#only match corresponding dies.

[justrustandstardust]

i saw an incredible post on tiktok and i wanted to expand on it, because it's genuinely amazing. all the credit to @noesbf on tt for the idea that inspired these thoughts.

geto's character is threaded through with motifs of consumption. he takes things in, whether they be curses or daughters, and is spurred by intense empathy that ends up going in the "wrong" direction once he takes the entire jujutsu world under his wing.

when we're introduced to him in hidden inventory, our first glimpse is of him consuming a curse. he's also alone, in a dark alleyway, a symbolic image that parallels his journey throughout the story. he's a consumptive force, a facet of his being that ultimately leads to his undoing because he consumes the responsibility of "saving" the strong, who are burdened by the weak.

gojo, on the other hand, repels. he's an outward force, extending out a physical barrier that creates distance between his body and the world. where geto invites, gojo rejects. their abilities are constructed as diametrically opposed to one another's.

through the motif of gojo's abilities, this image captures their consume/repel dynamic in a singular shot. after riko's death, gojo leans into red, which repels. he focuses on growing stronger and in doing so, isolates himself from the world (and subsequently, geto). on the other hand, geto leans into blue, which aligns with the consumptive nature of his character. he harbours riko's death inside of himself and it festers, like a curse.

black holes are all-consuming vacuums. they subsume everything around them and create an inescapable vortex— once you're pulled in, you're never getting out. it will literally eat you and in doing so, makes you an everlasting part of it.

white holes, on the other hand, function in opposition to black ones along the same axis. where black holes pull, white holes push. nothing can enter them; they're doomed to a lonely eternity because of the force that holds the universe at a distance. nothing outside of it can affect what goes on within, yet it affects everything around it.

however, white holes can be subsumed by black holes. while nothing can enter them, if a white hole were to cross paths with a black hole, its consumptive force is so powerful that it would eat them too.

after geto and gojo experience a rapture in their relationship, gojo withdraws from the world, holding everyone at a literal and figurative distance. yet, even while he's alone, he's endlessly drawn towards geto. his eyes are bound but his soul isn't— it's tied to the piece of him inside of someone else, and gojo visibly feels the pull.

white/black holes also correspond to the colours associated with gojo and geto's characters (they align with their yin/yang dynamic, where yin (black) symbolizes darkness & the moon and yang (white) symbolizes light & the sun).

yin/yang are more than two halves; they form an indivisible whole. they become one another: light turns to dark, the moon replaces the sun in the sky, life transitions into death only to be born as life again.

if two celestial bodies exert oppositional forces upon each other, they function in equilibrium. geto's consumption was growing alongside gojo's repelling, reaching an event horizon when he took the lives of 112 villagers and forcing the two of them out of equilibrium. he continued to consume (curses, money, vulnerable people through his cult) until he died and took gojo's soul with him.

consumption can only exist if there's a repellant force pushing back. geto and gojo are not opposites, instead, they each contain the other— every yin has yang within it and vice versa.

they are borne of each other, they are unknowable without the other. they are more than matching; together, they are complete.

[im-subtextsexual]

I’m glad so many people picked up on the vibes between Eloise and Cressida. Not a ship I ever considered before, but the tension was palpable. I’ve been a Queer Eloise truther since reading the books. Her portrayal on the show only made it more obvious in my mind. I didn’t think the writers would ever go there, but the set up is just so explicit, now I’m not sure. I don’t think they’d actually make Eloise / Cressida canon, but I do think they’re testing the waters for wlw Eloise. And it makes perfect sense. 

First off, the character is queer (I’ll hold off from labeling her a lesbian outright, because there’s definitely room for other identities like bi, demi, ace…. etc.) Even in the books. I legitimately think Julia Quinn accidentally wrote a sapphic character and then didn’t know what to do with her. So what we got is “To Sir Phillip, With Love”, widely considered to be one of the worst in the series. Believe me, if there’s any story that could stand to deviate from the books, it’s this one. And the story could so easily be adapted to a wlw romance, it would be a wasted opportunity not to do it. Like… the story would be better if they tweaked it to fit a queer canon. AND it could be done in a historically accurate way to shut up the naysayers that “a lesbian storyline wouldn’t fit in this universe.” How? Allow me to explain.

*SPOILERS FOR BRIDGERTON SERIES BOOK 5*

In the book, Eloise strikes up a correspondence with Sir Phillip Crane. Yes, THAT Phillip, the one currently married to Marina from season 1&2. Marina kills herself because she can’t stand to be married to Phillip and deal with their children in the wake of her lover / his brother’s death. His initial interest in Eloise is to find a mother for his children. She is intrigued by his intelligence and decides she doesn't want to be alone, but isn’t necessarily eager to marry or have a family. Due to romance novel shenanigans, she runs away to Phillip's house and is forced to marry him. Even as they grow to kind of love each other, it's far from some grand romance. It’s the very definition of “settling”. The most interesting part is the narrative structure of their story being told through letters in the beginning. We could keep all that, but make it gay. 

*Imagine*

Eloise meets some dapper gentlemen new to the marriage mart. We’ll call him Emmett. Very little is known about Emmett and his family as they keep largely to themselves at their estate in the countryside. The only thing that’s widely known is the family suffered a tragic accident where the man of the house and his oldest daughter died, leaving his son (the other twin) to take on the responsibility of rank and title very early. Emmet is making a rare appearance in London to find a wife (there are rumors of stipulations in his inheritance requiring a match). ALL the debutantes are fawning over him because he’s mysterious and extraordinarily good-looking. One might even say “pretty”… To everyone’s great surprise the season’s most eligible bachelor takes a special interest in Eloise after overhearing her talking about her disdain for the social convention of marriage, and how she would only consider it if it were an in-name-only, marriage of convenience. Emmett strikes up a conversation with Eloise and she is taken by his humor, wit and shockingly deep empathy for the limitations society puts on women. They continue to gravitate to each other through the first few events of the season, but Emmett has to return home suddenly because of a family emergency. Eloise is shocked to find herself disappointed, but they promise to write. Cue the correspondence romance.

Eloise grows more and more smitten with Emmett every letter she receives, but still has the same reservations about marriage especially when she thinks of the intimacy a relationship like that would require. When Emmett hints that he may want more than friendship, Eloise's feelings get the better of her and she goes to visit Emmett unannounced. He is shocked to see her, but let's her stay and she gets to know his mother and two younger sisters. The Bridgertons go looking for Eloise, worried something has happened to her. When she is found to have been staying for days in an unwed man's home without a chaperone, the potential scandal causes Anthony to force Eloise and Emmett to marry. Surprisingly, Emmett actually agrees so Eloise does too (all of this is essentially what happens in the book).

Eloise confesses to Emmett that she's nervous/resistant to physical intimacy, but he assures her they never have to be together that way. In fact, he would prefer the marriage of convenience they always talked about. Eloise is relieved until their kiss at the wedding sparks an attraction she wasn't expecting. They spend the first month or so of their marriage sleeping in separate rooms, enjoying each other's company, and letting the tension build. One night, Eloise's control and curiosity finally snaps and she goes to Emmett's room to initiate a physical relationship. She catches Emmett off guard in his sleeping clothes which makes it VERY clear... Emmett is a woman (cliffhanger of episode 4, and where we deviate from book canon to make it queer).

After the initial shock, Eloise allows her new "husband" to explain. Emmett is really Emma, the daughter believed to have died in a carriage accident with her father so many years ago. It was her twin brother that actually died, but since there were no other male heirs, Emma's family fortune would have gone to a distant uncle who is cruel and abusive. To save them of that fate, Emma's mother conspired with the local coroner to make it look like Emma was the one who died, so "Emmett" could inherit everything. Emma has been living as Emmett ever since, successfully keeping up the deception by keeping a low profile in society. The only reason Emma came to London that year is because her uncle died, and a cousin had come around asking questions hoping to inherit. She thought getting married would help secure her identity as Emmett and the cousin would back off. At first Eloise is outraged. She feels betrayed by Emma's duplicity, and is terrified if any of this ever got out everyone they know would be ruined forever. She agrees to keep the secret to save her family's reputation, but shuns Emma. Eventually, Emma (already aware that she's in love with Eloise) attempts to make amends and Eloise is charmed enough that she relaxes back into the relationship they had before the Big Reveal. The only problem is the attraction is still there, even more so now that Eloise knows the truth. Things come to a head, and they go at it Bridgerton style.

Emma and Eloise live happily in a true marriage for a bit until Cressida and Penelope come for a visit. They both find out about Emma, but are sworn to secrecy. Pen easily swears her loyalty (having already suspected Eloise), but Cressida is sickened. In a rage, she threatens to out them all, and storms back to London. Eloise follows her and begs Cressida to keep the secret, and tries to explain why the "wrong" feelings she has for Emma are very right for her. To Eloise's surprise, Cressida isn't upset about what she's doing with Emma, but who she's doing it with. She didn't know what they're doing was an option; that she was an option. Cressida confesses that if she'd known a life with Eloise was a choice she could make, it's the life she would have chosen. Eloise lets Cressida down easy by explaining they didn't have that choice. Everyone in the ton knows who they are. The only reason her relationship with Emma works is because of the ruse that allows Emma to be Emmett. Cressida takes this in stride, and vows to keep the secret, but her mother overhears and causes the biggest scandal London Society has ever seen.

The Bridgertons and a few friends (like Lady Danbury) are as understanding as possible, but the rest of the ton is rabid. Things escalate to the point where Emma and Eloise have to appear before the Queen. Emma pleads her case about pretending to save her family, and insists that Eloise didn't know until well after they were married so she's innocent. Eloise can't help herself and gets on her soapbox about the way society limits women, and that the Queen should understand their plight. Shockingly, she does. She annuls their "marriage" (because they didn't consummate anything... RIGHT?!) but she agrees to let Emma control her family's estate until one of her sisters produces a male heir. After that, she and Eloise will receive a pension from the Crown so they can live independently (the real Queen Charlotte actually did this for suspected historical sapphic couple The Ladies of Llangollen). Since Emma and Eloise would never be able to find husbands now, they decide that they'll just be two spinsters growing old together in their house in the countryside. You know... just two gal pals. No one believes that shit, but they rarely interact with the ton, so they're largely left alone to live as they please.

Happy ending, close to canon, historically accurate, and super gay. It's not that hard. You're welcome.

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 1: the Light Dies

masterlist | next

🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: He’s the hero. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the villain.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.6k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, it’s sorta like a mafia au but they have superpowers lmao 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, minor character death, attempted murder, injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: I have to say thank you to @casuallyimagining and @bluewhale52 for betaing this chapter, although this might come as a surprise to them since that was maybe 3 years ago now?😅I'm really not sure how much my writing had changed since then, but you guys can be the judge of that as the future chapters unfold! In the meantime, enjoy! If you want more supercharged in your life, you can also search my supercharged tag to find some musings, rambling, gifsets and visuals etc that inspired me and kept me going while I lost my mind over this story!

Lastly, I present the supercharged playlist✨ I had a lot of fun making this – several songs align with plot events, while some of them are there for the title, the vibe, or even a single line! Feel free to guess which are which or come and chat with me about it👀

An ear-splitting roar was barely contained behind shuddering steel doors. Just down the corridor, your fingers still clicked away, unperturbed, at your keyboard.

Tapping your foot, you looked impatiently up at the clock as another thunderous bellow assaulted the air. If the full-length windows weren’t reinforced by your boss, Kuyang’s own design, they would be rattling in their frames.

Blowing to rid your face of a strand of hair, you returned to your work, not even sparing a glance towards the source of the racket. It was only around half an hour until you could leave work for the weekend.

Finishing your task, you turned to filing the correspondence on your desk as a few yells carried through the air, mingled with the monster’s uproar. Bills and business deals the lot of them, you tucked them away in their respective places to be dealt with next week – only to stop on the very last one. How many times had the postman ignored the very clear sign for no newspapers?

You supposed the city felt the need to remind everyone that there was some semblance of central control – not really of much concern in a workplace such as yours, mind. Glancing across the front page, you realised why. You didn’t have a tv at home, but you would have to live under a rock not to recognise your city’s most celebrated superhero. Bolt, the media’s beloved, had claimed another victory against some crazy start-up trying to build their own bombs downtown.

The hero’s blue-masked face grinned confidently up at you from the desk, while police led what looked to be two scruffy teenagers into the back of their van. But Bolt’s vivid presence eclipsed them in his suit that matched his bright eyes.

Not bothering to read further, you pushed the paper into the waste bin at the end of the table.

Just as you were tucking away the final bits of paper, your boss emerged, wiping his brow on a cloth that looked as dirty as his face. Smiling pleasantly despite his ruffled state, you rotated on your chair to face him.

“Frank’s all good and sleepy now,” he said, “if you could get him sent up to the chamber.”

“Sure,” you nodded, already getting up and straightening your jacket.

With nothing more than a weary nod of appreciation, he left for his private laboratory. This was through a series more armoured doors, to which only you and a small number of lab workers knew the codes.

He was a scientist. And you were sure he was unhinged, but the job paid well, so that was all you concerned yourself with.

In fact, you had got very lucky. You had been surprised when such a good position had become available and quickly given to someone as ill-qualified as you, with no references to give. But your lack of connections seemed of no concern, and here you were, finally making ends meet and no longer in fear of being turned out of your run-down apartment at the edge of town.

So you did your job as well as you could, worrying yourself over nothing except pleasing the odd man that was Kuyang.

Even so, it was still a little daunting each time you had to come face-to-face with one of his experiments.

Reaching the steel doors that had not long ago been seriously threatening their hinges, you took a breath. Holding your thumb over a scanner by the door, you plastered a confident smile on your face as you walked inside.

Affectionately dubbed ‘Frank’, a great lump of teeth and dark furry flesh several times bigger than you was sleeping in a pod at the centre of the room. Surrounding this were multitudes of screens showing graphs and readings you couldn’t hope to understand.

At the edges of the room, a smattering of other workers were slumped against the stainless steel lab walls, almost as rumpled as their boss had been.

A hulking guard, Taeyeon, stood near the entrance, and you quietly confirmed with her that Frank was under and secure. Nodding, you gestured to Taeyeon’s team, another man and woman with the same uniform and intimidating stature.

Together, you assembled in front of the tank that held Frank, Taeyeon typing authorisation into one of the computers. The others locked down the external doors, just in case.

Though it was a familiar sight by now, the opening of the pod always prompted you to run through your training. If you hadn’t read it in the documents you dealt with, you would not have known Frank was also known as Necrus X, a new prototype Kuyang was working on, although you could not imagine what for.

Kuyang had been sure to tell you how to knock out the creature if it ever came to it, though. There was a spot behind his ear, which was more of a ridge at the side of his enormous head.

With the pod open, a panel rose from the floor, taking Frank rotating upwards. You caught sight of the patch behind its ear, zeroing in on it. Just in case.

The smooth expanse of ceiling split then, a hole revealing itself as the roof shrunk away into the walls, leaving a clear path for Frank to rise to the next floor, where he was stored.

As effortlessly as the ceiling retreating, a smooth steel staircase emerged from the walls. You and Taeyeon climbed it, spiralling around the edges of the circular space until you drew level with Frank, now snoring on the upper floor. Here, the space was wide open like an empty art gallery, half the walls comprised of expansive windows, no lab equipment to be seen.

The floor closed up beneath you both and you walked around Frank, opening a secret panel in the wall. As before, you raised your thumb to a blank scanner – but got no further.

A deafening smash sent you crouching to the ground in panic. Livid blue painted all the walls in the space as shattered glass skidded across the floor.

You had thought that glass to be unbreakable. At least that was the intention. But when you turned, you were forced to believe your ears: the central panel of glass was completely blown in, all the others down the row cracked from the force.

At the same moment the glass had shattered, you could suddenly hear what before had been hidden behind soundproofing. Outside, there were shouts, screams, car horns and alarms blaring from every angle – and above all, sirens. Sirens wailing through the air like disembodied banshees, descending, apparently, on your building.

Shuffling along the floor, you peered past the sleeping mass that was Frank in front of you. Walking across the room was a man in a tight blue suit, the same hue crackling in the air around his hands.

Bolt.

Mind short-circuiting, you were frozen. What should you do?

What was Bolt doing here? Was there some kind of threat? The image of him should have brought you relief, even though you knew nothing of what the danger was, but you hesitated.

Only having the presence of mind to shrink back silently behind Frank, you looked between the beast and the control panel you had abandoned. But you had no more chance to move before a fearsome crack ripped through the air, another flash of blue, sending the hairs on your arms bolting upright.

Spinning back to face Frank, you were met with a thump. A body, falling onto the floor.

Though she was mostly obscured by Frank’s sleeping form, you stared in unbelieving horror at Taeyeon where she lay, unmoving. Breath accelerating in your throat, you moved at last, scooting yourself back and away. Closer to the wall.

First you lunged to sound the alarm, mounted inside the wall panel, which instantly lit the room up in throbbing red, blaring loud enough to drown out the sirens outside. Then your hand was fumbling across the scanner. You had to get Frank locked away.

The walls of the pod which safely contained Frank overnight began to descend, much too slowly for your liking. Whirling to face the room, your heart seized in your chest when the imposing figure of Bolt, now shaded purple by the red light, met your eyes.

A glance up at the descending walls. They were halfway to the ground by now, but you still had to enter the code to lock them down.

Bolt yelled for you to stop, barely audible over the dizzying noise of the warning siren.

As he strode towards you, you could only watch, pressing yourself desperately against the wall as if it could swallow you up.

Bright light cut through the imposing red as the heavy door at the opposite end of the room was thrown open. Bolt stopped, both of you turning to see Kuyang enter. His hair was still sticking up from earlier, a strange expression on his face that you hadn’t seen before.

Paying no mind to the maniacal smile that had no place on Kuyang’s face, you took the moment of distraction to scramble for the code lock.

Without a sound, the gap between the floor and Frank’s pod closed, and your fingers were already leaping to action, typing the numbers behind your back at lightning speed.

Kuyang was running now, a direct path towards Bolt. But Bolt turned back towards you.

You were nearly done, but his hand was raising towards you…

In a split second, your fingertip met the final key of the code. Almost instantly, it was ripped away as shocking blue light cut through the air. You felt the impact before you could even notice that it was aimed at you.

Hitting you square in the chest, white hot pain scorched through your every nerve as your body was flung backwards, powerless as a ragdoll sailing through the air. The collision with the cracked window behind was almost lost on you. More intense pain was writhing its way down each limb, making you cry out, uncaring about the rain-spattered wind that whipped about your face now.

But you could see shards of glass as they fell along with you, like daggers aimed at the ground.

Biting wind rushed in your ears, the sound crashing over you like waves. And just as a pan sizzles down off the heat, the ferocious attack of pain seemed to reduce just as fast as it had invaded you.

Your heartbeat was the loudest thing, booming over the insistent web of sirens and whistling air.

Breathing choppily, you screwed your eyes nearly closed, suddenly aware of the tempest around you as you fell. Above, the already darkening winter night was illuminated with flashes of that awful blue.

You were falling.

It hit you then, as if you hadn’t been falling all this time. But it was only now that your senses caught up with themselves. You worked on a very high floor of the skyscraper, but as you were tossed around in the air, you saw the ground rapidly approaching.

A horror gripped your chest like nothing you had ever felt before.

Below you, and rushing towards you at terrifying speed, a skip sat surrounded by heaps of trash on the street. Unable to think, you could only shield your face with your hands, stretched out in front of you as if to stop the inevitable collision.

Though your eyes fell closed, you felt the jerk that flung your whole body backwards.

That wasn’t what you had expected.

Eyes snapping open in confusion, you found your vision lit with blue. In front of your face, blue light was shooting from your palms, pushing you up and away from the ground.

Your mouth fell open. Gaping in shock, you did nothing as the light died and you slowed again in the air.

Though you began falling much slower this time, you barely had time to notice your surroundings – much nearer the ground – before you were plummeting again, and this time nothing could stop you.

Your eyes weren’t even open when you felt your body slide off something. Not a second later, you were crumpling onto hard concrete which grazed your cheek.

You groaned.

It was dark. High above, any flashes of light didn’t reach you here, having landed in a thin alley beside the building. And though this shielded you from the commotion on the main streets out front, sirens still pierced the air, each one feeling like a stab to your head.

You clutched it as you maneuvered to sit. It took you a few tries, groping for a wall or something to lean against as you regained your balance.

Eyes cracking open, you waited patiently for the dark splotches to dispel before looking around.

Right next to you was a car which blocked you from view of the road beyond this alley. Evident from the dent that caved in its bonnet, that was what you had landed on.

Turning your head, you had to squint even more as light assaulted your sensitive eyes.

Among a blazing light, you could make out the vague shapes of rubbish bags and an overflowing skip that you recognised. Out of these, a vibrant fire was now burning. The correlation was too strong for you to ignore.

Breath shallow, you turned your horrified gaze to your hands.

They had done this… but how? They looked totally normal now.

Frowning, you brought them up closer to your face, so that your nose was practically buried in your palms.

No difference.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined that blue light which saved you earlier. Was there a way to make it come back?

While you were puzzling, you lowered your hands again, still staring intently as you rotated them in your lap.

Then, quick as a blink, a blue flash darted from them again. So fast, in fact, that you had no time to react before one of the bolts was fired directly into your opposite arm.

Snatching it away reflexively, you hissed in pain as a burning sensation crawled, tingling, over your skin there.

Despite the pain, the blue light didn't cease shooting from your hands. They tingled, a strangely uncomfortable sensation. It was as if something warm was wriggling its way up your veins and spilling from your fingertips.

“Stop! Stop!” you whispered in panic.

You turned them outwards, aiming away from you, but if they kept at it for much longer you were sure to draw attention.

Moving your hands around jerkily, the beams of light shook along with you, but did not go out. With each unsuccessful movement, panic made you more frantic until the glowing rays jerked erratically around the small space.

Straying too far, the light came into contact with a post at the alley’s entrance. You could only watch, helpless, as light like blue snakes skittered up it and latched around the wires it supported.

To your relief, the strange current seemed to have found an outlet, and only remained a second longer before cutting out. You were left blinking in the relative darkness. Panting heavily, you stared down at your hands, although you did not bring them too close anymore.

Once again, they appeared utterly innocent. There was nothing to suggest they had just channelled lightning through them.

Suddenly, the world plunged into darkness. The fire still burned at the other end of the alley, or you would have been left totally blind. In the building behind you, in the street, all the lights had gone out.

Almost instantly following the blackout, screaming rose again in the air.

Gulping, your eyes travelled to the blackened post at the corner, which you had accidentally electrocuted.

This was bad. Your head was spinning, both from your short, hard fall and from the whirlwind of events that had happened in what could only have been minutes. Surrounded by darkness, with the wail of the city and a fire for company, you could only see one course of action.

Run.

You had to get away from here. It wasn’t safe. You had little idea where was safe, but you couldn’t be here anymore.

It wasn’t like you had anyone to call who would care enough to come and pick you up. Nor did you have the money to try a hospital, though you felt as if you may need it.

But especially with electricity shooting from your hands at the drop of a hat, it probably wasn’t best to be anywhere around people.

The dizziness from your unfortunate landing on the car had worn off while you were sitting, but the world swayed anew the moment you made to stand. Pushing determinedly against the wall, you struggled on anyway, brand new dark spots in your vision offset by the brightness of the fire you walked towards.

This end of the alleyway led out through smaller streets, away from the city centre and furore of sirens.

On reaching the opening, you cautiously assessed the road stretching away either side. Empty. And if there was anyone there, they wouldn’t see you in this darkness.

Shoving your hands beneath your armpits on some misguided hope of keeping them from causing problems, you lowered your head and ran. It was more of a jog, considering everything, but you still moved as quickly as you could beneath the dead streetlamps.

Head throbbing more with movement, you stumbled a few times as you went. The pavement tilted around you.

You had made it a few roads before you felt that awful tingling in your arms again. It itched, like something fighting its way out of your skin.

Nausea rolled in the pit of your stomach. This couldn’t be real.

Slowing down and stopping beneath a signpost, you drew your shaking hands out in front of you. The world careened on its axis, revolving around the sight of your palms as a faint blue glow grew in them.

You were going to throw up, you were sure of it.

You wanted it to stop.

A few flickers of blue darted down the veins in your wrist. Towards your fingertips. Sparks leapt from them, small tendrils of lightning crackling between your fingers like webbing.

At last, you gave in to the rising horror mixed with a sick feeling. The floor’s spinning became too much, your hands turning to a bright blur in the centre of your vision.

You passed out on the spot.

Lights were turning on again around the city. Television sets flickering back to life to announce Bolt’s victory against the beast that had attacked earlier that evening.

But not on the street where you still lay.

The return of light only reached neighbouring roads, dim glow snuffed out before it could penetrate the middle of this street. A white-haired young man stepped forwards, but his face was totally obscured in darkness.

“Here,” he spoke to the silence.

The next moment, a deep red glowed in the middle of the road, though it brought little light. The red bounced off a signpost before it was gone, replaced by another man, seemingly from nowhere.

The newest arrival stood there, looking down at your figure, unconscious by the sign. Then he disappeared again, leaving total darkness behind as if he had never been there at all.

A few more moments passed, you and the hidden man the only beings on the dark road.

Not very long after, a car’s engine rumbled and sputtered into earshot. The bright beam of headlights rounded the corner, growing larger and shedding light on your form as it drew closer.

Pulling up next to you, the engine died along with the lights. Two doors opened and slammed shut.

As two pairs of feet stepped nearer to join the one remaining beside you, the streetlamp directly overhead began to glow. The faint glimmer grew until it illuminated the scene. Still no other lights joined it, leaving the small group of you lit up as if by spotlight.

“It’s her?”

The man crouching beside you asked the question without looking up, and the shadowed man answered.

“Pretty sure.”

“She’s breathing?”

“Yes.”

The crouching man hummed. Moving to kneel instead, his eyes roved over your somewhat battered face, dark hair obscuring his own.

“Namjoon?” he asked then, turning to the other man from the car. It was the same man who had momentarily appeared in the street earlier.

Taking his cue, the tall man, Namjoon, walked forwards and bent to lift your hands by the wrists. In just moments he was placing them carefully back, nodding.

“No doubt.”

“Okay then.”

“Can she travel, Jin?”

“Give me a moment.”

Producing a small object, he pressed a button and a small light sprung from the end. Carefully lifting one of your eyelids, he shone the light into it, observing like a doctor.

The first you became aware of was the far away sound of voices being quietly exchanged. But with the cloudiness in your head, identifying them didn’t seem very urgent. You were preoccupied with the swirling feeling that made the world swim around you, even though it was dark.

But as dim awareness was returning to you, the process of regaining your senses was violently accelerated as a blinding light was thrust into your vision.

You flinched, and as Jin pulled away he saw you blink, eyelids screwing shut in protest. His eyebrows raised in slight concern as he watched your first groggy movements.

Blinking around at the dimly lit figures over you, your eyes widened. The nearest man held the illuminated light stick. Was he a doctor?

Next, your eyes darted to the tall man standing behind him. You recognised neither.

Some strange feeling told you someone else was standing there too, but when you looked to your other side you were faced with nothing but empty shadow.

“Can you sit?”

The first man’s question was gentle, his hands ready to support you.

Nodding timidly, you heaved yourself up with his help. It embarrassed you to be panting after just that much movement.

“What happened?” came the next question.

As you replayed the events, you avoided their eyes. You could not let them know what happened, what you had become. They were helping you, and yet you might hurt them-

Fists clenching subconsciously, you stuttered in panic.

“I-I can’t pay,” you told them, but before you could say more a new voice was speaking. The standing man stepped forwards, his voice calm and surprisingly friendly.

“There’s no need to pay. We can help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t, uh, I-I-“

His eyes travelled towards your hands, which you were trying to tuck behind you.

“You gained powers, didn’t you?”

You froze.

“I have them too,” he smiled, “I know what it’s like to be scared. But you can work with this and learn to control them. I’m Namjoon, and this is Jin. We’ve been through this before, we can help you.”

At your sides, your hands relaxed. Tension lifted from your tightly hunched shoulders. Wordless, you looked between the men who were watching you, ready to move, but only on your word.

Swallowing, a light frown creased your brow.

“What do you want-”

Namjoon’s smile dimmed into something kinder.

“At least let us check you over.”

Your hands fretted together. It was strange, you couldn’t feel anything there. Surely they should feel different? How would you know if these… powers, Namjoon had said, were to come back?

“You won’t hurt us, don’t worry,” he seemed to anticipate your thoughts as he watched you, “we can protect ourselves.”

“You were unconscious,” Jin spoke, drawing your perplexed gaze back to him, “did you hit your head?”

You blinked, but found yourself answering.

“I think so.”

Nodding, Jin shuffled at your side. He leaned a bit closer.

“I need to shine this light in your eyes again. You may have a concussion.”

Complying, you sat through the eye-watering brightness. He asked you things, like a doctor would, except he was working in the middle of an empty street in the middle of the night.

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“I did. I think still, a little.”

“Any nausea?”

“Yeah… but maybe because of the…” you gestured to your hands.

Jin sat back, taking the light with him. Namjoon shot you a sympathetic smile at that. You supposed he had been through the same thing, from the sounds of it.

Jin looked up at Namjoon.

“It looks pretty rough. Definitely a concussion, and she needs patching up, but in the long run she’ll be fine.”

“I-I’m serious,” you interjected, “I don’t have the money for hospital…”

Your voice faltered. You half thought of asking to just go home, but you were hardly sure of even making it there by yourself. And if you got there, then what? The prospect of burning down the place with these errant powers didn’t fill you with comfort.

“Good thing we’re not going to bring you there, then,” Namjoon said, “but I meant it when I said we could help. We can take you home, if you want… but you can stay with us, too.”

You stared at him wordlessly. Was it crazy that you were considering this?

“Just for a bit, if you need,” Jin added softly, “it’s just… now might not be the smartest time to be alone.”

You chewed your cheek. But your head was pounding too much to think very hard, and this seemed like the most straightforward option. The people in this city kept surprising you, after your first stroke of luck with Kuyang's generosity.

“Sure…” you spoke quietly, not quite able to look them in the eyes, “yes please.”

“Okay,” Namjoon took it in stride, “but let’s get moving.”

“Just one moment – we should wrap that.”

Gesturing towards your arm, Jin stood and went back to the car. On his return, he knelt again and began to secure cling film around the angry red blotch blistering your skin, where you had caught yourself with your own beam.

“We’ll sort it out properly when we get back,” he told you, “but Namjoon’s right, we should be going.”

You followed his gaze which seemed to dart up and down the street. However, nothing was there.

Jin helped you stand, still looking around. Sure enough, the dizziness from before hadn’t quite left you yet. Biting down on your lip, you focussed hard on getting the short distance to the car. You were led to the passenger seat and crumpled gratefully into it.

But just as Jin closed the door, you felt an uncomfortable prickling clutch your forearms again. Namjoon slid into the back seat in time to hear your gasp, noticing the way your fingers flexed in panic. Digging in his pockets, he produced a pair of thin black gloves and held them out to you just as the first trickles of blue appeared in your veins again. He watched with a studious frown as you pushed your hands into the gloves.

“Those will help,” he said, still looking at your wrists, “they can contain the powers. But you shouldn’t keep them on for too long.”

Jin was seating himself in the driver’s side as you frowned over at Namjoon. At first you had been relieved to have a solution to your erratic lightning problem, but that was ripped away at his last addition.

“Why not? It will keep you safe,” you questioned, but kept your voice quiet.

“Don’t worry, we’re more than capable of handling anything you could throw at us,” he laughed, “but you can keep them on in here. Best not to bottle up your powers forever, though.”

Resigned, you turned back to face front. The moment Jin stepped on the gas, all the lights in the road sparked to life at once. Startled, you blinked, looking around. On the pavement you were just pulling away from, a man was walking away, unidentifiable behind a hoodie.

Slumping back in your seat, you breathed a short, dry laugh. This mysterious happening was just the latest in this crazy night. You had no choice but to accept it.

The car ride was fairly short, but you were too tired and distracted to take in exactly where you were going. Streets seemed to blur together, aware only that you were heading out of town.

The itching in your arms had persisted for a while, but as promised, the gloves seemed to work. No fiery blue burst out of your palms, and, eventually, whatever it was decided to give it up, subsiding again by the time the car pulled up.

But no one got out yet. Jin had stopped at the end of a small road, big enough for only one vehicle, directly facing an expanse of crumbling and graffitied brick.

Curiosity woke you up from your daze, and you watched as Jin reached to tap something on his dashboard. Almost instantly, a groaning reached your ears from over the whirring of the engine. The wall ahead shook before shifting, sliding sideways until it tucked itself behind a dented dustbin, unveiling a space beyond.

Leaving you little more time to wonder, Jin started the car again and you rolled downwards through a plain, dark entrance. It reminded you of those multi-storey car parks formed with ugly blocks of concrete. It was considerably smaller than those, however, Jin pullingup into a space alongside about a dozen other vehicles, beyond which the place seemed entirely deserted.

Jin came around to open your door, but you were able to stand by yourself. It was still a bit of a struggle, your limbs sluggish and the world dull around you – although that may have just been the low underground light.

Namjoon led you, Jin staying close by your side. Blinking at the space as you moved through it, your eyes traced over the various car roofs, some cleaner than others. A larger four-by-four was particularly beaten up, with a large crease in one of the metal wheel arches.

Your eyes rested longest on what was probably the most pristine: a motorbike, at first hidden by the cars either side of it.

Soon enough, you were past them. Stopping as Namjoon did, you watched him expectantly. However, he did not turn around, instead standing face-to-face with a plain concrete wall. Except… now a low rumble announced the movement of a panel which slid away, revealing a wide doorway which had previously blended seamlessly with the flat wall.

Your eyebrows raised at the touch that was reminiscent of Kuyang’s lab. Without time for you to dwell on this, your small group moved up a dingy staircase that lay beyond the doorway.

At the top, you emerged into a new space, notably lighter than before. You assumed you were back on ground level, perhaps above. It was hard to be sure, disoriented as you still were in the whirlwind that had overtaken your day.

Bizarrely, the space appeared to be someone’s home. There was a large and coffee-stained table surrounded by mismatching chairs, a kitchen behind it littered with mugs and pot plants. Still, beyond the lived-in array of things lying around, it was big. You imagined it must be miles more expensive than the shoddy apartment you stayed in.

It was open plan, and you followed Namjoon past the dining table towards an area filled with two enormous sofas.

The back of a blond head was visible over the sofa, and now the person turned towards you.

“Guys!” a loud exclamation rang out as he leapt up. A dazzling smile spread across his mouth.

When his eyes fell on you, wincing at his sudden volume, the smile dimmed a little.

“Not so loud, Hope-ah,” Jin spoke gently from behind you.

“Sorry,” he dipped his head, smile remaining on his lips.

Jin’s hands came lightly to your back, steering you over to a sofa. As you sunk into it with relief, the blond man sat across from you, tilting his head to catch your eye.

“I’m Hope,” he smiled, “I’m glad we found you. You’ll be right in no time!”

Frowning, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking over the damage on your face. Averting your gaze, you chewed your lip absently.

What did he mean? I’m glad we found you…

Had they been looking for you? You still weren’t sure if it was a lucky coincidence they found you, but perhaps it was something more.

The lingering ache in your head forced you to push the issue away. You missed Namjoon’s stern look at Hoseok as he hovered behind your seat.

Jin pulled a pack from a cupboard and set it beside you. You let him lift your arm and unwrap the burn, your unfocussed eyes dragging across the room while he applied something cold over it. Next came stinging, scattered over your face as he wiped at the small cuts and grazes with an apologetic grimace you barely saw.

You only forced the world back into focus when someone else entered your sight. Emerging from behind you, a gentle, friendly smile was directed your way from a man with pale pink hair. Swallowing, you never managed to smile back before he was turning away.

The pink-haired man reached a hand out to someone you couldn’t see. Another man appeared, walking towards him, but he never looked at you. Or if he did, it was obscured behind the black hair that fell to his eyes.

The two new people left towards the kitchen, though not without another smile from the pink one.

Who were all these people?

Frowning after them, you were interrupted by a clap on the shoulder from Jin.

“We’ll talk more in the morning. You need to rest.”

Looking around, you had half a mind to protest, but were overruled by the shakiness taking over your frame. Body too fatigued to allow you much say, you meekly followed Jin.

Beyond the living space, a thinner corridor led away, several closed doors along its walls.

Further you went, until a door just ahead opened. Another person walked out.

When he stopped to face you, his posture remained stiff. Tall and muscular, he was clad all in black except for a towel slung over his shoulder. Damp hair fell messily around his head. But you had little time to take this in, as his eyes fixed themselves fiercely on yours, rendering you unable to look away.

Mouth remaining in a hard line, his expression only twitched further into a frown.

Then his gaze flicked abruptly away, travelling to Jin just beyond you.

“Kook-“

Jin never got further than that before the man strode forwards, marching sharply past you and away with a scowl. Turning after him in surprise, you watched his tense shoulders disappear behind Namjoon, who you hadn’t noticed hovering.

Namjoon stared sternly after him, but the man seemed to avoid his gaze.

Jin sighed, sending an apologetic glance at you.

“That’s just Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke, ushering you all further along the hallway, “don’t pay him any attention.”

“Why was…”

You trailed off, unsure of what exactly to ask. Neither of them made an attempt to answer.

You had no idea a wordless encounter could leech so much hostility into the atmosphere. Picturing Jungkook’s glowering face, you blindly followed the others through a different door.

“You can sleep in here.”

“Hm?”

Shaking yourself, you looked around the new room. There wasn’t much to see. Beside a low bed, there was a mirror, a wooden closet and nothing more. Looking up, you didn’t even find a light in the ceiling. The only light leaked through from the hallway.

Clearly reading your gaping mouth and furrowing brow, Namjoon moved in front of you.

“Don’t worry, this is just a place to sleep, nothing more. But since you’re going to have to take those gloves off, we can’t have you in a space with any electricals.”

Stepping back defensively, your fingers pressed tightly together. Having the gloves on had let you almost imagine that nothing life-changing had happened. Like gaining unpredictable powers, for instance.

Namjoon watched patiently, holding out a hand.

“You don’t need them…”

He realised he had never asked your name, and let his sentence trail expectantly. Telling him your name, he relaxed into a smile.

“You don’t need them, Y/N,” he repeated, not that you believed him for a second, “you’ll be perfectly safe. And so will we.”

Only the yearning to collapse onto the bed persuaded you to hand over the gloves. The instant they were in his hand, you swore you could feel a shock go up your arm. Immediately tense again, your breathing became shallower, with no idea how to try and stop power shooting from your hands any moment.

But Namjoon and Jin seemed content. Before you could gather your thoughts, they had left, closing the door and drenching your room in near total darkness.

Stumbling to the bed and virtually falling into it, you wiped sweating palms against the fabric. Your mouth was dry with fear.

This couldn’t have happened.

Alone for the first time since your initial panic, it didn’t take long for your mind to wrap itself in circles again. Only hours ago, you had been sitting happily in your bright office, going through the motions…

One split-second decision from a powerful man had changed that.

You knew full well he had intended for you to die. But he was Bolt...

He had probably forgotten about it already. The guard he sent lifeless to the floor, the secretary he threw from the building.

Itching feeling returning, you swallowed desperately and raised your hands. Sure enough, against the darkness, blue pierced your vision, darting its way up-

Turning your face away, you flinched as the outburst came. Your eyes screwed shut, you pressed your cheek into fabric, not wanting to see the deathly lightning that shot through the room. Shuddering breaths broke into your lungs when at last it subsided.

Letting them fall, limp, to your sides, your hands fisted the covers tightly.

You were almost afraid to open your eyes, knowing it would only show you the empty room, confirmation that this was real. You were dangerous, shut in a safe room where you could hurt no one. Would you ever get out? Succeed in controlling this, like Namjoon had said?

With no idea where you were, barely any idea who the people here were, you wanted to block it out. But even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t escape.

The memory of Jungkook’s suspicious face made your heart sink. Perhaps people should be afraid of you, now. As much as you may want to, there was no getting away from this.

Pushing yourself to sit, you surveyed the room. Eyes accustomed to the blackness a little more, you could make out vague shapes. Your breath fell alone in the silence. This really was the safest place you could be right now, even if it was a nightmare.

As your head turned, you suddenly came level with your eyes in the mirror, and a shock of light.

For an extended moment, you could only stare.

Then all at once you were rushing forwards, tripping from the end of the bed. Bracing your arms against the wall either side of the mirror, you gaped at your reflection.

As you watched, an angular bolt of blue shot across your irises, which were already dimly glowing.

You gulped against the thick feeling crawling up your throat. Faced with this, you could no longer have any hope of denying it.

This was really happening.

Thank you for reading!! Please please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, comments make it all worthwhile!💜����

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[blueiscoool]

Bronze Bust of Roman Emperor Caligula Rediscovered After 200 Years

The small bronze statue, which was unearthed at Herculaneum, had been missing for two centuries

A curator in England has rediscovered a tiny Roman-era bronze bust of the emperor Caligula, which had been missing for some 200 years.

The artifact was unearthed in the mid-18th century at Herculaneum, the ancient town preserved under volcanic ash since Mount Vesuvius’ eruption in 79 C.E. Then, Horace Mann, the British ambassador to Italy, acquired the five-inch-tall statue and gave it to his friend, Horace Walpole, the British writer and politician.

The two friends even exchanged letters about the 2,000-year-old bronze, according to a statement from Strawberry Hill House, Walpole’s Gothic home in London.

“I gaze on it from morning to night. It is more a portrait than any picture I ever saw,” Walpole wrote in 1767. “The hair and ears seem neglected, to heighten the expression of the eyes, which are absolutely divine, and have a wild melancholy in them, that one forebodes might ripen to madness.”

Caligula is infamous for his eccentric and cruel behavior. Legend has it that the emperor was so obsessed with his horse, Incitatus, that he tried to make the animal a consul, though this rumor is likely untrue. His reign, which began in 37 C.E., was erratic. He was assassinated after only four years in power.

Today, only seven other small-scale bronze busts of the emperor are known to exist. When Walpole died in 1797, his Roman bust changed hands several times, with some owners mistaking the visage for Alexander the Great.

Silvia Davoli, a curator at Strawberry Hill, found the lost bust in the family collection of Sir John Henry Schroder, who had purchased it in the 1890s, per the statement.

As a curator of Walpole’s former estate, Davoli was familiar with the politician’s correspondence with Mann and knew of the statue’s existence. She had also seen a drawing of it, which Walpole had commissioned from the artist John Carter. When she came across the bronze in Schroder’s collection, she was able to match it to Carter’s drawing.

Schroder doesn’t appear to have known what the statue was or where it came from. According to Strawberry Hill, the family’s collection catalogs refer to the piece as a “possible Renaissance bronze of a youth.”

“They had no idea it was Caligula,” Davoli tells the Guardian’s Richard Brooks. “I was so happy when I finally saw the bronze and made the link.”

Because the statue hadn’t become discolored over time, experts had previously assumed it dated to the 16th century. However, a recent analysis of the metal confirmed that the bronze is, in fact, ancient.

Dietrich Boschung, an expert on imperial Roman iconography at the University of Cologne in Germany, has since examined photos of the statue.

“I’m convinced it is Caligula,” Boschung tells the Guardian. For him, the statue’s piercing silver eyes are a dead giveaway—a common feature of Roman-era bronzes depicting emperors. He also finds it feasible that the piece was once at Herculaneum. “Around that time, many Roman bronzes were found there,” he adds.

To celebrate the discovery, Strawberry Hill will include the ancient bust in its upcoming exhibition, “The Art of Treasure Hunting.” Visitors can check out the tiny Caligula statue for themselves when the show opens on June 28.

By Julia Binswanger.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

The Song We Are Drawn Towards; Azul Ashengrotto

A song rests in the heart, calling out to the one who completes the harmony. Their match pulls at them, as the moon does the tide.

Main Character: Azul Ashengrotto

Supporting Roles: Mama Ashengrotto, Jade Leech & Floyd Leech

Content: Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match instead), gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort but comfort is only at the end, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic and that was done on purpose, wet cat Azul, 99% genuine fic 1% crack (actual math said 0.002%)

Content Warning: mentions of injury, brief mention of divorce (Mama Ashengrotto), self-doubt/self-loathing on Azul's part, mention of an age gap but there isn't one

Word Count: 5.5 K

Author's Note: Please do not repost my works to other websites or into AI software. I may or may not write parts for other characters; if you want to be tagged for those please let me know. I am not sorry for the ending. I switch between third and second-person point of view, if that bothers you, sorry. Spell check done by Grammarly. I wrote this in like one or two days, help.

Jade's Story | Floyd's Story

Once a year, during the week of the largest full moon, merfolk are forced out of the ocean at night, their aquatic halves melting into legs. The process itself was not a pleasant one, often described as stepping on broken glass for the entire duration. This annual week-long nightly excursion typically starts the year in which the merperson turns sixteen, corresponding with the age at which the mermaid made a deal with the Sea Witch to go on land and try to be with her soul match.

Some considered it as a blessing, as a chance to find their soul match beyond the waters they knew, to find the singer of the silent song that rested in their hearts. To find the person that they felt magnetically drawn towards, no matter the distance that separated them, like that of the moon and the tides. 

Others, however, viewed it as a curse, as there was a catch alongside the pain of walking. If their soul match happens to not be a merperson, one of the parties would have to leave their old life behind in order to be with the other. The surface dweller would have to trade their legs for fins, or the mer would have to trade their aquatic half for legs. Permanently. Such a steep price had some mers taking drastic measures to avoid that fate, not wanting to be forced to leave the life they knew behind or wanting their soul match to leave theirs, even if it meant they would both live their happiest years together. In the search for answers, some were able to concoct an elixir that would stop the transformation for that year. Unfortunately, there was also a drawback to it as well. If a mer were to take it for three years in a row, they would no longer be able to go on land, even with the aid of potions. They would be bound to the sea for their life. It is easy enough to avoid, but it was still tiresome.

But what of mers already living on land? What happens to them during this week? 

For those mers who call the land their home, they revert back to their merform during sunlight hours, regardless of how many potions or spells they may try. They only get their legs back when the sun sets and the moon rises. It is more of an inconvenience than anything else. 

And this cycle of returning to land would continue until they found their soul match, forged a bond with another, their match forged a bond with another or their match died. But they would feel when their match died the instant it happened, as the pull would stop and their inner song faded into silence. And for those who had lost their match, they were never the same again. It was considered as one of the most painful experiences a mer could live through.

Mers would be able to feel their soul match and hear their song by their sixth birthday. If they did not, it was often seen as a bad omen, as it was an extremely rare occurrence. And looks of pity and sadness were given when the child disclosed this information, but no one outside of their family would answer their questions.

… ... ...

Azul could not fall asleep, no matter how many songs his mother sang, or how many stories she told him. The little cecaelia stayed awake, his tentacles subconsciously mussing with blankets.

“Mama, what did it feel like for you?” He murmured, trying and failing to suppress a yawn, eyelids drooping. “Did it feel like the mermaid’s from the story? Can you tell me it?”

Miss Ashengrotto held onto her son’s little hand, rubbing her thumb gently across his palm. “Hm, well it felt like there was a rope tying me to someone. I couldn’t see or touch them, but I knew they were out there somewhere.” She hummed, placing a kiss on Azul’s forehead. “But it was the song,” she placed a hand on top of her heart and then placed one of her tentacles on Azul’s chest. “It sings from here, and in theirs is where the harmony is complete. It felt like…” A wistful sigh left her lips, “It felt like home. Not quite like the mermaid’s, but similar in a sense.” A soft smile graced her lips as she looked tenderly at her son. “And I met him six years ago. I met you, my little cuttlefish.”

Azul giggled at the nickname. “What about dad? I thought he was your soul match?”

“He’s not,” she frowned slightly, knowing that she would have to tell him eventually about the divorce, but not wanting him to go through what many children of divorce had to. Especially not now. “But that’s okay. We can love people who aren’t our soul matches. Plus soul matches can come in very many ways. They can be romantic, like the mermaid’s, friendships, or familial, like you and me. Some people even have more than one. For every person, there is a different kind of soul match, no two are the same.”

Azul leaned into his mother’s touch, and clung onto her side, “I love you, mama.”

“I love you most,” and she attacked his face with kisses and raspberries, making him squeal with laughter. “Now, you should really try and get some sleep, love. Tomorrow is your birthday after all!”

Azul wrapped himself into a blanket cocoon, “Okay, mama. Night night.”

Ms. Ashengrotto gave one final kiss to his forehead and turned off the light. “Sweet dreams, Azul.”

He looked towards the skylight, seeing the gentle light softly radiating from the full moon above. He wondered if they saw it too if his soul match was seeing the same beautiful moon that he was seeing now. He wondered if they felt like the warm gentle kisses of the sun's rays on skin, or perhaps the cool embrace of the moon’s light. Maybe they felt like something completely different. Azul let out a happy but nervous giggle and waved goodnight to the moon before falling into the land of dreams.

…

Azul woke up the next day, but his excitement morphed into worry and then panic. He didn’t feel the pull. He didn’t hear the song. He was supposed to wake up on his sixth birthday and feel the pull and hear his soul match’s song, but there was nothing. Nothing but silence and his own thoughts and racing heart. He buried himself back into his cocoon, tears starting to threaten to fall.

“Azul, honey?” His mother poked her head into his room and saw that he was still in his bed. “Come on, love, time to get up. I made your favourite breakfast! Azul?” Her chipper tone toned down as she heard the small sniffles, and instantly was at her son’s side, holding out her hand if he wanted to hold on to it. “I’m here if you want to talk, baby.”

Azul slowly pulled the blankets down, eyes bloodshot from crying, and a bit of ink leaking out. “It didn’t happen, mama,” his voice cracked, and he let out a little cough. “Why didn’t it happen?”

Ms. Ashengrotto wiped away some of the stray tears and gently held his face. “That…” she paused, trying to come up with something that would help him but also be true. “That happens sometimes, love. It doesn’t always happen exactly on everyone’s sixth birthday. It might mean that they aren’t here yet.”

Azul rubbed at his nose, “But Rielle said-”

“Tch, tch. Last time I checked Rielle is Rielle, and you are Azul, my sweet, smart, and charming Azul.” She placed a kiss on each cheek, earning a small giggle in return. “So ignore Rielle. It will happen eventually Azul. Besides, you’ll always have me. Now, would you like some breakfast as we wait?”

Azul grabbed onto his mother’s hand, “Maybe just a little…”

And they swam hand in hand towards the kitchen, but both of their minds and hearts weighed heavy at what this could possibly mean.

… ... ...

Azul sat at his desk in the Mostro Lounge VIP room, going over some contracts even though the new school year hadn’t even started yet. Normally, he would be more smug about the whole ordeal, but his mind was elsewhere, wandering. No matter what contract he tried to make to find his soul match, it would always lead to nothing, nothing but a bitter feeling and a restless night of sleep. Ever since he turned six all those years ago, he still hasn’t felt the magnetic pull or heard the song play in his heart that he overheard others talk excitedly about. Perhaps it was a lost cause… Perhaps he was meant to spend this lifetime alone… Perhaps he wasn’t good enough for someone despite all he has accomplished… 

A familiar rapping at the door caught his attention. Pulling himself out of his rapidly tunnel-visioning thoughts, Azul dusted himself off and straightened up his appearance. There’s no use in dwelling in the past and on what-ifs, there are more important dealings at hand. “Come in.”

“Azul, the carriages have started arriving,” Jade spoke, opening the door. 

Azul adjusted the hood on his robe and joined Jade in walking towards the mirror chamber in silence. Floyd was probably off somewhere looking for a source of amusement while the house wardens and vice wardens saw that their new underclassmen got situated. As long as he didn’t have to repay for damages he didn’t mind what shenanigans the other Leech twin got into since it could always be smoothed over at a later date. 

As he was walking down the stairs though, he nearly fell, pausing dead in his tracks and clutching onto the bannister. Something was pulling at him so strongly that he nearly toppled over. And he could hear singing so loud that he could almost hear nothing else save for his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. His soul match. He wasn’t alone. Everything else seemed to disappear, nothing else mattered. But the moment of shock, awe, and soul-shattering happiness of finally knowing that there was finally someone out there, broke. Shattered into a thousand pieces. If it was happening now that would mean… it would mean that his soul match just entered into the world. That happiness morphed into bitterness. He would be at least seventeen years their senior, and he instantly felt ill. 

Jade had noticed the odd behaviour and stood there waiting and watching. Seeing the different emotions flash across Azul’s eyes. “Hmm? Something the matter?” A coy smile slowly made its way onto his face, amused at whatever had caused the brief moment of clumsiness.

Azul’s face flushed blue, but he cleared his throat and continued on, ignoring the stare that was practically searing a hole at the back of his head. “Nothing for you to be concerned with,” he stated cooly. He was anything but cool though, quite the opposite really. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back to his office, even considering hiding away in his octopot after all of these years. Jade, however, did not need to be privy to any of this, lest Azul wanted to be teased for admitting to such a thing. “Now, let’s move along. We shouldn’t be late.”

The magnetic pull and song did not stop, if anything it kept on growing stronger. Azul had to grit his teeth to avoid his carefully crafted mask from falling. But there was a small part of him that wanted nothing more than to follow the pull, to find them. A part of him reasoned that soul matches were not always one type of relationship, some are purely platonic whereas others took on a more familial role, like what his mother told him many years ago. But no one was the wiser of his thoughts as he entered the mirror chamber, people more focused on first-day nerves and sorting out their new charges. 

“New students,” he started, putting on a welcoming yet calculating smile. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your achievement. As dorm leader of Octavinelle House, I am honoured to have the opportunity to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.” He looked around the new sea of faces that would call Octavinelle home. That’s odd though, the headmage seems to not be here.

Other dorm heads started muttering about the headmage’s absence, but soon enough he appeared, dragging along some grey creature and a new student in their robes. Azul winced, the song was deafening and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on what was being said.

But upon hearing, “I sense no magical powers from this one. Soundless. Colourless,” that piqued his interest and the song faltered slightly. “Shapeless. Utterly vacant. Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.”

But the moment of silence was ruined, trying into chaos, since the grey creature decided to get loose and spew blue fire everywhere.

“Everyone,” Riddle shouted, “get down!”

The others were not much help, taking to bickering amongst themselves or trying (and failing in some cases) to not get licked by the flames.

Azul cleared his throat, “Allow me to handle this, Headmage Crowley. If none of you are up to the task of catching a small animal, I will accept the responsibility.” He would recount to others that he remembered the proceedings of that day, but he would be lying, as he could only recount the pull and the song that made it hard to hear or focus on anything else. Even the snarky banter with Riddle was forgotten. It was only the song that occupied his thoughts.

… ...

The song had quietened since it first showed up, now just a constant humming in his head. The pull though would vary in strength, meaning that his soul match was closer to him. He wanted nothing more than to run to them, but he knew better than to go into this blindly. He told himself that he would wait for six years, and talk to their guardian about him being in their life as a familial bond. The only inkling that Azul was thinking all of this was the occasional far-off look in his eyes, or singing the same song under his breath.

“That’s new,” Jade hummed. 

Azul faltered, realizing that he had been singing his soul match’s song unknowingly. “I suppose it is,” he said, measuring his actions carefully. He knew that Jade would see through any lies he attempted, so he knew that telling the truth was a far better option. It would just have to be handpicked truths though, as to make sure not to lay everything bare, as he wasn’t ready for that yet. “I heard it recently and haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

Jade placed a cup of tea on the desk, careful to avoid any papers that were strewn about. “That so? I don’t recognize it.” His smile turned sharp, calculating, but he tampered it down to something more cold and polite. “Perhaps we can find the person who made this song?”

Azul stopped what he was doing, and looked at Jade with a raised brow. “There is no need for such… drastic measures,” he said, wanting nothing more than to hide away. Of course that damned eel would notice his off behaviour and put two and two together. “Besides,” he brushed himself off, “it would be foolish.”

“It would be foolish not to,” Jade replied. Soon the sharp smile returned, “Speaking of fools, there has been talk of the new Prefect of Ramshackle. Apparently, they have… won over Riddle and Leona. And they seem to keep rather interesting company as well. They seem intriguing.”

Azul pushed up his glasses and faintly recalled the face of the Ramshackle Prefect from the mirror chamber. “The magicless Prefect? And by company you mean those two first-years in Heartslabyul and that cat creature? Hmm, they did just sign these the other day.” He pulls out the three contracts, looking up at his friend(?), fellow business associate(?). “And that dorm, as… rustic as it is would work wonderfully for our latest business venture.” A small smug smile starts to bloom. “Let’s see how foolish they can be.”

… ... ...

When Azul overblotted, the song returned, practically screaming in his head, and the pull felt like he was next to a black hole. That’s all he really remembers from the incident, the rest of it being filled in by the others. But why was the song so loud? How was the pull so strong? He groaned, dragging his hands across his face. “Why is this happening,” he breathed out, staring up at the ceiling of his room. “Why now?”

And on top of all of this, the largest full moon of the year is happening next week, just his luck. At least the professors were understanding and gave the merfolk the week off of studies, and even if they could attend classes, everyone would have been too distracted to focus on the subject material. Perhaps he could take this week and work on revising the Lounge’s menu.

He sighed, it was no use trying to get any sleep at this rate. “Sea Witch,” he huffed, “why did you spin me this fate?” No one answered, just the calm light of the moon falling down from above, painting everything in cool silvers and blues. Perhaps a walk around campus would help clear his swimming thoughts and allow him to at least get a few hours of decent sleep before his first class of the day.

As he walked through the empty halls, Azul hummed the song that never ceased in his mind. He let the gentle pull of his soul match guide him. He knew it would lead somewhere, and he would stop himself from going any further if he felt it get too strong. What he wasn’t expecting was to hear someone else humming the exact tune, the same lyrics, harmonizing perfectly with his, echoing off of the corridors from out of site.

Both parties stopped. The gentle tugging now felt like a gravitational pull. And Azul was conflicted; should he continue ahead or turn back? His soul match had just happened this year, if they had indeed just entered into this world they shouldn’t be here, at the college, let alone at this hour. And by the tone of their humming, he would guess that they were around his age, not an infant as he first thought. Then why did it take so long for the song and pull to happen? What did that mean?

But the hurried footsteps which fled in the opposite direction of him were an indicator enough; they weren’t ready. They didn't want to meet him.

A lump formed in his throat. His soul match was here? For all this time? At the school? A slight panic arose. Did they know? Were they able to tell who he was based on the faint humming? Is that why they ran away? Because they knew and wanted nothing to do with him? After all this time why should he think any differently? Of course, his soul match would choose to run away from him.  Why wouldn’t they? After his overblot, he wouldn’t expect them to stay. If he were them, he would have run away as well, far far away. He couldn’t blame them. He would have run away from himself too.

… ... ...

The week of the full moon came far sooner than Azul would have wanted. Instead of going home as many of the others did, he stayed, holing himself up in one of the private pools in the Octavinelle dorm during the day or his office when nighttime came around. Of course, he wasn’t so lucky to be the only one who stayed. Jade and Floyd had stayed to ‘keep him company’, but he knew that they only stayed to tease him even though they had their soul matches out there somewhere.

“Jade told me that you’ve been humming a little song,” speak of one the devils. Floyd poked his head into the crevice that Azul had crammed himself into at the deep end of the pool. “So you’ve been hiding the little siren song from us, that’s not fairr!~ Come on, sing, Azul!”

Azul glared at the intruding twin, “It has nothing for you to be concerned with.” He tried to push Floyd out of his personal space, but he just took it as a challenge to try and shimmy his way in further. “I don’t meddle in your… affairs,” he hissed, finally having enough of the meddling eel-mer and punching him in the gut with a tentacle, shooting him out of the rocky cavern and his personal space. “Now leave me alone!”

“Eh? Tch, whatever, you’re no fun like this, moping about,” Floyd pouted. His eyes soon lit up though, and he turned to his brother who was lurking in the background. “We should grab Little Shrimpy tonight! I wonder how they would react if we pulled them in for a swim?~”

Jade chuckled, “Their reaction would be quite amusing I imagine.” He swam over to Azul’s hiding crevice, and shot him a look that he knew too well; he was planning something, something that was sure to give him a headache.

Floyd swam about excitedly, twisting and turning, turning up the sand at the bottom and clouding up the water. “Swimming with Shrimpyyyy,” he sang with glee. “Heh heh, wonder if Shrimpy has their own song?~ Eh, but humans only have the song if their match is a mer…”

Azul groaned, what with Floyd’s babbling and the song being stubbornly loud today, he could feel the beginnings of a migraine. Why couldn’t there be large enough pools in their bedrooms so he could avoid all of this? “Seven’s, put me out of my misery,” he grumbled to himself. 

“Ah, Azul,” Jade tutted, “we can’t have that now. After all, your match is around here, somewhere.” That earned the eel a tentacle punch as well, much like his brother. “No need to be rude now. We’re just trying to help is all.” But that smug shit-eating grin of his said otherwise. “Floyd, let’s go, the sun is setting. We’ll retrieve the Prefect closer to dawn.”

And finally, Azul was left alone. But the brief moment of peace was broken, hissing in pain. The transformation was happening. Upon completion, he poked his head out, making sure that the coast was clear before making his way towards his office and bolting the door shut. “At last,” he sighed, sagging against one of the sofas. “Some peace and quiet.”

As he busied himself with revising contracts, the day’s earnings, and going over notes on what subject matter to study for an upcoming test. But he wasn’t all there. Despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the song, and the tugging was strongest during this week. But after that night, when he heard them run away, he didn’t know if he wanted to find them anymore. What if this… whatever it is that the Sea Witch gave him, wasn’t right? He could have been content eventually, content with knowing that he didn’t have a soul match out there. But this, knowing and having one but having heard them run away before he could properly meet them? That was almost worse. He would always know that they were out there, and they had run away before even really getting to know him. Could they have been happy? Could they have been a friend? Could they have been like family? Could they have been… in love?

Eventually, he had to return to the pool, as he didn’t want anyone seeing him crawl back in his mer-form. When he got back he noticed the twins were still gone, but they would be back eventually, so he took this time to properly stretch out. Yes, being in tight spaces gave him a sense of security, but it felt nice to stretch out his tentacles and relax without worrying about someone interrupting him or making a rude comment. It felt nice to take up space.

“Come on, Shrimpy!” Floyd’s yelling alerted him, and he quickly went down to his hiding crevice before he was spotted. “Let’s go for a swim!~”

The door to the pool room opened with a loud bang, Floyd carrying the Ramshackle Prefect over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Even from under the water, Azul could hear them shrieking in protest. “FLOYD! Put me down!”

He hid further in his hiding spot, not wanting them to see him like this. He also clutched his hands over his ears, the song only increasing more and more. And the tugging at his soul grew even stronger.

Jade was of no help, just watching the chaos ensue. You shot him a glare, but he just chuckled at the action.

“Eh? Okay then, Shrimpy, if you insist,” Floyd got that familiar glean in his eyes, the kind that meant no good.

 “Floyd, do not throw me! Don’t you dare throw me,” but he had already made the decision for you, and you could do nothing to stop him. He threw you into the pool, following suit by splashing in after you, drenching Jade in the process who shot his twin the side eye. “Why?” You seethed.

Floyd swam up beside you, now in his mer-form. “Cuz it’s more fun like this,” he sang, poking your cheek with the tip of a claw. “Right, Jade?!”

Jade was now also in the pool and swimming towards you. “While I wouldn’t personally throw them in, it was quite amusing.”

“You two are awful,” you sighed, giving into your fate. Despite being just thrown in, the water was quite pleasant but you wouldn’t admit it, since they would tease you mercilessly. Jade chuckled, and Floyd gave you a large smile, but neither of them denied the statement. 

You went and laid on your back, floating and staring at the ceiling. To others, it would look like you were relaxing, but you did this not to relax, but rather to stay afloat. As you felt like an anchor was trying to pull you into the dark depths of the pool. There was nothing pulling you down physically though, and other odd things have also happened since you showed up at Night Raven College. Yes, a world filled with magic, merfolk, fae, and beastmen was quite the shocker, but none of that explained why you felt like something was always pulling you towards something, and the same song kept on playing in your head. And now, alongside the pulling, it was the loudest it has ever been, even louder than during Azul’s overblot when it felt like it was rupturing your eardrums. But it was more pleasant this time, not painful.

You hummed, “Just curious, but does everyone hear… a song in their head on repeat all the time?”

Floyd stopped splashing about and was in your face in a millisecond. “SHRIMPYYY!!!” And he tackled you into a hug that would definitely be leaving some bruises later. You should have been used to this kind of behaviour, but you still winced with him nearly screaming in your ear and the pressure of his squeezing. 

Jade had also swam into your personal bubble, eyes filled with curiosity. “Oh, that’s rather strange. Have you always heard this little song of your’s, Prefect?”

You wiggled out of Floyd’s grasp, sputtering out some wayward water that had managed to get into your mouth, leaving behind the taste of salt. “No,” you grimaced, spitting out some more water. “Which is why I’m asking.”

Azul peered up, this exchange catching his attention, but still kept himself hidden.

“It means you have a soul match!~” Floyd giggled.

You frowned, “A soul match? Never heard of that.”

“A soul match is something rather common here,” Jade said. “For humans, it is quite rare. It is far more common in beastmen, fae and merfolk. The fact that you have such a bond is…” he paused for a moment, “rather interesting.”

You heaved yourself out of the water, as you didn’t feel comfortable staying in the pool what with the pulling and the off chance that it did eventually pull you underwater never to surface again. “Cryptic as always, Jade,” you raise a brow at the eel-mer. “Just answer the question please.”

Jade put a hand over his heart, “Oh, how you wound me.” He saw you roll your eyes, and he decided to elaborate on your request. “Mers are gifted soul matches by the Sea Witch. A song rests in the heart, calling out to the one who completes the harmony. Their match pulls at them, as the moon does the tide.” He leaned in close, eyes flashing. “So, to answer your question, Prefect-”

“Shrimpy’s match is a mer!!!” Floyd interrupted with glee, throwing his arms out, splashing you in the process. 

Jade sighed at his brother’s antics. “Which is what I was going to say before you interrupted me, but he is correct. You have a soul match with a mer.”

You blinked in confusion. You, with a merperson? “But why? How,” you questioned, looking at your reflection in the water. Why me?

“That, I believe, is for you to discover on your own,” Jade hummed. You shot him the side eye. “Oh, don’t give me such a look, Prefect, you know I can’t give away everything. Besides,” he peered down into the depths, “if you follow the tug, and sing the song, you will find them eventually.”

With that, Jade dove into the depths, calling Floyd to follow him. You were left alone at the edge of the pool, with nothing else to accompany you but your dripping clothes and racing thoughts. And of course, the song that played in your head.

… ...

Somehow that night, Jade and Floyd had managed to pry Azul away from his desk and paperwork.

“Leave me alone,” he protested, glaring at them. “Go look for your soul matches without me!”

Floyd flung his arm across Azul’s shoulder, effectively trapping him into joining along. “But Azulll, we should find them together!~” Why did he insist on being so? So?! So annoying?! “Plus, I wanna see the look on your face when you see them for the first time! Maybe you’ll turn blue, or even spew ink!~”

Why did he befriend these two again? “I will do no such thing!” His voice cracked, going up an octave and he felt his face flush. And Floyd wore an even larger grin, poking at his cheek.

“See! Already proving to be fun!” He ran ahead suddenly, leaving Azul alone with Jade. 

Azul massaged his temple, trying to regain whatever composure he had left. Didn’t he just say they would be searching for their soul matches together? Why in the Sea Witch’s name did he just run off without them? 

Jade walked behind him, making sure he couldn’t just return back to his office and hide for the night. “Floyd is just a bit excitable is all,” he answered Azul’s silent question. But he knew that the eel was plotting something.

The pulling was getting stronger, and the song blocked out everything else. Azul had to close his eyes and dig his nails into his hands. He was not running away. He wasn’t the same little octo-mer that hid away from the world. 

Just as soon as he had left, Floyd was back, and he had a tag-along. “And Shrimpy is joining us in the hunt!~”

Without thinking, both Azul and you stepped forward, being drawn together by an invisible force. And suddenly everything was silent. Sing. Azul’s mouth opened and shut, but nothing came out. He didn’t have to start though, as you sang the first notes, and he joined in. The two of you stood there, humming your harmony. And all those thoughts that plagued his mind earlier vanished, knowing that you were the right one. That the Sea Witch knew that you were the only one for him.

…

Bonus!

Jade and Floyd looked at the two of you curiously, with Jade having to hold back Floyd from interrupting the tender moment.

“Wondering if Shrimpy will stay human or decide to turn into a mer,” Floyd whispered to Jade. “Would they be a shrimp or octo-mer, to match with Azul?”

Jade turned his attention away from the two soul matches, “That’s for them and Azul to decide, we shouldn’t meddle.”

Floyd shot him a pout, “But when you meddle it’s fine? How did you even know they were soul matches in the first place?”

“It wasn’t all that hard,” he quipped. “I heard the Prefect sing some of the lyrics under their breath, and I also heard Azul quietly singing them as well.”

“See, meddling.~” Floyd looked at his brother expectantly, “Well, what were they?”

Jade looked at you and Azul, still humming the song to each other, a soft smile coming to rest on his face. “I believe it was, ‘Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down.’ Quite sweet if you think about it.”

Floyd also smiled, looking at the two soul matches. “Heh, it suits them.~”

. . . . .

Fin!

Now I dare you to read this again, knowing full well what the song is, because I swear it will make you see it in a different light and have you cracking up in parts. Please don't kill me, love you!

Link to Masterlist

[thebadgerclan]

Sister

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sister!reader 

Summary: No one knew that Kaz had a sister...

Idk why or how I came up with this, but I loved the idea too much not to write

Also third person just fit this one lol, I’m not the biggest fan, but let me know what you guys think

No one knew that Kaz Brekker had a sister, few people even knew about his older brother.  But he had: back when he was Kaz Rietveld, the only thing on his mind being whether he could convince Jordie to buy him a hot chocolate, there had been a third Rietveld.  Jordie, the eldest, entrusted with his father’s fortune, Kaz, the impressionable, joyful young boy, and Y/N, only a year Kaz’s junior.

When the firepox came, and Kaz succumbed to the fever, she had as well.  And when Kaz woke to find Jordie cold beneath his touch, her body had been nowhere in sight.  Was she dead, or had she somehow survived?  It was easier to assume the former, for Kaz to forge ahead alone in the world.  All three Rietveld siblings died then, but only Kaz was reborn, vengeance burning like an inferno in his heart.  For Jordie, for Y/N, he would bring Ketterdam to its knees.

Years later, Kaz would learn that she had indeed survived.  After the plague had passed, a pair of Ravkan nobles arrived in Ketterdam, offering to take in the orphans the firepox had created.  “It was a Ravkan ship that brought it,” they said.  “If our country can give these children a life, then we will take them.”  She’d been one of the first children taken, adopted by the Duke and Duchess themselves.  Y/N had been raised in Ravka: learned their language, their customs, their faith.  And when she came of age, she was presented to court, as all the children of nobility were, to make a good marriage.  

Y/N had been lucky.  She had not only made an advantageous match, but she’d found true love as well.  Her new husband doted on her night and day, granting her every wish.  And when she wished to discover whether her brothers had survived the Queen’s Lady Plague all those years ago, she discovered her husband had many connections in which to obtain that information.

It hadn’t been easy, but Y/N’s husband had found him.  Kaz wasn’t a common name, after all.  When he’d received the letter, he’d thought it a joke, but as he read on, he realized the letter contained details that no one but his sister could have known.  Kaz, it said.  If you’re reading this, then I want you to know that I’m alive.  I was adopted and taken to Ravka after the firepox passed.  If I’d have known you survived, I would have insisted they take you too.  But I had no clue where you were or if you and Jordie had made it.

I want you to know that I’m alive, that I’m safe.  Life in Ravka has been good to me; I’m married now!  Saints, I think you’d adore my husband, the two of you are exactly the same.  At least… how I remember you to be.  Please, Kaz, write back to me.  Let me know that you’re alive, that you’ve survived, that I haven’t been mourning you for no reason for 15 years.  I’m afraid I can’t disclose too much about my life in writing, but if you give a letter to a woman named Lila at the Ravkan embassy, she’ll ensure it gets to me.  I love you, brother, time has not changed that.  -Y/N.

There had been no last name affixed, no address, so naturally, Kaz’s interest was piqued.  For months, he corresponded with her through Lila, learning more about who she was,  her life in Ravka, and who she’d married.  It interested him not only because the information might be useful one day, but because Y/N was family, she was his sister.  Indeed, the information was useful, as Kaz and his Crows had been tasked with a nearly impossible job.

A Shu priest had hired Kaz to steal what she claimed was a relic of Sankt Kho, one that had been taken from the temples of Amhrat Jen decades ago.  But, as Nina so aptly pointed out, breaking into the Grand Palace’s religious archives would break at least a dozen Ravkan laws.  “We’d be arrested immediately and labeled as heretics as well as criminals.  The Apparat himself would try to oversee our executions.”

“I have a way around that,” Kaz had said, but Nina wasn’t convinced.  “Do you?  I know your tricks Kaz.  Those archives are guarded day and night, there’s one way in and one way out, no windows, no secondary escapes.  Do you think you can waltz right in and take Sankt Kho’s relic?”  “Not quite waltz, but yes.”  The Heartrender snarled.  “Short of a letter from the Queen of Ravka, there’s no possible way you can get in there alone.  Do you have that, Kaz?”

“Actually I do.”  Jesper, Inej, and Wylan looked on with disbelief.  “All Saints, you can admit defeat, you know?  We won’t judge you!”  Kaz pulled a letter from his coat and tossed it on the table.  It bore the Lantsov seal and the Queen’s signature, and Nina gaped.  “And how did you manage to get your hands on this?”  Kaz, if there’s ever anything you need, know that I will use the full extent of my powers to help you.  I couldn’t help you before, brother, so let me help you now.  Of course, if it’s blatant murder, then I’ll have to deny.  We can’t have the Queen of Ravka tied up in a homicide, now can we?  “Because,” Kaz said, hesitant to reveal this, the ace up his sleeve, his final secret.  “She’s my sister.”

[the-girl-who-didnt-smile]

Human Alastor (FTM trans headcanon)

Full size image

Commentary below:

Here, Alastor is shown at four different stages of his human life:

Childhood - around 12 years old

“Voodoo Killer” - late teenage years

Jazz Musician - early 20s

Radio Star - later adulthood to time of death

His career as a serial killer started when he was around 12 years old and continued up until his death.

The three stages of his adult life are supposed to correspond with different aspects of his demon form’s hairstyle.

During the “Voodoo Killer” stage, he straightened his hair and styled it similarly to his demon form’s hairstyle. However, he did not have an undershave. If viewed from the back, it would look like a simple bob. His appearance is inspired by Clementine Barnabet. I intended for his tignon to be tied in a similar manner to Clementine’s. Additionally, the bandages wrapped around his legs are meant to make him look a little like Voodoo Queen Lala from the 1930s. I gave him bandages instead to make him look like more of an edge lord (lol). The cross worn was originally his mother's. After she died, he painted it black in mourning. He wears it at all times, up until his death, to remember her.

During the “Jazz Musician” stage, he kept his hair short in order to pass for male. This is supposed to correspond with the back side of Alastor’s demon form, which is shaved short. His appearance is inspired by Jelly Roll Morton, one of my favorite Jazz musicians, who also happens to be Creole. Not visible in this pose, but Al wore black gloves that match the color of his hair. 

During the “Radio Star” stage, several aspects of Alastor’s appearance are inspired by the late, great Cab Calloway. Like Cab, Alastor styled his hair in a conk. His suit is also inspired by the iconic white suit worn by Cab Calloway.

That being said, creative liberties were taken with Al’s white suit, which is anachronistic for the 1930s. Cab famously wore zoots, but I don’t think that would be Alastor’s style. Since I know so little about 1930s fashion, I gave up and didn’t attempt to give him a historically accurate suit. Instead, his tuxedo is based on the one he wore in the pilot. There are several anachronisms present in Alastor’s canon design, so it might actually fit his character to wear a suit atypical of the 1930s. This could preserve the otherworldly, “Willy Wonka”-esque presence that he has, even on Earth. Still, it’s a pretty glaring historical inaccuracy. Once we get to see Al’s canon human form, I might redesign him.

Since Alastor would have more than one suit, I didn’t worry too much about the inaccuracies present in his clothing. The one thing I refused to compromise on was his microphone.  In the TV show, Alastor’s iconic microphone is a vintage ribbon mic. However, this “pill capsule” style looks more similar to models that were only invented after Alastor’s death. Here’s an example of a ribbon mic that was rolled out shortly before Alastor’s death: The RCA Type 77-A. As you can see, it’s a lot larger in size than Alastor’s microphone.

My first attempt at drawing human Alastor gave him a ribbon mic, seen here: https://www.deviantart.com/thegirlwhodidntsmile/art/Human-Alastor-ribbon-mic-1035514228

In order to be more historically accurate, I discarded this design. Instead, I gave him a spring microphone, technology that is more iconic of the 1920s/1930s. 

Here’s an image of Cab Calloway in front of a spring microphone, one year after Alastor’s death:

I took some creative liberties with the flag of Alastor’s microphone. Normally, it is supposed to say the radio station. Since I don’t know what radio station Al’s show aired on, I just had it read “ON AIR” in red.

Importantly, Alastor’s suit has to match the design of his microphone, which is an extension of himself.

It’s a little awkward how Alastor is holding his microphone, so here is how it looks from the back: https://www.deviantart.com/thegirlwhodidntsmile/art/Human-Alastor-back-of-mic-1035514255

The backside of the microphone is supposed to look like an eye, and have a bit of an ominous presence.

A headcanon I have is that Alastor had a severe case of stress-induced vitiligo. Because he was very egotistical, this was a source of shame for him, so he hid it with makeup and clothing. Here is how his face would have appeared shortly before his death: https://www.deviantart.com/thegirlwhodidntsmile/art/Human-Alastor-no-makeup-1035514264

Al’s colors are mostly browns, whites, and black, to keep with the deer theme. The black tips of his shoes are supposed to look a bit like deer hooves. I pictured his height as 5’10, one inch taller than Michael Dillon. Since the average male height was around 5’7, Al was still taller than most men, which made it easier to pass for male.

In addition to Clementine Barnabet, Jelly Barnabet, and Cab Calloway, FTM Al’s appearance is largely inspired by the famous biracial drag king Stormé DeLarverie.

I picture Alastor having a darker complexion than Stormé, or Cab Calloway for that matter. Compared to Stormé, his nose and eyes are different (his eyes are supposed to have the same shape as his mother’s. distinctly African, not European at all) but his mouth, jawline, and overall facial structure are similar. He’s basically supposed to be a much less white-passing version of Stormé DeLarverie. Because he was born around year 1900, Al would not have had access to any form of medical transition. He would be physically indistinguishable from a cisgender drag king.

I also picture his physical build being pretty similar, but he’s taller (I’m not sure how tall Stormé was, but I don’t think she was 5’10) and skinnier. He’s supposed to have a really striking appearance, where he’s really slender but really tall for someone born in his time, and he has an androgynous face.

In my more recent drawings, the drag king Alberta “Bert” Whitman has also served as visual inspiration for human Alastor:

Bonus image:

https://www.deviantart.com/thegirlwhodidntsmile/art/Alastor-kill-count-1035514155

[officialclangen]

I don't know if this'll be helpful to all the folks who want to see dead cats' relationships, but there is a way of keeping that information that I use all the time. It only works if a cat has just died, though. So:

Step 0: Before you start doing things in Clangen, keep your data directory open in the background. This is accessed from the main menu by going to "setting + info" and then in the bottom left corner "open data directory." You can access your saves in the "saves" folder. Just keep this tab open in the background as you play.

Step 1: Oh no! You have JUST gotten the message that a cat has died, either on moon change or patrol. But remember! None of these changes are retained until you save. As long as you don't save, that cat's relationship info is still acessible! Do NOT close out of Clangen, and do NOT save.

Simply open that tab from earlier with the data directory. In your "saves" folder, you will see folders for all of your clans. Open the folder for the Clan you're playing right now.

Step 2: There should be a file in this folder called "clan_cats.json." Open it. If it asks how you want to open it, Notepad is perfectly fine to use and everybody's got it. This file is where information like your cat's appearance and traits are kept, but we're looking for something a lot more simple here.

Step 3: Look for the cat that just died and write down/remember its ID. You can cntrl+F a cat's prefix or suffix on its own to find them easier, but you will not find them if you cntrl+F their full name because prefix and suffix are on separate lines. Once you've found the dead cat's name, you will see a line above the prefix and the suffix listing its ID. This number is important because it is what identifies the cat in relationship files.

Step 4: Close out of "clan_cats.json" (and of it asks if you want to save changes, say no; we're not looking to make changes here, but maybe you accidentally pressed a key while searching for your cat, it happens; so just don't save when you close out), OR minimize it/keep it in the background.

Then, still within the "saves" folder for your clan, go into the "relationships" folder and look for the json file with the ID of the cat that just died-- the number you recorded/recall from the previous step. For example, if the ID for your dead cat is 913, the file you want is "913_relations.json"

You can either open this file right now or copy and paste it somewhere else so you can access it later. I prefer to copy/paste it to a separate folder on my flashdrive where I store all of the Clangen notes I take.

This file is basically all of the information on your dead cat's relationships, just laid out less prettily than in-game Clangen. It even keeps a log of moon change interactions this cat has had. But everything here is laid out using cats' IDs instead of their names. You can sometimes see who is who by taking note of any moon change interactions in the log, but some of the time if you want to understand which cats the info is for, you'll have to go back to your "clan_cats.json" from earlier and reference the IDs listed. Every cat, dead or alive, can be found in "clan_cats.json" but when a cats dies and you save your game, its corresponding ID_relations.json is deleted.

I would highly recommend against keeping copies of dead cat relations.json files long term. It is a lot of bloat that can add up fast, and it can get hard to find the particular file you want if you keep building a bigger and bigger pile of files. I personally prefer to keep this file copied in a separate folder until I'm ready to write any major notes on what's been happening in my Clan. Then, I open it up as well as "clan_cats.json", and I write down any final notes on that dead cat's relationships, tabbing over to clan_cats.json to cntrl+F any IDs I need to match up with names. When I've written down all the info I need, I finally delete the copy of the dead cat's relations.json. But regardless...

Step 5: Whatever you've decided to do with your recently deceased cat's relations.json file, whether you've taken any notes you need to take already or saved a copy for later, now is when you can finally go back to playing Clangen and officially save your game.

Remember! Once you save your game, the relations.json of your newly dead cat will be deleted from your Clan's save file! So once again: make sure you've written down any info you'd like from that file or made a copy before you save.

This was probably way too long-winded, but I wanted to make it as easy as possible to follow along! Hope it helped somebody!

Posting for y'all to have as reference!! Very smart, I hadn't thought of that myself

☆ Fable ☆

[lavelans]

so i got to rewatch the fall of the house of usher today since some friends wanted to watch it and picked up on some things i didn’t notice before (some of these might be obvious but i just like pointing things out!)

1. we already know that the lighting shifts to that particular usher’s representative color during their death scene, but what i didn’t notice on my first watch was that not only do their wardrobes correspond with their colors, their furniture and home/work environments are in the same color too! (and when they’re not wearing that color they’re wearing a color that’s one step adjacent on the color wheel)

the most obvious is camille’s white, but i noticed this time prospero’s red car and jacket when he gives his first business proposal, the red suit he wears to the meeting with frederick.

i also noticed leo wearing a lot of yellow, the lights outside his apartment, the box he keeps his drugs in and the sofa he finds the dead cat behind are all yellow (he also mentions taking yellow pills).

victorine also wears a lot of orange, and so are the scrubs she and al wear in the operating room, the shelves in her office and the fruits on her dinner table at home.

tamerlane is another obvious one, with all the green she wears, but i also noticed there’s a green neon sign outside her apartment, and bill’s BILLT gym also had green accents.

and frederick wears a LOT of blue, i would say maybe he’s the third most obvious? his house has a lot of blue aquariums, and the room he keeps his wife in is blue as well. morrie also wore a blue dress when she went to perry’s party. and not 100% sure if this was intentional but the folder perry drops off at his house was blue too.

1a. bonus detail i noticed, what verna wears when she appears to each of the siblings just before they die also matches up with their respective colors. the red cape with perry, the white security guard uniform with camille, her uniform when she comes to leo’s apartment to pick up the cat, the green dress when she appears as tammy’s double and the blue vest she wears during freddie’s death. vic’s is a stretch but she wears a light orange cardigan when she meets with her and asks to talk to dr. ruiz.

1b. another bonus detail! perry’s party was lit mostly in blue before the lighting turned red just before he died, which visually ties it back to freddie’s death later on. freddie’s and perry’s deaths were already narratively intertwined, with morrie’s choice to go to the party triggering the events that caused freddie to slowly grow more and more paranoid and cruel throughout the series, ultimately leading up to his death in the same place. i just think it’s cool that this narrative connection is also reinforced visually.

2. when verna first arrives at tammy’s place as candy, she speaks with a uk accent, but as soon as the roleplay starts she shifts to an american accent and does an uncanny as fuck impression of samantha sloyan’s performance as tamerlane (which, CARLA GUGINO??? you LEGEND) (also as a non american who generally does not hear american accents outside of tv and movies, the accent switch did not register to me on my first watch lmao)

3. in the last episode, verna places the items on each usher’s gravestone carefully, you could even say with respect, EXCEPT for frederick’s cocaine packet (which she just unceremoniously drops onto the gravestone LMAO as he deserves). it does match the speech she gives him during his death. for the usher siblings she was sometimes kind but generally neutral when she spoke, always offering them chances to say no, but with little remorse when they fail to prevent their own gruesome deaths. EXCEPT for frederick, for whom her spiel is absolutely dripping with contempt for him.

4. minor detail, but in 1980 when verna was talking to the twins about putting their drinks on their tab, she says ‘buy now, pay later’ which basically foreshadows the deal the two of them later make with her. ‘buy now’ meaning saying yes to getting away with all the illegal stuff they did throughout the years, and ‘pay later’ with the lives of his entire lineage.

[emhm]

I HAVE A QUESTION, ITS OK IF THERE'S NO ANSWER, BUT WHAT WOULD THE CHARACTERS IN EMHM WEAR/DO FOR HALLOWEEN. (NOT LITTERAL IN THE STORY BUT JUST LIKE FOR FUN) I WANNA SEE IF I CAN DRAW THEM FOR HALLOWEEN SKETCHES IF THAT'S OK. IF NOT THEN THAT'S ALRIGHT, AND I WISH I HAPPY AND GAY DAYS TO COME OuO

OKAY, so this isn't a direct answer but I guess it is something I was considering last night. I have set up a bit of spooky Daycare and some of the eclipse's in particular do correspond to certain types of archetype monsters.

-Our main Starboy Eclipse is a werewolf - always fighting his violent impulses. -[OG Eclipse] Firefly is a zombie - barely clinging to life -[Version 4 Eclipse] Veefur is a tragic Frankenstein's monster with Ruin as his mad creator -Lord Eclipse is the mummy - something frighteningly old and powerful that should have died a long time ago, but is animated by an outer force [SSun could be his head cultist] -[Killcode] Kc is an eldritch Lovecraftian horror, just a general nightmare creature. -Nisshoku is the creature from the Black Lagoon. Blue for water and be-tentacled but really just desperate for love. -Ek1ips3 is a more modern monster, the sentient computer glitch.exe Probably throws on some cyberpunk gear

-Old Moon would be Mothman with his omen of doom [all the problems he personally caused] -Sunny is just a classic sheet ghost -Harvest and Bloody are the vampires -JackOMoon is a haunted scarecrow

For the ones that would just be a chosen costume based on personality-

-Earth would dress up like a 60s hippie -Lunar would be a superhero -Sun would go for a Van Helsing Witcher style to match Eclipse. His original idea would have been to just go as moon or a bad mask of the actual moon so Eclipse could howl at him. -Moon and Solar would also pick something matching that's slightly dorky and generic like a 3-prong plug and an outlet -Moonlit and Sunlo pick Disney prince and princess matching costumes. As for do? Probably a party. Or at least watch horror movies in the theater. Not much point in going trick or treating since the twins can't eat the candy. Jack would be the only one and he'd rather just play with everyone else.

[bethanydelleman]

Northanger Abbey Readthrough Ch 31

Whew, I have reached the end. That was a lot of work. We'll see if I do another one of these...

but as nothing, after all, could be more natural than Catherine’s being beloved

Awwwww...

Also, the Morlands 🤝Jane Bennet, believing that their beloved person will obviously be beloved by others:

Miss Bennet’s astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly natural -Pride & Prejudice, Ch 40 (This is when Elizabeth tells Jane about Darcy's first proposal)

having never heard evil of him, it was not their way to suppose any evil could be told.

This becomes a really big deal in Sense & Sensibility, Pride & Prejudice, and Persuasion, Elinor is constantly asking for more information about Willoughby, Meryton's not knowing about Wickham's character causes havoc, and Mr. Elliot is another case of hidden information revealing his character. Fortunately for Catherine, Henry is perfect.

Now, Henry may have been cut off from his father, but he's by no means poor, Of a very considerable fortune, his son was, by marriage settlements, eventually secure; his present income was an income of independence and comfort, and under every pecuniary view, it was a match beyond the claims of their daughter. It sounds like Woodston is a very good living, probably similar to Edmund's £800/year, so Henry is fully independent without any help from his father. It sounds like he will also inherit a portion of his mother's dowry when his father dies. Catherine bagged a catch! (without knowing it)

Henry returned to what was now his only home, to watch over his young plantations, and extend his improvements for her sake, to whose share in them he looked anxiously forward; and Catherine remained at Fullerton to cry. Whether the torments of absence were softened by a clandestine correspondence, let us not inquire. Mr. and Mrs. Morland never did—they had been too kind to exact any promise; and whenever Catherine received a letter, as, at that time, happened pretty often, they always looked another way.

Oh it's so cute. I can't even. But also, I WANT TO READ THOSE LETTERS!!!! Cruel Authoress, Jane Austen, giving me that tease. I want to read Henry Tilney sending little Gothic stories to Catherine with subtle sexual undertones...

Anyway

Then the narrator is like, "It's obviously the end of the novel, so you know this will resolve soon." Ah yes, so we do. Excellent observation.

Eleanor marries Lord Laundry List and paves the way for Catherine to get her man. This explanation of it is just so good:

I have only to add—aware that the rules of composition forbid the introduction of a character not connected with my fable—that this was the very gentleman whose negligent servant left behind him that collection of washing-bills, resulting from a long visit at Northanger, by which my heroine was involved in one of her most alarming adventures.

To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen is to do pretty well

The narrator really comes back in this last chapter and teases us with this immoral "moral" message:

and professing myself moreover convinced that the General’s unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled, by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience.

Lady Catherine plays this same role in Pride & Prejudice, as an aside. But yes, is the moral of this story that parental tyrants are good for love, or that being a rebellious son is rewarded? Either way, not the sort of moral a good, upstanding citizen should want.

What more can I say? I love this novel. It's so relatable, it's so human, the characters are so well drawn even though they are parodies! I want to be Catherine's best friend but I also want to steal her husband. General Tilney needs to fall down a staircase (a recently renovated one).

[spaceorphanssecondbreakfastclub]

SO's Bookclub : To Sir Phillip, With Love

Title: To Sir Phillip, With Love Author: Julia Quinn Genre: Romance

Goodreads Summary :

Sir Phillip knew from his correspondence with his dead wife's distant cousin that Eloise Bridgerton was a spinster, and so he'd proposed, figuring that she'd be homely and unassuming, and more than a little desperate for an offer of marriage. Except . . . she wasn't. The beautiful woman on his doorstep was anything but quiet, and when she stopped talking long enough to close her mouth, all he wanted to do was kiss her...

Eloise Bridgerton couldn't marry a man she had never met! But then she started thinking... and wondering... and before she knew it, she was in a hired carriage in the middle of the night, on her way to meet the man she hoped might be her perfect match. Except... he wasn't. Her perfect husband wouldn't be so moody and ill-mannered. And he certainly should have mentioned that he had two young - and decidedly unruly - children, as much in need of a mother as Phillip is in need of a wife.

Review :

I went into this one with a bit of trepidation. Not only is there the bittersweetness that we're now in a post Romancing Mister Bridgerton world, but in all the ranking lists I've seen online, this one is usually near the bottom. So, I expected it to be bad. It really wasn't -- or at least wasn't any worse than any of the rest of them. The quality of these books, really, have been the most consistent thing.

I do think this book is difficult coming from someone who enjoys the character on the show -- as I would never want any part of this book to happen to that Eloise.

The plot is pretty simple -- after her bff and her brother get married, Eloise is feeling kind of alone, and jets off to this guy she's casually writing to since his wife died. He's a widower and has two kids, and she finally finds a place where she can have a family of her own. And... even with JQ's usual formulaic outline, it feels a bit bland.

The thing about Eloise -- she kind of wants to find what her siblings and Penelope have. She's lonely because she's the last one, outside her two youngest siblings, to not have found love. And standing alone can be hard. And -- there's another story here that you could tell, one that I do think they might be examining more in the show, where you can be on your own and that's great. But that's not this Eloise. And so she kind of reaches out to this possibility because she doesn't really have anything else. And... I think that's supposed to be romantic? But it kind of just feels sad.

Because here's the thing... Phillip Crane is just kind of a terrible romantic hero. First of all, there's his dead wife, Marina, whom he didn't love because it was somewhat arranged. Now - the mental health issues Marina had were... not well handled. She existed to die, and it feels uncomfortable. It's fine to explore Phillip in a marriage without love. But the way it's gone on about here just isn't great, and makes him look like a coldhearted, terrible person.

Then there are the kids. And I just don't think this is JQ's strong point. They're both kind of terrible, and part of it is because of the death of their mother, and part of it is (not helping him) the fact that Phillip is a neglectful father, but half the book is Eloise trying to connect with these kids, and it's just not great? I mean, maybe if this kind of trope is your thing, it works, but I found it kind of dull, and the kids weren't endearing in the slightest. (not that they have to be -- but you have to give us a reason to care, and I felt like we never got one.)

There's also something kind of strange about the romance in this one. Eloise just isn't a particularly sexual kind of character, so having her placed in a sexual situation, especially with a guy who is kind of brute-ish, feels awkward and uncomfortable. I ended up skimming over a lot of that because it just didn't feel right.

So, just because I wasn't a fan of the main characters or the plot doesn't mean there wasn't anything good going on here. There were two things I did like...

The framing device. Now that Lady Whistledown is no more (which is still tragic in my heart) each chapter sets it up with some correspondence from Eloise to someone in her life. This was great! I kind of wished this whole book was just correspondence because that would have been so much fun!

Half way through the book, the Bridgerton boys all show up, and they were an utter delight. (Including Colin who seems to be back to his normal self now that he's not in his own book *sigh*). And I feel like it really speaks to the charm of this family that all the sibling time was much more fun than anything going on in the romance. I get that the romance is and always was the appeal of these books, but there's another version of these books where the sibling dynamics are the crux of it, and I wonder if I'd enjoy them more.

Kind of a point 2.B, we get more of Sophie (and Benedict) and I really liked them in this book. It's a shame they've barely been around since their own book, so it was nice to get a glimpse of them here.

So yeah, I don't think the ideas behind this book are necessarily bad, I just think the execution of them left a lot to be desired. And it's not helped by the fact that we're on Book 5, and you can just tell JQ has a writing template she's using for all her books, because the same plot turns happen in the same exact places. It's not a great book, but it is readable, and not the horrorshow I expected it to be.

Rating : 2.75 Stars

[jazminrhode1]

Chapter 6: Sparring

Training will test you but, pain means progress here. The goal is to know your limits and push just a bit further each time. If you fall, get back up–it’s a rule of survival.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

Thana leaned back against the rough stone wall, suppressing an eye roll as she watched the novices on the sparring mat. Each attempted jab, every sloppy block, only heightened her frustration. She muttered under her breath, cataloging their mistakes. “Wrong stance, too loose… you’ll get flattened in a second,” she murmured, her fingers drumming against her thigh. She couldn’t help but smirk as her gaze landed on Violet Sorrengail, hoping she’d get a chance to put her through her paces.

“That guy—way too much weight on his front foot,” came a voice beside her.

She turned, surprised to find Ruari standing close, arms crossed and nodding at the sparring match in front of them. “You noticed?” she asked, a hint of approval slipping into her tone.

Ruari chuckled. “Amateurs practically fall on their own swords, don’t they?”

Thana nodded, sizing him up a little differently. “Not bad, Ruari.”

She glanced back at the sparring mat, where Garrick, talking to Imogen, exchanged a look with Xaden. She saw Xaden’s barely perceptible nod before Garrick turned and walked over.

“Alright, Ruari, enough commentary,” Garrick said, not unkindly, but with a gentle push that sent Ruari back into the crowd.

As Ruari glanced at her over his shoulder, she mouthed, “Sorry,” with a quick shrug. Ruari rolled his eyes but grinned before disappearing back into the group.

Imogen wandered over, a faint smirk on her face as she sidled up to Thana. “You’re getting popular,” she teased.

Thana crossed her arms. She liked Imogen well enough, even if she didn’t fully trust her yet. “Ruari’s… different,” she admitted, watching Liam talking with Xaden across the room. Both of them seemed to be sizing up Violet, and she raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

Liam caught her gaze, and his mouth tugged into a grin, giving her a wink. Even the smallest gestures from him made her feel grounded. Then, Professor Emeterrio’s voice cut through the room.

“Violet Sorrengail!” he called.

Thana’s heart leapt. She stood slowly, anticipation prickling in her fingers, ready to show Violet what it meant to spar with someone serious. But to her surprise, Professor Emeterrio’s gaze shifted.

“Xaden Riorson, take the mat.”

A flash of thrill shot through her as Xaden crossed the room, confidence radiating off him. She could see the concern flicker over Dain’s face, but Xaden’s smirk only grew. He turned to Violet with a look that made Thana’s stomach twist.

“Don’t worry, Sorrengail,” Xaden drawled, his voice a low taunt. “You’ll be in one piece when I’m done with you.”

“Kill her, Riorson!” Jack Barlow shouted from the edge, his face twisted with glee.

The fight was brutal—Xaden’s calculated moves against Violet’s stubborn resilience. He taunted her, his insults cold and cutting, and for a moment, Thana almost pitied her. But when Professor Emeterrio called the match, and Xaden stepped back, she was less satisfied than she’d hoped. She wanted an answer to his reasons, his restraint.

After class, she jogged to catch up to him. “What the hell was that?” she asked, voice barely more than a hiss.

He looked at her, unphased, his face closed off. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “I mean, you didn’t finish her. Not even close. Why did you hold back?”

“Violet needs training,” he replied, his voice quiet but steely. “She’s important. I’m asking you to trust me.”

The request stunned her, and she felt a surge of anger. “You want me to her? You’re out of your mind.” She shook her head, trying to catch his gaze. “It’s like you don’t even care that your father died!”

He grabbed her arm, his eyes dark with anger. “Everything I’m doing is because I lost my father.”

She wrenched her arm free, fury smoldering in her chest, and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. She nearly ran into Liam, who caught her arm and slung it over his shoulder as they walked toward the dining hall.

“Talked to Xaden, did you?” he asked, his face softening in that way only he managed.

Thana nodded, still simmering with frustration. “Yeah, and it was about as satisfying as talking to a wall.”

“Did he mention helping Violet?” Liam asked, his tone calm but probing.

She stopped, pulling her arm away. “How’d you know about that?”

He shrugged, unbothered by her reaction. “Xaden asked me to keep an eye on her. I trust him, Thana.”

Her anger faltered, softened by the knowledge of all Xaden had done for Liam back in the foster home, keeping him safe. She took a breath and collected herself. “I’m not going to help her.”

Liam looked down, understanding in his eyes. “Are you okay with me helping her?”

She forced herself to nod. “Of course. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” She offered a small, resigned smile.

Liam pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re an enigma, kid.”

After dinner, Thana slipped away from the dining hall, letting the murmurs and laughter fade into the background. The main corridor stretched before her, dimly lit and unsettling in the dark. She stuck to the shadows, her footsteps soft on the worn stone floors, taking a left hallway she’d yet to explore.

She moved with care, pausing to listen to each distant footfall, catching sight of the occasional flickering torchlight that signaled someone nearby. She ducked into an alcove as a familiar figure turned the corner—Dain. His brow was furrowed, clearly focused on something as he swept his gaze down the hall. Thana held her breath, watching him pass, only exhaling when he’d rounded a corner and the hall was empty again.

She slipped out from her hiding spot, feeling a surge of satisfaction at her quiet escape, and continued deeper into the castle’s lesser-known passages. As she traced her hand along a cold, uneven wall, she found herself lingering in a small, forgotten courtyard cloaked in shadows.

Someone cleared their throat from behind her, sending a thrill down her spine.

Thana whipped around, irritation flaring as she found herself face-to-face with Xaden, his gaze sharp and unreadable. He raised an eyebrow, stepping into the moonlight that pooled through the narrow windows, his arms crossed as he studied her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his tone calm but carrying a hint of warning.

Thana rolled her eyes, her earlier frustration simmering back to the surface. “Just getting some air, away from everyone,” she muttered. “Don’t tell me I need permission for that too.”

Xaden sighed, shaking his head slightly. “If you’re going to roam around, at least try not to get caught. You have a knack for attracting the wrong attention, you know.” He gestured down a narrow passage she hadn’t noticed before, its stairs spiraling up into the dark. “Come on.”

She hesitated, but her curiosity won out. She followed him up the winding staircase, the walls narrowing as they ascended. Finally, they emerged into the open air at the top of one of Basgiath’s towers, the entire campus stretching below them. The landscape beyond lay shrouded in shadows, only the faint lights of the school and the stars above illuminating their view.

Thana sucked in a breath, the vastness of it all striking her. She could see every training field, every building, every cliffside path winding away into the distance. The quiet here felt different—heavy, almost reverent.

Xaden turned to her, his gaze more serious than she’d ever seen it. “Thana… I need you to stay safe. There are people here who knew your father, who remember him, and not all of them see you as separate from him.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence. She regretted it almost instantly, her childish challenge hanging in the air.

Hurt flickered in his eyes, and for a moment he looked away, the mask slipping. “Because, Thana… I don’t just care because I owe it to your father. You’re important to me.” His voice softened, carrying a weight she didn’t fully understand. He didn’t owe her father anything.

The words touched something deep in her, stirring memories of the friendship they’d once shared, before everything became fractured. “What happened, Xaden?” she asked quietly. “We used to talk about everything. Now it’s like every time I think we’re getting back to who we were, you pull away.”

He leaned against the stone railing, his gaze distant as he struggled to find the words. “There are things I can’t tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I don’t want to, but because keeping you safe means keeping you out of this mess. And it’s… it’s too much to ask of anyone else. Especially you.”

Thana’s eyes narrowed, pain and anger mingling in her voice. “Basgiath changed you.”

“No,” he scoffed, meeting her gaze with a quiet intensity. “The rebellion did that. Every scar on my body, every day I wake up knowing I’m fighting battles that aren’t even mine… that’s what changed me.” He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders falling as he let the words out. “I pray to Malek every night that this death will be the last one but, there’s always the next one and the next one. I can’t… I can’t wear that, Thana.”

A pang of sorrow cut through her anger, softening her voice. “You’re not alone. Isn’t that what you always told me? Garrick, Liam, me… we’re here for you, Xaden.”

His face crumpled, and for the first time, he looked raw, vulnerable, his voice cracking as he spoke. “They’re just kids, Thana… and they’re dying because they were forced to come here because of a decision that I made.”

She reached out, closing the space between them, and pulled him into a hug. Xaden sank into her embrace, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in her shoulder, his tears soaking through her shirt. She held him tightly, letting him feel the weight of her presence, grounding him as he let go of the pain he’d held on his own for too long.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, brushing her hand over his back in gentle circles. “It’s not but… It’ll be we’re figure it out.”

For a moment, they stayed like that, the cold night air and vast sky above them their only witnesses. Slowly, his breathing steadied, and he pulled back, wiping his eyes, a faint smile breaking through his exhaustion. He took her hand in his.

“Thanks, T,” he murmured, his voice laced with gratitude.

They stood in silence for a few moments, sharing an unspoken understanding that hung between them. And as they descended from the tower, Thana felt a renewed determination settle within her. She’d protect him too, just as fiercely as he’d sworn to protect her, even if it meant facing down every danger Basgiath had to offer.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

~~~~~ MATCHUP ~~~~~

This is a match-up for my very, very, very patient follower. Thank you so much for supporting me, and I am sorry this has taken so long!

This is for you, @literallurker, everyone. Go give them some love if you have the time!

HAZBIN HOTEL

Husk

~~~~~ HEADCANON ~~~~~

Husk is just the bartender. He knows everyone's woes and problems, all the dirt and tea. He is even wise and beyond his years.

When you came to the hotel, he saw you as everyone else; the only bright side was that you didn't flirt with him 24/7 like the spider.

You were too quiet for his liking; you just sat there with your drink, observing everyone and him.

This leads to the beginning of your relationship, Husk's dying curiosity to know what was in that head.

From the first conversation, everything was short and small, with little discussions here and there. As you grew more comfortable, you started letting your wild side out.

Husk was open to some of your wilder ideas; they were funny and could prove entertaining.

When Husk opened up to you about his contract, he was happy to see you not look down on him but instead help him problem-solve how to get out of this without the radio demons' knowledge, of course.

As you two bonded, you kept each other up on the gossip of the other residents, what you heard in the hall, and what he heard at the bar top.

When Husk finally admitted his feelings you were elated to say the least, you two shared a lot with one another and stuck through some pretty insane pranks.

When battling the angels, Husk was by your side, watching your back the whole time.

He's not a big bird person, but he learns to love your parrot for you. (It's totally not because he got close to the bird and really truly cares for it; it's not that at all.)

~~~~~ BLURB ~~~~~

It was a quiet day in the hotel; Angel was out on a job, Charlie and her girlfriend were recruiting sinners, and the radio demon was out with Rosie. This only left you, Husk, and Nifty here. Nifty was off playing with some cockroaches, though,,, so it was just you and Husk. You didn't mind it. Charlie had been going overkill on all the redeeming stuff lately after Sir Pentious. You and Husk rarely have alone time once everyone learned about your relationship. While drinking your glass of alcohol, Husk informed you about the mishap Chalrie just had with a random sinner. In the middle of his story his phone went off, it was Charlie needing him to restock something in the hotel.

Sighing, you watched Husk rush out to grab what he needed. It was silent.... too silent.....you didn't like it. Thoughts started to gnaw on your mind from when you died to now. You felt small. It was getting bad, as you drifted off in space you didn't even notice the return of Husk from his errand. Husk knew you hated to be alone. He should have offered for you to go with him. He snapped his fingers in front of your face to pull you out of your trance. "Hey, I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to leave you alone for so long. Come on, talk to me. Let's get you out of that head of yours." You nodded and started, telling him about the time you successfully put lipstick on Angel's pig just because Alastor told you you couldn't.

Throughout your stories, you felt the gnaw of loneliness seep away. Husk always did that for you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Even on nights when he was supposed to be at the bar, he would sneak his way to your room and talk with you for hours until you finally fell asleep. Though he was a drunk, grumpy cat, he was always prepared to help his friends out, especially his closest companion, you.

~~~~~ EXTRA ~~~~~

(It's time for another fun Charlie exercise. Today's game uses the first letter of your name to correspond to an animal.)

Angel: Charlie, this is stupid.

Charlie: It's not stupid, Angel. Come on, look how easy it is. My name is Charlie, and I like Cats! See.

Angel: No, it's foolish.

Husk: My name is Husk and I like Hennesy.

Y/N: (Breaks down laughing) T-Thats not an animal.

Husk: It's the first letter of my name, ain't it.

[greatwyrmgold]

Undersiders Cluster Trigger

Other Wormblr posts about how worried they are about wanting to make an Undersiders cluster trigger a thing made me start thinking about it.

I'm going to give myself a couple definitions and scope limitations.

Today, I'm only going to think about the mass trigger event which gives them powers, not what their powers might be. The massive power grid can come later.

Each Undersider needs to have a trigger event which roughly corresponds to the vibes of their canon trigger event. If the vibes don't match, the powers shouldn't either.

For this exercise, the Undersiders' backstories are fluid, and can be rewritten or intertwined as necessary to make everyone's worst days happen at the same time and place.

Original Undersiders, Taylor, and Aisha—not because I don't like Parian or other recruits/henchpeople, but because Parian's power seems like it would be trickier to weave into the mess.

Trigger Vibes

Let's start by reviewing the vibes of each Undersider's canon trigger event, loosely in order of recruitment.

Lisa/Sarah comes first, and her trigger vibes are the simplest—partly because she has such a generic Thinker power. She triggered from finding her brother's body and convincing herself that she could have prevented his suicide if she wasn't such an idiot; however, none of the details are really reflected in the nuances of her power.

Lisa trigger vibes: Tragedy that she thought she could have prevented, if she had paid attention.

Rachel's trigger vibes are complicated, because her power is extremely specific. The point of attack has to be a threat to her dog. As is so often the case, though, the trigger background is as important as the actual event.

A drowning mongrel is a crisis for Rachel because she has become isolated from humanity. At best, the people around her, the people who should have been taking care of her, completely failed in their duties, leaving her to survive or suffer on her own. At worst, they actively made her suffer; sometimes this was motivated by a sense of "tough love," sometimes it was plain cruelty, but the difference is immaterial.

Rachel triggered because her only companion, her only source of emotional support, was murdered in front of her. That companion just happened to be a dog.

Rachel trigger vibes: Isolated from the people around her by neglect, abuse, or both; find a dog who makes life bearable; see someone try to kill that dog (possibly to hurt/"teach a lesson to" Rachel).

Brian lied about his trigger event. (Well, his first one; a hypothetical second trigger event can come later.) As per Word of God, it wasn't just about finding out that his mom's abusive boyfriend was abusing his sister and then stoically beating him up; it was about returning to a toxic environment, one which he had been hurt by, seeing his sister victimized the same way.

Anyways, we have clear Word of God about Brian's trigger vibes. "[T]o see the house and be brought back to his weakest, darkest moment, the man's eyes on him...Environment and malign attention and the desire to protect his sister all factored into his power being what it was."

Brian trigger vibes: Being forced back into a toxic social environment, confronted with his abuser again.

We know basically nothing about whatever event gave Alec/Jean-Paul powers. However, we have two directions from which to speculate. Alec has a Master power, but with a bit of the "fucking with people" angle that borderline Master/Stranger triggers have. So his powers probably triggered from hostile social isolation, perhaps a bit more intentional than Taylor or Rachel's.

Second...he grew up in Heartbreaker's sex cult. Well, it's not really a cult per se; that implies some kind of pretense for why everyone should obey and f*k the leader. Anyways, that's a bit of a hostile social environment, where everyone's day could be ruined by one person pissing off the mercurial dictator in charge of everything, where improving your position means pleasing that dictator, and often hurting others to do it.

So, Alec's trigger event probably stems from some kind of abusive neglect inflicted on him by one or more. of his half-siblings or...um...step-(dad's side chick)s?

Alec trigger vibes: Not clear, but definitely not good.

We all know Taylor.

Taylor trigger vibes: Isolation, bullying, and self-loathing

Finally, Aisha. What we know about Aisha's trigger event comes from Scion's interlude, and it's more focused on showing how detached Scion is from humanity than explaining the headspace Aisha was in. The point was that Scion could barely understand that headspace to begin with. The female was more distressed than the male, and hence makes a more appropriate host; nothing else matters.

And it's not surprising that Wildbow hasn't gone into more detail. He tries to avoid directly depicting sexual violence in his stories, and the threat of rape is clearly the immediate threat behind her distress. It's not clear that there was another layer—like, she had been abused a bunch by mom's boyfriend and thought of the rest of the city as a safe space to escape to, but now it's not safe—but that's just a wild guess based on other details of Aisha's characterization and backstory.

Aisha trigger vibes: Unclear, but unwanted attention is part of it

Alright, now to tie everything together.

Setting the Stage

So, we have six sets of trigger vibes. There's one common thread running through all of them except Lisa's: Abuse. Taylor was abused by her ex-friend, fake friend, and other bullies; Brian and Aisha were abused by the boyfriend; Rachel was abused by her foster parents; Alec was abused by Heartbreaker and the Heartbroken.

So wherever this cluster trigger takes place, it has to be somewhere rife with abuse, somewhere that several children can plausibly be suffer acute abuse at the same time and place. Luckily, one of the Undersiders has a trigger event in such a location, a place with lots of kids around, conditioned and rewarded for their cruelty.

High school. Heartbreaker's compound.

Not that Heartbreaker is a good fit for the cluster trigger. Putting aside the bit where basically all the kids around had powers at least loosely tied to his, Heartbreaker wouldn't let Brian escape and casually return, nor would he care if Rachel had a dog. (Unless it barked loud enough, but he is a very different kind of shit parent from Rachel's last foster mom.)

So we need some new high-control group lead by parahumans, who foster the same kind of fear and cycles of abuse as Heartbreaker, through relatively mundane patterns of abuse and control instead of superpowers. If anyone wants to write a Clustersiders fanfic, I'd suggest researching (or at least watching a couple informative YouTube videos about) cults and the like.

The path of least resistance would be a culty parahuman-lead village built around and through a portal or two. You know, like the one Goddess's cluster triggered near, over the course of a few days. Half a dozen acts of extreme abuse in separate households could then end up tangled into one cluster through dimensional nonsense.

But the path of least resistance is, in this case, the path of least interest. Can one act of abuse—or at least a few connected acts of abuse—traumatize half a dozen kids at once?

Putting It Together

Let's start with the outlier. Lisa's trigger event is not directly tied to any kind of abuse. There are a few ways that we could tie her into the trigger, but I think the most interesting puts her on the side of the abuser.

Lisa gets recruited by one of the parahuman bosses to help deal with some problem children. Being more focused on her own needs and appeasing the boss (but I repeat myself), she agrees. Lisa closes doors/blocks an exit that other kids could use to avoid being dealt with, not spending a moment's thought on why the boss wanted her to do that. And holy crap on a cracker, turns out the boss wanted to hurt the kids. And Lisa helped. She's complicit.

This probably isn't the first time, either. She's such a helpful little gopher, one who remained ignorant of the consequences of her own actions—partly because the bosses like it that way, but partly because she didn't want to think about them.

This is her fault.

I feel like Brian could end up in a similar role. He's largely desensitized to the violence, like he is in canon. As long as he and his sister are okay, everyone else is expendable. He doesn't want to hurt them, but he's willing. Even if it means helping a monster who abused him and his parents.

The boss brings him along for more routine disciplinary action. He's done this often enough before—Brian is one of his main enforcers, after all. But his loyalty is divided, and this issue is a good way to solve that issue. Forcing Brian to punish Aisha means he either needs to put "the needs of the community" above family, or disobeys the boss—giving him an excuse to beat that disloyalty out of him.

Rachel's bit is important; her dog is the reason Aisha and the others are being punished. Nobody in the community (aside from the bosses) is allowed to own pets, and Rachel broke that taboo. She's an orphan, allowed to live in her mother's house and eat the community's food, but otherwise neglected until she's old enough to be useful. So when she found a stray puppy, she let him sleep in the house and eat her scraps.

When the bosses find out about this violation, they assume she must have had assistance from the other children. Maybe they picked kids who were disfavored but hadn't technically done anything wrong yet; maybe they picked kids who were less cold to Rachel than most; maybe they're even right, and one of the kids was coincidentally helping Rachel find food or clean up the messes.

I'm not sure there's much I need to write about the specific circumstances of the other three kids in this "community". They're Aisha, Alec, and Taylor, with backgrounds that are similar to their canon ones, shitty home/social lives and all. I'd need more if I was writing an actual fic, but I have no plans to do so.

So I'll just move onto...

The Trigger Event

Lisa fetches Aisha, Brian fetches Alec, goon #3 fetches Taylor. All three are brought to Rachel's house, where the boss is waiting. Goon and Lisa stand at the front and back doors, and Brian follows the boss inside.

The boss explains what the three girls and Alec did wrong. Keeping a dog was against the rules, and all of them helped Rachel keep the dog. Each of them will need to be punished.

The boss tells Brian to stuff Taylor in the closet, where Rachel had been stashing soiled newspapers and poop bags after people started to get suspicious. While he moves a dresser in front of the door, the boss starts strangling the dog. Then, he tells Brian to think of an appropriate punishment for Aisha, with an insinuation of the kind of punishment he would assign her if Brian didn't.

The boss made mortal threats to the siblings—forcing Brian to hurt his sister, or forcing Aisha to do something I'd rather not describe. Rachel watches as her only companion gets the life choked out of it. Alec is in the corner, terrified about what the boss has in store for him. Taylor is in a filthy closet full of flies and other vermin. And Lisa realizes she's complicit in all of it.

Everyone present (except the dog and goon #3) collapses and experiences psychadelic hallucinations for a few seconds. Then things descend into chaos.

[chicxxonaa]

Hehehe, this is my second post following up my first one. I’m still getting used to my layouts of my posts. So please enjoy. 💜

CW: None, heavy angst, some fluff, Geto’s perspective on missing Gojo :(

Christmas has passed again

The new year is approaching as well.

And..you’re not here.

…

The girls laugh and play with the toys I bestowed on them. They’re so happy and healthy. But I can’t find it in my strength to smile as much as they can.

They’re tucked away and asleep now.

I look outside the window where I can see the city scape.

The air is chilled as it blankets over the night like a shroud.

And all I want to think about is you.

You, oh infinite one.

The gifted six eyed child.

You are the strongest.

But do you feel strong right now?

Don’t you feel tired like how I am?

Do you feel the weight of our souls crushing?

Is my pain in correspondence to yours?

…

I try to look out for you anywhere where I think you might be there.

The first I think of is your hair. So many people had the idea to compare you to chilled snow. But I beg to differ. Bright, untamed, a beautiful white.

The kind of white that the sun reflects on fresh blankets, drying outside on a spring day. The kind that is shown on beautiful chrysanthemums, gently blowing amongst the breeze. You were never much for caring about your look, so your hair was always so similar to like cotton, easy to mess up and pull apart. Like a dandelion, so easy to blow away, they speckled your eyelashes, some of the hair in your arms, and a little bit found in your cheeks. But in a way, it was so different, that I never thought I’d love something as much as your hair.

…

I saw my girls laugh and smile and their sounds of joy rang me to a time when you laughed and smiled with me.

God your smile was infectious. Like a flu i was willing to catch. So much so I was getting annoyed.

Your mouth was wide. Wide enough to see your smile spread across your face like dough. Every teeth, fang, part of your gums would be visible when you smiled. The kind of smile that was carved carefully by some benevolent being above you and I. Only something I was so gifted to see. A perfect array of pearls to form the most magnificent necklace across your lips. If could, I’d frame it in the confines of my mind where I would stare at awe in the museum of my memories.

…

I stared at the lights below the city and tried to see your eyes.

I was never so appealed to the sky. It was blue, what was such a big deal? It was simple science. The only phenomenon that was so simple, and sometimes so dull of this earth.

That was until when we skipped class the first time as first years to head to the roof. The sun was directly shining above us as we played a make shift game of catch and laughed so the world could hear.

You took off those round dark shades you always wore to wipe off your face. You never told me why you wore such glasses. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but what about them did you decide to keep them closed? Because when you took the end of your shirt to wipe off the sweat from your brows, you looked up.

Eyes without a face.

The blue in your eyes matched perfectly with the late summer sky. Like I was looking into a kaleidoscope of the sea. The windows to the soul, and your soul felt like that day. Your eyes were the sky, and your face was the sun. What a beautiful sun. I was willing to become blind to see you. Gaze at you. My blue sun.

…

Your skin was as pale as mine. But yours was like porcelain. Not a single scar, cut or mole in sight. A marble statue of desire. It’s all I can think about when I see this snow fall. That perfect skin, the holy body. Only one I can see when I have been wiped of my sins. But you’d wipe them for me with your touch. Velvety, innocent and yet the night of our first kiss, I died when I felt that heavenly death. And then resuscitated when I pulled back.

…

The one thing I try so desperately to remember, so desperately to salvage like a broken record in my mind, tainted with grime and dust, trying so hard to clean any distortions, is your voice.

God, I love your voice.

Every time you’d talk with that boisterous voice of yours, whether it was to say something cocky, a joke with no value, a laugh, a yell, a cry. When you said my name.

I couldn’t help but feel the heat of it all around me, suffocating me and drowning my ears in your sound.

But I remember one blue hour. Three in the morning, when all was still, tranquil.

You came into my room silently as to not disturb, but you know I don’t really sleep well. Less now that it’s been two years without you by my side.

You stand over me and my bed for a moment, mustering up the courage to speak to me. You call out my name in a whisper and I respond.

“Suguru,”

“What is it?”

“I can’t sleep..”

“Hm. Why?”

“…I can’t sleep without you near me..”

“Hm..”

“Can I…lay here with you?”

“…yes, you can”

As you laid down beside me in what was normally a twin bed, I could feel the weight of the mattress shift lower. But I did my best to make you more comfortable than I. You smelled of fresh body wash with a hint of your newly washed white tee. Your back was towards me. I didn’t find that satisfactory.

“Satoru”

“Hm?”

“Can you face me?”

You carefully turned over to face me.

“I wanna hear why you can’t sleep.”

“But I just told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“Why..?”

“…The sound of your voice helps me sleep. Like a lullaby.”

I can see your ears get red, even in such a dark room. You leaned forward and kissed me, and then proceeded to tell me a bit about your day, what you think of people, what you think of yourself. Every hum, every vowel, noun, verb, any name including mines that you’d speak from your tongue, was like music to me. I wanted to replay it over and over again. I didn’t want you to stop. I wanted to sleep to your tune.

You were the lullaby to my dreams. I wish I slept longer.

…

You’re not as mysterious as you claim to be you know. At least not to me. You’re a crystal ball, I see what you are when you’re like this. Vulnerable, beautiful. You’re not a god like you say you are. You’re beyond that.

You’re not an instrument of the world.

You’re not a gifted person.

You’re not the strongest.

You’re human.

Was mortality not enough for you?

…

The world is asleep, I’m not.

Your memories frost over the window pane of my apartment.

The new year is coming, and you’re not here.

Satoru

I miss you.