#but only for themselves and APPARENTLY humans | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bnhaobservation · 3 days ago

Note

I've been thinking about your Shoji/Spinner post and how UA-exceptionalism politics play into his perspective. The idea that you have to be the best and show them you're good, perform heroism...and then you'll be treated well. "Talented tenth," "model minority," etc.

I think about Shoji going to class everyday: he's always humble, never speaks out of turn. And yet he knows there are still people who fear him or distance themselves. He has to be a model student; there is actually no other option in his world. And yet more human-looking characters Bakugou or Endeavor can be hotheaded, viscerally violent at times (in public and private) and they still hold high rankings at various points of the story. It puts Shoji in a difficult mindset where he feels like he has to earn and keep proving his humanity for others.

My biggest pet peeve about the "violence vs non-violence" argument is that it gravely underestimates the purposeful aims of many non-violence movements (e.g MLK promoted non-violence such that it would be televised and garner sympathy from white moderates when it was shown that police were beating peaceful black protesters). It forces a MLK vs Malcom X media dynamic which hides the fact that BOTH sought improved treatments, access and resources for their communities. It splits the vote essentially, either you are "for peace" or against it. Hence, Shoji is rewarded for his peaceful heroism and Spinner is detained :(

There is no question really in this, I just hate how vapidly MHA skates over its own material.

The real problem of BNHA is that it doesn't want to ponder or criticize the status quo, the society, yet uses society's sins to create drama in the story and then ask us to just pretend everything is fine as it is, that bringing back things how they were is the right option and all people needed was getting inspired by Midoriya to help Heroes becoming Heroes in turn while Uraraka just fixes the bug of Quirk counseling apparently so easily one wonders why they didn't do it before.

Now, about the points you raised...

I'm blaming most of what I'm about to say to BNHA writing but I see Shouji as different from how you describe him… though it’s also possible I’m misunderstanding you so, if that’s the case, I apologize.

The way I see it, in BNHA Shouji is not helpless, he actually had other options.

He had to have other options because the narrative trick with Shouji is that he’s meant to be Horikoshi’s poster boy for his beliefs on how someone discriminated should choose to behave, not for how someone discriminated is forced to behave.

So Shouji is given choices. He’s in a big city and in U.A. high where NO ONE would fear him or distance themselves due to him being a Heteromorph because, somehow, magically, discrimination doesn’t exist or is negligible in big cities and U.A. is populated solely by nice kids and teachers who has no idea what discrimination is (it’s the whole thing with chap 370/371), and so Shouji can choose how to act and, mind you, this doesn’t mean his only other option is to become a Villain like Spinner.

We see Heteromorphs in the story choosing to act differently from Shouji, we’ve Tokoyami indulging in his love for darkness without fear of looking a creepy Heteromorph, Iida is impositive, Tsubasa, Midoriya’s childhood friend, was a bully along with Bakugou because somehow being Quirkless is worse than being an Heteromorph in fact in Midoriya’s class we’ve plenty of Heteromorph kids but Midoriya is the one who gets bullied, Asui tells people directly whatever goes in her mind, Mineta is basically a pervert who harasses girls. None of those kids feel they’ve to act same as Shouji because they’re Heteromorphs.

Among the adults we’ve Hawks, who rudely interrupts Crust’s speech and kind of challenges Enji with his words, Mirko, who’s openly bloodthirsty/violent and, more important than all, Gang Orca, who’s ranked third among heroes who look like villains, likes to play over with an image of someone who's menacing and ruthless, acting like a true villain during the latter stages of the Provisional Licensing Exam and being rude with the students in the provisional license exam… but when All Might was Number 1 was Number 10 in the normal Hero Billboard Chart and then went down to Number 12 when Enji was Number 1, making space for people like Kamui Wood and Wash.

(Yeah, some of the characters I mentioned are more human looking than others so they likely received less discrimination, but they’re all labeled as Heteromorphs.)

Anyway Shouji has options, he can choose to be like one of them, it’s just HE CHOSE to be the person he is, because he wants to be an example, a shining star for Heteromorphs who live in small cities and are discriminated. He believes by being the best version of himself things will change for Heteromorphs.

While calling it propaganda wouldn’t be exactly fair because his behavior is actually based on a widespread Japanese belief that if you don’t speak of discrimination and act in a perfect way, discrimination will die out on its own, still Horikoshi is using Shouji to promote this belief to new generations… so there’s a certain dose of propaganda.

He’s telling discriminated kids that they’ve to CHOOSE to act like Shouji, not because they’ve no other options, but because that’s the right way to act, the admirable way to act, the Hero way to act.

There’s also to remember that being humble, polite, well-mannered, and having a high level of orderliness is considered a characteristic traits of the Japanese people, not something exceptional, so it’s characters like Bakugou who are the odd ones (even though they’re popular in manga and anime), not characters like Shouji… and Bakugou and Enji do suffer consequences for their behavior.

Enji’s ranking is tied to two factors, how many cases he solves and how much he’s liked. He solves more cases than any Hero in Japan, All Might included but HE PAYS for his behavior in terms of being low in the liking ranking. When Enji became Number 1, if being liked was all that mattered, he would have been 4th, after Hawks, Best Jeanist and Edgeshot. And if All Might were still active he would have been behind him as well.

Enji is technically better at his job than All Might because he saves more people, fix more problems (and All Might was very good at his job) but, since his behavior suck, he’s the eternal Number Two. Gang Orca is 3rd In the Heroes who look like Villains ranking, but Enji is NUMBER ONE there without even needing to be a Heteromorph.

Hawks, an Heteromorph, isn’t behind Enji because he’s an Heteromorph, despite being fast as hell he still solves less cases than him.

As for Bakugou he won’t pass the provisional license exam because he’s rude with the ones pretending to be wounded. Note that his assessment of their injuries was right, but he loses points for his behavior and, at the end of the story, we see he has a low ranking, even way lower than Enji’s used to have, exactly due to this.

So no, in the story their behavior does damage their ranking, and if they still manage to come high that’s merely due to them being EXTREMELY GOOD at their job, not about them being allowed a pass.

Would they have it harder if they were Heteromorph and ‘give the creeps’ at people?

In the real world I’m pretty sure the answer would be ‘yes’, in BNHA though, I doubt it.

Note how basically Enji presents himself wrapped in flames as often as he can because he wants to look scary. If it wasn’t that he can turn his flames off, being wrapped in flames would be an Heteromorphic trait (in order of being a Heteromorph you need to have a body that has something that’s PERMANENTLY shaped differently from humans… which doesn’t mean it’s just animal looking, constantly wrapped in flames might as well fit the criteria) so in his line of work being scary looking can be judged as something that gives an advantage.

So, back to Shouji, he is supposed to be strong, he’s supposed to be a Hero so in BNHA he can’t act for his own self. He chooses to act the way he does, not because he thinks he has to earn and keep proving his humanity to others but because he wants to tear down the wall of discrimination for other people who’re discriminated.

It’s the same with the whole ‘don’t get angry for your own sake but get angry for other people’s sake’. Shouji, as the poster boy of how we should act, isn’t acting in a certain way for his own sake, in order for him to be accepted, but for the sake of other Heteromorphs, to pave their ways toward the future.

My problem with BNHA non-violent approach to discrimination is that I don’t see it as functional to the cause of discriminated people.

It’s basically asking them to suffer in silence and adhere to higher standard of behavior in hope discrimination will eventually disappear, while, at the same time, telling them if they can’t bear it and snap they’re Villains and they will be repressed as hard as possible (while their abusers will be left free to continue with their lives because abusing them wasn’t legally a crime).

Society is mostly excused for its discriminatory/abusive behavior, they didn’t know any better, they were scared, they didn’t do anything illegal, they were just being immature and so on.

Shouji wants to solve conflicts between Heteromorphs and other people peacefully, not just put in jail who thinks it’s okay to scar children because they’re Heteromorphs.

It fits with the Japanese idea of the importance of getting along in harmony but boys… surely is convenient for the abusers.

To make matters worse, Horikoshi deliberately pinned all that there could be that was negative on the Villains’ approach so that it would be viewed as negatively as possible.

Let’s merely look at the whole Hospital attack arc.

For start Shuuichi couldn’t care less about the cause, he didn’t mean to become the poster boy for the Heteromorphs, he just wants to save Tomura, he’s not there to help them.

The PLF advisor is carrying on Re-Destro’s ideals, he doesn’t want to establish a world where discrimination doesn’t exist, it just wants people to be discriminated for different things. We saw in Deika how the back then MLA would want in their ranks Heteromorphs with strong Quirks but were all for dumping Shuuichi because they found his Quirk weak and useless.

The people that rioted at the hospital were manipulated and had they done everything according to program and had AFO won… well, most of them probably wouldn’t have seen any progress in their status.

Their actions also painted in the worst way possible as Horikoshi set up things so they aren’t attacking a prison where Kurogiri is jailed, no, they seem to want to attack the poor patients of a hospital and the heroic doctors defending them, even if they actually only wanted to free Kurogiri.

And let’s not forget how Shuuichi can’t counter what Shouji says because his brain is fried for most of the time so he makes some serious blunders or how Shouji insists they needed to have a plan to protect the people at the hospital.

In short the use of violence is strongly condemned when you’re a victim trying to take justice into your hands, but it’s considered a perfectly viable option when you’re instead someone working for the state, in fact as soon as Kurogiri is freed and send Himiko and Touya on Hawks’ same battleground the latter urges to kill them. Present Mic too was considering killing Kurogiri, using the convenient excuse he was created out of Shirakumo’s dead body, even though Kurogiri is a living being with a personality and wishes of his own, not an empty doll.

The story after all end with Midoriya, a teen, killing Tomura and everyone thinking he’d done the right thing so it’s definitely not a work against violence, as long as violence is used by government officers for the sake of what is considered the ‘decent society’ and people can only try to force themselves to fit with it or be repressed but yes, BNHA says, it would be nice if everyone were to also be nice with those in troubles, so as to make easier for them to fit before they’ll decide to turn into Villains.

I’m oversimplifying and it’s not all that bad but the broad message is this, no matter what you suffered and how bad society treated you, YOU CAN’T TURN AGAINST SOCIETY, you’ve to bear it, be a good person and hope for the best.

The story doesn’t present a single middle way of going against the society, going against society is always harshly punished, even Gentle Criminal, whose crimes were risible, end up stuck in jail and is freed merely because he single handedly stopper a jailbreak while the government can have a private serial killer to execute Heroes who act in a way that’s not fitting, a private serial killer that’s jailed only when he tries to rebel to the government and ends up killing the president of the HPSC because otherwise the latter would have killed her.

None of the kid Heroes, when facing the Villains, can tell them they should have rebelled in a different, non-violent way, they should have just put up with it until a Hero were to come or their abuser were to decide to stop because they had showed him they were so good they didn’t deserve it, and they were wrong for not doing so.

None of the Heroes will then try to pursue their abusers it’s never, you were wrong reacting with violence but they weren’t right, we see it with ordinary woman, and Midoriya telling her that the people attacked her just because they were scared. Midoriya wants Overhaul to apologize to Eri but those guys shouldn’t apologize to Ordinary Woman and nothing is done against the shelters that refused to give her hospitality. She just has to be a good model person and endure until U.A high takes her in.

This is the ruling idea in the story, endure abuse and be your best self while as long as the abuser doesn’t break law, no one will hold it against them, the most they’ll do is learn to become a better person.

And honestly sorry, but I think this kind of society where there are no technical consequences for abusers (legal or based on interactions) but only karmic (at best they end up on facing hardship that's technically generated by the consequences of their actions) is not one that would get inspired by Midoriya beating Tomura to offer a helping hand to people in need. If anything they would get inspired to preventively squash even harder who they don’t like and don’t serve/had served their purposes and, at most, they might not take for granted and handle a little better Heroes as they discovered they need them but that’s it.

In a society with no compassion for who’s miserable, in a society with no mercy for who did wrong, I don’t really expect genuine kindness for the different/weak/in need ones as they aren’t needed and, same as in Horikoshi’s story, is convenient if they just die out.

Sorry, this turned kind of dark, but really to me BNHA ending is depressing, not hopeful like Horikoshi likes to believe.

Still, thank you for your ask!

#boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha meta #bnha meta #bnha critical #Shouji Mezou #Iguchi Shuuichi #Ask

30 notes · View notes

ssaalexblake · 2 days ago

Text

I feel sorry for Dae-Ho because this guy Clearly had serious issues with men touching him in S2, friendly embraces from men bothered him viscerally. He dodges away from Jung-Bae's very jovial physicality Twice in the season. Once could be a blip. In a TV show, twice is never an accident, it's a pattern. He also expertly changes the subject one of those times, too. It's how we end up learning everybody's names.

He's clearly trying to take care of Jun-Hee in a brotherly fashion and is frequently found in the bg making sure she's okay, he's considerate of her and caring of her pregnancy. He's good at girly games, apparently. He's asked why he was a marine after he says he can do the girl game and had all those sisters and makes a comment about a father wanting to Toughen Him Up and very quickly moves from That subject too.

(I imagine that pentathlon is the first time anybody's ever validated him for what he Can actually do well, from the looks of it)

Such a nasty picture is painted only with those bare facts. He's a friendly guy, wants to do the good thing, has skills labelled 'feminine' and you Know exactly what crap this guy got growing up for being like those four sisters of his.

Him flinching from Jung-Bae Really says so many unpleasant things.

So he Genuinely tries to step up and take part in the revolution and he's very obviously having some kind of mental breakdown the entire time (so obviously that it's actually kind of clunky imo that apparently Nobody notices it) and is hyperventilating hiding behind cover and not even looking where he fires the gun. He goes back for the ammo and can barely talk and looks like a shell of a person, and tries to go back and just hits a solid wall. Absolute limit. Can't do it.

In S3 we learn that his military service was deferred into some kind of social service, as he was judged unfit/unable to serve. I didn't need to look it up to work out that that'd come with a hell of a social stigma, but people have confirmed such in fandom anyway.

Whoever decided he wasn't mentally fit to be in a gun fight was right, actually. Quite clearly, he couldn't handle that.

His story is just another example of a discussion of stupid social stigma leading to ruin. Of men who aren't capable of whatever being in the military being called Less than because what, they're not able to fire a gun? Not willing to shoot someone? Can't deal with the way the military structures you not as a human, but as a chess piece on a board.

The tragedy is, of course, that Dae-Ho was not lesser or pathetic for not having the temperament for military service. The tragedy is it got so bad for him, and he was looked down on so much by that father of his (and most everybody else apparently), that he decided to start to fake being a marine to escape the stigma of it all.

That instead of living a life where he can accept his own limitations and acknowledge his Actual skills, he ends up in a brutal gun fight to Prove that he can do it when he Can't and that this has spiralling consequences when the rest of them can't get more ammo, and is a factor in the revolution failing.

If Dae-Ho had a a healthy respect for his Actual skills, and not just total disdain for what he Can't do, he'd not have volunteered to take part in that revolution because he'd know he can't do it.

I mean, I kind of get why they had the characters ignore his obvious mental health issue because it voices the outlooks that created the problem to start with directly in the show, but i've been very surprised to see people calling him OOC in S3 when to me, we finally got the missing puzzle piece that made him make total sense.

In the end, him and Gi-Hun who both blame themselves for what's happened use each other as scapegoats and aim their anger and derision and self disgust at each other instead, and it's brutal and ugly and ends in a murder.

And the utter irony for me is that the moment Dae-Ho attacks Gi-Hun and surrenders to that ugliness is the moment the people who've looked down on him as less than a man would have thought he was finally bucking up.

At his absolute Worst moment in the whole show.

#squid game #squid game spoilers #squid game 3 #he just makes me sad tbh #this all could have been avoided #not like he didn't help his country in a different way bc he did #... well only if you ignore the english dub that did him So evilly anyway

33 notes · View notes

ilikekidsshows · 23 hours ago

Note

I hate how Marinette immediately fell in love with Cat Walker because he's the abused Prince with no wants beyond worshipping her that she wants as her care taker.

I hate that Adrien in Adrinette still has to act like Cat Walker because Marinette can't breathe without having an abused Prince.

I loathe that Marinette's just believed Cat Walker when he put all the blame on Chat Noir to instead call her a flawless goddess of equality and justice who just wasn't taken care of enough by the evil and ungrateful Chat Noir. All that even though from Marinette's perspective, Cat Walker wouldn't know ANYTHING and never once met Chat Noir. I hate that Marinette can't ever be written anymore to care about justice when it's not in her favor. Anything bad can happen and she'll allow it as long as it's done in her favor.

I hate that Marinette stopped giving a fraction of a shit about Cat Walker the second he stopped being useful and how even her last question to him "do you feel rejected?" was selfish of her because she literally fell in love with Cat Walker because she knows he would NEVER tell her so if it was the case. I hate how obvious it is that her knowing he would never say it was the only reason why she had the guts to even ask that in the first place.

I hate how she never reached out or even gave the option of giving him another Miraculous. He had no use or space in her life beyond validating her for acting like a selfish and abusive leader and "friend".

Marinette was selfish to the core in that episode and was 1000% rewarded for all of it. Chat Noir was even blamed for HER poor hero performance in the end because she thinks he doesn't know that she sucked because she prioritized getting into Cat Walker's pants. But of course that's CHAT NOIR'S fault because what isn't in Ladynoir?

But what I hate the most is that Chat Noir only became worthy of something resembling to love when he "learned his lesson" and started acting like Cat Walker too.

Everything Marinette "loves" about Adrien and Chat Noir is Cat Walker. That's all she wants. And abused Prince Charming who would rather rip himself apart then not reward her for 5 seconds for treating him abysmally.

All she's asked to do in return is "forgive" Adrien and Chat Noir now for being human enough that their entire existences do not exclusively revolve around worshipping her, so she doesn't get to 10.000% only take benefit out of them being alive. Sometimes, they will unfortunately inconvenience her and of course that means she's just so brave, gorgeous, and loving that she manages to still see value in them despite that (please ignore in how many ways Adrichat was already human sacrificed and devalued in his personhood by her and her actions)

It hate this. I hate this so fucking much that Adrichat is only worthy of love because Marinette wants CAT WALKER but he was too distracting and didn't made Marinette feel entirely flawless about how badly she treated Chat Noir (and she can't have that, so Chat Noir has to come back and learn his lesson that he's to blame for everything! >:(

so now she had to be rewarded with Adrien and Chat Noir being the two equally messed up and human sacrifice sides of Cat Walker.

It's so disgusting that Miraculous did this to Marinette and the love square. Cat Walker should have been everything Maribug is disgusted about Adrichat's abuse, and yet, here we are. It's all the romantic worth she apparently sees in him.

---

It's been pointed out how the lovesquare copies heterosexist tropes, but sometimes reverses them so that fans can claim the show is subversive and feminist. Well, there is a stereotype of men, when they're looking for potential wives, looking for someone to take care of them in the way a mother would, which is why they don't learn to take care of themselves; they expect their future wife to take care of all the actual caretaking. I suppose we can say Miraculous is definitely reversing that stereotype by having Marinette be the one looking for a mom spouse to take care of her when she moves out.

Marinette knew exactly what Cat Walker was doing and that's why she fell the fastest and hardest she's fallen in this show so far. And, yes, it's exactly as you said: the only reason she dared to ask Cat Walker all these questions about feeling left out or rejected was because she knew full well he’d validate her treatment of Cat Noir so she could stop feeling guilty. This show is written so weirdly, Marinette supposedly can't understand that other people have feelings too that aren't always convenient for her, but she knows exactly how to manipulate everyone around her into validating her when she's been 100% in the wrong. She does this kind of stuff so much it's a clear pattern of behavior. Maybe she does it subconsciously (and by that I mean the writers).

‘Cat Walker’ is the episode that made me realize I’d never be able to enjoy Miraculous the same way again. It was the reason I dreaded it when the start of season 5 briefly seemed engaging, because, if the show had actually gotten good, I would have had to watch ‘Cat Walker’ to catch up. This episode is worse than ‘Reflekdoll’, the most despised episode among the analysis community once upon a time. It's worse than ‘Kwamibuster’, what I once thought was the lowest point this series could reach. ‘Cat Walker’ is the episode that brutally murdered Ladynoir in broad daylight.

#ml critical #ml salt #dats chats #marinette morality olympics #are the straights okay

20 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 3 days ago

Note

Hi! In honor of Father's Day (which I happily don't have, but it doesn't matter), let's imagine that the Copy and the Reader take care of their child (any gender), who is very hyperactive and loving

sorry this is so late 💀 used this as an excuse to chat about the au @grumsens and I have where reader and copia have just, an obscene amount of kids. 1.2k words of fluff.

You hadn’t been trying to get pregnant… not the first time, anyway. It was just something which happened when two people who were obsessed with each other’s bodies fucked pretty much all the time, and agreed that they were no longer fussed about birth control. Yeah, the first time had been a fluke, but when Copia had seen how round your body had become, so swollen with life that he had put in you, he simply hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself.

Or any other appendage, for that matter.

So it came to be that, by mutual agreement, you had remained permanently pregnant for pretty much the next four years because the two of you just couldn’t get enough of making babies. Now you’re faced with the consequences: a horde of little girls, as apparently your husband was incapable of siring sons.

They’re… a lot.

Lucia. Marcelina. Cassia. Donata. Annachiara and Fiorre, the twins to round it off (“they run in the family,” Sister Imperator had said cryptically). The Emeritus girls move in a pack and, though they are prone to bickering amongst themselves as sisters are wont to do, woe betide anyone who upsets one of them, for it brings down the wrath of the other five.

And, as a parent, trying to wrangle them is less successful than trying to wrangle cats.

You’d never deny your husband his career, you’re exceptionally proud of him and the work he’s doing, but all of you miss him when he’s off on tour. Harmony descends whenever he is home, something which can only be grown from a father who is totally wrapped around the little finger of every single one of his daughters, leading them all to a united cause: get dad to give us absolutely anything we want.

Today has been a lot. You’d been woken by the twins jumping on your bed - because what else was six in the morning for? - and you’d managed to get them to crawl in between you for another forty minutes of rest before they were insistent it was breakfast time. Unable to deny two five-year olds who measure their tugging in horse-power, you and Copia got up, both complaining about your bad backs and errant tiny feet in the kidneys, but accepting there was to be no more resting now the girls were Up.

Copia cooked, because he’s far better at it than you are. There’s always enough milk and eggs in the fridge to make a batch of pancakes big enough for every tiny hungry mouth around the table and your husband had slung them out as if it was his satan-given duty. The others had gotten out of bed to join at the smell, Cassia with her nose in a book, Donata skittering under the table to chase a spider. She had come out of the womb more ghoul than human, that one, but to be fair that’s because technically Copia had been her birth-giver rather than you, so more Satanic magic had been involved.

It was a long story.

Lucia - stepping into her role as the leader of the pack as the eldest, not something you asked for but something she gravitated to anyway as it let her boss the younger ones around a bit - had dragged Marcelina and the table had been full: full of girls vying for their parents’ attention, of you running around to make sure everyone had their preferred pancake topping, of Copia dashing to the stove every thirty seconds to make sure nothing burned.

And that was just breakfast.

The weather was nice so the group of you headed outside into the Ministry gardens, allowing the girls to run around and blow off some steam while the two of you sat in the grass (Copia affectionately leaning his head in your lap). Eventually you were both dragged into playing tag as well, though you were getting too old for running around the two of you were powerless against six sets of pleading eyes. Pack tactics at work again.

The day was not without its struggles (“PAPA, DO YOU WANT TO SEE HOW HARD I CAN KICK?!” Marcelina had screamed, and then not waited for Copia to give a response before driving her answer into his shin with her foot) but nobody was at each other’s throat too badly that day, the twins had only pulled each other’s hair once, and Donata’s bites were not skin-breaking.

Now afternoon is dripping into evening, the sun going down and the girls getting sleepy. You can hear Copia’s soft singsong voice float out from the living room as he reads them a story. You poke your head around the door and melt at what you see: he sits in the middle of the sofa in a tangle of limbs as they all attempt to find a bit of him to lean against, sleepy eyes all drawn to the page as his cadence lolls them to sleep. A tired yawn, a nuzzle into his shirt as they try and fight drifting off.

“‘No, except that Brett and I are a little worried about the dog.’ ‘Your Saint Bernard?’” Copia changes the affectations in his voice to show each new character and the girls are entranced.

“I like when you do the voices, papa,” Cassia mumbles, her eyes tearing off the page to look up at him. Copia smiles down at her.

“Well, I like doing the voices for you, principessina,” he says, and she giggles.

“What are we reading tonight?” you ask. Copia flashes you the book cover - Cujo by Stephen King.

“It’s our favourite!” Lucia implores when you purse your lips.

“Can we get a dog?” Marcelina asks hopefully. You kiss your teeth.

“Sorry, you’re reading Cujo and the takeaway you got from that book was that you want to get a dog?”

“Or a bat! We all got our rabies shots when Donata was born!” Lucia reasons, and voices pipe up in agreement. “Papa, we can get a dog, right?”

You have to interject. You can see Copia is about to give in and say, yes, let’s go adopt one tomorrow! Such is the power of your daughters.

“We can talk about it another day. Right now it’s time for bed.”

A chorus of groans as you and Copia scoop them off of the sofa and wrangle them into first their pyjamas and then their beds; a dozen kisses goodnight and then a dozen more after all of them decide they need to go to the bathroom just once more. Taking them outside earlier was a good idea, they all fall asleep pretty fast.

“You’re so good with them,” you sigh, leaning on Copia’s shoulder as you look in at the twins, making sure they’re fast asleep before you leave them for the night.

“Me? No, amore, you are the star. We’d fall apart without you.”

He kisses you when the two of you sit down on the sofa, a moment alone to be clutched tightly in the chaos of the house. His hand slips down to your ass and squeezes. You hum into his mouth.

“Papa Emeritus, you’re being very handsy this evening…”

“You think I can resist my beautiful wife after a day of her being perfect? Let me have you, amore mio.” He runs his lips to the shell of your ear. “Let’s make another.”

You moan and drag him down onto the sofa.

#Cardinal Copia x reader #Papa emeritus iv x reader #The band ghost fanfic #frater imperator x reader #Also don’t read Cujo to your kids.

18 notes · View notes

threepandas · 1 year ago

Text

Bad End: Happy Hunting! (1)

I should have known better. They told us. TRAINED US. Over and over, drilled into our heads! Don't assume! Don't PROJECT Human body language onto alien species! Think that just because they look similar, are ACTING similar, their brains are in any way WORKING similar!

Not every species pack bonds! Some of them are PREDATORS. Be CAREFUL!

I was an idiot. A fucking IDIOT!

I gasped for air. Ran. Ran and ran and RAN. Desperately trying to put distance between me and the hunters behind me. I could hear screams. Crashing. The sound of weapon fire. The air here wasn't RIGHT. Too high in oxygen? Too low? Some other trace element, slowly poisoning my lungs?

I didn't know. Scared! Oh god, I'm so scared!

I thought he was my friend!

Thought THEY were my friends! Stupid. So God damned stupid! You really will pack bond with ANYTHING, won't you?! They bare their teeth and you fucking thought it was a SMILE! No wonder I barely graduated. They never should have-!

A root catches my foot.

Crashing to the mulch of the forest floor. Scramble to get up. My ankle on fire. Hurts. Oh god it hurts! Ignore it. Go! Keep going! Gotta get OUT! Find a ship. Any ship! Radio for help!

All the trees look the same. Am I even going in a straight line? Deeper or across? Away from civilization? I don't know how to survive here! Can I even drink the water? No. Run! Just RUN! Nothing else!

I can't hear them.

Him.

I thought he was my friend.

My grades were shit. Worst of the Best, but ultimately good enough. Got to see the stars. The galaxy. Meet real life aliens. Was a glorified gofer for the Earthling Diplomat's Entourage. Galactic Council offered staff. Wasn't really an offer. We took um. Some of them were the "better" guards then the super military badasses we had brought.

Military badasses were pretty offended.

But I was a gofer. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Just here for the aliens, right? Yay getting to meet some, right? I couldn't even PRONOUNCE their species name. I was mortified. Tried my damnedest. They thought it was hilarious. My pronunciation was god awful. Was calling them the cutesy babified version of "office chair".

Met Wolfe. He seemed FRIENDLY. Kind. Considerate. He told jokes. Asked about my day. I started sharing. Hobbies and interests. Stories about home. Explained weird human behaviors. We were close. I... I thought we were close! Was it a lie? Was everything A LIE!?

When my rotation in space was coming to an end, I was SAD! Fucking HEARTBROKEN! That I might never see my friends again. Since communication between our two planets wasn't even stabilized yet. Might never be. I wanted to savor our time together. Treasure it!

But then things started to go wrong.

Random malfunctions, that delayed and delayed us. Lost communications that nearly caused interplanetary incidents. Took days and weeks to fix at a time. People went MISSING. We looked. Every time we LOOKED!

They're dead, aren't they? Oh god. Dozens of crew members DEAD.

Then the engine "broke". Conveniently just close enough for us to make an emergency landing on this planet! And oh, would you look at THAT! A sacred cultural festival!? They won't help us unless we join in.

It's a MARRIAGE HUNT.

Heavy emphasis on the HUNT part!

They weren't surprised. Not a single one. Every last one just turned too different people and... and...! Wolfe planned this. THEY planned this! We're gonna die. I trusted him and now I'm gonna DIE! Can't breathe! Branches whipping at my arms and hair and face, as I RUN. Down slopes. Across shallow rivers. Even as my limbs BURN. I... I HAVE TOO-!

A powerful wall of muscle slams into me.

I scream. Thrash, even as I fall. My arms are easily tucked and pinned against my side, as the body covering mine rolls with me down a slight incline. The smell of wet plant matter and upturned soil thick in the strange air. Dizzy. I feel sick. Oh god please no!

Heat and pressure pin me down. Arms like thick steel bands. Still, I struggle, like a cornered animal. I have too. They always tell you to FIGHT. Only chance and survival. The deep rumble of crooned reassurances in an alien dialect fill my ear. I can feel how DEEPLY he breathes me in, before each sentence. Like hes been holding back and finally no longer has too, is giddy with it. How his hands already spread possessively, eager to explore.

And he's strong. Oh god, he's so strong! Please please please! Let go. LET GO!

"Shhhhhh shh shh, is 'okay' now. I have you. You ran so hard! Did so well! My precious little human~ so brave. So strong. You did it! Now, no one can EVER seperate us! You don't have to worry anymore. No more tears~" Hunter, Warrior, oh god it was never a GRIN-! His teeth are so sharp. Pressed so close to my skin!

"I'll take care of EVERYTHING~"

I'm scared.

#threepandas #yandere #bad end happy hunting au #bad end au #yanderecore #yandere x reader #alien gaurd yandere #marriage hunt #yandere x darling #and yes #they DID Amoung Us the everyone in their way #they are the Yandere Race #but only for themselves and APPARENTLY humans #its an interplanetary incident #whoops #predator/prey

165 notes · View notes

autistic-shaiapouf · 9 months ago

Text

Hanging out and waiting for the flea spray to dry and then I get to vacuum again and wipe down everything in my room!!! Yippee!!!!

#yeah I'm. bruh these days off are starting to feel a lot less like days off #I'm washing as much as i can get my hands on too to try to get all this in one go #i haven't seen a whole bunch of fleas so i don't think the infestation is too bad but I've nuked my room with raid #i already had the window open so hopefully that doesn't minimize the effect but there was no other way to open it #if not beforehand; opened both doors too; it's gonna be 500 degrees in here but hopefully flea free #besides apparently cat fleas can't fully sustain themselves on human hosts so the population may have already been #destabilizing on its own especially with how often i vacuum; crossing my fingers guys i really hope this is it!!#i havent been bitten in the past few days + only saw one when i was shuffling everything around for spraying #the stuffed animals.. might be able to park in the sun and leave them in my car to heat treat them? idk if that's enough #gonna have to play it by ear and take it from there #only didn't get the carpet on the stairs bc it's not a place where people stay and i imagine fleas wouldn't hang out #where there isn't a food source; yes I'm aware of the eggs and the pupae withstanding bad elements but also.#please let this be it 👁👁#shai speaks #going to the doc on wednesday and treating the lice and i will finally be rid of parasites. god.

2 notes · View notes

hello-eeveev · 10 months ago

Text

this twitter thread really got to me. because yeah. it is a torment and it is a blessing, and the reward comes from struggling through pinning down the vast expanse of your imagination to the written word. the self is inherent to the process. the way we experience the world influences how we describe it in language and how we organize it into something told linearly.

yeah. I care about writing stories so much. I care about how I tell them and the way I tell them because the process is what makes the story. somewhere between all the floating plot points in your head and the trying to put it into the right words in the right order, the life essence of the story generates itself.

to surrender the process to something that does not experience the magnificent struggle of being alive is a tremendous loss.

#I have never been a fan of the idea of ai art. it feels like a diminishing of our humanity if I’m being (only slightly) dramatic about it #but idk man the thought of normalizing ai writing is particularly egregious to me #I would legitimately be worse off as a person if I had never written fiction #there were some things that I don’t think my emotionally illiterate teenage self could have recognized well enough to discuss w/anyone #but which made themselves apparent to me through the fiction writing I did #even now getting a piece of paper or my notes app and just going is one of the best methods for me to figure out the root of a funk #being able to express *yourself* through language is so so so important. we can’t give it up.#I am grabbing you all by the shoulders. do not give it up.#eve talks #writing

4 notes · View notes

backpackingspace · 3 months ago

Text

Owls 🤝 cats surprise bodily launching themselves at people/animals to play and then being confused about why that didn't go well

#Owls #Cats #Today in my owl book I learned that owls will try to play tag with humans /other animals #And that cats are the only ones to play back #Which was not something I excepted at all #Apparently bird scientist have caught owls and cats wacking the shit out of the other than being chased and then #Cuddling with each other when they get tired #Animal facts #Fun facts #What an owl knows #To be fair I don't think the owl cats playing together is a common thing but it is a thing #Young owls launching themselves at humans talons out: TAG #Humans: what the fuckkk #Cats: hiding at the bottom of steps to launch themselves at humans claws out: play time!!!!#Owls and cats are you? My best friend?

0 notes

rawme-price · 4 days ago

Text

Gator!reader who is lowkey malnourished and doesnt even realize it.

You grew up surrounded by humans and thus eat alot of thier food. Any cravings for extra portions of meat and protein were quickly noted and swiftly joked about, so you simply never acted on them. It gets to the point where you prefer to eat like a human, feeling much more comfortable with this. You only associate eating like an actual hybrid with being laughed at. Kids at recess used to run away from you, saying you would eat them next...needless to say you stuck to PB&Js after that.

Of course, this habit carried into ur eventual placement with the 141, no one caught it before bc gator hybrids are pretty strong even when malnourished. Even then, you try to eat alone when possible, so its only after you warm up to them that things start to get concerning. They notice how your meals are exceptionally small, and severely lacking in any protein. Ur plate looks like a light snack next to prices.

They think at first its deliberate, stressing amongst themselves how to help you. You seem to be the closest with gaz, so he offers to be the one to ask. After dinner, he pulls you aside into a small alcove, hand lightly on ur bicep in a comforting gesture.

"You alright, love? Anything....Anything bothering you?" Hes hoping its just stress, or someone being mean to you, something he can fix. But when you seem confused about his question, he continues.

"Its just, your meals. They've been a bit small, yeah? And i dont think ive seen you actually eat any meat." You glance away, nervous. Had you been younger you may have rumbles or lashed ur tail, but those impulses have long since died.

"Uhm, its fine? I just prefer more human meals, I guess. Look, its not a big deal, okay? Don't worry about it." You push past gaz before he can say more. He doesnt see you the rest of the week, you dont show up to meals or hang out with him. The others see you, but you seem more tense even then, nervous and jumpy.

Price has to set his foot down when you have to pause while walking down the hall twice because you felt dizzy. He forces you to go to medical, and instead of maybe the confirmation that you were underfed he was expecting, ur rushed into a patient room.

Apparently you were worse off than expected, and now the guys aren't allowed to see you at your own request.

#whoah projecting onto gator reader whos surprised rommy #cw ed #cw forced treatment #cod #cod angst #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #141 x reader #141 reader #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 #hybrid reader #hybrid 141

1K notes · View notes

milkymiks · 24 days ago

Text

Danny can’t find Jason, he’s too young of a ghost, powerful, but inexperienced. He knew that Jason is from another universe, but he can’t access that Universe, having been relying on the fenton portal for going in and out of the ghost zone. Sam and Tucker can only do so much but they did what they can and Danny is grateful for their efforts.

Years went by, longer than how long Jason had been with them, They’re in 2nd year college now and Jazz is graduating. Danny had been crowned the King of Infinite Realms despite his futile attempts at prolonging it, ‘A year after your legal maturity day is the perfect time’ As Clockwork had said. Still no sign of Jason.

It happened a year later.

Danny, drowning in bureaucratic shit that the ancients had decided to set aside despite their own ability to solve those problems themselves only to dump them in an inexperienced newly unwillingly crowned King. Danny is also in his third year of college that means his human identity is also drowning in fucking thesis papers, He’s getting nightmares just by looking at parchment and office papers.

Jason would probably laugh at him.

Jason, who has been missing for more than five years…

God Danny misses Jason, He misses sitting at the roof of a random house with him Stargazing. He misses Jason’s excited babble whenever he discusses some difference with the classic literature in this world to his’. The feeling of his core synchronizing with his…

Was he even real? No, Sam and Tucker remembers him so he wasn’t some hallucination.

Danny glances down on the paper before him, rereading the thing three times before it registered in his mind and promptly throws the parchment away from him, and because it’s paper, it only flapped pathetically on the air before smacking him in the face. He sighed.

___

“Fuck we were too late! they’re almost complete with the chanting!” Constantine curses, sees the runes etched on the floor and pales.

“What exactly are we dealing with here?” Batman grunts, They’re a good feet away from the cloaked figures. The warehouse is dark, the only light source coming from the green flamed candles surrounding the runes.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but the sudden shift in the atmosphere earlier was heavy, I thought they were summoning demons, That we can deal with. This is so much worse”

“Get to the point” Batman turned to the other’s “apprehend the cloaked figures, especially the one in the middle, we need to know their intentions” Dick nodded and saluted “Roger that” He and the other bat’s got to work. Zatanna started to seal the area around the runes to keep whatever was about to be summoned inside.

“They’re summoning the High King of the Infinite Realms, The infinite realms is the border between all universes and where everyone that dies, ends up to. I don’t know how they managed to conjure all the materials needed to but they’re summoning a GOD!” Constantine is panicking “And I don’t even want to touch the shit that’s happening inside there with a ten foot pole but I do know the king is a tyrant!”

“Hah! It’s too late! This is as fated from the scriptures, Pariah Dark will free us and govern the world with his greatness!” The deranged leader said, laughing in his binds as Red Robin easily kept him down. In front of them the runes lit up with a bright green, the ground shook as the cloaked leader’s deranged laughter increased.

A large black whispy arm shot out from the ground in the middle of the summoning circle, followed by a head, A flaming crown on top, then a body, its jagged rib cage outside framing his torso. everything about it looked off, apparently even for the cult leader that summoned it.

“Wha-?! You’re not Pariah Dark!” He screamed and thrashed in Red Robin's hold, who held him down with a foot on his back.

Its white eerie eyes darted down to him, It seemed to take full offense as it bent down and hisses “Do I look like Pariah Dark?” Its voice is like fork grating on a chalkboard, every mortal in the room winced, especially Red Robin who is closer in proximity.

The King straightened up and swept its cold eyes across the room “Why am I called here?” It sounded annoyed, like they’re just ants wasting its time, which in retrospect they were.

“I swear I changed the summoning requirements…” It muttered, which was heard by everyone. A hint of humanity, they could use this. It’s obviously a new King but they have to thread carefully.

Constantine stepped forward and bowed “High King of the infinite realms, we deeply apologize on behalf of these cult for wasting your time. We want nothing of the sort from you and we only wish to be on your good side”

It looked and stared at Constantine for a good moment before it lunged with rage, only stopped by the summoning circle and Zatanna’s barrier “YOU!!!!”

Constantine stumbled a step back in shock at the absolute hatred brimming the King's eyes.

“You’re the major cause of my headache’s! Who the fuck sells their soul to different entity’s when you only got one?! You whore! I have a special cabinet just full of your paperwork shit! I ought to just kill you and slice your core into ten so I’ll have one less ton of paperwork to deal with!”

It smashes its fist on the barrier and a resounding ‘crack’ echoed across the warehouse.

Constantine can feel Batman’s glare on the back of his head, Zatanna’s strengthening the barrier but the King doesn’t seem to care.

The other bats have gathered the cultist to one side of the room far away from the summoning circle and they stood waiting for orders dealing with their new problem.

Danny sighed, he wanted to finish up until section J but he still has to deal with this. He looked consideringly at the flimsy barrier keeping him, the only reason he stayed was so he wouldn’t scare the superhero team gathered around already securing the cult that was the cause of this shit. Also this is a new universe, not unheard of as he knew a lot of ghosts from this universe and other variants, Just that he hasn’t had the time to visit as many universes as he would’ve liked.

Ever since taking the crown his powers grew exponentially and he gained the ability to cross other universes as he liked. It’s just that the few Universes he managed to visit didn’t have His Jason in it. And there are infinite universes, it’s like finding a microscopic needle in a pit of hay.

He shifted from his eldritch form to something more fitted for royalty. It wouldn’t hurt to check this universe out. The cult summoning him had been knowledgeable but not enough, They only bound their souls to him as an offering so he isn’t required to grant whatever wishes they would have liked.

Danny flew out of the summoning circle and the barrier, He could make acquaintances with the people here. The guy in black and blue spandex looks friendly.

Batman and the other’s watched as the King turned into a more human form and tore through Zatanna’s barrier with no problem, floating down and seemed to say something before he froze, eye’s widening, and then he shot off.

“Nightwing, Robin, I trust you two to finish this up and hand them over to the GCPD. The rest of you let’s go, we can’t trust an unknown entity to roam free”

“It’s headed towards the docks” Zatanna informed them, already ahead in locating their wayward King.

Batman frowned, The docks, It’s where Red Hood currently is, he turned down the emergency call claiming he already had other plans. He caught wind of another unauthorized drug trade starting to circulate when the alley kids helpfully informed him of unfamiliar men trying to sell them drugs and a few attempts of kidnapping. Everyone knew each other in crime alley and one of the main rules Red Hood has is to not involve kids.

#dead on main #danny fenton #jason todd #danny phantom #red hood #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #jason todd x danny fenton #Constantine and the others r prolly ooc but at this point idc #And Danny's powers? idk I'm only halfway thru Danny Phantom im just winging it

2K notes · View notes

solxamber · 9 months ago

Text

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

also sorry for the neige slander, I don't hate him but vdc broke me

#Vil x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #au: nobility #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #trash novel chronicles #fem reader

3K notes · View notes

freeandiwill · 12 days ago

Text

Guessing each of the Saja Boys’ deals with Gwi-Ma

I don’t know if this has been done yet but I just find them really hot fascinating okay?

Jinu

Okay, so this one we obviously already know- He abandoned his family to become a musician and live a luxurious life. This allows him to have an extraordinary singing voice, which is obviously his overall appeal as a boyband leader. Since this is directly stated this movie, it gives us a good guideline going forward with the rest of them; something that is still present in their current depreciation and overall serves to their benefit, even though they had to make a sacrifice to get it.

Since the rest of the band is extremely underportrayed this whole movie, I get to be a bit creative with my theories. Feel free to contribute your own ideas!

Abby/Abs

Obviously he is extremely muscular but I don’t think it’s a pure vanity thing. So I’m gonna say he wished for inhuman strength to defend himself during a time of violence and conflict. He wanted to feel less helpless and vulnerable in the midst of chaos, but this came at the price of him going mad with power and hurting innocent people, unable to tell a friend from an enemy. He still believes he’s a monster that can snap at any minute, relishing in some of the leverage that gives him (being a demon) but also fear that he may not have total control over himself.

Baby

The name seems pretty blatant- I think he wished for infinite youth and beauty. He was incredibly discomforted by the sight of those around him slowly aging. He constantly saw people becoming weaker and frailer, less capable of doing things themselves. Their skin sagged, their hair grayed, society seemed to find them more and more of an ugly nuisance. And it absolutely terrified him, so he asked to be spared from it. Unfortunately, he still had to watch the world around him changed while he stayed preserved, locked in time. The degradation and decay of humanity soon became more and more apparent, terrifying him further, wondering if he’ll ever be next. He constantly checks himself for any minor blemishes or shifts in his appearance, growing paranoid that he may not be as perfect as he’s desperate to be.

Romance

Another no-brainer, He wished a girl to fall in love and marry him. Aladdin-style, as in she was above his status and could never consider him as a husband until he placed himself in the same league as her and made himself seem irresistible. It was perfect at first, until her senseless infatuation with him began to ruin their relationship. She loved him but she didn’t really like him, she hardly knew him at all. She was mindlessly obsessed, and guilt began to eat away when he realized he had practically made her a slave to his affection. Woman still find him irresistible, but he can’t bring himself to love anyone back, knowing that he utterly ruined the one he held dearest.

Mystery

Admittedly, this was the hardest for me to think of, so it’s is a bit of a stretch.

He was once known for being a gentle and kind boy, but due to unfortunate circumstances, had gotten into a very aggressive and very public argument with a close friend, ending with him killing them in a blind fit of rage. This utterly ruined his reputation, so he wished to permanently hide away and never be recognized again. He was on the run for many years, continually growing his hair over his face and changing his name until he forgot who he was, only remembering what he did and the shame it caused him. He’s still quite reserved and withdrawn, wondering if- even after all these decades later- someone will be able to point him out and expose his crime to the world.

I only did a brief amount of research for this, so I’m just waiting for one of the days where a maker of this movie will release a lore drop and pull one of these on me 😭⬇️

932 notes · View notes

seleneprince · 11 days ago

Text

REBORN

Gotham Cathedral, Spring.

A majestic silence reigns around her, interrupted only by the occasional sound of the giant bell ringing above her.

She would like to think is because people have finally learnt to respect her space and stopped butting their noses into her bussiness.

But no. The truth is that the church is basically empty at this hour. The only other people are old ladies and some last-minute sinner in need of confession. It's quite normal in Gotham. We all become sinners eventually, she thinks. It's unavoidable.

The first days she started to come here for her prayer hours after her accident, people whispered non-stop when she passed by and could barely conceal their stares. Shocked to see her out of all people in a cathedral. A holy place.

"I didn't know Lady Wayne was so devoted."

"I don't think she's ever been in a church before."

"How...surprising of her to step so confidently into the Lord's holy place. She certainly lacks some self-awareness."

The sheer hypocrisy delights her as much as it infuriates her.

Because first of all, who are they to question her faith? Just because she doesn't make a show out of it doesn't mean it's up to debate. She's always been taught that one's faith is meant to be private and personal. It's not a reason to boast.

Which is why she's always looked down on those people who praise the Lord's name and present themselves as "true" Christians just for appearances or to give themselves a reason for their self-righteousness.

In reality, they're the ones completely devoid of any self-awareness.

"Either that or she just doesn't care about seeming direspectful. I mean, we all know the kind of woman she is."

"I heard she's not like that anymore. Apparently, she's changed a lot since the accident. Everyone says so. It's bizarre."

"Yeah. She's behaving surprisingly well lately. There hasn't been a scandal since."

"Maybe she hit her head so badly it reprogrammed her whole personality."

Idiots. If only they knew...

Well, guess she can't really fault them for not knowing. After all, there's no way they can even imagine the truth behind her change.

"Maybe that's not really her and we're just seeing someone else with her face."

"Sure. Or maybe she actually died on the accident and her body is currently possessed by an incredibly nice spirit."

They have no idea.

She raises her eyes to the cross in front of her, its figure looming over her head as if watching, where the image of the Lord was carved in a typical representation of the moment He died for humanity's sins.

The most remembered moment of His life. This is the first thing that pops into people's minds when they think of Him. Not all the good actions, not His endless kindness, His banter with the disciplines, His sense of humour, how He dedicated his life to help the poor and stood for what was right. Not even His beautiful relationship with His family. His mother, His father Joseph, even His siblings.

No. Instead, He'll be mostly remembered like this. In His death, with iron drilled into His body and bleeding out between two criminals. Sacrificing His life for sins that weren't His.

The Bible is full of passages depicting His humanity, His miracles, yet this moment is what will be forever His symbol.

Most people claim it's meant to be a reminder of how big His heart was. Of how He became a martyr.

To her, it's always felt more like a lesson.

That no matter how good you are and how much of yourself you give for others, you'll still get screwed over by those more powerful than you if they want to. That doing the right thing won't always be rewarded.

In the end, people value life the most when it's gone.

The thing about martyrs, she thinks, is that they have to die to be worshipped.

She makes one last prayer under her breath before standing up, sealing it with a kiss to the cross that dangles from her neck, putting back under her coat. She walks around the bench quietly as to not disturb the others and makes her way to the exit in the shadows.

Her phone vibrates again in her pocket. She pulls it out to see the several missed calls, messages, e-mails and the news.

On top of all, one name persists.

A name she wishes to never think of again.

Mr Wayne🙄

Where are you?

Seriously, where are you?

Don't you dare ignore me now.

You can't be serious.

I just found it laying on my desk this morning. Is this some sick joke of yours?

It better be.

I swear to God, where the fuck are you?? You can't just leave like this!

Those gossips don't know how close their little jokes are to the truth.

Because she didn't just change. She wasn't reprogrammed.

She catches her reflection in one of the windows. Her face, her hair, her body, even the way she moves. She still looks the same as before. Healthy and confident.

Except it's not her. Not really.

This body isn't hers. Just like the clothes. Just like the man pestering her on the phone. None of this belongs to her.

It's from that woman with her same name and face that died several weeks ago.

Mr Wayne 🙄

What do you mean with "divorce"??

Gotham City High School

They're still talking.

It's been several weeks but they haven't stopped. In fact, she'll say it's gotten worse.

Before, it was just whispers behind her back and poorly concealed side-eyes. Now, they've taken to brazenly stare at her like she's some exotic animal, even approaching her at times to ask about her health, only to step back when she answers with a gentle smile, their eyes reflecting something between horror and fascination.

She found it amusing at first. Their faces looked so stupid at time she had to supress her laugh a lot.

But it's getting annoying now.

Whenever she goes, whenever she looks, they're there. Muttering, blinking at her, trying to strike clumsy converstations as if she's some long-lost friend who finally returned. All while keeping their distance and staring at her unnervingly.

Sometimes, she feels like a desecrated creature on display.

A pair of girls stand straighter when she passes by, following her with their eyes wide open. She catches the magazine one of them is holding, reading the bold letters in the cover title.

"Wayne heiress's lavish purchases turned into secret charity donations? Follow Vicky Vale's interviews to witnesses for more!"

Of course. The media doesn't help the insanity.

(Good to know Vale is a monumental pain in the ass in every life)

She sighs, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. It's flashy and clearly expensive. Something made to draw attention to the teenage girl who wears it...and subtitly brag about her money.

In another life, she wouldn't have ever come to school with this thing, not even her mum wouldn't allow it. But everything is different now, isn't it?

To be honest, she can't really hold it against these guys for acting the way they do. From their perspective, this must be some kind of fever dream.

She knows her current behaviour clashes greatly with what everyone else is used to from her.

"She's gone mad. There's no other explanation."

"I don't know. She seems to be the same, but nicer."

"Seriously? She's already made three teachers cry from arguing about the lessons with them. Poor Miss Terris was about to faint!"

Yeah, well, she's not going to stay quiet when people who are expected to educate and prepare them for the future teach their damn subjects wrong.

Plus, Miss Terris's lessons were poorly structured and boring anyway. It was for the best.

"Didn't she also disagreed with Mr Johns so badly that he took a whole day off in the middle of class?"

"Oh my god, yes. Luke told me about it. She questioned his thesis for the PhD and started scrutinizing each point like she was grading the damn thesis herself. Apparently, half the arguments didn't stand and it lacked solid references."

"I saw the poor man afterwards. He looked like he was rethinking his whole existence."

That guy should've thought better before writing his thesis on cybersecurity, the one field she’s studied, mastered, and dominated for years. Reading that thing hurt her eyes more than her correction hurt his feelings.

Next time, he won't ignore her questions and shame her in front of the whole class. A time off sounds perfect for self-reflection.

"How can someone like her know so much about cybersecurity anyway? Enough to criticise a professional about it?"

"It's weird. I mean, do you remember the last time she talked back to teachers?"

"No. She's never interrupted lessons, much less to call them out on it. And she's actually right most of the time! It makes no sense."

Because she was a spoiled little brat who lowered her head at the first sign of dissapointment from adults and ran off to her mother to fight the battles for her.

Now she's a spoiled brat with a backbone.

But she understands their confusion. They have every reason for it. Ever since her return, she's been a walking contradiction of everything they've seen and known from her. A mystery.

Really, she's only annoyed when they invade her space with their antics. If you're going to speculate and gossip, do it quietly when the person in question can't hear you. Otherwise you look stupid and attention-seeking.

Or even better: Keep your thoughts to yourselves and let people live, geez.

She wonders if this the kind of attention she would've liked, once upon a time. Maybe this is what that part of her craved so bad. Or maybe she was content either way. Bad attention is still attention and all of that.

From afar, she spots Stephanie staring at her, arms crossed and eyebrows pinched in suspicion. She's no doubt thinking the worst of her, expecting a tantrum at any moment or anything that exposes whatever "scheme" she must have in mind.

Anything to remind everyone how rotten the spoiled Wayne heiress is.

"Do you think...she lost her memories somehow and doesn't remember how to act?"

"Don't be stupid, Kevin. If she lost her memories, she wouldn't even know where she is. Nah, this girl is perfectly fine. Probably just faking for attention again."

She snorts quietly. She can't help it.

Their theories aren't so far fetched. Just lacking a little twist.

Because it's not that she lost her memories.

She actually gained more.

As they wonder about her true motives and the reasons behind her change, none of them can come close to the truth.

That the girl they know died. Literally. Several weeks ago, her heart stopped beating as she bled out in the ice.

And somehow, she came back....with her soul and conscience fused to someone else's.

Wayne Manor

She hasn't moved from the greenhouse in twenty minutes.

Or so she thinks. She hasn't checked the time once since she arrived.

Everyone else is out, doing whatever they usually do at this hour. School, work, send criminals to the ER. Only Alfred is still around the manor.

And herself.

She should be at school now too, but claimed sickness and refused to leave her room. Alfred was worried about her and tried to pry, but her mother and sister covered her. They understood.

How can they not?

It wasn't until she knew for sure it was only Alfred left that she gathered courage to step out, heading towards the one place that has always made her feel safe.

The manor's greenhouse.

A botanical dream come true that only rich people can afford, and her personal paradise. It's supposed to be one of the Wayne's prides, but no one is interested in caring for plants in this family anymore. Only she and Alfred.

Well, maybe Damian too, but he barely shows up since she frequents the place, sticking to his precious farm instead.

She prefers it this way. It allows her to have the place all for herself. It's her corner to hide in when the world becomes too much, the familiar scent of her beloved flowers soothing her like a lullaby just for her ears.

And right now, the world is a lot bigger and more devastating that it's ever been.

It's been days. Long, excruciating days of processing what happened, what it means. Assimilating how things are now. Trying to get through the new routine without crashing out, despite being all she wants to do since she woke up.

Mum jumped right into action as soon as she got a hold over their new situation, and her older sister handled it as she handles everything: Adapting and somehow finding a way to benefit from it.

She envies them for it. For being able to go on with their new lives almost normally while she's still stuck repeating the same scene in her head over and over. What she saw, what she felt.

That's why she needed to come here. Nature has never dissapointed her. She loves her plants and all the green that surrounds her in a explosion of beauty she's nurtured over the years. In times of sorrow, it's her passion what comforted her, along with her family.

When you learn about mother nature, you understand everything follows a pre-established cycle that pushes it all forward, regardless of whatever obstacles there might be. It's about balance within the chaos. No one can evade it.

It's reassuring, to know that no matter what happens, you can trust nature to always find a way to fulfill its rules.

It's a shame my favourite color in the world is the same as certain asshole's eyes. Such beauty wasted on that demon, she bitterly recalls.

She inhales, taking in the scent of wet grass and some freshly bloomed flowers. It's the middle of Spring, after all. The season of life and rebirth, when all that died in winter blooms back with the same beauty as before, as if they never withered in the first place.

Just like she did.

Like the three of them did.

How deliciously ironic that it happened in Spring out of all. Maybe this is really mother nature's work, once again finding a way to restore the balance.

Or maybe it's some wicked game from the universe to make our lives even harder, her inner voice supplies.

She has no idea.

All she knows is that she should be dead. In fact, she vividly remembers dying, exhaling her last breath. Right on cue, she feels a sharp sting from her inner wrists. She rubs the pained zone over the bandage she put on herself.

It's a reminder of the incredibly dark motive behind her new life. Her second chance, as Mum said it is.

The death she remembers happened a lifetime ago....but the pain on her wrists belongs to someone's else death.

This greenhouse has been her paradise in another life, and her grave in this one.

And still..

What a beautiful place to part from, she can't help but think.

All of it, without ever noticing the shadow watching her back, still and silent in a corner of her sacred place. Waiting. Guessing. Or just looking.

a/n: Prologue for my uncoming Yandere! Batfam reincarnation au...with possible other Yandere! DC characters and my other ocs included in it because why not lmao I've been reading too many reincarnation of villainesses webtoons recently, so, here we are now

@la-patrona-magdalena (la culpable de este au, the enabler)

Taglist (for those who showed interest in this au first, thank you for the comments!): @therealme13posts, @coldilikeit, @like-thechocolate

494 notes · View notes