovery.

or

B.it's the cycle of violence until inevitable extinction...

Do you feel differently or the same?

Hello, friend.

I definitely share your frustrations.

I think this post by Tumblr User BNHAObservations might be onto the type of societal reform that Horikoshi might be going for in this epilogue.

So there's two approaches that you can approach to MHA, and specifically it's endings. BNHAObservations is using Literary Analysis. That is they're not talking about the work in terms of "thing good, thing bad", but rather assuming that everything Horikoshi put into his work is intentional analyzing the themes which Horikoshi is putting forward. What is the theme of MHA and how does Horikoshi demonstrate that theme with characters and events in story?

That's the question to ask if you're taking a literary analysis angle.

(By the way if BNHAObservations sees this I'm not criticizing your post in any way sorry if I give that intention I'm just using it as an example, and also reccomending people read it because it's a good post. This post isn't a response to this post I promise I'm just linking it to provide an opposite point of view from my own).

The second is Literary Criticism. While I prefer Literary Analysis, I've been taking a Lit Crit approach as to late because. My question is not "What is the theme of MHA?" but rather "Does MHA use the tools of storytelling to communicate it's theme to it's audience well?" So, let's discuss how Hori chooses to convey the themes of the fictional world he created.

So as I said BNHA observations has an answer to your question from a literary analysis perspective. The gist being "Horikoshi seems to be suggesting that the improvement to society will come from the public being more involved with stuff like community outreach to assist the heroes, and maybe with Spinner's comic the villains voices will be heard on top of that." Which is a valid perspective and why I linked it.

However, from my literary criticism angle I don't think that particular theme is communicated well by the story. This is why while I think acknowledging the cultural context of the story is an important perspective, it's just one perspective because MHA is still A STORY and it has to use the tools of storytelling to get those messages across. MHA can exist as a piece of cultural commentary and still be confusing about what exactly kind of commentary it wants to make, because it doesn't function as a story.

So here's the literary critcism angle of: Why is it so gosh darned frustrating that the public at large doesn't seem to have changed at all by the ending of MHA?

When you are a writer you can write anything you want. But if you want to write a story that people want to read you have to follow the rules of good storytelling.

There are reasons why storytelling rules exist. A story is a bond between author and reader, readers to other readers. It is a communication between humans and humans work in a certain way.

I'd also argue that literary criticism is something that exists across cultures, like for example I watch Japanese Horror movies with my friends. Japanese Horror movies are very different from american ones because what that culture considers scary is different. However, if I'm watching the movie that has bad lighting and uncreative camera work, and I criticize it on that grounds, I think the rules of what makes good and bad camera work and shot composition work across cultures.

To quote this post:

Storytelling rules are rules of communication. Rules for handling expectations and saying what you intend to say without it being misheard. Rules for tugging at emotions and pulling heartstrings in a good way rather than a bad way. Storytelling rules are lessons learned by authors of the past that failed to communicate what they needed to. They are not that subjective.

So to address your ask finally friend, I believe a lot of audience comes from Horikoshi's inability to get his theme across in his own story with the tools of storytelling, just what he wants to say about the the society that he's created in his fictional world.

The first is the very obvious discrepancy between setup and payoff. As an example I read the Sam Vimes discworld novels, which you could say is copaganda about a good cop who does his job. However, the story is not trying to be a deep analysis about the crimminal system, it's a fantasy story taking place in a deeply corrupt medieval city where the main character is a parody of Dirty Harry. In other words it doesn't bring up any of those deeper issues so I can just read it for what it is, knowing it's kind of dated.

MHA sets up these deeper issues in a way that calls to be addressed. It's made clear several times in both Shigaraki's walk, and his speech during the first war arc that there's already enough heroes and yet problems in this society persist.

Theme is basically the story asking a question and then providing an answer. The question is: If there are so many heroes then why are there so many people who don't get saved?

It seemed like the answer we are building towards is that heroes need to change the way they deal with villains, hence why everything post War Arc focuses on the main trio trying to save their villains without just putting them down. You have Twice's death at Hawk's hands, and the question of why heroes only save the good victims. You have the parallels between Shigaraki and Eri. You have Deku say "ONE FOR ALL IS NOT A POWER FOR KILLING."

Hori is an author who makes choices and he chose to deliberately bring up these issues and not address them, and that makes the story feel unsatisfying to read because serialized stories hook the audience by promising future development.

Read this story because you want to see how the Todorokis will find a way to unite their family. Read this story because you want to see how Bakugo and Deku will become the greatest heroes, by saving by winning and winning by saving.

Twice's death, Toga's question about if Uraraka is going to kill her, Shigaraki's walk, OFA is not a power for killing these are all things that mattered in the story and then suddenly didn't. If you promise a story is going to address something and then you renege on that promise the audience will find it unsatisfying. If I'm reading a murder mystery and it ends with everyone eating cake and the murder hasn't been solved (and that's not the point of the story) I will feel like the story has wasted it's time.

So it's not just a case of "MHA was never going to be a story of deep societal reform because it's a shonen jump manga" but these themes are brought up, and then never addressed again.

Which is where we get my second layer of criticism, the massive tonal whiplash. My Hero Academia seems like a story of how kids are going to grow up to be better heroes by saving their villains, until it's not.

My Hero Academia is not a tragedy, until it becomes a tragedy in the last five minutes. Every single person thought Shigaraki was going to be saved somehow, until he wasn't. Everyone thought that Twice's death was going to be the last death in the league of villains, because the kids were going to realzie they have to find another way than killing the villains, until it wasn't. The audience isn't stupid for thinking this was going to happen, that's what Horikoshi was foreshadowing in his story until he threw it out.

The worst part is the tragic tone doesn't work, because it's poorly written as a tragedy. Greek Tragedy revolves around the fall of the heroes (this is a japanese work and japanese theatre is different, but Superheroes are inspired by the greeks). If the villains failed to get saved, then it should be a failure on the heroes part, it should be devastating on the heroes.

Hawks failed to save Twice but he's fine, Deku failed to save Shigaraki (OFA is not a power for killing) but he's fine, the only hero who seems personally affected by their loss is Shoto who is losing his brother. If this is a tragedy then heroes should be the ones to fall because tragedies are about the tragic flaws of the heroes.

However, we get this tonal inconsistency instead where no consequences stick to the heroes and every single bad thing that happens to them gets magically done away with by plot convenience.

So Hori has shown that he can just handwave away whatever kind of grievous injury he wants, and yet he still chooses to go out of his way to unnecessarily punish the villains for their actions, in the manga that's supposed to be about saving them.

And even if we go with the "Well, their hearts were saved" approach, the manga fails to demonstrate how their hearts were saved. Naruto, a manga running in the same magazine, does this so much better with characters like Obito.

Look at Obito's sendoff in the manga. A character who also is responsible for directly harming the main characters and who went to war with the entire world.

Obito has a dream sequence where he realizes he could have always gone home and still tried to become Hokage and he wasn't beyond redemption. He lives long enough to assist Naruto in the fight against the final villain. He gets called awesome by Naruto for trying to become Hokage because they shared the same dream.

His last moments in the manga are Rin the girl he loved comforting him in the afterlife, by saying she was watching his suffering all along. His literal last action is to lend his power to Kakashi his best friend in order to fight together once more against the villain.

Shigaraki on the other hand doesn't even get the majority of screentime in his own death chapter, he gets two pages compared to AFO's five.

It's not just the fact they get unsympathetic deaths, the story also bends over to show that they deserved it. Toga doesn't want to accept prison for her actions so it's okay for her to commit suicide even though she's a young girl. Shigaraki didn't want to give up being the hero to the villains, so it's okay that Deku didn't save him.

People are discussing whether or not Spinner should be held accountable for not saving Shigaraki because of his character flaw of deciding to not think about things and go with the flow, but that ignores the fact that once again Spinner is not the main character. Yes, characters should be held accountable for their flaws, but the protagonists are the one who should be held the most accountable because the story is not about them.

Spinner and Deku both failed to save Shigaraki, but let's look at their punishment. Spinner is in prison for the rest of his life probably, almost became a Nomu, and has survivor's guilt for being unable to save Shigaraki in time due to his own actions.

Deku... has to live with the fact he killed Shigarki and will "never forget it."

If we are going for a tragic ending, and Deku is the center of that tragedy, than Deku should be the one suffering for his failures. Deku should be held just as, if not more accountable than Spinner.

Spinner is held accountable and that makes him a good character - but to what end? I know what it's to slide blame away from Deku, which is also why Spinner randomly says something racist at the end of his scene.

So in all it's not frustrating because MHA isn't some deep, thoughtful criticism of Japanese society. It's frustrating because it violates the rules of setup and payoff, and it also is extremely tonally inconsistent.

A common response to this is I've seen is "You should just like MHA for what it is, and not what you want it to be."

However my underlying problem is that MHA as a story seems to be very confused about what kind of story it is. That confusion shows in Horikoshi constantly throwing out his own foreshadowing, and the wild swings in tone from tragedy to a story about optimistic young kids who are going to be the best heroez eva. Hori can tell whatever story he wants, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's telling it well.

As I said Hori's indecisiveness shows by this point in the story. I've already discussed this with Class1aKids but it really seems like Horikoshi is setting up two things with scissors-kun:

He'll either be A) A new villain that Deku and the kids prevent from becoming the next AFO or B) a resurrected Shigaraki who can save the rest of his league and fulfill his role as hero of the villains.

At this point there's equal foreshadowing for both, and this is my personal theory but it truly seems like Hori is gauging audience reaction to see which path he should take. If the japanese audience is satisfied with the villains "hearts" being saved, or if he should bring Shigaraki back to let the villains end on a more hopeful note.

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

INTO THE ARCHIVES

<<<[PREVIOUS CHAPTER]>>>

The scene unfolds in the serene world of Cybertron, a vast metallic underground city that spans both the ceilings and the ground. All is tranquil, with the sun's rays filtering through the cracks, illuminating the world's surface.

"[CONCERNED] [FRIGHTENED]" A familiar, monotonous voice spoke as a trans-mech followed a blue and red-color-themed mech. "[INQUIRY] Are you sure this is a good idea, Orion Pax?" The hesitation in the voice was palpable, amplifying the gravity of the decision and the thrill of the impending risk.

"It'll be fine, (Y/Cyb/n)! Just give me your servo!"

A familiar figure, the (opt/c) trans-mech, looked down at the city below with a wary gaze. Ever since the explosion incident three demi-cycles ago, a catastrophic event that shook the very foundations of Cybertron, he had developed a fear of heights. The thought of being in a high place, without the safety of a secure structure or the assurance of being caught if he fell, made him uneasy.

"[EXASPERATION] Why did I ever agree to go along with you, Orion Pax?" (Y/Cyb/n) voiced his complaint, his emotion reflexively escaping him. His left optic, once a vibrant optic, was now a screen with a pupil that could only change shapes and colors.

He couldn't see through his broken optic, but it at least conveyed parts of his emotions, like a mood ring. Right now, it is a jagged, lopsided, dark gray triangle, representing fear.

Orion chuckled faintly as he looked at his scared friend. He then softly and gently grabbed his servo. "C'mon. You'll be fine." Orion tried to reassure him, his servo gently pulling him closer to the edge. "I'll promise to catch you if you fall, but I know you won't." He reassured him again, giving him a small, warm smile, reinforcing their trust and camaraderie.

"[SHEEPISH NOD]" (Y/Cyb/n) reflexively spoke with a soft smile. The pupil changed into a vibrant, lime-green crescent moon color.

"That's the spirit, buddy!" He smiled, giving him an affectionate rub on his friend's helm, which his left pupil shifted rapidly between a heart with soft pastel colors. "Come on, just through this vent, and we're in the Hall of Records." He quickly cut down the circle-shaped vent, breaking it off.

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*CLANK!!*

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Orion broke through the vent from the ceiling, dropping down to his pedes and narrowly avoiding alarm laser traps. "[SHUFFLE] [SHUFFLE] [SHUFFLE]..." (Y/Cyb/n) followed suit, carefully climbing down while he reflexively whispered the action multiple times before he landed on the ground safely.

The Hall of Records, a place of great importance in Cybertron, was quiet and empty. It was filled with data pads and other items, but nobody was in sight. The room was dimly lit, but it was still easy to see. It was also filled with rows upon rows of archives, some with data pads and others empty. Metal boxes of some history records lay everywhere.

Orion furrowed his optics as he shuffled through the archives, his determination evident in his focused search for what he needed to find. "Okay, let's see what we got here." He muttered, taking a few different servo-sized colored chips. "I've seen that. I've seen that." He shuffled through some of the chips he had already seen while he walked to a table. He had broken into the Halls of Record several times before, and this was probably his 1000th time.

"Ah..." He found an archive he hadn't viewed from the collection. "What's this about?" He placed the chip into the slot to see what record it had.

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*Click!*

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*Ring!*

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A high-pitched sound rang out when he saw a glitchy hologram displayed on the table. The flickering and unstable hologram depicted a scene from the past that held the key to a long-buried secret Orion was trying to find.

In a panic, Orion dropped the rest of the chips onto the table, spamming whatever controls were available to try and turn off the hologram. "[UNAMUSED]" (Y/Cyb/n) instinctively spoke his emotion, the flat white line in his left optic flickering. He reached over and took out the archive chip from its slot.

The hologram immediately turned off. Orion looked behind to see if anyone or anything had heard the noise.

Silence consumed the room. The silence was deafening. The room was still devoid of all life except for the two. Orion sighed softly, shaking his helm from side to side.

"That was close..." He muttered, looking around the room for nearby security cameras that might have spotted them. But there was nothing, only a pair of empty pedestals and several shelves.

"It's a good thing that nobody's around,"He continued, facing his companion. "Are you all right? Are you nervous?"

"[AFFIRMATIVE NOD]" (Y/Cyb/n) nodded. "This has a little dust, thus why it didn't work." His left pupil was now a chain of gears with a soft and vibrant blue color mixed in. "[LIGHT BLOW]" He spoke reflexively, blowing the dust off before reinserting the chip.

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*CLICK!*

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The hologram reactivated again, displaying the history it held about the origin. "::At the dawn of time, there was our gracious and powerful creator: Primus.::" The audio spoke to them. "::To protect our universe, he sacrificed his life force, transforming himself into our planet: Cybertron.::"

(Y/Cyb/n)'s optics sparkled with interest as he watched the hologram illustrate the story with amazing visual effects.

Orion watched the hologram with intense interest, his optics wide with amazement. The hologram displays Primus's story of the creation of Cybertron. He had heard the story before, but seeing it displayed in hologram form was quite impressive. He glanced over at (Y/Cyb/n), who was watching the hologram with awe and curiosity.

He chuckled at (Y/Cyb/n)'s expression before returning to the hologram. The way Primus had sacrificed his life force to become the planet they lived on was awe-inspiring.

"::From within Cybertron's core, Primus birthed the first Transformers known as the Primes: the most powerful transformers designated to guide and protect future generations.::"

Orion was practically sitting through the hologram to get a closer look. "::To assist them, Primus created an entity of great power. The Matrix of Leadership.::"The hologram showed the ancient artifact.

"The Matrix. Okay, good, come on. Keep going." He mumbled, gesturing the hologram to play the record faster.

"::With the Matrix in the Primes' possession, Cybertron's natural power source, Energon, flowed in abundance, sustaining life across the planet.::"

While the record continued to play, they failed to notice an alert drone catching them and alerting the security guards.

"::For generations, there was peace and prosperity until the Matrix of Leadership was lost, causing Energon to no longer flow.::"

The record ended there. Orion Pax scoffed in annoyance at how it ended. "Ugh! Why does every legend of the Matrix have to end right there?" He shuffled through the other archive chips. "One of these has to say what happened."

"::Halt, criminals! Prepared to be detained!::"

An automated voice was heard behind them, and a security drone with a red light on it flew to the two. Orion stepped back nervously, grabbing (Y/Cyb/n)'s servo as the drone repeated. "::Halt, criminals! Prepared to be detained!::"

"[ANNOYED]" (Y/Cyb/n)'s left pupil flickered to an orange line with intense heartbeats. He held up a servo at the drone.

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*PING!*

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A light-pink holographic screen appeared on his servo, and an emblem of a white geat encased in a square appeared.

"::Halt—"

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*Blip!*

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*ZRRT!*

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The drone malfunctioned quickly after an outline of a pink gear appeared on the drone, overriding the systems and commands.

Orion's optics widened in surprise and fascination as he watched the security drone malfunction and fall to the floor, it's systems overrun by the gear-shaped emblem on (Y/Cyb/n)'s servo. "Woah..." He whispered, in awe of his friend's ability. "Nice."

"No problem."

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*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

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An alarm blared out loudly. He quickly regained his composure, realizing they were still in danger. "Come on, we need to get out of here now!" He said urgently, tugging on (Y/Cyb/n)'s servo. He dragged the trans-mech alone when they began running to the front door.

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*PSSH!*

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Unfortunately, the door they were heading to opened quickly. Orion Pax made a sharp turn to the left, running in the other direction. However, the two larger security transformers caught up to them, landing on the ground with heavy thuds due to their jet propulsion.

"Freeze!"

"Get down!"

Orion Pax froze as flashlights were on them, knowing they were caught red-handed. Despite the tense situation, he tried playing it light-hearted. "Oh, hello, guys. Yeah- I am so glad you're here." He turned to face them, walking backward as they approached forward menacingly.

"Which way is the exit? Haha- we must've taken a wrong turn." The blue and red miner pulled (Y/Cyb/n) behind him, who shuffled nervously while whispering "shuffle" repeatedly due to his defect.

"It's that defective mining bot, Oreon Pix." remarked the security bot with the golden visor and mask, casting a disdainful glance at his counterpart, the security bot with a magenta visor and mask.

"Orion Pax." the blue and red miner corrected. As the security transformers advanced with an air of menace, Orion attempted to maintain a facade of nonchalance. However, it was clear that they saw through his pretense of innocence.

The guard with the golden mask fixed his gaze on (Y/Cyb/n), who was carefully shuffling backward. "Well, well, if it isn't the most defective among defectives:(Mis pron/Cyb/n)," he sneered, deliberately mispronouncing the Cybertronian's name.

Almost everyone knows about (Y/Cyb/n) but keeps it to themselves. He was labeled and considered "the most defective" of everyone—practically, almost society!

His left optic was damaged severely, making him see his left side blind permanently. However, it was replaced with a black screen with a functioning pupil that can change shapes and colors to express emotions and their intensity but not let him see.

Finally, he has a strange bug in his system because, unlike everyone else, he conveys his actions and emotions by speaking them out loud reflexively.

The golden-masked and visored security bot's taunt and mispronunciation of (Y/Cyb/n)'s name was mocking and demeaning to the already self-conscious mech. Orion's optics narrowed angrily at their ridicule, but he tried to keep his cool as he backed away.

"Oh, come on, guys, can't a couple of bots just look through some historical records?" Orion tried to plead, his servos held in the air placatingly. He knew they were in real trouble now.

The magenta-masked and visor security transformer rolled his optics at Orion's attempt to persuade them. "Like you guys would actually follow simple rules."

"Yeah, and that defective junk is in here for a reason." The golden-masked and visored bot sneered, gesturing at (Y/Cyb/n) with a dismissive wave of his servo.

Orion couldn't help but chuckle softly at the security guard's joke about his friend despite the severe situation. He knew (Y/Cyb/n) was a good mech, defective or otherwise. He patted the trans-mech on the shoulder reassuringly, hoping to calm his friend, who was getting more jittery by the second.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, buddy." Orion retorted, rolling his blue optics at the guard. "But you've got us all wrong. We're just exploring. Besides, he has a name, (Y/Cyb/n). It's really nice name if you say it right-"

"Who cares!?" The golden-masked and visored Transformer barked, cutting Orion off. "We told you to never come back here!"

"Why are we all yelling?" Orion Pax chuckled again.

The magenta-mask guard stepped closer to Orion, his optics narrowing in irritation. "You never know when to shut up, do you?"

The golden-mask guard walked around (Y/Cyb/n) and studied him, poking him with a rude digit. "Look at him. He can't even see properly." He said mockingly, prodding (Y/Cyb/n)'s damaged optic, which the trans-mech spoke "ow" repeatedly from the force applied.

He chuckled cruelly. "He's such a worthless, defective piece of junk, a walking time bomb, and everybody knows it."

"Hey, I would've been dead already if he blew up." Orion pulled (Y/Cyb/n) away from the golden-masked security transformer. "But he chose not to."

"I'm going to smash you." The magenta-masked transformer snarled with disdain. "Perhaps I can give your defected friend a little... help with his system and processor."

"Whoa! Hold up-!" Orion pulled (Y/Cyb/n) away from the two, shuffling quickly back before they stopped in one place. "Whoa. Whoa- hold on. No need for violence." He held his servos up.

"How about this: we run away, you chase us, we play that game. Huh? Come on, you're bigger, faster. It'll be fun." He proposed.

The two security guards glanced at each other. "He doesn't have a cog." The magenta-masked and visored transformer commented with mocking sympathy. "Let's give him a head start."

"Why not?" The golden-masked mech looked at his partner. "It's not like he can transform." He glanced at (Y/Cyb/n), who was tugging on his shawl's metallic fabric securely. "Hmm... but what about the other one? Should we give him a better head start?"

"Yeah, he could probably trip and faceplant to the floor. He's clumsy, after all." The magenta-masked guard sneered before the two laughed cruelly at their jokes directed to (Y/Cyb/n), whose left pupil shifted from a dark gray, lopsided triangle into a vibrant ocean-blue teardrop.

(Y/Cyb/n) couldn't help but be hurt by the cruel words of the security guards. He could hear every word they said about him, and the way they talked about his disability and status as a defective, as if he wasn't even there, was like a dagger to his spark.

Sensing his friend's hurt and anger, Orion was visibly upset with the two security transformers who were making jokes about (Y/Cyb/n)'s condition. "Hey, hey, come on, guys. You know that's not fair. He didn't ask to be built this way. He's still a Cybertronian."

The two security guards rolled their optics in annoyance at Orion's defense, not caring about (Y/Cyb/n)'s feelings. "He's a defect; we're just speaking the truth," the golden-masked guard said bluntly, shrugging his servos. "That's what he is, and everyone knows it."

Orion bristled in anger, his optics narrowing at the two guards. He took a deep breath, calming down before losing his cool. "Oh yeah? Well, watch this." He smirked.

He curled in his arm, twisting his clutched servo and putting both arms on his sides. He tilted his helm down and pressed his pedes together...

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...and turned on his heel while he grabbed (Y/Cyb/n)'s servo and ran off, passing through the boxes and crates.

─•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•─

>>>[ NEXT CHAPTER ]<<<

[helenofsparta2]

I think Percy Jackson and Will Solace were friends before, during and after The Last Olympian

Warning: this post has absolutely zero right to be as long, as it ended up being, and is, at times, quite chaotic and not as well structured as I would like it to be.

A take that I’ve seen in this fandom in the past few months, both on TikTok, and on Tumblr, is that Will and Percy have a strained relationship after the battle of Manhattan, and specifically, after Michael Yew died during the battle at the Williamsburg bridge.

Now, I understand that Michael's death adds complexity to their relationship, and that it offers a lot of potential for angst, especially in terms of creating a tragic connection between Will and Nico. I'm not trying to invalidate that interpretation of Will. Since he’s a minor character in the original series, everyone naturally has their own take on him and his emotions. So, this is not a claim to the truth, this is simply me providing a different interpretation, in which Percy and Will have a more positive relationship, because I absolutely adore the possibility of their friendship.

(Considering the fact, that Will had very little screen time in The Last Olympian, this will involve a lot of speculation, and comes obviously from a biased view, even if I try to mostly base my interpretation on the text, that we do have about him.)

There are four aspects I want to primarily focus on:

The relationship Percy and Will might have had before the battle of Manhattan

The incident at the Williamsburg bridge & the circumstances surrounding Michael Yew’s death

Will’s characterization shortly after that incident

Will’s possible view of Percy during and after The Last Olympian

The relationship Percy and Will might have had before the battle of Manhattan

Now, Will’s first appearance in the PJO universe was in the last Olympian. So, this point is obviously mostly speculation, and based more generally on the relationship Percy has with the rest of camp, and less on Will as an individual character.

But based on that, I personally think there are two facets to their relationship.

Will and Percy being friends

Percy being generally seen as a leader of Camp Half-Blood

Friends:

To understand the relationship Will and Percy have, I think it’s important to consider the dynamics in camp half-blood at the beginning of the last Olympian. This was a group of around 45- 50 kids and teenagers, who had no place else to go, who faced discrimination everywhere else in the world, who already lost friends and siblings and who fought in at least one major battle together.

They grew up alongside each other, they fought together, they died alongside each other and they buried their friends together. They might have not always gotten along perfectly,, but it’s pretty safe to say, that they probably trusted each other more than anyone else in the world. There is a strong bond connecting all of them, Percy and Will included.  

Despite this, it’s obviously still possible, that Will and Percy had a more neutral relationship and didn’t interact much. That calling them friends would be a bit of a stretch, and that the only thing connecting them is this deep sense of comradery, which no matter how strong, didn’t accumulate to an actual friendship.

However, we do know, that Percy at least considers the rest of camp, Will included, his friends. He calls them that on multiple occasions all throughout The Last Olympian:  

As I looked at their faces—all these campers I'd known for so many summers—a nagging voice whispered in my mind: One of them is a spy. But I couldn't dwell on that. They were my friends. I needed them. (The last Olympian, chapter 9)

She wore the same kind of simple brown dress as she had before, but she was a grown woman now. I bowed. "Lady Hestia." My friends followed my example. (The last Olympian, Chapter 9)

I turned to my friends. They looked stunned and scared, and I couldn't blame them. (The last Olympian, Chapter 10)

I could have stabbed it, but I hesitated. This is not Mrs. O'Leary, I reminded myself. This is an untamed monster. It will kill me and all my friends. (The last Olympian, Chapter 11)

Too many of our friends lay wounded in the streets. Too many were missing. (The last Olympian, Chapter 15)

I looked at Pandora's jar, and for the first time I had an urge to open it. Hope seemed pretty useless to me right now. So many of my friends were dead. (The last Olympian, Chapter 17)

Grover and I cared for the wounded, and once the sky bridge re-formed, we greeted our friends who had survived. (The last Olympian, Chapter 20)

I thought about my friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many others who were now dead. (The last Olympian, Chapter 20)

I specifically want to focus on this quote, which takes place during the battle at the Williamsburg bridge:

"Retreat!" I told my friends. "I'll hold them.'" (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11)

Here, he specifically addresses the Apollo cabin. No one else is present except for them, Percy, and Annabeth.

Obviously, we don’t have Will’s POV, but I personally see no reason to think this friendship wasn’t mutual.

Leader:

I’m going to keep this point rather short, because there is not much room for debate about the fact, that Percy was seen as a leader at the time ‘The Last Olympian’ takes place. He has accomplished a lot of incredible feats, and no one disagreed with him leading them during the battle of Manhattan. So, Will probably saw him the same way.

"But you're our leader." He smiled. "I am your trainer, your teacher. That is not the same as being your leader. I will go gather what allies I can. It may not be too late to convince my brother centaurs to help. Meanwhile, you called the campers here, Percy. You are the leader." I wanted to protest, but everybody was looking at me expectantly, even Annabeth. (The last Olympian, chapter 9)

The battle at the Williamsburg bridge

Now, to focus on the battle at the Williamsburg bridge, and especially Will’s POV during it. This was certainly an emotionally charged situation. A popular interpretation here is, like I said, that Will’s and Percy’s relationship would become strained after this battle, and more specifically after Michael’s death.  I actually argue that the opposite is true. I think, that Will's opinion of Percy improved after this battle.

Let me explain.

Will was, I think, around 13 or 14 years old during the battle of Manhattan and probably terrified.

(Please take his age with a grain of salt. I have this information from the fan wiki, which likes to be wrong at times and on top of that, we can never truly trust Rick Riordan’s timelines and character ages.)

It was his first battle in that book. And a really bad one at that.   Will was at the Williamsburg bridge together with the rest of his cabin, and they were completely overwhelmed. Roughly 10 campers were up against an army of 200 monsters. They didn’t have their flying chariot. They had already shot most of their arrows. Hope was dwindling and at least one Apollo camper had already gotten killed by a hellhound.

Then, in their hour of greatest need, Percy and Annabeth arrived.  

I really want to try to get into Will’s head here, and think about what kind of impression Percy must have made on him during this battle.  

There are two aspects, which I think are really important to consider:

The first one is the fact that Percy always fought at the front lines, and even told the Apollo cabin on multiple occasions to stand back, while he faced the enemy alone or only with Annabeth.

The first thing Percy did when he arrived at the battle was to tell Michael to form a defensive line, while he fought alone against the minotaur, and then later against 199 enemy monsters (. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. (The Lats Olympian, Chapter 11)

Later, when Kronos arrived, Percy told them again to retreat, while he and Annabeth held off Kronos, and his guards, consisting of around 40 demigods and 20 monsters (The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered against the pavement. Our archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept riding. "Retreat!" I told my friends. "I'll hold them.' (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11))

Because Percy did this, and risked his own life, no other Apollo camper died on that bridge, aside from Michael. He saved the entire cabin with that strategy, and seeing Percy face the enemy army alone must have really invigorated a sense of trust in him from Will and his half-siblings.

The second aspect, would be Percy’s fighting abilities

I don’t think I can reiterate enough how absolutely insane, Percy must have seem like to his fellow campers in this battle alone.

He easily,and I mean easily, defeated the minotaur

Because we have already seen Percy kill the minotaur when he was 12, and because we see how fast he defeated him now, it’s easy to forget that that beast is still the minotaur. One of the most dangerous monsters in greek mythology, which has already killed several other halfbloods at this point in time, and probably also at least one Apollo camper. (Tied around the base of each blade were lots of bead necklaces. I realized they were Camp Half-Blood beads—necklaces taken from defeated demigods. (The Last Olympian, chapter 11)

He fights 199 monsters, and demolishes them without receiving a single scratch

I sliced through armor like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to shadow. I slashed and stabbed and whirled, and I might have even laughed once or twice—a crazy laugh that scared me as much as it did my enemies. (The Last Olympian, chapter 11)

He goes toe-to-toe against Kronos himself

He dismounted, his scythe glistening in the dawn light. "I'll settle for another dead demigod." I met his first strike with Riptide. The impact shook the entire bridge, but I held my ground. Kronos's smile wavered. With a yell, I kicked his legs out from under him. His scythe skittered across the pavement. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11)

He destroys the bridge, forcing the enemy to retreat

I stabbed Riptide into the bridge. The magic blade sank to its hilt in asphalt. Salt water shot from the crack like I'd hit a geyser. I pulled out my blade and the fissure grew. The bridge shook and began to crumble. Chunks the size of houses fell into the East River. Kronos's demigods cried out in alarm and scrambled backward. Some were knocked off their feet. Within a few seconds, a fifty foot chasm opened in the Williamsburg Bridge between Kronos and me. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11)

I think the psychological effects of seeing Percy in action here are really underrated. Before this moment, Will probably started to believe they had no chance of winning the war. But this battle marks a turning point. Yes, the titan army had a huge advantage in numbers, legendary monsters like the Minotaur, and actual titans on their side. But in this battle, Will and the other campers must have realized what it really meant, that they had Percy Jackson. That they had someone who could go toe to toe with the strongest of the titan army and come out victorious. Someone who would come when they called for help. Someone who seemed impossible to kill.

However, afterwards, this whole fight gets overshadowed by Michael’s death.

Michael’s death:

Obviously, Will grieved for Michael. He’d already lost Lee the summer before, and who knows how many other half-siblings. Seeing his brother die in such a way could definitely lead to resentment, no matter how unfair that resentment might be. However, the key word here is could. It's important to consider the context of this scene. One point that often gets overlooked is that Will also saw Percy’s reaction to Michael’s death—and everything leading up to it.

He heard Michael tell Percy to break the bridge. ("Percy, the bridge!" he called. "It's already weak!"(…) "Break it!" Michael yelled. "Use your powers!" (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11))

He heard Percy yell at Michael to get out, before following through with his plan (The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge, except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspensions cables a few yards away from me, His last arrow was notched in his bow. "Michael, go!" I screamed. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11))

He saw Percy search the wreckage of the bridge for Michaels body afterwards (I turned to thank Michael Yew, but the words died in my throat. Twenty feet away, a bow lay in the street. Its owner was nowhere to be seen. "No!" I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge.( The Last Olympian, Chapter 11))

He heard him scream out in pain after not finding Michael. (Nothing. I yelled in anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness. The Last Olympian, Chapter 11)

He heard Percy tell the rest of his cabin to continue searching for Michael, despite the fact, that they could be needed in other battles, for the slim chance, that Michael could still be saved, or at least buried properly (I grabbed Will Solace from the Apollo cabin and told the rest of his siblings to keep searching for Michael Yew. The Last Olympian, Chapter 12)

Obviously, it’s still possible, for Will to blame Percy. Grief makes people act irrationally. Especially kids, who are already traumatized and fighting in a war.  However, Will’s actions and characterization afterwards make me personally doubt that.

Will’s characterization afterwards:

Shortly, after Michael’s death, Percy and Will drive together to their base to save Annabeth’s life. This is how Will acted once they arrived:

Will and I pushed through a crowd of Athena kids. Will unwrapped Annabeth's bandages to examine the wound, and I wanted to faint (…) Will Solace exhaled with relief. "It's not so bad, Annabeth. A few more minutes and we would've been in trouble, but the venom hasn't gotten past the shoulder yet. Just lie still. Somebody hand me some nectar." I grabbed a canteen. Will cleaned out the wound with the godly drink while I held Annabeth's hand. "Ow," she said. "Ow, ow!" She gripped my fingers so tight they turned purple, but she stayed still, like Will asked. Silena muttered words of encouragement. Will put some silver paste over the wound and hummed words in Ancient Greek—a hymn to Apollo. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 12)

From this bit, we can say that Will seems completely focused on healing Annabeth. He doesn’t bring up the battle or Michael, and he doesn’t react in any way badly to Percy. He simply tries his best to save Annabeth’s life.

I especially want to focus on this little sentence:

“Will Solace exhaled in relief. “It’s not so bad Annabeth.”

This sentence shows us, that Will himself was worried about Annabeth. That Will wanted to heal Annabeth.  He wasn’t some paralysed, poor kid, whom Percy forced to leave his siblings behind and heal Annabeth. He was a healer, who pushed down his own emotions to prioritize helping and healing his fellow campers, and who consciously decided to focus on the battle and problems at hand, and deal with his grief later.

His behavior afterwards supports this characterization. Even after he made sure, Annabeth survived (and completely exhausted himself with that effort, might I add), Will continued to focus on how to best treat his fellow campers.  

The healing must've taken a lot of his energy. He looked almost as pale as Annabeth. "That should do it," he said. "But we're going to need some mortal supplies." He grabbed a piece of hotel stationery, jotted down some notes, and handed it to one of the Athena guys. "There's a Duane Reade on Fifth. Normally I would never steal—" "I would," Travis volunteered. Will glared at him. "Leave cash or drachmas to pay, whatever you've got, but this is an emergency. I've got a feeling we're going to have a lot more people to treat. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 12)

Aside from that, I would also like to shortly consider Will’s POV regarding Percy during the rest of the war.

I imagine that for a healer, like Will, who saw one injured demigod after another, seeing Percy completely uninjured, fighting and fighting and fighting, killing hundreds of monsters all on his own, barely allowing himself to take a break, while attacking a drakon, and fighting enemies like Hyperion, must have been like a beacon of hope in a way. Like a reminder, that they could actually win. That he wouldn’t lose all of his friends. A sign to not give up.

Percy’s promise from the gods:

Another thing, which I think is quite consequential to consider to judge the relationship between Percy and Will, is Percy’s demand from the gods.

I could see Will becoming bitter, had Percy wished for something for himself after they had won the war. If Percy had become a god, while the rest of camp received no prize whatsoever and if the death of his siblings had meant nothing in the long run, I could see Will starting to resent him.  

However, Percy wished for nothing, which solely benefitted himself. Annabeth received the chance to redesign Olympus, Grover became a lord of the wild, Tyson received a weapon, but Percy received nothing like that. The only thing he wanted was the reassurance that the war, Will has lost so many of his siblings on, and which had forced him to grow up so fast, could never repeat itself. The reassurance, that Lee’s and Michael’s and everyone else’s sacrifice was not in vain.

No one can tell me that this did not mean a lot to Will and only strengthened their relationship to each other.

 Post The Last Olympian:

My last point is this moment from the beginning of the lost hero:

“Annabeth!” A guy with a bow and quiver on his back pushed through the crowd. “I said you could borrow the chariot, not destroy it!” “Will, I’m sorry,” Annabeth sighed. “I’ll get it fixed, I promise.” Will scowled at his broken chariot. Then he sized up Piper, Leo, and Jason. “These are the ones? Way older than thirteen. Why haven’t they been claimed already?” “Claimed?” Leo asked. Before Annabeth could explain, Will said, “Any sign of Percy?”  (The Lost Hero, chapter 3)

Will was the first person to ask about Percy out of everyone else present and didn’t even wait for Annabeth to answer Leo’s previous question.  That doesn’t really sound like a person asking about a guy he resents, or feels neutral about. To me at least, it sounds like a guy who is worried about a friend.

That’s at least my interpretation of their relationship, up until this moment. (Though again, I am quite biased, because, I really love their friendship potential)

[cepetriwrites]

Alicent Reverses the Hourglass Chapter 52 Memes Pt 3

Her husband, her castle. A voice from within whispered. Now even her gown.

Alicent dug her fingernails into her hand.

No. They existed in a different world now. The past should stay in the past.

AVPM anyone?

She literally had a magical witch call her out on her relationship with rhaenyra and Alicent is just: No thoughts. Head empty. Get dick.

~~~~~~~

He had shown little interest in matters of local politics, household structure or financial planning: all these things he was more than happy to leave to Alicent’s keeping.

The man who wants to be king everybody……

Daemon was too busy dying and tripping balls in Harrenhal to notice how much work ruling is

~~~~~~~~~

“Are you about to tell me how I may select mine own heir, my lord?” Daemon’s voice held an all-too familiar edge. “Do you imagine I require your opinion?”

Me:

This is what an ally looks like. If I had to choose between daemon and a bear…. I’d probably still choose the bear cause daemon loves killing people but if he did kill me, it wouldn’t be because of sexism, it’s just because he’s an asshole. Take notes men.

~~~~~

Corlys and Rhaenys looked at each other and everyone else brought their eyes back down to their plates.

Me wanting to be apart of that post dinner debrief/gossip

I just want to be the kid in the backseat of their parents car as they discuss the drama from the latest family function

~~~~~

All with the exception of Selman Sunglass who clapped his hands, eager to agree with everything coming from Alicent’s mouth no matter what it happened to be. “Well, I think it is a fine idea! Times are changing after all! Male, female: they will still be the Prince and Lady Alicent’s child.”

I’ll allow it. Raw as well.

~~~~~~

“My mother and he raised Viserys and I together. As one. I always intended to do the same with my own family.”

“I agree.” Corlys said.

Both Laenor and Rhaenys raised their eyebrows in unison. “ You do?” They spoke together.

Laenor when his dad implies he’s a present father

Me & laenor should get shirts for our club

~~~~~

Gwayne & Laenor going through a messy gay breakup at the dinner table

The dinner guests

It’s so sad when friends fight :(

Meanwhile cut to Laenor buried under blankets sobbing as he blasts casual by Chappell roan

Someone should introduce these boys to the concept of an affair…. Lord Corlys is pretty well versed on the subject……

~~~~~~

At that moment, Gwayne couldn’t help but feel horribly out-of-place. He gave another look to the back of Laenor’s head and then left, quickly before the next song began.

So ignoring your loved ones cries for help is just….. a thing you do… huh?

Someone tell Aegon it was nothing personal when she moonwalked away from him as he sobbed over the death of his son, she’s just allergic to the spectrum of human emotion

Aegon🤝Gwayne🤝Rhaenyra = getting ignored by Alicent during their times of need

~~~~~~~

Daemon glanced at her as if surprised. “I thought you would be pleased at the idea of our daughter being our heir.”

Anskdkslwksnd he thought his sexist wife, who did a coup that killed most of the Targaryens and dragons to put a younger son over the oldest daughter, would be happy about him equally valuing a daughter? Sir you are married to the Westerosi version of Phyllis Schlafly.

~~~~~~~~

“I saw him drink goblet upon goblet of wine,” Arthor’s eyes roved over her. “His temper will be soft and…malleable.” He came forward began to twist at the seam of her bodice until her cleavage spilled forth. “There. That’s better.”

Shoutout to reddish for writing such toxic people it makes me happier with my annoying family members. At least they’ve never tried pimping me out

~~~~~~~

He hoped that, at some point, he could cleave one of Alicent’s enemies in two. The look on her face: both gratitude and love. He was impatient for it.

She would see then that only he could be called upon to protect her and cast all memories of the Dornish knight or the Baratheon boy into flame.

His love language is literally murder. At this point I think he needs it to function the way we need food to survive.

Also not his anxious attachment still making him insecure over a Baratheon when Alicent was literally riding him like a stallion with an audience watching.

Good thing she’s not bi, the man would never know peace if he knew everyone was an option.

~~~~~~

“Wife.” His fingers drowsily grazed her arm, still between sleep and waking, the medicine addling him.

Koline chose not to speak. She straddled him instead, making sure that her scented skin was underneath his nose. He breathed in and seemed contented. {…} In the hollowness of the dark chamber, she did her duty.

Hey what… um… that’s um… that’s a….

I cannot believe I am using this video for TWO different people.

~~~~~

Alicent & Koline staring at each other after Alicent walks in on her mid sexual assault

~~~~~

Alicent feeling her brain chemistry change as she catches her husband “cheating” on her

Homegirl about to snap and take everyone with her

Memes Masterpost

[reikamasama]

𝙰 𝚂𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝙾𝚏 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 ? 𝘐 (DISCONTINUED)

Pairing ;  Hazbin hotel X G/N Teen!Reader

Warnings ; mentions of death !

Word count ; 4.4 k

Summary ; You are now one of the many sinners, joining them 6 feet under. You stumble upon a kind lady who helps you navigate through hell.

ೃ⁀➷ Prologue, ꕥ Chapter I, ꕥ Chapter II

It was another hellish day, the streets were buzzing, sinners were fighting and the rats were scurrying. A rotting scent lingers through the air from the unclean streets and unkept sinners, mixed with the fires throughout the city. The atmosphere reeks of negativity, probably one of many reasons that kept sinners dwelling on their past, before they went and made their way to the pearly gates only to be rejected — and fall to join eternal doom. You may have believed this day would be like any other, but there was something unusual about this day; a certain star had fallen from their grace. Their soul being rejected peace, and were now joining the fiery pits of hell.

⋇⊶⊰    ⊱⊷⋇

You feel a warm sensation wrapping around your body, the feeling was that of a warm blanket, something telling you that everything was going to be okay. That feeling was short lived as you hear a soft ‘thud’ followed by that comforting feeling being replaced with an uncomfortably negative one. Not only were you feeling uncomfortable — your nose also caught a horrible smell of rotting trash! You scrunch your nose as you take slow, controlled and rhythmic breaths trying to get your nose to get used to that god-awful smell.

You shift feeling uncomfortable in your current state. You could feel yourself sitting on some kind of hard pavement, or some kind of rocks. Probably a street of some kind.. then why couldn’t you hear any voices? Are you on an abandoned street of sorts perhaps? Okay, okay—Pause! The thoughts in your head stop brewing while you tell yourself ‘not to create more questions for yourself’. You gently lift your hands, up to your face. You let your fingers rub your eyelids gently, as they seemingly don’t want to cooperate with you, wishing for them to open. 

You slowly feel your eyelids opening allowing you to scan the current location you were in. As your eyelids flutter you let your eyes wander. You quickly notice of a theme with where you were, there were two pink buildings on either side of you. The buildings had matching structures, and there was a filthy trash can to your left. Oh! That would explain the lack of noise.  

Your eyes keep scanning your surroundings, you can for sure say that you are not in some area you have been in before. 

Breath in— yuck, there’s that smell again.. your eyes land on the trash can and you notice how overfilled it is. We are talking months worth of trash. The trash wasn’t something of the ordinary but it had a horrible sent that liked to linger. You squint your eyes not being able to make out what was in the trash but you pay it no mind. You had to drop your curiosity for now. 

All you needed was a main goal, right! A goal.. 

How about asking the first person you see questions about this place.. in other words, gathering as much information you can you can about this place. You loose yourself in thought, letting your fingers trail the lines between the pavement subconsciously. You let out a content ‘hm’ to yourself, pleased with the current plan. You look down at your hand that has been tracing the lines between the different rocks in the pavement. Wait, what-! 

Your eyes widen as you see your arm, why is it not your usual color? Actually, why is it not a normal color at all! You go into panic to mode swiftly stand up. This has got to be some kind of dream, or- or! Maybe it’s just the light, you are sitting in the shadows of a dark alleyway after all maybe-! You stumble once you’re on your feet, you lean against the wall. The cold sensation of the wall cools your senses for a second, before you switch right back into panic mode. You feel your legs growing more wobbly as you stumble back down. There was nothing that sounded sounding more appealing, than curling up into a small ball and crying. Wishing for better days, tomorrow is another day after all.

That’s a sentence you’ve gotten used to telling yourself ‘Tomorrow is another day.’  It’s a sentence that has helped you trough thick and thin. When you had to deal with the woman you used to call mom, while studying.. just generally every other day at this point. You exhale with a shaky breath, tears building up, but before you were able to have a breakdown you hear a voice approaching you in a somewhat-normal pace. Breath. 

“Dear, ..are you crying, are you alright?”

The tone of the voice sounded slightly worried. You could tell it was a woman trying to get your attention. She had a voice that radiated with confidence from that of an older lady, but also laced with kindness. You audibly inhaled, then exhaled trying to control your emotions as you look up at the lady speaking with you.

Your suspicions was correct, it was a woman. The lady had a very tall and slim figure accompanied with a beautiful long silky dress. The dress had short puffy sleeves, at the ends of the puffed sleeve continues a longer normal sized sleeve that ends right before the beginning of her palm. The lady had slender like fingers as well as a very slender neck with the dress reaching up to the very top of her neck. The woman had a pointy face, her teeth were sharper than the sharpest knives that you’ve ever seen and her eyes were completely blacked out. Even if her eyes were blacked out you were still able make out emotions in them. Your eyes traveled up to her oversized hat, it resembles a sun hat of sorts with a bunch of fluffy feathers sticking out from the top of the hat. The middle of the hat has a little skull with a cutie little heart next to it. The hat also had a beautiful pink rim— wait.. why doesn’t she look human?

You do a double take, the thing standing in front of you had a few resembling human features but nothing close to an actual human. Your confusion only grew but you had to remember your goal, figure out where you are.. you can ask more questions later! You take notice to the woman that was looking at you expectantly, probably awaiting some kind of verbal response. You keep your hands wrapped around your knees making sure the woman won’t get to close to you.

“Where am i..?”

You asked, you were surprised at hearing your own voice, it hasn’t ever sounded so panicked or weak before... A tone you are certainly not used to. The lady in front of you frowns slightly as she looks down at your scared form. Her voice turns into a more soft sounding one. Also making sure not to make any sudden movements to frighten you further.

“Ah, you must be new to hell correct?”

What —is she talking about.. hell? You’re in hell.? What the hell?? Well- to be fair you have just killed someone, and yourself. But hell? You never did anything wrong in your life, until there was that little mishap. 

You were never one for religion, but apparently the concept of heaven or hell was true. There’s a brief second where everything clicks in your head, your strange appearance along with the smell.. the strange appearance of the women. 

You nod your head slightly trying to follow that with a verbal agreement, but your voice doesn’t seem to cooperate with you. You close your mouth and you let out a barely audible sigh. The lady in front of you offers you a sad smile.

“Well then let me help you! The name is Rosie it’s a pleasure to meet you young fellow!”

The lady whom appears to be named Rosie does a little curtesy as she gives you a toothy smile.

“And who may you be?”

You let her question linger in the air for a second, how will it take before you’ll be able to talk, especially since your brain isn’t letting you.? You try your best, forcing out a quiet;

“I’m [Name], [Name] [Lastname]. It’s a pleasure to—“

Your throat begins to burn, or at least it feels like it. You yelp slightly. Swiftly lifting one of your free hands up to caress the sharp pain in your neck. You gently caress the pain back and forth. It takes a long second but at some point the pain begins to loosen up, the only pain left is a small throbbing in the middle of your neck. You find it ironic that the pain in your neck is where you stabbed yourself when you were alive. You suddenly remember the woman in front of you is still there, it’s quite rude not to finish your sentence you know.

“—meet you..”

She has a strange expression on her face, but she picked up on the pain in your neck and decided not to pry further.

“Oh my stars! I’ve never meet a young one like yourself with such manners! Why [Name] why don’t ya come with me? We can speak more of this over some tea! A cup of tea has never killed anyone, except my first husband ha ha!”

You now see Rosie standing in front of you with a toothy grin, showing off her sharp white teeth. Her eyes kind and warm as she laughs at her own joke. You find her humor entertaining. She reaches her hand down to your level. You look at her hand, surprised to meet someone this nice in hell. Maybe it’s all a trick? After all hell is supposed to be some kind of shit hole.. maybe you can’t trust her.? You hesitate accepting her hand, leaving her hand empty for a little. You go back and forth in your brain listing positives and negatives that were likely to happen had you accepted her hand. 

You shake off your anxiety and decide that accepting her hand would be for the best.

Her hand smoothly lifts you up on your feet, you wobble but she keeps a steady grip on your hand keeping you grounded. You offer her a small smile as your eyes warily look around with every step the two of you take. Right as the two of you are about to exit the tightly fit alley you can make out what has been drenching the air in its horrid smell. It was flesh, months old flesh. You flinch slightly, eyes widening as you don’t know how to react. Rosie’s gaze follows yours, her gaze landing on the rotting flesh as well. 

“I forgot to tell you where you are, how rude of me! Welcome to cannibal town dear. Here is where you can find the cleanest parts of hell! Well aside from the junk you’ve just seen I’ll get that fixed later! But I’m sure the rest of the town is fit to impress you!”

She smiles with pride while talking about her town. Rosie keeps a steady pace while the two of you exit the alleyway. You are now greeted with a more clear vision of this town, there are multiple buildings standing neatly next to each other. The buildings have a matching color scheme that contains a bunch of pinks followed along with the lighter pink accents resembling white. Everything has a vintage vibe and it fits really well and it leaves a good taste in your mouth! You also take notice to the sky, it’s a blood colored red. You’re not surprised as this is hell after all. 

After a short walk around the ‘Cannibal town’ you aproach a large building, the building stood out from the rest. Its colors were rich having multiple shades of a brighter pink with pastel pink accents. The large doors were made out of stained glass and its shape was emerald like. Over the entrance you saw a huge sign with the words;                       

 ‘Franklin and Rosie’s’

     ‘Emporium’ 

You let the slim lady lead you up to the doors. Her slender fingers wrapping around one of the door handles as she gently opens the door leading you inside. You only walk into the large room after feeling Rosie’s urging hand on your back. The room had light pink walls and white flooring, it was the first time you had ever seen something that light-colored in all of hell.. 

You kept following Rosie. You look to your left and you see rows of glass displays, they were displaying a bunch of different body parts legs, arms, eyes and more. The display that really caught your attention though was a display with a bunch of pinkie fingers. They came in different colors, sizes and some even had accessories. You felt sick from these things being displayed so casually, you wanted to gag but you keep that to yourself not wanting to get on Rosie’s bad side. You can hear your foot-steps echoing as you make your way t the shop into a smaller more secluded area. Your head looks towards the and you’re presented with a beautiful round coffee table. 

The coffee table was covered in a long black cloth. The cloth hangs down from the table forming a flower-like pattern. Each ‘petal’, or ‘bump’ on the cloth had a skull pattern embroiled into it. There were also frills at the beginning of each ‘petal’. On each side of the table you saw large chairs. The chairs had the same color scheme as everything else around this town.. mostly pinks with some lighter pinks or whites if you prefer, oh! But they did have a black touch to them! The chairs were very square like due to the cushions material that was used for them. The chairs had large skulls at the top of their crown. 

On the table there was a light-pink tea set, the tea pot was filled with already brewed water. It was like fate knew you were gonna run into her. 

You feel a hand gently nudging your back pushing you forward to the chair on the right side of the table. You stumble forward while looking at the chair in hesitation, your gaze lands on Rosie’s comforting face telling you it’s alright to take a seat. You take some steps forward and you let yourself sink down into the chair. It’s a very comfortable chair, made out of a very soft material, nothing you ever expected to feel in hell. But i guess if you live in hell you gotta make the most of it! You can’t help but feel a happy meeting such a kind soul in hell, you don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if you didn’t meet Rosie. 

You straighten your back and place your hands on your lap as you watch her slink down in her chair. Your gaze follows her every move as she pours some tea into your cup and then hers. Some old manners you have ever been taught since the nick of time were keeping eye contact to show that you were playing attention to her. You do things like this subconsciously like a little mental list in the back of your head, smile, look the person your talking to, keep your hands in your lap not to take up much space, nod and chime in every once in a while — nobody likes a yapper. You get the picture. A long list of rules to make sure you present yourself in the best light. 

Rosie curls her fingers around the cup handle, lifting the cup to her lips as she takes a sip of the steaming tea and lets out an audible laugh. “You sure know manners, kid! Have good parents growing up?” Her laugh echos trough the room as your shoulders stiffen, your smile drops ever so slightly. If Rosie wasn’t looking at your face she would’ve never caught glimts of your unpleased face from when she brought up your parents.

“Alright alright, i won’t pry.. but don’t feel any need to be so formal around me, you’re a good kid.” Your shoulders relax and only then you notice how tense you truly were. Rosie is offering you a comforting smile and you give her an apologetic smile in return. You shift in your seat making yourself more comfortable wondering where you’re gonna go from here.

“Now, i do believe we have a lot to talk about, i understand if any of this gets overwhelming — then you should tell me and we can take a little snack break, oh! Have you ever tried pinkie fingers? They’re a real treat when you try them—!”

“—No! Thank you Rosie, i belive I’ll be fine, I’m not ready to try.. cannibalism just yet..haha…”

Your voice sounds weak, and that sharp pain you felt earlier rises up from your throat to pay others visit. You want to yelp in pain, but the feeling of wanting make a good personal wins over your own comfort. 

⋇⊶⊰ P A S T ⊱⊷⋇

“Smile, dear! Nobody will like you if you don’t show them manners!”

You sit on a small brown uncomfortable chair, a fancy tall golden mirror stands in front of you. Your mother’s hand rests on your shoulders with a soft grip as she smiles and looks into the mirror. You force that smile on your face, the smile your mom oh so much loves.

“Perfect, hands on your lap, sitting with a straight back.. good job dear!”

You always found her obsession with manners weird. You notice your mother’s grip on your shoulders loosen up as one of them moves to your chin. She has a cold smile that sends shivers down your spine.

“Never let anybody see you with frown, it doesn’t fit you, dear.”

⋇⊶⊰  H U R T  ⊱⊷⋇

Your left hand is rubbing your neck gently as Rosie keeps ranting. Your hand reachers for the tea cup sitting on the matching plate. Your index finger and thumb wraps around the cup handle as you gently lift the cup and place it between your lips, sipping on what you believe is strawberry tea. The pain in your throat grows weak only leaves a small throbbing on your neck, you conclude that talking to much makes your throat hurt. 

“Oh i get it, a kid like you would like to keep your figure! Oh im just kidding, it’s alright dear you don’t need to try cannibalism just yet! But the offer still stands, haha! 

She snorts at her own joke as she takes another sip of her tea.

“On a more serious note, i would like to say that you shouldn’t trust anybody in hell, yes you might have trusted.. me but take that as a lesson. Oh! Also make sure not to make any deals— especially if it’s for your soul! It can make your (undead) life in hell well.. a living hell!”

Nodding you silently sipping on your tea showing her you are listening as she continues talking;

“There are a lot of things we can talk about, so how about i ask you something simple— something you might be able to answer right now.”

“How are you adjusting with your new body? I just wanna say kid you have gotten better luck than other sinners.”

Oh right your new body. You had been so caught up in everything you had completely forgotten about that. Your head tilts down, eyes catching glimpses of your hands. It feels unreal.. you place the teacup down on the table. Opening and closing your hands moving your fingers one by one. At least you aren’t struggling, but it’s still hard to take in.

You notice something that has been inching towards you from the corner of your eye. It’s Rosie’s hand with a small pocket mirror. She gently places it in your empty hand and you saw its pink flower theme. Your fingers linger over the smooth silver lining before you open the mirror.

The mirror shows you a frowning face, your face. Your mothers voice rings trough your head;

“Never let anybody see you frown my dear”

You give yourself a stiff smile letting your free hand trail up your face, softly brushing your fingers against your lips. Is it really you..? Your fingers move to your cheek as you gently tug on it. Your eyes wander around the mirror you find multiple features that remind you of your old face, the old you. You stare at your reflection and it stares back at you.. better get used to it. A sigh leaves your mouth before you close the flower themed mirror.

You place Rosie’s mirror onto the table, eyes still fixated on your new hands. Inhale, exhale, you take deep controlled breaths letting yourself take in what you just saw;

“I’m sure I’ll be able to adjust fine, I’m just not used to it that’s all. I was never a religious person either.. so when you told me i ended up in hell— i was quite suprised.. hah..”

Your hands fidget in your lap as you continue;

“I must thank you Rosie.. for helping me..with everything.!”

Your hands tightly grip onto your clothing looking up at her as you force a smile.

Rosie’s face lights up.

“I have barely helped you yet, dear — but you are most welcome! Now i have another question, why is such a young one as yourself down in hell? I’m not quite sure it was your time to die just yet.”

Your smile tenses, your body freezing in your tracks. Are you sure you can tell her? She has hinkt helped you so far.. but are you ready to tell your tale? Maybe you can..sugar coat some things! Possibilities fly around in your head. 

“Well, let’s just say i decided to take the hard way out.”

Your answer stays vague, you don’t want Rosie to think you’re a weirdo— even if she is a cannibal.. maybe murdering is even crossing her own line? Does she even have any..? The bulging pain in your throat rises slightly but you ignore it for the time being. Rosie takes notice to the vague answer but doesn’t question it, she just offers you a little smile.

“I guess you wanted to kick the bucket early, eh? Well i won’t pry but if you ever need an ear I’ll lend one.”

Her smile just seems so warm and her actions seem so genuine, it reminds you of your music friends.. ah right you never got to say goodbye to them.

⋇⊶⊰  S M I L E  ⊱⊷⋇

Laughter fills the diner. As Minori poke Yuki’s pouting cheeks. The atmosphere is a light one and it’s bubbling with happiness.

“Look at your pouting face! Someone’s maad!~”

“Well i wouldn’t be if someone wasn’t in my face all of the time!”

Yuki tries to get Minori off of her but after a failed attempt she crosses her arms, and only then Minori quits as she holds a cocky grin on her face. You alongside with Rinku giggle at the sight of the two bickering like children. 

“Now let’s not be too loud and disturb the other guests!”

Rinku says as she pats Yuki’s head while holding in giggles.

“Boo your no fun!”

You all laugh in Minori’s protests as she sticks out her tongue.

⋇⊶⊰  N O   ⊱⊷⋇

A real smile creeps onto your face as you think of them, happy memories of them quickly turn bittersweet ones but you can’t help keeping a happy smile while you think of them. Rosie’s smile grows as she sees your happy state. Her fingers tap alongside the tea-cup catching your attention as you stop daydreaming. 

“So, [Name] you don’t have a place to stay do you?” 

Your face perks up as you look at her eyes, you shake your head gently and you see her expression lightening up.

“Ah! Well I’ve got this suggestion! You see the Princess of hell has recently opened a hotel— and it’s one of a kind, she wishes to rehabilitate sinners just like yourself! The news may have been aired not long ago but it’s still the talk of the town! I also believe it’s a good thing for you, you deserve a second chance! You’re still a kid and hadn’t had time to experience everything the (under)world has to offer yet!”

Rosie keeps her content smile while looking your way. Suddenly she stands up as she walks over to a cabinet, the hinges whine as she opens them and starts looking for something;

“But it’s funny really, the hotel is a laughing stock of hell at the moment. At first she was only meant to promote her hotel on the news, but she burst into song! It was quite catchy if i do say so myself.”

Failing? Why would it, was she a bad singer? No..Rosie liked her song and you trust her judgement. You hear Rosie let out a content ‘aha!’ As she turns and walks over to you with a newspaper in hand. She flips through pages before landing on a certain one, place the newspaper on the table. Your eyes scan through the page and then you see the headline ’666 news disaster Charlotte Mourningstar makes a fool of herself on live tv’. The bold headliner makes you giggle slightly.

Rosie has a chipper tone, she’s enjoying gossiping about this topic a bunch it seems. Her offer was sweet really however you feel uneasy. You have just entered hell and you’re now gonna join a hotel? Are you really ready to start working on yourself when you barely know the rules of hell? No.. but an idea enters your mind. Maybe just maybe—

“Rosie, the offer sounds tempting really but i don’t believe I’m quite ready to work on myself just yet.. i was thinking maybe.. could i stay here.?”

You knew it was a selfish ask, but you really felt comfortable with Rosie, she was a kind lady and you knew you could trust her. If you were able to stay here— even only for a little it would mean the (under)world to you. Rosie places her index finger and thumb between her chin, as she considers your question.

After what felt like minutes she finally speaks up;

“I’ll tell you what, i offer you a place to stay and you help me around the parlor of the emporium! That charming attitude is sure to help my business! No contract necessary.”

You can’t help but light up at her offer, you felt lucky to have meet her, your hands clasp together as you offer her a bright smile;

“I’d love that!”

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[corkinavoid]

Fun Facts about Fiance to a Star

It's just a lore/worldbuilding dump that doesn't fit in the fic (this fic), and I am ¾ done with translating chapter 3, wow

The Tower is the name of the building itself while the Academy of Magic is the name of the institution that lies within it. Contrary to Tim's belief, it has not been designed by demons but rather by the joined efforts of the Ancients and a few trusted humans whose names have been long lost in history. It is cylindrical and structured like a donut if you look at it from the top: the outer layer being the hallways, encircling each floor, then the classrooms/rooms and a well-like room in the middle that goes from the third floor all the way to the roof. There are no stairs between the floors but there are three elevators for you to use.

Although, on the account of the Tower not abiding by any laws of logic and physics, Tim was right: most of the places inside the Tower are magically changed or enhanced, hence the classrooms and public places are much larger than they are architecturally supposed to and the hallways are a lot shorter than you would think. The trick to getting where you need quickly is to simply know exactly where you're going.

The Tower has thirteen floors on the ground and four underground floors. The first floor is accessible to any and everyone seeking the help or advice from the Academy, while the rest can only be accessed depending on your status and reason for entry. The indication of your status in the Tower is a pass in a shape of the emblem of the Academy which can be worn as a pin, a necklace or in any other way you want. The different passes are made of different materials and have varying charms and spells on them.

Iron pass is for guests and visitors. It allows you to go anywhere from the first to the third floor, which are the main hallway and the registration on the first floor, the dorms and rooms for both guests and students on the second, and the general areas such as cafeteria, training grounds and study on the third.

Silver pass is for the fist-year students. It gives you all the above and additional access to the fourth and fifth floor, which are mostly classrooms and a library.

White gold pass is for the second-years and the sixth and seventh floor. The sixth floor also contains mostly classrooms while the seventh floor has a few laboratories and workshops.

Platinum pass is for third-years and eighth and ninth floor. There you can find a much bigger library and a few classrooms and labs specific to various advanced courses.

Mithril pass is issued to fourth-years both as the pass to the tenth floor and a graduation gift. The tenth floor contains the exhibit of artifacts and the so called 'cursed library'.

While the passes are mostly needed to access the floors of the Tower, they are also commonly used as an indication of status and achievement outside of Academy. They also have a fairly practical use: aside from the standard spells incorporated in the passes (simple shield, acess to the floors, identification) you can enchant your pass with as many spells as you want as long as the pass can take it. Silver passes are only able to hold two or three additional spells, while Mithril ones could be turned into an artifact and hold up to thirty different spells.

The other passes include Gold pass for researchers (first to tenth floor and the underground floors), Rose gold pass for teachers and administration (first to thirteenth floor) and the Unnamed pass for the Headmaster, his confidants and a few others (all the floors).