#the tiles that i cannot cut are next to none!

[sannyo-appreciation-posts]

[ask3w]

ive been reading The Tiles That I Cannot Cut Are Next to None! and youmu has said the title roughly 3 times now. what an amazing doujin

[nicomrade]

2024 was full of disappointing reads, we will of course remember everyone yelling at me to just stop reading [insert title] if i dislike it so much and well! i finished all the ones everyone wanted me to stop blogging about. and im not even going to talk about them now cause no way in hell they even crack the top 10 of what i read this year. 2024 is not the year of the flop shounen. it was the year of 5 timeless bangers. lets never forget this.

Ashita No Joe - Kajiwara Ikki, Takamori Asao, Chiba Tetsuya (1968-1973)

ashita no joe is the crown jewel of the sports manga. thats the entire review like seriously i read it super early in the year and i immediately knew it was going to be the very first title in the years retrospective and nothing i read afterwards changed this. deeply haunting story that has not left me, probably never will. genuinely no one else had me on my ass, dropped jaw like ANJ. what if the only thing that could save you would also ruin your entire life? what if the only thing that mattered in this whole world, sucked so deeply and entirely? but you love it so much. and you cant live without it. and everyone can see its burning you alive.

No Home - Wanan (2018-2024)

another one that i just knew would make this list immediately after finishing it. no home looks into what it means to not have a home/that you shouldnt live at home. it deals with being parentless, with abusive parents, with healthy parents that you still shouldnt live with, family and home in all that it means. its also a deeply optimistic story despite its evil and twisted ways. story thats equally convinced that relapses + harm are never-ending and everywhere, and that people still grow and change despite it all. read no home and remember what it means to be someone's child

Ajin: Demi-Human - Sakurai Gamon, Miura Tsuina (2012-2021)

ajin is deeply interested in the actual ramifications of immortality through body regeneration and has one of my favorite #idgafer protagonists which is always a plus. i liked what it does with the human instinct to game-ify things, i liked when it denies the catharsis of death to characters, i liked what it does with its terrorism plot. i liked its allegories and i liked its metaphors. and it was a story told masterfully from start to finish, deeply engaging, deeply enjoyable, awesome art. the kinda work that made me turn off the analysis brain and instead just enjoy the things happening !!! i just frankly really liked this one nothing more nothing less

National Quiz - Sugimoto Reiichi, Katou Shinkichi (1993-1995)

surely youve heard this one before, a dystopic government puts on a game show where the winner will have any wish granted but all the losers will have their lives ruined. the national quiz is not only really funny about it with awesome art its also actually interested in what it means to dismantle a “death game” (and what that death game existing might mean for the society its part of!) read the national quiz for a look into imperialism and how foreign nations profit from intervening in other countries and read the national quiz for fun. but mostly, read the national quiz for my best friend K-I K-Ichi

Let's Go to Karaoke! - Wayama Yama (2019)

and finally of course this was also the year of wayama yama!... i reread the ones i knew and read the ones i hadnt gotten to yet and well, lets go karaoke is the only one thats completed AND i read for the 1st time so. for my purposes its also the only one i CAN put on this list. do not let me imply its not worthwhile on its own, though. its stupid easy to pinpoint the specific afternoons i read it both time cause i Cannot not post about lets go karaoke when i read lets go karaoke. its hilarious and scary and it has a powerful hold over me. lets go karaoke is the story of a middle schooler having the worlds worst gay awakening- orrrr i mean its a story about change, how scary it is to grow out of the things you once liked and finding yourself liking different new things instead. its about not getting into strangers' cars. its about what if a terrifying guy imprinted on you. and its about going to freaking karaoke !!

AND the bonus mention, Touhou - The Tiles That I Cannot Cut Are Next to None! - Uki Hayahiro (2020-2024)

finally some good fucking mahjong with superpowered girls manga… no more saki, please i beg you lets just stop reading saki. what if we forgot all the bad, awful, stupid, mahjong mangas weve all read and that left a bad taste in our mouths. lets all read the touhou mahjong doujin. on my hands and knees. its actually good mahjong manga except for that one drawing mistake that one time. who cares. its smart about its superpowers usage, its got plenty of hot mahjong action, the problem solving feels fun, the jokes are funny, only time ive seen local yakus spotlighted w such love, what more can you possibly ask from me? remember what made you fall in love with mahjong in the first place and read the touhou mahjong doujin today.

[studentofetherium]

[tribow]

This doujin manga finished somewhat recently and I gotta say, it's very enjoyable. Probably one of my favorites in a while. The artist, Uki Hayahiro, has a great passion for mahjong and touhou. They put together one of the best sports stories I've seen in a while and all the touhou characters are portrayed so well here. Their art has so much expression, I kinda want them Uki Hayahiro to get something official released one day.

They didn't pop out of nowhere either, they've been doing doujin works for a while Some of it is completely original too! (To my knowledge, none of it is translated).

What would we do without DB Scans (Levander)? We might have never been able to read this one without them.

Do you need to know how mahjong works to read this? No, absolutely not. A lot of the jargon and rules may go over your head, but it doesn't matter. What's important here are the character interactions and drama that happens between all players sitting at the table. You'll know who's winning or losing at any given point it's fine.

However, if you're like me and you are actually aware about the rules of mahjong and how it works, this manga only gets better. In Gensokyo's mahjong, players are allowed to use their abilities to gain an advantage (within a few restrictions). The rules are twisted in really fun ways and Uki Hayahiro actually gives the reader enough information to try and figure out what might be the best play. Trying to predict Youmu's moves was very fun.

The only reason why I know how mahjong works was because I watched Saki a while ago and decided to learn the game before watching it. I ended up thinking the game was fun, but I remained a spectator. I took the time to watch real life mahjong games, but never actually played myself. This doujin pushed me over the edge. I'm officially a mahjong player and I have this doujin to blame.

I would highly recommend giving this one a read. I'm gonna go play some mahjong.

[tenderhooked]

it is SO fun to whump jamie HOWEVER. currently very violently rotating a fic wherein it’s sam who gets hurt. sam who goes down on the pitch so hard that the stadium seems to swallow itself into a black hole. sam who can’t get up after. sam who can’t play the rest of the season. and it’s awful and terrible and then—

and then there’s jamie, coming round to sam’s house with movies and chocolates and big ben, jamie, beaming bright enough that sam can almost forget about the rest of it. jamie who’s so determined to prove that he can take care of precious things even though he learned how to love in the shadow of a monster. and he cradles the back of sam’s neck and tells him it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay. he sleeps on the couch so sam’s not alone, and when sam asks him how he knows the best way to fix a torn stitch, his mouth goes firm and flat and he lets the dull prick of the needle say what words cannot. he won’t let himself fall to pieces, not when sam’s the one who deserves the privilege, and eventually sam does. fragments on the bathroom floor, cool low light and the dewy glow of the moon through the window. jamie finds him sobbing and he sees his own echo next to sam, the outline of an old ghost, and he thinks he’s fucked it. rot spreads. you can’t stop it unless you cut it out, and he’s still here, he’s still here in sam’s house—

don’t, sam says, fingers reaching, voice wrecked and hollow. don’t go. please, jamie, don’t—don’t go.

i’m no good for you, jamie says. the shadows of monsters only bear fruit already gone bad.

i can’t do it without you, says sam. he’d been broken out on that pitch but it had been jamie who’d held his hand all the way to the hospital, jamie who’d been the first one to sign his cast. there’s so much light in this room. there’s so much light. please.

there are few shadows that can survive in the face of the sun. none of them exist here, not on this bathroom floor, not in this home. jamie’s knees bruise on the tile and sam weeps into his shoulder and in the morning they make pancakes soft with syrup. next season will be better. they’re both going to be better.

[mercurygray]

Water hitting the shower tile  for Marion and Colonel Hot AF

Great minds think alike - you and @shoshiwrites sent me the same prompt for the same people. I'm gonna level with you two - This is NSFW AF.

🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️, everyone. Consensual adults doing consensual things under the cut.

--

The worst part of the mission is what comes after.

In the dim light of morning, it's easy to believe that everything will go right - that the plans will work and the guns will fire and the bombs will drop and everyone will come home.

But that's never the case. In the full force of the afternoon, no one can hide from the truth - not even him. Harding doesn't fly very often, but when he does, it's the end of the mission that always catches him. He stands on the tarmac and watches the ambulances, the fire brigade, the gunners and bombadiers and navigators dragging themselves into their trucks, faces torn, souls tired. The worst part of it is that he's supposed to be responsible for them, to protect them, in whatever way he can, and yet - it is a war. He can't protect them from that.

Interrogation is next, even for him. He listens to the others recount the mission for Red and his waiting sheaf of notes, waiting until they're all finished before he speaks, agreeing with everything they've said, commending them for the fine job they've done. Red lets them go, and they troop off to the equipment room and the showers to wash the day off and change back into clothes that don't smell like exhaustion and fear.

But none of that yet - not for him. Neil waits until the very last of the crews is done with their debrief before he, too, finally leaves, shirt sticky, jacket too warm.

No equipment room for him, though - no shared shower and the playful banter of the locker room. Rank has some privileges, and the private bathroom off his room is one of them. He could leave his gear with the boys, but there are some places a commander shouldn't go, and that feels, to him, like one of them. There should be one place where they can always speak their minds and not be afraid of being overheard.

In a dim corner of his mind he can hear the door open and close, and he shuts the tap off and listens for a voice from the other room. "Neil?"

"In here."

There is a long pause, and Marion appears in the bathroom door, by some miracle of nature already in her underwear. He pulls back the shower curtain a little further as she wordlessly takes off her final layer, and reaches around him to turn the water back on and grab his soap from where it rests on the wire shelf. "Pink -" I'm dirty, he wants to say. I'm tired and filthy and you shouldn't see me like this. Come back when I'm clean and myself again.

"Shhh," she says, letting the water rush over his shoulders again, droplets drumming on tile. "Let me do this."

She turns him around and begins soaping his back, his shoulders, the hardness of the soap pressing into his skin and following the line of his back, and he cannot help but close his eyes, feeling the water on one side of him and Marion's hand and the soap on the other. She takes one arm, and then the other, hand filled with soap bubbles as she massages the muscles of his arm, sore after being at a yoke for seven hours. Her hand and the soap go lower, along the front of his legs, and he moans a little, holding out one arm to brace himself against the wall. (Her body has only barely brushed him through most of this - the tip of a breast here, the flash of a hip there.) "Turn around."

He does as she says, opening his eyes to flick droplets from his lashes, and watches, wordlessly, gratefully, as she takes a cloth and begins to do the front of him - his still-tired shoulders and his chest, rubbing his stomach, the trail of hair there. Another noise escapes when her cloth dips lower, gently stroking the length of him, softly cupping him, massaging just a little. No, Pink, you shouldn't, he thinks silently to himself, I'm tired and it's not - I won't be able to -

She shushes him again, gently. "Let me do this, Neil."

He closes his eyes again and lets her gently stroke him off, one arm still braced against the wall, his cock too ready for her hand, the noises in his mouth hardly his own. Wherever they are now is neither here not there, some place apart from England and the war, just the two of them and the warmth of the water and the smoothness of the tile. Her lips find his after he comes, her cloth gently cleaning him off a second time, limp in her hand. "Pink." It is accusation and thanks, both.

She reaches past him and shuts the water off, and for a moment, the two of them only stand there, dripping. He can feel her smile against his cheek. "I wanted to."

"I can't -"

"It doesn't matter," she promises. "Dry off and then you can hold me for a while and tell me I'm pretty."

That won't be enough, he wants to say. She's had her own long day - he knows that better than anyone. She's been waiting at the control tower tracking their progress on the radio, and comparing their charts. And then she's had to listen to all of them tell it to her, over and over and over again. Her own shoulders will be sore and she, too, should have a strong hand between her own legs helping her find release.

He reaches for the towel and dries her off first, his hands cupping her ass, thumbs caressing her breasts, knowing it's not enough against what she's just done for him. She smiles in thanks and climbs out of the shower, gathering up her clothes to lay them out on his chair while he dries himself off and turns out the light.

She's already tucked herself into his bed, and pats the pillow next to her. "You're a little insubordinate, Captain," he murmurs into her ear. "Disobeying a direct order."

"Reprimand me for it later," she replies breezily, and he realizes, in the moment, how far he is away from the man of thirty minutes ago - clean now, and content, ready to begin again. And we will, Neil thinks to himself, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her shoulder. The worst part is that we'll do it again tomorrow, too.

[soraviie]

subject: write to me.oneshot

━ type: Jungkook x gn! reader              ━ masterlist ━ word count: 6k

━ summary: Jungkook is certain of it — you have disabled your work email and as such what's the harm in finally spilling everything that he's ever felt for you? You certainly won't read them...right?

━  connected to: "you think it's unrequited"

━ genre: pining!!! extreme pining!! angst, barely any fluff

━  c/w: Jungkook goes through a depressive episode 

━ leave a comment otherwise I’ll feed you mouldy cheese, don't test me. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

Seoul in particular is the kind of city that never sleeps. Jungkook is once again made aware of it when he arrives late at night, kicks open the doors to his apartment and goes to lay down on the bed. Traffic, endless traffic and long strings of people trembling the air with an incessant series of enraged horns. Half-heartedly he greets Bam, plucking the squeaking toy out of the dog's mouth and flinging it to the far side of the room.

Fuck, he thinks, these are outside clothes; I should probably change.

He doesn’t.

Eagerly, Bam noses at his owner's arm, trying to get the man to play with him but at most Jungkook lazily pats his head. Lately, the only sound in his home had been the scratch of Doberman's nails against the glossy tiles. As he gets up Jungkook finds his head slightly spinning.

Eat, you should eat, he reminds himself. He has to do it himself now.

You didn't care for him and left, and he had to do this stupid thing all by himself. Immediately he shakes his head, chasing the resentment away. It wasn't your fault, none of it was your fault. And maybe it wasn't even his. It was just...not meant to be.

For the first time in weeks he actually manages to put forth some effort. Brushing back the hair from his face, the headphones squeeze tightly on his ears, preventing any sort of noise of traffic or ambulatory sirens. He cringes when seeing the biochemical weapon that is a half-finished bowl of ramen sitting next to the sink. There's even an egg there. Some days had gone by good but lately….it all grew to be very bad.

"When did I...? When did I even have this?" he mutters to himself but Jungkook lives alone. There's no one to answer.

The trash that veers dangerously over the side of the bin has to be split into two separate trips. The plastic bag is thin and it rips easily from the strength that Jungkook has to grab it with. Hence, two trips.

The floor needs cleaning, he does so. Laundry...he takes a disgust ridden glance at the array of dirty socks and underwear littered all over the bathroom floor that cannot even be seen from the sheer scale of used clothes piling on top of it. Yeah, laundry definitely needs doing.

As the washing machine goes off in the distance, with no small amount of guilt Jungkook looks at Bam. The dog's eyes are wide and glistening, holding no grudge towards his depressed owner. His tail wags expectantly the longer Jungkook keeps staring.

"Who's a good boy?" his voice though betrays him and cracks, failing to at least simulate the same joy Bam exudes. Jungkook reaches for the snacks — the empty paper crumbles between his fingers. He should go out and buy them. Thank god for Young-mi; had she not volunteered, Bam would have probably not been going out for his much needed walks. He should go out...not just for Bam. The dog has probably seen more sun than Jungkook has, but the mere thought of leaving his house kills a small part within him. It takes all of his strength to even make this empty home of his a somewhat habitable environment.

When he's done, hours into cleaning, there's almost a sense of accomplishment washing over him but before the pleasant feeling can fully settle into Jungkook's bones, finally turning his life back into somewhat normal form, the realization hits him. You won't know that he deep cleaned his apartment, you won't know that he cut his finger washing the knife and neither will you point out the choice of his band-aid (green sharks) with that distantly curious gleam in the eye because Jungkook himself won't be able to tell you any of this. Because you won't be here. Sometimes it hits him too hard and he cannot find his way back to the surface anymore.

Bam comes up to his leg, poking his wet nose into Jungkook's knee. Numbly he turns to look down.

"Sorry, boy, no walks tonight."

Bam's head droops lower and it isn't long before he waddles sadly away, settling in the corner to disinterestedly chew on his favourite toy. Whatever scraps of seaweed and rice Jungkook can scrounge up from the deserted fridge, he eats quickly and with little interest. The bed and his subsequent need to rot in it is begging for his attention but the glint of his laptop — open and left behind on the coffee table — catches his attention at the very last second.

He won't be able to tell you...in person that is. It's been a week since he last wrote to you. He misses you.

Grabbing the laptop, he digs himself underneath the covers, waiting for the email to load.

How many messages has he written to you? 100? 200? By now he's stopped counting. What's the point?

Clicking on a new message, he gathers himself. Despite knowing that you've certainly deactivated your email by now, knowing that you won't ever read this he still feels some semblance of anxiety ripple through his body. Gasping in a deep breath, he relaxes himself, finding strength in the newfound mantra.

They don't care about you. They won't read any of this. It's like talking to yourself.

Hey, no one said mantras had to be happy, right?

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: btw I did a deep clean :D

Hi!

It's been a week since I last wrote to you. Can't say it's been fun. How are you? Are you fine? Are you still liking life back home? You used to complain that you couldn't get the proper ingredients here in Korea...

"Still" liking the life back home...Jungkook scoffs at the choice of his own words, aggressively bringing his finger of wrath upon the backspace button. "Still"...as if you had liked it here. As if you had liked him! He shakes his head once more. For all the supposed numbness that he felt instead of pain, there was a surprising amount of bitterness breaking ever so often through the flimsy pretense he had constructed ever since you left.

“You need any help?” 

He didn’t even particularly want to help you. It was 2:30 in the morning and only now he could go home. He was drenched in sweat and undoubtedly stinky, the strands of hair clung disquietingly to the back of his neck and he just wanted to go home. But you looked so damn…confused. Frankly, if he wouldn’t help you it most likely would be a violation of the civil law. 

Your tired eyes travelled from the dimly lit phone in your hand to his face and as you scrutinised him from head to toe, he unwittingly shivered. 

There’s no such thing as ghosts, Jungkook told himself, ghosts don’t use phones. 

The blankness of your stare disturbed him and after hearing a quiet, barely audible “no” fall out your lips, he bolted, jumping into an elevator without a single glance backwards.

So much for a meet-cute. 

He blinks out of the frayed memory, taking in the newly reviewed mail

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: btw I did a deep clean (of my house) :D

It's been a week since I last wrote to you. Can't say it's been fun. I hope you like being back home. 

I like you.

He reads it with a heavy sigh but proceeds to send it anyway tossing then his computer aside with an easy flick of the wrist. Not like you’ll ever read it. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com 

subject: where did you go? :0

Hello, _____________. This is Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Of BTS… but I’m sure you probably know that.

I got this email address from one of my managers, well, I may have bullied them a little bit (ヾ;￣▽￣)ヾ but it was for a good cause! 

Anyways I was wondering about next week’s show. You promised me to help with the speech, you know my English is not good╥﹏╥ but I’ve been trying to find you for the whole week and it’s like you disappeared! Even my managers were all incredibly tight lipped about it. Just let me know if you’re still up to helping me. If not, it’s fine. 

I hope you’re not sick, health is important you know!

Whichever it is — whether you’re sick, out of Seoul or just don’t want to see me, please, write to me so I’d know (⌒_⌒;)

Sincerely,

Jeon Jungkook.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: are you okay?

So uhh…the show is over and I haven’t seen or heard from you. The speech didn’t go so well since I was so worried about you my head was fuzzy but it’s whatever. Life goes on hahaha. I am starting to get a bit worried haha don’t scare me haha. I asked even other members about you but no one knows. The staff is telling me you didn’t have a desk to begin with so it’s not like I could just wait for you there…not that I would do that. I wouldn't….haha. Well, you were our jack—of—all—trades little helper, right? You always helped me with my jewelry and mic, and papers so it makes sense, doesn’t it? That you didn’t have a desk? Idk idk I’m suddenly shy (,,>﹏<,,)

Maybe you’re on vacation? I just thought of that lol it’s probably that. Sorry for bothering you, I hope you rest well! You deserve it, our little fairy! 

Still if you could be so kind as to answer this message when you receive it, I’d be forever in your debt if you would! 

Sincerely, 

Jeon Jungkook. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: 

You’re not on vacation. It’s been a month. HR hasn’t approved of you going away and you’re not on a sick leave. 

Yes! Yes! I went to them! You’re not answering and I’m worried, and angry!

I thought we were friends! If you’re going through something then, please, let me know! How can I help? What can I do so you come back to us?

Sincerely, 

a very pissed Jeon Jungkook.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: you left

The truth is out. I already said it in the subject but I’ll repeat it again, maybe to make it real. Maybe so that I would believe it. 

You left. Wrote a resignation, packed up your shit and left. Just fucked off without saying why, without saying goodbye. 

That’s what hurts the most. I wasn’t even worth enough to say goodbye to.

I really hate you.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: i don’t know, something

….hi.

It’s been a month. 

How have you been?

I’m…not too good. I’m still here but…eh, I don’t know. The members say I’m sulking and I am in a way but more than anything I’m missing you. I’m missing the chances I had but didn’t take.

You know it took me a while to even like you. I thought you were so cold, in fact, I thought you despised me, hehe, well, maybe you do but I won’t know now, will I? I can’t exactly ask you, can I? Not to you who would answer as I’m fairly certain this email has been deactivated.

It’s the possibilities that hurt the most, you know. I don’t really know you, do I? I’ve never been at your home, never met your family, friends. I don’t know what type of water you like and I don’t know how soft your blanket is. Whether you use mouthwash or whether you shower in the morning or night. I don’t know these things but…I could have. Why didn’t I just ask? Why didn’t you for that matter? Was I…not the one for you? 

Did you think the same as I did?

I remember when that first thought of you crossed my mind, of us being something…different.  It was in the middle of a concert, remember? After the one we had in Seoul. You were maybe 6 months in, still awkward around everyone. You didn’t speak much I remember that. In those days whenever I asked anyone about you, they would say “real quiet but reliable”. I was sitting on the sofa, trying to catch my breath. It was Jimin’s solo so I could have some few seconds of peace and you were there, right in the centre of the pandemonium, absolutely calm. I remember how I wondered: "How can they be so collected? Do they not care?” but you did care. You were working on Namjoon’s jacket, weren’t you? Wardrobe malfunction. You weren’t even supposed to. Little helper is one thing but you’re not a stylist. Still you stepped in and calmly, diligently you made it whole again.

You probably don't know but you did the same thing to me. Only, of course, you undid me as well.

The decorations on top of that stupid jacket broke, just after we were finished but you didn’t mind. Namjoon showed it to you and you laughed. That was the first time I ever saw you happy. You said that it has fulfilled its duty and there’s no reason to worry anymore — it was all fine. 

You never knew it but as I watched you from the sidelines I thought what if I would join you, offer a joke, make your smile last longer. I really wanted to but…

…but I didn’t. I wasn’t blind — you found it hard to fit and I didn’t want to intrude. You didn’t seem to enjoy my presence and if some people would see me with you, they’d give you a hard time and I didn’t want to burden you. You were just blooming open, my touch no matter how well-intended would just damage your petals so I didn’t. I packed up my things and I walked past you without saying anything. 

What if I had? Would you have stayed then? Or would you have left all the same? Neither of us know the answer. 

I don’t hate you, I’m sorry for writing so in the last letter. I didn’t mean it. I would never mean it. All I can hope for now is that you’re happy wherever you are.

Sincerely apologetic, 

Jeon Jungkook. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: april again

Hello! 

It’s April and you know what that means, I get saddled with a new tutor yey (⋟﹏⋞) It’s strictly formal now and honestly kind of boring. I know you weren’t really my tutor back in the day, just helping me on the side hehe but I still appreciate you. It was also April then, April 28th, that we finally spoke like two human beings. Your voice was so tired but you seemed curious—

Jungkook lifted his head from the laptop of his home, suddenly feeling the betraying sting bite at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Don’t cry!” he scolded himself. “What’s the use of crying now that everything's done?”

Sensing his owner’s distress, Bam cautiously approached the crouched man and pressed his nose into Jungkook’s shin. He stared down at the dog, surprise in his expression hinting at the fact that for a second he’d forgotten Bam existed. For a second he was back with you. 

April 28th

“What are you doing?” the voice sounding near him was quiet. Somewhat curious but even more so perturbed. Jungkook detached himself from the table he’d slouched upon in the throes of his utter defeat. 

Seeing you though, the sleepy disquiet within him frayed and he swallowed nervously, trying his hardest to appear at complete ease. 

“Regretting life choices,” he groaned conversationally. “You?” 

“Just getting a soda,” you tossed your head towards the vending machine. It had an indent at the side. Rumour had it that one night Jin kicked it because he didn’t have enough money on him to buy a candy bar. It was, of course, just a rumour and Junkook knew it because he was the one who kicked the machine. 

He did sort of feel bad about it but he had been hungry. 

“Nothing nearly as dramatic.”

An awkward quiet settled between them. What are you thinking, Jungkook thought. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, a touch too long to be absolutely casual, and then quickly averted away as your lips pursed into a straight line, almost like you were reprimanding yourself. 

Maybe because you were prohibited from talking to him? It wouldn’t be the first time such an order took place as much as Jungkook hated it. 

“Do you need help?” your voice had been low, so deadpan he entirely missed that you’d spoken at all but when the realization hit, he had to force himself to not be too happy.

“It’d be nice if you did,” he gave a small smile, shuffling to make space for you on the couch. You stared at the newly liberated spot for a second but ultimately sat down if a bit stiffly. 

Peering into his notebook, you asked him:

“What do you have to do?” 

“Answer these questions using 10 words or less.”

You leaned your head to the side and as he took the next, shuddering breath, the scent of your shampoo filled him whole. It fit you like a glove. Immediately, he wanted more of it. 

“That’s a strange exercise,” you muttered and as Jungkook’s throat grew dry, he only shrugged in response. You’d given him details, solid answers and explanations but he still failed miserably. He hadn’t heard a thing you said over the sound of his heart rushing. 

Only the wet cold of Bam’s nose roused him from the memory. With a sad smile, he patted the dog’s head, feeling suddenly guilty to be looked at with such adoring eyes. 

“Good boy,” he whispered as Bam’s tail thwacked against the floor of his empty and quiet apartment. “Good boy, Bam.”

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: what’s next

Hello!

Have you been eating well? Have you been meeting up with friends? I remember you told me once, probably thinking I’ll forget it, that they’ve been missing you and you’ve been missing them. I didn’t forget — I remember. I hope you’ve gone out with them and that your cheeks glow the way they do when you’re really, really happy. I haven’t forgotten that either. I don’t want to. 

I…uh…I’ve stopped crying. I don’t why that’s so awkward to say, I mean you’re not even here. If anything I’m talking to myself. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it hehe. Don’t judge me, please.

Anyways I’ve stopped tearing up at random times. Now I’m just…I don’t know — numb? Unmotivated? In those few rare free days I don’t do much — just lie in my bed. I don’t have the strength to get out of it. Though some days it’s not so bad — I’m almost the way I was before. I go out, I eat ice-cream, take Bam out for good long walks — it’s almost normal but then inevitably I crash and I don’t want to move or go anywhere, or even speak with anyone. 

In fact, for the last week this is the most speaking I’ve done — writing this to you. I don’t why I keep it up but it helps. I myself don’t quite understand haha. I hope that tomorrow it’ll be a good day. My house has been a mess, my hair is kind of dirty and I think Bam is getting antsy cramped inside for extended periods of time. I have been declining my mom’s calls cause I don’t want to hear me like this. She’ll only worry and it’ll make the whole situation worse. I need to move but today I’ve sat here all day and thought of you. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: why?

wh do i =kep writinng to u? u;re nhot here whats the point?? whats the goodammn point> 

jimin found ou t about the leterc 

he didnt saay nuthign but the way he lookred at me…

pity

is ti a crime?????? to lvoe someone?? to want to tlak to them?? everyien else is lucjkf they cqan talk to thei r loved cnes but em?? im aloen so yesh i write yo you!! i wan t to be delusionalf i dont care fwha anyer says! youre my friend!  iw ill talk to you aven if tis patheti c even if tish thoguht lettters youll nevar read! i dont caare1

jminn thiggks im crayz

an I? 

have u maed me crazy?

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: I’m sorry

So…I got really drunk yesterday  (≡ε≡；) I can hold my liquor, don't get me wrong, but Jiminie drinks like he’s got a new liver lined up °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° But reading it over this morning (barely, my eyes are swollen) I recalled the fight that we had and that I never did apologize. I’m sorry that I took my anger out on you that one time. I should have said sorry already then. I didn’t but I was. Still am. 

May, 22nd

“You were supposed to go home hours ago.”

By now, he was well familiar with the voice and its disinterested tembre. You always sounded so…bored and for some reason today of all days Jungkook got pissed off because of it. 

You were always…looking down at him. Just like the others. You were judging him, weren’t you? Why else were you so distant? Why else did your face not change expressions as he got near you? You couldn’t stand him. You could see what he was behind the carefully curated smokescreen of what Jeon Jungkook was supposed to be. You saw him. Those weary, disturbingly observant eyes drilled right through what was supposed to be a charming, yet impenetrable wall. He didn’t truly know anyone and no one was supposed to truly know him. Yet in front of you he suddenly found himself bare.

“Why? Because you say so?” he spat from where he’d fallen on the floor. His ankle had given out and one point and when you came in he was panting from the pain. Of course, you’d see him in such a humiliating state. 

You blinked mutely at his sudden harshness. You weren’t friends, you weren’t allowed to be friends but still the relationship was amicable. For coworkers. Barely.

“You’re upset,” flatly you stated, one hand gripping the door handle far too tightly. 

“Yeah, no shit,” he grumbled. Why were you looking at him like that? Like you saw him?! Who even were you?!

“You’re upset but  that’s no reason for you to talk to me like this.”

As cold as a bucket of winter river. Your voice washed over him and Jungkook found himself not an injured wolf baring his teeth and protecting his den but a puppy, sopping wet and scrambling uselessly against the palm that had seized him by the scruff. 

“I’m a grown man.”

“Not right now.” 

You both came to standstill, glaring obstinately at each other. 

It had been the longest eye-contact Jungkook had with you. Shame it was out of anger. 

You drew an exhausted sigh as Jungkook brittled.  

“I understand you’re in pain and wanting perfection but be nicer to yourself.”

He scoffed harshly. 

“I don’t need your pity.”

Something in your gaze grew utterly frigid and all at once he was rendered deeply afraid. 

“And I’m not offering it to you.”

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: I’m sorry

So…I got really drunk yesterday  (≡ε≡；) I can hold my liquor but Jiminie drinks like he’s got a new liver lined up °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° Reading over that garbage this morning (barely, my eyes are swollen) I recalled the fight that we had and that I never did apologize. I’m sorry that I took my anger out on you that one time. I should have said sorry already then. I didn’t but I was. Still am.

For these last few days I keep thinking about what you said afterwards — when I finally mustered up the courage to grovel three days later. That I’m not someone you would pity and that I need not to apologize just change. You were so different then. You were strong. Stern. You didn’t take any of my shit and for that — thank you. I don’t know why but it made me love you more. 

Huh. I just said it. 

It’s kind of sad that you’ll never hear it.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: catching up! :D

HELLO!

It’s been two whole weeks since I last wrote to  you. We’ve been so busy, I’ve barely had the time to sit down >⌓<｡

How are you? How is life back home? Did you meet up with those friends of yours? Did you find a new job? Did you find someone…new?

Maybe don’t tell me that last one haha

I’ve been…good. It’s a surprise really. I don’t miss you any less than I did yesterday or I will tomorrow but there’s not that horridly heavy sense in my chest today. I don’t know what happened in the moments before I wrote to you last and now. Maybe because I remembered how miserable you were here. You ate alone, no one really spoke to you. They liked you! They really did! I just guess…it’s too different here. It couldn’t have been easy to always think about what to say, how to say it and how people will perceive you. I pondered how I feel when overseas and I…I understand now why you were so closed off. You must have been protecting yourself, weren’t you? Like I was that day when my ankle was twisted. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you came here at all, that we met but…I don’t want you here at the cost of your happiness. I think I’ve finally come to terms with that you left. Better you’re happy somewhere else, at your home with the people and things you know rather than you’re miserable here with me. I was not much of a help to you, wasn’t I? Always so scared of my own feelings and possibilities of future failings that I never even considered the present and how lonely you must have felt. I’m sorry that I wasn’t better for you.

I hope you’re among better people now. You deserve the world. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: something weird happened 

So as I said in the subject, something weird happened?? Do you remember Eun-joo? She came to the studio one day and you asked me whether she was my lover. I blushed so hard then (>\\\\\\<) I don’t even know why. Just hearing you say the word “lover” aaaah it sounded so scandalous hehehe I must be crazy

Anyway, back then I said no, well, I yelled it and your face scrunched up in that adorable way it does when you’re both surprised and confused but yesterday she…uh…asked me out? On a date? 

You never knew this but uhm…I kind of had a crush on her before you came along. I never asked her out because our schedules conflicted so much we barely spoke and I’ve always liked better to ask someone out in person, you know. And then well you arrived and uh…

I think you get it. 

But now you’re gone and I said yes to Eun-joo.  

Uh…was I allowed to do that? Why am I asking you? 「(°ヘ°)

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: hah 

So….I went on a date and uhm…

I rejected her. 

Well, somewhat. By the end of the evening, she was asking me about whom I was thinking about so much and well…it is true. I spent the entire night thinking about what you would have done, what you would have said instead of her. Unwittingly I found myself yearning not for her enthusiastic compliments but for your dry ass remarks. 

We’ve decided to stay as friends. 

I don’t think I’ll be dating anytime soon.

I’d say that I’m absolutely okay with you seeing someone but you know me — I’m jealous as all hell just thinking about it (￣ε￣)

Seoul in particular is the kind of city that never sleeps. Jungkook is once again made sure of that when he tries to sleep but cannot. Bam’s snores fill up the otherwise quiet room as he tosses to and fro. This last letter, about the deep clean,  is not giving him rest. He keeps recalling that rainy day in the park, not even wishing he’d done things differently but just wishing he could still see you. That this…hope, twisting around his neck like a noose, would end. If he would bear no hope he wouldn’t still dream, would he? He would be able to rest, wouldn’t he?

God, he needs to rest. He’s given you his mind and soul and if you were his sun, you could spare him at least some clarity. He didn’t care anymore — be it cold or cruel. He needed to be let go even if he probably won’t let you go himself. 

Jumping out the bed, he makes a quick beeline to the still running laptop. Bam rattles in his cage, disturbed by the sudden movement but his eyes fall too heavily to muster up a bark. Seconds later, he’s already slumbering. While Jungkook is wide awake, fingers clattering noisily against the keyboard.

June 16th

The small bottle of milk flowed just underneath his nose as heartless rain continued to pelt the ground below. Thick smell of petrichor swirled the air around. Stunned, Jungkook lifted his head and traced the hand that held the milk for him. 

Seeing you he gave a feeble smile. 

Of course you would be here when he thought he was alone. 

“How did you find me?” he rasped, accepting the bottle though not moving to puncture the small foliage. 

With a sigh, you settled on the swing next to his — it produced a horribly dragged out screech. 

“I didn’t,” you shrugged. “I just walked by and saw you.” 

“And just so happened to have my favourite brand of milk?” he arched an eyebrow and because the rain made his eyes blurry, he thought, he deluded himself for a second that you blushed. Blushed and darted your gaze guiltily away to settle upon the crowded Seoul horizon. 

“I’ve noticed you drinking it so I bought it…to try,” you coughed and silence fell upon the world. 

The day was hot, extremely humid, even the falling rain did not help in the matter. Why did he come here, to this empty park on the far side of the city Jungkook did not know. Could it be….no, that was impossible. Nothing so childishly romantic could not take root in a cruel, unforgiving reality. 

“You’re feeling down again?” you inquired, swinging back and forth, the plastic bag swinging next to  you. He wondered what you bought, what you ate to feel good and full. 

“Yeah, just a bit,” he lied, scuffing the soles of his shoes against the ground. 

“A bit,” you repeated in a barely audible mutter. “Are you sure it’s a bit?”

“Do you think I’m lying?” 

But despite the shortness of time, Jungkook had changed. His voice held neither malice, nor challenge. In fact the irony was all but obvious in the lilt of his tone. He was lying and you knew that he was. 

“Yes,” easily, you replied, pulling a snort of amusement from the depths of his chest. “You’re mostly a terrible liar but also surprisingly good when it comes to hiding yourself.”

“And are you?” Jungkook asked, daring for the first time to take a proper look at you. It was so…difficult. For him it was like staring at the sun. It was oftentimes easier to not look lest he dreamt too much. “Are you a good liar?”

You stared at the ground, closing your eyes for a brief second of what seemed to be utter heartbreak. 

“I’m an excellent liar,” you murmured. When you opened your eyes once more, the bout of sudden vulnerability was gone. You shuck it off like dogs did water and once again Jungkook sat absolutely mesmerized at how you were able to do it. 

“But it can’t be helped,” you concluded firmly. 

“Why are you an excellent liar?” Jungkook teased you further, feeling the beat of his heart stumble and clamber. Maybe…

“I’m in love with someone but…it’s not reciprocated,” you swung back and forth, purposefully avoiding his gaze. 

The excited dash of his heart came crashing down, punching up arid bile at the back of Jungkook’s throat. In love with another, huh. 

“Why do you think it’s not reciprocated?” gently, he questioned, gripping the milk between his trembling fingers.  

“It just can’t be,” you refuted stubbornly. “I think he sees me in the same way people do…desks. Or notebooks.”

“Notebooks?” 

“Yeah, you know,” you pursed your lips and the sheer amount of grief that passed your features made Jungkook sick. Whoever this son of a bitch was that made you this said deserved a motorbike in the face.  “People can genuinely like their stuff until they’re in good use but once that use runs out,” you sucked a breath through your gritted teeth. “They replace it and forget all about them in the end. It’s that sort of like.”

“That smooth-brained son of a bitch,” he cried out angrily. “Damn, I should beat that foul smelling dickwad to the last inch of his life. How dare he treat our fairy like that?!”

Tearily you laughed and more than anything Jungkook wanted to hold your hand and lull the pain. But he couldn’t. He had no place in your life. Not really. So he held the milk instead — the bottle popping up from the pressure underneath his palm. 

Dumbly, you both looked as it leaked down onto the ground. 

“Smooth-brained,” you chuckled to yourself. “Perhaps. But he smells nice.”

Jungkook tried not to sulk at this new piece of information. Too many nice-smelling but dumb people rolled around the circles of his acquaintances  — he couldn’t track the son of a bitch down even if he tried. He had no idea how lucky he was. Jungkook’s sun was giving him warmth and he dared not to care for it. 

“What’s got you looking so dour yourself?” 

“Oh,” he swallowed nervously, his gaze rapidly growing so hazy, even when staying still, he could swear the world was trembling. “I like someone myself. They’re kind to me, strict albeit kind, however…” he sat, transfixed somberly on the ground. One glimpse at you and he’d break. One glimpse and he’d force this ocean of his feelings upon you. He’d make you feel bad — it was always awkward to hear a love confession from someone whom you did not like. So he had to be strong. Had to be strong for you, as strange as it sounded. “I’m not good enough for them.”

“That’s nonsense,” you scoffed, beginning to swing back and forth. The ends of your shoes grew wet as briefly you found yourself amidst the rain. 

“I meant me, just Jeon Jungkook, is not good enough,” he clarified with an eye roll. “I didn’t mean Jungkook the idol.”

“Neither did I."

The rain kept pouring the entire afternoon and it was one of the happiest days Jungkook had ever lived through. 

Shame you left soon after. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: please

Even if...even if the year we spent together meant nothing to you, that the kindness you extended towards me, that the help you sent my way unknowingly pulling me from a pit of inescapable darkness is nothing but an empty void, no more deserving of your attention than the dirt on the side of the road, I beg of you to be gracious once more. Just write to me. Just one letter is all I ask for. No matter what you have to say, should it be something as little as one singular "bye", please, write to me. I'll keep you in my thoughts, forever most likely as you've made your home in them.

Sincerely, 

Jeon Jungkook.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms;

 © soraviie, 2023

[tallbluelady]

Your OC, Rowan, is alone in a supposedly haunted building or abandoned ruin.

Rowan had been in an odd mood since she overheard Y'shtola and Urianger's conversation about her aether. That Urianger was hiding aught from her but sought to court her... Well, the ruins surrounding Fannow had called to her to explore just then. Unfortunately, their so-called ally had to taunt her newly improving skills in magic after she cut her hand. She was certain he was left behind, but her skin was still crawling from meeting Emet-Selch. She was a bit surprised that Lahabrea hadn't caused as much irritation while he possessed Thancred, because she did remember Nabriales doing so. Mayhap the Ascians could cloak their aether when they possessed someone. I wonder what Urianger thinks about that...

She sighed at that thought. Despite the fact that he was lying to her, at least by omission, Rowan still felt drawn to Urianger. He sought to be her refuge during this time and with his mere presence and gentle words he was. And whenever he soothed the young Minfilia, Rowan felt her heart melt. There was plenty to want.

If you looked past the secrets.

She supposed there was an irony that the man she trusted the least was being the most forthright with information about the state of her soul. He created the Garlean Empire, and revels in it. Forthrightness means nothing in the face of that.

Rowan then tilted her head. There was a soft hum under the general cacophony of the forest. She pushed a curtain of vines and the hum got louder. She gasped when she saw a figure laid out on a bed of sorts. She tapped on a few tiles with her rapier first - though the weapon was expensive, it would be replaceable - and found nothing strange there. After giving the room a once over for any Ronkan Owls and finding none, she tossed a stone near the bed to see if the occupant would awaken before stepping closer to them. With the figure remaining immobile, Rowan approached.

Twas a male figure, with Viera - Viis, here - features and besides the lime green paint on his face, he was deathly, wickedly white. He was surrounded by dried flowers and small trinkets. Offerings?

"Dead, I hope. Poor bastard looks like he was on the brink of turning," Ardbert said, appearing next to Rowan.

"Tis almost as if someone put him in stasis to prevent that from happening..." she murmured, thinking back to Alexander. She pulled back her hand at that thought.

"Scared to touch the dead, hero?" Emet-Selch drawled from the doorway.

Rowan saw Ardbert give a snarl that she wanted to give the Ascian. She rolled her eyes. "I'm using an onze of caution, Ascian. There could be any number of enchantments on the figure. I only have my one body to inhabit, and I intend to keep it whole."

Emet-Selch raised an eyebrow and sauntered closer. Rowan felt her hackles raise and maneuvered so that he wasn't blocking the doorway. "From what you're doing with the Lightwardens, I'd say that you're doing a rather poor job of it. Or are you saving yourself to be a proper sacrifice?"

"What else is there to be done? I don't see you taking upon the Lightwarden's aether, though mayhap it would do you some good to struggle."

"The defeat of the Lightwardens and the salvation of this world is your trial, hero. I may offer aid, but the heavy lifting is left to you and yours. If you cannot solve that problem on your own, then what use are you to solving mine?"

"I suppose you'll have your way no matter the outcome. You either get a reliable ally, or this shard collapses into a proper calamity." Rowan shook her head. "Anyroad, I've enough of you for the day. I'll return to the others so you don't feel so comfortable bothering me. After I've paid my respects."

With that, she knelt at the dais of the figure and placed a few pressed blossoms she kept in her pack. Though it never felt as if it was enough, she whispered a silent prayer to whatever gods the Viis had in life. Then she felt the rush of an Echo vision.

*   *   *

This wasn't a typical vision, Rowan realized, as she felt she had control of herself. The Viis man tilted his head, studying her. He had dark mahogany skin and black hair in life. And green eyes that matched his face paint.

"Why do you feel so familiar?" he asked in the accent of the Fannow villagers.

Rowan shrugged. "I'm close to you in the waking world."

The man's ears twitched. "There's another familiar presence... and then a putrid one."

"Aye, that would describe my companions at the moment... But who are you? Are you still alive?" Rowan asked.

"They called me Moth Orchid when I was still walking. Though my soul hasn't returned to the lifestream, I can't claim to be one of the living."

She gave a sad hum and shook her head.

"I'll have to release you from this state - you can't be safe with Emet-Selch nearby."

"How do you know it's him?" she asked.

"I met him! A lover of mine became infatuated with him and his secrets. But he cannot be trusted. Even if he says that he wants to work with you, it's... it's not truly you he wants. It's a ghost, a shade he seeks."

Rowan nodded. "Thank you for the clarity. I need every clue I can get to deal with him."

Moth Orchid nodded back. "Anything for a fellow adventurer, Rowan. Were there a way to do aught more than just warn you... though mayhap..."

He reached out his hand and Rowan mirrored him. There was a warmth, then another rush.

*   *   *

Rowan gasped as the world fell back into place. She was still kneeling at the dais but Moth Orchid's body was gone. A whirl of wind floated the flowers and dust, catching on the shafts of light that peeked through the ceiling of the chamber. One of her pressed blossoms settled neatly on her hand, almost as if Moth Orchid placed it there himself.

She turned, and found Ardbert was still kneeling next to her.

"Emet-Selch left as soon as you started praying. Almost as if he couldn't stand your sincerity for the moment."

"Did... did you know who that was?" Rowan asked, motioning to the empty dais.

He shook his head. "I don't think I ever saw him before the flood. And I would remember if I saw him in my listless wanderings."

"His name was Moth Orchid. He was an adventurer like you and me."

"Was he now? Just proves how harrowing this job is. As if my presence wasn't enough."

Rowan shrugged and gathered her possessions. Taking stock of herself, she felt much more at ease. What ever Moth Orchid was able to give would see her to the next step, at the very least.

She never even worried that he knew her name.

[jokertrap-ran]

[Kuroshitsuji Collab] 6★ William T. Spears (SUN) Translation SS 特別編 規定違反者には制裁を Secret Story: For Those Who Violate the Rules, Punishment

“Heading to Gartina in search of clues with him…”

CV: 杉山 紀彰 (Sugiyama Noriaki)

*Yume100 Masterlist *Requested by A. Carina Spears~ *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Name will remain as my normal ( ラン ) *T/N: And this wraps up William's Yume 100 x Black Butler Collab story!!!

Sun Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Final Chapter / Secret Story Normal / Moon + SS

The sun shone down upon the street, making the red gems that decorated the area sparkle lustrously beneath the light.

Today, William and I were out once more in search of leads that would help bring him home…

We'd been to Saphinia to broaden the scope of our investigations, and now, our next stop was none other than Gartina.

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━  

William: Let's split up here to increase our efficiency.

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━  

(Now that we've split up, I wonder if William’s investigation is going smoothly…)

The thought clamored in my head as I walked the city for a while. Until…

??: Ow! Stop it! Wait, nooo- don't stop~!!!

I heard something that sounded vaguely like a scream as I passed by a jewelry store.

(What's going on here…?)

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━  

Unable to help my curiosity, I poked my head into the store, only to stop short. My eyes widened at the sight.

There was a red-haired man crouched on all fours on the ground in the middle of the shop.

(That's…)

And the man that had his foot on him had an ever so familiar poker face… It was none other than William, himself. 

Ran: …William-san!?

William: You are neglecting your duties. There are still countless souls out there waiting to be collected. And yet, why are you here, fooling around?

Not noticing me, William continued mercilessly trampling the red-haired man.

(Should I… step in…?)

However, it appeared that I was worried for nothing as a blush adorned the red-haired man’s cheeks.

??: Ahhh, that gaze that's colder than an iceberg, and an attack that's way more ruthless than a dream eater…!

??: Yes! This is great! My body is burning up!!!

William: …

The sound of William kicking the red-haired man echoed throughout the store.

Unable to cut in or intervene, I simply stood there, staring at them in a daze.

And soon enough…

William: You.

William looked up from the man on the ground who'd passed out with a happy look on his face.

I reflexively straightened up as he addressed me.

William: What are you looking at? Is the investigation proceeding smoothly?

Ran: Err, is… is that guy…

I looked at the red-haired man on the ground. William cast another terrifyingly icy glare at him.

William: He's just a worthless dispatch agent who cannot even do his job right.   Ran: Is he… alright?

Fearing that he might retaliate, I voiced my question rather meekly. His glasses glinted sharply in the light.

William: No mercy will be shown to those who violate the rules. I must return to my world as soon as possible, for I have souls to collect.

He responded calmly, pushing the bridge of his glasses up once more.

(I feel a little bad for the guy…)

Just as I looked back up at William who was already briskly walking away from the scene…

??: Wait a minute, Will!

The red-haired man suddenly raised his head, glaring at me with a terrifyingly venomous expression.

??: Who IS this WOMAN!? You already have me, yet you… How crue-

Yet, William had already stomped down hard on the back of his head once more before he could even finish his sentence.

??: Urk-!!!

Ran: Oh…

The red-haired man’s head had hit the ground so hard that it was half-buried in the tiles.

However, William seemed unfazed by the fact as he turned to me with an air of utter calmness.

William: You've just wasted 3 minutes and 51 seconds.   Ran: Right… I'll get back to investigating.

I'd somehow managed to form words despite the slight fear taking shape within me.

William: Good grief. If this carries on, I won't be able to get off work on time today either.

He breathed a small sigh before curtly leaving the shop.

I glanced at the red-haired man on the floor. He looked blissed out…

(Just what is their relationship with each other…?)

Although slightly reluctant to do so, I quickly sprinted after the back of William's straight and dignified figure…

The END

[hell-of-blazing-fires]

Look at this pouty ass Akyuu right now

[The tiles that I cannot cut are next to none CH 19]

[sannyo-appreciation-posts]

[moonlight-eternal]

[A video is attached.]

[The video is filmed from a camera attached to Gwyndolin's mask, as usual. She moves toward the gym, which still appears as a normal house like any other in Anistar City, and opens the door. The inside also looks like a standard living space, with a carpet in the middle of the floor. A gym attendant looks up at her entrance.]

Welcome! Your arrival was anticipated, challenger Gwyndolin. Gym Leader Olympia awaits on the battlefield. Simply step onto the center of the carpet to–

[At the corner of the room, Olympia herself appears suddenly in a shower of sparkles like tiny stars. She has her cloak pulled tightly around her and fastened, showing only the mirrored silver exterior.]

Olympia? What– I'm sorry, ma'am, I... didn't anticipate this.

You are here at last. [Olympia takes a step closer and examines Gwyndolin.] I can see at just a glance: none of it is true.

None of what?

You have seen the stares. You have heard the whispers spread. I can tell you why.

Stand on the carpet. It will take you to the gym. There I will tell all.

[Olympia walks onto the middle of the carpet, and vanishes the same way she had appeared.]

But we are already in the gym... another part, then. An interesting concept, this region ensorcelled with teleportation bound into a glyph. I will remember that for personal use, once I return home. For right now... I prefer the certainty of mine own magic.

[Gwyndolin points her catalyst at the warp tile for a few seconds and a very faint golden glow swirls around the end of it. That light fades, and she then waves the catalyst in a simple pattern that ends with holding it vertically in front of her chest, as two concentric circles of golden light appear in front of her, with runes set between them. The camera's viewpoint defocuses in a rapid slide until nothing at all can be seen, then blinks back all at once to a new scene.]

[Gwyndolin and Olympia now stand next to each other on a walkway over the gym battlefield, with the entire building now visible as a large domed structure with the interior painted with stars. Olympia walks slightly ahead down the path, only sometimes looking back as she speaks.]

A stranger passed by through Anistar days ago. They said, trust you not.

I cannot recall any more than words of theirs. Their face, lost to me.

I know the one of whom thou speakest. We Fell from the same world, though I do not know their name, nor why they mean me harm. It is dreadfully difficult to hold a memory of this person in one's thoughts, for they slip away so easily – however, a camera doth capture their image like any other. I can show thee what I have recorded, incidentally only, for one cannot focus one's attention upon them.

Later, yes, you should. I am curious to see. Or see again, for them.

You say this stranger did spread rumors, anticipating mine arrival here? To hinder me, no doubt, and slow the pursuit of justice after they did threaten me in Snowbelle. And then they maketh themself forgotten, and all do repeat what they have heard, knowing no longer that the source was one untrustworthy.

The endless problem, and not one that can be solved. It is good you're here.

We can speak further once a badge is in your hand. Shall we battle now?

I would enjoy that. This will be my third so far. Let the fight begin!

[While Olympia walks ahead to another warp tile, Gwyndolin raises her catalyst again and teleports down to one side of the battlefield. She looks up, finding Olympia still traversing the walkways above, then reaches up to take the camera off of her mask. The view briefly points at the floor before abruptly cutting off.]

[Video ends.]

[nicomrade]

Touhou - The Tiles That I Cannot Cut Are Next To None! (2020) Yuki Hayahiro

[studentofetherium]

[chireikiden]

The final chapter. The end of mahjong as we know it. MangaDex.