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chernabogs · 10 months ago

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The Moon

Inc: Malleus, briefly Prefect Warnings: Some spoilers for the platinum jacket bday vignette. The laundry... LMAO WC: 2.5k Summary: 4 firsts that Malleus had under the watchful gaze of his oldest friend. First moments, first shop, first wash, first friend.

1—First Moments.

There is an envy of the moon that rots through his heart as a plague does the flesh.

The moon was his friend for the longest time in his youth; people would pass like a breeze—tutors, courtiers, servants, —leaving him stagnant, alone. But the moon would always return. She’d look down at where he leaned out the window, his small hands grasping the stones to steady himself, and her silver light would bath over him like the gentle touch of a mother—at least, how he imagined that touch to be. He’d whittle away hours admiring her mottled surface, and she’d whittle away hours gazing back, until she would eventually vanish with the night as the inky black sky faded to a twilight blue.

The envy existed because she always had the opportunity to come and go. Malleus was confined to a box for much of his life. Never once did he need to lift a finger, even if he desired to;

your highness is not meant to do that. Your highness is not meant to toil, and labour, and break the earth as we must. Hot sun should not kiss your fragile skin, sweat should not touch your brow. You must always remain above and away. Let us harvest for your needs; let us serve.

No one ever worked for the moon. She controlled the tides, made the Valley livable, and in return was worshipped for her trials among those denizens. One does not tell the moon you are not meant to do that. You are not meant to toil, and labour, and wrestle the tides for our needs. That was preposterous to think. So, should he not, too, work alongside the rest to make the Valley a better place? Would that not make the most sense?

For a while he resented it. He would turn to his side to face away from the window as night came, grasping his sheets with his hands and glaring into the darkness as though the moon would feel sad in his absence. That’s a silly thought. A floating rock in space cannot fathom the emotions burdened by fae and man alike. But in his childish mind—packed with tales of birds that talk and trees that walk—it was perfectly reasonable. Sometimes, it still is.

The resentment only lasted a few weeks before guilt began to eat him. That’s a silly thought, too. To feel guilty over ignoring a rock. Yet the next night he did find himself leaning on that window ledge once more, looking up at her with wide eyes as her silver light brushed across his cheeks. I’m sorry, he had whispered, knowing she could not hear but imagining she did.

The sun may not see his skin, but the moon certainly did, and she kissed it goodnight every evening before he went to rest. Lilia once told him his mother was a star, but Malleus wagered she’s far more than that. A star cannot contain the love and power he learned her to have.

No, looking up to the silver light above, he knew precisely what she had joined in those celestial skies.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

2—First Shop.

The opportunity for growth first came when he was invited to NRC. There is a first time for everything, and Malleus was quick to experience many in those early weeks of his initial year.

The first time shopping alone. Most experience this when they become adults, or they get a taste in their teenage years when their parent allows them to embark to a mall, or a place with companions. Malleus faced a trial by fire when he needed to purchase snacks for himself in his off time—he did have an appetite.

The cart broke, and that’s precisely when he knew this had been a dire mistake. Actually, he knew that when Lilia told him he was unable to go into town with Malleus. The discount store was the best place to get food for cheap and so Lilia had guided him here, and now the wheel was bent in a strange way and when he pushed it, it squeaked, or it didn’t move at all, and god this was awful, this was not how he planned—

Until an employee came. A single glance and a kick to the wheel fixed all his errors and so the crown prince of Briar Valley, with a charming flush of embarrassment to his cheeks, shoved the cart through the automatic doors after a mumbled word of gratitude. He’d get better at thanking people later. Gifts, for example, would be granted quite freely.

The second trial of shopping came in acquiring the items. Malleus was intelligent. Incredibly so, in fact. Many of his tutors had not been able to keep up with his leaps and strides in the academic field (if one ignores how he threw tantrums and caused a majority to quit in the first place). However, ill-equipped was he for the trials of price vs quality comparison, and so he found himself in a stand still at many points with two boxes in his hand, trying to rationalize which one had the better ingredients and was it really worth the additional 5 madol?

The experience took a grand total of two hours. Lilia called once—only to make sure Malleus did not become lost between the store and the school. A quick call became a long ordeal when Malleus barraged the man with questions regarding if it’s worth investing in carbonated water or not. He settled for whatever was in the taps at NRC, and he paid cash for it all. Because Lilia did, at least, inform him that paying with jewels was probably not an acceptable currency in the discount grocery outlet.

At the end of it all, when he was digging through the box of granola bars on his desk at a late hour, and the moons silver light was greeting him for the first time in an entirely new land, a sense of confidence in his ability to handle any trial ahead caused a smirk to curl on Malleus’ lips.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

3— First Wash.

That is until he met the machine.

He was a night owl. What he didn’t realize was that most teenage boys are night owls as well. He had not the faintest idea where the laundry room even was and deemed that 2 am in the kitchen was the best time to compensate for this. So enraptured in his scrubbing was he that he failed to hear the student until he heard an awkwardly spoken, “Um?” over his shoulder.

What a sight he must have been. Wide, green eyes glowing in the dark as he was hunched over the sink, a sock in one hand and a brush in the other. Perhaps his hair was disarrayed from the furious scrubbing to remove any dirt, perhaps his fangs were shown in his frustration of soap suds getting everywhere. Either way, the poor boy who had wandered into the kitchen for a midnight snack and encountered this was quite shocked. Malleus had straightened up, and a lingering silence had ensued until the boy had spoken once more in a frail, cracking voice.

“Housewarden? Why are you washing your clothes in the kitchen sink?”

Why, indeed? Malleus had the choice to take the prideful route and say that he wanted to, and so he did. Spare himself the embarrassment. Or he could own up to reality and admit a slight bit of vulnerability to the student. He wanted to form camaraderie and friendship—so perhaps vulnerability was the right way to go.

“I could not find the laundry room.” He had replied, a bit blunt in his words. The student stared at him for a moment longer before slowly blinking as the prince’s words registered to him. His mouth opened slightly, and he half turned to look out the kitchen door.

“Oh, I just use magic.” The student had then pointed to the stairs where the dorms were. “But you can probably just have someone take your load next time.”

Malleus knew his expression soured at the comment because the student’s face had dropped to worry. Let us harvest for your needs; let us serve.; this echoed in his mind as his hand had tightened around the sock. “No, I can do it myself.”

The words were cold to the point of cutting. Silence, once more, before the student had cleared his throat again. “... I am overdue for a load myself. Do you want me to show you the room?”

A simple question had been enough to ease any tension. Malleus’ expression had softened, and within twenty minutes, two boys were embarking in the dark with soapy laundry and baskets to scour the laundry room on their expansive campus. Malleus had looked to the moon as they passed and imagined her laughing at his plight.

Many tales regale of brave knights who encounter ferocious beasts in their endeavours, with voices that sound of a thousand cries and mouths that spew a volley of ash upon their polished armor. The knights inevitably slay the beast and parade its head proudly for all the adoring villagers to see.

Malleus’ beast had a body of stainless steel, and a mouth that chewed and swished clothing around with great fury. The first time he saw it, he had set his basket down and looked at the boy with an expression of; are you kidding me? Technology and the prince were not friends. Two phones burned within the first 48 hours of getting them had demonstrated that so far. But the boy exhibited a patience unseen as he had loaded his wash and walked the prince through the process of putting the laundry pod in, hitting the timer, and then hitting ‘start.’

The rumble of the wash had signified success. When Malleus repeated the steps with his own load and a second rumble had filled the wide, otherwise empty room, he felt quite akin to those knights slaying the beast.

The two of them had sat in the benches of that laundry room together until the load was done and the boy could show him the dryer. They had never really spoken again after that encounter, but the memory of the boy's compassion (a rarity for NRC students) in aiding the prince was not lost on him. When the boy was suddenly hit with a streak of uncanny luck, and he had asked himself why, perhaps he had a lingering idea of why this was—but he would say nothing, nor would the prince.

Only the moon knew the answer to that question.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

4—First Friend.

They had seemed utterly, completely, unequivocally normal when he first met them. Oh, he had heard about them—after all, one doesn’t just burst out of a coffin without the entire school knowing within the hour—but he had not met them, and when he finally did, he found himself to be quite underwhelmed. They were shorter than him, but just as quiet, and he had yet to know that those lingering awkward moments outside of Ramshackle would uproot his life in the most wondrous of ways.

The moon knew. But she couldn’t say anything; she just kept smiling down with her silvery grin from the skies above.

He hadn’t meant to return to them, but in time he did, until eventually the student from Ramshackle ingrained themself in his routine in a way that baffled him completely. Sometimes he would look down at them on their walks and wonder to himself now, where did you appear from?, as though the night would whisper the answer in his ear and he’d go, ah yes, that makes perfect sense.

The night is where they convalesce the most. In the beginning the student did not sleep often and Malleus, still ever the night owl, took advantage of this. He would abscond with them in the night (oh, he could imagine his Senate wailing how scandalous! in their flickering forms) and they would walk a familiar loop around campus until returning to the steps of Ramshackle once more.

Sometimes they talked the entire way. Other times they would simply move in silence, an unspoken understanding between them of two people in a routine they were both quite comfortable with. When an overblot had happened, the student would tell Malleus about the event, and he would nod in grave understanding—not knowing what they felt, since he never experienced it himself, but empathizing with them all the same.

It would also allow him to make a mental note to reach out to the affected party later. Just to check in.

Winter break had been a time of upset for him because it had disrupted the routine he was used to. Back in the box, back in his room, with servants attending every need. The freedom he had become accustomed to being robbed from him made him feel like a mad dog in a cage and the absence of those now familiar night walks had him glaring at the sky. The moon was still there—so one member of their party was present—but the student was back at NRC, and it created a sort of them shaped void in his chest that made him restless.

They didn’t reply to his holiday card. Maybe he had overstepped, or maybe they were like him and lost track of time on occasion. He liked to imagine it was the latter. He liked to try and find more things similar between them both beyond a love for the night and the moon.

When he had returned and they had given him the VDC tickets, another sense of joy had sparked in his chest as he had held those tickets tight. A warmth flooding throughout his body, something he hadn’t quite felt before beyond when he looked at his family, and he wondered in that moment if this is what it felt like to be a part of something. He had always imagined having those experiences—being invited to parties, creating mischief in the night, sharing secrets and laughter under the stars. The student was granting these to him, despite both parties not knowing so yet.

The moon knew, though. She kept smiling down at them as they would whisper on their walks, hands close enough to brush but not touching each other because that felt too far just yet. She would observe the way Malleus would watch the student until they re-entered Ramshackle to ensure that they made it inside safe, and the faint smile on his lips as he walked away.

She knew, even when they did not.

For now, however, Malleus was comfortable calling the student friend. They were someone who did not walk before him in guidance, or behind him in subservience. They walked comfortably by his side as an equal, and for that, they held more significance than he cared to admit.

NRC had brought many firsts to Malleus’ life, and as each moment passed, he felt that envy of the moon fade away. For in the end, to be envious of his oldest friend was a pointless thing.

#malleus draconia #twst #twst fanfiction #malleus x reader #somewhat... more platonic but w those lil hinty hints yk #hehe his bday vignette rotating in my brain <3 this man #also wow look MORE dia... ;;

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faeryarchives · 10 months ago

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I have no idea if your requests are open or not so I apologize if they're closed 😭🫶

But could I request the octatrio with a fischl reader (female if possible ♡)

I love the octatrio sm rn and I rarely see any works with them so I just had to request

hi hi anon of course! do you think they would accidentally create an elemental reaction whenever floyd pokes oz 🧐

octavinelle with a fischl-like female reader!

a mysterious girl called "prinzessin der verurteilung" travels with oz, a night raven. through her unique abilities, eccentric character, and hard work, she has become a rising star among the guild's investigators, earning all the recognition. and yet she still fares mostly on her own

༉‧₊˚. azul ashengrotto

you were an unpredictable and quite eccentric person! its true that you have a quite different way of talking from others but it made you stand out!

"you dare to call my familiar and grim as monsters?! you must prepare your self, because it is time for retribution!"

"where did you get that bow?!"

"mein fraülein, if i dare to say so - that isn't one of your lines. but thank you for defending me."

your achievements in the school mainly were praiseworthy, azul knew for a fact that you were a strong one that he didn't want to come across with

until you got roped into the octavinelle issue and instead of looking at him with disdain - you were even willing to help him out?! maybe those rumors about you were true at all

as being someone who will willingly go out their way to help others in your own way, even if you come out harsh

what bothered azul most was how you were quick to intervene his plans as well as helping him with his problems

"why are we walking around school? where is oz?" "my dear familiar is taking his good rest. as for the reason of walking around - well i heard from a little bird that you are having a hard time on something. would you like to accept her majesty's help?"

surely and slowly, he was beginning to see right through you, even without oz's interpretation and to be honest? you weren't so difficult to understand at all

the most likely to spoil you rottens by letting you do as you please whenever you went to go visit their dorm

"didn't you mention before that you like reading? you can borrow some of my books here because it just so happens that i am an avid reader myself!" "...! i-i never thought that you were keeping that in mind, thank you azul."

as time goes by, the bad rumors surrounding you gradually dissipative → students will think twice of talking shit about you because this comes as a package deal for being friends with the octavinelle dorm leader.

༉‧₊˚. jade leech

"one is aware that fate has brought me into this path. hm-hm, may the glory of the prinzessin bring light to this wicked world." "oh my, how bold of you to address our world as such!"

true, jade couldn't really understand how you were able to say such things in front of the whole school and shrug it off

he is the type of friend that would take his time to sit down and listen for you for hours and even ask some questions about your previous adventures

"you met your evil twin?" "it was more like a shadow version of me, and oz here decided it was fun to leave me for her." "*gasp* i take full offense to that!" "oh my god, the prinzessin's most beloved familiar is a traitor."

jade knew for a fact that you were entirely different from the octatrio so he tries to steer you away from trouble as much as possible but with your friends and sometimes even floyd, maybe sometimes are not just possible

don't tell the other two but if you would pick someone trust the most to see you behind your act - it would be jade

knowing how observant he is, you wouldn't be surprised if he had seen through you already but you trust him enough and that's all you need

"hmm, this is troubling..."

"what seems to be the problem?"

"it looks like one of the students broke the contract and went hiding among his peers."

"that sounds like a problem, but no worries we can assist you."

color him surprise after seeing your investigation skills 😮 the task that should've took a day to complete got immediately solved less than half a day

and your fighting skills are extraordinary! from that day on, you would get extra allowance every time the octatrio need your help

while you seem capable of yourself, jade took it as his and floyd's responsibility to look after you because you were still kinda an airhead

"(name)..."

"i forgot the stove was still on..."

as you hail into their world as an outsider, he will do his best to provide you the best experience until you bring the glory of the prinzessin among them - after all, that is what friends for

༉‧₊˚. floyd leech

you are such an interesting fishie! or are you a bird? did you just turn into a bird? can you teach him that too?

it was like he finally met someone on the sam wavelength because floyd surprisingly went along with your act - taking the role as your confidant

"ne, ne (name) - can oz talk to other birds?"

"my dear ozzie?"

"'cuz if he can talk in human language can he understand animal language or he is just built different?"

if you think that sometimes you can't understand yourself, you couldn't understand floyd even more!

each of his random question just made you wonder your whole existence because this man will text you at 2 am asking "what would you call a male ladybug?"

"If peanut butter wasn’t called peanut butter, what would it be called?" "for the love of everything, floyd it is 2 am..." "yeah? so what would it be called though?"

being with floyd is like being hit with an uno reverse card and honestly - you were having fun!

it was like you were relieving your childhood with the eel and with his random outburst it motivates you to be more open about yourself

from time to time it was funny to see him trying to chase after oz, trying to ask your familiar over and over again if he could do the same thing

"i am afraid it would not be possible." "but we haven't even tried it out yet?" "why are you wrapping your hands around m- no, no, no we are not going into the water!"

news flash, they did. 😭

anyways! he adores you and oz and never fails to give you your daily hugs

as said before - floyd sometimes gets you in trouble by breaking rules and getting involve in the punishment but hey! some times its okay to let loose but not just too much.

still, you friendship may be a little unexpected to others and floyd knows that you are similar yet also different from each other but he will try to make your stay more bearable than letting you suffer all alone

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hunnieknight · 2 years ago

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EVERY FANDOM IS MIXED IN

Have fun binge reading

> `~•. ♡ Hunnie Knight ♡ .•~` <

Highschool AU

Yanderes, Obsession

Subtle Marking (Various)

Volleyball Player (Childe x Fem Reader)

Forgot your umbrella (Various)

Parental

Parents, domestic

Copy Paste(Navia x Gn!Reader)

Baby horns (Ganyu)

Little Pilot (Yukong)

Baby bunnies (Furina/NSFW hidden undercut)

Mama Cats (Serval)

Mom!!(Yae,Sara,Kokomi)

First fight!(Some Inazuman women)

Great Parents (Mondst various)

Chubby Reader

You don't want to sit on their lap (various) + Tighnari

Kinks?(Lisa)

Chubby Bunny (Kafka/Acheron)

Chubby Bunny 2 (Ganyu)

Jacket On!(Some geo charas)

Soulmate AU

Your have their constellation star, Yandere, chapter stand by itself(not continuous)

Series 1 (Aether, Bennett, Xiao)

Hybird Reader

Feral, animalistic, may contain blood or suggestive stuff, may overlap with other AU

Seelie Reader by @//genshinarchives

Sheep Reader (Horn Gang/Yanfei, Itto, Ganyu)

Kitsune Reader (Youkai Trio + Yelan, Lumine)

Little Beast! (Himeko + Kafka)

Melusine Reader (Neuvilette,Platonic)

Delivery Kitty (Lisa & Arlecchino)

Captain's joke (Crux Duo)

Food thief!(Hsr various)

Little mouse (Xilonen w @/sea-lanterns)

Curious Kitty? (Mavuika)

Wake up! (JY + non hybird reader,platonic)

Next Door Dog (Capitano)

Grandchild AU

You are Pulcinella's grandchild, Harbingers x reader

Series I

Series II

Series III

Groups

Red Claymores (Diluc, Beidou, Dehya, Xinyan)|Geo Exclusive (Geo only) | Horn Gang (Itto, Yanfei, Ganyu) | Youkai Trio (Itto, Sara, Yae)

Red Claymores walked in on you

You Resonate with Geo (Mono Geo team)

Sheep Reader (Horn Gang)

Kitsune Reader (Youkai Trio + Yelan, Lumine)

Playing Among Us (Geo Exclusive)

The Avian Gangs (Bird Constellation exclusive)

Brain cells (Anemo boys)

WoodChuck! (Mono Geo)

Safety! (Debut Harbingers)

Treat Only! (Express Trio)

Sneak out!(Debut Harbingers)

Kitty Cat! (Little Cat hsr Merch)

Sketch Ideas/Concept

Sketches

Sketch Ideas (4ggravated / Alchemist Trio)

Sketch Ideas (Ragbros / Zhongli)

Sketch Ideas (Halovian Siblings)

Sketch Ideas (Navia/Beidou)

Others

May contain Yanderes and suggestive content

Afraid to break their gift (Various)

The Dawn's Hospitality (Diluc)

Help with zipper (Various)

How do they call you(Various)

SAGAU answer by @//hiraya-rawr

Suggestive (Childe)

Hickey (Genshin women)

Take Down by @//ddarker-dreams

Empress AU by @//sea-lanterns

You and your plushie (Various)

I hate Mona (answer)

I am him!(Venti and Zhongli)

Durian!(Various)

Minecraft Server (Various)

Idiom (Stelle)

Lick lick Kiss (Stelle)

Perfume (Navia)

Not staring (Sara)

Plushie!(Navia)

First Aid!(Natasha)

Sneak In! (March/Stelle)

Asmr artist (Yanfei)

Therapy chair (Chameleon)

Just ask (Dr. Ratio)

Fish!(Shenhe)

Wrong Treats (Mavuika)

Light Lurker (Capitano,Signora,JY, Blackswan)

Get pregnant!(Kafka)

Art Log

NOT X READER

Art Log 1

Zhongli babysit Ganyu

Fox Banner

Art Log 2

Sleepy General (Jing Yuan)

Too much milk (Jing Yuan)

Tubbs (Jing Yuan)

Doggg(NinetyNine)

FAQ

Burung (Sampo/ inbox Answer)

Penacony Dogs (Gallagher/Mr Reca)

Company (Jingyuan/Dan Heng)

Duckies (YQ,JY,JL)

#Hunniemasterlist #Hunnielist #imaginedraw

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6saints · 3 months ago

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Delicate

Yandere! Merman x Reader

18+ - gore and smut

Chapter two

—

It is in human nature to be deleterious. To be a cancerous leech plundering on the natural resources Earth had to offer. Human nature entails dominance over any being deemed inferior, to find amusement and comfort in the technology the big bad business men advertise. They are wolves selling a fallacy of hope to the selfish humans who pray for an advanced civilization; all while stuffing their pockets with gold and giving blessings to the sick.

That homeless man may have been right about the end of the world, or those hippies chaining themselves to trees or even those laughable metal straw ads everyone would skip. Had anybody listened to the fanatical people of the early 70's, perhaps the state of the earth would never have gotten so dilapidated. Magazines and newspapers were thrown out for billboards, projectors and little technological pockets of information. The news always the same, yet always afflictive to the weak little hearts of the people. Every day was a new animal, new country, new city being destroyed by one man made thing or the other.

That was how he was raised. To despise humans and their technology, the same filth congesting his oceans and killing any and all marine life.

His first encounter with humans had been just a decade ago. Fishing vessels weren't common near Silnich shores therefore, his entire childhood had gone relatively unoccupied. Socialization was rare, even amongst his own species, so when a Trawler spurred against empty waters the half-fish was naturally whelmed with vague interest.

It was a melancholy night; ashen clouds covering the darkness. The waters were desolate, a lonely ambience surrounding the waves and empty sky. Zero lights, he had thought to himself, his diaphanous tail swishing beneath himself. Occasionally, if he was lucky, yellow, red, purple and even blue dots would scatter behind clouds and a pale moon would situate itself at their side.

He recalled an old friend, a merman and traveller, had once mentioned calling them stars. That humans could see them up close, that they could dance and fly among them; a laughable notion considering only birds could do such a thing. Humans were widely regarded as stupid and rather begrimed; a soiled species responsible for the odd materials destroying underwater ecosystems. He never understood his friend's peculiar way of regarding them, almost as if with an admiration of sorts.

"Alright boys, what we catchin' today?" A loud, booming voice sounded atop the boat.

Two other voices had joined in, southern and thick. "How bout a shark?"

"Shut up, Randall," laughed one of the men, "Let's catch some fish fore' the boss rings our neck."

A thunderous whirring came from a machine attached to the boat, yellow and rusted with a net attached to the bottom. It sunk beneath the inky waters, the boy following after with pure curiosity. He noticed a school of fish swimming closer, their delicious forms becoming entrapped within the roped net and struggling to swim out. Their meager bodies flattened against each other, fins frantically fluttering back and forth in a futile attempt at escape.

Did humans also eat fish? He wondered.

He hadn't gotten a look at what the men's physical appearances were. How big are they that they need so much fish?

He swam closer, using his taloned fingers to scratch at a piece of the net, allowing for one of the fish to plop out into his webbed hand. Easy hunt, he thought to himself, swallowing the fish whole before reaching in to grab another.

This time, however, the whirring sound seemed to grow louder and the net began oscillating at a rapid rate. Before he could push himself away from the machine the net clasped around his tail and arm, forcing him into place with the rest of the fish surrounding him. He struggled, contorting his body forward and backward venturing to free himself.

SMACK!

All his sensitive skin could feel was a cold, damp metal beneath his limbs, fish jumping to and fro around him as the light from the boat blurred his vision. The slits in his eyes became thinner, almost nonexistent, when one of the men flashed something strikingly bright into his face. Two of the three voices now had a face and body, each distinct and rather ugly. The larger, burley man had no hair atop his head yet his arms were covered, a complete contrast to the smoothness of a mermaid's upper body. The one flashing an instrument in his face was rather lanky and petite, a beard cleanly growing across his chin and ending just above his collarbones. He couldn't find the third one, he didn't know if he even wanted to.

The bulky man had thin lips curled into an odd smile, like two sea worms bent in an odd angle, a tooth sticking out the side of his lip curiously. "What the hell am I looking at?" His voice was painful up close, the boy's finned ears twitching as they continued speaking.

"Certainly not a shark," the other whispered, a shocked expression painting his unkept features.

"Say, you a fuckin' mermaid?" He asked. The man took a thin metal rod and poked his tail.

"Mermaids are females, boss."

"Merboy?" He corrected himself sarcastically.

The fish-boy didn't speak, tightlipped and glaring at the men hovering above him. Occasionally, a frantic fish would slap him on his face.

"Well fuck me I guess." He rolled his eyes. "What should we do with it?"

"I don't know, boss, maybe we-"

A voice from behind the boy cut the lanky man off, "We make some money off of him."

He jerked his head back, staring wide-eyed at the new voice that had appeared. A light flashed, the man carrying a square box with a whitened piece of glass just over his eye. The third man, round and clean, looked like an office worker dressed up as a fisherman. "What?"

"You ain't hear me the first time?" He walked up to the boy, hands pulling at his tail just to check for any hint of falsehood. He growled at him, exposing two rows of sharpened teeth, the canines especially long. "Woah!" He stumbled back before recomposing himself. "How much money you think people would pay to see a mermaid?"

"It's a boy."

"Same thing." He shrugged.

"Probably a lot," the bigger man muttered, pondering for a moment. "What you say bout' bringin' him with us?"

"Where we gonna put him?"

"I can free up space in one of the barrels back at the yard. Some water should keep it alive." The lanky man walked closer to the boy, bending forward with a confidence only an idiot could sport. "You got lungs, right kid?"

These are the things that can fly like birds? He bitterly laughed to himself, as if!

The fish-boy hoisted himself up, lunging at the man and just barely grazing his left shoulder. His tail caught on the net, forcing his body back into the metal floor brutally.

"Shit!" The man whimpered, clutching into his shoulder feverishly. "The kid's got a bite to him."

"Grab the extra netting from the back." Ordered the hairy man immediately, that odd smile of his disappearing into a frown.

The men began tying him up, repulsed expressions covering their faces as they got a closer look at the struggling being. He was snarling, animalistic eyes wanting nothing more than to kill them for touching him with their filthy human hands. These men are exactly as the stories portrayed them! Absolutely abhorrent and disgusting!

Unfortunately for him, these men were massive, towering at 6 feet.

Mermen on the other hand didn't reach full maturity until age 20 and the majority of their size would come from the length and girth of their tail, not their upper bodies. Though, he imagined he would look significantly better than these rotten humans once he did reach adulthood.

He glanced at the fish and then at the hairy man. He was the one that would put up the most fight, he figured. The lanky one was weak and rather easy to overpower and the round one was a coward. If he could get rid of the one threat he would be free to escape.

"Please don't hurt me," he blurted, skin paling further and his body forcing a shiver.

"The little shit speaks!" The lanky man laughed.

"Aye kid, we're not gonna hurt you, sailor's promise." His target stepped forward.

Just a little more, he thought.

"I'm sorry for scratching you," he looked up at the men, big doe eyes pricking with non existent tears.

His new bald headed prey walked forward again, kneeling down and holding out a fish. He wondered if he was overselling the helpless child trope a bit too much, recalling how orcas would do something similar in the wild.

Whatever the case was, the man was within reach. He extended his webbed fingers, slow and innocent-like, but instead of grabbing the puffed fish he imbedded his talons into the man's eyes, pulling him on top before quickly searching his pockets for anything that would free him.

The men behind were bellowing out curses and shouts, petrified of the scene in front of them. As he suspected, the larger man ran back to the edge of the vessel, whitened knuckles grasping onto the metal in a horrified state. His fingers prodded and poked until something sleek and flat made contact with his palm. He fumbled with the edges of a strangely ornate and intricate design, swirls of flowers and odd vinery leading to a sharpened edge.

Just in time too, considering his friend, though weak, had garnered the courage to defend his crew imperishably.

He pushed the man's body forward, tripping the other while he made his escape over the edge of the boat, both screaming incoherently about one scary thing or the other. The boy allowed his no longer confined body to sink to the bottom of the ocean. He could still view the top clearly and hear the men's belting, unlike the darkness and comforting silence the ocean usually offered him. Their voices began to wane, signaling their exit. He was exhausted, hurt, and dejected.

And this interaction only proved to him the cruelty that human beings harbored within themselves.

Since that day, humans never made an appearance on Silnich waters again. Perhaps he had instilled a fear into them, a sense of self preservation that he knew only a selfish human could harbor. The humans must have warned the others, fed them stories about the attack of a crazed sea monster, who was really just a scared boy.

He was 24 now, a grown merman protective of the colony he had single-handedly protected. The fish were his to eat, the sharks and dolphins were his to play with, and the sky was entirely his to look at.

Until it wasn’t.

“Slow down you crazy child..”

The melodic harmonies began playing a soft tune.

“Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while...”

It was a male singing, perhaps a siren? Though he had never met a male siren before.

“It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two...”

The closer he swam to the shore, the more he could pick up on other voices.

“When will you realize…”

And there they were, long limbs swaying cautiously against each other, dull teeth hidden behind soft smiles and innocent laughter. Their feet were hidden within the ocean despite the light splashing.

And there she was, (h/l) (h/c) hair bouncing idly and her fingers interlacing with another of her species. She was rather beautiful, he thought for only a moment.

“Vienna waits for you...”

More humans came running into the water, two males and a female. And the merman's hazy thoughts were replaced with something more sinister.

Intruders, he told himself, in my waters.

#ao3 #fanfic #reader insert #wattpad #writing #merman #siren #merman x reader #yandere merman x reader #yandere siren #yandere #yandere x reader #Yandere smut #smut #horror #romance #merman smut

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hollow-head · 1 year ago

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What are your favourite fanfics, please?

I tried to limit myself. I grabbed these from my bookmarks so I’m sure there’s some I left out. General gallimaufry of lengths, ratings, and balance of angst and humor.

The Sandford Flower Show by Mussimm this one really deserves a read after season 2. they solve a mystery about another demon and angel’s relationship. declarations of love end poorly. the writing is soo good

Pray for Us, Icarus by Atalan i’ll never get over this one. surely everyone’s read this!

Lead me to the banquet hall by obstinatrix & wishwellingtons crowley’s thing about food In Pleasure's Clothes by obstinatrix & wishwellingtons aziraphale is jealous absolutely amazing narrative voice in these, hilarious fics.

dearly departed by attheborder crowley gets discorped. yasti the hentai demon may still be the best oc it's a new craze by attheborder they start a podcast

Apples Are Not the Only Fruit by indieninja92 crowley gives aziraphale a gift among many others from this author

such surpassing brightness by bibliocratic the whole history of western art

Your Mirror by equestrianstatue their relationship/arrangement over time

A Visit to the Pet Shop by TheOldAquarian (short) as the title says In Mixed Company, or the Corporate Retreat of Heaven and Hellby TheOldAquarian (long) they go to florida for business. i’m from florida. i like imagining them drinking fruity cocktails.

The Gift by rfsmiley (short) a proposal All Seasons by rfsmiley (long) Crowley’s experience during the creation of the Church of England

To Space and the Stars by maniacalmole how to get to alpha centauri Lol B) by maniacalmole they text each other

Happy by Caricari crowley’s bucket list.

Glory by entanglednow (short) trueform anonymous hookups Flowers from Hell by entanglednow (long) crowley sorta clones himself into a really interesting non human oc ——too many entanglednow fics i love

Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile angel mating rituals

Luminosity by bethagain there was only one bed, G rated

another grain of indigent salt for the sea by prolix they go to arizona. i’ve been to arizona. i like imagining them in arizona.

The Longest Night by charlottemadison bodyswap walking lessons

With a thousand sweet hisses, I'll cover you by yolkinthejump cozy

worked up by paintedvanilla movie script fever dream

#fanfiction #if the link doesn't work it's my fault so just look it up on ao3 #asks #bro ive read a lot of fanfic for a lot of fandoms over the years #i should stop #i read real books occasionally i swear

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marimoth1012 · 7 months ago

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Ok here's a little maybird poll since we all keep missing the more active VS.every other fandom polls and for funnsies

I'll put a part two of this poll since there's a few other characters I think I should add

Also @may-birdy,do you think you could post this poll on your blog to reach more of the may bird fans please?also this is the first time directly addressing you so sorry for the short notice but hello!

#may bird and the ever after #may bird trilogy #may bird #may bird among the stars #may bird warrior princess #may ellen bird #pumpkin #beatrice #Fabbio #lucius #somber kitty #lady of the north farm #evil bo clevil #all may bird characters #polls #tumbler polls

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ssha-sssh · 3 months ago

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"Creation" Prologue

A/N: It didn't take forever, I did it ❤️

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of death, swear words

🎧 Jurii Kirnev — Prelude

Among the perennial trees with their branches reaching up to the sky, you don’t see or hear anything. There is only darkness and silence around. Clouds floating across a foggy sky. Twinkling round moon. Stars hiding behind leaves. Animal screams. The flapping of bird wings. An echo floating above the forest.

And bubbling fear squeezing your ribs.

If only they didn't find you.

It’s impossible to catch your breath or shake off anxiety. No matter how you try to calm the convulsive sighs, they endlessly escape from your chest, precariously covered by a torn shirt.

Dirty in someone else's and your own blood, you hide among the bushes, tearing the remnants of your clothes with every careless movement. You're stuck, but you're not trying to get out. After all, here you, crouched to the ground and holding your ragged breath, are not so easy to notice. Your trousers and tank top, torn by the tenacious claws of the branches, barely cover your skin stained with bruises and abrasions. Here and there, wet leaves and clods of dirt stuck to your trembling knees.

There's a knife hole in your right shoulder. There are flashes of torches before your eyes, and you don’t know where to go as the day approaches — but everything seems unimportant. After all, as soon as the moon rolls down over the hills, as soon as the first morning cloud falls along the coal sky, and there is just a little time left until dawn, you will have hope...

You're thirsty. So much so that from the temptation to stick your head out and taste the muddy water from a small puddle, you pull yourself back only when you feel someone else’s presence.

There is a noise behind your back.

The sound of cutting air reaching your ears. You don't know and don't want to know what it could be. You are just sinking into the still damp earth, after the rain that passed in the evening, under which you were thoroughly wet.

Your screams remained far beyond the forest, but it seems to you that you did not run away. And you weren't saved.

Without making a sound, you crawl deep into the thorny bushes. You cut your cheeks and neck just to remain unnoticed. With your shirt sleeve you cling to a crooked branch sticking out of the ground. Trying to escape, you tear both your shirt and the skin on your hands into rags. If they hear even one sob, they will not spare you. They were furious when you compared them to animals — but they were hardly human.

People are hardly capable of what they are thinking of doing to you. People are hardly capable of what they do to everyone who fails to escape. The wound in the shoulder stings. All you need now is to survive this night here, among the leaves whipping your face. And under no circumstances cry from pain...

You don't breathe, merging with the forest. But the noise overtakes you in your flimsy shelter.

You hope that they will not see you and will pass by — after all, they do not know this place and may get lost in the dark. You desperately praying for this. But you almost burst into tears when you immediately remember all the stories that you once heard or overheard.

What if you were found by those who know this place like the back of their hand? Those who can wander here by touch, relying on animal instincts?.. The sound that comes rips screams from your mouth.

The crack of branches breaking above your head.

It was impossible to hide here... This is truly, as they said day after day, the territory of the apes clan. Surely they prowl, around every night, killing everyone who ever wanders here.

Screaming when the sharp blade almost cuts off a strand of hair stuck to your face, you crawl on all fours, feeling your way. You grab onto the grass and tree trunks to escape pursuit, but from another blow from the blade, you fall into a ravine strewn with cobblestones.

Lying on your back, punctured by stones, you see your tormentors.

Unable to move, you bleed and cry. It would be better if it were the apes from all these stories.

Cause, they'd would kill you quickly.

"Good job. She doesn’t need legs anyway, but she won’t be fussy anymore"

"But it would be better to knock out this little bitch teeth, just to be sure"

Voices that make you choke with blood filling your mouth. Vile, deafening laughter.

They found you.

You're scared. Despair covers your barely beating heart, and the salt of flowing tears stings the scratches on your cheeks.

Blood is gushing from a fresh wound on your thigh, and you try to touch the cut flesh — but your hands are limp, like a rag doll.

When they descend into the ravine, grab you and pull you up by your elbows and ankles, almost tearing you to shreds — you squint and scream from the unbearable pain piercing your entire body. You are trying to free yourself, to slip out of the hands that cripple you. Your wrists crack and break just like cut branches. There is no escape from this trap, from these snares. You want to die here.

You want to avoid giving them disgusting joy.

Because you know what they want to do to you.

You saw and heard what they were doing in the now foreign settlement with all the girls. You grew up and realized that they had all come to terms with it. They all accepted their fate without even trying to change anything.

People, generation after generation, living, begetting other people and dying without any meaning.

Locked iron doors. Men's blows. Women's screams. The cries of newborns, children deprived of love and care. A dungeon with blackened walls and no chance of seeing at least one more sunrise... That's all that will happen if their hands grab you now.

But it cost you too much to escape for your story to end like this.

Wasting your last strength, you kick one in the groin with your health leg. He yells, cursing you and grabbing the bruised body scarp with both hands.

Dust gets under your nails and falls on your face when you almost get out of the ravine and see the sky again.

But the other one immediately throws you back onto the cobblestones, hangs on top and strangles you. With all your anger, you hit him with a sharp stone clutched in your hand, turning his grinning face into mush. You spit in his face and hiss, but his dirty, slippery hands only tighten on your neck. You are suffocate, beads of cold sweat glistening on your forehead. Scatterings of stars in the waking sky blur in your eyes.

And you think that all this, all the years of miserable life filled with beatings, insults and abuse, is finally over.

Trying to exhale every nightmare moment, you come to terms with your death. With probably your only freedom.

You imagine where you will go when you fall asleep forever...

Suddenly, the grip on your throat weakens in an instant. The sounds of brutal fighting and incoherent swearing. Wheeze, full of pain. Your lungs take in air again and you cough. Two dull thuds. Silence reigned. It’s so quiet that you can hear the blood spreading. Not yours. Raising your head and looking around, all you see is the men who tormented you lying among the dirt, earth and stones. Motionless, breathless. A trickle of blood and a quiet laugh flows from your dry lips... You notice a shadow in the grass surrounding the ravine.

Holding your throat with a weak hand, you peer into the rustle of steps and movements.

This is not a human.

But you don't care anymore.

The shadow mounts the horse. You climb up. You shiver from the cold night air, piercing to the bones and eating into your body, riddled with cuts. You stand on your feet, unsteadily. You look at the shadow, taking a step back. Small pebbles search your bare feet. You listen to the breathing of the shadow, hoarse and echoing. You feel a shadow looking at you. You back away.

Limping hopelessly, you try to run away.

Pulling on the reins, the shadow gallops on horseback behind you —and in the pitch darkness you see the green of the ape’s eyes.

With tormented palms, clutching the moss on the trees and their sharp paws, you run, not making out the road. You stumble, spitting saliva and blood, but don’t stop.

You can't hide from the ape. More are trotting in the distance. The clatter of hooves sounds ever closer as you scurry helplessly along the path.

When the sun rises, illuminating the visible plain with its rays, the earth disappears from under your feet and you fall. On your back, again. Curly shoots entangle your palms, making their way to your forearms - and it suddenly seems to you that your skin is not dirty and cut, but smooth and untouched.

But the pain returns, intensifies.

Your body seems like a sieve smeared in blood. Your heart is pounding as if it’s about to fall out at your feet. You don’t have the strength to run away, you don’t have the strength to breathe... The ape — must be a chimpanzee, if you correctly understood at least some of the stories about these animals, — dismounts, standing up to his full height, approaches you with wide steps and bends over your scratched face, knitting his eyebrows.

Right now you can't see the thoughts in the ape's pupils.

All you can see right now — is a male. And you're scared again.

Where the wound gapes on your thigh, only threads remain of the fabric of your trousers, exposing your vulnerable skin.

All you can do now is desperately cover yourself with what's left of your shirt. So that he doesn’t see how the blood flows from your neck to your collarbones, and from there to the valley between your breasts. But he sees. And his gaze is almost no different from other men predatory gazes.

You look up at him and press yourself into the tree trunk. You look like a small cornered animal.

“I won’t hurt you...” he says, sitting down on the ground and extending his hand to help you up. "Who are they? Why are you... in blood?"

Huddled in patches of wet grass, away from the outstretched hand, you tremble.

Even your eyelashes, which have absorbed the moisture of the coming morning, tremble.

“Noa” he gestures to himself, looking at you expectantly. He sighs as you curl into a ball, tucking your knees to your chest. "Do you have a name? Home? Family?.."

He saved you from a long and inevitable life similar to death - and it seems that he does not intend to kill you... But why?

How could your deceased parents, who protected you from all evil that exists, be mistaken in human actions? Could a woman who protected you at the cost of her life lie about ape's earth? Could the legend passed down from mouth to mouth be just a fiction to keep women within the walls of the dungeon? Why he help you now?..

And is this help? He killed them. This means that he can easily kill you too if he feels like it.

His hands are just as stained with blood as yours. One of them pierced his palm with a knife, which remained in the ravine. His fingers almost touch your languishing in pain shoulder. Why would he, ape, help you, human? Why is he still holding his long, furry hand outstretched?.. Closing your eyes and biting your tongue so as not to answer his questions, you shake your head.

You will not say a word to any one of the men, or any one of the males.

After your silence, that ringing louder than chirping insects, calloused monkey hands lift you from the damp ground. You fight back, squeal, scratch in frightened agony... He growls threateningly, but holds you carefully. His fur is soaked with blood from your wounds. You whine in despair.

"You have a strong spirit" his chin ends up on the back of your head as the ring of his arms wraps tightly around your shoulders. You try to free yourself again, but he is strong and stubborn. "But the body... is weak. Need help"

You feel the words he said on your tangled hair.

You can hear two more apes riding up on horses, talking about something with the male who holding you. You can see, this is also a chimpanzee. It looks like they were here for no reason. But at night?.. You try to listen to what they are saying, but you feel that you are about to lose consciousness, that you are about to fall into the abyss.

Only fragments of phrases reach your ears.

"The echo only brings danger... Destruction"

"Should I have left her? To be eaten by scavengers?"

“But why is the echo here?.. How did she escape from them?”

"And why did they want...?" the alarmed question hangs mid-sentence, amid the dawn and dew.

One of the apes — is female. And you look at her while a barely audible rustle sounds on your lips.

"Knock my teeth out?" you asking, continuing her question in a whisper. "Because I bit off the finger of one of them, and the ear of the second. I can also bite something off for them inadvertently” you assure her, shaking from fear, cold and the grip on your shoulders.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth after the words are spoken. The sound of your voice makes the male who won’t let you go hooting. You feel the muscles in his neck move.

Water, at least one sip of water — is all you think about...

"Why does the echo speak to Soona and silent to Noa?" asks the third ape without any malice, only with curiosity.

The pain beats in your temples without stopping. If they are talking about you, then why do they call you "echo"?..

“Stupid Anaya,” the female shows an unclear gesture, slowly approaching you on all fours. Almost the same as you did when you were hiding. "Don't you see? She's scared"

"I saw... their faces. Without pity. They would have killed her... What else could I do?" you feel how the hands of the male holding you cover your body, stronger than before. "I don't know who she is. I don't know where she's from. But how to help her if she... Is silent?"

The annoyance in Noa tone is almost as palpable as the welt that will soon appear on his palm. But you keep your mouth shut.

"So what's your name, echo?" Looking into your eyes, swollen from tears, Soona asks.

“...Y/N” You answer her. Although you still apprehensive.

They're, surrounding you worriedly, say a lot more. They apparently intend to take you to their clan - while you rest your humming head on the ape's fur and watch the clouds change colour from purple to yellow and scarlet.

The fear and ignorance of having nowhere to go disappears. All the colors of dawn fade before your eyes, turning into ripples.

The morning light doesn't help with the darkness and fog in your eyes. At this moment, you are grateful that the ape's hands are holding you, and you will not have to fall again. You smile at the sun's rays, unable to object and almost no longer feeling your numb leg.

Taking your hands in his, Noa helps you to your feet. He grabs you by the waist, placing you on the horse. His movements are gentle — you hardly feel any pain, even when he holds your still bleeding shoulder. You can barely keep your balance, so as soon Noa sits in front, you unconsciously wrap your arms around him. Soona and Anaya are still constantly discussing something. With arguments and gestures whose meaning you don't know.

Why do you remember ape's names?..

Behind the lush crowns of trees you can see a flowering valley, which seems like paradise to you.

The last thing you hear before you close your eyes from fatigue — is Noa's voice. In the thick fur on his back you sleepily bury your nose, when he says that the road will be long, and tells you to hold on tight.

#creation #creation series #noa #noa x reader #noa x human reader #planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota #pota #sshasshwords #fanfiction #fanfic

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johaerys-writes · 27 days ago

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Chapter 3: El Diablo En El Ojo

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The western wind is hot and humid as it sweeps over the valley, drifting in through the half open windows. It brings with it the the smell of warm, freshly tilled soil, of hay and manure, the lowing of the cattle and the clop of hooves from the round corral where the horses train. Achilles heaves a great sigh, letting his gaze stretch far across the yellow-blue afternoon sky.

“Abscesses, as our trusty compendium puts it, are a collection of pus or purulent matter among the tissues of the body, and are a result of acute inflammation; occurring in a weak or scrofulous person, they may last indefinitely, in which case… Achilles, are you listening to me?”

Achilles reluctantly tears his eyes from the window to look at his tutor. Chiron is frowning at him over the rim of his round reading glasses, Dr. Hippocrates' thick Compendium of Maladies and Formulae open on the table before him. Achilles straightens in his chair, trying to look invested, and doubting very much that he’s doing a good job at it.

“Of course,” he says. “I’m all ears.”

“Oh yes, and they’re everywhere but here.” Chiron, of course, doesn’t look convinced. “Will you indulge me, then, by reminding me how to treat an acute abscess, in advance of a doctor?”

Achilles takes a breath, trying to jog his memory. “When it forms near the surface, a poultice with flaxseed meal or bread and milk is preferred. Open and drain the abscess as soon as pus has formed, and keep clean with castille soap and water.”

“Correct. And what if there are indications that the abscess is not near the surface? If it’s in, let’s say, the brain?”

“Why, then, I think our fellow’s a goner, Chiron,” Achilles quips with a grin.

Chiron doesn’t seem to share his amusement in the slightest; he shakes his head and lets out a long-suffering sigh as he takes off his glasses.

“I wish you would take your instruction seriously every once in a while, Achilles,” he tells him, setting down his now folded glasses on the lace tablecloth, and closing the big tome. “We’ve been here for the better part of the afternoon, and I doubt that even a third of that information has made it into that brain of yours.”

Achilles stretches his arms over his head with a groan and arches his aching back. Though the chairs in his father’s old study are quite comfortable, it still doesn’t make it any more enjoyable to spend most of his day cooped up in the stuffy room, when he could be outside, working or training or riding until both his own and Xanthus’ skin are damp with sweat and glistening. The large clock on the far wall idly ticks away the time, an insistent reminder of how slowly it passes when he’s studying, and how fast it flows when he’s anywhere but here.

It's not that he doesn’t enjoy his lessons with Chiron. He does, a great deal. Chiron is a renowned teacher, with vast knowledge on pretty much every subject imaginable. There is nothing under the sun, Achilles thinks, that Chiron isn't at least a little familiar with. Every day, Chiron teaches him maths and language and science and philosophy, but his teachings don't stop there: his tutor often takes him to the stables, the pens and the fields to show him how to harvest plants, how to treat wounded and sick animals, how to read the signs in the sky, the clouds, the birds, the stars.

There is no other tutor that could teach as much, and so effectively. Achilles is well aware of how lucky he is. But today, with the merry sounds of the ranch coming through the window taunting him, he simply can't sit still. His mind is elsewhere, miles away—or perhaps just a quick hop and skip away, where the stables are, where Patroclus is.

The mere thought of the boy makes Achilles all giddy and flushed. He's probably hard at work just now, tending to the horses or cleaning the stalls, his shirt sleeves bunched up to his elbows and the sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. There is nothing Achilles craves more after a long day of studying or working than spending the rest of it with him, and he knows Patroclus feels the same. The bright smiles he gives him whenever he sees him are evidence enough, and although Achilles gets to see them everyday now, they still feel like a rare gift. It hasn't been too long since Patroclus regarded him with wariness after all, but over the course of the summer, something has changed. Achilles feels changed just by being around him.

Achilles' heart skips and thumps in his chest. It’s been happening more often of late that simply thinking of Patroclus makes something warm and fuzzy blossom in his chest. It’s thrilling, but it’s also scary in its potency. As much as he likes spending time with his other friends, never before has he felt such a visceral need for someone else’s company.

His father’s words, however, are never far from his mind.

In the Great War, after men got their first kill… this is what their eyes looked like.

Perhaps it is Patroclus himself that scares him, sometimes.

“Chiron,” Achilles says after a while. “Can I ask you something?”

Chiron, who was flipping through the pages of the medical compendium again and muttering under his breath about poultices and grain-pills of Hepor Sulphur to help hasten suppuration, blinks up at him. “Yes, of course.”

Achilles licks his lips, swallowing hard. He doesn’t know how to ask the question without sounding odd, so he just goes for it. “If someone kills another person… does that mean they’re a bad person?”

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #tsoa #hades game #the iliad #homer's iliad #cowboy au #johaerys writes

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violetlunette · 9 months ago

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A Hopeless Wish

Summary: After dealing with his grandson, Malleus returns to the tower.

Sequel to this

Later that night, when the moon was high, Malleus returned to the room, his black robes sweeping across the polished floors.

The moonlight flowed in, bathing the room in white and illuminating all within. With a motion of Malleus' hand, the curtains were pulled aside for the old king.

He took a seat near the top of the bed, though usually he sat at the end. The dragon didn’t look at Silver right away, instead focusing on the blanket. His long, pale fingers smoothed the edges of the sheets his grandchild had messed up. A soft smile crossed his lips.

“I see you met Mallow,” he said to Silver in a quiet tone. “He’s Lily’s and Baulder’s son. Baulder is Sebek’s great-grandson. I told you of their curious engagement long ago, remember…?” Only the faint breaths of a deep slumber met him, as usual. Yet Malleus continued to speak as if doing so could change—something.

“Well. It’s better than when Lily found you. She thought I was keeping a corpse here.” Though, for all intents and purposes, perhaps he was.

Malleus traced the gold bird designs of the blanket, a recent replacement of others over the centuries.

“...Mallow reminds me a lot of Sebek, though he’s a bit more haughty, just like his mother. I’ll admit that’s partly my fault. I spoil him far too much. Hopefully, he’ll grow out of it.” A chuckle slipped between the pale lips. “Don’t let that fool you, however. He’s as soft as a marshmallow. Though he would pout if you told him that…” The laughter echoed around the room before silence fell once more.

A weight fell on Malleus’ shoulders.

For ten thousand years, Malleus came to see the knight, praying for even the slightest change. And yet...

He looked away; his sorrow had long since been past tears. After ten thousand years, what was there left to say?

He told Mallow that he had hope, but in truth, he lost that eons ago. Now all Malleus had was a pitiful wish.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Malleus looked at the teenager, lost among dreams.

“Silver… Please.” Malleus’ hand moved to the other’s. “Wake up. Please.” Every night, he seemed to plead this. And he wasn’t the only one. He recalled Lilia making the same wish every night before he died, and Sebek as well.

They hung a wish on every star they could find. It hadn't done any good so far.

Malleus could only dream of the past and the boy, but his memories were starting to fade.

He couldn’t remember the boy’s laugh, his small habits, or even his voice anymore. Even Silver's eyes were a distant memory.

Malleus sighed and looked away, watching his shadow in the moonlight.

Thanks to Silver, Malleus lived a good life. His kind lived in peace with humans and beastmen, and he had a beautiful family he adored above all. Without the bravery of his knight, none of that would have happened. That was part of why he kept the other for so long.

But even for a dragon, Malleus was old. And once he was gone, who would care for Silver? Who would be left to remember him?

Would the human be lost to time? Hidden among the thorns and dust till time itself ended? Forgotten by the world?

Malleus reached into his robes and withdrew a long dagger. It glinted in the light with a soft shing.

Malleus’ face was carved from stone as he looked at his reflection in the silver blade.

‘Maybe, after all this time, it’s time to end this.’ It broke his heart to even consider it, but it seemed kinder than the option of leaving him to sleep alone forever.

‘At least then he may be able to meet Lilia and Sebek again.’ The other two spent so long trying to get Silver back. Perhaps, in the other world, they could be reunited at last.

And yet--something stayed his hand.

With a shaky breath, he lowered the blade. He then turned to Silver and reached out with his other hand, brushing the starlit bangs from the closed eyes.

“Silver, I… everything I have is because of you, Lilia, and Sebek,” he said softly, cupping the other’s face as he recalled all he had gained over these long years. “We lived our lives. Now, it’s time to live your life. So, please...Please, Silver. Wake up.”

Wake up.

#mine #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #silver twst #silver vanrouge #silver twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus #twst diasomnia #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst ficlet

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melliae · 4 months ago

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Assorted Pharos/Ryoji Thoughts

So, huh, don’t expect something too meaningful or conclusive for this. It’s quite literally just me rambling about the possible connections and influences Pharos and Ryoji have as they come. Quite messy, and it may not make much sense…

Phallus and Birds

As I said in my post about Nyx, Pharos’ japanese name (“ファルロス”) isn’t a word that exists. It’s a combination of “ファルス” (“Phallus”) and “ファロス” (“Pharos”, as in the lighthouse of Alexandria). The two of them mark him as the masculine aspect of the Star Eater (i.e., its psyche), while its body remains as the feminine or maternal one.

“In this sense, the concept of matter is also only one archetypal representation among many others; indeed the concept of matter derives from the archetype of the Great Mother. [...] The archetype of the Father, that is, of the mind, is the polar opposite.” - Psyche and Matter, by Marie-Louise von Franz.

This divide is important to make clear, since it harks back to one of the fundamental inspirations mentioned by the FES Fan Book: Jung’s childhood dream about “Father Phallos”. I’m not going to explain it since it’s somewhat long, but the gist is that it acted as one of the foundations of Jung’s work, as seen with Seven Sermons to the Dead:

“Spirituality conceiveth and embraceth. It is womanlike and therefore we call it mater coelestis, the celestial mother. Sexuality engendereth and createth. It is manlike, and therefore we call it phallos, the earthly father.” - Sermo V.

I’m not going into detail about what Jung exactly meant by “womanlike” or “manlike” beyond pointing out it is more akin to the Yin and Yang division, but through western or hermetic lens.

While the parts of sexuality and creativity are better represented by Ryoji for obvious reasons, the identification between Pharos and Father Phallos is still important because it points to the former’s future as the “son” or “avatar” of “Dea Luna Satanas”.

I put Systema Munditotius here again because it’s a graphical summary of the cosmology and psychological principles presented in Seven Sermons, showing how the human mind is a whole that encompasses all dualities. But instead of focusing on the vertical axis this time, I’m going to explain the horizontal one, where we can see:

The Emptiness (the black circle named “Inane”) at the leftmost extreme, whose dissolving and destructive capacities are manifested in the figure of “the Devil”, represented by the waxing moon—the so-called “Dea Luna Satanas” or “Goddess Moon Satan”.

The Fullness (the white circle named “Plenum”) at the rightmost extreme, with its creative capacities manifesting in the golden circle called “Deus Sol”, the Godly Sun.

Now, despite the presence of another Devil-like figure in the series (Nyarlathotep, with the japanese version of Eternal Punishment directly calling him “the archetype that destroys humans egos”), it’s undeniable the connection between Nyx as the moon and, well, the lunar Satan described in the Sermo IV:

“The dark gods form the earth-world. They are simple and infinitely diminishing and declining. The devil is the earth-world’s lowest lord, the moon-spirit, satellite of the earth, smaller, colder, and more dead than the earth.”

And that’s where the other half of the left side enters: the Devil-Moon is the root of everything that’s “physical”, the “visible” and “sensual” spirits of earth (the green circle named “Mater Natura”) that manifest through the sexuality of the Phallos, who lies in the “depths of the earth” according to Jung’s dream—in the unconscious, with the Dark Hour being a symbol of it. That’s to say, Father Phallos and thus Pharos are the result of the countless souls that are attached to earth, of people dead in spirit and alive in bodies—of the Lost, and those who transmogrify each night, and those who have lost all hope.

However, unlike Pharos, the Avatar doesn’t show many “sensual” details, despite the entire Fool’s Journey it/he recited being a perfect metaphor of the earthly/gross side of life (i.e., you are born, you grow, you die); on the contrary, it presents a couple of celestial characteristics. The meaning of these properties lie on the other half of the right hemisphere, in the heavenly sphere that the wise kin of the Sun inhabits, communicating with the receptive nature of the human soul (or Celestial Mother) in the form of a white bird—the Holy Spirit.

“The white bird is a half-celestial soul of man. He bideth with the Mother, from time to time descending. The bird hath a nature like unto man, and is effective thought. He is chaste and solitary, a messenger of the Mother. He flieth high above earth. He commandeth singleness. He bringeth knowledge from the distant ones who went before and are perfected. He beareth our word above to the Mother.” - Sermo VI.

Yet, due to Nyx’s body being a shadowy reflection of the Heavenly Mother, it’s to be expected the Bird too becomes twisted, from a pure white dove into a pitch-black crow. There’s no need to go over all the references to black birds during the game, from Tartarus to Nyx Avatar—the messenger or “angel” of Nyx.

So, on one side we have Death as a Shadow, primitive and all-consuming, and on the other we have Ryoji, a conscious being filled to the brim with love and energy. Pharos is, then, the in-between, the liminal state between consciousness and unconsciousness, a baby that’s trying to break free from the grip of the unconscious’ “womb”, yet joins the “divine” with the mortal.

“The "child" is born out of the womb of the unconscious, begotten out of the depths of human nature, or rather out of living Nature herself. It is a personification of vital forces quite outside the limited range of our conscious mind; of ways and possibilities of which our one-sided conscious mind knows nothing; a wholeness which embraces the very depths of Nature.” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

Be it from Nyx or the protagonist/Makoto himself, Death/Pharos/Ryoji, from the moment his being was fragmented, sought separation and division, to know where his essence began and ended. He was trying to create himself. That’s the most beneficial manifestation of the Phallos: the birth of a “sun” or (primitive) consciousness through the active energy of the unconscious.

“The psychic life-force, the libido, symbolizes itself in the sun or personifies itself in figures of heroes with solar attributes. At the same time it expresses itself through phallic symbols.” - Symbols of Transformation.

An event comparable to the separation of the waters through the spirit (or “dove”) of God himself, or to the eating of the fruit of knowledge upon the serpent’s goading. That’s to say, a manifestation of the beginning of individuation, the development of the—his—Self out of the unconscious’ waters.

Introversion and Extraversion

Makoto is introverted, and Ryoji extraverted.

…

Okay. That isn’t something new, like, at all. But it’s a good start, since I’m not referring to the popular conception that we have of introversion and extraversion, but to the jungian one, explained in Psychological Types:

“The introvert’s attitude is an abstracting one; at bottom, he is always intent on withdrawing libido from the object, as though he had to prevent the object from gaining power over him. The extravert, on the contrary, has a positive relation to the object. He affirms its importance to such an extent that his subjective attitude is constantly related to and oriented by the object.”

I went into a deeper explanation in my post about Philemon’s and Nyarlathotep’s Types, but the above is the main idea: the introverted individual focuses inwards, in the inner realm of the universal “subjective factor” or unconscious, and the extraverted individual focuses their energy into the external world and its objects, relating to the present. As a compensatory method, the differentiated attitude of consciousness will be opposed by the acquisition of the contrary attitude within the unconscious, giving rise to psychic wholeness and certain peculiarities that, for the moment, aren’t important.

Now, with that out of the way, I want to focus on a particular scene described by the book, about an interpretation about Spitteler’s “Prometheus and Epimetheus”, with Jung concluding that the brothers are representations of introversion and extraversion respectively:

“For just as Prometheus makes all his passion, his whole libido flow inwards to the soul, to his innermost depths, dedicating himself entirely to his soul’s service, so God pursues his course round and round the pivot of the world and exhausts himself exactly like Prometheus, who is near to self-extinction. All his libido has gone into the unconscious, where an equivalent must be prepared; for libido is energy, and energy cannot disappear without a trace, but must always produce an equivalent. This equivalent is Pandora and the gift she brings to her father: a precious jewel which she wants to give to mankind to ease their sufferings.”

Prometheus parted ways with the outer world to focus completely on his soul, the realm of the unconscious and his Anima. Understanding that libido can be symbolized by fire, light and heat, then Prometheus’ actions can be interpreted as he trying to “incubate” the treasure that lies deep within, which is compared in other parts of the book with the dharmic tapas or meditation, and the birth of the Buddha, one of the “three jewels”… The underlying meaning of the scene should be obvious at this point.

“The moon with her antithetical nature is, in a sense, a prototype of individuation, a prefiguration of the self: she is the “mother and spouse of the sun, who carries in the wind and the air the spagyric embryo conceived by the sun in her womb and belly.” This image corresponds to the psychologem of the pregnant anima, whose child is the self, or is marked by the attributes of the hero.” - Mysterium Coniunctionis.

A renewal of the “Sun”, who is no other than Pharos/Ryoji himself. Or do you think the sobriquet of Saturn, the Persona unlocked through his Linked Episodes, is for nothing?

Just like the maternal Nyx holds the golden, cosmic egg inside its body, Makoto “incubates” within him the seed of a new life, enveloping it/him just like the ocean does with all sorts of “primitive” life. This is not surprising considering that introversion is the “feminine” (or “ying”) attitude, and that Makoto was, in fact, described as the “mother” of Pharos in the Club Book (Thanks to elle-p for pointing it out!).

But I think there’s something much more interesting in how Makoto “incubated” Ryoji, because just like the moon, as a symbol of the Anima, carries “the child of the sun”, Prometheus makes his libido flow towards his soul… or Anima. That’s to say, both Makoto and Ryoji, at some level, represent each other’s Anima, the sexual counterimage to consciousness that mediates the collective unconscious.

(While technically a non-canon portrayal of things, I still think it fits here :) After all, we know butterflies represent the souls of individuals in the series)

It’s not a perfect correlation naturally; the soul-image is that of the opposite gender of consciousness, to balance the psyche. But the mirror idea is the basis of their relationship, with Ryoji and the protagonist playing each other’s attitudes. The movies are more explicit with this, and there’s a particular quote I really hold close to my heart:

“綾時は理の対極にいるようなキャラクターです。物静かな理と社交的な綾時は"静と動"の関係であり，彼らの対比第3章の物語に欠かせない視点をもたらしています” - Keitaro Motonaga, Persona 3: Falling Down Pamphlet.

“Ryoji is a character that feels like the opposite of Makoto. The quiet Makoto and the sociable Ryoji have a relationship of ‘stillness and motion’, and their contrast brings about an indispensable perspective in the third chapter of this story.”

The connections are clear: Makoto is an introverted sensor (ISxx), and Ryoji is an extroverted intuitive (ENxx). And if we really break down their character, Makoto is an ISFJ (overall ISFx, with the J/P depending on the particular media) and Ryoji an ENFP, which is pretty damn close to a mirror match! You can compare them with Elizabeth, who is likely an ENTP.

Anyway, what’s more interesting in Ryoji’s Type is how it’s described on Psychological Types, under the “Extraverted Intuitive” section:

Going from “object” to “object” and situation to situation, never satisfied with the current circumstances staying the same.

That applies to people too, how they can go from “adventure” to “adventure” in search of romance.

Thanks to the enthusiasm they hold for what is next, they are able to inspire others as well.

Their unconsciousness is mainly governed by an archaic Sensation directed towards introversion, which means their blind spot corresponds to the endosomatic part of the senses, manifesting as strange and absurd sensations (which yes, it can include perceiving the world as dream-like).

And since Ryoji is a feeler as well, all those characteristics acquire a romantic tinge, seeing things by what they emotionally mean instead of what they (sensually) are. Does it sound familiar? Metaphors about “flowing water” maybe? You can quite literally do one of those school homeworks of joining columns with those points and Ryoji’s characterization.

Another interesting thing to consider is the contrastive relation between Ryoji’s and Makoto’s Types, which returns to my previous point of Ryoji being “incubated” through Makoto’s introversion, because he’s the personification of Makoto’s unconscious functions. The only exception is Ryoji being an extraverted feeler (ExFx) instead of an extraverted thinker (like with Elizabeth again, or Metis), but I still think it fits with Edogawa’s explanations in P4G:

“However, it's not impossible that you might have picked it. The other path was certainly a logical choice. Your Shadow is the path that you didn't take. In other words...It is another you. The Shadow is the ‘you that wasn't picked.’”

Through his fear and trauma, Makoto withheld all the “heat” he could have vested life with inside his soul, warming and breathing life into the “seed” that was sealed within. But whereas the Shadow merely personifies that repressed libido and possibilities, Ryoji became human only through living them—he didn’t only embody Makoto’s repressed yearnings and sufferings, but made them his own. This returns once more to the “jewel” of Pandora that doesn’t solely belong to Prometheus (i.e., Makoto), but to the whole world.

“hell: a name for the *prima materia, the *black colour which appears during the *putrefaction of the matter of the Stone at the *nigredo, the torture through which the ‘body’ of the Stone passes while being dissolved by the secret fire. [...] The nigredo stage is also known as ‘Tartarus’. During the process of the nigredo the colour of the putrefaction is said to be as black as pitch, and the shades of hell appear. A profound blackness reigns both over the matter in the alembic and over the alchemist who may experience the torments of hell while witnessing the shadow or underworld of the psyche.” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery, by Lyndy Abraham.

There’s no need to explain why Tartarus and the Dark Hour are the unconscious, but I’ve to in regards to how they represent Makoto’s “stagnant hell” and their relationship with alchemy.

Fire and Motion

According to the same book I quoted before, “A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery”, towers in general can be interpreted to be symbols of the alchemical alembic, the main instrument through which the alchemists try to create the philosophers’ stone. However, alchemy is both an outer and inner discipline, so the tower isn’t merely a symbol for the external instrument, but also for the inner one: the human soul, which is put through “hellish” heat to purify it. Thus, towers, hell, and the individual become synonyms for the same alchemical instrument of transformation, fueled by the “secret” or “inner fire” that, in this case, corresponds to Makoto’s libido.

If we follow the normal alchemical process, then Death/Ryoji should be equal to the prima materia or the “first matter” used to create the Stone. But since the Stone is a symbol of the Self, the presence of Ryoji is iffy unless we, instead of thinking of him as the actual goal of alchemy, interpret him as the “secondary” goal, as gold itself, the mineralized/gross essence of the sun.

“But when the alchemists speak of gold they mean more than material gold. In the microcosmic-macrocosmic law of correspondences, gold is the metallic equivalent of the sun, the image of the sun buried in the earth. The sun in turn is the physical equivalent of the eternal spirit which lodges in the heart (the ‘sun’ of the human microcosm).” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery.

This is a topic I already explained previously, since “sun = life = libido = phallus”, corresponding to the masculine/yang/extraverted side of things. As I previously noted on Nyx's post, one can see all of these correspondences with Ryoji’s infamous yellow scarf that represents the golden color—Nyx's core—of the final battle according to the Design Works (again, thanks to elle-p for pointing out that indecipherable text!), decidedly marking him as a product of Makoto’s inner work—as his “mineralized” life-energy.

But to describe Ryoji as purely gold would be incorrect; he’s far from being a pure manifestation of the incorruptible essence of the sun. His true nature is pointed by, again, the final Persona of his Linked Episodes, Saturn, the black sun .

“This power is called ‘sulphur.’ It is a hot, daemonic principle of life, having the closest affinities with the sun in the earth, the “central fire” or ‘ignis gehennalis’ (fire of hell). Hence there is also a Sol niger, a black sun, which coincides with the nigredo and putrefactio, the state of death.” - Mysterium Coniunctionis.

It’s darkness itself, the stagnation of life and its energy that leads to the state we see in the Dark Hour: putrid and rotten to the core, stagnated and filled to the brim with the dead and lost in life. It’s the collective “dark night of the soul”, the nigredo stage of alchemy of all humanity that can only be overcome by setting the world in “fire”, the element of motion and change that makes the clock advance with each full moon and each cleared floor in Tartarus, for better or worse. The transformation of Death into Ryoji is just the repetition of such a process at the individual level.

And if all of that sounds familiar, it should be! That’s the fundamental meaning of both the Fortune and Death arcanas, representing the nature of life as endlessly changing to represent its wholeness. Thus, life stagnating and “becoming a void” is a paradox that must be solved by reigniting its motion/change, lest it collapses into itself.

“This card is attributed to the letter Nun, which means a fish; the symbol of life beneath the waters; life travelling through the waters. [...] In alchemy, this card explains the idea of putrefaction, the technical name given by its adepts to the series of chemical changes which develops the final form of life from the original latent seed in the Orphic egg.” - Book of Thoth, by Aleister Crowley.

The Death arcana is that hellish fire that puts people under the most unbearable pain to put things in the correct path once more. Due to that, it has three “manifestations”: the scorpion that kills itself when finding itself surrounded by “fire”; the serpent that renews itself through its shedding, crawling and thus still attached to earth; and the eagle, the spirit of life that soars the sky, unbounded by and embracing change at the same time. Yet, Death as a Shadow represents the contrary, the stagnated core of the Dark Hour that leads all to its destruction and that must be burned—killed and resurrected

Alchemy is necessarily a violent process, because it requires the constant death and union of the elements so they can be “perfected”. In Death’s case, its alchemical work began from the moment it was separated/“killed” and sealed in Makoto, who is a stand-in for the maternal womb, the alchemical vessel, and the mercurial waters that dissolve the murdered element. Yet, as the alchemist himself, Makoto also pours his own life and heat into the dissolved Shadow to unify and resurrect it in a new, “purer” shape: Pharos, the “creativity” of a nascent sun, the seed of a new life.

(By that matter, Nyx crashing against earth follows a similar pattern: the original being is mutilated and “dissolved” through the alambique—the primordial hadean life. The broken egg or core is an image that has the same meaning as the separation of Death; both fall under the dismemberment motif of alchemy)

But then, how does all of this relate with Saturn? Well, it’s because Saturn has a really long history in hermeticism, alchemy, and astrology: he represents the outermost and heaviest planet of all, embodying the limitations and structure of the universe such as time and death, devouring nature to rebirth it once again. Furthermore, the planet is associated with none other than lead, the heaviest metal that’s commonly used as a metaphor for the first matter, the moribund nature that… well, it should be obvious what one must do.

And funnily enough, just as fire is the element of transformation and renewal, Intuition in general corresponds to the function that oversees the dynamic elements of reality. It perceives the relations and motion between external/internal objects. So in more than one sense, Ryoji is the “inner fire”/“spirit” of Makoto. However, since alchemy deals with opposites and due to his nature as the black sun/saturn, there must be a limiting element in nature to restrain his ever-expanding/intuitive nature…

The Bonds of Death

Why a scarf? Why not another piece of cloth or even jewelry? Well, the image above answers why: a scarf is no different from a noose, one of the most common elements of death deities and grim reaper figures around the world, for what’s death but a hunter of humans? Thus, Ryoji’s scarf is a symbol of how even himself is bound to death, to his underlying nature.

“The difference seems to be due to the repression of real sensations. These make themselves felt when, for instance, the intuitive suddenly finds himself entangled with a highly unsuitable woman—or, in the case of a woman, with an unsuitable man—because these persons have stirred up the archaic sensations.” - Psychological Types.

I can hardly argue in favor of the “unsuitable” part, but there’s no need to really explain the other one, right? “Déjà vu” and all. That’s the “magical” part of Introverted Sensation, which transforms the sensed objects into symbols of the collective psyche through impressing it onto them. And in case of inferior Sensation, as presented above, those filtered sensations become “effective entities” on their own right since the archetypal forces of the unconscious control them, possessing them even. This strengthens the idea of Ryoji’s attraction being rooted not only in the forgotten or unconscious memories of when he was Pharos, existing in a liminal state between consciousness and unconsciousness, but also points to how those memories are themselves mixed with archaic, mythological imagery, and that only has one source.

The protagonist is Ryoji’s “alchemist” and thus an equal to his “mother”, a reflection of Nyx as Death’s “mother”, the “black ocean” from which the transmuted golden egg (or seed) was extracted. This relationship is also pointed out by the fortune teller in club Escapade during January, explaining how “nothingness is the other face of the infinite world/universe”, ultimately hinting at the same thing I explained through the inferior Sensation: the oneness between the figure of Nyx and Makoto (understanding him as a symbol for all humanity).

In particular, I think the image above is perfect for this, since not only Nyx’s core and Makoto are (close to be) superimposed with each other, but also due to the black spiral in the background. The spiral also appears on the Great Seal’s surface, and within this context I have to quote Jung once more:

“We can hardly escape the feeling that the unconscious process moves spiral-wise round a centre, gradually getting closer, while the characteristics of the centre grow more and more distinct. Or perhaps we could put it the other way round and say that the centre—itself virtually unknowable—acts like a magnet on the disparate materials and processes of the unconscious and gradually captures them as in a crystal lattice. For this reason the centre is (in other cases) often pictured as a spider in its web (fig. 108), especially when the conscious attitude is still dominated by fear of unconscious processes.” - Psychology and Alchemy.

The book and even the own paragraph goes on to say that the “centre” is the Self (along with a noteworthy mention of the orphic egg again). But more importantly is the mention of the web here, representing consciousness’ “fear” of joining into the endless spiral that moves around without end, and its connection to the first kanji of Ryoji’s name: “綾”, which means “twill weave” or a “pattern of diagonal stripes”, a textile element that shouldn’t be so different from a web. Needless to say, all of that is connected to the figure of the alchemist/crafter and that of a mother.

The scarf in the first image, due to the fetal position of Ryoji, can be read as an umbilical (normally red) cord connecting him to Makoto/the “mother”, while the second is a little more explicit with the association to the red thread of fate—and what other fate there’s but death? Ryoji’s inherent connection to Death and Nyx is expressed through the “golden cord” that his scarf is, which can also be read as a noose, and as a manifestation of the inferior Sensation, the static element that eternally joins him to his source.

(Scan uploaded by Vesk)

Even the final resolution of Ryoji and Makoto, the white stone and pure dove incarnated, can’t abandon the chain that binds them to death and its hellish fire. However, this time is a willing acceptance of its existence, holding it with one’s hand instead of letting it strangle the individual unconsciously. Even the hands at the waist are holding each other gently, representing the final union of the “lovers” at the top of the alembic—at the top of Tartarus—in the form of a winged spirit.

“The united bodies of sulphur and argent vive, usually symbolized by a pair of lovers, are killed, dissolved and laid in a grave to putrefy during the stage known as the *nigredo. Their souls fly to the top of the alembic while the blackened *hermaphroditic body is sublimed, distilled and purified. When the body is cleansed to perfect whiteness it is then reunited with the soul (or united soul and spirit).” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery.

Death is fate indeed, and in that fire, change and life. It’s the ultimate “fetter” that no one can go against, let alone the immortals that do not fear it.

#persona 3 #persona 3 spoilers #ryoji mochizuki #makoto yuki #persona 3 protagonist #thematic analysis kinda?#there's a lot more I could comment here #specially in relation to his relationship with junpei since both of them are “red”#but I think this enough for the moment

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