#you would think it’s a romantic poem but the description says it’s about a friend

[sapphothetic]

“i can’t hide a love that has drained my body” studying for my arabic final

[stellamancer]

beyond the unending night (reader + satoru gojo)

notes: it's finally here. the long awaited halloween fic. yes, i know it's march, but i did start working on it in september. haha. there's so much i could say, but i will leave it at that this fic is, in every sense, a fic that i would not normally write. and yet here we are.

contains: f!reader (no physical description or gendered language is used), no explicit romantic pairing (though you don't have to look hard to find the reader x gojo implications), major character death (played with), semi-graphic depictions of death, blood and violence, minor suicide ideation, canon retelling (lines of dialogue are pulled from the jjk english dub because i'm a dirty dub watcher). opening poem is from higurashi no naku koro ni (minagoroshi-hen). fic title is from giga's beyond the way.

please note that this is a time loop fic and, by nature contains repeating scenes (particularly from canon). please do not read this fic if you do not like that sort of thing.

wc: 21,883 read on ao3 (account required) || playlist

Please tell me what happened in this night. It's like the cat inside the box.

Please tell me what happened in this night. You don't know if the cat in the box is dead or alive. Please tell me what happened in this night. The cat in the box was dead.

The first time, it is instant— you don’t even know what’s happening.

The second, it is by flame, but you barely realize it, barely feel it— a second of mind numbing heat before nothing.

The third time, it is something slicing across your throat; you see the blood spilling everywhere, then the pain follows— a moment of pure agony before nothing.

The fourth time you realize what’s going on; what’s really going on.

You realize you’ve been dying.

You think your head is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because the subway platform is crowded, insanely so— there are hundreds of people shoved into this space alongside you, packed like sardines in a can. You’ve never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you live in Tokyo. For the most part, you’ve learned to accept it, but even this crowd is a little much and you wish you hadn’t listened to your friends when they said you should go party in Shibuya for Halloween; you don’t even like partying.

There’s a sharp pain in your temple followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone is screaming it at you through a megaphone positioned right next to your ear.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

For the eighth time.

Before you can even question the thought, images flash in your mind’s eye, blurry at first before they come into focus. The platform gates open. Chaos ensues. People dropping onto the subway tracks— spontaneously bursting into flame— their heads, necks sliced off, stomachs cut open—

Bile rapidly builds up in your throat, and you clamp your jaw shut, trying to force it down. Not here. Not now. You try to focus on something else, anything else happening outside of your brain. There’s a pair next to you musing about the people standing on the subway tracks, wondering what the two (the four?) of them are talking about. You blink back tears as you look. You can only see two: a freakishly tall man with white hair dressed in all black, and another man, dressed in strange, yet more traditional looking garb. Are those costumes too? You don’t have a lot of time to think about it as another image forces its way into your brain.

Your corpse— lifeless on the ground.

Your corpse— burning to ash.

Your corpse— bleeding out.

You can’t hold it in any more. Every fiber in your being screams at you to get away from the subway tracks, but instead you rush toward them, shoving people left and right as your hands desperately reach the stability of the gate. You grip it like a lifeline as you retch over the side of it, the contents of your stomach spilling all over the subway tracks.

There’s a quiet murmur of disgust behind you but you can’t be bothered to respond. You need to get out of here. You need to leave. You need to do it before—

The gates open and the crowd starts to move like a tidal wave, pushing and shoving their way through the gate. You’re swept away, vomit long forgotten as you and a few dozen others tumble onto the railway.

Alarm bells go off in your brain, loud and deafening. A voice in the back of your head screams for you to get off the track! Get off the track now before—

The platform erupts into a cacophony of screams, drenched in horror, saturated in fear. You are surrounded by people, by corpses— beheaded, sliced open, bursting into flames.

Your terror roots you to the ground as the carnage ensues around you. It’s only when another person, another corpse, dressed in a magical girl costume collides with your body that you can finally move. But it’s too late, you realize, despaired and helpless, as your bodies fall to the ground.

It’s too late.

You die an eighth time.

You think your chest is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because it’s so hard to breathe, frustratingly so— there are hundreds of people squeezed into this space alongside you, packed like cattle for slaughter. You've never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you’re in Shibuya. For the most part, you’ve come to accept it, but this crowd is way too much and you wish you had just stayed home and ordered a pizza; though honestly, the thought of pizza kind of makes you sick.

There’s a dull throbbing in your forehead, followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone’s hollering at you from a loudspeaker that’s been installed in your brain.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You think it's the ninth time now.

Behind you, you hear a woman screaming, her voice crazed and terrified. You turn your head automatically to look at her and when you see her you realize you recognize her yellow and white magical girl costume. You can say with certainty that you’ve never seen her before and yet—

Before you can ruminate more on it, images— memories assault your mind’s eye with a clarity that is absolutely sickening. That woman colliding into you, your bodies slamming into the subway tracks before you both— Your stomach churns violently,

and you feel like you’re going to puke, but you force it down— can't afford to right now. Instead, you make your way over to the woman.

Her head is in her hands as she mutters over and over again about how everyone is going to die. People around her figure that being stuck in here with the crowd has probably gotten to her. You, however, know better.

“...hey,” you say softly.

Her muttering comes to an abrupt halt and slowly she raises her head to look at you. There’s a flash of recognition in her eyes and she grabs you violently by the shoulders. “You! You know, don’t you? That we’re going to die?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you have indeed experienced death here eight times already, then you would have thought she’s lost her mind. Slowly, you nod and she seems relieved by it, her grip on you loosening.

You can’t help but feel a little relieved too— glad to know that you’re not the only one experiencing this nightmare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that’s confused though. Why is she only remembering now? But then again, it took you a few times before you realized yourself.

Around you people start to gasp, and you glance back toward the railway to see an abnormally tall man with white hair and dressed in all black jump down from the atrium onto the railway. He lands rather gracefully for someone who jumped at least one floor and starts to converse with the other three people (you think they're people— two of them are in some pretty wild costumes) on the track.

Wait. Isn’t it supposed to be just two people: the tall man and the one in the traditional clothes? Where did the other two come from?

“We have to get out of here,” the woman says. “Before they kill us.”

Her grip shifts from your shoulders to your arms and she starts to shove at everyone around you, trying to force her way through. She seems to know, just as well as you do, that any second now the gates will open and the crowd will start spilling onto the railway, littering the tracks with bodies and ash. Neither of you can let yourselves get swept up with the rest. If you do and you end up on those tracks, you’re as good as dead.

People move aside at a snail's pace, many of them too focused on trying to see what is going on on the subway tracks. This isn't good. You need to move faster or else—

The collective sound of the gates opening echoes in your head, a metallic hiss that makes your stomach fold into itself. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you both whip your heads back to look, to confirm, but it’s a mistake.

The briefest lapse in attention is enough to pull you both into the current of people, and try as you might to fight against it, the crowd splits you and the woman apart as it swallows you both whole. You’re both spat onto the tracks at the edge of the platform and your head collides with the metal rails of the track. It feels like your skull is about to crack in two, and it takes every fiber in your being to scramble to your feet. You're close enough to the platform that if you can just climb up it, then you'll be—

“Help! Help!”

It’s the woman’s voice. You turn to see that she ended up a couple meters away from you. She’s staring at you, eyes brimming with fear filled tears as she extends her hand in your direction. You take a step toward her, reaching out.

And then, her entire body is engulfed in flames, the skirt of her magical girl costume a ring of fiery death around her.

Her blood curdling scream is the only thing you can hear, her burning flesh, the only thing you can see. You don’t know what to do.

You can’t save her.

There's something touching your back. You can barely feel the pressure, but it's hot, scorching hot, mind numbingly hot, painfully hothothot.

You know this sensation. You have felt it before. The scent of burning cloth, burning hair, burning flesh clogs your nostrils. It's too late, you realize, helpless, despaired as the flames eat at your body— your soon to be corpse.

It's too late.

You die a ninth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the tenth time.

Your head hurts, but you ignore it. There’s something more important that you need to attend to. You immediately make your way to the woman you met during your last round, the one you watched burn to death. Her costume is still pristine, unmarred by fire and death.

For now.

She’s not screaming this time and while there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that’s concerned by this, you try to ignore it.

“Um, excuse me?” you say when she doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach.

The woman turns to look at you. You’re taken aback by the distinct lack of recognition and it feels almost as if the woman you encountered previously and the one before you now are two separate people. In a way, they technically are.

“Do I… know you?” she finally asks when you don’t say anything.

Your mouth is dry. How do you even answer that? You don’t know her. You just watched her die twice. You know her. She begged you for help. You couldn’t save her.

If you explain all of this you know she’s just going to think you’ve lost your mind. Maybe you already have— you’ve died nine times after all.

You give her a weak smile. “I… just wanted to tell you that you think your costume looks great.”

She blinks, taken aback by your words. There’s no doubt that she wasn’t expecting you to say that. It’s the truth though, her costume is nice; she’s dressed up as a character from a magical girl anime that was popular a couple years ago.

“Thank you! I made it myself!” The woman breaks out into a genuine smile and your heart hurts. In a few moments she’ll die and the costume she worked so hard to make will be nothing but ash on the subway tracks.

“Sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“For?”

For watching her die. For not being able to save her.“...I just kind of came up to you all of a sudden…”

She laughs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

You consider telling her that she should try to move. That if she stays here she will die. You don’t want her to die. Again. You can still hear her screaming in your ears as she burned to death. You want to tell her.

You don’t.

“Stay safe, okay?” you say. It almost sounds like you’re begging.

She gives you another smile, kind and gentle and you think you’re far too undeserving of it for not telling her what fate will soon befall her. “You too.”

“I’ll try,” you say and move away from the woman just as the gates open and the crowd surges toward the railway. You do not fight it as you are swept up into the crowd and despite what you said, you do not try, this time, to stay safe.

You die for the tenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the fourteenth time.

There’s a slight ache in your head, but it’s subtle enough that you can ignore it. The pain you feel lessens with each round and you think it’s a sign that your body no longer feels the need to remind you of the precarious situation that you’re in.

Or maybe you are just becoming numb to everything: your death, the death of the people around you, the death of the woman in the magical girl costume—

You try not to think about it too much as you reach into your bag to check the time on your phone: 8:37PM. There’s not a lot of time: you need to move.

At the very end of your last attempt to escape this nightmare you realized something. You need to know exactly what is going on around you so you can plan accordingly: where to not stand, where to not go. Up until now, you’ve relied almost solely on the knowledge gained from your previous failures to try and survive, but obviously it’s not enough to keep you alive. You’re not sure why you didn’t realize this earlier. The panic, maybe? The fear?

Maybe you really are becoming numb to all this.

Unlike previous iterations, this time you elect to move closer to the gate, positioning yourself somewhere against it where you’re unlikely to be pushed off the platform in a couple minutes when they open. You take great care to place yourself where you can see the ones responsible for the slaughter very clearly. At the beginning, you could only see one, the one who looks the most human, but with each repetition, the other two have become more and more clear. You wonder why. You don’t have time to think about it.

Murmurs nearby alert you to the arrival of the fourth major player involved in the night’s events. You look up and see the white haired man dressed in all black descending upon the platform like an angel from the heavens. This is your first time really looking at him and you realize there’s something almost inhumanly attractive about him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it occurs to you that you shouldn’t even try; you don’t have the time to be drooling over some handsome stranger.

You’ve naturally never taken the time to try and listen to whatever the conversation the man and his opponents have before all hell breaks loose on the platform, but you try and lean closer to listen. It’s hard to hear over the dozens of conversations going on behind you, but you try anyway. There might be a clue to what’s actually going on— or better yet, a clue on how to get out of it.

It’s obvious that you’re missing context from what bits of the conversation you do manage to hear, but honestly it all sounds like stuff out of a shounen battle manga. There is one part of the exchange that you manage to hear with a startling sort of clarity. It feels almost as if your heart stops beating as your blood turns ice cold in your veins.

“If I run away, you’re just gonna kill everyone here, right?” the man in black asks.

There’s a pause, and if your heart was still beating it’d be long enough for just four heartbeats.

“If you run away?” The monster with cane repeats, the sadistic grin spreading wide across its features, displaying its charcoal black teeth. The gravelly sound of its voice sets fire to the blood in your veins, your stilled heart thumping wildly, in fear, in anticipation. Soon. It’s happening soon. You brace yourself. “We’re going to do that even if you don’t!”

You die a fourteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the seventeenth time now.

Things are going surprisingly well, even as the people around you tumble onto the tracks. You manage to hold on, desperation keeping you from falling into the abyss. This is good, you tell yourself, despite the fact that it’s not the first time you’ve achieved this. Every little victory is worth celebrating, but you have to remain vigilant. This is yet another information gathering loop, and while you know that maybe this time you’ll be lucky and live, there’s still a chance, a big one, at that, that you will die again.

You have to make the most of each and every death.

It’s such a morbid thought, but the ends justify the means, or so you tell yourself. If you have to die a few times to make it out of this unending nightmare, then so be it.

The spot you’re in is a good vantage point; it’s easier to see everything happening below you. It’s so good that it’s actually sickening. You watch as the monster with the cane and one with what looks like branches for eyes slaughter the people on the track, mowing them down, setting them aflame. In another life, in another many lives, that was you down there, and for what feels like the first time in forever, you feel like you’re going to be sick. You feel like, at some point, you likened the scene before you to some kind of shounen battle manga, but you think that was wrong.

This is borderline horror.

Everything plays out before you like a scene out of an action horror flick. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were just an extra on set, but you know the reality is that you’re just an extra to whatever phantasmal battle is taking place in front of you. The monsters and the strangely dressed man all try to attack the man in black, but he manages to block every hit effortlessly, as if he is protected by some sort of invisible barrier. When it seems the two monsters are about to hit him, he merely jumps out of the way and the two monsters seem to collide, the force of their combined strength sending a gust of air throughout the crowd. The man in black neatly lands on a nearby platform half wall and says something about curse users, whatever those are, to the monsters, before he starts to mock them, pulling down his strange blindfold in the process.

And this, you’ve found, is where you start to get in trouble.

You clearly remember thinking, at some point, previously, that there was something attractive about this man. You still don’t know what it is. You haven’t had the time to try and figure it out, but there is one thing that you do know: you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He drops back down onto the tracks, antagonizing his opponents in an arrogant tone as he approaches. When he comes to a stop between the two monsters, the second round of their fight begins. They try to hit him, but he dodges still, gracefully, fluidly, like the three of them are embroiled in some sort of passionate, yet violent dance.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he cruelly rips off one of the arms of the one-eyed monster.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he brutally kicks the branch-eyed monster in the abdomen, sending them flying to the other side of the platform.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he effortlessly hurls the one-eyed, now one-armed monster in the same direction, sending them smashing into the wall.

Only when the man in black seems to fly to the other side is the spell over you seemingly broken. Still, your eyes give chase, and your body too, rushing from one side of the platform to the other. You can’t lose sight of this fight, you tell yourself, settling in a spot you recall being safe during your last round. Doing so could mean another death, another loop, another October 31.

You watch as the man in black acrobatically dodges what looks to be vines or roots that the monster with branches for eyes seems to have summoned from the depths of the Tokyo metro. He lands on the monster’s shoulders, balancing on them as he uses its branch-eyes for leverage. The look in the man’s eyes is so crazed that you can see it from where you’re standing. He says something to it and then—

With a feral and sadistic smile, he rips their eyes straight out of their skull.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest as you watch the fight unfold. It is horrifyingly, disgustingly violent, yet still you watch as people on the track are killed by the human-like person, blood raining down as their freshly beheaded skulls go flying into the air. He and the one-eyed monster launch their counter attacks against the man in black and the blowback is so intense the power goes out causing everyone to scream.

There’s a faint glow where the man in black is standing that starts to grow brighter and brighter. You can make out his form turning to face the wall, and it seems almost like he’s slammed the monster that had branches for eyes against it with some sort of telekinetic power. Despite the panic from the people around you, you manage to hear him, chuckling like a mad man as he draws closer and closer to the monster.

The one-eyed monster yells out a name, a name you think must belong to the man, but he doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as he extends his hands out toward the eyeless monster, exerting some kind of force that you can’t really see. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as the eyeless monster’s entire body is vaporized in a flash of blue light. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster, as the lights flicker back on revealing a smoking crater stained with purple blood where the eyeless monster once stood.

But you do.

Satoru Gojo.

You make sure to remember that.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And this is the eighteenth time.

You watch as the man called Satoru Gojo stalks through the crowd of people on the subway tracks, chasing after the one-eyed fire monster. It throws people at him, in a clear attempt to slow him down.

It does not work.

Satoru Gojo climbs back onto the platform in a way that you can only describe as inhuman, and the people nearby shriek and move away from him, out of terror, out of fear. You, on the other hand, draw closer, refusing to lose sight of him.

He is relentless in his pursuit of the one-eyed monster. It continues to throw person after person at him, but he does not stop and the people float there, suspended in midair before they are gently lowered to the ground by some unseen force and scramble away.

No one dares get close to Satoru Gojo, everyone on the platform seems to know that doing so means certain death, yourself included. But you still feel the need to keep an eye on him. The monster and the strangely dressed man are focusing more on him than the crowd— anyone in between is just collateral damage.

But not you.

Especially since you’ve made it this far— you’ve never made it this far before.

A voice echoes throughout the platform; you realize it’s the automated announcement.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You can hear everyone’s relief coming from all sides. The train is coming! The train is coming! A ripple of hope makes its way throughout the crowd. With the train comes the chance to get off the platform and the senseless violence that’s been happening here. Some of the people around you are talking excitedly and others are running toward the gates, toeing the yellow line they’ve been instructed to wait behind. And you, you should be excited, you should be hopeful.

All you feel is dread.

It eats at your stomach, at your chest, at your mind. Clawing and gnawing at you in a way that leaves you paralyzed on the platform. There’s something wrong here. You can’t be sure because you’ve never made it this far, never survived long enough for the train to come, but something is just not right.

No.

You must be paranoid. The train coming is a good thing. It has to be a good thing. You are just paranoid. It’s normal. It’s natural. Dying seventeen times would do that to anyone— rob them of hope, condemn them to an existence full of fear.

It is not lost on you that the thought of dying more than once, much less, dying seventeen times is not normal or natural in the very slightest.

But you need hope, you crave it, wildly, desperately. The hope of freedom, of escape is the only thing getting you through this unending nightmare. Every time you die, every time you wake, it is with the hope that maybe, just maybe this iteration will be different, maybe this one will be the one where you make it out, make it back to your friends who must be waiting for you, make it back home where you can be safe and sound. You need the hope to keep going. Because without hope, what will you have left?

The train screeches as it pulls into the station and the people around you laugh in both disbelief and relief. They start to push and shove toward it, fighting to be able to board because there’s no way everyone here will be able to get on an eight car train and being left behind at this point is practically synonymous with death. Unable to decide if you believe in the train as a symbol of hope or a new layer of fear, you are pushed along with the crowd toward it.

The doors of the train cars slide open and the current passengers all rush off as they disembark. You as well as everyone else on the platform can see with a horrifying clarity that the train is filled to the brim with monsters. Monsters that reach out and grab anyone their hands can reach. The woman to your left. The person to your right.

You.

Hope is gone.

What do you have left?

You die for the eighteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is probably the twenty-sixth time now.

If there is anything this entire ordeal has taught you, it is that you are resilient. Whether it is some innate trait that you never had any reason to uncover before or just a byproduct of being trapped in an unending cycle of being dead and not dead, you don't know. What you do know, though, is that even if you no longer have hope, you at least have your resilience.

Whether you want it or not.

You check the time. It’s 8:35PM. Something flickers in your chest, like a faint light in a sea of darkness, but you ignore it. You don’t have time right now.

With a nimbleness born from your previous failures, you weave your way through the crowd. You’ve done this enough times to know where the gaps are— who will yield and who won’t. Your destination is the escalator that leads off the platform and up to a higher part of the station. You’d noticed previously that the escalator along with every other entrance onto the platform will eventually be blocked by vines or roots of some sort (the work of the branch-eyed monster probably). It’s not a perfect plan because you don’t know what happens on the other side, but whatever it is has to be better than whatever is happening on the side that you’ve been on.

You’d tried to get to the stairs during your last two rounds, but you’d just missed it. You hadn’t been fast enough and had gotten caged and slaughtered along with the rest. But this time, this time you have more time. It’s just one minute, but it’s enough. You know it is.

The flickering in your heart grows stronger. Hope. You try not to pay attention to it— you don’t want to be disappointed yet again. But you want to so badly. A voice in the back of your mind tells you to focus on the good, tells you that if there was truly no way out of this endless nightmare, then why would you get more and more time with each round to escape your fate?

With that thought in mind, you break out into a run, recklessly rushing through the crowd, shoving anyone who will not yield to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the stark white of Satoru Gojo’s hair as he descends upon the platform.

You need to get up those stairs.

Now.

If you remember correctly, the roots and vines don’t close off the area the moment he touches down, but a little after they start talking, so you think there is probably some time, but you can’t leave it to chance.

The stairs are packed, and for some reason no one is moving. The escalator right next to it is just as full and the power doesn’t seem to be working. You don’t have time for this. You clamber onto the escalator’s rubber handrail, ignoring the weird feeling that passes through your body as you do so. You don’t have the time to worry about whatever that is. The people around you start exclaiming around you, but you don’t care, you don’t listen. You wobble as you try to balance yourself and when you think you’re steady you try to run.

But you trip.

And you die for the twenty-sixth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This marks the thirtieth time.

And you have, finally, finally made it up the escalator, up the stairs with barely a second to spare. You pause, glancing back as the roots or vines or whatever the hell they are seal off the entrance to the platform. You notice that the area where the plants come down is actually fairly clear, despite the crowd. It seems weird, but you don’t dwell on it.

A strange feeling envelops your entire body and your legs turn into jelly. As you sink to the floor, you realize what you’re feeling is relief as all the tension, maybe thirty iterations of Halloween 2018 worth, seeps from your being. You don't remember the last time you felt anything other than fear and dread; it’s weird, but not unwelcome.

That voice in the back of your mind tells you that you can't relax just yet: October 31st isn’t over. Even though you have repeated this night again and again, burning the events that play out on the platform into your memory, you do not know a single thing that happens over here. It would be smart to scope everything out.

Legs still shaky, you rise to your feet and start walking. You think it’s probably for the best to try and head up to the surface and you make your way up to the next floor.

It’s packed with people here too, but relatively peaceful, especially when you compare it to the pandemonium taking place beneath your feet. Still, you can make out the undeniable hum of displeasure resonating throughout the crowd. People complaining about how uncomfortable their costumes are, people complaining about how much they want to go home, people complaining about how much their nights have been ruined because they couldn’t meet up with their friends and—

A thought hits you like an eight car train.

You were supposed to meet up with your friends.

That’s why you were on the platform in the first place— you were waiting for them to arrive, but then the trains stopped working, and people just started pouring into the station out of seemingly nowhere (you think you heard some people say they’d come from the crossing?). Soon after that is when everything went to shit.

You check your phone, though, for once it’s not to look at the time (8:56PM). Instead, you open LINE to check your friends’ group chat. There’s no signal here, for whatever reason, so if there are any new messages, you haven’t received them. The last one was from Kei, mentioning he was enroute, but as far as you know, you’re the only one who made it to Shibuya before the trains stopped.

Did one of them maybe make it here though? Surely, you would have run into them if—

The image of a woman in a magical girl costume fills your vision, burning to death before your very eyes as her screams echo in your ears. It is the first time in what feels like forever that you’ve thought about her and your stomach churns violently. You couldn’t help her, you can’t even help yourself, so how could you even expect to do the same for your friends if they were here? The mere thought of having to watch them die over and over is almost enough to send you over the edge. You don’t know if you could do it.

Would you even have a choice?

No. You can't think like that. You have choices. You've had choices. If you didn’t then, you would still be down below, among the fire and brimstone. Dying, if not dead already. However, instead, you are up here, where, for the moment, it is quiet and peaceful.

That thought, in of itself, is enough to give you a shred of solace, a glimmer of hope.

You take a deep breath and fiddle with your phone a little more, changing your lock screen to a picture you and your friends took at a photo booth not too long ago. The four of you are huddled together, faces squished as if you're all struggling to fit in the frame, despite there being plenty of room. You're mid-laugh because it's the first time you've been in a photo booth in years, Mio and Shin are grinning mischievously and finally, Kei is smiling, but only just slightly, the embarrassment clear on his face. It's probably only been a few months since you all took this picture, but the fact that it feels like it's been years makes your heart ache.

You press your forehead to the screen, like a prayer, like a promise.

You will make it out of this nightmare.

No matter what.

A shrill scream yanks you from your thoughts and you are instantly on your feet, alert as your eyes flit around frantically to identify the source. It doesn't take long for you to find it and when you do, you think you might have stumbled upon a new layer of horror to this nightmare.

It’s not the corpse, dangling by a noose, that terrifies you— by now you’ve seen dozens upon dozens of dead bodies that the sight of just one more doesn’t faze you in the slightest. The thing that’s the most mortifying, that’s the most disturbing is that right next to where the body is tied are two girls, two teenage girls still dressed in their school uniforms.

You can accept monsters and weirdly dressed men being responsible for the carnage tonight, but children too? Both girls look like they’re barely in high school and try as you might to rationalize things, to chalk it up to coincidence, you cannot ignore the ominous energy radiating from them.

The very notion that these two children could have killed someone here is a hard pill to swallow, but so is the fact that you’ve died.

And you’ve had to swallow that pill thirty times now, so what’s once more?

“Listen up!” one of the girls yells over the crowd, but she is mostly ignored; you don’t think everyone here has noticed her and the corpse dangling from the rafters. She scowls and turns to the other girl and says something quietly to her. The other girl nods and almost instantly she’s stringing up another person, another example. You want to look away so badly, and yet you cannot bring yourself to and you watch the poor soul choke to death.

“I said listen, you dumb monkeys!” the girl shouts, and this time she’s caught most of the crowd’s attention. “If you don’t want to end up like these two, you’ll listen to what we have to say!”

There is clear dissent among the crowd, people dismissive as they utter their disbelief. Some seem to think it’s a prank, but you know better. It takes two more examples before the crowd goes silent before the two high schoolers.

“About damn time!” The girl roars and then points toward the atrium, which is currently covered by roots and branches. “All of you move over there!”

You have a bad feeling about this.

Still, you comply; the girls have made it abundantly clear that failure to do so will result in death, though, at this point, you're almost certain this iteration is a bust and death is all but imminent. You try to keep positive— thinking you can at least gather information or, who knows, maybe there's a chance that this one is the one.

Yet when you step onto the mound of vines and branches that cover the atrium it feels as if you've crossed the threshold into hell. Your footing is stable… but for how long?

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

It's faint, but you can hear the announcement from below. The liquid in your stomach curdles at the sound as you recall the train and, in particular, what is on board. Soon enough, those monsters will be swarming the platform, massacring everyone in reach, guzzling down their blood, feasting on their flesh—

It dawns on you that the people on the platform are the monsters' first course.

And you, and those around you here in the shrubbery, are the second.

As you realize this, the branches and vines disintegrate beneath your very feet and suddenly you are mid air— falling, falling into the abyss below.

You die for the thirtieth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You've done this nearly sixty times now.

After countless failures, you've decided that you're just not going to go upstairs any more. No matter where you try to go, you still end up herded onto the death trap above the platform where you ultimately fall to your death. You've tried positioning yourself in the same spot, tried bracing yourself for the drop— but nothing seems to work: upon landing, assuming you manage to land without hurting yourself or dying in midair (which has happened a couple times) you get grabbed and killed by one of the monsters from the train. It's probably not impossible, you just don't have the physical prowess or reflexes for it.

If anything, you can try again later, but you sincerely hope you don't have to.

It's 8:32PM, and you have plenty of time to get to your chosen spot for this loop— it's close to the stairs, in the very center of the platform. Here, there's little risk of getting pushed off onto the tracks when the gates open. You'll probably have to move when the train comes, or even before (assuming you survive) to avoid the monsters, but you'll get to that when it's time.

You can't really see the fight once it breaks out after Satoru Gojo arrives, but you still try to keep track of it as best as you can. You see when he hurls both monsters across the platform and you're not sure if it's muscle memory or what but you have to fight the urge to move to the side and watch. It's been a while, yes, but you've seen the fight countless times before— it doesn't change. Satoru Gojo will give chase. He will rip the branches from the branch eyed monster's skull. He will use some kind of power to eviscerate them.

You don't need to watch, but there's something in you that wants to.

It doesn't make sense, you've seen it all before; if you're unlucky you'll see it all again.

The lights go out and people start screaming; Satoru Gojo is ending the life of that one monster. Soon enough he'll be back on the platform, in pursuit of the other. You think at that point it would be good to move, reposition yourself as far from the incoming train as possible.

When he rises from the tracks like a demon straight from hell, you realize it's the first time this loop that you've actually gotten a good look at him. You remind yourself, again, that this isn't the first time you've seen this man, this scene. You can't help but watch, but stare at Satoru Gojo as he stalks through the crowd in pursuit of his prey. His expression is an eerie sort of calm that's at odds with the acts of violence you've seen him commit— his eyes an unnaturally bright blue.

He's a terrifying sort of beauty and you can't help but be captivated by him.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

The sound of the announcement sends your heartbeat into a frenzy, snapping you out of your little trance. The train is coming and you need to get moving. As you dart to the edge of the platform, the thought occurs to you that even if you avoid the initial wave of monsters, it's likely you will inevitably be caught by them and killed. It wouldn't be impossible for Satoru Gojo to turn his attention to them instead of the two he's currently facing, but he's just one man— can he truly defeat all those monsters?

You can see the train pulling in and you brace yourself, praying that it'll work out somehow.

The doors hiss open and the screaming starts again as the monsters come bursting out of the train, biting and mauling anyone they can get their hands on. Those who were lucky enough to not be at the front start to scramble away and the monsters give chase. Your body is taut, ready to try and dodge any that come your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice something moving through the air. A person? With blue hair? You take the risk to look— they're attacking Satoru Gojo. He tries to punch them but they fly away from him to dodge— disappearing into the crowd.

You hear a loud cracking sound over the cacophony of the crowd and your stomach twists; you know what that sound is. The roots above the atrium disintegrate and bodies from above start to rain down onto the platform.

And then, you're not sure what happens— it's so quick that you only manage to see what looks like an explosion of blood surrounding Satoru Gojo. Corpses litter the ground around him and even from here you can tell he is shaken by the carnage.

The monsters have finally reached where you're standing, and you duck under one as it lunges at you. Although it's big and scary, you realize it's moving kind of slow. Right after it another one comes at you and you take a side step to avoid it; this monster is kind of slow too.

Maybe you can do this.

As soon as you think that a strange feeling courses through you. Every hair on your body feels like it's standing on edge and the voice in your head is telling you to look at Satoru Gojo. You don't understand why because you think he's the least of your worries right now, but you do it anyway.

He's in some sort of stance, one hand raised to his face, fingers bent in some kind of gesture. There's some sort of aura, oppressive and frightening emanating from his form.

Satoru Gojo is doing something.

You just can't tell what.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are utterly confused.

Barring your first few loops when you weren't fully aware of what was happening, you have very distinct memories of how each of your previous iterations of this night have gone— of each and every one of your deaths. But for your last round, the last thing you remember was feeling the immense power radiating from Satoru Gojo's body, but that's it.

You do not remember dying.

In fact, you don't think you did.

And yet, here you are again, back at the start: it's 8:32PM and the monsters and strangely dressed man are standing on the subway tracks waiting for the arrival of Satoru Gojo.

You don't understand what's going on; you didn't die but you're still stuck in this damn loop. Up until now, your death has served as the trigger to restart the loop. It's not impossible that maybe you suffered a quick and painless death but you're almost certain that isn't the case.

Something else must have happened.

Something having to do with Satoru Gojo.

You have to find out what. If you don't, you won't know how to avoid it, and if you can't do that, then you really might spend an eternity stuck in this nightmare. And so you take great care to repeat the steps of your last round. You need to make sure to survive to the same point you made it to last time.

Miraculously, you do.

The moment you feel that sensation again, a prickling sort of feeling that envelops your entire body, your eyes are on Satoru Gojo— trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. His eyes are crazed with a desperate kind of focus. You see his mouth move— he's saying something. A spell? A prayer? A curse?

You don't know.

You do know.

Your brain feels like it's going to explode.

Again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

Again.

You do not know how many times it's been the night of Halloween in Shibuya: you stopped counting around the hundredth loop. It feels like it's been a while since then. Or maybe it hasn't? You don't know any more.

What you do know is that this night ends up going one of two ways before you are forced to repeat it. Either you die, in some way, shape or form or something happens just after nine that forces you to reset. You still don't know what it is exactly; you only know that Satoru Gojo is responsible for it.

You do prefer it to dying— it's far less painful.

But if anything, you wish you could just die permanently and never have to repeat this night ever again.

Unfortunately, you know better.

The only good thing you’ve noticed about all of this is that you really do seem to keep waking up earlier and earlier. The last time you checked, it was at around 8:30. It might take hundreds of thousands of loops, but eventually you’ll certainly wake up early enough to avoid this damn entire mess.

But by the time that happens… will your sanity still be intact? Will you really be able to go back to a normal day to day life after living the equivalent of hundreds of years, repeating the same night over and over again? You don’t even know how you’ve managed to stay sane all this time and as much as you want to believe you could do it…

There has to be a breaking point.

For both your mind and this time loop.

If you’re lucky, you’ll reach the latter first.

There’s a dull ache in your head that feels foreign yet familiar. Your mind is foggy, all your thoughts hazy as you try to recall what the word for this feeling is.

Groggy.

It feels as if you’ve woken up from a nap and you blink the sleepiness away from your eyes. When was the last time you took a nap? It’s been a while… You think you maybe tried once or twice, but you were too nervous, too on edge. Awake or asleep, it didn’t matter because, either way, you were doomed to repeat this nightmare.

As you think this, you realize that something is different.

You’re used to how the start of each loop feels like waking up suddenly and abruptly and it becomes clear to you that you haven’t looped. This is completely uncharted territory.

You need to find out what’s going on.

The first thing you notice is that it’s quiet. Almost eerily so, especially when the last thing you remember was screaming and chaos. You glance around you and find that it looks like all the monsters from the train are dead, the ground littered in their bloodstains and corpses. There were so many of them, you don’t know how someone could have wiped them out so quickly… Could it possibly have been Satoru Gojo’s doing?

More concerning than the complete eradication of the monsters is the fact that nearly everyone else on the platform is standing stock still, their mouths ajar with blank expressions on their faces. It’s almost as if their souls have completely vacated their bodies…

Were you like that too before you woke up?

You hear voices, and your body immediately goes tense as you turn your head in their direction. A little ways ahead of you, you see a man dressed as a monk conversing with the blue haired person from earlier and before them is—

Your heart nearly stops: it’s Satoru Gojo, restrained and on his knees.

Honestly, you can’t make heads or tails of the conversation they’re having; it’s more shounen battle manga nonsense. Satoru Gojo doesn’t seem to be enjoying their conversation either, and he interrupts them, clearly annoyed.

“Are we gonna do this or what?” he asks. “The view sucks and I’m just kinda bored.”

“I wanted to enjoy this sight for a little bit longer, but you are right,” the monk says. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen— gate, close.”

When he says that, Satoru Gojo’s restraints move, the weirdly shaped cubes at the ends of them closing in around him, trapping him in a giant red cube. It starts to shrink until it’s small enough to fit in the monk’s hand.

You gulp and hope they don’t notice that you’re awake. The fact that they haven’t slaughtered the rest of the people standing around you is a good sign, but you don’t want to find out what happens if they know you’re cognizant.

It’s not hard to play the part of a living statue, especially when you compare it to everything else you’ve had to suffer through on this night. You watch as the monk’s allies, the ones who had attacked everyone on the platform, wake up, but before they can do or say anything, the box holding Satoru Gojo slips through the monk’s fingers and makes a dent in the concrete. The look on the monk’s face makes it clear that it’s a problem he wasn’t expecting.

You don’t know a damn thing about Satoru Gojo, but you feel like this kind of thing is the norm for him.

The blue haired person suddenly looks in your direction and you nearly stop breathing. Have they noticed you? It takes everything in you to keep perfectly still, in hopes that maybe they didn't, that maybe they’re looking at something else. They raise their arm and it extends, their hand acting like some kind of projectile. You almost shut your eyes and brace yourself for impact, but their hand flies upwards and hits something on the ceiling, destroying it.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief— you’re still safe.

For now.

You listen to their following conversation and while you still don’t fully understand everything, it’s clear they’re talking about what to do next since they’ve taken care of Satoru Gojo. Something having to do with someone named Yuji Itadori? The group seems split on what to do about him but it’s clear he’s their next target.

Eventually, everyone but the monk (you heard the blue haired person, who is apparently named Mahito, call him Geto?) runs off, probably to find this Yuji Itadori person. Once they’re gone, Geto speaks and, at first, you think he’s talking to you, but it becomes clear he’s addressing someone else. “Those cursed spirits are actually smarter than the two of you.”

“Give him back!” a voice hidden among the crowd hisses. Your blood runs cold at the sound. You recognize it; it’s one of the high school girls from the upper floor.

“We cooperated with you fully and kept dropping monkeys for you,” says another voice; it must be the other girl that was with her, the one who hung all those people.

“Now give us back Master Geto’s body like you promised!”

“Don’t toy with Master Geto any further than you have!”

You blink in confusion. Isn’t the monk named Geto? The way the girls are talking it sounds like they’re talking about someone else… Is it possible that the body is ‘Geto’ but the person they’re talking to is someone else possessing it? It sounds kind of crazy, but then again, so is every single thing you’ve experienced tonight.

Your suspicions concerning this ‘Geto’ are confirmed only seconds later as he says, “Now begone, or is it your desire to be killed by this body?”

One of the girls vows her revenge and you hear shuffling somewhere else in the crowd as they scurry away. Now you think it’s just you and whoever it is that’s puppeting Geto’s body. You see him plop down in front of the box (the prison realm, you think he’d called it) that’s holding Satoru Gojo.

“You can come out, you know,” he says after a while.

You freeze. The rest of the platform is completely silent. This time you think he might actually be talking to you.

“I know you’re there,” ‘Geto’ adds, his voice casual. “If you’re insistent on hiding, you should know that I’m not afraid of using whatever means necessary to smoke you out.”

Given everything his allies have done, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s serious. You were hoping to hide out among the crowd until he decided to leave, but it looks like you won’t be able to now.

Looks like this loop is a bust after all.

Your heart starts to race as you weave your way through the crowd. In every single one of your loops, you were always treated like a bit character, never noticed or singled out by any of the major players of the night. Although this is your first time encountering this ‘Geto’ it’s clear to you that he’s involved with everything that’s happened here and honestly, you get the feeling he might actually be the mastermind behind the massacre.

That makes you even more nervous.

You come to a stop in the place where Satoru Gojo was once kneeling before he was put in that box. Now that you’re out in the open, ‘Geto’ looks you over with some sort of nonchalant curiosity.

“You’re…” he starts, sounding thoughtful, "not a sorcerer, are you?”

Sorcerer. You heard that term thrown around by him and his group a few times. It’s what they’ve been referring to their enemies as. It probably wouldn’t be smart to lie and say you are one; you get the feeling he’d see through your lie anyway. “I’m not.”

He hums. “How interesting.”

“...what do you mean?” you ask before you can help yourself.

“It’s just you have an abnormally large amount of cursed energy for a non-sorcerer,” he explains. “Though, I suppose that all just sounds like gibberish to you."

You nod and look down at the box lodged in the floor. It has eyes, big creepy looking eyes. "...are you going to do the same thing to me as you did to that man?"

He laughs, "...fortunately for you, the prison realm only holds one person at a time and I need him sealed away more than you."

"...does that mean you're going to leave him in there forever?"

"If I'm feeling nice, I might unseal him in a hundred years or so."

One hundred years? At this point, you've probably lived roughly that amount of time through your loops alone, but for Satoru Gojo… "Won't he die first?"

"Only if he decides to," 'Geto' says, looking completely and wholly unbothered. "Time doesn't doesn't flow in the box, so when I unseal him, he'll be the same as he was just now. Physically anyway. Who knows how deteriorated his mind will be after all that."

Time doesn't flow in the box.

The words echo in your mind over and over. Time doesn't flow in the box. In other words, that means time has stopped in the box, and if that's the case then—

"Anyway, rather than worry about him, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?"

You look at 'Geto' and he's smiling at you, it's friendly, but ominous. There's no doubt what is going to happen next, though you had already resigned yourself to this iteration being a bust; it was only a matter of time.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I was thinking I might keep you around, even if you aren’t a sorcerer, your wealth of cursed energy would serve my plans well," he muses. "But… it would be too much trouble trying to teach you how to use it in time."

As he talks, you realize this is probably the first time your death is intentional— every other death you've suffered has just been a byproduct of the ongoing slaughter. You were just another casualty, a victim, never a target.

You're scared.

Even though you know that once he kills you, once you die, you'll just loop back to around 8:30 again. You'll be on the platform again. And you'll play out some sequence of events before you eventually die again. And again and again.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I'll be nice, though," 'Geto' says, raising a hand and another monster appears out of nowhere. You don’t even bother trying to figure out from where. It doesn’t matter, especially since this monster will surely be the one to end your life. "I'll make it painless."

"...I appreciate it," you say and close your eyes hoping that he's not lying about it.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

He didn't lie.

You die again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you're trapped.

You don't know how and you don't know why, but you are stuck in a time loop— forced to suffer through the horrific events of the night before you die and begin it all again. It's been a long time since you stopped counting how many loops you've gone through, but if you had to guess, it's probably somewhere in the hundreds now.

You are so very tired.

But it doesn't stop. It won't stop no matter what you seem to do. You are stuck. You are trapped. You are doomed.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

Ever since that first loop where you heard whoever is possessing Geto's body say that, the words have been stuck in your head, playing on loop.

You finally realize why.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

It's 8:25PM when you wake up; that should be plenty of time.

You need to find Satoru Gojo.

After hundreds of loops you've come to a singular conclusion: you need to prevent him being sealed in the prison realm. You've witnessed it enough to know that you won't be able to do it alone; you'll need his cooperation.

You rush upstairs as fast as you can, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine as you step onto the stairwell. According to your previous loops, Satoru Gojo arrives on the subway tracks at 8:40PM. With how crowded the upper floor is, you don’t know if you’ll have the time to intercept him and talk to him, but if you can at least figure out where to find him, then you can try and talk to him during a subsequent loop.

When you reach the fourth basement floor, however, you don’t know where you should even start. He’s pretty tall so you think you could spot him in the crowd, but… there are still so many people. It occurs to you that maybe it would be better to try and look from a higher vantage point so you head to the stairs that lead up to the third basement floor. You check your phone again. It’s 8:35PM; you need to hurry.

Luckily for you, you find him very easily on the third basement floor.

The only problem is that he’s in a hard to reach spot— squatting above a sign hanging over the crowd.

You check your phone again. It’s 8:38PM and he’s starting to move, presumably to meet with those waiting for him on the subway tracks. It’s good that you found him, but there’s no doubt about it.

You’re going to need more time.

The moment you wake up, you immediately bolt toward the stairs. It's taken many, many more loops, but you've finally brought the time you wake down to around 8:15. You're still not sure if it's enough time, but there's only one way to find out.

You barrel your way up to the next floor and zig zag through the crowd to get to the next flight of stairs. By the time you get to your destination, you're completely out of breath, your chest heaving as your lungs clamor for air. You’ve done this so many times, yet your body acts like it’s always the first. It sucks, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You slow to a brisk pace to catch your breath and check the time. It’s 8:27— a new record. Hopefully it’ll be enough.

The goal is to catch Satoru Gojo before he moves to his lookout point above the crowd. While not impossible, it would be difficult for you to follow him there. You eye the safety barricade that blocks off the area where he’ll be moving in just a few minutes warily.

Yes, getting over there would be extremely difficult.

You don’t want to think about it right now; you’ll deal with it when the time comes.

Especially since Satoru Gojo has now entered your field of vision.

Your heart starts to race at the sight of him and it feels like it’s beating a million times a second. There isn’t a lot of time. You need to talk to him, but your legs only wobble, your feet planted firmly to the ground. This is not good. You need to move. You need to move.

Finally, after what feels like both an instant and an eternity, your feet finally budge, propelling you in Satoru Gojo’s direction. The beating of your heart only grows louder as you make your way toward him, mingling with the single thought that’s echoing throughout your mind right now: will he even hear you out?

You need to make him.

“Excuse me!” The words nearly come out in a stutter as you realize that you are actually talking to Satoru Gojo. You have watched this man at a distance for so long that it almost felt like he wasn’t real, like he was just another fixture in this nightmare that you’ve been living for far too long. And yet, here he is, right in front of you, in the flesh.

And his attention is on you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is actually a little overwhelming. Your mouth is dry and suddenly you don’t know what to say, but you need to say something. You need to say something before he thinks maybe you bumped into him by accident and just walks away without a word.

“I need to talk to you!” The words just burst out from your mouth and something about it is just absolutely embarrassing. You’re not sure if it's desperation or the fact that you haven’t really talked to anyone other than the existence occupying Suguru Geto’s body in nearly forever.

Satoru Gojo’s lips slowly start to form a smile, “Oh, yeah?”

The sound of his voice makes your mind go blank. There’s something different about it right now; more playful, amused even. Maybe it’s because he’s talking to you, a harmless human being and not a monster trying to kill him. It’s almost kind of jarring, but you know, with certainty, what Satoru Gojo’s voice sounds like. And the fact that he’s actually talking to you right now has you kind of excited. You nod, doing your best to not show how thrilled you are that he’s not ignoring you.

He hums thoughtfully, “Sorry… but unfortunately I kind of have some business to attend to right now.”

“I—” You start to say that you know that he’s headed down to the platform below to fight with…Choso and Jogo, you think their names are— you don’t know the name of the monster with the branches for eyes. “It’s— it’s really important!”

Gojo tilts his head a little, clearly thinking. You should probably say something else, something to try and convince him to stay a little longer and hear you out, but your mind is both full and blank. Where do you start? From the beginning? Or do you start with what is most important? Maybe you should say what you think will get his attention. You’re not sure, and you realize you really should have thought about this earlier because you’re running out of time right now.

“...mind handing me your phone?”

You stare at Gojo, completely and wholly confused, but he just holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t move, he wiggles his fingers a little, a silent gesture telling you to hurry it up. Without thinking, you reach into your bag and unlock your phone before handing it to him.

“Kind of sucks that cell service isn’t working right now,” he remarks as he types something into your phone before handing it back. “But! Here's my number.”

You look down at your phone and, sure enough, Satoru Gojo has added himself as one of your contacts. He’s even added a little star to the end of his name. That’s… a little unexpected. Why his number though?

“Are you… hitting on me?” you mutter in your confusion.

He laughs, “Well, you said you had something really important to talk to me about, right? So just give me a call when you get home or some time tomorrow and we can talk then!”

You’re not going to make it home, or even to tomorrow, and neither will Satoru Gojo. As you start to tell him this, he steps past you. Desperate, you try to grab him, but somehow, for some reason, you can’t. You remember he did this with Jogo and the other monster, made himself untouchable.

This is not good.

He gives you a little wave, cheery as he says, “I’ll talk to you later!”

You watch, helpless as he hops over the barricade beyond your reach.

Gripping your phone tightly, you take a deep breath. It's fine, it's not like you didn’t expect things to go well anyway.

You'll just have to try again.

Every time you’ve tried to solicit help from Satoru Gojo, it has gone the same way. He just won’t give you the time of day, and in some ways you can’t blame him; he’s clearly here to deal with the monsters down on the platform. You’re fairly certain that he probably thinks that whatever is going on with you is a much lesser issue in comparison.

Plus, it probably doesn’t help that in the times that you’ve approached him, you haven’t been able to articulate yourself particularly well. Once you start talking to him, you just get hit with something akin to stage fright and the connection between your mind and your mouth just stops working. It’s gotten better with each attempt, but…

It’s just so frustrating.

It is interesting that Gojo has given you his number every time, star symbol and all. You’re not sure what kind of person you were expecting him to be, but after witnessing him literally and viciously rip monsters apart, you’d figured he’d be a little more somber. However, in the fragmented conversations you’ve had with him he’s come off as far more friendly and playful than you would have thought. Is he the type of person to get more serious when the situation calls for it? You can’t help but wonder, but ultimately, it doesn’t really matter.

What really matters is that you’re able to convince him to help you.

You have to convince him.

“Excuse me!” you say, stepping in Satoru Gojo’s path. You don’t stutter this time, and your voice is more sure. This is good.

“Yes?”

His head turns in your direction and you gulp. Gojo’s gaze, despite that blindfold of his, still feels just as overwhelming as it did the very first time you approached him. You have no doubt that he’s sizing you up, but there’s just something about it that makes you feel like you’re being picked apart.

You take a deep breath and step closer to him, hoping your voice sounds firm enough as you say, “I need your help. I’m trapped.”

He chuckles a little, “I know, but yours truly is on his way to go beat up the bad guys keeping you all trapped here, so soon enough you’ll be all free to go on your merry little way.”

Right. You were so caught up in your own plight that you nearly forgot that technically you’re not the only one ‘trapped.’ Satoru Gojo obviously knows that everyone else is confined to this station, but you doubt he knows that you’re confined to this night alone.

“That’s not what I mean!” you sputter.

“Then what do you mean?” Gojo asks. Should you tell him that you mean that you’re trapped in a time loop? You’re honestly not sure— in the movies and manga you’ve read about time travel, revealing that sort of thing risks creating a time paradox which seems to be a bad thing. If you have to tell him, you will, but— “Oh, I get it.”

You stare, bewildered. Did you maybe just spew all of that aloud?

Gojo gives you a mischievous smile. “You’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”

“No!” The word comes flying out of your mouth. You can’t deny he’s attractive— you’ve thought it all this time, but that is not what’s happening here.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he continues, ignoring you. “I totally get it, so if you want, I’d be happy to give you my number!”

Again? There’s really something odd about how he keeps giving you his number. Part of you wonders if he’s got some sort of ulterior motive, but you haven’t thought too deeply about it. There are way more important things going on.

“I don’t need your phone number,” you say. “I need to talk.”

Your response seems to give Gojo pause. Did you somehow manage to get through to him? No way. Your suspicions are all but confirmed when he gives you that familiar apologetic smile.

“Like, I said, I’m sort of in the middle of something, but…” Gojo reaches into his pockets and rummages around until one hand fishes out a folded up piece of paper. The other hand keeps digging around in his pocket and when Gojo seems to give up on whatever he’s looking for, he turns his attention back to you. “Got a pen?”

What?

Gojo tilts his head. “Well?”

“I do, but…” You trail off, unsure why he’s asking.

He holds out his hand waiting for you to just hand him the pen. You still don’t get it, but you reach into your bag’s front pocket and pull out the pen and hand it to him. Gojo looks almost like an excited child when he takes it from you, quickly scribbling something onto his paper before shoving it and your pen back into your hand.

You look at the paper; it looks like a receipt. For a disturbing amount of mochi that Gojo bought earlier today. The amount of money he spent is almost sickening; way too much to be paying for mochi. More importantly, you notice something juxtaposed over the receipt’s print.

It’s Satoru Gojo’s name and number.

He even drew a little star next to his name.

“If you change your mind later, just give me a call!” he tells you cheerily. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while!”

You gawk at him. He cannot be serious. You literally just told him that you didn’t need it and yet he still gave it to you. He must want you to contact him later, but you can’t even begin to understand why. It can’t have been something you said or did, right? Unless, he’s actually—

“Later!” Gojo’s voice cuts through your thoughts and you notice him walking off with a wave.

You can’t let him get away.

Again.

You crush the receipt in your hand and rush after him. Despite the crowd, Gojo seems to move through the people with ease and it almost seems like they are yielding to him naturally. It’s good for you. Makes him easier to chase.

“Wait!” you yell, but Gojo doesn’t even look back. Bastard. Your muscles strain as you try to run faster. You know you won’t be able to grab him if you get to him, but there has to still be something you can do to stop him. Circle around him? Cut him off before he—

Satoru Gojo reaches the barricade.

“Wait!” you yell again. “Satoru Gojo, wait!”

He does not even acknowledge you.

You’re almost there though. Almost. If you reach out your hand, then maybe, maybe you can grab him. Something in your head tells you that it’s useless; you’ve never been able to touch him. But, you don’t care, you don’t care because you have to try. You stretch out your hand, desperate and hoping, but just as you do, Gojo effortlessly jumps over the barricade, moving to survey the crowd.

Due to your momentum, you almost collide into the barricade, but you manage to stop yourself. You stare at Satoru Gojo through the glass. He watches the crowd for at most three minutes. Is this just another bust? Is there really nothing you can do? There must be a way you can get his attention. Is it possible to climb over the barricade? No, it’s too high. There’s nothing you can grasp onto or use as footing either.

This fucking sucks.

Another minute or two and Gojo will be on the move again, and there will be no way you can follow, no way you can get his attention. You press your hands against the glass, pushing against it. Naturally, it doesn’t budge. Why would it? If only you could get it out of the way. If only you could break it. This stupid barricade is the only thing between you and Satoru Gojo and there’s no way you can climb it, but if only you could break it.

If only you could fucking break it.

Suddenly, the glass feels warm. Satoru Gojo’s image starts to look a little distorted as the warmth beneath your fingers grows. Something is happening. The glass starts to vibrate and shake. Violently. The tremors grow stronger and stronger. You should stop. You should back away.

You don’t.

The barricade starts to crack and fracture and soon the sound of shattering glass resounds throughout the entire room. Everyone starts screaming. No one knows what’s going on— not even you. But you don’t care. It’s gone. The barricade is gone.

You take a step forward, toward Satoru Gojo. He’s on a beam that’s about a two meter drop from where you’re standing. That’s fine. That’s okay. You can make it. You have to. Without a second thought, you jump—

And you land on the beam. You look up and Satoru Gojo’s attention is back on you. He’s finally, finally turned toward you, face twisted into an expression you can’t decipher or even comprehend, but—

Something’s wrong; your world is turning on its axis, but—

Satoru Gojo is looking at you, and—

Up is very quickly becoming down, and—

Satoru Gojo is coming closer, but—

You’re slipping—

But he’s right there, and—

You’re falling, but—

He’s trying to catch you, but—

It’s too late. It’s too late.

The last thing you think you feel—

—is Satoru Gojo’s arms around you.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are causing a commotion.

“Shit! Fuck!” you curse loudly. The people near you start to shift away but you barely notice; you don’t really care.

You were so close, so fucking close and yet… yet here you are again. It’s quarter past eight and you are back on the goddamn platform. You don’t know what happened; you remember falling and thinking you were going to die, but you are absolutely certain that, once again, this time, you didn’t die.

Is Satoru Gojo at fault again? Did he do something? Like he did all those other times you looped without dying? When you think about it more, you don’t think so. You don’t know what happened; all you know is that you tried to get to him, but you slipped.

And he caught you, you definitely remember that.

You still don’t understand why you looped, but there’s not much you can do about it now; it’s not like you can go back anymore. It just sucks, because you think he might have actually listened if you’d talked to him.

Or he would have come after you for… whatever happened with the barricade. It could have been taken as an attack on the crowd… But if he thought you were doing that, then why would he catch you?

You don’t know.

All you know is that you have to try again.

The only problem is that you don’t know how you managed to shatter the barricade. You think about it as you make your way up to where you’ll find Satoru Gojo. There is the possibility that it wasn’t you and something else happened to it instead, but that feels way too coincidental. It had to be you. That’s the only thing that makes sense. You just can’t figure out how you did it outside of wanting, wishing, praying for the barricade to break. It’s not like you have supernatural powers like Satoru Gojo and his enemies.

Despite your mind being completely and wholly occupied by trying to figure out how in the world you managed to break through that barricade, you still manage to make it to the second basement floor of Shibuya Hikarie by 8:25PM— a brand new record. Satoru Gojo doesn’t show up until around 8:34PM, so that gives you almost ten minutes to try and figure out what you need to do to try and replicate shattering the glass barricade again.

Except—

Except Satoru Gojo is already here.

The thought that maybe you’re mistaken flashes in your mind before it’s quickly dismissed; there’s no way you’d mistake anyone else for him. There is absolutely no denying it: that is Satoru Gojo. Bewildered, you double check the time on your phone. Maybe you misread it and you’re actually late but sure enough you read it right— Satoru Gojo is here early.

What the hell is going on?

Of the thousands of times you have experienced this night, this hell, this sort of thing has never happened before. Everything happens at a specific time, as if adhering to an unseen schedule. It’s likely that what happened in your last iteration did delay Satoru Gojo’s arrival onto the platform, but other than that there has never been a deviation to the time table.

And yet, here Satoru Gojo is, nine minutes early now.

You realize that that’s not the only thing that’s strange: he’s not moving. In previous rounds, when you encounter Gojo here, he’s walking to the lookout spot beyond the barricade. But, right now, he’s just standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. It almost looks like he's waiting for something.

Or someone.

This unexpected turn of events has you rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you should do. No. This shouldn’t change anything. You need to talk to him. As concerning as a change like this is, the extra time it gives you should be a good thing. Despite knowing that, your feet are still firmly planted to the ground.

The crowd shifts and you see Satoru Gojo start to move. Toward the barricade? No. He’s not heading in his usual direction, rather he’s—

You stop breathing.

He’s headed toward you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is absolutely mind numbing.

He comes to a stop before you, lips curled up to form an amused sort of smile as he says, “Soooo, you needed to talk to me?”

You try to answer but no words come out of your mouth. Are you dreaming? You have to be, right? There's no way that this is actually happening. Could it be that, after thousands of loops, you’ve finally lost it? Your mind shattering along with the glass of the barricade at the end of the last one?

Gojo tilts his head, indicating that he's still waiting for an answer. When you open your mouth, at first, nothing comes out, the words stuck in your throat. You force them out, your voice cracking, “...how did you know?”

He smiles, looking almost mischievous as he reaches up and lightly taps the side of his head. “I remembered, of course!”

All you can do is stare at Satoru Gojo. He remembered? How is that possible? From his perspective, this is the first time you’ve met and while it shouldn’t be possible for him to remember there’s something in your mind that’s keeping you from completely dismissing the possibility.

Gojo laughs, “I take it from the look on your face that you’re not used to this sort of thing happening. Is this the first time?”

“No.” The fact that the word is out of your mouth before you can even really think about it surprises you and you really have to think. Your face scrunches together as you try to remember. Is this really not the first time? Then, the memories assault you, overlapping as they replay simultaneously in your head— a woman in a yellow and white magical girl costume— begging you for help as she burns to death— smiling as she tells you she made her costume herself. “...it happened just once a long time ago.”

“‘A long time ago,’ huh. Sounds like you've been at this for a while now.”

“...unfortunately.”

Gojo hums. “So when you said you didn’t need my phone number…”

“You’d already given it to me a few times,” you say, figuring that’s where this conversation is going.

“Really now?”

Does he not believe you? Or is he just being an ass? You’re not sure, but since you had taken the liberty of memorizing Satoru Gojo’s phone number you recite it back to him to prove your point.

Just when you think you may have stunned Gojo into silence he starts to laugh, obviously finding something funny about the fact that you know his cell phone number. “Seems like you've got quite the fascinating technique there.”

Technique? What is he talking about? Your confusion must be plain on your face because he adds, elaborating, “The time travel.”

You continue to stare at him. You don't think you'd consider what you've been going through time travel, because traveling implies moving from point A to point B, but you've been stuck walking in circles at point A for a long time. What really gets you is… “What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“You mean you don’t— oh. I get it; no wonder you’re trapped.”

That does not answer your question in the slightest. “Can you please explain what you're talking about? What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“Right, right… So basically, a technique is like a special sort of power,” he finally explains. “Like I said, your technique seems to be a kind of time travel. Whenever you activate it, your mind is sent back in time.”

What he's saying makes sense, but… “How come you were sent back too?”

He laughs again. “Isn't it obvious? Think back to before— do you remember that I caught you as you were falling?”

You nod slowly. The memory of his arms around you is almost embarrassingly vivid. “...is it because we were touching?”

“Ding, ding, ding! That's correct! Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!”

Something about his tone annoys you, but you try to ignore it. He could have just told you rather than make you guess. “How do you know that for sure?”

“Well,” he continues. “You’ve done your little time loop a bunch of times, right? If your technique affected everyone, or even a few people in a select range you would have noticed for sure. And if it affected only just you then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, now would we?”

When you think about it, you do think that the woman in the magical girl costume might have bumped into you before the loop where she remembered.

“That’s honestly just conjecture, but I've got pretty good eyes, so I’m hardly ever wrong.”

Gojo gives you a grin and while you do think that his reasoning is sound enough his confidence is a little grating. More than that, though, you’re glad that this conversation is actually going really well.

“Either way,” he says thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look like you can control your technique. Usually a person’s technique manifests when they’re a kid, but you seem to be a special case… in fact, I bet your technique activated for the very first time tonight— probably under some pretty extreme circumstances, too.”

“...dying counts as an ‘extreme circumstance,’ right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Or legitimately thinking that you’re gonna die, but it seems like your body has been unconsciously activating your technique as a sort of defense mechanism. Which is why you’re trapped.”

“So, if I could control it I’d be able to make it out of this time loop.”

“Yeah, but in this case it probably wouldn’t end very well for you,” he points out with a chuckle. “It’s not like you actually want to die, right? I mean, if you did, then your technique wouldn’t even activate in the first place.”

You don’t; what you want is for this night to finally end. To be free from the endless cycle of dying over and over again and again. You don’t think death is quite the answer; even if you were to learn how to control this supposed technique of yours, there’s no guarantee that you would just unconsciously activate it when the grim reaper comes knocking on your door. No, the answer is…

“Anyway!” Gojo’s cheery voice cuts through your thoughts. “I highly doubt that you’re the type that makes a habit of jumping off ledges for the funsies, so the fact that you’ve been dying tells me that some pretty gruesome stuff is about to go down, so, tell me what happens tonight.”

The sudden drop of his voice sends a shiver running down your spine. If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve seen how serious Gojo can get, the sudden shift in demeanor would probably freak you out a bit, but it doesn’t. This is the Satoru Gojo you’re familiar with.

You do have one concern though. “That… won’t create a time paradox or anything, will it?”

“Nah,” Gojo shrugs. “You wouldn’t cause one with the way your technique works, besides, if you’ve only been going back at most an hour or two in time it’s hard to believe you’d be making a really big impact… unless you really believe in the butterfly effect.”

You’re still not quite sure.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

His voice sounds strange. Gentle. Kind. It's the most soothing thing you've heard in a long time and it makes you want to believe him.

“...okay.”

Anxiety is still gripping at you, but you try to dispel it, taking a deep breath before beginning your explanation. For the sake of brevity, it’s probably best that you’re as concise as possible. There isn’t much need to really get into the nitty gritty of things unless he asks specifically.

Naturally, you begin with his arrival onto the platform and how soon after a fight breaks out and how the crowd is unfortunate enough to be involved. Gojo’s expression is passive for the most part, but he does crack the faintest hint of a smile when you mention how he manages to eviscerate one of the monsters.

It disappears once you tell him about the arrival of the train. Between the dozens upon dozens of people being dropped onto the platform by those two high school girls and the hoard of monsters disembarking from the train, everything devolves into pandemonium.

“Wait,” Gojo holds a hand up and you pause. This is his first interruption since you started recounting the night’s events for him. “Everyone is able to see the monsters?”

You stare at him. What a weird question. “...yeah?”

His mouth twists and it looks like he’s thinking about something. You can’t even begin to imagine what. Finally, he comments, “Makes sense.”

It does not, but you don’t ask him to elaborate. Surely if it was important he would have just done so.

“Anyway, in the middle of all that, you… you do something.” Your brows bunch together as you remember the stance Gojo took, the crazed and desperate look in his eyes, the feeling of your head about to explode. “I don’t know how to describe it. At first, it would just force me to… activate my technique, I guess. But now, it just knocks me out for a few minutes.”

Gojo frowns and he rubs at his chin, obviously thinking about what you’ve said. Eventually, he raises a hand and bends his fingers into a familiar gesture. It’s the one that preludes whatever he does on the platform. “Do I do this?”

“Yeah.”

He hums. “Interesting.”

You wait to see if he’ll explain. He doesn’t. Great. Even if he doesn’t think you need to know, it certainly would be nice to. It’s annoying otherwise, but you ignore the feeling and continue. “I can’t tell you what happens when I’m knocked out, but when I come to everyone is basically a zombie and all the monsters from the train are gone. I think you kill them.”

“I probably do,” he says casually. “But what about Volcano Head?”

“...you don't…get a chance to kill him,” you say slowly. Gojo tilts his head, waiting for you to elaborate, but you hesitate. You have to tell him, you know you do, but…

You have seen the interaction so many times and though you don't know the exact nature of the relationship between them, you can tell that seeing Suguru Geto (or rather seeing his body) shook Satoru Gojo to his very core.

There's no doubt in your mind that he will not take this news well.

“Come on now,” Gojo's tone is light-hearted, unaware. “Don't keep me in suspense here.”

It's as if you're withholding the punchline to a joke. In a way, you suppose you are, but you don't think he's going to find it funny.

You take a deep breath. You need to tell him. The worst thing that could happen is that he doesn't believe you, but if that's the case… you'll probably just end up repeating this all again until you find a loop where he does.

Having made it this far, you'd like to avoid all that.

“Before you can get Volcano Head you get restrained by something called the prison realm,” you say slowly, “by someone calling themselves… Suguru Geto.”

The second the name leaves your mouth, there is a clear and obvious shift in the air. Gone is Gojo’s laid-back and frivolous demeanor, replaced with something more somber and almost frightening. The tension grows more and more palpable to the point that you think it might almost choke you.

You almost wish that it would.

“You can’t be serious,” Gojo finally says, once your words have fully sunk in.

“I—” You start to speak, but come to an abrupt stop when you see him shove his hand into his pocket to yank out his phone of all things.

The both of you know full well that there’s no reception here, but you don’t think that he’s planning on making any calls. Gojo scrolls and scrolls on his phone before he stops and shoves the screen in your face. It shows a picture of three people— a teenage girl with a cigarette in her mouth, a younger, happier version of Gojo sporting a pair of round sunglasses and—

“When you say ‘Geto’ is this who you’re referring to?” Gojo demands, using his other hand to point at the third person in the frame— a handsome young man with long dark hair pulled up into a bun.

“Yes, but—”

“That’s impossible. It can’t be him,” Gojo interrupts, his voice firm, cold even. “He’s dead.”

There’s a note of finality in his words that is definitely meant to leave no room for argument. It doesn’t stop you, though. Instead, you glare at Gojo’s stupid blindfold and say, “...being dead doesn’t mean a damn thing! I’ve died hundreds of times and yet I’m still fucking here, but—”

“Your situation is different,” he interjects, the temperature of his tone hiking up, his words like heated hissing. “I killed him almost a year ago. There's no way—”

“You didn't get rid of the body properly!” You cut him off, raising your voice in hopes that he'll take even just a second to stop and listen. It seems to work and you add something you remember ‘Geto’ saying. “You should have had Shoko Ieiri get rid of it, but you didn’t and now some… some kind of gross brain thing is possessing the corpse!”

The air between you both is silent as the grave. Though you can't see it, you can feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. He’s definitely having second thoughts about everything you’ve said so far. There’s a chance he might even think you’re his enemy now. You stare him down though, refusing to look away. You’ve made it this far, you can’t— you won’t back down.

“...you’re not lying, are you.” Gojo’s words are more of a statement than a question. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows the answer, and yet he’s still asking. You wonder if maybe he’s clinging onto some vain hope that maybe, just maybe this all a sick, cruel joke that’s gone way too far.

“I’m not.”

Gojo holds your gaze for a second longer before he lets out a curse. “Fuck!”

“...I’m sorry,” you say quietly, mostly because it feels like the most correct thing to say at this moment. You don’t know the whole story, but it seems like they were close. If so, then it must have hurt Gojo a lot to have killed him, and must hurt even more to know that someone is desecrating the body. You hate that you, a complete and utter stranger, happened to be the person to tell him, but…

It had to be done, for the sake of getting past this unending night, it had to be done.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair and lets out a ragged sigh. “Okay. What happens after that?”

You give him a rundown of what follows; he gets sealed, the monsters wake up and all but ‘Geto’ leave in search of their next target. When you mention the high school girls demanding the brain give Geto’s body back, Gojo snorts loudly.

“Fat chance of that,” he says derisively.

You nod in agreement. It was clear to you that the brain parasite has no intent on giving it up any time soon. “After they leave, he… talks to me.”

“Probably couldn't ignore all that cursed energy you have,” Gojo remarks offhandedly.

You stare at him, expression twisted in a way that shows that you have absolutely no clue what that means. It should be fine for you to ask this one question; it actually concerns you after all. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, though… probably doesn't make much sense to you, does it?”

You give him a pointed glare and all Gojo does is laugh.

“Just think of it like having a lot of MP.”

“...Like in a video game?”

“Exactly!” Then, Gojo tilts his head, clearly thinking. You don't bother asking; you don't feel like he'll explain.

“He does ask me if I'm a sorcerer, whatever that is. Is that why?”

“Probably. Ordinary people don't have even a fraction of the energy you're packing.”

‘Ordinary people’ he says as if you’re not an ordinary person who got caught up in all this supernatural sorcery bullshit. Or at least you were, but if the time loops are really a product of your own doing…

“Does he kill you when you answer?” Gojo asks to get the conversation back on track.

“Not right away. What happens next kind of varies,” you answer. “He usually lets me have a question or two before he kills me; I've asked him a couple different things.”

“Really taking advantage, aren’t you?” Gojo says and you're not sure what to make of his tone. Is he mocking you or is he easing back into that laid-back persona of his?

“If I’m doomed to repeat the same situation over and over, I might as well make the most of it,” you respond flatly.

“You know, your technique kind of reminds me of save scumming.”

He’s definitely gone back to acting almost completely unserious— all signs of his earlier agitation are nearly gone.

“So what did you learn?”

“Well, the prison realm only holds one occupant. Once they’re sealed, time stops for them and the only way out is if the bearer unseals them or if they choose to kill themselves.”

“I see… And what about our body jacker?”

“He didn’t go into detail but he said something about… striving toward the evolution of mankind?” You frown a little at the memory. He didn’t explain further because he said that you wouldn’t understand.

“Huh. Interesting. Wonder how he was gonna go about doing that.”

“I don't know, but I can't imagine you'd like it since he goes out of his way to seal you into that box,” you say. “Said you’d get in the way because you’re too strong.”

Gojo shrugs his shoulders and grins a little. Cocky. “Well, I am the strongest sorcerer around, you know.”

You would think him overconfident if you hadn't seen the magnitude of his strength first hand.

“Anyway, that's as far as I ever go. When he's decided he’s done talking to me, he kills me and I loop back.”

“So, in short, what you want help with is getting past that point, right?”

“More or less.”

“And all I have to do is avoid getting caught by the prison realm?”

You nod.

“What’s it look like?” he asks. “A big cage with a bunch of metal bars?”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t woken up early enough to see it before it traps him, but you can’t imagine it looks that much different. “No.. It’s a small box with eyes… It gets big enough to fit you in it, though.”

“Huh.” He stretches his arms out above his head as if he’s trying to emphasize how large he actually is and shoots you a grin. “Should be easy enough then. I bet our body snatcher used the shock of seeing Suguru to trap me but since I'll see it coming, avoiding it'll be a piece of cake.”

Gojo makes it sound so easy, and maybe it really is as simple as that, but you can't help but be worried still.

“Don't tell me you don't think I can do it,” he says, tilting his head.

“It's not that,” you admit. “I'm just concerned I might die before we can get to that point.”

Truthfully, since you know that will just result in another loop you're less concerned with dying itself and more worried about losing the progress you've made in convincing Gojo to help you. Even though it's been clearly proven you can loop him as well, there's no guarantee you'll be able to make the physical contact needed to do it upon death.

“You've made it pretty far on your own, though, right?”

“Yeah, but… I’ve messed up plenty of times.” More than you can even count. “There's also the possibility that taking the time to talk to you might have thrown things out of whack.”

Speaking of time, you check your phone. It's 8:39PM. You curse.

Gojo leans over to check your phone. “Let me guess, I'm supposed to be somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, this is when you’re descending down onto the platform.”

“You know where I am down to the exact minute?” He asks and you tilt your head back and forth a little. It’s not exact per se, but it’s close enough. Gojo chuckles a little. “Man, I didn’t realize that you were actually that into me.”

That earns Gojo a glare from you, but he just laughs it off. “I doubt being a few minutes late is going to make a big difference.”

You certainly hope so.

“Don't worry,” Gojo says and you notice he's using that tone from earlier. “You won't die.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he uses such a reassuring sounding voice and yet, you still open your mouth to try— to voice your doubts, but what he says next silences you before you even can.

“I'll protect you.”

You think your heart stops beating in your chest and your words dissolve in your throat.

He grins at you. “Did you fall in love with me just now?”

That catches you a little off guard. You're willing to admit he's hot, but surely he must be joking. “How could you even think of something like that at a time like this?”

Gojo laughs again. “Well, since someone is so worried about their time table being all messed up, I better head down there; can’t keep Volcano Head and friends waiting, right?”

You blink. Is that it? “Wait, shouldn’t we make a plan or something?”

“Isn’t the plan for me to not get caught in the prison realm?”

Yes, but… “But what about me? Is there anything I can do?”

Gojo stares at you, or at least you think he does. “...I don’t know, is there?”

You’ve seen the encounter between Satoru Gojo and those monsters so many times and you try to picture a version of it where you intervene and… all you can see is yourself getting in his way. You’re no fighter, no… sorcerer, or whatever he is, you’re just some ordinary person that was unfortunate enough to get all caught up in this mess. The most you can probably do is kick the prison realm out of the way when the time comes, but otherwise… “...no, I guess not.”

His expression turns sympathetic. “You’ve done plenty by telling me everything that happens. So just wait up here, and let me handle the monsters.”

You almost nod. Almost. But then you remember what transpires up here above the platform. You know it sounds safer up here where you’re less likely to get involved in the carnage, but… “Wait, no, if I stay up here then I’ll fall to my death when those girls—”

Gojo laughs, interrupting you. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be fine.”

“How?”

“Just trust me.”

“I…” It’s hard to. After everything you’ve gone through it’s hard to trust in anything, to believe in anything. Even though you’ve made it this far this time, the worry that something will go wrong and that you’ll have to do it all again still lurks in the back of your mind.

Despite all that, you want to believe.

You want to believe that you can make it past this unending night, that one day you’ll wake up and it’ll no longer be October 31, 2018. And the first step towards that is trusting in Satoru Gojo.

“...okay,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Gojo chuckles then asks, “Anything else before I head off?”

You start to ask if there’s anything you should say, in case things don’t work out, but you stop yourself. You’re choosing to trust him, to believe in him— you can figure out that stuff later if things end up going south after all. So, instead you give him a smile and it feels a little weird because you don’t remember the last time you did. “Good luck!”

For a split second, Gojo looks almost surprised, but then he laughs again, beaming widely at you. He starts to move past you and reaches out to give you what you think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder and then he’s off. You turn to watch him go, the crowd, once again, parting almost naturally for him.

When he reaches the barricade, he pauses, raising his hand as if he’s giving you one last wave. Then he jumps over it onto his little perch and then less than a minute later he’s gone, descending to the platform below.

Now, all you can do is wait.

You check your phone again and it’s 8:44PM. If you remember correctly, the high school girls start threatening everyone right before 9PM. With Gojo’s arrival being shifted back almost five minutes, does that mean that they’ll be shifted back too? It would make sense, but you’re not too sure.

Out of habit, you keep checking your phone and at nearly 9PM, you hear the shrill voice of one of the girls over the crowd, commanding everyone to do what she says, her partner stringing up bodies until everyone listens. Everything plays out just as you remember it, which is mildly comforting, though you know that the events that happen up here are more or less independent from what happens below.

Surely, just as Gojo said, a few minutes aren’t going to change anything, but—

No.

You agreed to trust him. To trust that everything would be fine.

When the girls start to demand that as many people as possible climb onto the roots and vines covering the atrium your heart starts to hammer in your chest. In just a few minutes, all the foliage will disintegrate beneath you, and you and everyone else here will fall into the abyss below.

You are afraid.

There isn’t a single loop where you’ve really survived this fall. If you don’t die in midair, you die right after landing. It’s a death trap, and that’s why you’ve stopped coming up here. There’s a part of you, the part that knows what’s about to happen, that wants to try and run back onto stable footing. But you can’t, because you know if you do then the girls will kill you for sure; you have to stay.

It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, it’ll be okay.

You just have to trust Gojo.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You hear the announcement faintly below you. It’s almost time. You brace yourself and try to stay calm. Gojo said he would protect you, that you wouldn’t die. You don’t know how he intends to keep that promise, but all you can do is believe in his words.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.

The vines and roots start to crack and the ground beneath you starts to give out. You squeeze your eyes shut as that sickening weightless feeling overtakes you. It occurs to you that this is actually quite literally a trust fall— will Satoru Gojo really be able to catch you?

As you fall, you realize almost instantly that something is different.

You’ve experienced this fall dozens of times and so, even though it has been a while since you’ve gone this route, you are very familiar with what it feels like. Something is different. You’re falling faster. The trajectory is changing. It’s like some force, other than gravity, is pulling at you.

Is this Gojo’s doing?

Just as your body collides with the ground you hear the sounds of mutilating flesh meld with the screams surrounding you. Blood and severed limbs litter the ground, but you try to ignore it. You need to focus on your own survival right now. Quickly, you scramble to your feet scan the area around you; you’re on the platform right now and right in front of you is—

Right in front of you is Satoru Gojo.

His back is turned to you, his focus currently elsewhere. Looking at him you realize you recognize this scene, though it’s much closer and at a different angle. He’s about to do that thing, that thing that knocks you out.

Something in you tells you to move closer to him, after all, he used his mysterious powers to deliberately bring you closer to him, right? You rush toward him and as you do something he said earlier pops up in your mind.

Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!

Whatever he’s about to do… Is that his ‘technique?’ And if it is, would it work the same way as yours? If so, there’s only one way to find out: you need to touch him. You dodge monsters and other people as you run toward Satoru Gojo and—

A monster still manages to grab you, its large hands wrapping around your wrist. You try and yank it free, but it's much stronger than you are.

“Shit!” you hiss as the monster starts to pull you toward it and away from Gojo. What do you do? Your other hand is still free, should you try to punch it in the face? Or—

Before you can do anything, something blasts the monster’s head clean off. Shocked, you stare as the monster’s body slumps onto the ground, its grip loosening on you instantly. You whip your head around to find that while Gojo still has his back to you, his arm is bent back in your direction, his palm open as if he fired some invisible blast from it.

Then you feel it again, something pulling at you, but this time it's more forceful. Your body is yanked toward Gojo and the second you feel his hand press against you, you see him make that gesture with his other hand.

“Domain Expansion,” he whispers in a strained voice. “Infinite Void!”

Something happens and your vision flashes for a fraction of a second. And then—

The room is enveloped in an eerie stillness; all the violence and bloodshed coming to an abrupt stop. Monsters and humans alike stand like the living dead, unconscious with their eyes wide open as if they are staring into an infinite abyss. You recognize this scene, you’re familiar with it because it’s similar to the one you wake up to after being hit by Gojo’s ‘domain expansion.’ The only difference is the presence of the monsters, who are all but gone when you regain consciousness.

The pressure from Gojo’s hand is gone and he says to you, his voice still low. “If you’re squeamish when it comes to blood and gore, it might be best for you to close your eyes.”

And then he’s gone.

You do not take his advice. You do not close your eyes. How many loops were you unable to witness what’s about to unfold? A few hundred? A few thousand? And if all goes to plan, then you will never get another chance again: there’s no way you could possibly look away.

And what you see unfold before you is that Satoru Gojo was right.

He is the one to kill all the monsters.

It’s not as if you really had any doubt, after all, it seemed like the most logical conclusion to come to and yet…

There’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

All the violence resumes and the platform is engulfed in the sounds of carnage and slaughter once more. The lack of terrified screams makes everything more disconcerting— without them, all you can hear is the squelching echo of mangled flesh and blood splattering all over the place. You can’t really see him, but you can tell where Satoru Gojo is in the crowd as he leaves dozens upon dozens of decapitated heads soaring in his wake. Once or twice, he leaps out of the crowd and even from where you stand you can see the crazed glow of his inhumanly blue eyes as he massacres monster after monster.

Even though you don’t think you have anything to be scared of, you are still terrified: Satoru Gojo is no longer a man, but violence incarnate. You want to move closer to where Gojo gets trapped, but you’re afraid to. What if you get in his way? What if he kills you by accident?

Dying again when you’ve made it this far is definitely not ideal, but isn’t being killed by Gojo the best case scenario? Because then the two of you would probably loop together again and—

No.

Gojo said you wouldn’t die.

He said he’d protect you.

It’s hard to believe when he’s in the middle of a massacre, slaughtering monsters left and right, but you remind yourself yet again that you have to believe in him.

You take a deep breath and start moving, taking care to keep an eye on where Gojo is. You don’t know how long this is supposed to take, but you do know where he ends up when he’s just about done. The closer he gets to that spot, the sooner the prison realm will be unleashed upon him.

There’s a small group of zombified people nearby and you settle yourself among them. It’s not super close, but you think it's close enough that you'd be able to run over and kick the box away from Gojo if you have to. You do a quick survey to see if you can spot the body snatcher, but he's nowhere to be found. Hopefully, he hasn't noticed you moving around, or, if he has, he's more concerned with Gojo than he is with you. Given that you always seem to be the last thing he acknowledges, you'd like to think that he doesn't consider you a threat.

Which you're not, not really anyway.

The sounds of slaughter start to die down and you look to see Gojo approaching the spot where he gets caught. He looks beat, his eyes unfocused and his breathing heavy. You do another quick scan around him and notice a small box a few meters away from him, wrapped in what looks like paper charms or seals or whatever they're called. That has to be the prison realm— though it looks different than what you saw before. Gojo seems to notice it right after you do, his gaze honing in on it, examining it with some measure of bewilderment. Then, some invisible force slices through all the paper seals covering the box and it expands, the corners of the box floating up in midair to reveal what looks like a large sheet of dark red flesh with a large bloodshot eye stapled to the middle.

Disgusting.

If Gojo didn’t realize before, he seems to now, because he takes a step back, away from the grotesque thing. Good, good—

“Hey! Satoru!” Your blood runs cold at the sound of the body snatcher’s voice. He emerges from the crowd, smiling widely as he gives Gojo a wave. “Long time no see!”

Satoru Gojo’s entire body goes rigid. Shit. You told him, you warned him about what was going to happen, who he was going to see, but was that not enough? It’s possible that no amount of warning would have been enough to mentally prepare Satoru Gojo for the sight of the man he said he killed a year ago. After all, you know that there’s a stark difference between knowing and seeing. Even then, if Gojo doesn’t gather his wits and move now then he’s going to get caught and you can���t let that happen.

Your body moves before you can even think about it.

You scramble out from your hiding spot in the crowd and throw yourself in between Satoru Gojo and the prison realm. There’s no way you can kick it away from him now, not when it’s in this form, but maybe, if you get between them you can at least keep it from capturing him.

The eye quivers erratically, as it flits from Gojo to you. Every hair on your body stands on end as it watches you, the pupil dilating and contracting uncontrollably. You can’t look away from it, your own gaze fixed to your image reflected in the black abyss of the pupil. Something in the back of your mind tells you to stop, to get away, it’s dangerous, but you keep your feet firmly planted to the ground.

A second, or maybe even a minute passes and the prison realm shifts, its fleshy form morphing to restrain you.

The body jacker looks at you, his frown tinged with disgust. “Don’t you think you’re being rather rude by butting into what could have been a touching reunion?”

You scowl. Is he still trying to play the role of Suguru Geto?

He sighs and looks past you at Gojo. “Satoru, I thought bringing lesser sorcerers to fight alongside you was more trouble than it was worth?”

You hear Gojo snort from behind you, “It is… but this person here isn’t a sorcerer… Just like you aren’t Suguru Geto.”

The faker almost pouts and presses his hand to his chest as if Gojo's words have wounded him. “Satoru, I’m hurt, how could you say such a thing to your best friend?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Gojo snarls. “You can’t fucking fool me. You might be in Suguru’s body but I know with all my heart and soul that you’re not him.”

The corpse snatcher stares at Gojo, expression blank before he sighs once more. Then, his gaze shifts back to you, his eyes narrowed as he looks at you with sheer disdain. It feels as if you’ve been drenched in ice cold water. There's no smile this time but you already know what's going to happen.

He’s going to kill you.

“I intended to deal with you later since you seemed harmless enough,” he says, raising a hand to summon a monster— the same one he always uses to end your life. “But you’re in the way. So, I think it’s for the best if I just get rid of you right now.”

Instinctively, you try to take a step back but the prison realm’s restraints keep you in place. Not that it would have mattered much, even in the loops where you’ve tried to escape the faker’s monster, it still kills you, too fast and too agile for an ordinary human like you to avoid. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the monster to kill you. At least, it’s always painless.

Something touches your back.

Your eyes shoot open.

Before you is the monster, wiggling and writhing only mere centimeters from your face. It gurgles and snarls at you, desperate to fulfill its master’s wishes and kill you but it doesn’t move any closer. You stare at it with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

Someone behind you clicks their tongue— Gojo. You try to turn your head to look at him, but your movements are too limited, the most you can do is turn your head to the side. The sounds the monster is making start to change, sounding more frenzied, almost as if it’s in pain, and you flit your eyes in its direction just in time to see its entire body explode. The monster's guts and bright purple blood fly off in every direction, getting on the floor, the ceiling, the zombified bodies of the people unfortunate enough to be nearby, but not on you.

This is Satoru Gojo’s doing.

He steps in front of you, half turned towards you as he moves in between you and the body snatcher. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he loudly says, “Did you really forget about me?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the body snatcher.

Past him, the imposter scowls, raising his hand once more, probably to summon even more monsters, but Gojo’s quicker, and it almost looks like his eyes are glowing even brighter, the blue looking almost white as he whips his head in the faker’s direction. The sound of mangling flesh and breaking bones echoes throughout the room as Gojo, using that mysterious power of his, seems to break the faker’s arm.

The body snatcher hisses loudly and despite the fact that his face is twisted in very obvious pain, he tries to shoot Gojo a mocking smile. “Do you really think you can kill your best friend again?”

“I already told you,” Gojo turns to fully face the monster inhabiting Geto’s corpse. He tilts his head a little to the side and some force starts to squeeze at the faker’s neck. “You’re not Suguru.”

You hear a loud crack as Gojo telekinetically snaps his neck.

The head rolls onto the ground and you almost look away, but then you notice his eyes still moving, looking around. Is he still alive? Then you remember: the thing possessing Suguru Geto’s body was some kind of parasite. “Gojo! Wait! The brain!”

He reacts almost instantly, head turning and in an instant the skull is crushed and all that remains is red splotch on the ground.

You almost relax. Almost.

But the body is still standing.

Horrified, you watch as it quivers violently before falling to the ground. Then what looks like dozens of black spirits start to erupt from the corpse and the entire room is engulfed with a shrill howling.

What the hell is going on?

“Those must be all the cursed spirits he consumed,” Gojo explains uselessly, voice barely audible over the screaming. “Guess he was empty before.”

You don’t bother asking what he means. There are bigger problems right now. “What do we do?”

“No choice to exorcise them,” he answers plainly.

For him to exorcise them, he means. You both know that there’s not much that you can do. You still can’t move and honestly, you don’t even know if it’s possible to get out of the prison realm’s restraints. Not without dying. And if you die now…

Everything will have been for naught.

You’ll reset time and have to do this all over again— assuming you can even get to this point again.

There has to be something, you just have to think outside the box.

Or rather—

“Gojo!”

He glances back at you.

“You need to seal me in the prison realm!” you exclaim. He turns to face you fully, looking bewildered and you start to explain as fast as you can. “Those things are going to attack any minute right? I can’t move or try to hide and I can’t expect you to protect me the entire time and if I die then I’ll end up looping time again, but— but, if you seal me in the prison realm then that won’t happen.”

Gojo frowns, looking conflicted. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“Wouldn't it be easier if you didn’t have to?”

He tilts head and you think he’s conceding your point.

“Please,” you beg, staring at him desperately. “We don’t have much time. The other… cursed spirits will wake up soon too!”

You don’t have to explain that you mean Volcano Head and friends.

It takes only a second for Gojo to consider the very few options you have. “...how do you seal it? Do you know?”

“I think so,” you answer. “There’s no guarantee it’ll work but I think that if you say ‘prison realm, gate close’ it should seal me inside.”

If anything, it’s worth a shot.

Gojo nods. “Do you know how to break the seal?”

“I… don’t,” you confess. You never asked, and you don’t think the body snatcher would have told you even if you did. He only told you that it holds one and that…

That time doesn’t flow in the box.

“...you don’t have to break the seal.”

Gojo frowns, “Wait a sec—”

“Even if I make it past tonight… What if this all happens again? What if I inadvertently trap myself in another time loop?” you ask. “I… I don’t want to have to go through all of this again. It’s better for me in a place where time doesn’t pass.”

You don’t know for sure if it’ll be better, but right here, right now, it seems like the best option.

It feels like an eternity passes before Gojo says anything.

“...fine,” he agrees and you don’t quite know how to feel about it. The howling around you all grows louder. You wonder why the cursed spirits haven’t attacked yet. Maybe Gojo’s power is holding them at bay… for now anyway. You both know that he can’t ignore them forever.

“...before I do, though, mind if I ask you just one thing?”

You blink. “Not sure what I can do for you in this state…”

He laughs. “I just want to know your name.”

What an odd request. Though, now that you think about it, you don’t think that during this loop or any other loop really, you’ve ever told him your name. It only seems fair to tell him, since you’ve known his for longer than he’s known of your existence.

You tell him your name.

He nods, looking as if he’s committing to memory. Probably easier to remember than his phone number. “Any last words?”

You try to think of something. Nothing comes to mind and you just shake your head.

Gojo takes a deep breath, “Alrighty then… Prison realm, gate close.”

Just as it did the many times you’ve seen Satoru Gojo sealed away, the boxes and restraints around you vibrate a little before they start to close around you, growing large enough to fit your body as they approach.

You won’t see it, but once you’re inside the box will shrink and become small enough to fit in the palm of someone’s hand.

Will it be quiet inside?

In your final seconds, some words, some last words come to mind, and you say them, hoping that he hears them in time. “Thank you, Satoru Gojo.”

You burn the glittering glow of his brilliant bright blue eyes into your mind.

And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black.

It’s November 30, 2018— morning on the campus of Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.

Satoru Gojo strides through the school grounds, casually tossing a small silver box with eerie blue eyes known as the prison realm up and down in his grasp. Walking at his side is Shoko Ieiri, a pretty woman who’s been unfortunate enough to have been Satoru’s friend since high school.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shoko asks, twirling a few strands of her long brown hair.

“What do you mean?” Satoru responds nonchalantly. “All my ideas are good ideas.”

Shoko hums in clear dissent, but doesn’t say anything more. Even she knows better than to try and waste her time trying to argue with Satoru. “I’m just worried about their mental state. Didn’t you say that time doesn’t flow in the box?”

“I’d be worried if it was some normal person,” Satoru says. “But after what they’ve gone through I think they’ll be fine.”

“...well, if you say so.”

The two arrive at their destination: the largest training area on the Jujutsu High grounds. Satoru places the prison realm at the center and takes a few steps back with Shoko standing behind him, in case anything happens.

He doesn’t think it will, but it’s always good to take at least a few precautions.

“Gojo, are you sure we should be doing this?” Shoko asks again. “Didn’t they want to remain in the box?”

“Of course I am,” Satoru says with his usual air of confidence before looking back at the prison realm nestled in the grass. He grins and then—

“Prison realm, gate open.”

if you made it this far. thank you. it's my sincerest hope that you enjoyed the ride.

[monstrousmuse]

They released a Word Search for The Book Of Bill….and I have thoughts.

Thank you to the wonderful @trickengf for bringing this to our attention over on Twitter/X.

POTENTIAL SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!

These keywords are…intriguing, to say the least. They seem rather broad, and give the impression of being either chapter titles, or general topics that will be covered in the book.

Right. Time for some speculation:

Global Domination - I think we were all expecting this one, since there was an overt reference to the book containing a ‘key to overthrowing the world (laid out in a handy step-by-step guide’ in its description.

Possession - will we be given insight into how possession works/the ‘mechanics’ surrounding it, and how it feels to possess a human body from the perspective of a being such as Bill? Why he finds physical sensations like pain to be ‘hilarious’, and why ‘body spasms’ are so uncomfortable for him? Maybe he’ll tell us about some of the famous historical figures he enjoyed tormenting, or how ‘itchy’ their meat suits were. 0/10, would not recommend. Will be returning to the store tomorrow. Someone forgot to cut off the tags.

Triangle - triangle anatomy…? A trigonometry lesson? Information surrounding the Second Dimension, perhaps? The book is intended for a ‘mature audience’…Show us what you look like without your exoskeleton, Bill!

Death - either this could mean that Bill will reveal what happened to him after he was ‘erased’ from Stanley’s mind and how he subsequently survived the whole ordeal (including that rather painful-looking punch to the face), or Bill joins the likes of Heidegger and Camus and philosophises for several pages straight. I would personally be happy with either, or both. Although…I still find the idea of the entire book just being some sort of postmortem soul-searching project assigned to him by The Axolotl, and Bill begrudgingly going along with it because it was in the terms of the deal he made to ensure his survival to be absolutely hilarious.

Relationships - …excuse me? Relationships? …With whom, pray tell? Platonic relationships? Romantic relationships? Filial relationships? Bill’s relationship with his family? With The Axolotl, with Time Baby? With Ford?

AXOLOTL - ah, well, there we are. So Bill is most likely going reveal more about his connection with the Big Frills and divulge some interesting bits of lore. …Or not. Does he even know about the ‘sixty degrees that come in threes’ poem?

Demons - interesting. I wonder if there will be a catalogue of the different demons that Bill is aware of/has encountered/is friends with, in a similar fashion to the section in Journal 3 on the categories of ghosts. I also hope that the whole ‘dream demon’ thing will touched upon, since this was an aspect of Bill’s nature that was never really explained in a satisfactory manner, and was arguably even retconned by the time that Weirdmageddon rolled around. Is Bill a ‘dream demon’, or is he a being from the Second Dimension who was somehow rendered both omnipotent and (nigh-)omniscient, and thus merely shares characteristics with true ‘dream demons’, but is not one himself? Neither? Both? And what about the Henchmaniacs? Bill referred to them as ‘demons and nightmares’; are they all different species of demons native to different dimensions across the multiverse, or were they born of the Nightmare Realm and its natural entropy? How is all of this connected to the Mindscape and mortal dreams? So many questions…

Codes - again, will the book include a similar set of pages to the ones that can be found in Ford’s Journal? There are most definitely going to be new ciphers and codes to crack, but for some odd reason, I highly doubt that Bill is going to make it easy for us.

Straws - Silly Straws chapter has been confirmed!!! …In all seriousness, I genuinely have no clue as to what role the illustrious Silly Straw will play in this book. Perhaps there really is going to be an entire section devoted to Bill’s apparent fascination with them, or perhaps there is simply a little throwaway comment tucked in the margins somewhere… I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out when the book is released in *checks calendar* five days.

[acrossthewavesoftime]

Wait... are you saying that Simcoe was possibly a Bicon, in addition to being a hero of Upper Canada?

That, my friend, I am! Albeit with the usual caveats that there are some things we cannot say for certain.

I think there are hints pointing towards Simcoe having been possibly romantically, or even sexually, inclined towards men as well as women.

Apologies for my tardy reply, but this got a tad long, so please proceed under the cut:

Edward Drewe: "My Dorilas"

The first hint is the poem I was talking about, written by his fellow officer Edward Drewe, whom Simcoe knew since childhood. Drewe wrote the poem as a farewell to Simcoe upon being invalided back home to England early in the Revolutionary War.

For me, the repeated emphasis on the sorrow of parting in elborately dramatic scenes (such as imagining what would happen if Simcoe would die before also returning home, complete with a description of his "mangled corse" [sic, and a bit sick, too]) and particularly the repeated address of Simcoe as "Dorilas" seem to point in that direction.

The lovely and ever helpful @my-deer-friend was able to pinpoint a potential origin for the appellation "Dorilas" from the Tale The Loves of Dorilas and Euanthe, published in the Oxford Magazine in 1774.

Assuming the name is a direct reference to either this particular story or similar stories, due to the personal nature of the poem, my assumption would be that Drewe, complementing Simcoe's Dorilas, cast himself in the role of Euanthe.

This, by the way, is the last paragraph of the story:

"[G]olden shafts" and Venus having "crowned the night when Dorilas the pride of swains enjoyed his beloved Euanthe" does sound quite... Well, they surely weren't just looking at is stamp collection together.

If the appellation "Dorilas" in Drewe's poem indeed does refer to Dorilas and Euanthe, I think that would be a very distinct hint as to how the relationship between Drewe and Simcoe might have looked like.

John André: "an officer whose superior integrity and uncommon ability did honour to his country, and to human nature."

Another man who was very important to Simcoe was John André. They knew each other, and enjoyed spending time together. They were of a similar age and had shared interests. Similarly to André, Simcoe could draw well and was a man not shy of conviviality.

When André was captured, Simcoe approached Clinton submitting a plan for André's rescue which would have included putting his own life on the line that was however refused by Clinton.

Now, I'm perfectly sure I have seen Simcoe's letter to Clinton somewhere, but cannot find it. It seems to exist, too, because the plan to rescue André was also known to Simcoe's biographer, Mary Beacock-Fryer, who makes mention of it, sadly without referencing the original (Beacock-Fryer, Mary: John Graves Simcoe. A Biography, p. 56.).

What I can provide you with however is the assertion, in Simcoe's own words, that he

[...] had given directions that the regiment should immediately be provided with black and white feathers as mourning, for the late Major Andre, an officer whose superior integrity and uncommon abiity did honour to his country, and to human nature. John Graves Simcoe, Journal, p. 152 (1844 reprint).

In his so-called Journal, a work he compiled in order to highlight his own role in the war and political stances which he wrote with the intention to serve as a stepping-stone for his (political) career after his return to civilian life (and half-pay) in England, there are not many hints as to how his relationship with André may have looked like, which, given its nature, makes sense.

He does however highlight, in his Journal and later private letters, how greatly André's death upset him, and allegedly, though I have never found any proof for this, André's self-portrait, drawn at the eve of his execution, was copied by Simcoe's artiscally gifted wife to give to Honora Sneyd, André's former sweetheart.

There are no concrete hints to any relationship in a romantic or sexual sense with André, in any case however, I think it bespeaks their close bond that Simcoe was willing to sacrifice his own life for André, and had the Queen's Rangers add feathers to their hats as a token of respect and rememberance to him.

Mary Anne Burges: Defying Social Expectations

Simcoe was by most accounts a person who was naturally jovial, affectionate and inclined to see the good in everyone; local stories and historical anecdotes about Simcoe highlight his approachable character.

One curious personal relationship was that with Mary Anne Burges, his wife's best friend; the two were a 'package deal', which he knew; legend has it that after she had accepted his proposal, Elizabeth Gwillim, the future Mrs. Simcoe, sent her fiancé to talk to her best friend and promise her that he would never come between them.

How much of this story is true will remain lost to history, but Simcoe had no issues with Burges moving into the vincinity and being a constant visitor. She even became, in the absence of blood-relations, an aunt of sorts to the Simcoe children who would help take care of the four eldest daughters while their parents were away in Upper Canada.

Mary Anne Burges and Elizabeth Simcoe were friends ever since their teenage years and Burges sometimes came to stay with her bestie, who was then living with her maternal aunt Margaret and the latter's husband, Admiral Samuel Graves, whenever her cash-strapped parents considered putting pressure on her to get married already.

Mary Anne Burges remained single for life, carved out a professional existence (albeit an at times precarious one) for herself writing for magazines, had a great interest in the natural sciences and even became a single (foster) mother to an orphaned relation. Here is what she wrote to Elizabeth when a gentleman decided to try his luck with her by way of a surprise proposal:

[...] so I wrote him word that I had more a determination to continue single all my life [...]. Mary Anne Burges to Elizabeth Simcoe, 8 June 1795.

Her refusal to the proposal had nothing to do with the particular gentleman in question; she was simply not interested in men in a romantic or sexual capacity, which she seems to have been very open about. In another letter to her best friend, shortly after the Simcoe's had left for Upper Canada in 1792, she gives an account of a spat between herself and the notoriously quarrelsome Margaret Graves, jealous of the close relationship between her niece and Mary Anne Burges. Margaret Graves mused loudly that friendships between married (Elizabeth Simcoe) and unmarried ladies (Mary Anne Burges) were very improper, because unmarried ladies might ask a married lady about advice regarding her lovers. Mary Anne Burges coldly replied that "[t]hat can easily be overcome by not having any lovers."

Mary Anne Burges remained a trusted friend close with the Simcoe-family for as long as she lived. Given that the Simcoes were very close, and Mary Anne had been around the Graves' house, too, I would guess that Simcoe would have known either from Mary Anne Burges herself or from his wife, that she was resolved not to conform to the common expectations held for women in the day. Despite that, she was allowed a close relationship not only with his wife, but particularly with his children.

To me, Simcoe's relationship with Mary Anne Burges evidences that he was more, for lack of a better word, open-minded than one would expect of an aspiring social climber with politically otherwise conservative leanings in the late 18th century, which may have influenced his view on and willingness to engage in romantic or perhaps even sexual relationships with other men.

Samuel Graves: Simcoe's upbringing

This open-mindedness likely stems from his upbringing between his mother's and his godfather's household. While I sadly know only very little about his mother, I know quite a fair bit about his godfather Samuel Graves.

Graves valued education (and scolded his older brother because he considered his nephews too little educated to successfully make their way in the world), was married to a member of the Bluestocking circle who believed that women should have more legal rights, especially regarding social mobility through education and vocational training as well as allowing married women to hold property in their own name, and allowed Mary Anne Burges to stay in his home whenver she required an escape from her home life.

Even more interesting is that due to a severe case of malaria contracted while serving abroad as a young man, he had grown infertile. He knew this, and was open about it to his family. Taking this into account, his marriages defy the contemporary socio-religious expectations somewhat as they could never produce any offspring; his two marriages were, from the pieces of evidence I have, likely for love.

His second wife, Elizabeth Simcoe's aunt Margaret, née Spinckes, appears to have been firm on never wanting any children of her own due to having watched her sister die in childbirth, which, coupled with her aversion to giving up her substantial fortune to a husband, had kept her from marrying so far; looking at her marriage to Samuel Graves, it seems that she not only trusted him with her property, she was also happy to have sexual relations with him, some light allusions to this apparently very delctable part of married life she left behind in letters.

Conclusion:

It was in this at the second glance rather surprising environment that Simcoe grew up in, and that may have influenced his personal development, and perhaps instilled in him an acceptance of people not conforming to social expectations, which may have influenced his possible relationships with men such as Edward Drewe and perhaps even John André.

Simcoe's acceptance of Mary Anne Burges as a close friend to his wife and daughters (and to himself, too), who by modern terminology would likely fall under the umbrella term "queer", shows that throughout his life, he was accepting of people who, especially regarding personal and potentially sexual relationships, defied social expectations.

How his own relationships with other men may have looked like concretely, and how the people involved would have perceived, termed and described them might sadly be forever lost to history; for a great analysis of terminology and (what we today consider to be) queerness in an 18th century context, I will link this excellent post by @my-deer-friend.

Especially Edward Drewe's potentially sexually underpinned poem may suggest that a relationship going beyond a romantic friendship between him and Simcoe may have existed.

I think that in Simcoe's case, no prior evaluation of his friendships with men of a similar age prior to his marriage has taken place yet because firstly, most scholarship on him was written in the 19th/early 20th century when queer history was, to put it mildly, not exactly a priority, and secondly, because his very happy, monogamous marriage (about which he wrote poetry containing such great lines as "[...] shall my Eliza with true passion burn") and eleven (!) children do not instantly suggest any attraction to other men on his part.

A further, more in-depth analasys would be a desideratum on my part, especially because I believe there is some basis for it meriting further research.

[sheshe-cartoonlover]

Heyy! Here I'll uploading my sketches of different cartoons!!

Orrrr...

Different ideas or thoughts of different cartoons :D

Well, things like that...

Almost all about cartoons :))

Also... Can you see my pfp? 'Cause I uploaded It many times, but I can't see It TvT

Sooo... I forgot to upload my description and I prefer to write what I'd write there directly here!

About me:

You can call me... Basically any way you like, SheShe Is okk too :))

Orrr... You call me Rain or something like that... I usually use that! It's my art name...? Kind of...

Okk, let's move on!! I'm 15yo... Too much... Too much... I think I've missed two or three birthdays, because sometimes I wake up thinking I'm 12yo... Yeahh, that's It! Just ignore all the "..."! It's just not really how I talk irl, but I can't really talk how I talk irl, maybe I'll leave a vocal thingy here someday, since I desperately want to talk!! My English Is bad, remember that! I'm a B2, I think?? I don't really know my level, I just know I can read B2/C1 books, well, I usually mess up with few/little and many/much... When writing or speaking. Talking about my pronounce, It Is well, really meh... You'll hear that laterrr!

I wrote this poem just for saying that I'm 15yo! Oh, my!

ANYWAY, yeah, I know I repeat things often, I'm totally self-conscious about that and I apologise! But... I TRY, but I can't not do It!!! It's sooo hard! It's like talking slowly! Who on earth Is able do that?

Oh, let's come back to myself ✨

I'm Italian and I'm REALLY can't take It anymore with all the hotness hereee! It's like 40°C degrees, I hate the Sun! Sorry, Sun, I love your complexion... But not your role, still don't explode, pleeeeeease!

After that little talk to myself with the Sun, you probably stopped reading, I'm not even asking myself why! If you are still reading, I think you must know that you're not even halfway, because I may have been lacking of social interactions these days and when that happens... I talk to myself, so why don't be even crazier! Talk to random people who may encounter my post In this sea of posts (worst metaphor ever, I know) and ask themselves why? Why would she do that?

OHHH, RIGHT!! I'm a girl! Pronouns She/Her, I don't really like to be referred as He/Him, so please remember that, I won't be mad If you don't, but... Don't be offended If I'm having a bad day and I tell you something, like "I'm actually I girl!!", I apologize here, sorryyy 😓😓...

Let's move onto Sexuality, should we? (Yeah, we definitely should, I know, I'll tell you how many words are there In this poem at the end, which Is... Uhm... Pretty far!)...

ANYWAY (I'll using a lot of anyways to reconnect myself to the MAIN conversation here, yeah, I know It's just a conversation with MYself!)... Counting of anyways at the end!!

ANYWAY, I'm In the ARO/ACE Spectrum, I know for sure I'm Apothisexual but... What about romantic orientation? Something In the ARO Spectrum for sure, just not Apothiromantic, since, I'm not romance-repulsed... I mean, I don't like romance on myself, like kisses are a big no and, I'm not perfectly fine with physical touch either... But, I really love others romance!! Literally like every fangirl!! But I don't know If Apothiromantic to that!? So I'll be sticking to Aromantic or [Fictoromantic], even though I prefer Apothiromantic, referring to how I feel about romance with ME...

I'm a cartoon addicted, I don't watch anything If not cartoons!! (No, but I mean for real)... I'm starting to become real-people-repulsed, well not for real, I love my friends, but, I just wish we were, like, animated better? It's difficult to explain, maybe I'm just weird... I literally can't watch shows with real people If not at the theatre, because I feel like repulsed... I get bored In some minutes...

ALSO, things for which I'll probably get bullied at school If I tell anyone, I'm afraid of blood, like a lot... Not mine... But others'... Yes.. Even If It's just the slightest sight of blood... If It's drawn I still have problems, but less, like I can convince myself that It Isn't blood, so my head doesn't start going crazy and almost fainting or... I just look away :D!

TPD doesn't have much blood, luckily and... Only on dark scenes, most of the times, so I say to myself: "It Isn't blood... It's Isn't blood..."

That's like:

Me: "It Isn't blood... It's Isn't blood..."

Viren: "The Son's Blood..." or "The Blood of The Soon...", I'm not sure!

Anyway!!

Me: "IT'S NOT BLOOD! IT'S NOT BLOOD!"

So, well, sometimes I actually believe It... And It's working! When Viren did that disgusting hearth thingy I don't wanna remember, at first, I didn't even think It was blood... Well, then yes, so I started looking away or looking at the background ehe...

This Is starting to feel like a personal diary-

ANYWAY, where were we? I don't even remember...

Oh. Right!!! My lucky number Is 17!!!

I won't tell you ALL my personality typings, just know I'm a ENFP E2w3, ok?

Wanna know something? Ask In the comments below!!

And no, It's NOT the end... Just lemme find a topic, because I really want to talk... You can see how crazy I am by the fact that I literally have a chat with myself on TextingStory free version, 'cuz I have no money ✨✨

Wanna see some of the chat???

I guess not, but I wanna show y'all!!

Nevermind, It's more embarrassing than this whole thing...

I'm working on MLP tarots with myself, anyway!!! I have just 2 cards ready for now, well "ready"... I have just 2 doodles of the concepts... I have 0 - The Fool - Discord and I - The Magician - Trixie, but I have to color them digitally and It's gonna be a pain since... Well, let's say I'm not the best with digital art... But still, I should be able to trace and color, right?? Yeah, I don't think so neither, but we'll see after I have all the 78 cards ready!!!

My idea Is to give each card a different character, according to their story or just something near to their story, since finding 78 DIFFERENT characters was hard... Actually 85, but shhh, just because two cards need 2 characters and one needs 3... Not really the best things ever... Finding the Kings was the worst ehe... At least now I can say my favourite seed Is CUPS!! And that If you get 5 Is bad... Also Death!! Death Is worse... I already decided all the characters yesterday, did I already tell you that?

Anyway...

I know It's bad, I just tried... Ahahahaha

They are the same size anyway, don't let yourself be fooled by the pictures and for the King/Queens and Empress/Emperor you'll see... I'm not a PEDO!!! I don't actually ship them! They are just characters that fitted In, Kings and Queens are not related! Nor are the Empress and the Emperor!!

Fun fact: I have 8 full notebooks I made In 3-4 years... Maybe 2? It feels so weird... I didn't change In these notebooks, just In the last ones, I understood myself better... Since I write as Rain, not as She... Yeah, She Is a real life nickname people give me, so well, SheShe too... I really became more mentally ill In these years... But also a lot more like In this post... In my notebooks, I put all my weirdness and I feel happy about It, I don't know If It's good or not...

I'm also dark, sometimes, thought, honestly... Like I really want my parents to divorce, like I want It, I'd be happy and out there there are people who maybe have PTSD due to their parents divorce... I feel cruel for this...

ANYWAY!!! LET'S TALK OF LIGHTER THINGS!! Even thought, my playlist playing "Different Beast" creeps me out, If the next It's "Monster", I'd be sad for my own cruelness... I'm trying soo hard to be KIND, KIND AND KIND... People say: "Don't be kind or you'll be used!", but what If I like being used??? What If I'm fine with It and I take joy In being used, because I know that my being used does something good to others, while my not being kind, hurts them? Like sometimes I don't understand people, I usually thought that this thing of using was realistic and helpful, but some months ago I realised I wrong I was! Anyway, yeah, people use me or think about using me, even not voluntarily... One time, one of my classmates told me: "You do everything people tell you, you're so usable"... I told him "I know" and I laughed, "It doesn't bother me" - I said.

Anyway my YouTube FYP, because yes

Sorry, It's In Italian 😓😓

Anyway, "No Longer You" Is playing, It's even more even depressing than "Monster"...

Anyway, even If It's the song which scares me the most In all EPIC, "Monster" Is my favourite song In The Musical!!!

Anyway, my current favourite cartoon Is MLP: FIM, well, actually from a lot of years, but... Still love It!!!

I'll finish this ✨ Poem ✨ later

I'M BACK! I'M BACK!!

OK, so I thought you may be asking why In my notebook I have a date of day that still has to come (5/4), I wish It was because I'm from the future, but It's because I'm a dummy... In my notebooks, I always put dates that has to come, It's because they're Rain's notebooks, not She's notebooks and In Rain's world the time works different... It's never the same date as today, It's always the future, but really random... Like sometimes In a day I put 2 or more different dates orr, one day I put the date of 2 days after and some days even a week or a month... This started with a date of months later, but I was busy, this date arrived and well, the dates came nearer ehe...

I'm loving writing this essay, like It's really awesome, It's like a therapy!!! Quite like VAT7K, which helped and Is helping with my loneliness and fear of abandonment... See, I don't know If you want to read my psychological talk... There aren't a lot of who would want to... At least, when I talk about that with my Mom I feel worse than before... But, maybe with you? I talked about It with other friends... Really... Almost everyone, even If I tried to make It seem A LOT less a pain than It really was, because... Because that's what my Mom makes me think... Like, I don't wanna become a drama queen and give the impression that ONLY I suffer, I don't know, my Mom always says that "No one wants to be your (mine) friend, because you're (I'm) always like this"...

Like, I love to talk about psychology and things I like, but when I talk with my Mom or my Grandma, my Dad... I feel so non listened and dumb for even having started that dumb conversation that... I started to not talk about my Interests with my friends or, even when I do It, I feel like even If they reply... They seem Interested... Their smile Is fake and they are just annoyed, bored and uninterested just because of me, so I stop... And change topic...

ANYWAY, I'm making this whole thing seem like It's my Mom fault, but no, she's good!! She doesn't just realise she's not really the mother she wishes to be and I'm not the daughter she wants ehe... But she's a lot of fun!!! I definitely prefer her to those bratty Moms all about pretty dresses and ugly long nails... Augh... (SORRY IF I ACCIDENTALLY INSULTED YOU!! If I don't like long nails or dressing pretty It's just me, not you, you are not a bad personality to me just because of that, you're even better than me, because you actually care about you look, while I don't... Well, I do... But In my ways... Anyway, I love y'all anyway!! Remember, It doesn't matter how you dress, y'all are still beautiful!!! I just don't want a Mom who tells me to dress pretty, while I don't to ♥️)!

Hey!! Wanna know I dress and how I WOULD dress If I could?

I'll show some things from Pinterest!!! You're completely free to not like It, of course, I have not seen anyone with my style so far... Well, maybe my BFF, but I'm... Well, even more colourful and self expressive than her!!

Ohhh, I can't wait to show youuu! I need to find someone with my style!!!

First, this kind of oversized hoodies, all with bunnies images like this one! But, figure them In a different colour, like... Dark or Light Pink/Lavender/Red and with a big pocket right below the bunny!!!

This would be a good example of a T-shirt I'd wear, same colours (Dark or Light Pink/Lavender/Red, some white), always with Bunnies!!!

Always long shirts.

I'd wear this kind of shirts/hoodies with cartoon characters too, but It's too embarrassing ehe...

For the pants, sweatpants or leggins!

Same colours are before, you know Dark or Light Pink/Lavender/Red... Ehe... They are my colours... Yellow too, thought!

-

Now It's summer here, soo, I just wear this kind of shorts, but with the colours you know, but I'll repeat: Dark or Light Pink/Lavender/Red...

And I also wear singlets like these, same colours (Dark or Light Pink/Lavender/Red)!

For the HOT SUN I also always have this...

NO WAYYY, 10 IMAGES LIMIT?? THIS IS INSANE!?

Sorry, guys, I'll delete the MLP picture... 🥲

Yeah, I wear this and I probably look dumb and really funny, but It's really useful (yes, I got the idea from that MLP episode)...

And a fan!!! I always bring my fan!!! Oh, and I always bring my rucksack!!! I have to make you see It!!! I'll delete the leggings image... You know how leggings are made, after all, right?

I have to give you an idea of how my rucksack looks like, sorryyy!!

It's similar to this, but It has longer ears and It's more colourful, It had mixed light blue, lavender and light pink... Mine also has a tail and paws... The base colour In the back, which here Is light pink, In mine Is lavender... Also mine has A LOT of keychain... AHHH!! I HAVE 2 MLP KEYCHAINSS!!! 1 Scootaloo and 1 Twilight, they arrived two weeks ago, then an heart carved In wood, two bracelets from the Camping I go on Holiday since I was born: one from last year (ocean blue), and one I'm using this year (Pinkie's mane pink)... Also 2 Scooby-Doos, which are those things with Intertwined threads, I don't know?? I translated this word, Imma be honest here! Also there I have a Marmot small-sized plushie with a tiny bow, a lavender butterfly 🦋 and my school's keychain!! It should be everything... You don't wanna know what's inside, but sure there are plenty sticks... I'll probably use them to make magic wands once I get home, since I need some!! Did I mention I'm Into witchcraft!!!

All the photos are from Pinterest!!!

I got an Ideaaa!! I'll make my own diary on Wattpad, best therapy ever!!! Maybe I'll make some friends too...!! I can't wait!! Even If as a format... I love Tumblr more... But... YOU CAN PUT JUST 10 IMAGES IN A POST??? WHATT??

Anyway, I can't count the words or the anyways like I promised, 'cause I can't copy the Intere text... TvT

I'm so sorry...

This Is probably the end, but see you In my new Journal on Wattpad, I'll probably write about my life here too and I'll register those promised vocals... :))!!

Anyway, I changed my mind... Tumblr Is A LOT better than Wattpad, so I'm gonna use this both as a Journal and to post drawings... Well, still a Journal and this was my Intro :))

[foundfamilynonsense]

OKAY! Rant about Achilles and Patroclus

So! I am the type of person (aroace) who’s like “people ship things too much” and “if I hear they can’t be friends they’re too close I’m going to kill people” etc and Achilles and Patroclus is legit the ONLY ship I feel strongly about.

Bc like. I’ve read the Iliad. Cover to cover every word multiple times. It never expressly says they are in a relationship.

Now!! There are other epic poems written around the same time about the iliad that does have them as expressly in a relationship and having sex. But in the original tale and in Homer’s epic, they are not.

But!!!! I talk to my sister in law about Achilles and Patroclus being in love in this game I’m playing and my dad (the history teacher) is like “yeah but really they were cousins” and it. It bugged me more than anything ever has. So. Let me do a little run down. K?

For one: yes, Achilles and Patroclus were cousins! Fun fact! Im not sure what the correct term for it is but I believe they were first cousins once removed. Which sounds closer than it is: Zeus slept with this girl Ægina and had Aeacus who had peleus who had Achilles. This girl Ægina later got married to this mortal named Actor (yeah that was his name) and had Menoetius who had Patroclus. So…. Achilles’s great-grandmother was patroclus’s grandmother. But considering that this was Ancient Greece and also they’re only related through a woman it… really doesn’t matter much.

Now. Let’s talk about the ways in which it is possible Achilles and Patroclus were in a romantic relationship.

For one. No one gave a shit about first cousins once removed back then. Ok. Whatever. In Greek minds back then that did not count as related. Achilles never refers to Patroclus as his kin in the Iliad.

Two: there is an instance in the Iliad where Achilles is shown to be attracted to men. Agamemnon offers Achilles a shit ton of stuff when he is trying to get him back in the battle. He offers Achilles his daughter. Then, in the same breath, he offers Achilles his son. So. Why is he offering Achilles his son? Since he doesn’t differentiate, we can assume it is for the same reason he’s offering his daughter. So if you’re so so sure it’s not sexual, then please come up with a reason achilles would want his daughter that isn’t sexual too please.

Now. History-wise, the ancient Greeks were really chill about the gay thing. Every single god, except I think Hera, is gay. And Hera is only exempt bc she was the perfect wife who never cheated ever no sir no ma’am. Anyway, Apollo had as many male lovers as female. Artemis did not feel romantic attraction (hell yeah). Zeus made his male lover Ganymede immortal to be the god’s cup bearer.

Now. Sleeping with a guy was not considered the same as sleeping with a woman who could be your wife. A lot of high born men had male lovers. However, if you were high ranking, it was expected you’d be the top.

So we have Achilles, a prince, and his trusty companion Patroclus. Patroclus was highborn, but he killed a boy when he was very young and got stripped of his title. Since princes don’t usually screw around with peasants, but needed to be the top and the higher ranking guy in the couple, Patroclus was legit the perfect male lover for Achilles. So. There is no reason why Achilles and Patroclus were not sexually and romantically involved.

Now. The Iliad has a big thing about epithets. Which, basically, are a short one/two word description put before a character’s name. So like “swift-footed achilles” and “strong Agamemnon” and whatever. Almost all the guys in the Iliad have epithets referring to either battle or which god likes them most. The three used for Patroclus are “dear to Zeus” (normal for guys) “great-hearted” (a bit odd…) and “gentle” (which is literally only used of Patroclus). These are not the epithets of a manly heterosexual man. These are the epithets of a man who is being feminized. Why? Most likely bc men who sleep with high born men need to be seen as more feminine to protect the high born man’s honor. Of course I can’t prove that. Bc in the Iliad it never out right says they were sleeping together.

What I’m trying to say here, is that while the text never explicitly states Achilles and Patroclus had a sexual relationship, based on the time period, I assume those listening to the iliad back then would have no doubts.

Now, there’s some other stuff. Like how Alexander the Great wrote fan fiction where Achilles was the bottom. The “canon divergent” part not necessarily being them being gay, but Achilles being a bottom.

And then. Y’know. When Patroclus died Achilles refused to eat or sleep. He forgot all about dishonor. He asked for his own ashes to be spread in the same urn as Patroclus so they’d be together in the afterlife.

Also I’d like to point out that the Iliad does not start with the beginning of the war, but starts with Agamemnon begging Achilles to come back to the fight after being dishonored (setting up Patroclus feeling bad and begging Achilles to help them) and does not end with the Trojan horse (or even with Achilles dying!) but with Patroclus coming to him as a ghost begging him to let hector have a proper burial and achilles giving hector’s body back to his father. (Also before he leaves Achilles is like “let’s embrace one last time!” So like. do with that what you will). What does this show? The Iliad is not about the war. The Iliad is about Achilles and Patroclus’s relationship. It’s starts “sing, goddess, the rage of Peleus’s son Achilles.” This is a story of grief. There is no other way of interpreting it.

So. I will say this: it is fine to decide Achilles and Patroclus are not romantically or sexually involved. That is an interpretation.

However. 1. Romantic interpretations are honest to god more historically accurate. 2. Achilles is gay no matter what.

And 3. If they are not gay. This is still the story: two men love each other more than anyone else in their lives. They are devoted to each other, and when Patroclus died the loss drove achilles to such rage and grief that the gods himself had to intervene before he won the Trojan war all by himself.

Achilles refers to Patroclus as “Poly philtatos” which translates to “the most beloved by far.”

What I’m trying to say in this long rant is that I honestly don’t care if people say Achilles and Patroclus were not together. As long as they’re ok with the fact that two people who were not in a romantic relationship were so devoted and in love with each other a great epic about them is told to this day. You’re either ok with the gay, or you bash all amatonormativity and you tell me that these two men don’t need romance to be this close to each other. Choose. you can’t have both.

[loveandshatteredglass]

Do you really have a crush on your ex's best friend? 😭 Which poems are about him if I may ask? (They sound nice btw! Good luck xx)

I do 🥺😭 All the poems I've posted in the past couple of days are about him, but I'll briefly explain the background behind each of them

Falling in love: A short overview of our situation, that I'm falling in love with him after spending so much time talking lately, that I'm afraid of losing him, that I'll love his bad sides as much as the good sides, that I'm grateful for him supporting me despite his close friendship with my ex, that the yearning is killing me but we also need to wait until the calm after the storm before we can even consider starting anything

Devouring: This wasn't specifically about him, I've wanted to write a poem about romantic/erotic cannibalism for a while, but since my thing for it is my brand and sort of a running gag between us, I was inspired by him to write it

Take you home: We're both planning to go to a concert together so this was loosely based on some kind of fantasy when that happens. Written while I was horny, I think that explains a lot

Would you?: A vague physical description and appreciation of his personality followed by a debate with myself whether or not I should confess how I really feel about him

Former love's best friend: I expressed the shame I feel for crushing on my ex boyfriend's best friend simply because he's been taking care of me since the breakup in the ways listed and more, which is me asking the reader if they wouldn't fall in love too if someone did all of this for them

Crush: In this I was talking about gushing over my crush to my friends and them saying he might be into me too, about which I'm not sure if they're just happy to see I found a distraction or if they genuinely believe in the possibility. It's predicting that I need more time until I'm ready for a new relationship as much as a promise to love him how I want to be loved and hope he reciprocates

[human-still-developing]

Constructive Criticism: A Guide

Hey everyone :)) Here's a quick guide that I've created for giving others constructive criticism. This is by no means 'all inclusive' and you should of course use your own judgment before sending anyone feedback of any kind, but here a few general rules that I use when writing con crit (as a professional editor) <3

For those wondering, don't worry, I'm still working on another SoC rant and some more poetry but this is just an interesting aside I thought I might post :DD

So without any further ado, the concrit rules:

Firstly and most importantly, don't provide constructive criticism unless the writer has explicitly asked for feedback. If you're asked by a friend to 'let me know what you think' -- this is generally an opening for support, rather than concrit

Be sure to read the text as an objective piece of work, with a clear frame of mind. These may seem like obvious stipulations, but avoid reading anything for the couple of hours before you read the work to prevent your mind being swayed to a particular judgment (e.g. reading a famous poet's work might make you more critical of a novice writer's first poetry). On that point, remember:

You are not here to give judgement! Avoid stating any terms like "Overall, this piece of work is good enough for ...." or "I think that I would rate this work a ../10". Your job is to provide an analysis of the text in front of you, not its value or worth

Okay, so now to the actual concrit. Lets say you've read this person's work and you're ready to give your feedback:

Always open up with your interpretation of the work so that the writer can see what exactly you are thinking as you are analysing. This statement could be something as simple as "The poem that you've sent me was an evocative teenage love story intersected with romantic poetry to show the everlasting nature of love". In the case that you have mis-interpreted the text, this allows the writer to take your further evaluations with a grain of salt and also gives them a subtle nudge to perhaps improve the clarity of their message :)

List your points in size order. What I mean by that is start with the easiest thing that the writer can fix (e.g. your basic line edit including spelling, punctation, grammar, word choice, etc.) and then slowly work down your edit as you reach the bigger ideas (e.g. major themes, overarching concepts, etc). There are a few benefits for doing it this way. Firstly, as a reader, it makes logical sense to evaluate the themes of a text after you have finished reading the entire work; this way you have a greater appreciation for the text as a whole (which is required for a concept) rather than the text as a collection of small parts. Secondly, for a writer who may be using your edit like a checklist, they can quickly 'tick-off' the easy fixes and then work the bones of their text more thoroughly (also its often hard to start editing your work and simple fixes are a good early motivator).

Afterwards, I always like to go for the 'one for one' rule. For every one feature you 'criticise', give one place where the writer as done well. These should generally be linked if possible. I'll give an example, say my friend who is writing the teenage love story has a really compelling plot that falls short due to flat characters....you'd state something like "You create a touching story that could be enhanced through better characterisation." So this way, you acknowledge the work the writer has done and also introduce your feedback. Notice how instead of criticising, I posed the above statement like an improvement. Give the person something concrete to work on!

Expand! Apart from the judgemental trope, the other trap that editors often fall into is writing wishy-washy statements that don't really have a solution. I'm sure we've all been in that english class with that one teacher who circles entire paragraphs with the overly descriptive term 'vague' and not had a clue about what to fix. Don't be that teacher! Try and list as many clear examples of what the author could touch up on and fix (without sounding too domineering of course). For example: "The characterisation of your protagonist Sue falls a little flat because it's hard to have empathy for her. You portray her as an extremely beautiful young woman who is bullied for her good looks but is still really popular....I'd suggest reconsidering how realistic this may be. You have an amazing connection built up between Sue and Alex however, perhaps a greater focus on that rather than so much description about Sue might be more effective :)"

Finally, wrap everything up with a nice (generally uplifting) conclusion. My advice is that no matter how terrible the text you have just read, the writer has taken the steps to go out and send you their work! This is much more difficult that it seems! Congratulate them for their effort, perhaps point out some of the nicest parts of their work. I like to add short quotes from the work that I found particularly interesting at the end. This not only leaves them on a happier note but also makes them feel comfortable and safe about sharing their work and moving to improve it! Remember, you have had plenty of time to talk about the flaws, this is the time to build up their morale and let them work through everything.

Okay, so now you've written out your concrit. Here are a few things you should do before sending it to the person:

Give the text another read! I cannot emphasise how important this point is!!! Often themes or concepts that might not have made too much sense the first time become a lot clearer now that you are in the world of the text. Also you can make sure that your critiques actually match the work :)

Give your concrit a read. Try and avoid basic spelling and grammar mistakes and make sure you don't sound too patronising or rude. Perhaps sprinkle some other nice things in there too :)

Remember, a piece of writing is often someone's baby! It can be personal and vulnerable for someone to hear its criticism. Be kind and supportive in your work!

If everything is good, send through your concrit to the person. Generally I like to wait a few days or until the person themselves reaches out to me again before talking about the text anymore. Give them some time to process; allow them the space to decide what they want to do with their work.

Sometimes, your writer might not take all of your edits on board. That is perfectly okay! You, like any other human being, can be flawed and have opinions that don't align with someone else. At the end of the day, it is not your work that you are giving concrit to and it is entirely the writer's decision of how they want to shape their work. Try not to take ignored concrit too personally :)

So there you have it; a relatively comprehensive guide to giving concrit. Whether it be for the next literary journal you edit or for that fanfiction you've read (with a writer specifically asking for concrit ofc), I hope some of these tips and tricks help you in your editing work :) If you have any questions, feel free to ask me (I love asks, comments and DMs) :))) I might consider doing beta reading here in the future and if you have requests you can also contact me as above!

Concrit is welcome for this article (ironic, isn't it?) cos I've literally written it all in one sitting and not even had a glance over it before posting (terrible writing advice...don't do that) :) Reblogs and likes are also extremely appreciated!!! Anyways, happy editing out there folks :)

Until next time,

Hics <3

[frodo-with-glasses]

Another friendship ask! A bit of an odd pair this time: Frodo and Arwen 3, 5, and 8. -Princess of Words

Hi fanfic friend!! :-D Sorry I’ve been sitting on this one for so long! I swear I’ve been trying to come up with answers for the past couple days I’ve been recuperating, but it’s just like…nothing is happening??

Arwen feels so distant and ethereal in the books (which is a nice way to say “no personality” *cough*) that it’s hard to come up with answers that don’t just feel like I’m making crap up and slapping it onto an established character. But with that said…

3. “A random headcanon I have of them”

Things I can’t prove but just KnowTM:

Bilbo was the one who broke the ice between the two of them. See, Frodo is actually smart, which means he treats Arwen with awe and respect befitting the near-literal reincarnation of Luthien. Bilbo, on the other hand, is no respecter of persons, and he can and will barge into your house; eat your food; sing about your absent grandfather in front of God, your dad, and everybody; and go on to needle your boyfriend—a future king!—about his crush on you with not a single crap in the world given. A week or two into the Rivendell stay, Bilbo looked up like “haven’t you spoken to Lady Arwen yet?” and Frodo, having some semblance of DecencyTM, stammered “n-no, Uncle, of course I haven’t, I couldn’t possibly—” and Bilbo was like “oh pish-posh, she’ll love you, let’s go!” and grabbed his hand and dragged him halfway across the Homely House before he could stutter out a protest. Frodo nearly melted right on the spot trying to greet her properly in Elvish. Arwen just smiled.

They bonded over sharing stories about Aragorn. Arwen had already heard Aragorn’s own account of everything he’d been doing while he was away, but she was very intrigued—and endlessly entertained—to hear from Frodo’s perspective the story of the terrifying Man in the corner of the tavern in Bree. The first time Frodo heard her laugh was when he related his terror at the whole “I could have it—NOW” incident, and Arwen laughed like the glittering of jewels and the music of clear water spilling over a rocky waterfall, and Frodo’s soul about left his body for a second.

Arwen is the closest that Frodo has ever come to being attracted to a woman (and yet he still isn’t). I personally headcanon that Frodo has no sexual or romantic attraction whatsoever, but of course that doesn’t stop him from having a sort of artist’s appreciation for beauty when he sees it. However, everything he’s tried to write about Arwen comes off more like descriptions of a vibrant sunset or a majestic tree or an ethereal reflection on the surface of the ocean, and Sam once pointed this out. “It’s true well enough, Mr. Frodo, but it doesn’t much sound like you’re talking about a lass, if you don’t mind me saying it.” “Well,” he asked, “if you wrote a poem about Rosie, what’s the first thing you’d mention?” And then Sam went beet red and muttered something about “a couple of things” and then ran out of the room very quickly and left Frodo more confused than when he’d started.

5. “A scene I wish we had of them”

See above :-3 Any one of those would be nice, really.

8. “Who I think is the ‘crazier’ one”

Oh, dude, this is a tricky one. “Crazy” isn’t really a word I’d use to describe Frodo or Arwen; and if they are crazy, it’s the premeditated kind, the one where they look at a course of action, honestly weigh the pros and cons, and decide that the benefits outweigh the pain and they’ll go ahead with it anyway.

Both Frodo and Arwen sacrificed almost everything for love; Arwen gave up immortality and spending the afterlife with her people in order to stay with Aragorn, and Frodo gave up…well, himself, and everything…for the love of all the peoples of Middle Earth, to destroy the Ring no matter what it cost him. If that’s “crazy”, then I think they’re about equal, honestly. Depends how much weight you put on romantic love. But I’m not sure “crazy” is exactly the word to describe it.

…But that’s a bit too heavy for this ask game, so. Let’s go with Frodo. Frodo’s mortal. Mortals tend to do stupid stuff. Most likely to dance on a table and bust his tailbone just to offer a distraction from his mouth-running cousin? Pre-Quest Frodo. Yeah.

FRIENDSHIP ASK GAME!

[mrsbrookegillespie]

+Homework+ Luke x Fem!Reader

(Not My Gif)

Description:When Y/N’s progress report comes out it seems as though their mom isn’t happy with the letters that follow each subject. So when they have to cancel on her friends band rehearsal to do their assignments it leads to an interesting encounter with the brunette guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms.

Warning: Stress, school, bad grades, mild angst, mostly fluff. 

+Homework+

Luke is not someone to judge another for having bad grades, considering what his report cards looked like, and the fact he dropped out of high school at seventeen. But, Y/N has two more years left in school, despite her age, and frankly… She’s struggling. “What’s this?” her mother asks, showing her an email.

“Those are… My grades?” Y/N shrugs, avoiding the small letters that labeled her as dumb, and lazy.

“Y/N! You need to start getting serious about this. You’re going to flunk out!” Y/N internally winces at her mother shouting at her. “I’m very disappointed about this…”

“Well,” Y/N starts. “I’ll do it!” She bites her lip, sliding away from her desk. “Tomorrow,” she adds, looking at the time. “I promised Julie I’d watch band practice today.” Her mom gives her a blank stare.

“Y/N! We’ve been very laid back with you, you’ve never been grounded or anything, but right now I want you to stay at home, and get your missing work done.” 

“But--”

“No!” 

Her mom closes the door on the way out, leaving Y/N feeling the stress of school. She grabs her phone, clicking Julie’s contact. “Hey! Are you almost here?” Julie asks.

“I can’t make it…” Y/N breathes out.

“What?!” Julie exclaims. “But, you promised to be here today, we’re performing tomorrow, you know?” The disappointment radiates through the phone.

“I know! And I will be there for that, because that’s really important, but I just can’t make it today.” Y/N is too embarrassed to say the reason why. Julie has amazing grades, and is insanely talented, and she might be a little jealous of that, mostly because she gets to spend extra time with Luke who Y/N has heart eyes for. But, his eyes are for someone else. Julie.

“No, she’s not coming,” she answers the muffled voice in the background. “I don’t know!” she groans. “The boys wanted me to ask you if you’re okay, which are you?” 

“Yes! I’m fine, just go rehearse, even though you guys don’t really need it, I know you’ll rock tomorrow--” Y/N gets cut off by her door swinging open.

“Y/N! Homework! Now!” her mom orders.

“I’m just telling Julie I can’t make it,” Y/N argues. “I gotta go.” 

“Oh, okay, well, we all miss you over here,” she affirms.

“Yeah, I miss you all too, but we did see each other today, so… I miss the boys.” 

Julie laughs. “I’ll tell them that, especially you know who.” Y/N can sense Julie’s smirk when she speaks. 

Y/N chokes on a bit of her saliva. “Julie! I-I have to go.” She hangs up. “Why me?” she asks whatever higher power could possibly be listening to the teenage girl. 

She plops down on her desk chair.

“What to start with?” Her eyes scan her To-Do List she’s already made, it’s not as much as she thought, but it’s definitely time consuming and very boring. Some of her teachers have already reached out to her, but she chooses to ignore their offers of help. She’s scared she’ll say something they’ll find stupid, or won’t understand. 

And so she has to skip her favorite part of the day, to do Algebra, and History and Biology, and…

“So, why couldn’t she come today?” Luke asks, tuning his guitar on the couch.

“Eh, I didn’t ask her,” Julie admits. 

“Why not?” Luke gives her a pointed look, his movements faltering.

“She would’ve told me if it was that important,” she claims. She looks off, before seeing him go back to his previous state. “Luke, you've been tuning that guitar for half an hour, I think it’s good.” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“So, Y/N really can’t come today?” Reggie asks, saddened over the news. “But, she never misses a rehearsal unless it’s family, or school related.” 

Luke finally stops, setting down his guitar. “Wait,” he starts. “Didn’t progress reports come out today?” 

Everyone looks at him weirdly. “How do you know that?” Alex questions, spinning his drumstick.

“Oh--uh.” He scratches the back of his head. “When I visited Julie at school the other day, I heard something about it.” 

Julie turns his head towards him. “Are you talking about when Y/N said something about it to Flynn? A couple feet away from us? Yeah I heard her too, because I was facing her.” She crosses her arms. “I think someone has a crush,” she teases, smiling widely.

“What?!” A subtle blush paints over his cheeks. “I don’t like Y/N like that, she’s--she’s just a good friend.”

“Oh come on!” Alex joins. “It’s so obvious, don’t think I don’t notice when you stare at her.” He sends a wink to Luke.

“Or when you talk about her,” Reggie adds. “Which is all the time.” 

“Just tell her,” Julie advises. 

“Tell her?” Luke repeats, giving her a look of disbelief. “I don’t think you’ve guys noticed, but I’m dead, and she’s very much alive.” 

“So?! Everyone knows you two are completely in love with each other, so give it a shot,” Julie urges, also knowing her friend's infatuation with the guitarist.

Luke chuckles. “She doesn’t like me, she rarely talks to me, to be honest I think she hates me.” 

“You rarely talk to her,” Julie points out. “And ‘to be honest’ I think she thinks you hate her.” Luke’s posture caves hearing Julie’s words. “Are we going to get started now?” 

Everyone nods. 

Throughout practice Luke found his mind wandering back to the previous conversations the band had. A warm feeling would build in his stomach for a movement when he would think about the fact that Y/N likes him, or at least his friends think so. “Luke!” Alex shouts, snapping Luke out of his thoughts. “Practice is over,” he informs.

"It is?!” His eyes widened when an idea popped into his mind. “Well, won’t you look at that, it is over, and I completely forgot I made plans, bye!” Luke poofs out, landing in a girly room, but has a certain vibe to it.

“Luke!” Y/N shrieks, putting a hand over her heart. “What are you doing here?” she whisper-yells.

“T-the--” he snaps his fingers. “The guys wanted someone to check in on you, and Alex is hanging out with Willie, and Reggie is Reggie so… I volunteered.” He sways back and forth against his ankles. “Sooo… How are you doing?” He strolls up to her smoothly, placing an arm on the back of her chair.

“Luke… You are a terrible liar,” she asserts. “But, if you really want to know. I’m not doing too well.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“School,” she sighs. “We got our progress reports, and I’m not doing too well.” She tries to hide the paper from Luke.

“Y/N, don’t be embarrassed, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” He plucks the paper from under her arm. His reassuring smile slowly faded. “There’s… Room for improvement?” He shrugs.

“Get out,” Y/N mutters. 

Luke’s heart plummeted. “What?” 

“I said get out,” she repeats, harshly. “I get it, I’m dumb, and I’m lazy, and I don’t do my work. I get it. So, just leave.” Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “I’m serious Luke.” Her voice cracks a little.

Guilt washed over him when he saw the effect his words take on her. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He reaches out to hug her, but he instead goes straight through her.

Y/N doesn’t notice his attempt of this action, instead boring her eyes at the paper in front of her. “Luke, I said just go.” She rubs her forehead.

He didn’t move though, he instead started looking over the paper she hadn't touched. “Twenty-three,” he answers.

“What?” she chokes out.

“The answer, it’s twenty-three.” He looks at her, a little self-conscious. “Look, just because I didn’t have the best grades, or didn’t do work, didn’t mean I was dumb, so stop telling yourself that. We’re not so different you know.” 

She scrunches her face. “How’d you get that?” she asks. “The answer to the question.”

His eyes light up when she accepts his explanation, not asking him to leave again. “So… I just did…” 

He talks through the problem, asking Y/N if she understands when her eyes widen. He noticed she does that when she’s getting confused, or is not fully processing the words. As they go through each subject, him helping her, or giving his opinion on things. She started to find herself smiling, and having fun? “Wow,” he whispers, reading a poem. “You just wrote this?” 

She nods. “Yeah, I know, it’s not that great.” 

“No! It’s really good for something you wrote in five minutes,” he compliments, rereading the poem in his head. “Who knew you were such a romantic?” he teases.

Y/N feels her cheeks warm up. “That’s actually the first time I’ve heard that.”

“So, who’d you write it about?” he asks. He partially dreaded asking the questions. He didn’t want to picture her ever describing someone that wasn’t him in such a beautiful context. “C’mon, you can tell me, what am I going to do? Tell my ghost friends.” 

Y/N giggles. “I--uh… Someone?” It comes out more as a question.

“Name?” 

“Why you want to know so bad, huh?” she blurts, with a smirk. “Why? You jealous?” She knew he wasn’t, but the thought made her whole body catch on fire.

Luke, surprised by her sudden cockiness, sends her a smirk right back. “Well, what if I am?” 

She scoffs. “Yeah, right,” she murmurs.

He tilts his head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She gives him a ‘really’ look. “Luke, c’mon…” She waits for him to say something like ‘you’re right, I’m joking’, or anything along those lines, but he just stares back with the same intensity she has.

“What do you want me to say?”

The question lingers in Y/N’s mind. I want you to say you like me. That’s what she wanted to tell him, that’s what she wanted to hear. “Nothing,” she mumbles. “Absolutely nothing.” 

He cracks a smile. “Just tell me!” After that he keeps repeating it over and over again.

“I want you to say you like me!” she shouts. 

His eyes widened, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable, he seemed in awe of the situation. “Why are you shouting?” Y/N’s mom asks, rushing in.

“Because I’ve gotten ten assignments turned in!” Y/N cheers trying to ignore Luke giving her a big smile, seriously, it’s scary how wide it is. 

“I like you too,” he whispers, her heart dropping. It’s like he couldn’t contain his little secret for any longer, but now it leaves Y/N impatient as her mom stares down at her on the bed. 

“That’s good! she assures. “Though it would’ve been better if you turned them in on time, but at least they’re in.” Y/N nods at her mom's backhanded compliment. “Anyways, dinners ready.” 

“Ah, yes.” Y/N shuts her laptop. “I forgot humans have to eat.” 

“Can I stay?” Luke asks.

“In my room,” she answers.

“You’re going to eat in your room?” her mom asks.

“Can you?” Luke perks up, hearing it. “Just say you want to finish your work, because you’re already in the groove, or something!” His eyes are pleading Y/N to stay with him, leaving her almost speechless.

“Y-yeah,” she stutters. “There’s a few more things I want to do before I call it a night, and I’m kind of in… ‘The Groove’,” she discreetly ridicules the boy next to her that’s invisible to her mom's eyes.

“Okay, just come down when you’re ready.” 

Y/N sighs of relief when she hears the door shut quietly. “So, you like me?” She was slightly breathless from the beautiful boy so close to her.

“Yeah,” he responds. His eyes didn’t meet hers though.

“You don’t seem sure,” she judges. 

His gaze locks with her. “I’m just nervous,” he reveals. “You make me really nervous. I thought you hated me just an hour ago, and now…”

She gapes at him. “I thought you hated me!” 

“That’s what Julie said,” he adds, pointing towards her.

Y/N jolts her body away from him. “You spoke about me with Julie?” As if she summoned her, Julie’s contact lights up her phone. “Hello,” she answers.

“Is Luke over there?” she asks. “Sorry! Hi, it’s just the boys were worried.” Y/N sneaks a glimpse towards Luke who can’t seem to take his eyes off of her, it’s like he’s trying to memorize every single part of her body. 

“He’s not, but I had a question for you.” Luke looks at Y/N confused as to why she lied. “Did you guys talk about anything earlier? He was acting weird, and you know with you being good friends with him, and us being the best of friends, I wanted to know.” 

“Oh my God!” she exclaims. “He was out of it the entire rehearsal after we told him you weren’t going to be there, and he was all worried, and concerned, it was adorable. Dude is so in love with you it’s insane. I mean even Reggie and Alex were talking about how he talks about you, and how he stares at you, and how he’s so invested in you. I’d say he’s obsessed.” 

Y/N lets out a victorious hum. “Good to know, well, I’ll let you know if I see him--oh wait, he’s right next to me, thanks for the info.” Y/N hangs up.

“She told you about rehearsal didn’t she?” He plays with the rings on his fingers, a nervous habit he picked up.

“Yep.” Y/N pops the ‘p’. “She said you’re obsessed with me.”

“Not true!” he argues. “Sort of…” He pouts. “Not in a creepy way though!” He tries to grab her hand, but it goes straight through. “This will be interesting.” 

“Yeah,” Y/N agrees. “But, we’ll get through it…” 

Luke then learned one thing about himself that night. He was touched-starved.

[slasherb1tch]

Hii! Thank you for opening your matchups, I enjoy reading through them! Could I please get one for stranger things? I'm a straight female, she/her and I'd prefer a male please!

Hobbies/likes - I love reading, my favorite genres are poetry, Russian lit, and mysteries! I also love true crime very much. I love learning about new things and collecting knowledge, I'm very interested in psychology, history, mythology and folklore, and fashion! I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything! I adore all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I listen to a lot of modern/indie rock and I love watching psychological thrillers and romcoms.

Personality description - It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do, I become really talkative and outgoing. I love helping out and I'm the therapist friend, people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'm smart and ambitious, I love being the best at everything I do, though I sometimes struggle with the hardwork and conviction needed to get there. I'm deathly afraid of failure and disappointing the people I love. I'm quite the hopeless romantic and I love being in love! I also daydream a lot and I can get lost in my own world for hours. I can be quite dramatic and stubborn and I tend to be withdrawn and distant at times. I get frustrated easily and I'm quietly competitive. My love languages are acts of service and words of affirmation.

Physical description - I'm 5'9 and I have long and curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. I have a fair skin tone, I'm slim and I've got full lips and slight dark circles under my eyes and I have broad shoulders. I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats and I love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down!

Placements - my mbti is infp and my enneagram is 4w3. I'm also a Taurus!

Thank you very much!! I hope you have a lovely day <3 <3

Hello!! Thank you so much for the kind words 😭♥︎!! I really hope you enjoy your matchup and thank you for the request <3!!

It was a bit difficult trying to figure out who to match you with, there were a few options I could have gone with.. I chose one and I hope you like him!!

You caught the attention of…

Alexei

This man would be entirely smitten the moment he meets you <3! Just being a couple inches taller than you, the first thing that would catch his eyes about you is your height! And I mean really… Alexei wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you. He’d be studying you from afar for a bit, memorising every trait he can about you… Before either Murray or Hopper notice him staring and make him introduce himself to you. Of course, in broken english, looking unsure of himself the entire time. (Poor boy 😭)

Once you two get closer and start spending more time together… Alexei would probably spot your Russian lit books right away, smiling to himself. The next day, his arms would be full of books for you as he waits at your door. He’d love being able to share his favourite poems and books with you, giving you a cheeky grin as he hands them over to you.

You and Alexei would be inseparable, if you want to go on an adventure, he’ll follow right behind you! You’re going to the movies? He’ll go even though he won’t understand what they’re saying all that well. Just buy him a cherry flavoured slushy and he’ll be 100% carefree.

After enough time spent with you, I’m sure he’d catch on a little to english. He’ll be proud to show you what he knows in little talks you two would have together! It’ll just keep getting better and better, although jokes might still go over his head… (He’s trying his best 🥲) Of course, since you like learning new things, he’ll be super excited to teach you Russian too! He’ll give you a giant grin each time you ask him a word, teaching you proudly.

Alexei is very much the same as you, so I think he’d understand your shyness around him when you two first meet. Once you start opening up to him, Alexei would be confident that you’re his person <3 He’d love listening to you talk about mythology or psychology, really any of your interests! Although he might not understand a few words, he’d love seeing your excitement.

If you find yourself losing motivation and getting frustrated at something, Alexei is always there to make you smile. He’s pretty good at reading body language, so when he starts to notice you feeling down, you’ll spend the day watching cartoons with him <3 Alexei giggling at stuff seen as so childish usually works like a charm.

Don’t ever worry about disappointing him, this man sees you like a literal god, you can’t do anything wrong. And if you do make a mistake? Alexei doesn’t care, he’ll give you a lil smile, his eyes squinted in joy, and tell you (most likely in russian) how much he loves you, pulling you in close to him. I can totally see you two as just lil flustered messes around each other, so whenever you compliment him or do something for him, his face will turn bright pink.

I really hope you like your matchup! Have a wonderful day <3

Enjoy~!

[hauntedwitch04]

Hi love!! Congrats on 350+ followers, here's to so many more! I was wondering if I could please get a 💑 for marauders and/or marvel, whatever you think fits better! I'm a straight female and I'd prefer a male please <33

Hobbies/likes - I love reading, my favorite genres are fantasy and poetry. I also love learning about new things and collecting knowledge, I'm very interested in psychology, history, mythology and folklore, and fashion! I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything! I adore all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I listen to a lot of modern/indie rock and I love watching psychological thrillers and romcoms.

Personality description - It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do, I become really talkative and outgoing. I love helping out and I'm the therapist friend, people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'm smart and ambitious, I love being the best at everything I do, though I sometimes struggle with the hardwork and conviction needed to get there. I'm quite the hopeless romantic and I love being in love! I also daydream a lot and I can get lost in my own world for hours. I can be quite dramatic and stubborn and I tend to be withdrawn at times. I get frustrated easily and I'm quietly competitive. My love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch.

Physical description - I'm 5'9 and I have long wavy dark brown hair and brown eyes. I have a fair skin tone, I'm slim and I've got full lips and slight dark circles under my eyes and I have broad shoulders. I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats and I love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down!

Thank you very, very much!! Congrats once again and I hope you have a lovely day 💞💞

Celebration -  My masterlist I Ask I Join the Taglist I Promts

Celebration is closed! I am late with posting requests due to school and writer's block (I know... awesome), so requests are closed. I will do a new celebration soon and use this idea again since people liked it so much!

Author's note: Hi love! Thank you so much for you request. Sorry to be this late!

I ship you with my favourite of the maraurders: REMUS LUPIN

When I say you and Remus would be perfect together, believe me you are, and no one can change my mind.

You both love to read, and you could spend hours reading poetry in silence, hand in hand in front of the fire.

He often leaves you annotated books of poems, with phrases or dedications for you, and others take it in stride because of how sweet he is with you.

You love to have cultured discussions on various topics while a background song guides your words.

Like you, he is the therapist of his group, and because of that you understand each other deeply.

Every time it is with you that he opens up, and you too with him because you deeply believe in each other.

Although you may be very stubborn, he loves you in part because of this very reason and would not change anything about you.

He loves spending the days after the full moon in your arms while watching your favorite rom-com.

The others at first were afraid you would take their Remmy away from them, but when they saw you after the first moon you were together as you nursed Remus, they realized you were the best thing that ever happened to them.

Since that time they have called you Mama, since he is the Papa of the group.

Please you are too perfect together, I demand this ship now!

[omosntn]

Suntan fic: Go for it, Kel! (Chapter 1)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Relationship: Kel/Sunny (OMORI)

Additional Tags: Fluff, High school, no spoilers, suntan

Description: Kel wants to confess to Sunny, so he confides in his closest friends for advice. With the help of his friends, will he finally muster the courage to?

Chapter 1: Wednesday (PREVIEW)

“You want to confess to Sunny?!” Basil clasped his hands across his mouth at the shock of what slipped past his lips.

“Shh!! Not so loud!” Kel hushed, passing a glance from one side of the cafeteria to the other so as to make sure a certain pink haired girl wasn’t around to hear. “What if Aubrey heard you?!” Kel shivered at the thought. Had she heard… there would be no end to the incessant teasing he would hear. He could just imagine it now… how she would poke his cheek or nudge him with her elbow, smirking at him to make a move every time they hung out with Sunny.

“Heh.. sorry! It’s just that I never thought this day would come! You’ve been telling me about how much you’ve liked him for so long, so I just think it’s sweet you’re finally making a move!” He chuckled, as he ran his hands over the leather cover of the notebook filled with all of his botany notes, setting it down on the table.

“Making a move would be nice n’ all… but how?” Kel leaned on the table with elbows, his chin in his hands. This is the first time he had ever had feelings for someone else, yet he was unable to completely capture the way Sunny made him feel in words. How could he convey all of the jumbled thoughts in his mind into something clear, something concise and something he truly wanted to say to him?

Suddenly, Basil’s eyes lit up. “Well…” he said, an undertone of restrained excitement laced with his voice. “Not only do I think you should tell him how you feel, why not make it a little bit more romantic? Like getting him a bouquet of flowers! Or maybe… getting him a box of chocolates too, like the semi-sweet ones he likes from the candy store, but in the shape of tiny little hearts! Oh! How about writing him a poem?!” At this point, Basil was standing up from his seat, his eyes sparkling as bright as stars in the sky… if you were to view them from about ten feet away.

“Woah Basil… I didn’t take you as a romantic.” He stared at the other boy in awe as Basil sat back down.

A light hue of pink dusted Basil’s cheeks, smiling as he bashedly scratched the back of his head, careful so as to not disturb the flower crown that sat atop his head. “Just a little…” he chuckled. “You’ve practically told me every single day how much you love him so I just think it would be nice to finally see you confess! Me and the rest of the gang are here for you, so don’t feel like you have to do this alone.”

Kel smiled, “I know, but hm…” he closed his eyes and tilted his head, humming as he thought. “I think we should start off with something smaller maybe?”

Basil hummed in response, then as if a light bulb appeared over his head, he smiled. “Ho-How about you walk him home today after school?” he suggested.

“But.. we always walk home together.”

Basil shook his head. “No no, you, Sunny, Mari, and Hero always walk home together.”

“So…?” he trailed off, the end hitching into a question. Kel didn’t understand what his point was.

“What day is it today?” Basil asked, his gentle voice holding the same patience it had always held for Kel.

“Wednesday…?”

“And what days do Hero and Mari have choir practice?” He asked again.

“Wednesdays and Fridays?” Kel answered, feeling as if something was supposed to click, but his brain was not picking up what Basil was putting down.

“So…” This time, Basil trailed off, hoping that Kel would understand by now.

“So…” Kel trailed off, then sighed, frustrated at himself rather than Basil for his incapability to understand. “Look Basil, I really need you to fill in the blanks for me here.”

“O-Oh, uh, sorry,” he smiled apologetically. “You guys walk home alone together on Wednesdays and Fridays, right? So why don’t you try holding his hand on the way home?”

The rest can be read here!

[recurring-polynya]

Hey this is for our Redhead's bday. Its like a fluff and angst with a happy ending. Is it possible to make a Renruki based on Hanahaki disease? Do you know about this fanfic trope? Its like a person who doesn't know or think their love is requited, will cough up petals. They can only be saved with a confession or accept that they cannot be together with their love interest. I don't want it to sound too morbid. Let me know if its possible.

Wikipedia description for better understanding:

Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. There is no set time for how long this disease lasts but it may last from 2 weeks to 3 months, in rare cases up to 18 months, until the victim dies unless the feelings are returned or the plants are surgically removed. There is also no set flower that blossoms in the lungs but it may be the enamoured’s favourite flower or favourite colour. Hanahaki can be cured through surgical removal of the plants' roots, but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient’s feelings for and memories of the enamoured. It can also be cured by the reciprocation of the victim's feelings. These feelings cannot be feelings of friendship but must be feelings of genuine love. The victim may also develop Hanahaki Disease if they believe the love to be one-sided but once the enamoured returns the feelings, they will be cured. In some literature, other symptoms can be fever, uncontrollable shaking, loss of appetite, low body temperature, and hallucinations. Even after curing, with or without surgery, there can be irreversible damage to the lungs and, although very rare, in some cases the disease cannot be cured.

Ha ha ha, of course I have heard of Hanahaki disease, my brain is 100% rotted by fanfic.

I. hate. Hanahaki disease. It is probably my #1 most hated trope, up there with every single soulmate thing that treats love like some sort of inescapable destiny and strips the characters of any agency. To me, falling in love may be more or less involuntary, but the choice of whether or not to pursue it is the very crux of romance.

In any case, I was just going to... not do this one, except that I walked around mad for half a day and then wrote this up in, like, two hours. This sounds terrible, but this is actually an ideal day for a writer! I am really happy with how it came out! Thanks for the prompt!! I mean this with absolute sincerity!

Warning: Bad language, because Renruki aren’t any happier about any of this than I am.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🌺   🌺   🌺  

“How the fuck,” asked Rukia, “did you get that into my house?”

Sitting on Byakuya’s good tea table was a heavy green glass bottle of Rukongai’s worst rotgut. And two saucers.

Sitting cross legged and cross on the other side of the table was Abarai Renji.

“I told the captain it was necessary. Sit down.”

Usually, Rukia would take being ordered around like that as an invitation to call him names, but there was something angry and serious in Renji’s tone, so she sat instead, and let Renji pour each of them a saucer of something that smelled like lamp oil. Silently, they tossed back their drinks.

“You want to tell me what this is about?” Rukia asked as Renji refilled.

Without speaking, Renji pulled a carefully folded handkerchief out of his kosode and slid it across the table.

Rukia’s hands clenched into fists.

“Go ahead,” Renji said offhandedly, sipping his sake.

She didn’t want to. She knew what it would be. But she did it anyway, reached over and flipped open the handkerchief to reveal a handful of mangled, half-rotted flower petals. Hot rage ran through her veins. “Are you going through my trash now?” she demanded.

“No, I asked the captain to,” Renji replied coolly. “I assume he had someone do it for him, but he didn’t say.”

“Fuck you,” Rukia snapped.

Renji stared at her, his eyes cold and angry. “That night we camped in Hueco Mundo. Before we caught up with Ichigo and the others. You coughed up half a camellia and a good inch of stem in your sleep. I… figured we had more pressing concerns at the time, but I asked your brother to keep an eye on you after we got home.”

Rukia took a gulp of her drink. “Well, congratulations, Detective Abarai, you cracked the case. You’re so smart that I’m sure you know how these things end, so we don’t need to discuss it.”

Renji squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them again. “It doesn’t… it doesn’t have to be a death sentence, you know?”

“It’s complicated,” Rukia grumbled. “I’m not explaining it to you, but it’s not… solvable, and I can’t… I won’t give up. Not this time.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Renji continued, his voice quieter. “There are ways to… manage it. Live with it.”

Rukia’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a disease of the soul, y’know, not the body, which is why humans don’t get it. With a strong enough will, you can keep it in check. The key, the thing that really lets it get ahold of your lungs, is when you start to lose hope.”

“You want me to live in denial, then?”

“No, not quite. But there’s some… techniques. We live a really long time, Rukia. Things may seem one way now, but… but who’s to say how they’ll be in sixty or seventy years, right? I mean, it’s not easy, but if you can imagine sort of… jarring up your feelings and packing them away for later.”

“Like pickles.”

“Yeah, like pickles.”

Rukia finished her saucer and reached for the bottle.

“Another thing that works sometimes is to try to…” Renji gestured helplessly. “Reframe it. I’m sure you’ve read poems about courtly love.”

Rukia made a face. “I fail to see how reading old-timey thirst poetry about wasting away from wanting to sleep with someone else’s wife is going to help anything.”

Renji’s face took on a pained cast. “Yeah, I guess some of them are like that. But being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back doesn’t mean your life is...meaningless. There can be something really beautiful and noble and sorta romantic in and of itself about loving with no hope of reciprocation. That you can still be of… of service to a person, even if they never notice you.”

“Renji, that’s fucking nonsense,” Rukia informed him, topping up his drink as well. “Where do you get these ideas?”

“Or you can just really absorb yourself in some goal. Be so busy you don’t have time to worry about love. Time passes quickly when--”

“Renji, just stop. I know you’re trying to help, but I’m… I’m sick and no amount of made-up wishful thinking is going to make me better.”

Renji’s face rapidly cycled through a number of emotions, like he kept coming up with things to say and then biting his tongue instead. “It’s not fucking made up, okay? People have lived with it for years, you know. Decades. Fuck, Rukia do you know selfish this is?”

“‘Selfish’?” Rukia echoed incredulously. The alcohol was starting to hit, and it made her feel unmoored, a raft floating in a sea of her own grief and anger. What did he know anyway? He was married to his job and his duty. The truest companion, the most generous soul, so free with his heart to everyone he called friend, but he didn’t know jack shit about being in love. Renji was the most transparent person in Soul Society. If he had ever fallen in love, it would have been public knowledge. Maybe his heart didn’t even work that way. What the Hell did he know?

“Yeah,” Renji spat back. “Selfish and cruel. How can you love someone-- even if they don’t love you back-- and-- and-- let yourself die from it? What kind of a monster would do that? You can hold on, Rukia. You’re so strong, I know you can. Just… just listen to me, for once. I can help you.”

Rukia felt her eyes burning, so she grabbed the bottle and took a long drink from it until her whole face burned. “Fuck. Off,” she replied, slamming it down on the table.

“I won’t,” Renji growled. “Ichigo cares a lot for you and it would kill him, Rukia, you hear me? You can’t do this to him, or-- or the rest of us, either.”

Rukia stared at Renji uncomprehendingly. The room was starting to swim. “What the fuck does any of this have to do with Ichigo?” She suddenly felt very tired, so she folded her arms and put her head down on them. “You fucking dumbass.”

[karmasuna]

Bakugou fluff is always a must! Can I request a thing where the Bakusquad is hanging out and they squad knows of Bakugou's crush on the reader so they're kind of coaxing not so subtly information out. Reader admits they've never been on a date or confessed to. Bakugou gets more than enough information to work with

sure thing i gotchu!

wordcount:1045

“Bro, you gotta man up and confess to her soon,” Kirishima tells Kaminari, the rest of you watching in amusement as the latter laid on the floor of Bakugo’s room and sighed dramatically.

“Yeah, he’s right,” you chime in, nudging the boy on the floor gently with your foot. “C’mon, we’ll help you plan it out. You already know you’re not going to be rejected, so why are you chickening out now?”

The blonde boy on the floor doesn’t give you a response, merely rolling over as pressing his face down onto the floor. “Gross,” Mina cringes as he continues to wriggle around like a worm, “you’ve been doing this for days now, seriously. I feel so bad for Kyoka, honestly, why does she even like you?” You nudge the pink girl, giving her a glare and telling her to stop deflating his ego. 

“Why are you guys even in my room,” Bakugo growls from his desk, frustration evident in his voice as he continued to angrily do his homework despite the racket you were making, “If you don’t get off my fucking floor right now, I’m gonna go and tell shitty Earphones how much of a wimp you’re being this instant.” 

Denki immediately bolts upright, begging him not to ruin his image in Jirou’s mind as Bakugo ignores him. 

“Okay!” you say cheerily, sitting down on the floor and dragging the rest of your friends to form a circle except for Bakugo, who had gone back to doing his schoolwork. “Let’s make a plan to help Pikachu confess to Kyoka!”

The group stares at you eagerly, waiting for you to say more. When you don’t continue, Sero speaks up. “None of us guys have any successful romantic experience, so it’s just going to be you and Mina. I mean, we don’t even know how girls like being confessed to or anything.”

“Well that’s too bad, since I have exactly zero romantic knowledge or experience too, so there’s only Mina left.” You pout, turning to the pink girl hopelessly and hoping she would say something helpful.

“Y/N, you’ve never dated anyone?” she instead gasps in surprise as you shake your head at her. “Someone’s at least had to have confessed to you!”

“Nah, I’m really not that likable,” you reply easily. Kirishima throws a glance in Bakugo’s direction, but you don’t say anything since the blonde didn’t seem to notice. 

The room falls into silence as you all try to think of ways to help your lovesick friend, the only sound heard being the hard scribble of Bakugo’s pen. 

“You know what, why does it even matter if we’ve had experience or not?” the pink girl suddenly declares. “You’re still a girl, Y/N, you’ve got to have some kind of an ideal confession or something. And don’t you dare say you’ve never thought about it,” she shoots you down as you open your mouth to try and defend yourself, “every girl has.” 

“I’m not Jirou though, she doesn’t have the same taste as me anyways,” you insist, not wanting your friends to know about your fantasies and make fun of you. 

“It’s fine, let's forget about Kaminari for now and focus on you,” Kirishima insists, not-so-subtly trying to pry information about you about your non-existent love life. 

“Yeah, what would you want the love of your life to confess to you?” Sero wiggles his eyebrows at you as you swat at him playfully.

“Not telling you,” you say, sticking your tongue out at him.

“What, am I suddenly irrelevant now?” Kaminari pipes up. No one pays him any mind as they continue to bombard you with questions.

“Free lunch for a week for you to give us a detailed description of your ideal confession.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the redhead’s offer. “Gee, why are you suddenly so desperate to know?” you say teasingly, but nevertheless you still lean back and consider his question seriously.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you think out loud, “I mean, it wouldn’t really matter to me as long as it was someone I genuinely liked and they liked me back, but I guess it would be nice if there weren’t too many people around, and maybe stuffed animals and homemade food, something that isn’t too fancy.”

“But like where would you want it to be and how? Like I dunno, would you want him to like serenade you or write you a poem or something?” the redhead presses further.

“Sheesh, are you planning to confess to me or something? That’s kinda overkill though, I’d be more than happy with just a plain old confession.” 

Kirishima nods in approval, seeming to ponder your answers. 

At that moment, all of your phones chime out in unison, and you grab yours to check the incoming message in your class group. “Sato made extra cake he wants us to try out!” you cheer, hurriedly getting to your feet to go down to the common room. “I’m gonna go get my share before Ochaco inhales the entire thing, you guys better hurry too!”

And with that, you were gone. The entire group looks at Bakugo, who had put down his pen and was looking at them from his desk, albeit looking a bit flustered. 

“You heard me bro, you owe me lunch money for a week,” Kirishima says, getting up and throwing an arm around the blonde’s shoulders as the latter scowls.

“Did you get that all written down yet?” Mina teases. 

“You know, that just cost me my own relationship with Jirou, so you better make good use of the intel,” Kaminari complains. 

Bakugo merely grunts in response, but he doesn’t lash out or respond to their teasing. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but there’s no edge to his words and the flush in his cheeks didn’t help either.

“You go get your girl, Bakubro!” Kirishima cheers, and the others do the same. 

“Get your asses off the floor, I’m cooking you extras dinner tonight since you obviously don’t know how to eat healthy.” 

Sero and Mina cheer in excitement, and Kaminari nudges Bakugo in the side eagerly. “Aww, you’re such a softie!”

“Watch it, Sparky. One more word and you’re not getting any food.” 

“I take it back I’m sorry! Please I need food!”

[pentanguine]

Favorite books of 2020

So....about five months ago now, I drafted a list of my favorite books of 2020, and then I, uh, didn’t finish it. It languished in a draft gathering dust and I forgot that it existed.

But now it’s done! It’s hideously late and also out of date, because I’d change many of the rankings now (see below), but I decided to keep them in the original order to reflect how I felt when I actually meant to post this.

Gideon the Ninth- What can I say about this book that hasn’t already been said? It’s like nothing else I’ve read before, in the most unabashed, off-the-walls, grandiose way possible. It’s incredibly complex, well-written, goth, and full of memes. There are, indeed, lesbian necromancers in space.

Harrow the Ninth- I read this 500+ page book in one day and didn’t notice an earthquake while doing so, if you consider that an endorsement. There’s so much going on here it almost feels like it shouldn’t work, and yet it does, brilliantly—it’s so intricately plotted you’ll want to reread it immediately because there’s no way to pick up on everything your first time through.

The Starless Sea- This is just a magical delight of a story, with prose that flows like honey: slow, sweet, and delicious. The story unfolds like a series of wonders nested one inside the other, with each section adding another layer of whimsy and metafiction. It’s half a dream, and half a maze.

Young Miles (The Warrior’s Apprentice/The Vor Game)- The Miles books (the early ones, especially) are wild and unrepentant romps through outer space, and reading them was one of the highlights of 2020 for me. When I finished the Young Miles omnibus, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken such pure delight in a book. Even the heavier, more thoughtful moments were part of a well-told, enjoyable story.

The Stone Sky- Speaking of heavy and thoughtful books…The Broken Earth Trilogy is definitely not a light undertaking, but it’s just a masterpiece of world- and character-building. The Stone Sky is the final installment, and it does not pull a single punch in delivering what the previous books have been building towards.

This Is How You Lose the Time War- I keep instinctively wanting to call this a novel in verse, although I think it’s technically an epistolary novel with prose-poem tendencies. In any case, the writing is lovely—lush, vivid, sensual, romantic. I recommend reading this one with your poetry glasses on.

Cordelia’s Honor (Shards of Honor/Barrayar)- I tried to limit myself to one book per author on this list, but I didn’t succeed here. I loved the Vorkosigan saga too much, and I had to include the omnibus about Miles’s mother, Cordelia, whose life and personality could easily be the focus of another half-dozen volumes. (And if you’re looking for a well-developed m/f romance, you’ve found it here)

An Unkindness of Ghosts- I think this is the book that kicked off my sudden interest in sci-fi last year. It’s dark and beautiful, definitely character-driven, and everyone is truly strange in ways that protagonists rarely get to be. It’s also got one of the loveliest, most satisfying endings I can imagine.  

Code Name Verity- An incredibly intense YA book that delves deep into one of my favorite fictional themes, Morality. It’s a rollicking spy adventure novel that focuses on a close friendship rather than romance (although you can read it as sapphic if you want), with descriptions of flying over England at sunset that made my heart ache.

The Raven Tower- I enjoyed this story for reasons probably particular to me—I like long digressions into abstract questions like “How do we exert power over the world?” and “Where does the meaning of words exist?”, and entire sections of The Raven Tower are devoted to the inner meditations of a very contemplative rock. It’s also a retelling of Hamlet, if that’s more your speed.

Network Effect (and Murderbot novellas)- I’m going to quote my immediately-after-finishing review: “Murderbot always gives me feels. I would love to give a more literary summary, but I’m still overwhelmed by the tentative vulnerability of two bots being best friends and watching TV together after [redacted].” The first Murderbot novel definitely did not disappoint.

The Monster of Elendhaven- Decadent, blood-soaked, and morally depraved, it’s kind of like The Picture of Dorian Gray by way of Hannibal (NBC), with probable influences from a dozen other macabre works and no restraint whatsoever. Reading it felt very self-indulgently delightful.

Before Mars- A deliciously unsettling sci-fi thriller with a refreshingly blunt, unsentimental female protagonist. Also definitely an …interesting book to read at the end of March 2020, but explaining why would definitely be a spoiler. Suffice it to say that the book goes dark places not advertised on the tin, and it made me cry.

Orange World- Karen Russell is one of those writers who make you wonder “how did they come up with this?” Every one of her stories is a totally original marriage between two wildly different concepts (like a Bog Maiden and high school romance, or new motherhood and the devil), and they’re a nice blend of literary and fantasy that I love.

Something That May Shock and Discredit You- It’s so hard to rank this one, because its two primary concerns are Christianity and transness, one of which means very little to me and one of which is breathtakingly important. I couldn’t justify putting it any lower, because it made me feel an ungodly number of feelings, but I couldn’t really justify putting it higher when a solid third of the book went right over my head.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January- A truly wondrous novel, one that fully immerses you in the delight of storytelling and imagination, and the power of escaping to other worlds. It’s very much in the tradition of “books that pay tribute to the love of books,” and an homage to a hundred portal fantasies before it.

Braiding Sweetgrass- I’ve got such a fondness for nature writing that doesn’t even try to be scientifically detached, and instead leaves you with the feeling that the trees and fields around you are bustling with (nonhuman) people.* Kimmerer’s writing is steeped in indigenous ways of knowing, and emphasizes the respect and reciprocity we can hold for the natural world. It’s lovely writing, and I can’t recommend the book highly enough.

Call Down the Hawk- Full of all the ingredients you expect from a Maggie Stiefvater book: fast cars, ancient magic, questions of art and truth, and borderline overuse of the word “cunning.” Every time I read one of her books I want to start taking notes, because she’s got such a signature style that’s both poetic and readable.  

The Unspoken Name- For some reason I wasn’t much into epic fantasy last year, but I’m glad I gave this one a try. I love morally grey characters, of which there are plenty, and the plot took a number of refreshing twists and turns.  

A Memory Called Empire- Not a fast-moving read, but perfect if you like your sci-fi novels poetic, complex, and intellectual. The worldbuilding is incredibly immersive, in a way that reminded me a bit of Ursula K. Le Guin, and I remember this stuck with me for weeks after I finished it.

*Let me be a nerdy weirdo for a second: Most of the time Kimmerer is writing about New England, an area I’m not really familiar with, but “The Sound of Silverbells” is set on a mountain somewhere in the South, and I adored it. Suddenly she was writing about dogwoods and redbuds and poplars, and I was sitting there going “!!! Those are my friends! My friends are in a book!”

Changes I’d make now:

Bump The Starless Sea down a couple pegs, maybe to #6

Swap out Cordelia’s Honor and Young Miles

Bump The Raven Tower way down to #16 and bump A Memory Called Empire a few spots higher, maybe to #17

Braiding Sweetgrass can go up where The Raven Tower was