#mildew proof

[mmusu]

Contemporary Basement - Lookout An illustration of a mid-sized, contemporary look-out basement with carpeting, beige walls, and no fireplace

[madisonetjenifer]

Contemporary Basement - Lookout

An illustration of a mid-sized, contemporary look-out basement with carpeting, beige walls, and no fireplace

[love-bylerstuff]

Byler makes more sense than mildew ever will. Eleven asked Mike to be her brother right before he kissed her. Mike was only using her to find will, then he said he would turn her in. Both of these things are from season one before outside things were brought in.

[attractthecrows]

finished the last cloud wall. minus the boat. that's still a work in progress. also fwiw only 2 of these colors was a new purchase (moonlit beach off-white and taffy twist background) the rest were leftover samples from previous murals

started the living room. gonna be a gradient abstract landscape. also mostly using paint samples except for the background. that reminds me i need to find the chalk string

[bronzingfabricfactory]

Luxury and elegant mildew-proof frosted velvet printed sofa fabric

[pomefioredove]

Noble Bell ; Book One, Part I ; The King of Truands

what if you were sent to Noble Bell College instead?

type of post: series characters: rollo, original characters (pierrot, bou, phoenix) additional info: reader is gender neutral, this is mostly my own vision, influenced by Disney's Hunchback, the 1939 movie, and the original novel

prologue | the king of truands, one | the king of truands, two |

Chapter One

That night, while you slept on uncomfortable bed of straw and mildewed wood, a council was held.

It is important to note that, for all its rules, and there were many, the body of staff of the proud Noble Bell College were rather removed from the common life. Outside the realm of the lecture hall and the office, the scholars were governed by a democratic and elected student council, that which organized the events, kept order, and administered discipline, when necessary.

The council was entirely egalitarian, but there are three key members: The Justice of the Peace, now sitting at the right hand of the stand, looking rather bored, The Vice President, M. Bou de Neige, whom we have already met, and The President, who is unusually absent on this chilled evening.

These three people are responsible for an entire body of students. They are looked up to, not only as scholars, but as diplomats, peacekeepers, and leaders. They are expected to keep the students best interests close to heart, to be the bridge between the scholar and the staff, and this is no easy burden, despite most of the council being no older than sixteen years of age.

You must understand, then, the significance of tonight's council.

Gathered around the dark hall, illuminated by the fire burning at one end of the long room, scholars and staff alike exchange whispers, glances, and moods.

"As far as I'm aware, they're still on school grounds," the Justice of the Peace scratches his head with his quill, and a spurt of black ink stains his light brown hair. "One of my men saw them going with Gregoire to La Tombe."

Bou de Neige, who had, up until this point, been rather quiet, grimaces. "The fool. He just can't help himself, can he?"

"Hospitality is a virtue," says the headmaster, a graying, old man in a white cloak by name of Monsieur Diacre.

"Where is the President?"

"No one can find him," Bou says. "I will be speaking for him tonight."

"Perhaps we should postpone until he's been found?" a council member echoes.

"As much as I would like to, this matter is grave," Monsieur Diacre says. "A decision must be made tonight. The fate of this stranger depends on our council."

A low murmur reverberates through the room.

"Now, I have received word from two arcane academies, and there, no mention has been found of this place they say they came from, in any language, in any history. There is, in principle, no proof that this person has ever existed.

Despite this, they have appeared at our doorstep, in our clothes. By merit, the Bell of Solace has seen them fit as a student of Noble Bell College."

Bou stands. "With all due respect, sir, I strongly disagree. How do we know they are not a thief, a beggar, or a vagrant? You know well the problems Fleur City has-"

"There is another thing," Monsieur Diacre says, calm despite the tension in the hall. "Perhaps even more grave."

"And that is?"

"If you will recall, some hours ago, in my office?"

"Yes," Bou says, sitting down again with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "A useless conversation about their home, which does not exist, because they are a liar, a thief."

"Not so. Remember the way their eyes clouded when we discussed the Bell, the school, and the ceremony? How they asked, in that confounded tone, about magic? Even you must know that they were truthful then,"

He narrows his eyes. The Justice of the Peace, who had, up until that point, been scratching the "Ph" of his name onto the stand with the fine point of his quill, finally looked up.

"You don't mean to say they don't know about magic?"

"That's impossible," Bou says, though his eyes are downcast, seemingly lost in the memory of their conversation.

"Perhaps we have become too dependent on the academics. The sciences," Monsieur Diacre says. "That we forget the power of miracle."

"You are sure, then- that this person- this stranger- has no magic?"

"None whatsoever?" the Justice of Peace echoes.

Monsieur Diacre gives them both a hard stare. "Monsieur de Neige, you were closest to them. Did anything seem strange as you walked them to my office?"

The boy presses his lips together to make a firm line. "...I did have such an impression,"

"We must consider the reality," he continues, "That is that we have a young person, born and raised without magic, on our campus."

A heavy silence follows. Only the matrons, the professors of Noble Bell College, old and dressed in gray, bell-shaped habits, murmur amongst themselves.

"But I do hope," one whispers, "That we will not keep them."

"I pity the housewardens if they are to be carried to their doors for shelter. I would rather shelter a thief!"

"A sign of bad luck for certain. The greatest calamities! It's no wonder we had such low exam scores last year,"

Bou leans on his elbows against the wood of the stand and grumbles.

"So, what will we do?"

"There are options," the headmaster says. "This very building was once a symbol of hope, a sanctuary for outcasts. I know how our scholars pride themselves on tradition..."

"And the other?" Bou asks, eyes narrowing.

"I am of the opinion," one older, respected professor says. "That it would be better for the scholars of Noble Bell, and the people of Fleur City, if that strange thing were not in our walls."

The room erupts into a frenzy of murmurs, whispers, and hisses. Monsieur Diacre sighs.

"...That is a possibility. I have received offer from Headmaster Crowley of Night Raven College, as he is looking for a new boarder, and would be willing to accommodate a magicless persons. We could-"

"That will not be necessary,"

Despite the obvious unrest, the symphony of whispers, the crackling of the fire, the single voice, the unwavering presence at the large doors of the hall, cold, dignified, carries over the room.

"President Flamme," Bou de Neige says. He is not greeted in return.

"Please thank Monsieur Crowley for the offer, and send him on his way. They will be staying at Noble Bell," the boy says, walking briskly into the room, cutting through the mass of students and staff like a hot blade.

He climbs the steps to the stand and sits between the Vice President and the Justice of the Peace. Both stare at him as if they were looking at a ghost.

"On what grounds, Monsieur Flamme?" the headmaster asks. A few heads nod in agreement.

"By our rules," he says. "If the Bell of Solace has chosen them, then they are ours."

For the first time, Bou seems flustered, stumbling over his words and making a spectacle of himself.

"But- well, yes, that is the rule, but- you must consider- there will always be exceptions! They made trouble at orientation, they ran away with Gregoire, and that's not even mentioning- no magic! How can they be expected to study at this college with no magic?"

"Compose yourself, Vice President," Flamme says sternly, folding his hands in front of himself on the table. "Noble Bell has seen them fit for our academy. There are greater powers at work here.

And who knows? Our Bell works in mysterious ways. Some day, they may be of great use to us."

"You are suggesting we enroll them as a student, then?"

The council waits with baited breath. After an amount of suspense, he nods.

"I am. Shall we vote?"

Chapter Two

You jolt awake to the sound of hard knocking on the door.

The makeshift home Pierrot had brought you to the evening prior looked quite different in the light of morning. You could now make out the interior:

On all sides, you are, once again, surrounded by stone walls. On one, the door, large and heavy. Above you, the ceiling is high, vaulted, and tiled.

Everything is thick with grime and dust.

On either side of you are what appear to be two large stone benches, engraved with arches, men in robes, and writing in a language you don't understand. Atop these benches are a number of things: papers, quills, bundles of clothing, a block of moldy cheese, and many, many books, piled and shelved as if this small place, whatever it was when Pierrot found it, had been baptized a library.

The boy himself, across the straw-covered floor, is just now waking, bleary-eyed and confused.

"Who is it?" asks Pierrot.

A low, annoyed voice comes from the other side of the stone door.

"Housewarden and Vice President de Neige. I've come on official council duty,"

The color drains from Pierrot's face. "Yes, just a moment!"

"Pierrot?" you ask, following him as he scrambles to his feet.

"You must speak to him first, I'll be out in a moment!" he ushers you to the heavy door, drags it open, and then closes it behind you with the unpleasant scrape of stone on stone.

The morning on the field is crisp and chilled, somehow much colder than the little stone room. Bou de Neige is standing in front of you, his arms crossed, an unpleasant scowl on his lips.

"Is he hiding?"

"He said he would be out in a moment,"

"Very well," Bou says. "I suppose we may as well start without him. I've come to prepare you for your classes."

You blink. "...My... classes..."

He scowls again. "Yes, and don't look so dumb. A student of Noble Bell ought to conduct themselves with the poise of the Righteous Judge himself. The council and staff held a vote last night. Despite your obvious lack of abilities, the Bell of Solace has chosen you for Noble Bell College, and thus, you will be permitted to study with us for the foreseeable future. Understood?"

You nod. He seems... unhappy, you think. Or perhaps he's always like that...

"Good," Bou crosses his arms. "You should consider yourself quite lucky. You have powerful allies on your side."

A loud, obtrusive crashing, and a high scream come from inside the little building. The stone door suddenly cries open again, and out comes Pierrot, now dressed in a black and white uniform, similar to de Neige's, except with pants rather than a frock. His hat is lopsided. Bou stares at him with clear disdain.

"This concerns you, as well Gregoire," de Neige says, hands on his hips.

"Me?"

"Wipe that stupid look off your face," he scowls. "Now, listen. You,"

de Neige points at your chest. "...Are useless in the practice of magic. Correct?"

You nod.

"And you-" he points at Pierrot. "Have lost your scholarship, your dorm accommodations, and your respect. You buffoon."

Pierrot blushes and sticks his hands in his pockets, as if feeling their emptiness. One has a finger-sized hole you can see his pinky wiggling out of.

"The council has come up with a solution that would be beneficial to the both of you. As an act of charity, the expenses of the new scholar have been covered by the college. That includes your books, uniforms, and meals. This does not change the fact that you at a clear academic disadvantage; magicless.

Here is the proposition: you and Gregoire, from the moment you accept, will count for one student. You will share your school materials, meals, and clothing provided by your scholarship, you will study together, take the same classes, and in return, he will perform the necessary magic for both of you."

You and Pierrot share a glance.

Bou sighs. "I, personally, would have never come up with such a ridiculous idea, but... unfortunately... your old tutor seems to have faith in you still, Gregoire,"

Pierrot's face goes pale. "You mean-"

"Either that," de Neige interrupts. "Or he simply thinks you are too weak-willed and incompetent to take advantage of them. I expect your answer before the first bell."

He turns on his heels, long, dark hair whipping behind him, and disappears into the grove, on a dirty cobblestone path back to the school.

"...Well?" a voice says from beneath you. You jump, and look down to see the goat, Hugo. Talking. You're still getting used to that...

"Where have you b... never mind," you say. "What do you think, P- Pierrot?"

You look back around to see the gentleman on his knees in front of you, his hands clasped as if in prayer. He's giving you terrible puppydog eyes.

"Please, please, please, this could be my only opportunity! I have nothing else! My studies- Noble Bell is everything!"

You grimace. "...I don't know. I just met you."

For a moment, he almost looks... taken aback, as if he found it strange of you to consider him, of all people, a suspicious character.

His voice drops, and he answers carefully.

"...I swear to you, by my quill, by my hopes of success, not to even approach you without your permission and consent, but, for the Judge's sake, give me a meal plan!"

Hugo bursts out into bleating laughter, and even you smile.

"...Alright," you say. "Let's go give him an answer, then."

Chapter Three

The dining hall, eerily void of living bodies at this early hour, is a thin, and humble building reaching towards the edge of the campus.

Hidden by the monotonous stone walls of the school, it is rather indistinct, the only remarkable thing being that it is held between courtyards on both sides, making it a sort of bridge between one row of buildings and the other, not unlike the stone bridges that hold the embrace between the island and the city.

This modest, almost dull exterior is deceptive, though, as appearances so often are. Once inside the hall, one is met with the magnificent vaulted ceilings, painted dark with stars, held high by the thinnest of thin, delicate arches on the walls, themselves sheltering bodies of stained glass in every color the eye can perceive. Warmed by candlelight and the fire crackling at one end of the magnificent hall, it is nothing short of... well, magic.

The body, no matter how exquisite, dull, or deformed, is nothing without the matter of the soul.

You tilt your head. In a sad sort of way, the feeling reminds you of your straw bed. Dirty, but warmer than the harsh morning outside.

"What did the building used to be?"

"Hm?"

Pierrot hums, smiling as if he had not heard you, preoccupied with piling his plate. You had counted sixteen strips of bacon so far. At this rate, he would build a tower high enough to touch the painted stars on the ceiling.

"Where you sleep. Your room. It's not a dorm, is it?" you ask, following behind, setting a fruit or two on his plate when the opportunity presents itself.

"More oranges," Hugo demands from beneath you. You concede.

Pierrot finishes off his mountain of breakfast with a few slices of bread, and then leads you off to a far corner of the magnificent dining hall.

"Oh, no. A mausoleum,"

"A what?"

"Don't worry, it's empty," he says. "...I think. I've never checked. I recall reading that the bodies from the old cemetery had been moved."

"Cemetery?"

"Fleur City is full of them," Hugo says. "I've been to my fair share. People just leave flowers all over 'em. A free meal is a free meal, right?"

Pierrot nods in agreement, though he doesn't really seem to be listening. You grimace.

"Yes. The field is covered in tombstones. They're quite pretty," he says. "But the bodies were reburied under the tiles in Noble Bell a long time ago."

Each thing they add seems to be more concerning than the last.

Hugo bleats. "You're gonna have to get used to the cadavers, y'know. This place is old, and full of 'em... and their parts,"

"Yuck,"

"Nonsense," Pierrot says. "There is beauty and life in everything, even death itself. Such is the danse macabre."

You and Hugo share a look. What did he say he was, again...?

"Do you think he came out like that, or was he taught?"

"Rude," Pierrot mumbles. "But one might say it runs in my family."

He offers you a slice of bread, and you decline. The headache you'd been fighting off since first light is making you nauseous.

"Tell us about your family," anything to distract yourself now.

Pierrot smiles, his features warming like the sun on a winter day. He always seems quite pleased to talk about himself.

"I'm afraid it's nothing interesting. My father is a notary, and I have five brothers, though most are older than I. The closest in age, a year younger, is at another arcane academy. Alas, I was disowned, and haven't spoken to them in some time,"

"Unsurprising," Hugo mutters. He snags the slice of bread that would have been yours off the plate, between his teeth, and returns to lying under the table.

You lean into your elbow. "Why were you disowned?"

"By my passion," he smiles. "See, I tried to be a guard, but wasn't brave enough. I became a religious man, but was not devout enough, and couldn't drink enough, anyway. I tried carpentry, but wasn't strong enough. At last, I realized I was good at nothing- therefore, I became a writer."

"And your family didn't approve?"

"Not quite. But then I was here," Pierrot becomes quiet, his eyes turned up at the colored windows of the hall with a sort of holy reverence.

"...And the rest is history."

You blink. Disowned by his family, stripped of his scholarship and thrown out of his own dorm by his housewarden?

He's resilient, at least. You'll give him that.

"And your scholarship?"

"Bah, that was nothing. I simply... printed a pamphlet on free thought that the school officials did not care for,"

"Your dorm?"

"I annoyed the housewarden,"

This guy can't catch a break. No wonder he was so desperate for your help.

"Who's the housewarden?" you ask, watching him absent-mindedly scratch beneath his cap.

"Of L'Universite? You've already met him. He is the one who came to see us this morning, Bou de Neige,"

You hum. Of course... Perhaps he is always that unhappy, then.

"I don't miss him. I kept to myself at L'Universite. The students were... unpleasant," Pierrot shudders, as if taken by some unfelt chill, and you raise an eyebrow.

He goes on without question. "You'd assume, with such a name, that the dorm is only for the most exemplary of scholars, but they're unruly. I was almost burnt alive only once, though,"

Huh. "Why is it called that?"

"The three dorms of Noble Bell are based upon the ancient divisions of Fleur City. On one side, the university district- L'Universite- on one, the aristocratic gardens- here, called La Ville- and in the center, the sacred island, which we call The City," he explains, snapping a crisp piece of bacon in half.

"...But the histories of the dorms have little to do with their personalities. They're only to pay homage to the time when Noble Bell was established. Up until Monsieur de Neige, L'Universite had no housewarden, as per tradition. It was overseen by the college itself..."

"Then the kids got too rough, and the administration had had enough of 'em. I heard about that," Hugo's voice comes from under the table.

Pierrot nods. "Now, de Neige has completely turned it around. He punishes anyone who steps out of line,"

This is a strange place, you think for the umpteenth time.

Chapter Four

Fed, sated, and warmed by good conversation, Pierrot leads you through the delicate halls of Noble Bell College with a renewed lust for life in his step.

He goes about, pointing towards windows and great pillars and plaques on the walls and floor, explaining their origins, which came from where, from what year and artist.

You nod along, content to just listen while your mind wandered.

It feels too real to be a dream, but it must be one. In your world, animals don't talk, humans don't cast spells, and schools don't have astrology classes.

Hugo had disappeared again, likely off looking for table scraps. He seemed to have a will of his own. Pierrot hadn't noticed yet.

"And the tile from this courtyard was repurposed from the Place de Grève..."

He talks so much to himself, it almost feels as if you are alone while right beside him. Despite that, and that he's facing away from you, his sunny self pointed toward the tiled courtyard he seems so enthusiastic about, you can't help but feel as if someone is watching you.

That strange, unnerving feeling had been following you since you left the dining hall. No matter how many times you turned over your shoulder, reassuring yourself that it was only your nerves, it lingered.

Every corner or so, another dignified scholar will pass you by, dressed in the same uniform, quiet, poised, looking straight ahead. Once, you walk by someone shrouded in a blue cloak, singing "Thaumarks to spare? Thaumarks to spare?" to whom you apologize for having nothing.

You don't even know what a thaumark is.

Pierrot leads you through yet another courtyard, and the feeling of eyes on your person never leaves.

It's beginning to weigh on you.

"How much longer?"

"Hm?" he finally turns to look at you, and the strange feeling subsides, slipping back into the shadows of the hall.

"Not much. Don't worry, Scriptorium is easy. As long as you pretend to be busy, no one will bother you,"

Chapter Five

Pierrot could not have given a truer description.

Though, he could have at least warned you about the boredom.

The melodious sound of forty quills on paper echoes off the stone walls and tiled floors. There is no talking, no eating, no foot-tapping, no whispers. The faint sound of the city, as close as it is, feels distant from here.

The parchment before you is as empty as it was at the beginning of class, and the book you'd been provided is on the very same page. The student in front of you has filled two pages already, delicately copying the contents of the book onto the parchment.

Pierrot, sitting beside you, seems to be writing something of his own. At least he seems entertained...

Then, all at once, everyone begins gathering their quills and ink, standing from their seats without a word. Pierrot jolts, shuffling around his things to cover his pages of writing as the other students pass him by.

Though he waits until everyone else is gone before getting up himself, avoiding their prying eyes is useless. Waiting outside the lecture hall is none other than his ex-housewarden himself.

"You. Come with me," Bou says, sharp, crimson eyes boring into you. "We have some things to discuss."

You share a glance with Pierrot. He looks sympathetic, waving you goodbye as de Neige leads you in the other direction.

"I trust you enjoyed Scriptorium?" he doesn't look at you when he speaks.

"Oh- um, yes,"

"Good. Copying manuscripts is an honored tradition of Noble Bell," he says.

"Until the invention of the printing press, all books were made by hand. Though the press made the process fast and inexpensive, the beauty of manuscripts remains unmatched."

You look at him. "You seem to have a lot of traditions,"

He returns your look with a glare. "We are a proud school. It would do you well to adopt a similar attitude. And not to let the idealistic drivel of that fool get to you,"

By "that fool", you assume he means Pierrot. That boy keeps getting stranger and stranger...

"What did he do, anyway?"

de Neige mumbles "heresy", and then clears his throat. "Nothing of your concern. Now, hurry up. You're dawdling,"

Chapter Six

As you pass through the halls of Noble Bell, you think of how easy one could get lost in a place like this.

It's almost labyrinthine. It seems as if every turn leads to another lecture hall, another crypt, another library...

"You should consider yourself fortunate," de Neige says. He's been going on about Noble Bell for some time.

"Of all the arcane academies, Noble Bell College's curriculum has the least practical magic."

"Right," you mutter, following him up another narrow flight of stairs.

"And despite that," he says, "You are already being coddled. The headmaster is... soft. Which brings us to the purpose of my visit."

Bou stops in front of a narrow wooden door and turns in a swift movement to face you. "Follow me," he says.

He takes something out of the depths of his pocket and slots it into the heavy, iron-bound wooden door, then pushes it open as if it were a silk curtain.

You follow him up another flight of stairs, and into a darkened room. The only light, cold and gray, comes from a handful of flower-shaped windows, whose glow illuminates the piles of books and dusty furniture cluttering the small room. Another staircase at the far end leads further into the unknown.

Your eyes are drawn to the window closest to yourself, and you peer out over the island, studying the city, its shape, its color, the curve of its river. You could spend your life up here, alone, comforted only by stone and the dim, foggy noon outside.

Bou hums, drawing your attention back to the present moment. He seems familiar with the room, walking about it and dusting its worn furniture with the sleeve of his uniform.

"Here is the north bell tower. You will be staying here from now on,"

Your eyes widen. "But..."

"Careful. It would be unwise to reject such a generous offer," Bou says, refusing to face you. "The bell towers are spacious, quiet, and warm. Winters are quite cold here."

"But Pierrot?"

Finally, you can see the crimson of his eyes, as he turns over his shoulder to glare at you.

"The student council thinks it improper for you to be living alone with Gregoire. He will stay in La Tombe,"

"But-"

"The key," Bou says, ignoring your protests. He takes something cold out of his pocket and places it in your hand. His skin is almost as chilled as the metal.

"I'll see to it that your mail is forwarded here,"

He turns and leaves you in the room, the rough, cold key still cradled in your open palm. You scoff. What mail?

No one knows you. And no one you know knows where you are.

You don't belong. You're an outcast here.

Your fingers tighten around the key. The least you can do is tell Pierrot. You don't want him to worry when you don't come back tonight, after all.

Finally finding some semblance of purpose, you take long, confident steps back the way you came.

Down the narrow wooden stairs, out the left door, down the stone ones, through this passage, this hallway, this turn, then this, and then...

...No. You don't recognize this hallway. It's darker, and the ceiling is lower. You must have gone too far down.

You take a breath. Don't worry. You'll just retrace your steps.

It isn't over. You've been telling yourself that all day. This is not where it ends. You'll find a way out of this.

All of this.

And then, you're no longer alone.

Though there is no noise, no light, no voice that would indicate a human presence, you are suddenly quite aware that there's someone behind you, watching you from the way you came.

All the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you stay in place. If you are to turn now, will you see someone- or something- standing behind you? A pair of eyes watching you from the doorway you'd just ducked under?

Or, worse- will you see nothing at all?

You decide you don't want to find out either way.

You keep going. Into the dark of the hall, over another threshold and another, around the corner. At some lengths, the feeling seems to subside, giving you a moment's worth of peace, and then it returns.

The halls are getting narrower. You have an inexplicable feeling that you are no longer in the school, but somewhere much deeper, much older, primeval.

The scuff of shoe against stone, which most certainly did not come from your own feet, makes you go cold.

"Who's there?" you shout.

The only response in your own echo.

"Come out! Stop following me! Leave me alone!"

The words come tumbling out without much thought. You can feel yourself slipping into a panic.

Thoughts chase each other through your mind, and then suspicions and paranoia poison those thoughts. You must ask yourself now, what is this? What's there, in the dark, just out of sight?

And your mind answers for you: it is a monster.

There is a monster in Noble Bell College, and it wants you.

"Leave me be!" you yell at nothing. You're starting to get desperate.

Nothing happens. Then, all at once, a light comes from ahead of you, not behind, and someone shouts:

"Who's there?"

You turn your back to the dark behind you in a frenzy, and, finally, the feeling of being watched disappears entirely.

"Me! I'm here!"

Around the corner comes a boy, one you had not seen before. Not tall, but not short, sturdily built, we'll say. He's quite good looking, at least compared to the other students you'd met, with light brown hair spilling out of a short, stubby ponytail, blue eyes, darkened by the black of the hall, and, curiously, the wisps of a beard on his chin. He's quite unlike any of the other students you'd seen so far.

But, the more pressing question-

"Who are you?" he asks it before you can.

You say your name, and his eyes widen. His stern expression turns merry, and he smiles.

"Ah, I know you. The magicless one,"

That's not very reassuring. You grimace.

"...How do you know who-"

"You shouldn't be down here alone, you know. It's not safe. We've had some thieves on campus lately,"

"Thieves?"

"Yes. Or so I've heard," he nods solemnly, and then a strange mood comes about him.

He smirks and puts his hand on his hip, his other at his hilt, purposefully drawing your eyes to what must be a sword. A big one, too, if his smile is any indication.

"But don't worry. I'll protect you. You know, I haven't seen you in person yet. The way everyone's been talking about you, I assumed you were some sort of monster. But you're actually very pretty,"

You give him a weird look. Perhaps you were wrong- of course, he's just as strange as the others. "Um... alright...."

"Ah, where are my manners? Let me escort you back to your room."

"...Right," you say, looking over your shoulder one last time. The boy follows your gaze, and then coughs for your attention.

"Bell tower, yes?"

You look back at him and nod.

"Then let's not waste any time,"

Chapter Seven

Despite his confidence, it takes the boy a full hour to find the right passage out of the tunnels. He gets to the bell tower easy enough, at least.

Something about him tells you he's not from here, either, but you keep the thought to yourself for now.

"Well, here we are," he says, hands on his hips as if he had just accomplished something.

"...Yes. Well, thank you,"

He beams, gives you a courteous bow, locks of hair falling over his face as he does. They turn golden in the sunlight. "It was my honor. And if you need anything else-"

"There you are," someone says from within the bell tower. You recognize the gruff voice, but before you can answer, the heavy wooden door bursts open and Hugo tumbles out.

He chuffs. "We've been worried sick, 'ya know! Pierrot's all over the place! Who's the stiff?"

You turn to the boy, and his smirk sharpens at the acknowledgement. "Um... I don't know, actually. Who are you?"

"My name is Phoenix. It means, ah, sun bird," he chuckles.

You and Hugo exchange a glance, and he stops laughing. "I'm the Justice of the Peace of the student council. I was doing my rounds when I heard you shouting,"

You turn back to Hugo to explain. "I got lost,"

"No kidding!"

"I didn't know you had a kid," Phoenix says, the same sly smile on his lips. You almost scoff.

"Yeah, and he doesn't take kindly to pigs!" Hugo says. "Now, get lost! That's our magicless human!"

As the two go back-and-forth, a little glimmer of white against the dark brown of the floor catches your eye. You kneel, and pull a thin envelope from under the wooden door. It has your name on the back, and a bite taken out of the corner. You roll your eyes at that. Hugo.

The goat sets off, headbutting Phoenix back down the narrow stairs and leaving you alone again. You sit on the floor and open the letter.

Dearly Beloved, it starts,

The King of Truands has reviewed your case and sees you fit to join his Cour des Miracles. All thieves, beggars, vagrants, or otherwise outcasts, welcome.

You turn over the parchment, noting its weight, and stuck to the back is a thin pendant, woven of purple and teal twine, in the shape of a leaf. At its heart, a small, golden cross.

How strange...

You squint at the pendant, and then the letter, which, quite rudely, bursts into flame in your hand.

You drop the fiery letter and it dissolves into ashes on the floor. You huff. Magic...

"And stay out!" Hugo's voice returns from the stairs. For a goat, he certainly has a loud bark.

The white of his small head crowns over the steps, and you stand.

"Hugo," you hold out the pendant to him. "Do you know what this is?"

The goat stops and squints, then scoffs. "One 'a those touristy necklaces. They're all over the city, I can't remember what they're for, though. Just that they don't taste good,"

You hum, bringing the pendant back towards yourself. Why would this King of Truands send you a souvenir?

"...Maybe Pierrot will know," you finally say. He seems to know a lot of useless things, after all.

You hurry to the stairs, Hugo trotting behind you. "What's the big deal?"

"I don't know," you say, paying close attention to each step. You don't want to get lost all over again, after all.

"I've had a bad feeling all day. I think this means something."

"Great, a fortune teller," Hugo sighs.

He follows you, anyway.

Chapter Eight

The sun is already setting over the city when you stumble down the steps of Noble Bell.

The sky is streaked with fiery pinks and oranges, making the school look cold and dull by comparison. Even the clouds, red and descending on the wrought iron gates like a bloodied army, turn the stone of the city into a dull, lifeless blue.

You stumble across the sports field and into the grove at the end of the island.

"Slow down!" Hugo gasps.

You don't. But you do stop at La Tombe and pull open its heavy stone door. It's dark inside.

"Pierrot?" you call for him, as if he were hiding behind a book or in a stray shoe.

Nothing.

"Hey, come look at this!"

You abandon the mausoleum and turn to its side, where Hugo is standing over an attached tomb. Its stone lid has been pushed to the ground beside it, and there's light coming from its depths.

"You think he...?" you start, unable to look away from its gaping mouth. Instead of dust and bones, there's a flight of stairs.

"Who else?" Hugo sighs. "He was looking all over for you."

"He must've panicked when the sun started going down," you murmur. "We have to get him."

"What?" Hugo asks, eyes wide. "Are you crazy?"

You take the pendant out of your pocket and hold it against the warm light coming from inside the tomb.

"I just have a feeling," you breathe in slowly, and take your first step into the grave. "Let's go find Pierrot."

[h3lfaerie]

Random: "I'm just saying, Hiccup Haddock wouldn't be muscular."

Me: *cracks knuckles and puts on glasses* Let's do this shit.

---

*AHEM*

Okay, first of all.

Nutrition.

As we all probably know, the more nutrients and the better food you get when you are a child the more fit and taller you will grow as an adult. Usually. Now looking at How To Train Your Dragon, consider that Hiccup was very short and scrawny when Berk was still being attacked by dragons. And then once the dragons stopped attacking and the village suddenly had more food instead of it being stolen all the time, Hiccup went from scrawny and tiny to a WHOPPING SIX FOOT TWO.

And yes, that is his actual height in the last two movies.

And that is largely on relatively little sun and poor nutrients from limited amounts of grains and meats and root vegetables (plus mildew's cabbage).

Training.

Whether you have watched Race To The Edge or not, you know this little shit can fight. Good. You think you get that sort of technique by not spending arduous amounts of time in the sparring ring?

While Hiccup is definitely more strategic in his fighting style as opposed to people like Astrid and Heather (who are both distinctly heavy-handed imo), he is agile as Hel. And highly proficient with a range of weapons (largely leaning towards swordsmanship). One, that takes a lot of practice, two he's doing it with a prosthetic leg. Consider the amount of pain and hindrance that would cause him throughout training. He is literally disabled. He needs to work twice as hard. His pain tolerance alone would be through the roof.

Sparring-wise the constant footwork and quick directional changes would vastly improve his balance and leg strength, while wielding a sword would build his shoulder, arm, and core muscles.

In addition, the need for precise strikes and defensive maneuvers refines hand-eye coordination and grip strength, which would explain why he is such a good shot with things like his shield-crossbow contraption. And also sparring develops cardiovascular endurance due to the rapid movements and bursts of action, in other words - stamina. He's got plenty. He worked for that.

Now, here you may probably think "But his design for the Inferno is hollow. Isn't that because he can't lift a sword?"

NOPE.

That design was entirely afforded to him by Viggo Grimborn in Race to the Edge. It was a strategic decision.

Have you SEEN the prototype of that thing:

Like first of all that is VIOLENT. That is a serrated blade. It's meant to GUT people. (Go on and tell me Hiccup doesn't have anger issues, I dare you.)

Secondly, I'd argue that has more metal than a normal sword.

And thirdly concrete proof of Hiccup's physical strength can be seen in the following moments (I wish I had GIFs, I'm sorry I do not. Those are all moments from RTTE):

Exhibit A:

Knocks Astrid off her feet during sparring.

Exhibit B:

Knocks Savage off his feet while being chased.

Exhibit C:

Catches AND STOPS an axe going for his head held by someone thrice his size.

Exhibit D:

Knocks Snotlout's tooth out with his non-dominant hand.

Excibit E:

KNOCKS TOOTHLESS (A WHOLE DAMN DRAGON) OFF A FUCKING CLIFF BY HIMSELF.

Shall I go on?

Blacksmithing.

Blacksmithing is a highly physical craft that builds strength, endurance, and coordination. Hammering hot metal requires po-wer-ful arm, shoulder, and chest muscles. Lifting and maneuvering heavy materials cannot NOT strengthen your back and stomach if you've been doing it for weeks, let alone years.

Also, the repetitive swinging motion of the hammer builds forearm and grip strength, which is essential for control and precision. And working in the heat of a forge is ... For one, a glorious sweaty bonus, for two, it basically serves as a sauna after an excruciating amount of physical labour. Ever wondered why people go to a sauna after a workout? The heat can help repair muscles that were damaged by exercise and it can reset your thermoregulation thresholds. In other words, hot temperatures feel less severe. And I wonder why HE of all people, would be in need of THAT.

TLDR; Blacksmithing is a FULL-BODY workout that not only builds physical resilience but also sharpens mental focus and discipline.

And Hiccup started doing it as a CHILD.

As a substitute for dragon killing.

And last but not least (in fact probably the most important).

DRAGON RIDING.

Have you ever been on a horse? Have you ever seen equestrians? I'm really grateful to have had the privilege to ride a horse and let me tell you ... The strength and balance that requires is immeasurable.

-> Core strength.

The constant flexing and contracting required to stay balanced in the saddle works your core muscles like there's no tomorrow, including your abs and obliques.

-> Inner thighs and pelvic muscles.

Speaking of maintaining-your-balance-and position-while-riding... it destroys your inner thighs and pelvic muscles. Can confirm you walk like a penguin afterwards. It's grueling.

-> (I'm not gonna include the posture and trunk exterior muscles here because Hiccup rides like a hunch-back, therefore those benefits would not be applicable to him, cause he a lil' gremlin.)

And lastly, staying in that saddle is NOT easy. You need to have built your body in a certain way to keep your seat if you want to move onto galloping (much like a dancer can't go en-pointe until they've strengthened their ankles). Until then, you're stuck with trotting for weeks. And trust me it still leaves you sore.

TLDR; Horse riding can: improve your balance and coordination, increase your flexibility, burn over 400 calories per hour, serve as yet another FULL-BODY workout, and improve your reflexes.

Now change that to dragon riding.

Now change that to riding canonically the fastest, smartest, and rarest of the known species of dragons in this universe?

Just the FACT our boy wasn't done flung off in that Test Drive Scene in HTTYD 1 is a cause for a standing ovation.

In conclusion:

Realistically, Hiccup Haddock wouldn't be a fishbone. HE WOULD NOT BE BULKY EITHER. THAT IS AN ATROCITY.

But considering all that we've listed, if you wanted to consider realistic expectations given his levels of physical activity, nutrition, and his growth spurt in response to that, he would, at the very least, be tall as fuck, and absolutely built.

And as a bonus: Have you seen his parents? The genetics are THERE.

THAT SAID, everyone's allowed to have fun with Hiccup's design! That's just my interpretation. It does not and should not invalidate anyone else's.

I'm well aware that Hiccup Haddock is a huge representation for the disabled community. Particularly those with chronic illness, neurodiveristy and limb difference. So, I'd like to finish this off with: I simply decided to go on a deep-dive, but really it's not that deep. This was just the result of my three-hours-long hyperfixation.

We love all and any renditions of Hiccup Haddock the Third, because is just that lovable.

If you disagree with mine, that is absolutely okay ❤️

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Lover is a Day...

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Softcore

**¡Halloween, tricotrí! ¡Dame chavos, no maní! ¡No te escondas que te vi, en la casa de Pepín!

** 09/20, 2:18 p.m. - Gege, when I fucking catch you... there are no spoilers in this episode btw

**09/20, 3:18 p.m. - I hope you're bullet proof, because once you make the parallels, this bout to h u r t

...

Yaga had a knack for playing the role of a silent observer, that is, when he wasn't giving your group an earful (specifically your lot) for indulging in the most ludicrous antics right in his classroom.

I swear I wrote about the carvings in a previous episode but idk which and on whose desk but it is what it is

Who could forget the time he went ballistic because you lot thought it'd be genius to carve your names into the wooden surface of your desk?

(Side Note: You were the one behind that plan, with Gojo egging on Suguru to join in. Suguru had been adamant on not doing it, but funnily enough, he was the first to carve his name on the wood.)

(Add-On: Ieiri was the one who had the blade, a simple scalpel she always seemed to have on hand. Strangely, she carried it with her wherever she went. When boredom struck, she'd use it to carefully trim the ends of her hair.)

Honestly, for someone who had a strong distaste for vandalism, Yaga surprisingly couldn't find it in his heart to sand those carvings away.

(Side Note: While tidying up one of the campus storage rooms, Maki stumbled upon your desk from your first year. It had been concealed beneath layers of dust and a hint of mildew. Curiosity piqued, she couldn't resist taking a closer look, and there, amidst the neglect, she discovered two unfamiliar names, etched alongside Gojo's. She never mentioned it to anyone, but the curiosity gnawed at her. Still, she knew better than to pry into the Six-Eye user's business.)

Yaga swore he didn't play favorites, but if you pressed him, he might just confess to having a soft spot for either you or Ieiri (although, to be honest, it leaned more toward you, especially since you never missed a Friday for knitting lessons). When it came to Ieiri, well, their interactions were usually filled with her nonchalant and uncaring attitude, making it a bit tough for Yaga to really bond with her.

Yaga, as the implications suggest, regarded you as kin, perhaps even more dearly than blood. This sentiment deepened upon discovering the harrowing circumstances of your arrival, the cruel treatment you endured at the hands of the elders—treatment he loathed to the core. Yet, despite this fierce indignation, he was trapped in a web of helplessness. He lacked the political clout and cursed energy prowess to challenge the elders, not for now, at least.

So, all he could do was try to make your time at Jujutsu High a bit more bearable. And let me tell you, that wasn't easy when you had to deal with an insufferable tampon and that crafty schemer.

However

With you around, Yaga felt a certain calmness settling among your trio. It seemed his earlier assumptions about the two boys were spot on.

Gojo, usually the master of comical antics, seemed to don a more serious demeanor when you or Suguru were around. Gone was the need to perform, as you often referred to it during your knitting lessons.

(Side Note: Your theory was that Gojo's act served two purposes. Firstly, it was his way of appearing more human than the god-like entity everyone saw him as. Secondly, you thought it was his subconscious attempt to relate to humans. Gojo had always been seen as incredibly arrogant, having lived a life where he was hailed as a god. But even gods, you mused, might grow tired of their divine status. Perhaps, occasionally, they wished to experience life from the perspective of an ordinary "ant.")

(Add-On: You shared this theory with Yaga during your 24th knitting lesson. By that point, you had grown comfortable enough to openly share your thoughts with him. You tended to be more talkative, showing a vulnerability that made Yaga want to protect you like the child you still were.)

Suguru projected an image of calm and composure, but Yaga could discern the undercurrent of anxiety beneath the surface. His leg would bounce with the weight of silent worries, and his eyes would dart from clock to board, back to the clock, to you and Gojo, and finally outside. It was a restless ritual, but the moment either Gojo or you uttered a word, whether directed at him or not, his demeanor would soften. His leg would cease its nervous dance, his shoulders relaxed, and the lines around his eyes would ease.

Ieiri, on the other hand, remained something of an enigma. She often appeared as a two-dimensional character, lacking clear purpose or direction. Her nonchalant, carefree attitude occasionally irked Yaga. However, he couldn't help but notice the subtle looks she cast your way. The faint smile that tugged at her lips when you playfully insulted Gojo for the simplest of actions. Her golden-brown eyes, fixed on the faint glow of your own eyes whenever you practiced your cursed technique in the training fields; it seemed she could hardly tear her gaze away from you.

Love could be so wicked at times

Especially in the Jujutsu world

As a teacher, Yaga was an astute observer. It was his duty to decipher each of your unique behaviors, allowing him to tailor his teaching methods to suit your individual needs. But that also meant, that he'd be forced to watch both your highs and your downs.

Gojo's smile, once a radiant beacon, gradually dimmed as your interactions increasingly revolved around Suguru. In contrast, Suguru seemed to lean on you for various things ---. he always kept a slight distance, just five steps behind, the once-prominent dark bags beneath his eyes now softened. It was as though his very gaze held you in existence, fearing that breaking eye contact might make you fade away.

You, on the other hand, avoided meeting Gojo's eyes, even refraining from playfully snatching his glasses, all to evade his probing scrutiny. A profound guilt welled within, but you maintained a cheerful façade when you looked up at the tall boy, your eyes closed in a half-smile.

Ieiri trailed behind the trio, her lips gracing a gentle yet melancholic smile, her ember eyes holding a distant quality as she observed the three of you. A flush colored her cheeks when you teased her with a sly grin, the playful gesture diverting her attention from any pressing questions.

He observed it all, sometimes wishing he could turn a blind eye to the subtle shifts in your group's dynamics. There were moments when he yearned for the courage to confront his students, but he pondered whether that would truly be the wisest course of action.

But dwelling on such thoughts had to wait, for now, he charged headlong into a horde of high-grade curses. Halloween, in his personal opinion, was among the most dreaded days of the year.

The streets came alive with a riot of Halloween decorations. Every lamppost was adorned with eerie cobwebs, and pumpkins with wicked grins lined the sidewalks. People roamed about, their faces concealed behind an assortment of masks and whimsical costumes, some posing for pictures while others sought to startle unsuspecting passersby with their ghoulish get-ups.

Above, the muffled thump of music from nearby nightclubs resonated through the air, intermingling with the boisterous chatter and sporadic shrieks of delight from the revelers below. The city had transformed into a carnival of the supernatural --- he despised it.

In an ironic twist, it felt like a taunt. Halloween, a night of heightened fear, saw curses rise to a crescendo of malevolence. These were no ordinary phantoms; they were vicious, craving blood and terror. Yet, the unassuming non-sorcerer folk continued to revel, blissfully ignorant of the holiday's perilous essence.

It stood as a paradox, a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made by his colleagues and students. Their valor had shielded these unsuspecting celebrants from the brink of a nightmarish fate.

The rational corner of his mind comprehended that they couldn't be blamed for their ignorance. This veil of secrecy was a necessity; envision the chaos if the ordinary populace were to uncover the truth. The mere panic could breathe fresh vitality into curses, a catastrophe waiting to unfold.

Yet, the acrid part, the facet he labored diligently to conceal, was far from understanding. It harbored a bitterness, an ever-present sting. Why had his students chosen the path of potential sacrifice for those who appeared indifferent, oblivious even?

Nevertheless, there was something oddly cathartic about exorcising scores of curses, with no discernible bounds to the might of his technique.

Still, a nagging thought persisted in the recesses of his mind, one that refused to be ignored — how were you and the rest of the group faring?

You were meant to be a team, a rare instance where the elders had paired you with Gojo and Suguru. Missions with just the three of you were almost unheard of, and Yaga had always been curious about the reason behind it. But every time he tried to bring it up, usually when he passed you some yarn, you'd get all defensive and tell him to hush before the elders caught wind of his questions.

(Side Note: I'm sure you're all wondering where everyone else is, so here's a quick update. The trio is holding down the fort in Shibuya with Yaga. Nanami and Yu have been dispatched near Kyoto, working alongside the students from Kyoto Jujutsu Tech. Meanwhile, Ieiri is back on campus, safe and sound, mentally preparing herself for the impending chaos when everyone returns, and she has to mend their wounds.)

(Add-On: Ieiri's usual smoke breaks lack the same charm without you there to light them up. It's just not quite the same.)

The memory of those moments still stung.

What exactly were you scared of? Because something must've scared you enough to deny him that piece of information, especially with how close the two of you have gotten.

(Side Note: Yaga was there to see the trio off. Surprisingly, you allowed him to pat your head, a simple but genuine gesture that warmed his heart. A grin threatened to spread across his face, but it was quickly overshadowed by Gojo's playful banter and Suguru's quiet laughter as they teased Yaga about wanting to be a father or something.)

(Add-On: You would never admit it, but you, too, felt the subtle warmth Yaga had alluded to. You watched his soul transition from its usual darkish purple to a fleeting, light orange glow, and it left you with an inexplicable sense of unease.)

Perched atop a towering skyscraper, Yaga allowed himself a stolen moment to survey the world below. In this rare interlude, a semblance of composure washed over him.

Since your arrival, not necessarily your fault alone, but a persistent unease had gnawed at him, weaving dread into the very sinews of his muscles and the calcium ions within his bones.

From this vantage point, he observed, as he always did.

On your side

There was an unsettling aura about a frowning Gojo, a sensation that gnawed at the core of things. It felt out of place, like a discordant note in an otherwise harmonious melody. A stoic facade, Suguru mused, would have been more fitting. Even tears, a rarity that would require an earth-shattering trauma, seemed a lesser evil than the frown that now etched itself upon Gojo's lips.

Was it Suguru's doing? Did his actions somehow bring this perpetual frown to Gojo's face? The questions swirled within him like a tempest, an unceasing storm of uncertainty.

"You know the truth," a voice echoed in the recesses of his mind, resonating with a cold and cutting edge that made him flinch. It was his voice, yet not his own.

He barely had time to complete his internal inquiry when his trajectory carried him toward an impending collision with the wall. That is, it would have if not for the interlocking web of chains, forming an impenetrable barrier that spared him from a potentially incapacitating crash.

Despite the quick save, Suguru swore under his breath as he felt a light pain blooming at his waist.

Nonetheless

Suguru couldn't help but offer a knowing smile as he redirected his gaze skyward. Above him, you soared, gracefully navigating from one chain to the next. The buildings became your towering trees, and the streets transformed into your verdant jungle.

Ugh, comparing you to Tarzan leaves a bad taste on my tongue for some reason

You didn't need words; he instantly grasped the meaning in your gaze. A gentle smile blossomed upon his lips, and he assured, "I'm fine."

With a stiff nod in response, you swiftly redirected your attention to a Grade-1 curse. Your chains sliced through it like needles through fabric, siphoning its cursed energy to unleash a cascade of attacks on surrounding curses.

But where was Gojo? The sound of shattering glass served as his only warning. Shards lightly scored his uniform and skin. Suguru's eyes narrowed in irritation and a hint of anger as he observed Gojo's stoic figure striding through the wreckage, seemingly unfazed by the chaos that surrounded him.

Tiny tears marred Suguru's cheeks as his uniform bore the brunt of the Force, revealing glimpses of skin through the delicate fabric wounds. Strangely, not a solitary drop of blood stained the scene.

He couldn't restrain his frustration, hurling curses at Gojo with palpable anger. "Oi, Satoru! Are you out of your fucking mind? You could've ended me right there!"

In response, Gojo couldn't resist an eye-roll. "Nah, you really wouldn't have."

Suguru's eye twitched at the albino's careless words, spine straight and shoulder stuff as he eyed the man before him. Meanwhile, Gojo looked absolutely bored out of his mind as he nonchalantly cleaned out his ear.

"Fucking bastard." "If you're so irked by me, come get me, asshole "

And so, the pissing match began once again.

Lately, their little 'spats' had escalated into something far more heated. What once was a light-hearted banter and a contest of egos had taken a darker turn about a week ago. The laughter that usually followed their bouts was now replaced by an uncomfortable tension.

And you were fully aware of the reasons behind this shift. But would you intervene? Well, that's still up for debate.

Just as the situation seemed on the verge of boiling over, your phone chimed with a familiar ringtone. A smile grazed your lips as you greeted the caller with a lightness in your voice.

"Everything going well on your end, Kento? Is Yu doing fine?"

As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice a sneaky curse trying to creep up on Gojo. It's tendrils aiming for his rights side. With a casual flick of your wrist, your chains skewered the unwelcome visitor. The abrupt action prompted Gojo to cast an inscrutable look your way, sending a shiver down your spine.

He's still hanging in there, so I guess he's doing alright." In the background, another voice piped up, "Is that who I think it is? Give 'em a shout from me!" You couldn't help but chuckle as Kento let out a melodramatic sigh, "You heard?"

You replied, "Yep. Tell him I said hi back. And pass along the same for Mei-Mei and Utahime."

Kento quipped, "You're pushing your luck."

With a casual flick of your wrist, you dispatched yet another mess of foul goo.

"Why the call?" you asked. "...No reason," came Kento's mysterious reply. You grinned, "Ah, I see."

(Side Note: In the current scene, Yu found himself in a comically dire situation. A curse had him pinned down, and he flailed his arms around, calling out for Mei Mei's assistance. Mei Mei, thoroughly entertained by this display, couldn't help but find Yu's predicament rather endearing. She watched, amused, though she refrained from helping him until Utahime, embroiled in her own battle against two curses, shouted at Mei-Mei to come to Yu's aid.)

(Add-On: Utahime was seriously on edge; this year's Halloween curses were exceptionally gruesome. Just catching sight of them was enough to rattle her nerves. She had half a mind to go say 'fuck it' and haul ass screaming like a little bitch. No judgement here cuz same)

Suddenly, you sensed a stray piece of debris hurtling toward your head. In a swift motion, your chains sprang to life, obliterating it before it could reach you. You shot an exasperated glance at Suguru and Gojo, who seemed engrossed in their peculiar spar—basically, just tossing things at each other.

Your patience snapped, and you hollered at them to cease their antics and refocus on the mission. Before they could react, your chains coiled around them, effectively immobilizing the duo.

Suguru relented with a pout, while Gojo couldn't resist a snarky comment. "Always knew you were kinky."

Your response triggered Kento's voice blasting through the phone in a tirade against Gojo's behavior, which only fueled Gojo's maniacal laughter.

(Side Note: Gojo didn't particularly want to laugh, but it seemed like an obligatory performance at this point.)

With an eye-roll, you shifted your attention back to the call. "We're almost done here, so no worries."

"Alright, stay safe. Don't trust those dumbasses for anything," Kento admonished before ending the call, leaving you quietly chuckling.

The tension was as palpable as ever, making the mission feel like walking on eggshells. You glanced at Gojo and Suguru, both now reluctantly cooperating. What started as a straightforward task had somehow morphed into a convoluted dance of egos.

As you ventured further into the cursed zone, the silence weighed heavily on the trio. Gojo's trademark smirk, usually as constant as the North Star, had transformed into a stern expression, his gaze fixated on the distance. Meanwhile, Suguru's fists were clenched, jaw locked tight.

Shit

Once upon a time, these two had been inseparable, but now it was like watching two tectonic plates slowly drift apart.

As you ventured deeper into the cursed alleyway, the oppressive darkness seemed to swallow you whole. The narrow passageway twisted and turned, like a labyrinth designed by, uh, by ---- oh, fuck it. You don't have time to think about it as you use your technique to identify the more hidden curses.

You cursed under your breath as bits of your clothing became stained by the grime of the walls. Filthy, damp walls pressed in from both sides, making it feel like there was no way out. Absolutely fucking disgusting.

Gojo led the way, his steps echoing off the grimy pavement as he followed the faint trail of minor curses. Suguru trailed behind, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

The darkness was thick, and the tension among your trio hung heavy in the air. It felt like a pressure cooker, waiting to explode at any moment. The distant cries of curses only added to the eerie fucked up atmosphere.

Gojo moved with an effortless grace, his sapphire eyes ablaze with cursed energy as he obliterated curses left and right. His movements were fluid, almost elegant, as he dispatched each threat with swift precision.

On the other hand, Suguru was growing increasingly agitated. He watched the curses he could've consumed vanish into wisps of nothingness with each sweep of Gojo's hand. His frustration simmered beneath his skin, boiling over into anger.

"Dammit, Satoru," Suguru glared, voice laced with annoyance. "I could've used some of those."

Gojo barely spared him a glance, his focus unwavering. "Too bad, so sad. You've got plenty in your arsenal already, Suguru. Don't get greedy."

Cue that angry mark thing on Suguru's forehead

You couldn't help but sigh internally, "I swear --- it's like a fucking k-drama breakup or something. Unbelievable."

But this was your fault

No, this is just things that have been simmering for a while finally boiling over.

And just what exactly prompted this...'simmering of feelings'?

...check your fucking tone and fix that attitude of yours.

Or what? You'll kill me. Please, I'd like to see you try.

Fuck. You.

Also...

What?

Watch out, hehe.

(Side Note: When stressed, you curse. A lot. )

Suddenly, an especially powerful curse materialized, catching you off guard. It lunged at you, the impact sending you crashing into the nearby shop's window. The glass shattered like your composure, and blood painted the scene.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you were hurled through the air and into the glass window. The shards of glass seemed to glisten in a surreal dance of glimmers and reflections, and for a brief moment, the shattered glass created a fragmented tapestry of the scene, as if you were glimpsing reality through a shattered mirror.

Blue rose petals descended gracefully, an ethereal contrast to the crimson stains on your battered form. They tumbled from an unseen sky, their delicate dance casting an otherworldly beauty over the grim tableau.

Upon collision with the glass, it shattered into a symphony of discordant notes, the cacophony ringing in your ears. The shards dug into your flesh, tearing at your clothes, and for a suspended moment, the world seemed crystallized in chaos.

Lying there, gasping for air and stinging with pain, you took in the surreal sight of the blue rose petals falling around you. In the corners of your quickly fading vision, you saw flower pots and greenery --- it felt like you were back in Yu's dorm room. Safe and warm.

Oh, it's a flower shop.

First off, why the fuck is there a flower shop at the end of some random creepy ass alleyway?

Second off, why was it so quiet?

The eerie silence settled like a heavy fog, muffling the once-chaotic sounds of curses. You furrowed your brow, puzzled by their sudden disappearance. Where had they—

In a sudden and almost comically abrupt fashion, the souls of Suguru and Gojo popped into your field of vision. It was as if they had teleported into view, their ghostly forms shimmering with an otherworldly light.

You couldn't help but blink in surprise, their appearance catching you off guard amidst the strange stillness of the cursed zone.

"Fucking hell," you swore under your breath as you felt one of the two gently pick up your head before leveling it on a soft warm --- thighs. Bony ones at that so it had to be Gojo.

(Side Note: You couldn't help but instinctively reach out to palm the limb, the blood seeping from your scraped hands staining Gojo's pants.)

Suguru dropped to his knees beside you, his face etched with deep concern, his eyes darting anxiously over your wounds. He hovered his hands over the injuries, torn between wanting to help and the uncertainty of what to do next. The injuries weren't life-threatening, but they were far from insignificant.

"Hey, are you okay?" Suguru's voice quivered with genuine worry as he assessed the damage. "Damn it, you're bleeding..." Panic flickered across his features as he glanced at the blood, his usually composed demeanor giving way to concern.

His soul was crying

Gojo remained uncharacteristically silent, his lips parting only to remove his glasses. His gaze locked onto your injured face, and in that fleeting moment when your eyes met, it was a meeting of pearlescent and iridescent. The connection would've been near-perfect if it weren't for...

Before the thought could fully form, Gojo finally broke his silence. His expression turned grave, and he spoke in a low, almost breathless tone, "Use your chains on me."

You couldn't help but snort with amusement, even as a wince of pain crossed your face. "Now, who's the kinky one," you quipped, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

If you weren't injured, Gojo might have smacked the shit out if you, but in this situation, he opted for a sharp pinch on your arm until you acquiesced.

Drawing cursed energy from people was always a unique experience, but what intrigued you even more was the distinctiveness of each person's energy.

Suguru's had a bittersweet undertone, much like his tea, while Gojo's... Well, perhaps it was his cursed technique, but it felt almost exhilarating. Sweet, like his insatiable sweet tooth, and undeniably stimulating.

Your blood raced with adrenaline, and you couldn't help but savor the taste of Gojo's energy. It was strangely addictive, and you found yourself wanting more, even as you noticed the tremble in his soul.

Separating your chains from their souls, a shiver of relief coursed through your body as most of your injuries miraculously began to heal. With a soft hum of gratitude, you muttered a quiet thank you under your breath. With Suguru and Gojo's assistance, you managed to sit up on the pile of debris.

"Are you guys okay?" you inquired, concern lacing your words.

Suguru, still clearly shaken by the events, snapped, "You almost die, and you ask US if we're okay?" He couldn't hide his worry, despite his gruff tone.

You let out a playful pout as you leaned into the warmth of Gojo's hands, tilting your head back like a whiny child. "Well, fuck you too, Suguru." "Don't you curse at me, you little-"

As you and Suguru continued your bickering, Gojo calmly brought you closer, positioning you against his body and enveloping your waist with his arms. His chin rested on your shoulder, and he let out a quiet exhale that felt like a sigh of relief.

(Side Note: The exhale was so strong that it lightly pulled on your moon earring. The very one Gojo gifted you.)

You froze at the unexpected closeness, momentarily taken aback, while Suguru observed in silence, a pensive expression clouding his face.

One beat

"You two really pissed me off, ya know?" Gojo's words carried an unusual weight, and both you and Suguru had never heard him sound so sullen. It wasn't meekness; Gojo could never be meek or weak, but his voice seemed, in that moment, small.

Though you couldn't see his face, you could sense the tremor in his voice, and it sent a chill down your spine.

Two beats

Both Suguru and you dared not to speak as Gojo continued to talk, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly as he spoke. It was as if he had to physically restrain himself from retreating into his usual emotional barriers.

"You disappear for a few days, and suddenly, you're both different. And then, it's like I don't even exist. You made me feel..."

Three beats

"Unwanted? Jealous? Neglected?" You interjected softly, your voice tinged with understanding. Gojo pinched your side, causing you to wince, and earning a sharp glare from Suguru. "Don't fucking psychoanalyze me."

"Sorry," you murmured, sensing the tension in his voice.

Four beats

Gojo tightened his hold on you, his voice muffled against your shoulder, "I didn't know what to do. I hate not knowing what to do."

Suguru leaned against the wall, seemingly lost in thought. "Typical Satoru. Always the 'strongest' but falls apart when emotions come into play." You clenched your jaw.

Five beats

"Suguru. Not now." You swore you saw a flicker of a satisfied smirk on the albino's face as you scolded said male. "Gojo, stop smirking." Now it was Suguru's turn to smirk.

(Side Note: Gojo was so ridiculously satisfied.)

From the corner of your eye, you spotted something amidst the rubble. Leaning over to pick it up, a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you realized it was a nondescript bottle of sake.

Nothing too distinctive, just an ordinary bottle of sake.

Balancing it in your hand, you inhaled the aroma as you uncorked it. A soft sigh escaped, and a small smile graced your face.

As you took a cautious sip from the bottle, you were pleasantly surprised by its smooth and mellow flavor. The warmth of the sake spread through you --- a nice contrast to the cold air of Japan.

"Are you serious right now?" Suguru's voice resonated through the eerie silence of the ravaged flower shop. With a shrug, you tossed the bottle to Gojo.

Gojo grimaced, "You're seriously gross right now. Who knows where that's been?"

You rolled your eyes at his comment, "Well, either drink it and unwind or ditch it to relieve some stress."

He stared down at you for a good three minutes, his expression still contorted, before finally grunting and taking a sip. The effect was nearly instantaneous as the young Six-Eye User's tense shoulders relaxed.

Six beats

The severity in his gaze softened as he turned his attention to Suguru, who wore a similarly displeased expression.

With the bottle held in his large hands, Gojo seemed poised to throw it at the raven-haired man, but at the eleventh hour, he offered it instead. Their fingers brushed for a fleeting heartbeat as Suguru savored a modest sip.

A sigh escaped his lips as he let the alcohol slide down his throat, his shoulders dropping in a similar manner like Gojo as you silently stayed within the albino's arms.

A hush blossomed among the three of you, your gazes fixed on various points, as if deliberately avoiding eye contact with each other.

Yet, even in that unspoken silence, it seemed as if words were superfluous. Simply being present in that moment, basking in each other's auras and existence, sufficed to transmit everyone's sentiments.

Amidst the remnants of the flower shop, with broken petals strewn about like the memories of a fading dream, a subtle breeze whispered its way through the shattered windows, carrying the scent of blossoms that once danced in vibrant hues. And a soft, distant chirping of birds carried through the broken windows --- ah, it was morning already.

Suguru, his grip on the sake bottle loosening, glanced around at the desolation surrounding you. His eyes, once filled with annoyance, now held a touch of melancholy.

Suguru's gaze finally shifted, meeting Gojo's eyes for the briefest of moments. A flicker of understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of...something.

As if by an unspoken agreement, Gojo lifted the bottle once more, offering it to Suguru. With a nod of appreciation, Suguru accepted, their bond acknowledged in this simple act.

You couldn't help but make an undignified noise as you tried to reach for the bottle, "Oi! Don't drink it all, I want some too!"

With a playful smirk, Gojo leaned slightly away from Suguru, extending the bottle above you, just out of your reach. "Oh, you want some too?" he teased, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Suguru joined in with a sly grin, "You know, sharing is caring."

You responded with an exasperated sigh, your attempt to grab the bottle foiled by Gojo's playful maneuvering. "Alright, alright, you guys win. Just pass it over here before I start feeling left out." Ironic.

Gojo and Suguru persisted in their playful teasing, much to your chagrin, as you struggled within Gojo's grasp to lower his arm, desperately attempting to reach the bottle he held aloft. Suguru's laughter echoed through the room, while Gojo cackled with the exuberance of a madman.

From his vantage point, Yaga couldn't suppress a chuckle as he witnessed the scene unfold. It warmed his heart to see the tension between the three of you dissipate—perhaps not entirely, but enough that he believed everyone would experience a sense of relief come the next school day.

Seven beats

...

Song Inspo: Ray Laurél - CHARLES JEFFREY

(A/N): Hopefully, one day I'll see TCT on a 'JJK Tumblr fanfic recommendations' TikTok vid --- the moment people recommend this to others on that fucking app, that's when I know I'm doing a good job 💀

Valeria Garza has a chokehold on me rn. Ooo, should I write for CoD? It'd be interesting deciphering their personalities considering the shit load of trauma they all got going on.

09/20 - In the middle of writing this, a kitten sucked into my yard and I have dogs. I had to pry the poor thing out of their mouths (it's alive! Ran off tho). Unfortunately, the kitten did bite me. So I'm not writing this with an injured hand and a prayer that I don't have an infection. 🥹

09/21 - Just as I was finishing up, I received an e-mail from the Head of my Bachelor's Department saying that my current classes were not valid for my degree and that I'd have to re-enroll. I spent a whole 15 minutes bawling my eyes out, crying to mami on the phone before the mother fuckers had the nerve to tell me it was an error and I'm fine.

09/23 - it's like 12am rn and the most horrible thing happened and ugh, I could not stop bawling my eyes out and I was bleeding everywhere. I'm fine now but like damn bro.

Originally:

This episode was supposed to be published on September 20 due to, uh, reasons. (JJK 236 spoilers parallel) However, shit happened and I didn't publish it in time. My bad bros, hoes, and non-binaries bitches.

Originally, I had planned to kick off this episode from Suguru's or someone else's perspective – anyone but Yaga's. But, at the last second, I realized we needed a bit more Yaga content. Plus, it'd be intriguing to delve into his viewpoint regarding the cursed trio's dynamics and all that jazz.

"...gentle yet melancholic smile," was actually supposed to just be a 'gentle small smile.' This is because Ieiri was just happy to be there within the boundaries of your presence. But I changed it because, when written this way, it just confirms that Ieiri knows her status in the group. As in, she doesn't have an actual status.

"...Nah, you really wouldn't have." Was actually, "Oh come on, Suguru. You know I wouldn't go that far."

The plan for this episode was to kick off near a flower shop, but fate had other ideas. It concluded right at a flower shop instead.

"The narrow passageway twisted and turned, like a labyrinth designed by, uh, by ---- oh, fuck it." This was actually supposed to reference the ancient King of Curses but I couldn't figure how to do it, so I genuinely said fuck it.

"Don't fucking psychoanalyze me," was supposed to be, "So you knew yet you did nothing?" This is to imply your avoidance of confrontations. Maybe foreshadowing too.

Originally, you were going to apologize to Gojo for everything but then, as an author, I realized that the cursed trio are a bunch of teenagers put in the riskiest of situations with severe vulnerability problems and communication issues, hence the silence and the avoidance of eye contact.

This switch to Yaga as the main POV in this episode kind of plays with that idea that teachers are always watching their students, even if it doesn't seem like it. It's not just about observing; it's about whether they decide to take action or simply stay on the sidelines.

Ngl, certain characters, in canon, feel rather two-dimensional. Maybe, it's because I haven't really read the manga or finished the anime --- but like yeah. So I like exploring them, giving them depth and stuff like that. Like Yaga, Yu, Ieiri, and others.

Suguru narrowly escaped critical injury thanks to your swift response, an imperceptible wall formed by hundreds of tiny chains that perpetually encircled him, akin to a vigilant guardian.

Though invisible to Suguru's eyes, these chains remained visible to Gojo's discerning gaze. In truth, this visibility was the sole reason Gojo took the actions he did.

Suguru's lack of injuries was all thanks to a secret chain connected to his soul. It channeled cursed energy into him, helping him heal swiftly. The finer details of this ability were still a bit hazy, but that's a tale for another day.

The elders, were deep into an emergency meeting, no doubt wrestling with the current crisis. Or so, one would think.

"And so, the pissing match began once again." After this line, I genuinely had no idea what to write next. So I chose to involve the one character that just feels right to write about.

Kento's call came in the wake of an extremely close call, and he needed something to anchor him back to reality before diving back into his mission. The soothing sound of your voice, coupled with Yu's presence, worked like a balm on his nerves. (But you thought it was because he was worried about you. Which, technically, is true but that's beside the point.)

Episode: Borderline --- "...Keep it vague, just like your pointless existence." Goes hand in hand with, "...Or what? You'll kill me. Please, I'd like to see you try." Was that your own self-deprecating thoughts, or ???

The reason why Suguru's hands hovered was because he was afraid of causing more damage.

It wasn't his energy that made his soul quiver; it was the fear of losing you.

I wanted to have a little fun so I made that what you eat the most is what your cursed energy either feels like or tastes like. 🤷

As for Gojo, his Infinity vanished the moment he saw you crash through the flower shop window. The sheer shock and horror of the scene caused him to unintentionally drop it.

Typically, Gojo's soul is shielded from your sight due to the nature of his Infinity. However, when he released it, you were able to catch a glimpse of his presence, marked by a curious warp-like effect.

"It was strangely addictive, and you found yourself wanting more, even as you noticed the tremble in his soul." Energy vampire much?

The fact that you only ever truly feel safe is when you're in Yu's dorm room surrounded by his plants.

You intentionally left some minor wounds untreated, a small act of consideration for Ieiri. It would give her something to do when she arrived, and you secretly longed to be in her presence again.

"It was his voice, yet not his own." Is a reference to Suguru's creeping depression as well as an indirect reference to Kenjaku.

"...Are you out of your fucking mind?" Is Suguru referencing Gojo's technique and how it fries the brain to a crisp.

"Suguru swore under his breath as he felt a light pain blooming at his waist." and "...it's tendrils aiming for his right side" is a reference.

Note how, even though Gojo always keeps his Infinity on (or almost always) along with the fact that he's a Special Grade sorcerer, you still felt the need to protect his back from the minor curse.

The North Star symbolizes guidance, direction, stability and purpose. And no matter what, it stays in the same place no matter what goes around it.

It's not a glass ceiling, but rather a glass wall. Which can be interpreted in multiple manners. It can be the wall between you and Gojo, despite being able to see each other so clearly, a wall remains. The shattering of it representing your agreement in acknowledging the connection.

Or, it's the slow shattering of the Curses Trio's reality as we near Spring.

Or, it's foreshadowing.

Blue roses signify the unattainable. It's like a longing for something to exist, but it forever eludes your grasp. This is a direct reference to the Jujutsu Kaisen Season 1 Opening where Gojo carries around a bouquet of blue roses.

In this episode, the clash of "Pearlescent vs. Iridescent" gave way to a harmonious fusion of Pearlescent AND Iridescent. This is to reference that an emotional connection has been officially acknowledged. Not made but acknowledged.

"The connection would've been near-perfect if it weren't for..." His being is near-perfect in your eyes because if he had just never been born with Six-Eyes, you'd love his blissful ignorance

Although Suguru might be considered your closest friend (in Gojo's mind at least), it was Gojo you instinctively reached out to. Ironic considering how long you've been trying to emotionally avoid him.

If my memory serves me right, the traditional act of sharing a bottle of sake signifies a union among individuals, and for this particular chapter, it felt more like the forging of a soulful connection, a merging of three souls into one. You could even liken it to a form of matrimony.

The consistent theme remained that open communication was a challenge among the three of you. You rarely delved into meaningful discussions, each holding back in your own way. (Communication may be key, but understanding is the door.)

The heart beats are a reference to another Episode, but I don't remember which. Oops.

Gojo didn't throw the bottle at Suguru because he was genuinely tired of fighting with the bestie --- he just wanted you and Suguru back.

Yaga being the silent observer says A LOT. You just don't realize it.

What was the meeting about?

Were you talking to your continually fracturing mind or someone else?

And what exactly did you mean when you said you saw scenes in the shattered glass?

Drop a comment!

Feel free to donate me a🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

[ladyfromaspookyforest]

Lumax vs Milevn

One thing that I absolutely love about contrasting Lumax and Milevn is that they followed such similar paths up to a point at which they diverge. And that point of divergence is EVERYTHING.

For starters, Lucas and Mike start off as each others' love interests biggest haters. They try to shut El and Max out of the party respectively.

Next, Lucas and Mike are the only ones who treat Max and El with full respect and acceptance right off the bat. They develop a closer bond than the others, Max and El confiding in Lucas in Mike more than they do the others.

This one's obvious...

And then we get into the absolute ridiculousness of season 3. The girls break up with their boyfriends, laugh about it, the boys bemoan. It's all humor. It's the epitome of youth. Teenage drama.

Sidebar: I hated both of these ships when I first watched this show. I could not get over the ick factor I felt watching children kissing. I kept being like EVERYONE STOP! YOU'RE TOO YOUNG FOR THIS! Am I really meant to LIKE this??? IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE ROMANTIC???

*cough* Anyway, that was my first impression. So the fact that I am a hardcore Lumax shipper now really demonstrates just how phenomenally that story was told in season four. Bringing us to the divergence.

Breaking up versus staying together. I'm not even going to talk about El lying to Mike for six months in this post. This is just about the breakup.

Breaking up Max and Lucas for real (as opposed to how she used to break up with him every so often for the fun of it) while simultaneously entering these characters into high school allowed them to evolve separately from one another and confront more adult struggles. Max distances from her friends as a consequence of trauma and Lucas distances in an attempt to fit in. The conversation between Lucas and Mike

shows how much Mike is taking for granted. Lucas's desire to belong is due to his experiences with bullying and we have canonically seen that for Lucas, this was rooted in racism. Maybe he joined the basketball team because he's just good at basketball, but I think it's worth mentioning that he joined a team with at least three other black boys on it. I'm not going to write a whole article about Lucas's struggles with racism here, but my point is that what Lucas went through with Billy probably had some lasting effects on him just like it did on Max.

So both characters struggled with finding out what they wanted and who really mattered in season 4 and ultimately, this led them back to one another.

On the other end, we have Milkdud doing the exact opposite. Lumax is physically near one another but broken up. Mildew is physically apart but still together. They struggled alone and pretended things were the same between them, not allowing themselves the opportunity to reassess.

THIS STEP WAS NECESSARY. Maybe that's just opinion, but they are not the same people in season 4 as they were in season 2, especially since a lot of the trauma of season 3 has forced them to mature quicker than they otherwise would have.

These relationships parallel one another in seasons 1/2 to demonstrate how boy-meets-girl might play out. How a crush can evolve into a friend and into a relationship. Then in season 3, they parallel to show how shallow the relationships BOTH are at this stage. How inconsequential young romance is in the grand scheme of things. And they diverge in season 4 to show us that trying to continue on as though you are still the same people in the same relationship as you were when you were kids is not going to grow your relationship into a healthy and mature one.

Personally I think Mike is gay, but IF HE'S NOT, Mike and El could have strengthened their relationship had they allowed themselves distance from one another. I didn't ship Byler yet when season 4 came out. Had Milelevator been executed differently, I fully believe I could have shipped them. Lumax is proof of that. The fact that I don't is a consequence of the INTENTIONAL differences between the ways these two relationships were written.

[royalsy-queen]

Me: Mike and El work best as friends, Mileven should've stayed platonical, it's clear that them breaking up on good terms and byler being canon is where the whole story is headed

Milwakees: Will's love is unrequited, Mike and El didn't fall in love in six days, the fell in love the moment they saw each other, they have a supernatural bond 💀 Bylers are delusional

Me: *byler proof in hand, backing up sources* care to share your evidence? Is the supernatural romantic bond here with us? Are the delusional takes here with us?

Mildews: You have a brick wall for a brain, I'm going to touch some grass, is byler all you think of?

Me: yes, do you want a link to my byler playlist? also, may I have directions to my delusions? I wanna frame them lol uwu <3 *insert byler memes*

Milkvans: *disconnected*

[noctusfury]

Mildew’s Wives (RoB/HTTYD Theory)

Hello, everyone! Welcome to another HTTYD article! Today we’ll dive into the topic concerning Mildew’s wives, which we see in the first episode of Riders of Berk. And are also mentioned in the 5th episode “In Dragons We Trust”.

Perhaps I’m the only person who is interested in this, or even remembers this since these are just background portraits of his ex-wives. But I can’t help but want to pursue this and figure it out!

If you’re interested in my other Mildew article where I dive into who inherited his farm after his outlawry, click here.

Now we know from what was said from Stoick and Gobber that Mildew was a long-standing dragon slayer with a marvelous reputation back in his younger days when dragon raids were common. As, I assume, his father before him. Interestingly enough, since it feels implied that it was in the more recent decades that Berk sent Mildew far from the village due to his unpleasant personality, it could be assumed that he might’ve been different when he was younger. 

Of course, we don’t know what or when Mildew became “the Very Unpleasant”. That being said, he’s mentioned to be very hideous and even implied to be unhygienic. So that could also be why, as he’s a cabbage farmer, owns a sheep, and doesn’t seem to take a bath at all. He also has a very hairy back, according to Gobber after he treated him.

Funnily enough, his wives also seem to be... equally unpleasant. Naturally, we know very little about his past and what he went through back then, nor about what his wives might’ve been like. (Which is a bit of a shame.) 

Of course, I find it funny that they were as hideous as he was. Though he probably married them as formal alliances with other families during his famous dragon-slaying days. Or maybe he was desperate because nobody else would marry him, due to his unpleasant nature (in many ways). Whoever they were and whatever they were like — or even if they were natives to Berk or outsiders — we’ll never know. It’s up to anyone’s interpretation.

In "In Dragons We Trust", Mildew mentions that he had three wives, who all died at some point, to which he states are “pleasant memories,” suggesting he did not like them despite being married to them. (And it may be assumed that they also didn’t like him just as much.)

Now, of course, we could assume that they died from various things: childbirth, disease, an accident, even dragon attacks. Or perhaps they died from the same thing. We don’t know.

However, there could be a much more... macabre alternative.

Murder.

In the episode “In Dragons We Trust”, we see Mildew grab and use dragon claws and feet to frame the dragons in order to banish them from Berk. He then throws them away to get rid of the evidence, possibly knowing that Hiccup and the Gang would eventually find them and he’d get in trouble for it.

Now, this looks like Nightmare claws and... Zippleback feet? But these seem to be some of his trophies he’s won from back in his younger days as a renowned warrior. 

Now I’m sure you’re curious as to why I brought up the “murder” option. It sounds more like he didn’t do any of that from what he says, as it implies that their deaths happened without him having to do anything. 

But this is a “what-if” scenario. What if he bumped off one or even all three of his ex-wives and used these tools to frame the dragons for having killed them?

Think about it. The fact that he even HAS these to begin with is rather sus. I mean, what would he even need these for, if not for what he did to his wives in the past? The claw thingy makes for a terrible backscratcher, and the dragon feet I can’t see anyone using unless they have some sort of winter-proof function that we don’t know about.

But the fact Mildew has these tools at all is rather sus, like I said previously. Why even have them at all except to having used them to frame dragons before for previous wrongdoings?

Plus, when he came home, he greeted the portraits callously by saying, “I’m back home, ladies!! Eh? What’s that, ya say? Nothing? Perfect!”

After claiming those tools, he says to Fungus, “These have served us well, haven’t they, Fungus?” While he was obviously talking about the incidents with framing the dragons, it’s obvious he had these long before that, which is sus. Again, I highly doubt he uses them as winter boots and a backscratcher, so why else would he have them and why would they have served him well save for using them for murder?

Of course, I don’t know when Mildew was banished to this far-off house and farm plot, but it sounds like it was anywhere between 10-20 years ago. Heck, it could even be even longer, but Gobber said, “Why do you think we sent ya to the other side of the village?” so that kinda implies that it was within 10 or so years. No more than 20. Or maybe it might’ve been only 5 years. We just don’t know. 🤔

Anyway, I’m digressing. Point is that he’s a farmer, so he could’ve lived close to the village, or maybe he was even a resident inside the village, so maybe it might’ve been difficult to stage a murder. However, if he was living NEAR the village, then he might have the opportunity to get rid of his wives during dragon raids. Maybe even burn his own house to drive it home. Or, assuming he was still married (at least to his third and last wife), it would’ve been easy to do it at his isolated farm and especially during a dragon raid.

However, again, it’s probably unlikely, but with Mildew being Mildew, I wouldn’t put it past him. But it could be that he never did that and that those deaths are very natural. But it’s an interesting plausibility.

What do you guys think? Do you think it’s possible?

Thank you very much for reading! And I hope to see you in the next article!

Long Live the Night!

— Noctus Fury

[focusfixated]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

thank you for this! i think my favourite fics i've written are the ones that are basically like. my thesis statement. if you ask me about these characters, i will slide you one of these fics and say: here's my dissertation on the subject. everything you need to know about how i feel is in there.

can't get a life (if my heart's not in it)

libertines rpf | peter/carl | M | 20.9k

When Peter came to London, Carl was waiting for him under the hanging clock in the middle of Waterloo station. It had been romantic, in the way that Peter saw all their meetings as a little romantic – a song in the making, all Terry meets Julie and a sunset over the river. Or: the early days of Peter & Carl's love affair with London - and each other.

note: i wrote this one during my first year moving to london. inhabiting this story with these people and their music helped me settle there. this was also my way of taking every insanely romantic and toxic thing peter and carl did or felt about each other in those early years and weaving it into one point of reference.

on the wings of a nightingale

good omens | aziraphale/crowley | E | 11.1k

Aziraphale liked his body. He liked the shape of it, the way it moved and touched the world, a type of sensory feedback that made him understand the shape and extent of his corporation. Like he wasn’t just an ephemeral vessel. Like he was flesh. Or: Aziraphale gets a tattoo. Crowley is an accessory to this crime against good sense. Everyone’s kinks are very poorly disguised.

note: i think this is the one where i really got to grips with my authorial obsession with bodies, embodiment, sensation as existence. it's probably one of the most personal things i've written, too, in terms of its dissection of touch, and espousing thoughts on faith as tangible feeling vs abstract thought. this is the aziraphale that exists in everything else i've written in this fandom.

i hope i find my home

it chapter 2 | richie/eddie | E | 53k

The peak of summer is long gone, if it ever came, but the funk of stagnant air still hangs low over the suburban streets. Richie Tozier – sallow-skinned and puffy-eyed, wearing a too-small denim jacket that smells of sweat and mildew – hasn’t slept in several days, and he's trying to remember how he got here in the first place. Or: Coming back to Derry, Richie hadn't expected to live. Eddie hadn’t expected to die. In the aftermath of Neibolt, they’re both confronted by another shot at life.

note: possibly actually my favourite thing i've ever written out of all of these. features this ongoing obsession with bodies, though this is from a more confrontational perspective than the good omens one - there's an element of body horror, a sense of fear and discomfort about the body, and grapples with embodied repression. took me two years to write this one. it was a labour of love and hard work, and a proof of my commitment to getting this story about survival and recovery told.

le temps qu'il faut

disco elysium | harry/kim | T | 5k

Snow blows in from the east. It falls on Martinaise, thickening the frigid air like cornstarch, thick enough to chew on. Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi stands – quiet, watchful, an oddity placed at the centre of a racket – collar turned up against the weather. Or: winter is tough and so is Kim, but a lot can change in ten days.

note: a story where i feel like i got the closest to capturing the mood of the original media. it was such a fucking pleasure to write something that was almost pure atmosphere. felt right that the poetry came out of this cold and battered landscape, and really solidified my interest in capturing environments. (who needs plot when there are buildings and lakes covered in snow).

when we fight about love

our flag means death | multi | E | 41.2k

Bonnet took a dainty sip of rum, then put the mug down with a fussy finality. “Look, I’m not interested in deals and riches and who gets what from who. I want to find Ed, that’s it. You’ll come with us, and you’ll guide us to the Revenge, and when we’re done, you can have my other ship to do with what you like. Sell it, sail away, set it on fire, I don’t care. Do we have an accord?” Bonnet held out a hand. His nails were ragged, and there were blisters on his fingers. Somehow, he still smelled of lavender. With all the recalcitrance of reaching towards an open flame, Izzy shook it. (Or: after brokering an uneasy peace, Izzy Hands, Stede Bonnet and the rest of the Revenge’s depleted crew are thrown together for a mission: find Edward, snap him out of his terrible madness, and then – and then.)

note: this is the one. the story that sums it all up. "how do you feel about izzy? what do you think was going on with him? how would a coherent version of him, flaws and all, realistically interact with the people most important to him during this time?" well: like this. focuses on repression, again, a key theme for me. though the repression here is not just physical, but mental, too. this was an exercise in finding a way to present a dislikeable, misguided, unreliable narrator as a point of view character and still finding meaning and empathy in his perspective. one of the most satisfying things i've ever written.

[love-bylerstuff]

Can we talk about how loving Mike looks at Will, especially when wills not looking back, like yes it’s a widely known thing but oh my god I’ve only ever started at one person that way and it was someone I was in love with but let me also say that’s not how he looks at eleven at all

[willthecleric]

RAHHH do you have any good examples or theories as to why you believe byler is endgame ?? i really hope so ,,,, but i'm not sure they'd realistically be able to wrap up/resolve allat with a whole new relationship in one season so suddenly...

Hey there!

I have tons of evidence for why Byler is endgame, but I’m too lazy to get into this late at night lol. So I’m going to just link the Byler Bible here. I don’t agree with all of it, but it’s still really solid.

I also have a post linked on my blog under Byler Masterlist that has a bunch of Byler posts. It’s really out of date, but still has good stuff.

And in terms of your fears, I get that. But we need to remember that Byler has evidence for it going back to S1. And on top of that they’ve been best friends for a decade. It has a whole lot of build up, and more supporting it than any other ship in the show. And Mildew started dating after knowing each other for a week and has no positive build up at all. It’s the ship that’s nonsensical tbh lol.

Also Finn and Noah have been filming together a lot. There is tons of screentime coming up for them in S5. With others, but also alone.

Hopefully that was helpful. 😅

[moderatelyhappy]

I still see the ghost of myself walking that front porch. Down the end of my street is this great rotting mass of a house . Its foundation turned to rubble against the onslaught of water from the nearby creek. I suppose over the years the water level rose faster than owners had expected. I passed by this monument when I go between the mimosas and kudzu to the creek side. Each time my eyes lingered on its windows a bit more .

My dad had a habit of taking us on walks with his new wife . What should have been bonding was quickly overtaken by her . My sister and I lagged behind them, always five paces away. During one of these walks she asked if I’d accompany her in sneaking inside . My dad and his lover long gone down the road, we braved the weeds and climbed the porch . Dry rotted plastic crunched under our shoes as we peered around the porch with my phone flashlight. We soon found the source of it piled against the wall of the house . The pieces became more whole as we came closer. If it hadn’t been for the proof of the years gone by in the labels mildew, or the eroded bits strewn about , they looked as if someone had set them down just yesterday. The few whole cassettes laid there , waiting for their player who will never come back.

[i-love-ropes]

ROPE OF THE WEEK (2):

HAUL-MASTER 1/4 IN. X 50 FT. POLYPROPYLENE ROPE

FROM AQUA HARBOR FREIGHT

(Real equivalent equivalent to Harbor Freight)

HELLO! I’M ROPE MF AND I LOVE ROPES!!!

I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT MY ROPES EARLIER BUT KING DEDEDE TOLD ME THAT I SHOULD TRY LEAVING THE FOREST MORE OFTEN

AND I ASKED HIM “WHY?” 

AND HE REPLIED “WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU LEFT THE FOREST? DON’T INCLUDE THOSE MEETINGS WITH YOUR ROPE DEALERS.”

I TOLD HIM “YEARS.”

SO THEN HE SENT ME TO THE RAINBOW ISLANDS TO EXPLORE THEM FOR FIVE DAYS!

HE ALSO SENT ME SOME STAR COINS TO BUY FOOD BUT I BOUGHT ROPES INSTEAD!!!

I’M GOING TO TALK THIS ROPE I BOUGHT ON THE TRIP NOW!

WITH OVER 645 REVIEWS AND RATED AT 4.6 STARS

THIS POLYPROPYLENE ROPE IS A THREE-STRANDED TWIST ROPE

THAT MEANS IT'S NOT ONLY EASY TO HANDLE, BUT GREAT FOR THE OUTDOORS BECAUSE IT’S RESISTANT TO MILDEW AND MOLD

IT’S ALSO ROT-PROOF

IT’S ALSO DESIGNED TO FLOAT ON WATER

THAT MEANS IT WON’T SINK LIKE MY OLD ROPE DID!

I MISS MY ROPE SO MUCH…

(Rope MF needed a moment to mourn his lost rope)

ITS SLICK SURFACE IS GREAT BECAUSE IT PREVENTS IT FROM SNAGGING

WHICH MEANS IT’S EASIER TO DRAG WHILE WALKING AROUND THE FOREST LIKE I USUALLY DO!

THIS ROPE DOES NOT ONLY DOES ALL THE THINGS STATED BEFORE

BUT IT ALSO DOES. NOT. EASILY. FRAY.

THAT’S AMAZING!!!

THIS ROPE IS SUPER DURABLE

WHICH IS GREAT BECAUSE I CAN HOLD AND LOOK AT THIS ROPE FOR LONGER!!!

IT CAN ALSO HOLD UP TO 112 POUNDS!

112 POUNDS WORTH OF ROPES!!!

112 POUNDS WORTH OF ROPE MF!

ONE KING DEDEDE FROM 16 YEARS AGO! 

NOW, WE WILL NEED AT LEAST TWO HUAL-MASTER 1/4 IN. X 50 FT. POLYPROPYLENE ROPE TO CARRY KING DEDEDE

BUT MORE ROPES THE MERRIER!!!

YOU THINK THIS ROPE WOULD BE EXPENSIVE WITH HOW HIGH QUALITY IT IS BUT NO! IT COST 12 STAR COINS!!! THAT IS ALMOST 2 KIRBY BURGERS FROM THE WADDLE DEE CAFE

(Based off of some calculations, a star coin cost at least $0.18 and the rope in the real world cost $2.19 (I rounded it down and used the American system))

THAT’S WHY I BOUGHT MANY OF THEM!

I’VE BEEN USING THEM ALL AROUND THE HOUSE

FOR EXAMPLE:

I USED IT THE OTHER DAY TO TIE DOWN ITEMS AROUND MY HOUSE DURING A VERY STRONG WIND STORM

I USED IT THE OTHER DAY TO NOT GET BLOWN AWAY DURING THE WIND STORM

I HAVE ALSO BEEN USING IT TODAY TO DRAG LOGS AROUND BECAUSE MY HOME GOT DAMAGED DURING THE WIND STORM

A SINGLE LIGHTING-BOLT SHOT THROUGH MY HOUSE, SETTING IT ON FIRE!!!

THE ROPE IS A GREAT HELP!!!

IT’S MAKING CARRYING AND DRAGGING THINGS AROUND EASIER WHILE I’M REBUILDING MY HOME!

I RATE THIS ROPE A

10/10