#also I hope I got it right because well I am not fluent

[sevynchaos]

fede: ‪“and I think I have never told you this, and I am not sure if I can do it in person but I want you to know that I love you”‬

toni: ‪“my dear fede, you know how important you are to me, cause I love you as a player and a person”‬

[awearywritersworld]

i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you

sukuna x reader summary: you and sukuna go out for a late night meal. gojo finds out about your... relationship. sukuna is forced to take care of you when you come home drunk. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. fluff. lots of banter. cursing. jealous/protective!sukuna. gojo being a flirt. aged up!yuuji. features a teeny bit of yuuji x reader. drinking and drunk!reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i think i like how this turned out! also, the first two sections could def be read as a fluffy lil stand alone. idc whats happening in the canonverse, sukunas just a tsundere who adores us very much<3 series masterlist // masterlist

"maybe if you stare long enough, food will magically appear," sukuna calls to you from the kitchen table.

"this is no joking matter," you scold from your place in front of the fridge. "i'm starving."

"well, here's an absurd idea— let's go eat."

you turn toward him, finally closing the fridge, and tilt your head to the side. "you eat?"

"of course." he leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "i typically prefer babies, but hell, i'd even go for an old man right now. i'm famished."

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. he lets the panic simmer on your face for a few more cruel moments. "i'm kidding, idiot. i eat food, same as you."

"i knew that," you assert. the way your shoulders sag in relief tells him otherwise.

"right," he smirks. after standing up, he grabs your purse and tosses it in your direction. "where to? you're buying."

with only so many places open at midnight, you begin your journey to a 24 hour ramen shop.

you've hardly interacted with sukuna outside of your apartment, so this is certainly an experience you didn't anticipate. and in fact, you're shocked at how normal it feels— almost as if it's a date.

as you walk down the street, people eye him suspiciously because of the dark lines they assume are tattoos. it doesn't bother you though, nor does the lateness of the hour. you know that you're safe because you're with him.

your hands keep brushing against one another's, and you're hoping that he'll eventually take a hint and reach for yours. he doesn't (i mean come on, do you even know who you're dealing with?).

he does at least pick up on your pouty expression with impressive ease. "what now?"

"nothing," you huff.

"don't be a brat."

you sigh dramatically. "you're supposed to hold my hand."

"sure princess," he says condescendingly, lacing his fingers through yours. "maybe use your words next time like a big girl."

he doesn't fail to notice the ensuing skip in your step, and he kicks himself for regarding it as cute.

when you arrive at the ramen shop, sukuna orders no less than three bowls, which earns him a glare once the waitress walks away.

"when i agreed to pay, i didn't know what a glutton you are."

"oh yeah? cause i'm just the picture of temperance any other time?"

you scoff. "well you've got me there."

a sly smirk settles onto his face before he speaks again. "maybe one day you'll learn how greedy i am when it comes to the things i've deemed pleasurable."

you choke on the water you'd just brought to your lips, your face heating up as if it'd been bathed by fire.

wiping at your mouth, you try your best to recover quickly. "whatever, you hellion. as long as that doesn't involve a fourth bowl of ramen."

you're no more than 10 steps away from the shop when you hold out your hand to him. "ahem."

he grabs it roughly and not without rolling his eyes.

"what?" you ask innocently. "that was a word."

"hardly," he jeers. "for as much as you read, i'd expect you to be more fluent than a child."

"and at 1000 years old, i'd expect you to be more charming than a teenage boy, but i guess we're both making concessions."

"see, this is the part that puzzles me. you never seem to have trouble with your words when you're being insolent."

"maybe it's a sign," you begin whimsically. "the universe decided you need to be taken down a peg."

"ah, yes. you as the executor of the universe's will. i don't know why i couldn't see it before."

you giggle, rather delighted that he's elected to play along with your quips. there's something that feels so warm and pleasant about it.

as you wonder if he feels it too, your hand tightens around his.

you're not quite ready to head back to your apartment just yet, because you're scared you'll lose the atmosphere surrounding the two of you. in truth, it's a bit intoxicating.

the perfect opportunity arises when you spot a small park up ahead. lights are strung around the trees, all of which are situated around a small fountain.

"we should stop at that park!" you hardly finish speaking before you take off in that direction, tugging him along behind you.

after you plop down on the fountain's ledge, sukuna takes his place beside you.

"let's sit here for a little while."

he doesn't respond and you take his silence as agreement. he's not really one to stifle his grievances.

as the minutes pass, the rush of the fountain is the only noise that fills the air, while you gaze at the trees with a serene expression.

sukuna, however, is looking at you. the only care he has for the trees is the way their lights reflect in your eyes. otherwise, he's fully occupied by the curve of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

"isn't this pretty?" you finally ask.

"it's pretty," he agrees, even when such a soft word feels foreign on his tongue.

his eyes still haven't left you, and you seem to be oblivious to this fact until he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the back of fingers.

when your gaze lands on him, the fondness written all over his face catches you off guard and you realize how close the both of you are. without really thinking about it, you lean into his touch.

"very pretty," he repeats lowly, as if he's talking to himself.

your heart lurches once in your chest, then hammers away at your ribcage without respite. he leans toward you a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief second.

truthfully, sukuna has never felt the way he does in this moment. it's a sincere sort of desire. he doesn't want the mindless devotion he once thirsted for from his followers. and he doesn't want the sex he used to crave from his concubines.

no. he just wants you— in whatever capacity you're willing to have him.

the way he's looking at you is just too much. there's a dull thudding in your ears and you swear your thoughts are moving at a million miles a minute.

so naturally, you blurt out the first thing you can manage. "we should take a selfie!"

his face shifts from whatever that expression was to one of confusion. "take a selfie?"

some twisted mix of relief and disappointment crashes through you.

"yeah, a selfie. a picture together. ya know, since the park is so pretty," you ramble.

he pulls away from you. not all the way, but enough that it gives you space to finally breath. he chuckles and it doesn't sound lofty like it so often does. in fact, he seems genuinely amused by you.

"a selfie," he deliberates. "that sounds great, but to the best of my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over."

and just like that, your dynamic feels like it did during your walk from the ramen shop to the park— comfortable and fun.

"well i guess you would be one of the first to know."

ignoring his protests, you take out your phone and hold it far enough away that the camera captures both of your faces. you can see on the screen that he's put on an expression of complete boredom.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your elbow. "you look like you hate me."

the corner of his mouth curves upward. "that's because i do."

you think back on the way he was gazing at you just moments ago and laugh. "you're so full of shit."

then, without warning, you press a kiss to his cheek and click the button.

you decide that his vague look of contented surprise will just have to do.

when you and yuuji walk into the bar, you immediately spot one of the people you're there to meet. he's sitting at a hightop by himself, his snow white hair pretty hard to miss.

you tap his shoulder and his face breaks out into a grin. he slides out of the barstool. "if it isn't my favorite civilian!"

as he pulls you into a hug, you wonder if he's ever going to get tired of that joke. "if it isn't my favorite old man."

"35 is not old," he argues, moving to greet yuuji. "i'm still in the summer of my life, thank you very much!"

"gojo you're 36," the pink haired man remarks.

"gah! such betrayal, yuuji!" he presses his hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. "now i'm going to need another round."

"i'll go and get drinks for all of us," you offer. "you two stay here so no one takes the table."

before either of them can respond, you turn and begin making your way through the crowd. you don't hear gojo when he calls out, "but darling! i should go with you!"

he takes a step in your direction, but stops when sukuna's mouth appears on yuuji's cheek. "you certainly should not, you insufferable half wit."

"relax, dude. he flirts with literally everyone," yuuji informs him.

gojo scoffs. "i am right here—"

"as if that makes it better?" sukuna barks. "she isn't some toy to be played with."

"of course she isn't! you can't honestly think i'd believe otherwise."

gojo is left forgotten for a moment as the other two bicker, so he interjects once there's a lull in the conversation. "do either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?"

yuuji turns toward him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment on his face once he realizes that gojo is, in fact, still standing there.

his eyebrows are raised above his sunglasses and it's clear he is inappropriately amused by the situation (what else is new?). he moves to sit across from the younger man, looking at him expectantly.

having no way to talk himself out of this, yuuji relays the recent events regarding you and sukuna, sparing some of the finer details. gojo's face doesn't really betray much emotion throughout the story, though he does look thoughtful by the end of it.

leaning forward, he crosses his arms on top of the table. "maybe your feelings for her are influencing his own, forcing a sort of bond between them?"

"i don't think so," yuuji contends honestly. "other than her, you're the person i admire and respect the most, but he thinks—"

"that you are perhaps the most imbecilic rampallion i've ever had the displeasure of coming across."

gojo jerks back, as if the insult had hit him squarely in the jaw. the look of giddiness from yuuji's compliment, followed by the shift to indignation at sukuna's insult is almost comical.

he stretches his neck forward, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth as if it'd keep sukuna from hearing. "what'd he just call me?"

yuuji shrugs. "beats me, but i don't think he was singing your praises."

"i see your point." gojo pauses, glancing over his shoulder. you're approaching the table, so he turns back to yuuji and quickly adds, "we'll talk more about this another time, but for now, keep this between us."

a few moments later, you appear in front of them and exclaim, "look who i found!"

megumi and inumaki situate themselves around the table too, offering their greetings. you slide yuuji and gojo their drinks, both of which are filled to the brim of the glass. "now then gentlemen, shall we?"

when gojo teleports you and yuuji back to your apartment that night, it takes everything in you to keep from yakking all over your carpet.

"ta ta, hooligans!"

you turn to request that he never do that again, but he's already gone. taking one step forward, you promptly fall on your ass in the entryway with an unforgiving thud. yuuji staggers toward the couch, making it there just in time to face plant into the cushions.

looking down toward your shoes, you're dismayed to find that each one appears to have two sets of laces. you're fumbling with them determinedly when someone crouches down in front of you, their elbows resting on their thighs.

he doesn't say a word. brushing your hands away, he unties your shoes and carefully pulls them off your feet. you're lifted from the floor before you can register the arm that's looped under your knees or the other that's securely around your back.

"careful," you hiccup, your head falling into the crook of his neck. "'m gunna p-puke."

"i'd rather you didn't."

you groan. "s'not like i 'ave a choice in the matter."

he hums. "how much did you drink?"

"dunno. sss'much. nobara—" you hiccup again. "nobara n' maki made me."

he chuckles, placing you down on what you figure is your bed. "right, i'm sure you had no choice in the matter."

"tha's correct, yes."

unbuttoning your jeans, he tugs upward on your belt loops. "lift."

you do as he says, lifting your hips from the bed so he can slide your jeans off your legs. he knows you won't remember this— hell, your eyes are already closed— but he looks away as he does it anyway.

pulling your phone from your pocket and putting it on the charger, your pants are discarded off to the side. he only turns his head back in your direction once he's pulled the blankets up over your body.

"tuck me in?" you request.

sitting down on the bed beside you, he does so without protest.

he stares at you for a little while, worried about how poorly you're probably going to feel in the morning. he presses a kiss to your forehead, intending to get up and grab a water bottle for your nightstand.

instead, his body freezes when he hears you mumble, "i love you s'much."

his heart clenches so painfully, he honestly considers ripping it from his chest— it would probably be less agonizing.

but a thought that makes him feel like a fool occurs to him. of course it's not him that you love. "i'm not yuuji."

"well, duuuhhh. you're s'kuna." you're peering up at him through tired, hazy eyes. it's the first time you've ever seen him look bewildered, so a small giggle erupts from your throat. "s'okay. you don't 'ave t'say it back."

your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out before he even thinks to respond. all at once, it's as if his head is empty and as if it's about to explode.

love?

what does he know about love? it's a sentiment he's cursed for so long, but sitting here beside you, he can't quite seem to remember why. one thing he is sure of, however, is that there's never been a thing in the world he's loved.

suddenly, he's struck with remembrance of a quote from jane eyre you had emphasized with messy underlines:

"after a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you. you are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. i am bound to you with a strong attachment. i think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

rochester says it as he begs jane to stay at thornfield with him, an act sukuna had previously regarded as ridiculous, but is that still the case?

were you to ever scorn him, would he fall to his knees and plead with you to change your mind? or if you were in danger of dying, would he drag himself to a shrine and pray to the gods he doesn't believe in?

is that what love is?

could he stand to be apart from you? are you special to him? does anything else in the world compare to you? does he seek out your company? is he consumed by you? can he know himself without knowing you?

does the definition of love lie in those questions?

sukuna hopes not, because he's terrified of the answers. being in love is not his way, nor is it in his nature.

he buries his face in his hands as realization settles into his bones. it feels as if they're splintering beneath the pressure, trying resentfully to stave it off.

he transcends any imaginable scale of power. he's bled entire villages dry, he's commandeered death, he's the king of curses.

so why now? and why you? is it divine retribution? a sick sort of joke that even he couldn't have dreamed up?

gods, you were right. the universe has sent you to carry out its will and he's completely powerless to stop it.

the worst part of it all? he doesn't want to.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @thepup356 @risuola *users in bold could not be tagged

[eclipseberrycake]

Hear Me Out (Sprout x HOH! Reader)

AN: So, fun fact, I am ALSO Hard of Hearing (HOH), however it's not to the point it's been impacting my life to the point of intervention. That being said, I don't know sign, but I'm trying to learn! So I'm sorry if this isn't very accurate, I promise I'm trying to be as respectful as possible!

Also, Masterlist has been updated!

This is a request.

☁ I'm tryna think of a role good for a HOH toon, and yk what I think? Distractor or survivalist. Maybe even Extractor.

☁ Distractor because like airhorns won't affect you, but then you can't hear when Goob or Scraps snaps. ACTUALLY NVM-

☁ You're getting the RAW thought process rn, hope you all enjoy it. My beta reader is DEAD. Cringe is DEAD. EMBRACE LIFE RAHHH

☁ Anyway, EX-distractor Reader! Maybe they USED to be a distractor, but it got to the point where it just wasn't feasible anymore, so the reader instead took up a survivalist role/back-up distractor.

☁ It would be really cool to think that their ability is kind of like SONAR or like...echolocation lol, where they can use an ability to work around their hearing loss. Like they can locate the twisteds using the vibration of their steps and uses as a guide.

☁ If that makes sense? So they can't see through walls, per say, but they can tell because an Exclamation point pops up because a twisted is walking right there, but you can't hear it. Just sense it.

☁ like okay spidey sense, pop off queen.

☁ Anyway, now that the intro is there. SPROUT. Sprout my boy. How I wish to put you in a blender and drink you. /pos

☁ So my partial headcanon is that after being returned, he's partially blind on his left side, hence why he becomes right dominant. So he understands having something effect your day to day life.

☁ As a main, I imagine he had to know sign, so he's already fluent in it! When you sign to him the first time, a simple wave and spelling of your name, you're startled when he returns the action.

☁ Even if you don't know sign, he's patient and willing to teach you! in the meantime, he writes with his fingers on the palm of your hand. Letter by letter, he writes silly little secret messages that make you flush.

☁ Y'all cute as hell.

☁ On runs, he keeps his eyes peeled for you at all times. Since leaving the distractor way of life, he sticks so close to you. Like he's probably saved your ass more times than you can count and you don't even know because you aren't thinking of it at the time and can't hear him!

☁ But it all plays out because you know how many times you save him because they sneak up on his right side?

☁ You guys also sign to each other all the time after he discovers your fluent/ teaches you. Across rooms, you both notice like Shrimpo doing something and he's like "D-I-D U S-E-E T-H-A-T" and you're tying not to giggle as you respond "U S-H-O-U-L-D F-I-L-M" for preparation on what is bound to be peak comedy.

☁ Additionally, it's a very effective method of communicating which twisteds are on the floor. A simple " P-O-P" or "B-O-X" goes a long way, especially if you're playing backup until the main distractor can collect the other twisted.

☁ As someone who's a bit HOH, idk about y'all, but I get so frustrated with myself sometimes, because people need to repeat themselves like six times and I still don't understand. So I imagine Sprout is very aware of that too. He takes time to speak slowly if you can handle it, or he'll sign, it makes no real difference to me.

☁ When others are being assholes about it, he'll step in and diffuse the situation, especially if he sees you becoming increasingly frustrated. He understands the some of the other toons have...less patience than others when it comes to things like communicating in a way that helps you or others.

☁ Sometimes you probably feel like you're being left out just a bit as well. For instance, when others are complaining about Fin's puns, you probably feel left out since there's no direct translation to some of them so the joke is lost by the time it's explained.

☁ Sprout does not care. He will go through it, letter by letter if needed, just to see you smile, even if it's smile. He loathes the puns, don't get him wrong, but he knows you like being included with the rest of them.

☁ If you all are watching something, he is adamant that subtitles are an absolute must. He will not take no for an answer.

☁ I've established fairly well that Sprout is a protective guy. This does not end after the runs. Not at all. It's the little things that he takes especially good eyes on, like subtitles and keeping notebooks in every room for those not fluent in sign to communicate with you, just to ensure your comfort above all else.

☁ On runs, he's never more than a room away from you. He's got the stamina to play distractor for a while, so if it means keeping you safe, he'll do it.

☁ ughhh im running out of ideas im so sorry

☁ When off runs, Sprout kinda reminds me of a tired dad especially with like Yatta and Toodles. They run around and have fun, but it's hard when they're running around you and you can't hear them and they nearly smoke ya.

☁ He's always reminding people to keep a berth until you notice them. If they don't head his warning, he's not above scruffing them and dragging them in the opposite direction. Like if Finn and Shrimpo are going at it, he'll literally drag them away and drop them to continue their fighting before walking away.

☁ If he's not around, you better believe Cosmo is his second in command. You all thought this would be a Roo post without mentions of cosmo? HA.

☁ Cosmo is always there if Sprout is not. If you get hit, Cosmo is handing you a cookie, even if Sprout is literally heading your way. Like Cosmo knows how much you mean to Sprout, so you mean a lot to him. I don't think his hearing is all to good either (Especially since it takes Cosmos 20 fucking minutes to come grab a fucking med-), so he's a good confidant if you think Sprout needs a break. He's also fluent so he's a great translator!

☁ Especially if Sprout is scolding someone for being a dumbass and isn't thinking about signing. Cosmo's right there with a cheeky little grin, interpreting for you.

☁ That being said, Sprout does the same thing. If someone's arguing in the elevator, he's right beside you, keeping up with their yells so you can follow along. It's honestly hilarious is they say something below the belt and Sprout pauses and is just :O before recovering and signing it to you and you're just :OOO thirty seconds later.

☁ All in all, Sprout is a lovely gentleman all around. None of this is extra to him, it's all just part of loving you. And if it's about you, he'll do it every time, no questions asked.

[blueesnow]

Ichinose Tokiya's Birthday (Year 1) Voicelines Translation.

-You can look at it again on the Event Log, Mini-Event section (for the other boys messages to him) and Talk section (for a one-on-one conversation with you and him) in Idol Page.

-Also the translations might not be fully accurate since I'm not that fluent on jp/en, so if i ever made a mistake do correct me🙏

<You (Player)> Tokiya: Thank you so much for the celebration. I don't want to get too excited or carried away just because it's my birthday and all but… Tokiya: Since it is my birthday, I'd love to do things that I like for today. …What is it, you ask, of course it means that I want to spend times together with you just the two of us.

<Otoya> Otoya: Happy Birthday! I feel like I could always do my best at so many things because Tokiya's right here beside me! Thank you! Tokiya: You're awfully honest, aren't you? Well then, let me also say something too. You are and will always be my eternal rival.

<Masato> Masato: Happy Birthday. I don't know if it's because Ichinose shares the same hobbies as I am, but we ended up talking a lot together, don't we? I hope we can continue to become good friends. Tokiya: I'm happy to hear that. Likewise, I also enjoy spending time with you too, Hijirikawa-san. Thank you so much.

<Natsuki> Natsuki: Happy Birthday! I hope to hear more of your wonderful and dazzling song in the future, Tokiya-kun. Tokiya: Thank you very much. I believe it's thanks to Shinomiya-san's natural talent that helps me rise to the top as well.

<Ren> Ren: Icchi, Happy Birthday. Don't you think it's fine for you to relax for a bit and just enjoy yourself for today? Tokiya: Oh my, I'm thankful for the advice. Now then, would you mind accompanying me to go for a meal? With mostly vegetable main dishes.

<Syo> Syo: Happy Birthday! Tokiya, I've always been impressed and amazed with how much of a perfectionist you are. Tokiya: My goal is always to aim for the highest place after all. But thank you. I'll be relying on your performance as well, Syo.

<Cecil> Cecil: Happy Birthday. To me, Tokiya is a very reliable person. Thank you for everything. Tokiya: Likewise, Aijima-san's honest and courageous personality is very admirable, and I often feel like I should learn more from you. Let's continue to do our best together, shall we.

<Reiji> Reiji: Happy Birthday, Tokki☆ If you ever had a time when you want to be spoiled by someone, then you're very welcome to go to Rei-chan~☆ Tokiya: Thank you for the offer. Although I don't know if I will ever have such an opportunity like that, but I appreciate the sentiments behind.

<Ai> Ai: Happy Birthday, Tokiya. Although you always look serious but sometimes you also have a childish side as well, I think it's good though. Tokiya: Is that so…? But if Mikaze-san said so, then I'm sure it's a compliment, isn't it. Thank you very much.

<Ranmaru> Ranmaru: Happy Birthday, Tokiya. Go on and continue to sing a great song. That's the thing that you're supposed to do. Tokiya: Thank you for your kind words. I'd be happy if there'll be more chances where we could talk about music again together.

<Camus> Camus: Ichinose, I heard that today is your birthday. I got a book that suits you. Let me know what you think about it after you're done reading it. Tokiya: This sounds very promising… I can't wait until I get off work to read it.

<Kira> Kira: Happy…Birthday. Liking vegetables…is a good thing. I want to have…a balanced diet. Tokiya: I agree. I'm happy to hear that we have similar tastes in food. Thank for you the birthday wish.

<Eiichi> Eiichi: Looks like it's your birthday today, Happy Birthday. Although you might look calm on the outside, but deep down you're actually hiding such a burning passion inside…I think it's very good. Tokiya: Thank you for your kind words. But aren't we all the same? Ah no, looking back at it again, I think you are indeed very passionate.

<Nagi> Nagi: So it's your birthday today, Happy Birthday☆ Nagi's special information! Do you want to hear more about a healthy cake~? Tokiya: To think that you know I pay a lot of attention on my food, thank you very much. …Yes, I'd be glad if you could tell me.

<Eiji> Eiji: Happy Birthday. Can you please tell me your recommendation on some singing practices next time? I'd like to get more closer to your level. Tokiya: Of course I don't mind telling you. But don't forget that it's not only just you, I also want to learn more from your examples too.

<Van> Van: Happy Birthday! To think that you're so calm and cool even on a day like this, talk about a manly guy. I think you have quite a lot of attractive charms! Tokiya: I'm very grateful to know that's the way how you describe me. I mean that's the ideal image that I'm aiming for after all.

<Yamato> Yamato: Happy Birthday. Your dance at the other day was really amazing. The way you used your muscles is perfect. Tokiya: Thank you for the compliment. It was all thanks to the training that we had together. I'm very grateful for it.

<Shion> Shion: Blessings on the day of your birth. I heard that your hobby is reading. I'd like to listen carefully to the words that you'd weave… Tokiya: Thank you very much. You use such a beautiful Japanese language, I feel like we could get along well.

[dwreader]

Interview with the Vampire Episode 2 Podcast Transcript

Special Guests: Sam Reid and Jewelle Gomez

"Being a vampire is hard, its very difficult to endure and exist forever basically and you need to have quite a lot of strength and internal power to endure and Lestat recognizes that in Louis. When he sees him on the street and thinks that very very very beautiful man just pulled a knife on his brother in the middle of the street to look powerful to save his own skin and he has enough strength to do that and Lestat thinks this guy has enough strength to endure. And he's also got the hots for him really badly..." -Sam Reid

Sam Reid Interview

N: Sam Reid, thank you so much.

S: Thank you for having me.

N: Don't you be nice, I'm coming in here and I'm mad at you. My question is this- how dare you?

S: What are you referring to exactly?

N: Here's what I think of Lestat, I think Lestat is a messy bitch who lives for drama. What did you know about Lestat coming into the audition?

S: I know the books, I've known them for a very long time. I heard they were making it and I said I hoped I would get the chance to an audition for it. The thing that freaked me about the auditon was the majority of it was in French. It had all the lines in English but it said in paranthesis in French. I studied French in school and my sister speaks fluent French but I am not fluent so that was a bit stressful.

N: You and Jacob did your chemistry tests over Zoom, I mean does anyone have chemistry over Zoom? That must've been so tough.

S: Yeah,. I don't know what they were looking for or how to gauge chemistry from that cause it was really glitchy and speaking over each other and trying really hard to act into the camera which just wasn't really working. Jacob is such a lovely person and a fantastic actor and just an easy person to be around so I could tell he was gonna be a very easy person to fall in love with. It was fun, in fact I just came with having ice cream with Jacob. And he says hello

N: Omg I'm obsessed, give me this footage, I want ice cream footage, I want strolling the streets of downtown New Orleans footage.

S: And we hang out all the time, we've become very good friends. Cause it is a crazy journery we're on and its a crazy job so it's nice have a very good friend.

N: So Lestat has a life well before the show starts and he's been on this journey and you have the different versions of Lestat from the book and you have this amalgation. What sort of conversations did you have w/ the showrunner Rolin Jones about your version of Lestat?

S: The premise is for Louis to revisit the interview so Louis has a more nuanced way of describing Lestat so my question was how much of this is the real Lestat and how much of is Louis' version of Lestat? Because obviously this is a memory. This is all through Louis's eyes so is this actually how Lestat is like or is he different? and I think we play with that on and off. What's really important about this season is you're playing a character seen through somebody else's eyes.

N: Right right right, Gordian knot. It's a bit of a layer.

S: And everyone kept telling me stop thinking about it too much don't think about it and I didn't and I don't think about it too much when I'm doing. There will come a day when I think Lestat turns around and goes actually this is how it fucking happend.

N: Okay well Sam, you're just making me so mad cause you're too kind and too funny. cause I was coming in with hard hitting questions and I was livid at Lestat. This is what's so fun about the show and what its doing so right as a genre story, is the humor and the personality. [coffin scene plays] I mean Lestat is out here, it's such a funny monent for Lestat its like OK you wanna own a club? I was like Louis you have unlimited power and you want a club? Dream bigger!

S: I think it goes to show how in love Lestat is with Louis that he's gonna give him these things that mean absolutely nothing in the context of vampire world. But what Lestat doesn't understand is that what Louis needs is that power and is control over his life. There's a lesson for both of them and in this moment, Lestat doesn't understand.

N: Here's another question I have.. I just need you to tell me, where is Lestat's money coming from??

S: He's got investments and he's got bankers and lawyers in France. When he got turned into a vampire, he was given like the most ginormous amount of money like an entire room of treat.

N: You're giving us so much backstory, I didn't even know that.

S: If you think about inflation over the years  its just like an obscene obscene amount of money. And if you've lived through the centuries you're able to follow the trends of markets..

N: That's why I would be a vampire or travel through time, like people say they would kill Hitler and yes I would do that too but I would also get some good property, like get some good spaces like I'd go back to like 1899 when its cheap and buy it all up. One Park Ave apartment!

S: Thats why all vampires are pretty damn rich, like Louis in 2022 in Dubai he is really mega rich, he's got Francis Bacons.

N: I didn't even clock it. You also know he's rich cause his penthouse is so cold. Rich people really love stone floors and sharp edges, you know they want you to know if you're poor  you could die in here.

S: Exactly, and you're never comfortable..

N: Why do you think Lestat chose Louis cause as a viewer there's a question from moment one - do these men really love each other, are they just entangled, the whole time you're watching.. do I want them to be together?

S: Being a vampire is hard, its very difficult to endure and exist forever basically and you need to have quite a lot of strength and internal power to endure and Lestat recognizes that in Louis. When he sees him on the street and thinks that very very very beautiful man just pulled a knife on his brother in the middle of the street to look powerful to save his own skin and he has enough strength to do that and Lestat thinks this guy has enough strength to endure. And he's also got the hots for him really badly. He tries really hard to be a good normal guy as best as he can and I think when he has dinner with his familiy and he screws up, he does actually feel quite bad that he's made a mess of that cause he was trying really hard to be on his best behavior. Instead he hypnotizes his brother and makes a big scene. He's starts making innuendos and brings up God, which is never a good thing with Lestat. So he does his absolute best to pretend he's drinking wine and eating food.

N: What was it like to go from covid isolation to sex scenes?

S: Um, hmm. The sex scenes were kind of the easier part and we were all in the same bubble together and we were getting tested all the time like daily. It was a funny time cause we had these mad contacts on and they're quite cloudy. Jacob and I really clung to each other a lot of the time cause we couldn't really see, everyone else had masks on and you could only the person just in front of you. So it was this very comedic languid dream like place.

N: Can we talk more about the contacts, the makeup.. I cannot take the nails, the long nails, the cutting everyone.

S: The nails were a real process, originally they were press on / stick on nails and I had so many action I was always grabbing stuff and they were constantly popping off and so they said you should get acryllic. It took me a long long time to get used to acryllic nails and a lot of people would just come up and talk to me, like I would be in a restaurant and someone would just be like hey I love your nails. it was free reign for people to come up and chat so I became a nicer looking person with the nails.

N: It's like nails and hair. You always had short hair right?

S: Yeah it's usually always short. My hair was short when I first arrived in and it grew out over the course of the show, so we extended it with extensions and then it was my own hair. At first Rolin was like you know I think you could have short hair your hair looks good, I was like no no no no.. I think if you're gonna play a character like Lestat you kind of  have to have the nails and the hair. And he likes to accentuate things if he's really pissed off he'll flip it all the way back you know.

N: And there are time we are almost getting drag queen level drama from Lestat,  he wants you and everyone in a 10 mile radius to know when he's mad.

S: It's drama, he loves drama. I love him very dearly so I don't want to say anything bad about him but he wants to create a bit of drama he'll create a bit of drama. And if he wants to be really seductive in a moment and flip it and be really ugly, he will. He does what he wants whenever he wants and he'll make sure everyone's watching him do it cause he know he looks great doing it. He's a super vain guy but his heart is in the right place I would say.

N: Nope Sam, nope. Okay. Sam. I'm gonna have to push back. I know you played him but I'm saying you're wrong. .. One thing I think Rolin does so well that you and Jacob capture is this is now an interracial relationship, it charges these questions Anne was already asking - what is it to be human, what is power, what are relationships. [incinerator argument scene plays] Do you think that being a vampire being hundreds of years old, that Lestat think of himself as above race?

S: I don't know if he thinks of it like that, I think he definitely acknowledges the prejudices that exist, he acknolwedges it as soon as he meets Louis and I think once you become a vampire, that you can transcend that, thats what Lestat fully misunderstands about Louis' situation. I think he has a lot to learn in that regard.

N: Lestat is kinda like humans are trifles, we don't have time for it. Louis believes humanity is worthwhile and still wants to be apart of it.

S: I think he just doesn't understand yet, I think Louis at this point doesn't understand the enormity of living forever. He's just become a vampire, his family is still around, I think once you see everyone around you grow old die you see wars break outriots break out, you see the ages through the century, you see humanity is in this fucked up cycle that continues on the same hamster wheel. You're this fantastic creature that exists outside of humanity, why do you need to bother engaging with the small little fancies of these human beings. Then Lestat, there's his choice, I'm gonna live it up and have a good time and make a joke about it find it funny. He is very oscillating though so sometimes the joke is at his expense and sometimes the joke is at everyone else's expensve but he is the one who's always laughing. But what I will say is what Lestat feels about humanity is through art, like there is a beautiful pure expression and he really repsects and admires that and love musicians and artists. [opera scene plays] I mean what an amazing gift to read a scene like that I couldn't believe it when I was reading it and then it dawned on me that I would have to play the piano, sing, and speak Italian and kill somebody. Yeah, don't screw it up or you will die. But if you're a good musician in his eyes, he will make sure you're fully appreciated. If you're bad, yes you will die.

N: So the stakes are pretty chill. Either you're good and have a patron for life or you're bad and you die.

[teasing future episodes]

Jewelle Gomez Interview Highlights

N: In this episode, we learn a lot about vampires. I'm wondering how common these are in other vampire stories, like are they things Anne codified or have they been around. First, Lestat saying he had been so lonely, he says there are only about 100 other vampires in the world. What? I thought there were so many more?

J: I think the general idea has been vampires don't create much in the way of community that tehy are individualists in a great sense. No one ever really talks about the numbers but they seem to be very small so I think the tendency is to be inviduals.

N: They said the vampires can't drink the blood of the dead?

J: Yeah, thats a no no. You just don't be doing that. The heart has still got to be beating while you're taking the blood. Cause the blood from a dead person will draw you into death. That's pretty common, everyone knows that.

N: I thought maybe it was a taste issue like its a little sticky its a little coagulated that its not as good. But okay. Another tidbit we get is vampires can't read the minds of someone they've made. So like lestat can't read louis' mind?

J: I dont know if that is a general rule about makers. In general, vampires can read anybody's thoughts based on my extensive research/

N: Vampires live in coffins but do they need to sleep in coffins. I thought that was an old school idea like if you were a modern vampire you'd be like this is my studio apartment.

J: Every novel you read they sleep in coffins, although when I was writing a black lesbian vampire moving into the 20th century having escaped from slavery, she would not be sleeping in no coffin! I was like no no no no no. The big thing about coffin is the security, if you can get in there and lock it. In Dracula he carries his home soil so his coffin is lined with. In my books, I put her on a futon and its pretty uncomfortable but so is a coffin, behind a very thick door and she's good to go.

N: Alright thats the end of our lightning round, okay now Jewelle, what is your relationship with TVC and Anne Rice in general?

J: I read IWTV certainly when it first came out and I had written a single story a vampire story that got published in the Village Voice and then I thought I could write more of these cause people really liked it. Anne Rice's writing made me realize how sensual the vampire story could be and that meant the texture to a lot of my own writing of vampire stories.

N: What is it about vampires for you that you feel like lends itself to exploring queerness and sexuality more so than other monsters?

J: I think vampires have a natural sensuality. I mean the very act of taking blood is skin against skin, touching. The way that vampire interactions are set up is like a seduction in most cases. Bringing someone into vampire life involves an exchange of liquids, the lips touching, parts of the body, its sensual by its very nature. It draws in anyone who is interested in any sensual writing, queer writers allows us to create an outsider figure who's also the hero of the story. For we as queer people, being an outside being at the center our of own story.

N: Certainly this version of IWTV is doing its own thing but very much rooted in Anne's books. Before it was a little implicit, it was coded that Louis and Lestat had something going on. Here it's like this is what its about.

J: I think Louis and Lestat's relationship is core to the story and what moves the story and because its the 21st century we can now look at how two men come together and can find each other. What's really moving about this particular version is when Lestat talks about how lonely he has been for so long and I think he's giving voice to what a lot of queer people feel before they find their queer lover. So its very very moving to be able to experience that loneliness before he's able to find the lover he's been looking for.

N: There's so many ethical questions about being a vampire, like you're a vampire that doesn't wanna kill people. Do you think a vampire has to kill people in order to be really powerful?

J: I don't think so. A vampire has the power to take blood and not kill. To take small amounts from lots of people and not kill. And that's the way I wanted my character to go cause she's creating community, I think the idea that Louis could take blood and not kill, he does finally get to that when we see the interview w/ the older Molloy. I also know that all of us donate blood to the Red Cross we don't die when we give a pint of blood. So I think its possible to donate that amount of blood to a vampire and still live. That made more sense to me, that's how I created my vampires.

N: I love the idea that a vampire would take your blood and give you Orange Juice and cookies. Like here's a couple dried biscuits, take a seat for 10 minutes.

[areyouwell]

Holy fucking shit dude. I just finished reading your phobophobia fic series and it was absolutely jaw dropping. The way you write in general is amazing, but your usage of words, the way you write reader, the way this reads like a whole fucking book, the foreshadowing (get it.), the plot twists... everything, it was perfect. This like- genuinely changed my life and is now in my top five favorite works of written creative media. This also hit so hard because I've also recently went through something traumatic where I started doubting my mind and memory and I felt reader when she was upset about that, I was having the same thoughts. This story was absolutely phenomenal. Im planning on going thru all the chapters and reblogging them all, I was too busy craving the next chapter to interact 😭 but this seriously deserve SO MUCH MORE ATTENTION. SO MUCH. I've been craving and an angsty, lengthy, logan x reader fic since August, when I got into his character. This was everything I wanted and more. You slayed the fucking boots down.

sorry for yapping so much girl i just needed to get it out I texted all my fic reading friends about this fic 😭💗

YOU ARE THE SWEETEST <33333

im so embarrassed to say how long it took me to get the foreshadowing joke i feel like the unfunny court jester ;–;

BUT, thank you so much!!!!! i did some research after reading this ask and found out that Phobophobia is longer than the original ACOTAR books (each book, not altogether) which is WILD to think about, it did not feel that long when i was writing it. so congrats those who stuck with it and read the whole thing, you've just read the equivalent of an over-average wordcount novel 👏 average novel wordcount is between 70k to 100k and Phobophobia, not including the oneshot, was 146k... GOOD JOB TEAM <3

i think one of the most gratifying parts of writing fics and posting them is to almost keep a chronological log of how writers have improved over time. comparing Phobophobia to like, my first ever fic (on a different blog) is so crazy. im so blown away by the reception to the fic as well, and so honoured to be in your top five, FIVE, favourite pieces of written creative media. i. am. CRYING. five is a very small number and im there? me? little can-barely-keep-herself-together-and-cries-when-she-has-to-go-to-work me???? deceased. on the floor. ascended.

as thrilled as i am you were able to find kinship with Firefly, and relate to her character, i sincerely hope you're doing okay now, and i'm so sorry you went through something traumatic that had you doubting your memory. whilst i haven't personally experienced doubting my own mind and memories, i can only imagine how terrifying it must be to lose faith in something so integral to our lives, and whilst i'm over the moon i could accurately portray a person's reaction to such a thing and that i could perhaps provide some companionship in feeling such a way, i truly hope you're alright <3

i have another just as angsty, actually probably more angsty long-fic in the works at the moment, which i think will be just as long, perhaps longer than Phobophobia (oopsies) and im so excited to start sharing that with everyone as well :D

PLEASE DO NOT APOLOGISE FOR YAPPING!!!!! i might have to put it in my rules that nobody is allowed to apologise for yapping. yapping apology rights REVOKED. i am a certified yapper. fluent in Yappanese, some may say, if you couldn't tell from the length of my own response :') in fact, you slayed the boots down with your yapping. Graduated with distinction from the University of Yapford, congratulations <3

[11thwardtls]

Memory Defrag | TRACK 3 - RECORD B | Azekawa Kinari's Ward Mayor Novel Translation

Warnings and Disclaimers:

This translation is not professionally done and is not proofread. Edits and clean-ups may come at a later date.

Not a 1:1 translation either and some liberties into localization were taken into account.

This novel will contain spoilers for the Ev3ns Main Story: "Chained Up Scarlet".

Appropriate Content and Trigger Warnings will be added if needed.

May be used for quotebots/masterlists etc.

I am not fluent and self-studying Japanese (albeit at turtle speed), this was translated by ear and with the help of a JP dictionary, so please feel free to point out any errors!

CW: Discussions about Death and Terminal Illness, Referenced Suicide Attempt

—/—/—/—/—/—

The data has transferred into its next phase. 

Reflected into my retinas, I found myself in the Azekawa Family’s living room where I was developed and spent my days in.

“Shut up already, you shitty dad!” 

Kinari was yelling.

He was eighteen years old. It was at that age that I was modeled after him. We had the same exact appearance.

He was wearing his high school uniform and he had a grim expression on his face.

“Watch your words, Kinari!” 

At the same time, the developer was similarly raising his voice.

“Where did you go when you skipped out on going to the hospital?! Make sure to see the doctor today!”

“Why do I have to go to the damn[1] hospital everyday?! It’s not like I’ll get any better if I go…!”

“Why can’t you understand that this is for your own good?!”

The depths of the developer’s heart is overflowing with cries of sadness.

The feeling of being unreasonably worried. The feeling of being uneasy and helpless. 

At the same time, he is also feeling uncontrollably furious at his son who won’t listen to his heart and continues to rebel against him.  

“Anyway, I’ve got plans to go karaoke[2] with my friends today. I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.” 

“Just karaoke?”

“Hey, if I’m gonna drop dead tomorrow, I might as well die doing what I love, right?!”

Watching through the developer’s memories, this Kinari was akin to brightly burning fire. 

A blazing, fiery blue inferno. 

At the very least, that’s how it appeared in the developer’s eyes. That’s what is being conveyed to me. 

A strong life force that burns fiercely and with all of its might, despite being cloaked in death. 

Kinari was shining with intense emotions and sheer will. 

With such momentum, even the developer was overwhelmed. 

“If I’m dying anyway… I’ll die singing.”

After spitting it all out, Kinari left the house.

The developer fell to his knees and covered his face with one of his hands. 

“...Kinari…”

[I’ll find a way to make you sing forever. I swear on it, I’ll make sure you’d get to sing as much as you want.]

I can feel the developer’s heart trembling. 

Feeling despair knowing that it would be impossible, he decided to complete that life extending treatment no matter what. 

He was filled with determination to make that happen. Because Kinari will definitely become a singer, after all. 

Did Kinari know about how his father felt?

As an android, I do not know the answer to that question.

All I know is that despite the developer’s strong determination, his hopes did not bear fruition.

[I only realize the things important to me when it’s too late.]

[Perhaps that’s just the way life is.]

Suddenly, from the corner of my memory, his words that I heard the other day came back as if they were flickering.

My vision then went dark.

—/—/—/—/—/—

Somewhere, I could hear the sound of rain. 

From within the darkness, a faint light from a street lamp shines through the window.

Inside that gray landscape, Kinari was there, crouching down and crying out.

[It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.[3]]

[It’s frustrating, so frustrating, so frustrating.]  

A painful emotion was surrounding Kinari. 

[Why do I have to die? I want to live too.]

His screams of agony blended in with the sound of rain. 

Whose… memory is this? 

The developer’s or Kinari’s?

That desire to live was unyielding more than anything else. It was strong, intense, and harsh, burning away at his heart with a redundant force that it seemed as if it could reduce his human body into ashes.

That’s what I understood. 

—/—/—/—/—/—

As the image disappeared from my retinas, my consciousness went adrift into slumber. 

I’m currently in semi-conscious mode.

[Would you like to suspend Sleep Mode?]

[Would you like to continue viewing data?]

Without replying to these message boxes that have appeared, I reflected on the video I had just seen, as well as the emotions I felt while watching it.

I wonder what this feeling is.

Something feels afloat within my heart. 

…I’ll think about it for a moment.

This heavy, bleak, sharp feeling is probably—Sadness. Sorrow. Frustration.

Perhaps these words would be close enough.

…Why did the ‘Original’ refuse to go to the hospital?

Doubt flooded my mind.

He wanted to live an intense life.

If he thought about it logically, he’d have a higher chance of surviving had he gone to the hospital.

I also wonder about the words, ‘I want to live’ and ‘If I had to die, I’d rather die singing’, which of them were his true feelings?

Raito, too, had said something similar. 

If I recall...

When I first met Raito, the person who had accepted [The Death Prophecy], despite having no desire to die, it’s as if he dove straight first into a trap just to kill himself.

Humans do not live their lives with a focus on rationality.

Sometimes, they act out because of something else compelling them to do so, those of which could be called emotions, desire or hope.

To this day, I still cannot comprehend it.

However, there are now ‘feelings’ that come to mind at present.

If the current ‘me’ relives and experiences what I had in the past, will I accept them?

Will it help develop the sensitivity as I had asked for?

I closed the page as I overwrote the browsing data with new findings, then responded to the message box. 

[Would you like to suspend Sleep Mode?]

No.

[Would you like to continue viewing data?]

Yes. 

This time, I opened the past recorded data that I had saved myself.

—/—/—/—/—/—

Translation Notes: 

1 - Kinari uses a very rude speech pattern here which felt difficult to translate into English, so I added a swear word instead. Gets the work done, I prommy. Also if it helps, og!Kinari uses 俺 (ore), and our!Kinari uses 自分 (jibun), in case anyone wants to know how to tell who speaks apart for reading the raw JP text.

2 - Might be completely an unreasonable note / speculation again, but this karaoke plan might be the same one that ties in with Tao’s novel: Back to the 99 Track 1-2 / Main Story SideA-01 and SideB-07. 

3 - This series of lines is repeating, 悲しい and 悔しい 3 times over and over. The flow when literally translated felt off so I translated them with the hopes that the word choice conveys something similar!

—/—/—/—/—/—

Directory:

Main Page | TRACK 1 | TRACK 2 | TRACK 3 | TRACK 4 | TRACK 5

[ziracona]

Woe, more fic be upon ye. [Fate/GO AU – The Kid (pt: 1, … 22,23, 24, 25,26, 27, 28_1, 28_2, 29_1, 29_2, ?)]{Some spoilers for og FGO/Temple of Time, vaguer spoilers for early CITLB}

.

Me and my dumb mouth.

“You know, Romani, for a man who’s supposed to be wise, that was a stupid thing to say,” I whisper under my breath.

At least she came back, right?

…I just. …

I had wanted to make things better. I wish I hadn’t been able to tap into her thoughts back when I woke up, because I can’t forget them. That poor woman is so sad, and I dragged her back here. I don’t know Da Vinci, but she knows me, and I can’t change or fix that. I guess…I’ll get to know her, slowly. But isn’t that wrong? Maybe, knowing how much it hurts her to watch me die, shouldn’t I keep more distance this time? Or—Or does it not even matter, because she already feels like she knows me, even if it’s not me me. If it were me, I’d want to spend as much time as possible with someone I loved, before they died. But not everyone is like me.

She wants me not to die, and I don’t want to die, but apparently I’m absolutely iron clad going to, because that’s how she saw it happen. And…I think I always knew that was how it would end, anyway. Sure, there was some remote possibility of a miracle, but you don’t plan around that unless it’s actually the only thing you have left to hope for. You plan around what you can do.

And I can’t…I can’t fix this for her. All I can do is feel guilty. I just wanted to thank her for her work, and say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak her out. I mean—it’s not at all like I’m planning to die down here. I have a lot to get done!

Speaking of which, I’m getting close to the magic source I’m hoping is a leyline.

‘Was’ hoping is more like it, I think morosely. The closer I get, the more sure I am that it’s not one at all. Whatever it is, though, it is a huge source of natural magic, so I can definitely use it to let them pinpoint my location. I might even be able to use it to boost my range and summon Makeda to me.

The only concern really is, if it’s not a leyline, what is it?

My first instinct would be ‘a holy site,’ but that’s sure not the vibe this labyrinth is giving. It does have carvings in the earthen walls, but it feels way more cursed here than holy.

Whatever the thing I passed earlier was, I only got close to it one other time as yet; that was a good twenty minutes ago now, and it got nowhere near as close to me. The thing seemed to be moving slowly both times I’ve heard it go by, though—much slower than I am, even at a walk, which has left me wondering if that means there’s more than one, or if whatever it is can travel fast, and I just haven’t seen it do it. Honestly, I’m not sure which option is worse.

Wish I knew what it was. What any of this is, I think, running my hand along one of the carvings in the wall. I speak a lot of languages, but Quechua isn’t one of them. I’m so frustrated with myself. If I was still a heroic spirit, I’d be able to, because we get a fluent understanding of any language we need when summoned! But now, all I’ve got are my own studies and memories. I’ve got six languages down fluently, and I can communicate well enough in a whole handful more, but of course I ended up not preparing for what I actually needed.

I guess it might not have mattered, I try to console myself, letting my hands run along a carving anyway, in case I get a stroke of brilliance, This isn’t Quechua—this is carvings. I’m sure they have occasional pictograms, but unless I’m remembering wrong, their actual written records involved cords, not carvings. I probably still wouldn’t know what this said, even if I was a spirit, because it doesn’t ‘say’ anything—it’s just a picture.

That actually does make me feel better.

The carving is in the dirt, not in any kind of stone holding up these tunnels, because there is none—which, coincidentally, has never made me feel great about the structural integrity of these tunnels, but, it’s also a wonder. From the natural decay and dampness that must accumulate down here, these should fade, or crumble, but so far, all the carvings I’ve stopped to feel or risk a look at, have been either completely, or almost entirely, intact. This one is the same; it's well made and carved deep, simple, but finely done. I trace lines with my fingers and reconstruct the image in my head, since I don’t want to risk using a light. It’s like a game I played with my brothers and sisters as a child, where someone would use their finger to draw a simple depiction of an animal on your back, or the palm of your hand, and with your eyes shut, you had to guess by touch what it was.

This carving is one I’ve felt before now, several times. It’s a human figure, but with a muzzle, like a cat, and horns on its head.

That must be Supay, I think nervously, because even with a minimal amount of knowledge of the area, I know the descriptions of the most famous gods, But, I haven’t felt any divine presence here, or any holy energy. For that matter, as overwhelmingly malignant as this place feels, even if it was an entirely evil being, I still haven’t felt anything with the strength or quality of a god or high demon at all.

Maybe…it just means the place has, or had, some connection with the underworld.

Great… I think, kind of wishing I hadn’t asked.

More stressed now, I keep going. I walk slow and careful, ears straining for sound. Nothing.

That’s good.

Okay. I’m getting close. At this speed, maybe ten more minutes, fifteen at the worst.

I continue in careful silence.

“…grace, the Lord……..among……”

What the hell was that.

I stop.

“….is the fruit………of God, pray……at the hour…..”

It’s faint. The voice is quiet and lilting and friendly, and it’s the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard. A man, speaking coaxingly, in a soft register, and I have no idea from which direction. The sound bounces off the walls as if it’s from everywhere, and floats past me.

Shit. Run, or hide?

I can tell whoever it is, is praying, but that’s the last thing I could naturally run into down here. No one would be calmly saying a –a—what is that? A Hail Mary?

“…full of grace, the….theee…Blessed ….among women….is the fruit of thy womb….Mother…pray for us….now at the hour of…..amen.”

It’s louder. No, it’s not—it’s only more distinct. How can he be closer, without sounding louder to my ears?

This is bad. Shit.

Okay. Calm down. He’s talking, he knows you’re there, or he knows you’re close. Do not hide. Move.

I begin to walk, faster than before, but still trying to be quiet. I grip my little staff in my hands. Focus. Forward, left at the fork, immediate right, ten meters, another left, sixteen meters, a right, and—And shit. That’s the end of the area of my last scan. I’m going to have to do it again to find the right paths.

“Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women, and Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now at the hour….Amen.”

Ten meters, left, sixteen meters, right—O-okay. I place my hand against the wall, wince internally, and reach out with my feeble circuits as far forward as I can.

“Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee, Blessed are thou among women, and Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

Shit. I can hear the direction now—it’s behind me, and it’s really close. Am I being hunted by a Catholic?! What the hell is going on? I-I don’t remember any legends a—oh fuck it I don’t have time to-!

Speed-walking, I go forward, forward again at the next intersection, and then once more, forward.

For a moment, I don’t hear it whispering prayers behind me.

“O wonderful hope, which you gave to those who wept for you at the hour of your death, promising after your departure to be helpful to your brethren!”

Shit.

The sound seeps into the air, making me feel sick. Damn it—is this a spell? I don’t feel any kind of magic though!

“- Fulfill, O Father, what you have promised, and help us by your prayers.”

It’s close. Fuck it, there’s no way it hasn’t figured out exactly where I am. I run.

Full tilt sprint, I click on my coms. Instantly, I can hear something pounding after me in the maze, but there’s too many feet for one person! The shuffle is like something on six legs-

“Da Vinci, Roman?” I call, for some stupid, ridiculously optimistic reason, still a little under my breath.

“Yes?”-“What’s up?” come their overlapping answers.

“May God the Father bless us. May God the Son heal us. May God the Holy Spirit enlighten us, and give us eyes to see with, ears to hear with, hands to do the work of God with, feet to walk with, a mouth to preach the word of salvation with-“

I skid into a right turn. “Hi so I uh—I-I’m being chased—I think I’m about to be hate crime’d to death?” I gasp for breath as I run. “Terrible feeling!”

“You’re WHAT?” comes my own, horrified response.

“Shit—Okay—can you reach the leyline?!” comes Da Vinci’s.

It’s not a leyline, but that really doesn’t seem important to bring up now.

“-and the angel of peace to watch over us and lead us at last, by our Lord's gift, to the Kingdom.  Amen,” comes the suddenly deep and distorting voice in the walls behind me.

I did not think I could run any faster, but apparently, I can.

“I’m doing my best!” I call, giving up on stealth entirely, “I uh-“

Something behind me makes a horrible CRACK sound, and I smell the overwhelming stench of offal behind me. DID IT JUST BREAK THROUGH A WALL?

“-Yes! I definitely will!” I shout. I slam a hand against the wall, and my energy surges out, mapping the area ahead. Left, left, right, forward, left, forward—fuck! No no no, no! It ends! There’s a dead end—I-I don’t have time to find a way to circle wide around. Okay this is fine! That thing broke through one wall without knocking down the place, surely you have enough juice to take just one out too! Reach the end, and it’s one dirt wall to the right. You can do this.

The sound of shuffling at unreasonable speed is getting closer.

“May God the Father bless us, May God the Son heal us. May God the Holy Spirit enlighten us and give us eyes to see with, ears to hear with, hands to do the work of God-“ There is absolutely no beneficence or coaxing promise in the voice now. It’s sickeningly dripping with malice and pleasure, the pleasure of someone with a knife, preparing to very slowly pick apart someone tied up and helpless in the corner.

“לְהַגבִּיר!” I call, focusing the entirety of my precision on my legs. They enhance as much as they can at the command, and I fly forward with the temporary speed of an Olympic sprinter. Forward, left, forward, so close-

It works, and I hear the voice behind me drop back just a little. I pray it’s enough to buy me time.

“-With, feet to walk with and a mouth to preach the word of salvation. The angel of peace to watch over us and lead us at last by our Lord’s gift to the kingdom-“

“What are you going to do?” ‘Roman’ asks over my coms as I tear down the last hallway, “You won’t have much time.”

“I know!” I call back. I can barely stop fast enough not to ram into the dead end. Okay, this is it! “Wish me luck, okay! I’m about to do something really stupid!” I call.

“WHAT?!” asks the other me.

“…good luck?” offers Da Vinci like she’s bracing for a car crash.

I place my hand on the wall. “לְהַחלִישׁ!” I weaken the wall with everything I’ve got left, then brace the circuits in my shoulder, take a running start, and ram it with as much force as I can manage.

It hurts. But the dirt around me shatters like drywall, and I stumble through to where I meant to be. There is a deep, dark, puddle of something I don’t have time to care about, except that it’s giving off leyline-levels of energy. I use the metal focus-rod device Da Vinci gave me, and ram it into the puddle like a tent spike, then grab it with both hands.

“MAKEDA!” I call at the top of my lungs, focusing my all on the tiny link I can still feel.

The command seal fires—a bright, seeping crimson.

And nothing happens.

I stare, in horror, at the seal on my hand, which is gone now.

“WHA—oh shit! Romani?!” calls Da Vinci.

It didn’t work. … Oh no. I…

In the tunnel behind me, I can hear that horrible shuffling. The scent of puss is closing in. I’m going to have to fight.

“Hey, listen to me!” Roman shouts urgently from the other side of coms, “Romani, try someone new! Makeda failed because I’m in the way—Someone I’m not contracted to, I can’t be in the way of!”

Right. I-I have a point. I have no catalyst and almost no magical energy. Even if I try to suck up everything I can and redirect it in a blast at this thing, I don’t even know what’s after me, forget how to kill it. Plus, I don’t really lose anything by failing a summon, except time-

“You, who sit in the gardens, the friends hearken to your voice; let me hear it!” I call, picking the first incantation I can think of, “I shall stand with you who stand with me, alone we fall, together we are not broken-“

Catalyst, catalyst—I guess I don’t need one but-!

I remember what my father said, when he yelled that I hadn’t called for him, and I ram my hand down onto the spike, spattering my blood along it.

“If you would answer, come! Soul spirit and body, needed and bound together once more—let me hear your answer!”

The natural energy from the puddle surges around me in a bright glowing blue, spins, and explodes upwards, lifting my hair and the edges of my clothing with it. I feel a sharp stabbing sensation in my throat—at a guess, from frying the circuits there—but with it, the almost invisible command seals on my hand light up and then darken into a normal opacity, and at my side, little flecks of gold and blue swirl together and condense and then, with a shimmer like sunlight on the water, there is a woman standing beside me.

She is startlingly beautiful. I’m scared and stressed out of my wits, and my brain still thinks it has time to clock how genuinely impossible her very curvaceous figure is. Her hair is black and long with gentle curls, a circlet with a mostly see-through veil covering it and her face, like a bride. She wears a flowing robe of bright blue and white, with gold thread and jewelry holding it in place and adorning her. Her eyes are black like the night sky, and more beautiful and brilliant. Her nose is striking and strong, her lips thin and gentle, and her skin a dark teak. In her hand, she holds an ornate scepter, with a lantern hung from the top, and a scroll affixed beneath it.

I have absolutely no idea who she is.

I really thought my blood would get me someone related. Nice suggestion, Dad! –all that matters is someone came, I guess—even if she takes one look at me and appears completely shocked that she has.

“Thank you!” I call out a little desperately as she gapes at me, “Careful—I’m being—”

The earthen wall up the tunnel shatters. Shit! I assumed it would just follow my path!

Staggering out into the tunnel a few meters back is a tall figure. It only has two legs, but it takes such awful, tiny, dragging and quick steps, the scuffing sounds like three men.

Coughing the dirt out of my lungs, I cover my mouth and nose with an arm as the air settles and the thing comes forward, and I can see my pursuer for the first time in the light of this woman’s scepter. Behind me, I hear her gasp.

It looks human. But it’s so wrong. It’s a man, massive—at least six and a half feet tall, broad shouldered and muscular, built like a Hollywood action hero, but he’s dressed like a priest. Or, the idea of a priest.

Its all wrong. His hair is styled like a modern man, and his shoes are modern, but he wears the robes of a Dominican Priest from a different century. His skin is wrong too—so wrong. It’s the skin of a white man, so sickly pale he almost looks dead. But, his skin is unnaturally tight and perfect, like it’s been pulled off someone else, and vacuum sealed to this form, or altered by a surgeon so much, there is nothing left to tighten. He carries a massive knife, a huge pack on his back, and small bags on the belt at his waist. There is blood on his boots, and blood on his hands. Old blood, new blood. Little flecks of flesh and marrow and offal sticking to him here or there along the robe. When he grins, his teeth are sharp, and perfect—bright white.

“Caster!” I call as a guess, since the shape of my command seals barely changed.

A bright light bursts from the lantern, and a crow tears out of it, shrieking and slashing at the looming figure’s eyes.

Huh? Well that’s an unexpected opening—I glance over at her, and the woman’s eyes are wide with terror.

What?

Her lips tremble, and she leans back and grips her staff in front of her like a body shield so hard her arms shake.

I haven’t ever seen a heroic spirit act this way on summoning. Why would…?

Ahead, the monster who looks like a man takes a nasty scratch from the raven, but easily slashes it in half with his knife. He grins at us as it vanishes. Bits of flesh hang from between his teeth.

My summoned spirit swings her staff, and a wolf leaps from it this time, a massive bear behind it, and both charge the creature. It moves forward with impossible speed for those tiny steps, making its horrible shuffling sound again, and ducks past the wolf’s lunge to drive its knife across its back. As the wolf vanishes, the bear collides with the figure, and takes him down, roaring and tearing. For a second, my view of him is blocked in the narrow tunnel, and then the bear bursts into sparks, and the monster sits up from the ground, tears in its monk’s robe, but seemingly not even noticing the bloody scratches along its torso.

“What is he?” asks my spirit fearfully, her lantern lighting up again—this time three mostly opaque men appear, draw sabers, and rush the monster.

“I don’t know,” I call back, gripping my own staff tighter. Okay—okay, think—she’s clearly a summoner type Caster. The bear didn’t phase it even though it took damage, so there must be a trick to killing it—a weak spot, or weapon type. I try to see if it’s guarding any part of itself as her men attack it.

The monster takes a slash to his arm from the first one, to his leg from the second, and to his face from the last, as they rush him—the first charging in directly, the second skidding beneath him to make a swing, and the last running up a wall and striking him from above as it passes. Unaffected, the creature swipes up and takes the head off the man striking from above. As his lifeless head topples to the floor, the monster dives back with horrifying speed and runs his knife through the second, cutting him in half, then throws its knife at the last, catching him between the eyes. The knife immediately reappears the monster’s hand, as the last body thuds to the floor and vanishes. It turns to us to grin.

“How should-“ starts my spirit, and then something cylindrical and long slams into her neck, and she goes down with a scream.

I realize in horror and disgust it’s the creature’s tongue. Three inches wide, shaped like a tube, and pulsating disgustingly with slime and sickly yellowed veins; it must be at least thirty feet long to have hit her from where it’s standing. It makes a horrible, slow, slurping sound, and she screams louder.

With all my might, I bring my quarterstaff down onto the tongue, and all it does is bend a little at the impact. Even with its mouth full, I hear the creature laughing, a sickening, guttural laugh, and then it shoots forward towards its prey, retracting its tongue as it goes, and it slams into me before I can move, burying a row and a half of razor sharp, four-inch teeth into my stomach.

I scream now, and I hear the woman shriek again as I am slammed against her by the monster.

It grins at me over the teeth embedded in my gut, then flings me bodily to the side wall with just the muscles in its neck. I impact the wall so hard, my vision goes dark for a second, and I feel a sharp pain along my neck when my senses return. Vision swaying, I look up from the growing red stain along my stomach to try to find my caster. I can hear her screams getting louder, more terrified.

She’s barely five feet to the side, but my vision’s still half-dark. For a moment, all I can make out are struggling forms. Then I see them.

My caster is on her back, grappling, and the massive, dead, disgusting thing like a man is on top of her, his jaw unhinged, and his teeth digging into her from neck to sternum, making a horrific sucking noise as he drinks something out of her chest, maybe her blood.

“Caster!” I call, pain rippling out from my gut, I sink my fingers into the dirt and drag myself towards them. Shit I can’t move fast enough-

“לְהַקְשִׁיחַ!” I shout instead, digging my fingers deeper into the earth and ripping up as much as I can, compacting it in my hand and hardening it with the command into the density of a stone, “לְחַדֵד!” It sharpens to a spear-tip at the command, and I fling it at the thing’s head with all my might.

It screams as the makeshift weapon slices through the flesh in its cheek, and into its mouth, and it rips its teeth out of the caster violently to leap at me.

It knocks into me painfully hard, slamming me onto my back, and flings something white and powdery into my face. Trying not to breathe it in, I rake my fingernails across the grinning thing’s perfect white face, and it bites my arm, tearing out a chunk of flesh. I scream.

Climbing on top of me, the monster grabs my throat with one hand and with the other, brings up the massive knife. I manage to get up my left arm and catch his wrist, struggling to keep the knife back, as his putrid, stretched-tight skin twists into a smile so rigid his cheeks look like they’ll rupture against the bone any second. “Caster!” I shout. His mouth opens and his tongue crawls out, moving on its own, like a worm, down along my chest and abdomen, then slowly digs itself through my clothes and into my already wounded stomach.

It's one of the most horrific things I’ve ever felt. It crawls along my skin and burrows in, eating through skin and intestinal lining and ferreting deeper as I scream in agony. It maneuvers inside me, turning around and up, digging back into my flesh from inside, and I feel hooks set; then I can feel it start to suck. The sensation is excruciating. I feel parts of me rip free and die. It’s eating me. No. It’s sucking the fat out of me, I realize in horror as the tongue pulses and a wave of agony passes along me.

I-I can’t—my grip on the hand with the knife is slipping. There’s just so much pain. No, no, no-!

I turn desperately to look, and I can see the Caster rolling onto her side across from me, clutching her neck with one hand, and snagging her staff with the other. There’s a flash of light, and a masked man appears from the lamp and rams into the creature with all his weight, knocking the thing off me, and swinging his saber through its tongue as he goes, severing it.

I gasp as the monster releases my throat, choking on chalky powder, and drag myself back, coughing and clutching my gut. I feel fingers close around my shoulder, and my Caster tugs me further from the thing as I rip out what’s left of the tongue and struggle to get oxygen back in my lungs.

“Blunt objects don’t work,” I choke out frantically, “Blades do—"

Ahead of us, the creature cuts off the masked man’s head with a shriek, and turns back to us. In the relative darkness, its bright blue eyes glow, and its pained sounds begin to twist into a hideous laughter. It grins at us, blood pouring out of its mouth.

“The head!” I call—praying I’m right. It keeps decapitating its own prey, so maybe-

Shaking, but angry now too, my Caster swings her staff at the monster and calls, “Forty Thieves!”

A burst of massive energy erupts from her staff, and a whole army of men with sabers and knives pour forward, running up the walls and around each other, making for him like a flood. The creature shrieks in rage and rushes to meet them, but is carried back and away from us by the sheer number of summoned phantoms. I hear slashes and the sickening thunk of metal into flesh, the squelch of body parts being trampled underfoot, the voices of men and of that thing, and the spatter of blood, but my Caster’s face is hard now, and she grips her staff with purpose. The number of men dwindles, until there’s something like ten, and then the noise stops, and those last few fade into nothing, leaving behind just one body.

I can only assume it belonged to the creature. Her thieves have sliced it into so many tiny pieces, all that I can reliably tell anymore is the color of its skin.

There is no more sound, no more movement.

Nothing but us.

Shakily, still watching in case it can somehow re-form, I reach up my hand and touch her leg, running mana along my pathetic circuits. I focus, and I heal her the best I can. My ability is severely limited, with the weak connection I have to Ritsuka right now, but at least healing is one of the easier magics for me, and I can draw some natural energy from the nearby pool of…whatever it is. When I feel sure enough the thing is going to stay dead, and I look up, I know I haven’t fixed all the damage to my Caster, but I can see her wounds are closed, at least. Exhausted, I remember to reach down then and do the same to myself.

“Good job,” I manage through my damaged throat, breaking the tense silence, “Thank you.”

“A-Are there more?” asks my Caster. She hesitates, then finally lowers her staff and looks down at me.

“I don’t think so,” I croak out, “I only ever saw the one. Are you okay?”

“I—I am a little worse for the wear, Master,” she replies shakily, but then she tries to smile. The look is immediately replaced by worry as she actually sees me, “And you? It-It has wounded you, badly!”

“Healing,” I reassure. Huh. My response time feels slowed. That’s not great. Shit, how hard did I hit my head?

“Are you sure you will live?” asks the Caster anxiously, kneeling to get a better look at my wounds.

“Yeah—thank you,” I say, sincerely appreciative of the concern. I feel woozy, and a little slow. I’m actually not super worried about my stomach, because I had enough energy to heal that, but I lost a lot of blood first, and I might be concussed. Healing a basic wound is easy; replacing blood is a lot harder. The brain is another thing entirely. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do a better job healing you,” I add, “I don’t have the deepest reserves of magical energy right now. I’m afraid closing wounds is the best I can do. –I uh, I’m Doctor Romani Archaman, by the way.” I offer her a hand. “You can call me Romani—or Roman, if it’s hard to pronounce. Or Doctor Archaman. Whatever you prefer.”

She looks a little taken aback, but she nods and takes my hand. Her fingers are delicate and her skin soft, absolutely not the hands of a warrior. Rings with brilliant little gemstones affixed to them in intricate patterns rest on her fingers.

“I am your servant, Caster class—although you already knew that,” she say properly, “True Name: Scheherazade.”

I knew that of course. After her forty thieves, there was really no other option, but, it’s polite to wait for a heroic spirit to tell you.

“Thank you for answering my call,” I say.

She tilts her head, looking a bit confused by that. “Uhm. …Master, I will of course do whatever I can to serve you. I am afraid I’m not much of a fighter, though. I’m much more suited to entertainment, or counsel. Support.”

“Well, you did a great job,” I try to reassure, gesturing to the little pieces of…whatever it was, that still line the tunnel. I give her a shaky grin. “Didn’t want to bank on the head being the weak spot, I guess?”

She flushes. “A-Apologies, Master. My thieves were just—t-they’re prone to being…thorough.”

I laugh. Oh, it hurts—that was a bad idea. It turns into a pained cough, and it takes me a second to stop. Ow. “It’s fine,” I manage, “Better safe than sorry, right?” Oh shit. Hurriedly, I tap my coms. “Da Vinci? Roman?

My Caster tilts her head, watching.

Shit. No response, and no sound. Worried now, I take off the earpiece and study it.

“…What is that? –I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” Scheherazade hurries to add.

“It’s uhm—a communicator,” I reply, squinting at it. The little audio speaker and the backing case are gunked up with something. What on—oh! It’s that powder. Shit, was that thing smart enough to know I was on coms? I’m kind of impressed.

“Broken?” asks Scheherazade.

“No—no, I don’t think so,” I say on delay, blowing on it and watching some of the powder disperse with relief, “I think I just need to clean it. If not, I can probably rig that up,” I add, indicating the amplifier I used to summon her.

“R…Right,” she replies, looking from one device to the other. Hesitantly, Scheherazade then glances down the dark earthen tunnel, and at the hole I broke through the adjoining wall. “…Master, why was I summoned? Where are we?”

I feel bad. She sounds so nervous, like she thinks I’ll punish her for asking questions.

It’s honestly sickening, now that I have time to think about it. I know I didn’t have any real options, but I hate the heroic spirit summoning system more than anyone else I’ve ever met—I lost everything just trying to get off it and to the afterlife. I know firsthand the horrors of being summoned to fight and die for strangers whose interest don’t align with your own, and treat you like an object or a slave, over and over again, or worse, force you to commit acts that will haunt you forever. I can’t believe I summoned someone else. I mean—she’s not the first—I also summoned Da Vinci and Makeda, I suppose, but, both absolutely wanted to be here. Scheherazade seems scared. Though, if she didn’t want to be here, why answer the summons? I had no real catalyst—none tied to her, anyway. Yeah, hey, wait. What the hell. Why didn’t I get a family member? Even a distant relative would have made way more sense than her. Was Ab just wrong? I guess, since my body is new, maybe my blood doesn’t work as a catalyst anymore, and he was? I’m certainly still Jewish, but I guess I have less than no real clue what ‘Romani Archaman’s’ specific biological lineage is. He looks a lot like I did, and like Abba still does, so, I suppose I just assumed he was right when he yelled at me over this. It does seem weird, to look a good bit like myself, and not have any genetic linking. Still, the grail cursed me in every single stupid way it seems to have been able to grasp at. I suppose giving me false hope by making me look like my family, but have no direct lineage in this new body, isn’t entirely off-brand…

“…I’m sorry.” Scheherazade is looking at the ground sadly now. “I would never intend to pry. I am only out of my depth, and seeking to do a better job for you, Master.”

Oh shit. I totally ignored her. Man, I really am concussed, aren’t I?

“—Oh—no, it’s alright,” I say hurriedly, although my voice sounds kind of weirdly slurred in my ears for a moment, “I uh—I think I’m a bit concussed.”

She looks alarmed by this, and quickly checks the back of my head.

“—You asked where we are, right?” I say, trying to remember, and a little alarmed I’m not 100% sure I do, “Peru, in the year 2017,” I answer, starting with what I know, “More immediately…I’m really not sure. I ended up sort of teleported down here when I arrived. That’s why I summoned you—I need help, getting out.”

“Out?” she asks, producing a scarf and pressing it gently to the wound on the back of my head.

“Yes,” I say, “We’re underground. More than 100 feet. I haven’t been able to sense high enough yet to find the surface. But, you’re a Caster-“ I realize suddenly, “Do you think you can?”

She smiles apologetically and then nods. “I will do my best.” Thousands of little butterflies and beetles, and a small, smoke-like creature I don’t recognize, appear from her lamp and vanish down the tunnel—I assume to scout it.

It should not have taken so long to think about how she could do that. “Hey—how bad does my head look?” I ask, a little more concerned now.

“…Well,” she says uncertainly, “It is not my specialty, but while you are bleeding, and you have a nasty bump, the cut is not deep, and I see no skull. H-How does your head feel? Are you having any trouble staying awake?”

“No,” I reply. That does sound like a concussion is pretty possible though. I reach up to feel my head myself, and my hand moves slow, and wrong. I stop, and look at my hand, flex my fingers. My motions come stunted, and weak. What…?

“And…the general situation I have been summoned for, Master?” asks my Caster tentatively, apply gentle pressure to my wound, “This is no grail war, and I was given no set of rules, or framework on summoning. Why a personal summon for me? I-If it is not imprudent to ask it.”

“No…it’s…” My vision blurs. I…I’m so dizzy. This…it’s not just blood loss…is it? “S…I’m sorry…” I manage stuntedly, “…something’s wrong. …I can’t….”

“Master?”

I don’t know what happened. I’m laying on the ground. I was just sitting up—I’m sure of it. But I see the cave roof above me now, and Scheherazade looking down at me with big, frightened eyes.

“Mnh…” I moan, pain radiating up from my lungs and across my body. “…Sh…erazade…this—powder.”

It’s all I can manage. My throat feels like it’s closing up on me.

“Powder?” she echoes, looking around for it. I guess she must see some on the ground, because she says, “From the monster?”

“p…son,” I choke out. I try to get up, but I can’t—I can’t move at all. My head feels wrong. I…think…

….

…

..

…

….Nhhhhn….what…happened? I…I should really…check in with…with Da Vinci and…me…Need…to see how…Ritsuka is doing…

Everything hurts, and feels wrong at the same time. There is a stabbing, tingling pain, like the agonizing pins and needles stabs of a leg that’s fallen asleep when you try to stand, only, I feel it everywhere.

What’s going on?

I open my eyes, and all I see is dirt.

Oh right…the tunnel.

That’s okay then. That’s where I’m supposed to be. There’s…some reason I shouldn’t just go back to sleep, though. I can’t remember what it is, but…?

Through blurry vision, I can make out my Caster kneeling over me, holding my arm. That…stings, I think, twitching at the stimuli. It…feels wrong.

‘Caster?’ I try to say, but when I try, I realize I can’t move my jaw. I can’t move my tongue.

“C-Caster…?” I try in my head instead.

She looks surprised, and pauses what she’s doing to look down at my face.

No, that…that’s wrong. She said her…her name is…Scheherazade.

“Master,” she replies out loud, “Are you awake now?”

“Yes,” I reply in my head. My breathing is labored. Why does it hurt so much—what happened? I can’t…I don’t remember. “W…What happened to me?”

“That creature, the Pishtaco, I’ve learned they’re called,” she replies gently, “It carries a powder made of bones, to paralyze victims. Don’t worry! It will eventually wear off—I have already assessed it. But, you probably won’t be able to move or talk for a little bit. …C-Can you? Move, or talk?”

Can I…? I wonder in a daze. I try to raise a hand, and nothing happens. I tell my brain to open my mouth, and again, no response. When I push, I can get a little sound out of my throat, but it’s just a weak moan of pain.

“I…I can’t,” I tell her in my head, “I can think—a-although I’m a little dizzy. But I can’t even move my fingers.”

“That’s alright,” she says, looking a little relieved, “Don’t worry. It will wear off in maybe an hour or so, from what I can tell.”

An hour? That… “How long was I out?” I ask.

“A good while,” she replies, “Maybe thirty minutes. …My scouts returned.”

“That’s good,” I say to her through the mental connection, “Did they find a way out?”

She hesitates, pursing her lips, and idly runs a finger along the back of my hand. Ow.

Again, I twitch in pain at the sensation. Is this from stabbing my palm on the spike? No—I-I thought that was my left hand.

“…We’re deep underground,” she says finally, sounding worried, and sorry. Her eyes are turned away, and so heavily lidded, they almost look shut. “Do you know what Uku Pacha is?”

“I…think so,” I reply. It’s hard to focus. The pins and needles pain is ever-present and difficult to bear. Come on. Try. Okay. “…It’s the Underworld, of the Inca.”

“Yes,” she replies out loud.

For a moment, there is only silence.

She…can’t actually mean we’re…

“We’re not dead,” I say, because I’m pretty sure of it.

“We are in the land of the dead,” she says quietly, “And it is splitting apart.”

“Splitting?”

She considers her words a moment, then continues. As she does, she traces her finger along my arm and hand again, and every touch brings me a little stab of pain that makes my fingers twitch. “…Something is deeply wrong here. The dead are angry. The dead are being defiled by something in the land. And the old—the very, very old dead, are on the brink of waking up. I don’t know what is going on in this place, but it is teetering on the edge of a disaster. If nothing changes…This place will crack open, and either leak out, or drag the area all around it inside itself. If the very old dead awake as well? I…” She shakes her head. “I can’t even guess…”

Scheherazade looks so sincerely worried, and her voice is soft, but the pain in my arm is getting unbearable.

“Please,” I say, “That hurts. Whatever’s wrong with my hand, I can’t take it while I’m paralyzed. It amplifies the pain too much.”

She stops, looking surprised, and sorry, and meets my gaze. “Does it hurt badly?”

“Yes,” I reply. Something’s really…off. If I could just think clearly, I’d know what it…is, but, I’m still so foggy, I…

“…Master,” she says gently, looking away again, into the middle distance as her mind goes somewhere else, “I wish you had not summoned me.” She sighs, looking very sad. Her finger hovers above the skin on my hand, but she doesn’t move it. “…I never answer a summon,” she adds sadly, almost more to herself than me, “Not if I have a choice. But, I never have a choice. …You know my story?”

Pieces are beginning to work their way through my tired brain and set, and I feel a cold fear start to settle in my stomach. “Yes,” I answer in my head quietly.

“…The threat of death was so real,” she says with a regretful smile, “For almost three years of nights. I had a child, the first year. Every month, every day, as pregnancy grew more difficult, my terror grew deeper. Terror that I would fall asleep. The day I gave birth, it was the most terrifying of all. I was so tired, Master. I had never been so tired my entire life. I had this…beautiful new, hopeful baby boy in my arms, wrapped in a bright cloth, like my life was about to begin in a new form, and I couldn’t look at him and feel joy, or love, or peace, or happiness, or hope. All I could feel, was fear. If I fell asleep that night, before reaching a point of interest in a new story, and my husband killed me in the morning, what would become of him? Would he live? Would another woman raise him, for one day and night each, the rest of his life? Would he be set in the grave with me?”

She sounds so far away, but I can hear the fear in her words even now, like ice creeping along a pond and setting into something solid and fixed.

“I had another boy, and another, and ever time…even the day I finally begged for my life, after 1002 days of living in that fear, I was holding an infant, and I didn’t know what would become of us,” she continues. Her eyes close for a moment, and her finger rests against my skin again.

The pain is immense this time. I try to scream, but I can’t open my mouth, and the sound comes out choked.

“Scheherazade, please!” I try frantically in my head, “Wait! Just listen to me! Give me a chance!”

“I finally had some peace, in my life, after those three harrowing years,” she continues, ignoring me, and as she digs her finger along the back of my hand, I can’t think clearly enough to try and communicate anymore—all I can do is try and fail to scream. I know what she’s doing now: she’s digging out the circuits in my hand. She’s taking the command spells.

“Please!” I manage. My whole body begins to jerk in response to the agony rippling down my nervous system.

“Then I died,” she says emptily. She’s no longer looking in my direction at all. “And the Throne took me. …I had done all that, for my sister. For the women who would have been taken next, for the ones already dead. Now, I’ll never see anyone again. I am trapped here. My soul is carved into that horrific cage, and I am only woken up long enough to be used by one barbaric mage after another, until it kills me.”

There is venom in her voice, and hate, but it’s so overwhelmingly swallowed by pain. Agony, loneliness, hopelessness, fear.

I know this feeling. It’s how I felt—or—or it’s another shade of the same color. I wanted to be free. I wanted to see my family. I wanted it to be over.

“I just want it to be over,” she whispers, shutting her eyes. Tears slip past them, and run down her cheeks, and when she opens them, she looks at me again finally, and she does look sorry, “But it never will be. This is it. There is no other side. There is no rest, there is nothing better. I’m trapped. Not 1001 nights. All the nights, forever, for the rest of eternity, and no matter how good a story I weave, I will still die. I will die, and I will be brought back to do it again anyway, buying time, buying time, buying time, and then slaughtered. And I do it for no one.” She begins to sob, shoulders shaking, and her dark hair spilling forward over her shoulders. “A-And my children—my sister, my father-“

She cries harder. For an instant, the pain in my hand stops, and I can breathe and think again.

“I’m—I’m sorry Scheherazade,” I tell her frantically while I have the chance, “I didn’t mean to call you! I called anyone who would answer! —I just needed help. I don’t want to hurt you-“

“You already have!” she cuts in, voice breaking, “I’m here! It’s too late, now! I will die, and the only question is how long, and how painfully! How many nights, and how hard the last will be!”

“Please, I didn’t know—I can try to help you,” I beg.

“—Liar!” she sobs, “I never answer a summon when given the choice! The Throne did not send me, so you must have used a catalyst!”

“I didn’t!” I plead, because I really didn’t! She can’t believe me, though, and her finger returns to the skin of my hand and a sensation like I’ve been stabbed tears through me. “Please! I’m not lying!”

“And now,” she continues, ignoring me again, no longer actively crying, but silent tears still running down her face, “You have called me to the Underworld, and it is full of hateful dead, seeking to kill and drag and trap anything they can find down here, with them. You have called me to the worst possible place.” Her voice cracks again, and her shoulders tremble. “I was not here a moment before I was hurt. That disgusting thing assaulted me, and nearly ended my life. I just---I can’t! I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t, I’m not strong enough.”

“P-Please,” I manage through the stabs of pain tearing across me as she carefully slices circuits out one at a time, “Don’t—d-don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and again, she looks it, “I don’t know you. You could be anyone. You could be good, or bad. You are a mage, but you healed my wound. You were polite. I don’t want to hurt you, but I have no other way.”

“I can protect you,” I try.

“I will never have a chance like this again,” says Scheherazade, “A Master who cannot order me to stop? I can run away. I can be free. I-I will run out of mana, and die, but I can find somewhere safe. I can put myself to sleep, and fade away. The only painless death for a spirit.” She looks at me sadly. “I know that if I stayed, you would force me to fight again. I would have to help you, with whatever has brought you to a place where the Underworld cracks apart. No matter how kind a master you might be, there is no master kinder than the world they’re trying to save.”

My heart sinks. What can I possibly say?

“I’m truly sorry,” she says, pausing her motions to place her hand on my cheek, “If I could knock you out for this, I would, but I will cause more long-term damage if I do not do this while you’re awake. I can use your brain’s active response to the pain to cut and take only what I need, nothing more. You will live. You will still be able to move your arm. All you will lose is the use of your hand.”

“Please, please don’t do this,” I beg again, trying to get her to hold eye contact as long as possible, “If you don’t want to fight, I swear; I won’t make you. I’ll never force you to do anything again. But I have two other contracted spirits—I don’t know what will happen-“

She almost smiles. “-You’re such a bad liar.”

Idiot! How can you quickly explain one mage having three?! Or not being able to call them for help? It doesn’t matter if it’s true! It sounds like absolute bullshit to me, too!

“…It makes me think you’re probably usually an honest man,” she says with regret, lowering her gaze, “…But as well as my magic works on you, you must also be nobility. And I would be a fool to trust a king…”

I try to speak, try to get out a, ‘Please,’ to see how my voice is doing, but while I can move the muscles in my throat, I can’t move my tongue or jaw at all, and the best I can do with my lips is let the tiniest crack open to let out sound, but it just comes out like, “heaee” as an exhale. Shit. Shit. Is there anything you can say without using your mouth?! Think!

“Please,” I say in my head instead, “Please. I’ll dissolve the contract—I’ll let you go. I swear; I swear on my mother, on my God. Just don’t do this.”

She hesitates and looks at me, trying to decide, and I see her begin to tear up, then finally she turns her head away. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe you. I don’t know you. And after I tried to do this, there’s no way you would let me go. I’m sorry.”

Crying, she slides her finger along the back of my hand again, and I feel her cutting away at my spells. It feels like having part of your soul cut off. My fingers jerk wildly, and I scream again. My body begins to thrash on its own as my nerves go haywire, and stab after stab of excruciating pain assaults my brain.

“Stop! I’m begging you! This will kill me!” I shout in my head as loud as I can.

“I can’t,” she whispers, shutting her eyes and turning her head away.

“Ngủ!” I shout in Vietnamese. ‘Muu’—a sound I can make entirely just in my throat. ‘Sleep’.

My second command spell tears out of my hand and into her. She shrieks and falls backwards as the spell carves into her, then drops, and goes still.

In the silence, I breathe raggedly.

Thank you. Thank you, God. It worked.

But for how long?

That’s the real question. I have to be able to speak before she wakes up again, or I’m done. I guess…I do have one last command seal, but if I use it, I have no reason for her not to kill me.

Focus.

Ignoring the pain in my hand, I shut my eyes and focus on my breathing. In, out. Steady. Deep.

I turn my focus internal, and begin willing my pathetic trickle of mana towards my head and neck. Heal. Come on.

After a few minutes of focused concentration, I can move my tongue a little. Good. Good. Keep it up.

This stuff can’t last forever, and I don’t need it to be clear—I just need it to be wearing off enough, and I’m halfway there.

As I wait out the clock in this dismal, stinking dirt pit of a hallway, I turn my head and look at the Caster I summoned. She’s crumpled motionless on the ground, still bloody from the earlier fight, and face still wet with tears. She looks so…pathetic, and helpless there, her finery all spattered with blood, and her neck bruised and bloody. Her long, ebony hair is spattered with mud now, her veil torn.

I’m sorry, I think, watching her still features, I really didn’t mean to summon you, Storyteller. But, I did. So, however it happened, I’m responsible for it now.

What did she say? ‘No master, no matter how kind, is ever kinder than the world they’re trying to save’?

I think about that, a lot, as the minutes tick from five to fifteen. Finally, I get enough motion back that I can move an arm. It’s floppy, like trying to use motor control right after heavy anesthesia, but I can do it. After another ten minutes, I manage to drag myself to the wall and slump against it. There’s no way I can stay upright on my own, but this is better than nothing. She’s still out. I’m more than a little surprised.

Hell of a command spell, I think, looking at the one remaining bright red mark on my hand. She’s a high class heroic spirit, and she’s been out almost half an hour. Huh…

I need to contact Chaldea, but no way I can clean out the coms unit before this wears off, and I’m not even sure where it is right now. I’m in no condition to search so for the next almost twenty minutes either, so all I have left to do is think, and wait.

Nnnh…what…?

Groaning, I open my eyes and blink, trying to remember what’s going on.

There is a man a few feet away, sitting and watching me. He wears white, stained red with blood, and his peach hair is disheveled and dirty, strands of it stuck to his face with sweat and blood.

On the back of his hand, is a bright red command spell.

No.

Terror shrieks through me with unprecedented power and speed as I realize what happened; I fell asleep.

My breath catches in my throat, and I jolt up to my arms, then realize I can’t run—I—I can’t do anything. He’s going to kill me. I fell asleep halfway through, and he’s going to kill me.

Quaking with fear, I lower myself back down and bury my face under my arms.

What can I do? I—I can’t do anything—I’m—I could plead—I wasn’t going to kill him, maybe—no, speaking will make it worse. No! What can-?!

“Scheherazade.” It’s my Master’s voice. The poison has worn off then, and I have no chance.

Heart pounding in my ears, body trembling, I force myself to uncover my head, and look up at him from the ground.

His face is so serious, and grim, spattered with blood. From the second I met him, I could feel this man had the blood of a King in him, and I can only feel it more overpoweringly now. It makes me feel like I’m taking in water with every breath, and I’ll drown just by staying in his presence.

“I’m sorry I forced you to sleep, after what you’d just told me,” he says quietly, “It was the only command I could think of that gave me a chance to survive, and I could say without being able to move my mouth.”

I gape at him, wide-eyed, in terror. I-Is he mocking me? I don’t-

“I’m not angry,” says the King. His eyebrows lift in the middle, like he’s concerned. Why is he saying this? What is he trying to do?

Grimacing in pain, my Master leans up a little. “I understand, why you did it. And I’m truly sorry that I summoned you. I didn’t mean to do it—I have been thinking about it for almost an hour now, and I’m still not sure how I could have. I used my blood as a catalyst, and at least as far as I know, I have no relation to you at all.”

I don’t understand. He sounds sincere, but that isn’t how summons work. Why is he lying now?

"I'm sure you will have trouble believing me,” he says, looking at the ground for a moment and smiling sadly, then focusing back on me, “I just don’t know what else to say. As unbelievable as that is, it’s the truth. I really was—am, contracted to two other spirits as well, but I’m cut off from them here. I’ll explain whatever I can, and answer any questions you have, but even with almost an hour to think about it, I don’t know how to begin this conversation with you. Everything happening to me is so…bizarre, so outlandish, it all sounds like a fever dream when I say it out loud.”

I feel completely at a loss. He’s smiling, and his face and voice are gentle, but that’s all wrong. I can feel his strength and power, his authority. Why behave this way? What is he hoping to trick me into? I don’t understand.

“Please,” he says, and my head echoes with the sound of him desperately begging the same word, helpless on the ground. Unsteadily, he holds out his hand.

I flinch, and shut my eyes.

“Get up; I won’t hurt you,” he promises, “I meant what I said. I’m sorry for how you were summoned. I’m not going to punish you for attacking me before; I understand why you did it. Although I have no idea how I caused this, if you say you were forced into the summon, I believe you. Accident or no, that’s my responsibility now. I’m sorry you were hurt.”

Sick with anxiety, and very afraid of saying the wrong thing, I make myself open my eyes, and I shakily straighten up until I am kneeling before him. I lift my chin and force myself to look up into his eyes.

He’s smiling at me, as if he’s sorry. His hand is still extended. I-I’m not sure what he wants me to do; does he want me to take it?

“Please, say something,” he asks worriedly.

I don’t understand. I can sense the blood of a king in him. This man is very strong, deep down, no matter what he looks like. He’s a human, worse, a mage. I just tried to betray my Master and run. I don’t understand.

“…M-Master,” I whisper, then falter, unsure what to say.

“You don’t need to call me that,” he says, looking down with a tinge of regret, “I wish I’d introduced myself more properly. If I’d only reexamined my priorities, we might have avoided all this.” Meeting my gaze again he adds, “Please, call me Romani, or Doctor Archaman.”

“Doctor Archaman,” I choke out, voice quivering, “I…I’m s-so sorry. Please. S-“

“—I told you already,” he cuts me off, voice friendly and soft, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to kill you, either.”

I feel myself tear up, and try to choke it back.

“What’s wrong?” he asks worriedly.

“Please don’t torture me,” I whisper, shutting my eyes. I feel tears spill out, and I can’t hold them back.

“S-Stop trying to come up with horrible things I haven’t said yet I won’t do!” he says in distress, “Scheherazade, I swear; I’m not going to do anything bad to you. I won’t. Please, open your eyes.”

I force myself to swallow and I do.

He studies me for a moment, then stretches the hand he still holds out closer to me. “Please, listen to me, alright? I know you’re in a horrible situation. I know I got you hurt, and then I did something cruel, to save my life. I truly didn’t want this. You said you didn’t want to hurt me, right? When you were cutting out my command spells.”

I flinch, and look away.

“—No, please, look at me,” he begs.

I do. His eyes are bright and clear, not like any king I’ve ever seen before. But, they’re also hunted. They…they look the way my eyes look to me, when I see myself in a mirror now.

“I believe you. I know you didn’t want to, and I know you were telling the truth about trying to hurt me as little as you could. What I did to you, I did for the same reason; I ended up here on accident, against my will, and I want to survive. So, please. Let’s start over.” His arm is starting to shake from effort, but he keeps it up. I guess the poison hasn’t entirely worn off. “I meant everything I said to you. If you want me to dissolve your contract, I will. That’ll kill you, though—not quickly, but, you’ll run out of energy, and vanish. If that’s the best I can offer you, though, I’ll do it. Here and now.”

“…Why?” I ask him, trying to believe, and finding it impossible, “I…”

“You bandaged my head,” says the King, gesturing to the hair scarf I took off to bind his head wound. It’s still in place. “You did that after I lost consciousness. After I was helpless. Probably, after you’d decided to take my spells and run. You knew when I woke up, there would be a miniscule chance I’d be able to speak, but you didn’t take the spells in that half hour I was unconscious, and you didn’t seal my mouth shut, because you knew as much pain as I was about to be in, I was likely vomit as a reaction, like people usually do when tortured, and if I did that gagged, I would choke on it, and die.”

My eyes widen, and my pulse quickens again. How can he possibly know that? I-I didn’t say anything.

“I was a stranger, and a human, and a mage. I was a threat,” he continues evenly, voice almost calming, “But you stopped my bleeding, and you kept my airways clear. You were kind, and understanding. You explained your reasons, and you waited until I was conscious to do it, so you could see which circuits activated my seals, and only cut out the part of me you had to. Usually, when a mage steals spells, at best they take the entire arm.”

His words freeze me in place. I knew he was strong, but I had no idea how quick he was. I feel completely cornered.

Since I still haven’t moved, my Master finally lowers his arm and unsteadily drags his body forward, motions stunted, then reaches for my hand. I shiver at the touch, but I force myself not to pull away. Gently, he lifts my right hand in his, and places his left on top of it.

“Scheherazade, you are not a cruel and treacherous servant, or a coward. You’re unreasonably kind, for one the world has been so merciless to.”

Stunned by his words, I look up at him. Past the blood and dirt smeared across his worn face, there is nothing but sincerity and respect in his bright eyes.

“You could easily have killed me, or hurt me, and gotten away. The only reason I won, was because you held back, just in case I didn’t deserve it,” he says, “Thank you. Please, let me return your kindness.”

“…Who are you?” I ask, searching his face.

“I can’t answer that fully somewhere like this, with ears,” he says, holding my gaze, “But I haven’t lied to you about myself. I’m Doctor Romani Archaman, a member of the Chaldea Security Organization. I’m here trying to fix the thing you sensed down here, and anything else dangerously wrong in the area. I’m trying to keep the world safe. I’m also a lot more like you than I can explain. But, I hope you can believe that.”

For the first time, I do.

I shouldn’t—I know I shouldn’t, but. …But everything he’s said that I know the accuracy of, has been true. And if this man wanted me dead, or punished, I would be helpless already to stop him.

“I do,” I whisper.

He smiles, a real, massively relieved, slightly awkward smile. It’s…the least intimidating he’s looked since he was unconscious.

“Thank you,” he says, like he means it, and he gives my hands a very gentle squeeze, “Now.”

Exhaling, he hesitates long enough to give the horrible dirt tunnel an unhappy look, then turns his focus back to me.

“I’m trapped down here, and I want to get out. I have people who need me topside. If you are willing to help me navigate, I would be deeply in your debt, Queen Scheherazade,” says the man, bowing his head to me like a royal envoy, “I am injured, and desperate, and alone. I need help.”

No one who has…ever summoned me has called me ‘Queen.’ I think no one remembers I was given that title, by the end of it. I am always seen as the prisoner, struggling desperately to survive. Not the woman who lived.

“However,” he continues, looking back up, and giving me an apologetic smile, “It does not have to be you, my Queen. I can try to summon again, once I regain some strength. I know this is not your fight, and you are here against your will. I won’t keep you as a prisoner. If it’s your wish, I will release you from your contract, and let you pass back on to the Throne.”

I wonder, if he means that. I wish I could sense truth, like he seems able to. But, that’s not the kind of magic I know.

Would you really, foreign King? I think, thoughts racing, imagining every possibility they can, Even with a world to save?

“If you choose to stay, I can’t promise we won’t be attacked,” he continues, and his face falls a little. I can see him thinking hard before he continues, and when he does, his voice is quieter, more subdued. “Actually, I’m certain I will be. And you may be hurt. You may be killed.”

I feel a shiver run down my spine, but I keep my eyes on his.

“All I can promise,” continues the King, “Is that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and alive. If you are hurt, you won’t be hurt alone, and if you die, it will be over my own dead body. I can’t promise you more, because that’s everything I have to offer, but if you take it, I will never betray you, or leave you behind.”

For a moment, I stay quiet, watching the lantern light flicker in his eyes.

“…No one has ever spoken like that to me before,” I say quietly, lowering my gaze finally, and looking at the back of his hand. It is not in my nature to trust people anymore, but I have been given a stronger reason than I knew could exist. “Alright, then….” I say, looking up into his eyes again. For a moment, I see a flicker of fear in them. He’s not sure what I’ll do.

Which means he doesn’t have the conceit of a manipulator. That was the fervent appeal of a man giving it everything he’s got.

Which means…he really is just asking for my help.

My lingering doubts mostly fade around me, and I place my left hand on top of his, then look up into his face and give him my own shaky smile. “Very well, my King; I accept. As long as you keep your word, and protect me, I will do whatever else I can to help you escape.”

“Oh thank heaven,” he says rapidly in an exhale, and then he laughs weakly and gives me a friendly smile, “Alright. With that out of the way, do you think you could help me walk? The poison’s mostly worn off, but I have the motor control of partygoer one shot away from blackout drunk.”

I laugh in spite of myself, and give a nod. “Of course, -“ I stop, because I was going to say ‘Master,’ but he’s asked me twice now not to call him that. “—Doctor,” I decide instead after an awkward two seconds, and I help him up, still feeling a little shaky myself.

“Uh—could you grab my staff for me?” asks the Doctor, pointing to where it fell, “It’s sort of my only form of self-defense right now, and if I’m going to be fighting monsters, I’d like to have something with me.”

I nod, and lean him gently against the wall, then go retrieve it.

“—Oh—my communicator,” he adds like he’s almost ashamed of himself, “And the—”

He looks past me, to the little pool of black blood in the back of this tunnel, and he stops, gaping. Oh…of course…

“Uhm,” I say, voice quivering, “I’m afraid I uh. Well—I wasn’t sure how those worked, and I didn’t want you to call your people and tell them what I’d done, so I’m afraid I…snapped them both in half.”

“…” He stares at the broken metal stake at the edge of the pool, face blank and skin ashy, “…S-So you did.”

“I’m terribly sorry!” I try, anxiously handing him his staff, “I— …”

“…Well, okay,” he says, like he’s working through this, “Uh—that happened. …Maybe I can fix them, when we’re somewhere safer. You just snapped them—you didn’t grind them to dust, so, it’s at least not out of the realm of possibility.”

“Y-Yes! I didn’t do anything extreme,” I say, hurrying to gather the four broken pieces of equipment. I brush as much dirt and blood off them as I can, then present them to him.

He still looks a little shaken, but he takes the pieces and looks them over, then gives me a faint smile. “This isn’t so bad, actually. I think I can at least repair the bigger one.”

That’s such a relief. After the way he’s behaved, I feel more and more ashamed of my actions.

“Alright,” says the Doctor, rallying. He gets the pieces into his little backpack, then grips the stick in his left hand, and gives me a nod. Anxious, I put his right arm around my shoulder, and help him begin to walk. “…Do you know which way to go?” he asks.

“Yes. I saw all of the nearby areas with my scouts,” I answer, “I will take us towards the surface, in the most direct and least-dangerous way I can.”

“There’s a way up?” he asks, excited and surprised, “I-I mean, a pre-existing one?”

I nod. “This was a place for the dead to rest. Tombs always have an opening, even ones like this. Otherwise, the dead could not cross. This place has many openings, but they are not all ones a living human can use. -But that’s alright. There are several meant for the living. One is not too far.”

“Thank you, Scheherzade,” he says sincerely, and he looks at me with respect, as if I am a peer, “I really…really needed you. I think I would be dead down here alone.”

“You are welcome,” I reply quietly, thinking through his words. He’s a very strange man.

For a while, we travel in silence. The Doctor seems too weak to spend energy speaking—honestly, from the visible effort on his face with every step, alone, I’m amazed he’s able to keep going like this at all.

I know I’m taking a tremendous amount of his mana. It’s strange…I—I can’t figure him out. He’s…so weak. But he’s not—I can feel it. I can always tell if I am with someone who is royalty, and I know this man is a King, or—the son of a King, maybe. He’s something. A Chieftain, an Emperor, a Sultan? Yet he’s introduced himself as a doctor, and I don’t think he was lying. I can’t quite puzzle it out.

Why is he here? He said to deal with some threat to the world, and I suppose the dead here could be that, but, it sounded as if there was more. If he’s a King of some kind though, why is his only weapon a wooden staff? I saw his technique in that fight, and he has a flawless execution, but he was only choosing the simplest of spells to use. He was… --it’s like watching a world-class vocalist sing a child’s song. I don’t understand. Why does he have so few circuits? Even if he was an average human, and my sense of his lineage is wrong, he would still have an almost impossibly low number of circuits in his body. The statistical odds alone are…

It doesn’t make any sense.

I watch him for a moment. He’s so tired now, he doesn’t even seem to notice. His eyes are half glazed-over, and sweat runs down the side of his face with every step. He’s a very beautiful man, but there is nothing elegant about how he’s dressed. He’s dressed like a Doctor. And he doesn’t…he doesn’t smell of blood like a mage, either. Back when I was summoned, I couldn’t tell—the stench of that black pool of blood was so strong to me, I couldn’t even smell the bloodlust of that monster over it. But, now that we’re away from it, I can tell he doesn’t smell of blood at all.

And he was speaking Hebrew. I knew the language—even before becoming a spirit. But, he’s only done that for spellcraft, not in conversation at all. That can only mean it’s the language he learned magic in, and he’s doing it for maximum efficiency in his work.

Uhg! None of this makes sense to me! And the unknown is terrifying; how am I supposed to guard against that?!

I-I don’t get it. I just don’t. Am I wrong?

As we wind through this awful maze meant to keep the living and the dead apart, I find no answers. I am so sure I am correct, but I am also certain he is not hiding what he is. The only guess I can form is that he’s somehow been cursed.

He reminds me of stories, of people transformed by some spirit or monster, into an animal, or another human form—usually older, or uglier, or just very different. Often, it’s a punishment, sometimes it’s to hide them, and then, sometimes it’s just a bad roll of the dice. And that’s possible, isn’t it? Maybe something has happened to him. At least that could make all these disjointed pieces that feel so in opposition, make sense.

“…Are you alright?” The Doctor’s voice is weak and dry when he speaks, and when I glance over at him, I can see his little remaining strength is fading.

Foolish man, I think, feeling an emotion I am not accustomed to as a spirit, In another hour, like this, you will be unconscious, and at my mercy again. Doesn’t that terrify you?

And he’s asking me how I am?

“I am not flesh and blood,” I remind him gently, “Focus on yourself, Doctor.”

“You can still tire,” he disagrees with a self-effacing smile, “and I know I’m a poor source of energy for you.”

“I don’t mind,” I reply, “…But, I’m almost healed, from before, since you wish to know.”

“Good,” he says, shutting his eyes for a just a moment, and sighing.

He looks so pathetic. He’s bloody and covered in grime and sweat, his throat is bruised, and his arm shakes on the staff. I wonder, if he’s afraid too.

“Alright,” I sigh, and I stop, forcing him to stop with me. He looks at me in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” asks the Doctor. A little out of it, and moving with the jerky movements of a man upon waking, he raises his staff and steps in front of me, looking for danger up ahead.

He really means to try, doesn’t he? I reach up from behind and place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. Nothing is wrong. You are simply too exhausted to continue, and we both need you to replenish energy so we can heal.”

“…” He thinks quickly, looking increasingly distressed. “…No—we can’t. There could be more of those things down here.”

“Master,” I say coaxingly, forgetting he told me not to call him that until it’s too late, and I turn him to face me, “If you continue to force your body onward, you will die. You are already badly damaged. And if you die, I will lose my anchor, and die as well. Did you not swear to do everything you could to protect my life?”

“-I’m stronger than I look,” he says, giving the hall in both directions a dubious look, “and I can’t just leave you alone here while I sleep.”

“You are not that strong,” I argue, calling his bluff, “And you will not be leaving me ‘here,’ exactly. While I would have loved to get past the maze, we are along one of the far walls, near a dead-end. There is no reason for anything to come here. I can at all times sense the safest place around me, and in this maze, this is it. I will hide us from any enemies, and I will keep watch. Something would have to trip over us to find us here, and if somehow something does, when I feel it coming, I will wake you. Besides that, I will rest too.”

Persuasive as I am, he considers this place again, still not certain, taking in the carvings, the pressure, the horrific miasma. “…Are you sure?” He looks so worried. I can’t decide if it’s funny, sad, or sweet.

Maybe it’s all those things, and more.

“I’m sure,” I promise, “…May I?”

Torn, he hesitates, and then finally, looking defeated, he gives me a nod.

I shut my eyes and picture a mental landscape, a safe place, a last bastion; a room, with a door that can close and lock, and windows, to see threats coming. A bedroom to retreat to and curl up in. A place to stay alive.

Territory creation is easy for all Casters, but it’s nature to me. I’m a conjurer, and I was, in a way, even back when I was alive.

Around us, the hall transforms into a bedroom. There are stone walls with a few slit windows like an Archer would use—to keep an eye on the hall ahead—but otherwise, the area is closed. Glowing lanterns hang above and cast warmth and intricate shadows, and plants climb the walls, filling the area with the fresh scent of flowers and myrrh. A colorful rug with woven patterns that tell the story of a girl transformed into a bird covers the floor. Pillows and cushions line the edges of the walls, with a low table built against one, holding a pitcher and a plate of bread and fruit. In the center of the room, a large square bed sits, posts holding a canopy above it, with bright blue gauze and pink trim, royal blue blankets, and silver-stitched pillows.

I hear an exhale from the Doctor, and I glance at his face to see genuine wonder there. It makes me feel proud. This is generally not a trick my Master finds impressive or useful, let alone amazing.

“This is beautiful,” he says in almost a whisper, and he smiles at me, “Your territory?”

I nod.

“It’s very comforting. Usually panic rooms look like a prison to me. This…it reminds me a little of my mother’s room, when I was a child…” I’m not sure he meant to say that. I’m not even sure, from the distracted, almost feverish way he looks, that he’s aware he has.

“Alright, Doctor,” I say gently, placing a hand on his arm and maneuvering him towards the bed, “It’s time for you to rest.”

A little out of it, he lets me. “How does it work?” he asks, gaze still on the room around us as I sit him down.

I consider using my abilities on him to coax him to take off his filthy coat, but I’m afraid as keen as he is, he might notice, and distrust my motives. Better not…

“It takes and transforms the nearby energy, into a workshop—which in my case, is a room like that,” I reply, kneeling and going to remove his muddy shoes, “The cost is low already, but transforming nearby energy supplements that, and cleanses the area. You’ve noticed the way even the air here feels oppressive to breathe—”

“—Oh you don’t need to do that,” he says apologetically as he finally notices what I’m doing when his shoe is halfway off, “—Sorry.” Bumbling over himself, he tugs off his formerly white boots. “—Uhm—but yeah—I know what you mean, about the air.”

I sit back on my knees and watch him. “That miasma is an element of this area, but in here, it doesn’t exist; I’ve transmuted it into stones and cloth, and as the area outside naturally sustains and replenishes its properties, I will continue to absorb them on contact and use it to sustain my own. –Could you take off your jacket too? And the pack?”

“—Hm?” he asks, and I can almost see the wariness starting to spike in him.

“—It’s just,” I hurry, and I pick up the edge of his coat, which is still soaked in a half-dried mixture of mud and blood, and show it to him.

Bending forward on the edge of the bed, he grimaces at it. “Ah. Yeah…” As he takes in his state for real, I think he relaxes a little. It’s an innocent enough request; he is truly filthy.

Awkwardly, he pulls off the pack, wincing, and I stand up to help him maneuver it, and then the coat, off. The coat clings to his stomach, and he has to be gentle with it, trying not to tear at the shirt and the wound beneath it, as he gets it free.

“From the outside, my workshop will look simply like the dead end of this tunnel. It has bounded fields to conceal sound, smell, magic—anything inside here that something out there might sense as unusual,” I continue as I help him, “It is completely hidden from the outside world. If something by chance were to bump into it, they would simply think it is a dirt wall where the tunnel ends. Even if a noble phantasm were fired at it from close range, it will absorb the shot itself, protecting anyone inside—even an EX rank Phantasm will only shatter it, not breach beyond, on the first hit. -Impractical for battle, of course, given the time it takes to cast, but a very good place to rest.”

“I’ll say,” he agrees with genuine interest, “This is truly impressive.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking his pack and coat, “I will clean these for you while you rest.”

“—Oh—You don’t have—”

“—It’s very easy,” I reassure him, setting them on a stool for the moment, “I’m a Caster, remember?”

He looks a little torn. I guess he’s intelligent enough to not entirely relax, even around someone who has agreed to help him. And I did already maliciously break some of his equipment…

“…That’s very kind of you. And honestly, I would really appreciate it,” he offers with a sigh, reaching up—I think to rub his temple—but stopping when his fingers meet the scarf I bandaged him with earlier. He draws his hand back and gives me a very, pathetically sad look. “You’re not my servant though-“

“-What?” I say, genuinely taken aback. Am I being dismissed?!

“—Oh, noo—no I mean,” he fumbles, “—not my literal servant—not an attendant? –Y-You don’t have to wait on me!”

His face is flushed. He still looks half-feverish, and half-dead. Incredible he still has enough strength to work ‘embarrassed’ in there too.

I laugh without meaning to, almost under my breath, and walk back over to the bed. “I won’t, then. But you need help right now. When I need help, you can wait on me.”

I’m not sure that answer pleases him, but he doesn’t argue—he just looks mildly distressed.

“Water?” I offer, trying to distract him.

He starts to say something, then sighs, and accepts the jug I bring over. “Thank you, Highness.” He relaxes a little with the words. “…You’re a very kind person.”

I think he is too, but I’m not sure yet, and I can’t afford to be wrong, so I don’t say it.

“What about you? I know you don’t need to eat and drink to live, but you must be tired too—has your wound finished healing now?” he asks with concern.

“It has,” I agree, moving the scarf around my neck, to show him.

He beckons me closer, so I kneel and place my arms on the edge of the bed, then hold still as he inspects it with the focus of a real doctor.

I know this was my idea, but I am suddenly nervous again. I know this man has truly done nothing to hurt me since summoning me here, and his words seem sincere, but kneeling by the bed, alone with him, I am enveloped by the sense of just how fearsome and overpowering a King this man must be. The magic tied to my spirit core is screaming at me that he can in no way be some normal, human doctor, and I should flee from him. It makes me want to cower at his feet, or run away the moment his back is turned. I don’t know how to reconcile the feeling, with the person I am experiencing firsthand, who seems as meek as a puppy, and as gentle as wetnurse.

“It does look healed,” he says after a moment, with such sincere relief, and even sickly as he is, he gives me a friendly smile. “If your bite felt the way mine did, I only wish we had a couple of self-geas scrolls on us, because that tongue is a sensation I’d love to forget.”

That’s so incredibly accurate. I also would love not to remember it.

“You should still rest though. I know I can’t supply you with a normal amount of mana, so please tell me if you think of something I can do to supplement it. My only real hope so far, is that it’ll get better the closer we get to the land of the living,” he says with chagrin.

“…Doctor,” I say uncertainly, still leaning against the edge of the bed, and watching him, “could I ask you about something, now that we are somewhere the world cannot hear?”

“Oh,” he says, I guess remembering what he told me earlier, and he looks more than a little worried, but he nods. “Go ahead.”

I consider saying something like, ‘My magic works supremely well on you, so I know you’re royalty,’ because I think he’s likely to lie to me if I don’t give him proof, but, I’m also not sure I want to tip my hand that way. After a moment, I settle for, “…As a heroic spirit, I can sense when someone near me is…like Shahryar.”

“I give off that impression?” he says, looking dismayed.

I have to work to not laugh, and to remain serious. “No—not ‘like him’ as a person. Like him in power—a King. Royalty.”

The Doctor’s face drains of color.

I was right.

Why doesn’t he want me to know that? Alarms sound inside my head, and I seriously consider aborting this conversation entirely, just to be safe.

No. …He’s weak, and he’s feverish right now—I have seen how cunning he is. If he is a threat, this will be the best opportunity I have left to act. Once he is recovered, I will have no edge at all. I need to know.

“…You seem normal,” I say slowly, watching his face with great care, “Your circuits are poor quality, and few. You dress as a civilian. Your manner…is like a doctor. And yet, I can also feel…the rest of you. Under the surface.”

He listens quietly. His face remains bloodless, and I can sense his heart beating fast, but his muscle do not tense for a fight—I am watching for that. His expression becomes more worried and beaten, than angry or on guard. When he thinks over my words, I do not get the sense he is planning an attack.

“…Your question is, ‘who am I’?” he asks.

I nod.

For a long minute and ten seconds, he considers this again, and then he pushes himself up off the bed, wincing, and lowers himself next to it, so he is kneeling beside me. I find this somewhat alarming at first, but all he looks, when he comes to rest opposite me, is worried.

“I will tell you, Queen Scheherazade, if you want to know,” he says carefully, choosing words like footholds on cracking ice, “But, there is something I am dealing with—fighting, really, and knowing about this is dangerous. If you let what you know slip, and he becomes aware…everything will fall apart. Right now, he’s trying to destroy everything—time itself. The past. Humanity. The future.”

That almost sounds nice. I don’t want anyone to suffer, but if there were no humans left, surely the throne would cease to exist, and we would all finally be free to rest, and see our families again. I could be free.

“My daughter,” he adds, and the distress in his eyes is so evident and real, I immediately feel guilty at my previous thought.

Dunyazade, my little sister. My sons, my daughter. Of course he wants to keep his child alive. The suffering I went through for three years, I did so the women around me could live normal lives, to their natural conclusion, especially Dunyazade. For me, they’re all safely in the past now—at rest, out of reach, in their afterlife. But his isn’t there yet.

“Do you still want to know?” asks the Doctor, “And if you do, can you swear to me you’ll keep it to yourself?”

I…

I don’t…want to betray him. His eyes are so fervent, and full of pain. I keep remembering the way he said, ‘This is going to kill me,’ in my head, before fighting back. Like death was the only line he couldn’t let me cross. …And…a part of me, a significant part of me, is afraid that if he tells me the truth, I…will find some reason, to betray him. I think…I think I do not trust myself.

“…Could you,” I try hesitantly, faltering as I speak, “Could you tell me what you are? Without telling me your identity?”

Surprised, he thinks about that, then says, “I can do my best.”

“Do that, then. For the rest, I…I would need to think,” I reply.

“…Alright,” he says, “…You were correct. I uh. –I’m not a king. Not anymore. But, I was. I was a king, who left his mark on humanity, and after my death, I was claimed by the throne.”

His voice has quickly become quiet, and sad.

“…I won a grail war. I was granted a wish. …I felt a lot like you,” he continues, and he sighs. The guilt carved into his face is hard to even comprehend, “…I missed my family. I was tired, of the cruelty of mages who summon us and treat us like animals. I was tired of being forced to do things against my heart. I was tired of having no future. I just wanted to go home.”

His voice is very quiet on the last line, but I hear it.

I feel a pang in my chest.

“…I was given a last life,” he says, finally looking back at me again, with eyes sadder than I think I’ve ever seen in a man, “this life. When I die, I can go on, to obscurity. But, the grail is not a falling star; it’s a monkey’s paw. I’m never going to make it there. When I was removed from the Throne, something I was tied to in my first life was woken up, and now, it’s going to destroy everything. I have to stop it. I-I’m trying to.”

Apologetic, after a second he adds, “I’m afraid that’s about all I can say, though, without explaining everything.”

“It’s quite enough,” I reassure.

So, a Hebrew king, who knows magic, and was renowned enough to be placed on the Throne of Heroes, important enough to be tied to something dangerous in death. That does not tell me who he is, but it narrows it down to very few options. From his wit and diplomacy alone, I would have thought him Solomon, but that King had one-thousand wives; I cannot imagine him a man who was very genteel, or respectful towards those like me. He would probably be a terrifying man to be around… So, then who?

I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know, I remind myself, Unless that has changed, I should not try to figure it out, either. It erases the point of not knowing.

“Thank you,” I say, shutting the question out of my mind.

“I have to say though,” he says, giving a closed-eye, weak laugh, and rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m not exactly thrilled you could tell what I used to be, when I’m supposed to have a brand-new lease on life here. I didn’t realize something beyond my own screwing up and dropping hints was a thing I had to watch out for.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I believe I’m the only heroic spirit with this skill,” I say apologetically.

“Huh. What are the odds,” he says in the voice of a man who doesn’t believe in coincidence.

“Thank you for indulging me. It…puts my mind more at rest,” I say, hoping he will leave it at that. I stand and offer him a hand. “So please, rest now.”

He nods wearily, and lets me help him back to his feet, then flops rather unceremoniously onto the bed on his back, legs hanging off the edge at the knee, and looks up at the canopy.

“…Can you wake me, please? Let’s say…after two hours?” asks the Doctor. He fiddles with a watch on his wrist.

TWO hours? How little does he sleep?

But then, I suppose his situation is pressing, and I don’t know all of it yet. “Only two?” I ask.

“I’ve got a kid out there to take care of,” he tells me—I assume it’s the daughter he mentioned, “She’s alone, like I was – above ground, at least!” he adds, to reassure me I think, “But…”

There is such deep regret on his face.

I’ve seen him drop his guard a number of times now, and he doesn’t strike me as a liar—just…as someone who knows how to perform to survive—someone like me. My kindness to my husband was never a trick, it just was a need, not a want. This man is like that—but, every time he’s dropped his guard so far, he’s seemed a little less out of his depth, and a lot more heartbroken, than before.

“…It’s a war zone,” he says simply, turning his head to meet my gaze, “and she’s a child.”

Of course. That is simple, then.

I think if he’d given any other reason, I would have lied, and tricked him into more rest than he wanted to take, because his health is deteriorating, and he needs it. But, I understand destroying yourself for the person standing behind you, so I nod, and I mean it. “Two hours.”

Relieved, he smiles, then lays back and shuts his eyes.

I pick up his clothes, and use some simple magic to return them to a clean state, listening for his breathing to change. I can tell he’s not asleep—and I’m not surprised, as hard as sleeping under this much pressure is—but once it slows a little, into a more relaxed state, I begin to hum to myself, a poem by Ishaq al-Mawsili.

There is no real reaction from the doctor, so I begin to let magic seep into the song. I feel strange, doing this without something to hold in my hands. The absence of cloth or parchment is a missing shield. Still, I was designed for this, and I was specifically designed for using my magic on kings. He’s the ideal target.

After a few minutes, I increase the amount of suggestion and spellcraft in my voice. My words ease and lull, quiet, and reassure, and after another five minutes or so, I can tell from his breathing that he’s truly asleep.

Still humming, I go to the bed and listen carefully, just in case. The moment I’m sure, I increase the intensity of my magic astronomically, and layer on the heaviest sleeping spell I can. The man lets out a faint, worried sound, and moves his head fretfully, then is overcome, and goes still.

Relieved, I keep singing, mostly under my breath now, and conjure an hourglass. As the sand of two hours begins to fall, I carefully lift the doctor’s legs, which still hang over the side of the bed, and set them up on top. Gingerly, I circle to the far side, then climb up with him.

Alright.

Time to finally get some real answers.

With him all but dead to the world, I can finally get near enough to study him in detail and see what is truth, and what is performance.

His sleeping face is pale and covered in sweat, mud, and specks of blood. There is a faint, pleasant scent to his hair, some kind of soap, but it’s all but buried by the stink of decay in this place, and the metallic smell of blood. Placing the back of my hand against his forehead, I can feel the heat of a light fever. He is unwell then.

Careful not to hurt him, I unbutton the shirt he had on under his coat, and gingerly work it free of the dried blood on his stomach. Despite my best efforts, he makes a faint sound of pain, and frets a little in his sleep.

I can see why.

The wound itself is still fresh, unhealed—a circular tear about the size of an orange, just above his navel. The bloody surface is half-scabbed, and the skin around it inflamed and painful. A quick scan shows me that his intestines are healed, which is a relief. I suppose he must have just left the surface untreated, as it was a flesh wound, and he has such limited magic to work with.

Ah that’s right—he did the same for me, only, he slowly healed the rest of mine as we walked.

…And left his to fester.

… It’s not a serious wound, and I’m sure it will heal on its own—slowly. But it must be very painful

I break my singing to whisper, “You’re very pragmatic, Doctor, but you could be less so towards yourself.” Still, it’s reassuring to see. Very, very foolhardy, but reassuring; it means he did prioritize my safety above his, even though I’m a spirit and he’s a living man.

This is not a situation I was prepared to be in at all. I mean, I never feel prepared for a summon, and would greatly prefer to never be summoned at all, but even for me…

What should I do?

It feels so despairing, that thought. I find myself more and more inclined to believe him, but if he’s right, I am terrified of what that means. I was sure he would kill me, when I woke from that command spell. I was certain he would be a master like every other I have ever been called to serve, who would abuse and torment me, before discarding me and forcing me to lose my life. But, if he isn’t.

…

I watch his face for a moment, trying to find some kind of answer, but to what question inside me I am not sure.

He looks tired. It’s funny, in a sad way; when he was awake, he looked much more rested. He must have been trying to put a brave face even on that.

Now, he just looks like a man worked ragged, asleep on a bed. A very weak, very normal, very human person. Like anyone.

He isn’t, though.

If he’s telling the truth, he’s like me.

I don’t think…I don’t think in any world, I ever would be strong enough to win a holy grail war, but in some reality where perhaps I was impossibly lucky, I would have wished for the same thing: to escape this. To go home. To finally, finally be able to rest, without fear. Because rest with fear is not rest, it is just a different type of waiting.

And I am so tired.

I just want so badly to go home. To cross a finish line that doesn’t even exist anymore, and have done enough that I can be safe, and rest.

What a luxury, to close my eyes and not be afraid of waking up.

How sad, to so desperately wish for that of all things, and become instead a man at my mercy, who looks like this.

The world indeed is cruel, I think with a note of pity so deep in my chest it aches.

It has been so long since I was asked to be the person who could look at that truth, and be what the world will not. I hope I can still remember how.

Careful to keep singing under my breath so he will sleep well, I create some supplies, and clean the mud and blood off him the best I can, then clean and bandage his wound. I clean his shirt the way I did his other clothing, and then put it back on him. I do not wish to cross a line that might make him feel distressed, so I do what I can to use spellcraft to clean the rest of his clothes and skin without removing anything more. I’m sure it’s imperfect, but I’m also sure it’s worlds better than nothing, and it’s the best I can do. He is at least no longer soaked in blood, and the surface of his stomach wound is salved and cleaned and should begin healing. Finally, I get the muck out of his hair, and leave it brushed, then get him under a blanket, and go to sit on a cushion on the floor myself.

It's so easy. All of it. He barely fidgets while I work. If I had wanted to kill him, or to take his last spell while he was out, it would have been so easy to do.

I am in awe. The strength this man possesses to know that, and still choose to be here. I know the taste of bravery in helplessness, and it is a far cry from bravery with strength. It is unfathomably harder.

I rest on my stomach and watch this man with my chin on my arms. How can he stand it? It’s hard enough to live at all. How does he wade into a pool of terror in the pitch black night, and feel the ripples of things swimming beside him, and continue to wade?

…I wonder, how many nights it has been for him, since this began. How many days more than you should have, have you been able to live so far? And how many more do you need, to be able to finally rest. Can you see the finish line ahead? Or are you so far away, you have to take its word that an end exists at all? It must be crushing. So much power, so much experience, and trapped in a form like this, trying somehow to ignore both and find a third, better way. And why? Pity? Kindness?

…or, recognition, maybe.

You said you didn’t call me, I think, watching his sleeping face, You used your blood as a catalyst. And I can’t think of any Hebrew king I am blood kin of. But I had to come. I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

It’s a paradox.

Or, it’s a lie.

Unless, it isn’t… The more I have thought about it, the more I can see a third answer. We are in a land of the dead here, and he used a pool of the dead’s blood for the summon’s energy. So, maybe here, in a place of spirits, it was not his physical body or blood that was catalyst. Maybe, it was his spirit. Maybe…his after-life, is the most like mine. Maybe his spirit in a land of spirits, tried to call out to family, and my pain was the echo most similar.

It is true, I never say yes to a summons. I never will. I have only ever been dragged from the Throne against my will.

But, I wonder, if I had heard my own voice calling.

Perhaps I would have called back.

The half-dead man on the bed tosses weakly in his sleep, and his head lulls back, throat exposed. His pink-gold hair wreathes his face like feathers, and it makes me think of very, very old stories, as I watch his chest rise and fall.

Maybe I did.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

HUZZAH YOU FINALYL GOT SUBDAY YAYAYAYYA i unfortunately tapped out of hsr after getting e2 phainon wait did i tell u HAHAHAH I GOT HIM AT 80 PITY I WAS SO PISSED 💔💔 but im happy i won my 5050 AND YOULL ALSO GET E2 SOON DW #0PITY FIRST PULL e2 PHAINON and now unfortunately im broke as shart 🙁🙁

ill start playing again when i leave japan whcih is.. tmr 💔 STOP IM ACC KINDA SAD BC I ONLY STAYED WITHIN THE TOKYO AREA AND IM LIKE ARGGAGRGSGGRGGS but ive been wanting to go to osaka and kyoto for a while now.. i mean ik im going here again and my dad said that this was like a test run???? LMAO saying a vacation is a test run for future vacations lowkey sounds so weird but whateva those were his exact words..

the ppl here are quite nice (probably bc im in the more popular tourist areas) so thankfully i havent been like judged for whatever while ive been here bc it was one of my biggest worries trying to pack for this trip 🫠 OH I JS REMEMBERED ON THE TRAIN LMFAOOA OK SO MY WARDROBE THAT I HAVE FOR THIS TRIP IS JUST A BUNCH OF PINK DRESSES BC ITS ONE OF THE ONLY COLORS I ACTUALLY LIKE ON MYSELF (hehe my hair is slightly dyed pink as well!) and i love kirby so i was wearing my kirby bag w/ my xavier (love and deepspace) keychain and there were these two girls beside me and all i heard was “smthsmthsmthlalalalla OTAKU lalalHAHHAHAHAHHA (they start laughing)” and ik damn well theyre talking ab me bc i have lads stickers, a haibara + kirby keychain on my phone PLUS kirby bag i lwokey feel embarrassed but why should i be if its MYYY interests leave me alone 💔💔 i gen dont know what otaku acc means tho but ik its related to like anime and stuff like that to shame others now which to me is just kinda.. 🥸 no comment! anyway i did a bunch fo shopping here so nheuehuahue idc otaku weeb whatever I GOT GOJO STUFF can u tell i love gojo i dont think i expressed ym love for him enough

erererereterr wait im tryan remember what you said in your response to my previous one HAHAHAH WAIT IM BLANKING ALL I RMBR IS HOW U MOST LIKELY PROBABLY DID SEE ME er im one of suo’s moots!! if you remember that guy he got like art uh stuff and stuff exposing stuff yeah no clue what happened to him i saw the post and reblogged it but it kinda just walked away from my memory.. he would always send me weird asks which id always respond to bc idk I LIKE ANSWERING STUFF BUT LIKE some things were strange and all i could do is awkwardly laugh and go hahaha Yup! whatever u say! anwyay OH I RMBR i was following u waywayway before i met him so when i met suo i alr had like notifications on for when you would post so id be like hm whats that and i saw that he sent you an ask and my face went 🤯 bc lowkey he was everywhere he knew everyone AND EVERYTHING GELPME IT WAS JUST STRANGE HE WAS ALSO FRIENDS W THE PPL I FOLLOW

ok idk if anything i said made sense but im not gonna reread it over you got this you can understand my gibberish be fluent in uh the ways of the octopus idk..

- 🐙

HI FIRST OFF: I AM SO SORRY I TOOK SO SO LONG TO RESPOND TO YOU I HAD A PMS SPIRAL AND COULDN’T BE ON TUMBLR then i came back but i forgot i had old asks to get to AHH BUT THANK YOUUUU yes last banner was super good for me 🙂‍↕️ i am now a proud owner of: e2s0 phainon, e0s1 sunday, as well as e1 clara and e0 himeko HAHA (adding a cut because i type a lot)

I HOPE YOUR TRIP WAS AWESOME AND YOIR FLIGHT BACK WAS SAFE!! HELP i am pretty sure otaku just means someone who is super obsessed with something it’s not necessarily just about anime but it’s typically used to refer to anime?? it’s rude of them to talk about you when you’re right there but you are right you’re enjoying your trip so ignore them!! to be fair as someone who has encountered a lot of tourists sometimes it’s funny in an endearing way so it’s possible they weren’t being entirely meanspirited about it 🥹 BUT GOJO MERCH YAYYYYY a gojo fan being a phaichan fan is so funny to me like you really love those white haired blue eyed men huh /lh

PLSSS omg i remember that whole era with suo HELPME that was so crazy and yes i know what you’re talking abt wrt the asks HAHA yes it’s possible i would recognize you then !! and HAHAH dw it was all understandable i am fluent in octopusness TRUST 🗣️

[bobbiereynolds]

hello!! saw ships were open for the boys so i wanted to ask :)) atm ok with any character but the deep, homelander, and stormfront

i'm a bi & ace jewish brazilian girl, currently in college majoring in theatre & minoring in translation (i want to be a musical theatre actress and/or translator and/or writer). fluent in portuguese & english, currently learning french, and i have a life objective to become a polyglot (4+ languages!!). in love with theatre, literary analysis, linguistics, music, writing, and art in general — will absolutely ramble about anything i am interested in, and also might have strong opinions on stuff that maybe i didn't need to have a strong opinion on 💀 i can get a bit combative about that at times... i definitely take as my biggest skill, besides singing and acting which are quite literally my intended job, eloquence and just my way with words (toxic trait is believing i'd talk my way out of a murder fr fr). friends that know me more recently would even say i'm an extrovert because of that, but honestly i am a pile of nerves of an introvert with social anxiety that simply loves yapping and putting on a show. most notable quirk/habit might be how precise i always am with finding the right words because i simply cannot leave an opening for misinterpretation (and that's on anxiety and a suspicion of undiagnosed adhd oops); that might lead me to be a bit picky (for the lack of a better word), specific, and/or literal with the words other people use as well. also very proud of my music taste — from alt rock to 20s-40s music, i have so many vibes and i'm a bit of a playlist freak. also would 100% show brazilian music to whoever i'm paired with 💥🇧🇷

hope that's enough, thanks in advance <3

Hi my love! I ship you with: Kimiko!!! She loves how opinionated you are. It doesn't really matter what you're talking about, or if you feel like you should really have an opinion on the topic at all, she adores listening to the way your mind works. She finds your voice incredibly soothing whether you're talking or singing. She especially loves listening to you talk in all the languages you know, though she's got a soft spot for your Portuguese. She could listen to you go on and on and she does. She tries to teach herself a little at a time as a means of surprising you, writing down phrases she's learned, looking at you with this embarrassed grin on her face. You love her strength. Aside from her Supe abilities, Kimiko is one of the strongest people you know and you remind her of that every chance you get. She's been through a lot and came out kinder, sweeter, . It's impossible to think anyone would want to hurt her the way she's been hurt. She plays it off like it's nothing, but you know better than that. Your relationship is natural. Because of how particular you are with your words, Kimiko knows exactly what you want and how you feel about her. It isn't complicated like other relationships. There are no second guesses or doubts. When you need to talk, to work through something, that's exactly what you do. You and Kimiko become inseparable. Everyone knows you're a thing before you even tell them. The signs are obvious. They had a bet going for how long you'd try to keep it a secret. M.M. won. It's just easy being with her. It's simple. There is no drama aside from what you do for work and you know, no matter what, you'll get through it together. Your first date is kinda a non-date at first, but quickly turns into a date. You were listening to music at your desk when Kimiko comes in, asking what you were listening to. Because of how proud of your music taste you are, you're more than happy to share! Sometimes you'll switch off and she'll show you a song or two she recently found. Most of it comes from the rest of The Boys and their taste in music, they're a major influence for her. You two spend hours together, listening and talking and getting to know one another better. It's never an official date, though you both come to an understanding that's when you caught feelings for one another. Relationship Headcanon: You love learning Kimikos sign language. You pick up on it faster than anyone has before and you're almost fluent. Sometimes you mix up signs and that makes her smile, but for the most part you're a natural. She never doubted your abilities when it comes to languages. You love having your very own language together. It brings you closer of course, but it's also another way to show your love.

I really hope you like it!!! Xoxoxo💜💜💜

Wanna request a ship?

[wwouldvecouldveshouldve]

KEYSSS my dear mutual congratulations on 1K likes aaaah you deserve all of them! May I henceforth ask for a platonic BSD matchup? I go by she/her and I don't have a preference for which gender I want to be matched up with :3

Personality: I personally don't know what my mbti is, so I'll just give a short description of my personality. I find myself to be more of a listener, but with the right type of person (really quiet or someone chaotic) I can talk for hours. People say that I'm nice and smart, but I doubt myself sometimes. I am physically affectionate with my friends, and often flirt with them only if they're not in a relationship. My friends like to banter with me and I like to tease them/make them laugh, but if they like to sit in silence then I'm perfectly fine with that as well. Sometimes I am too sacrificial and am bit too much of a people pleaser, but I am working on setting down boundaries and saying 'no'

Hobbies: I like to read books more than I like gaming and watching videos. I also like to learn new things, no matter how hard they are, because I am quite curious about a lot of matters. I can speak English and Mandarin, and I am partially fluent in French. I also love to play the piano because I find it calming <3

Topics I like to discuss: Honestly I can talk about anything as long as it's not something that I'm uncomfortable with (which I only have a few). I normally like to discuss history, books, travelling, and any funny things that happened recently in life

Things I hate: I don't hate a lot of things because I am a firm believer of the quote that love transcends all animosity, but what I really do hate are people who willingly do bad things and do not feel sorry for it. I normally am quite forgiving, but once somebody crosses that line too many times without genuinely trying to improve, then they've lost their chance

Something that makes me unique: I'm actually more of a classics person than a contemporary person. What that means is that I prefer classic books, classical music, classic movies, and old history etc. I do like watching a modern film every now and then, but I find that nothing captivates me more than the antique things. I'm probably one of the few girls my age who is more caught up with the 1700-1900s than the 2000s ahaha. I also am more of a jewellery girl than a clothing girl, and my favourite jewellery is silver jewellery :)

Preference: I'm okay with being matched by a character that commits crime, but as long as they aren't too crazy about it

What I value in others: I value loyalty, respect, and communication in others, as I believe that those are the three key points of any relationship. Bonus points if I find them fun to hang around with, and that they won't twist my morals and lead me down a darker path

Something I can't stand in others: Honestly anything that makes a toxic relationship; dishonesty, disrespect, and not listening to what I have to say

Remember to take your time my dear, and once again congratulations on 1K likes! Let's get that to 1K followers >:D

SILVER I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!! I was almost done with it and then it was literally all lost, but I still got it done. thank you so much, darling, and I hope you don't mind the wait.

I match you up with Tetcho! he's a silly little man, please take care of him.

He loves listening to you. There is nothing he would rather do than listen to you talk about the things that you are interested in, and he is not affected by what other people have to say about your interests. He would be ticked off at anyone that judged someone for their preferences in media and entertainment. He would not force you to try his food, but if you do like any of the combinations he would be glowing with happiness for the rest of the week. He is always a little sunshine, though, and is nothing but supportive. He loves what makes you strange, and he loves that you love what makes him unique, too. He would not let harm befall you. He would rather be stabbed a thousand times than for you to get a paper cut, and would be even more devoted to justice after meeting you because he would want to make sure that no filthy criminals can hurt you. He would not let Jouno make fun of you or your friendship. He would probably stab his ass again, and would start doing it more if you found it funny. Either way, Jouno will eventually make peace with you. He would love to listen to you play the piano, and might even pick it up himself if he has the time. He could also learn another instrument solely so he could teach it to you. He would be a non-judgemental teacher but he would definitely be a little strict. Secretly, he is a little scared that he is too overbearing when teaching you things. Overall, he would value similar things to you in a relationship. He is an honest man who communicates well, if not sometimes too bluntly, but he would do his best to always respect you. If someone else is to disrespect you, however, all hell breaks loose. Jouno and the Huntings Dogs will obviously get lighter punishments, though, and I don't expect them to cross any lines. He would, without a doubt, try to keep you as far away from his occupation as possible. Your safety is his priority, and he could not live with himself knowing that he was the reason why you were targeted by a criminal group. He gets anxious about how you are doing, so he will send a variety of texts about how you are doing throughout the day. It's a little heartwarming knowing that you're always on his mind. Because of his constant worrying about your safety, he absolutely loves to hold you in his arms so he knows that nobody can hurt you. Sometimes, though, he just wants you to hold him instead because he is always dealing with things for other people and he just wants someone to do the same for him.

that's all for today, I hoped you liked it darling! <33 have a wonderful day or night :)

[thatstonedwriter]

hello!! since requests are open i'd love to request a ship for the boys <3

i'm a bi & ace jewish brazilian girl, currently in college in the us, majoring in theatre & minoring in translation (i want to be a musical theatre actress and/or playwright and/or translator). i'm 1.72m tall, have long brown hair that i've never dyed (i start thinking about it but chicken out), and no tattoos but very clear ideas of what i'd like to do if i ever got one. fluent in portuguese & english, currently learning french, and i have a life objective to become a polyglot (4+ languages!!).

i'm in love with theatre, literary analysis, linguistics, music, writing, and art in general — will absolutely ramble about anything i am interested in, and also might have strong opinions on stuff that maybe i didn't need to have a strong opinion on 💀 i can get a bit combative about that at times... i definitely take as my biggest skill, besides singing and acting which are quite literally my intended job, eloquence and just my way with words (toxic trait is believing i'd talk my way out of a murder fr fr). friends that know me more recently would even say i'm an extrovert because of that, but honestly i am a pile of nerves of an introvert with social anxiety that simply loves yapping and putting on a show. most notable quirk/habit might be how precise i always am with finding the right words because i simply cannot leave an opening for misinterpretation (and that's on anxiety and a suspicion of undiagnosed adhd oops); that might lead me to be a bit picky (for the lack of a better word), specific, and/or literal with the words other people use as well.

other tidbits: i can't cook for shit, i love cats (i have a rescue named lily) but also like dogs a lot, i love kids and have been told i'm good with them. i'm crazy lucky for some reason and i love crime comedy movies. i'm almost always writing or thinking about writing but i can't ever finish a project (and you may have realized now i write too much). i love arts & crafts & other manual activities, i do knot friendship bracelets to de-stress. my default hangout with anyone ever is grabbing coffee. i'm also pretty proud of my music taste — from alt rock to 20s-40s music, love curating the vibes and i'm a bit of a playlist freak. also i would 100% show brazilian music (mostly rock and mpb, brazilian popular music) to whoever i'm paired with 💥🇧🇷

hope this was good to write with and not too much oops 💀 and thank you so much in advance!! <3

A/n- Hello, and thank you for requesting! I'm so excited to write for a fellow theatre/language nerd! I wish you luck in school, and with your goals of writing and learning more languages. All of that is super impressive! Lots of love to you (and your cat omg give Lily plenty of hugs)

I'm pretty sure this is the first matchup I've ever done, so I hope you enjoy!

I ship you with...

Kimiko!

Your affinity with language and theatrics is what initially caught Kimiko's attention! With how much she appreciates art and music, your singing and acting is such an inspiration for her to express herself.

In the beginning, Kimiko had been incredibly cautious and closed off. When Butcher or M.M would talk shit, you and Frenchie would be the first ones to her defense. Your combative nature is inspiring to Kimiko- she loves how opinionated you are, and how willing you are to stand up for what you believe in.

I’d say one of the first things that got the two of you to bond is making friendship bracelets together. It started out with Kimiko watching you de-stress after a particularly rough encounter with a Supe. The repetitive motion seemed to steady your shaking hands, and Kimiko couldn’t help but wonder if making bracelets with you would help with her own stress and anxiety- after that, it's history

Kimiko's mutism definitely doesn't stop her from joining in the conversation. She began teaching you sign language not long after Frenchie. He would help give you additional lessons/practice.

I would imagine you pick up on Kimiko's SL pretty quickly, given your proficiency with language, but even if it took you a while, Kimiko just appreciates the effort and compassion, not to mention how clear and precise you are with your wording- A refreshing change to The Boys never really saying what they mean.

Your shy nature makes Kimiko pretty protective of you. Even knowing how combative you can be, Kimiko prefers to back you up, no matter what. Every time you say something, Kimiko signs either agreeing with you or emphasizing your point.

I think Kimiko would ask you to dance and sing with/for her all the time. She loves the variety of music you listen to, and can't get enough of your voice. Teach her some new dance moves and she'll be so happy

Dates between the two of you either consist of staying in and watching movies or going to get a quick coffee (you two have snuck out with Frenchie on more than one occasion, to M. M.'s dismay)

Bonus Ship- Frenchie!

It was honestly a tough tossup between Frenchie and Kimiko so I thought I'd add Frenchie in as a bonus, I hope that's alright

Obviously he'd love how passionate and skilled you are when it comes to language- absolutely helps teach you French.

Like Kimiko, Frenchie loves how artistically inclined you are. He'll join in singing and dancing with you, all in good fun. He's probably high as a Kite, so you can expect him to be a bit unsteady on his feet, but the enthusiasm is there

You're gonna get this dude hooked on Brazilian music. His taste is so varied that I think he'd have a great time being introduced to all of your music- even if he doesn't love it, he appreciates you sharing part of your life with him

Frenchie is more than happy to cook for you and teach you if you're interested- but mainly enjoys being able to take care of you, even if its something as small as making you breakfast

Bonus! You and Frenchie/Kimiko more than likely bring at least one stray cat back to the hideout- and no one is allowed to say shit about it or Kimiko breaks their arms

[nipahnan]

realistically , how is it like living in japan ? i am a POC so our experiences would definitely be different .. but are you fluent in the language ? how is everyday life for you ? do you have a job there or remote work overseas in the US ? sorry for all the questions !! i'm hoping to move to japan myself eventually . ♡

Aaah I’m so happy to finally get a question, I’ve been waiting to be able to ramble about myself on here thehe :) This is gonna be a long one, so I’m sorry in advance, but I want to try and be as transparent as possible!♡

I don’t live in Tokyo, yet I have a bunch of friends who live there and who talk about their experiences very openly, so I’ll also talk about things they went through and that they observed. In general people of course need to make sure not to romanticize a country. Japan is a country like any other and a lot of people forget that. I’ve been interested in Japan since I was around 11 years old and I came to Japan knowing about it’s good and bad sides because I did research about it for years. So coming here with very realistic expectations and not thinking I’m gonna live in a fairytale, I’d say it’s great so far! :)

Of course I’ve only been here for 1 year now, but it’s definitely so much better than living in Germany. It just suits my lifestyle and general personal behavior so much better. I never felt connected to people in Germany with the way they behave and so I’m having it way easier here. I definitely aim to obtain permanent residence status one day because I really believe that I want to enjoy my life here. I definitely feel like foreigners who move to Tokyo have it so much easier than people who move somewhere else in Japan, because there’s so much more English writing or people who try and speak English since it’s full of tourists too, so it’s easier to navigate without learning any Japanese. When I first landed in Japan I literally only spoke English and I was kinda shocked since I didn’t expect that at all tbh. I actually know a few people who have lived in Japan for years without learning any Japanese and it kinda baffles me sometimes lol. I definitely recommend coming here with at least some basic Japanese and then trying to gradually learn more, that’s how I did it and it’s been working very well. Im not fluent at all yet, but im able to have conversations and I’m learning every day and that’s what counts :)

I also know a lot of people who realized how fake Tokyo can be and decide to move away from it quickly because of them getting mental problems or their mental problems worsening, considering how awful mental help in Japan is. They’re feeling very lonely, overworked, and even get bullied. It definitely depends on the workplace of course. But as long as you make sure to make genuine friendships and realize that Japanese people can be extremely blunt and that their behavior is overall quite different, you’ll have no problem with them. There’s a lot of rules and there’s no way you’re always able to remember them, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Definitely try and act according to how they act and you will be welcomed with open arms I’d say :)

I currently don’t have a job because I got hit with a very hard illness right after 3 months of living here which resulted in me almost dying that I’m still recovering from. So I didn’t have time to work with how many times I was in the hospital, yet I’m having an interview soon and I’ll hopefully be able to start work in the next month if everything works out :)

I have a spouse visa after finally marrying my partner that I’ve been with for 4 years, so that made immigrating here way easier for me of course and I definitely realize that I was very lucky to get here that way. I only had to wait 15 minutes and immediately had my visa, meanwhile a lot of people say how long they had to wait because they had a different visa and of course because the Tokyo immigration is so much fuller than the one in Nagoya.

Everyday life is very chill, it’s very quiet so as a person who is very easily irritated and overwhelmed by loud noises it’s so much better for my mental health. yet again I don’t live in Tokyo and in a very tiny town (13.11 km² big lmao) so I have to drive to Nagoya for some of the „fun“ parts.

Now for some of the VERY annoying parts.

Stares. People stare at you ALL the time. Even tho I’m white, they love staring at me like I’m some alien because I have blonde hair and stick out like a sore thumb here in my city where there’s such a tiny amount of foreigners(basically 0 lol) I’ve noticed that people usually say that old people are kind of rude to them and how nice young people are, yet for me it’s the complete opposite at times. Old people, especially old women, love randomly talking to me and are generally very nice to me. There’s this older lady who works at my local family mart and she is sooo nice to me, always giving me compliments and everything, she is so cute♡ Meanwhile young people love staring and making fun of me because they often think I don’t understand them. I get comments like „she looks cute but she’s kinda fat.“ „do you think she even understands Japanese?“ and they giggle all the time. Sometimes they also take pictures of me in the train and it feels very rude. As someone who never stood out in her hometown and always trying her best to not get any attention, it definitely hurts to suddenly hear comments like that and basically feeling like a zoo animal at times. Yet I knew this would happen so I was prepared for it and I know I just shouldn’t care about comments like that. Now idk how bad it is in Tokyo but I can imagine it’s not as awful since it’s way more diverse? Yet you still hear stories about how this also happens very often to POC and sometimes even white foreigners who just happen to have a different type of style. So it’s definitely something to keep in mind.

Also about the topic of getting called fat. Japanese people LOVE to call you fat in your face. As soon as you’re over 50kg no matter your height they will probably consider you fat. One time I had to state my weight at the hospital for a scan and the lady literally yelled „…kg???“ and then proceeded to giggle to her male coworker. Considering that coming from the hospital staff, it was definitely shocking. Especially since I was literally about to die that day? I was so shocked and felt so bad considering I gained 10kg during that time only due to steroid medication which I literally had no control over. So I’d definitely say it’s another thing to be prepared for.

Their clothing style is also pretty different from the west, you’ll see a lot of long skirts and blouses or sweaters. Tight fitting clothes or clothes showing of a lot of skin aren’t as common here and it definitely makes you stick out. One time I was wearing a tank top under a jacket and didn’t close the jacket all the way while going to get takeout and some school boys sitting at the table loudly made a comment about how giant my boobs are and didn’t stop staring and it made me insanely uncomfortable to which I immediately just closed my jacket. Most uncomfortable encounter I’ve ever had and made me stop wearing shirts that show cleavage lol.

Also there’s of course a lot of sexual harassment here, especially in Tokyo. There’s literally guys just staring at 🌽 that you can see in the reflection of the train window (I even saw that in person one time, absolutely insane) or just straight up jerkin off. They literally have posters at my train stations telling women to pay attention to their skirts because there could be someone taking pictures of your panties. So if you intend to wear short skirts you always have to wear shorts under it if you don’t want some pervert to take a panty shot of you. At this point they even have hidden cameras in their shoes which is just insane to me…

Overall, don’t believe most things those tiktok or YouTube videos from tourists tell you. They often times don’t have any knowledge about Japan or how it is to live here, often give misinformation or are just straight up romanticizing this country to the max. All my friends and me even absolutely hate these travel vloggers at this point because of how much bs they’re saying :,)

To sum it up: if you have enough knowledge about the country and the people, prepare yourself as much as possible and realize that it’s very different from what you’re probably used to, and most of all, that it’s just another country that you’ll be living in, you’ll definitely love it here! :)

I definitely could tell even more because I had so many crazy encounters already and so many cool places to talk about, but I think I’ve been talking long enough now :D

Hope my ramble was a bit helpful for you（╹◡╹）♡

[lgcyubin]

here to present (bad trumpet playing noises) the illustrious kim yubin whooohoooo (crickets chirping) please like this post if you're down to plot and i'll mosey over to your tumblr ims. i have a discord if that's easier (tho i am slower on it) - just lmk and we can swap usernames :) also clearly bandwagon-ing so i may be even slower here, but i made a twitter since it's come up a few times! i'm also still (slowly) reading through event stuff but to the extent anyone's still looking for event partners please hmu!

better known as jamie (not james) kim, kim yubin's a california boy who's found his way to seoul with lukewarm dreams(?) of becoming a kpop idol.

quick tl;dr of his relevant journey: joined lgc in july 2021 by sheer happenstance. it's been two long years and he's still not sure if this is what he's allowed(?) to do, but for now he's trying to dabble in a little bit of everything to figure out what he likes, and works his ass off regardless of what he does bc it's in his nature. he doesn't have a self-declared focus, but his (current) penchant is for rap.

vs. what he'd put on his hinge profile: fluent in english and korean, the proud owner of two on-and-off dimples that may as well be a craters, and his t-shirt's made of boyfriend materi—

family bg: born to an affluent family of doctors. literally. all doctors, all successful, all brilliant. he's the youngest of four (three older sisters) and the black sheep of the family because he's... well, not exactly studying for the mcat right now. he's smart and hard-working, but certainly doesn't think he is - growing up in the shadows of steep expectations will do that to ya.

for as critical of himself as he is, however, he likes to keep most of his neuroses strictly to himself. you will not get him to be vulnerable without an ample amount of kicking and screaming.

self-inflicted mental saw traps aside, yubin comes across as remarkably... well, unconcerned on the outside. he's a flippant person who has zero issues making small talk with complete strangers. he's candid, straightforward, and he's got a wicked sharp wit and a penchant for dramatics. he's a funny guy! sarcasm is his crutch! and he'd much rather you laugh at or with him than see him cry.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

in desperate need of: friends. and specifically: friends who will put up with him whipping his head around dramatically every time you whisper "look at the hot person behind you but don't make it obvious" (he would be such a good wingman fyi)

best friends! but just a couple, max. he's a closed off person so if he did have any best friends that might have a better grasp of the inner workings of kim yubin, it's a limited number, and you've probably known him since he joined lgc (or longer—he's not a seoul native, but he was in town most summers). fair warning that he will be calling you his work wife/husband (it's a show of affection).

at the back of my mind, he is very loudly like "i would rather die than have feelings for someone" so naturally i feel inclined to write out a terrible ex plot. or a crush plot. or both. any breakup with him was probably messy and might be accompanied by some resentment (at least from his end), and any crush he could possibly have will be saddled with internal conflict. let's give it up for being unlovable!

no one's seen him cry except maybe a close friend or his sisters but you happen to catch him at the worst possible time and he is now avoiding you like his life depends on it. even if it means hiding behind a potted plant the second he sees you down the hall.

someone go on a perilous hike with him where you end up terribly lost and start to think you may have to spend the last moments of your life in each other's company so you might as well dish out all of your regrets and dashed hopes, right? it's not like you're just meters away from the path you were supposed to be on, right? good thing neither of you are drama queens, right???

if you would like to entertain the idea of having an inconsequential crush on the most charmless guy alive, please do so because he'd be so so uncomfortable with the concept of it and it'd be funny.

familial connection — he joined lgc back in july 2021 with his cousin (female), and she is 100% the reason why he's here. he's all about tough love and being mister sass pants so no one figures out just how much he cares about them, but he would do just about anything for his family and he's especially close to her.

[seyoonlgc]

A new project? The company was looking for eligible male trainees? Hell yeah, of course, he would be auditioning!

Seyoon straightened his shirt, smoothed down his jeans, ran a comb down his messy blonde hair, and waltzed into his interview session. He chose a morning slot because the sun gave him POWER and he intended to outshine his competition to the best of his ability.

"Good morning," he greeted, bowing his head with a smile. "I am Kim Seyoon, here for my interview!"

Why are you interested in being in NEWKIDS NEWDREAMS? [135]

Let's start with a refreshing bit of honesty then, shall we?

I want to be famous, wanna be a star, and be in magazines. Also want to see the world, drive nice cars, and have groupies-

No, that would be too much honesty.

"This project is a debut opportunity and will give me a chance to fulfill my dream of becoming an idol. As a hopeful trainee, I would be kicking myself if I didn't try to take advantage of every opportunity I am presented!" If this project was called OLDMEN OLDFARTNIGHTMARES, Seyoon would still be auditioning. As a man who worshipped at the altar of beauty, Seyoon was very well aware of just how fleeting youth was. He only had a few years to make his debut happen, otherwise, all of these past years spent on training would have been a waste of time.

"While we don't know much about the project, I do think the concept would fit me, judging by the name alone." Seyoon laughed. "To me, New Kids sounds like the company is looking for younger trainees. People who give off a bright, energetic vibe maybe. I think I am a good fit for that!" If there was one thing Seyoon did not lack, it would be stamina. He was constantly bouncing off the walls, and if they observed him in the practice room, they'd definitely see that aspect of his personality.

"Also...I guess I just want a chance to be seen at my best," Seyoon admitted brightly. "I want my parents, grandparents, and younger brothers in Canada to hear the new songs I learned. And my high school friends, scouts buddies, and fried chicken shop regulars too." My mother also. I want to be so goddamn famous that she could not avoid the sight of my face because it would be everywhere. I want her to know despite the fact she won't acknowledge me, I exist.

Considering the current confirmed members, what can you add on and off the stage? [160]

"Off-stage...Uhhh...I mean, I know all of the people in the group and get along with them? BK and I are friends." Fellow partygoers, yeehaw. "I've worked with Noeul on different things before. Misaki and I are buddies, we were also dormmates before. I love Wenjun so much- Sorry, am I answering this question wrong?" Seyoon tapped on his temple, prompting his noggin for more useful tidbits. "Right. I got in a workshop about commercial acting and was pretty good at that so maybe when we are not performing as a group, I could pick up commercials or minor acting roles to boost our popularity?"

"On stage-wise, I can bring my energy, enthusiasm, and good singing! From what I can remember in the practice rooms, BK and Noeul are good rappers. Misaki is a strong dancer, and Yichen is an excellent performer. Wenjun sings beautifully but no group could stand with just one great singer, right? There was always room for another! Oh, also, I am from Canada and fully fluent in English. Do we need an English speaker?"

which skill do you want to be known for & why? [163]

"I would like to be known for my singing because that's where my talent lies, I believe." Seyoon rubbed the back of his head. "I've been singing since I was a child. No lessons, of course, we couldn't afford those since my parents ended up having more kids than they initially planned, and my grandfather on my dad's side was not in good health. I was always in some sort of choir though. Both in schools and at the church. My stepmom always told me I had a far-reaching voice." He made quotations with his fingers. "I think what she meant was she could always hear me from all the way at the back of a room. But if I debut, then those words could take on a different meaning - my voice would be far-reaching because it will be heard by more people and maybe touch some hearts." He laughed. "Seriously, the moment I make it into a permanent group, I am going to call her and tell her that she's predicted it...That she had special powers and knew all along."

what kind of concepts are you good & bad at? [86]

"When it comes to concepts, I think I can do cute, energetic...dark too. Oh, I don't think I will excel at elegant. I am not going to lie - I am not really the princely type." Instead, he was a questionable man who hid his unwashed shorts under his bed and constantly had mud on his shoes. "I think that has to do with growing up on farmland. Sometimes expensive restaurants and formal events can make me feel out of place. I can learn, though! Just put me through a few classes and show me an example of how I should behave. I am a fast learner, I promise."

what kind of group would you ideally want to be part of and why? [87]

"Group-wise, I think being known for great live vocals would be nice because I love those performances the most." He thought about it harder. "To be honest, I just really want to be in a group that is...successful." Would he risk sounding too ambitious with that? "I enjoy groups that have great live vocals. The ones with strong stage presence are amazing too! Ultimately it won't matter, though, if the group doesn't last. Ideally, I would want to debut in a group that has longevity. One that is versatile, can adapt to the trends, and stay relevant for as long as possible."

Seyoon just wanted money. Sometimes he wondered if it was wrong of him to be focused on the financial aspect when a good number of the other kids were entirely invested in their dreams. He supposed everything would be different if he was like some of the other trainees in this company. CEO connections, famous parents. Waving around their black cards while waiting for their chauffeurs in their well-tailored coats. They had more opportunities. If this whole idol situation failed, they could start businesses, go back to school, or even just lie around because their parents could afford to feed them for the rest of their lives. Ugh, sometimes he felt so envious of those people that it hurt.

And that was the end of the interview.

"Thanks for the chat," Seyoon said, bowing first to show his respect, then straightening his back to do a big over-the-head heart. "I am sure there will be a lot more trainees interviewing after but don't forget me, okay?" He grinned. "I really want this!"

[cataztrophi]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by: @noodyl-blasstal thanks!!

Tagging: @fandomsnstuff @duck-newton I think a lot of people have been tagged already but if you haven't pls consider this an invitation to answer these as well!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2 currently, but I plan on putting up my TAZNC work at which point I will have 15!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

4,680 right now, but that number will increase by a lot shortly since I think all my TAZNC works were between 1,000-4,000 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

TAZ, and I've got a few Owl House things in the works I hope to finish some day.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Show Me Yours, then The Thing With Feathers

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I love receiving comments and I love being able to talk a bit about what I was thinking when I wrote things.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't usually write a lot of angst, but probably this unnamed ficlet because nothing really gets resolved at the end, although it is a fairly hopeful ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It's hard to pick, I write mostly things that leave a lot of possibilities open, but I'd say probably my 10th entry for TAZNC this year (man I really gotta name these things) because I think the emotional journey makes the ending more satisfying.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! I've only gotten very kind words and I'm extremely grateful for all of them.

9. Do you write smut?

Yup. Nothing I'm quite finished with yet but I have several in the works and I hope to get some posted soon

10. Do you write crossovers?

They're not really my style, but I think they are fun to think about and play around with!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, and I'm small enough right now that I think it's unlikely.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I've heard of

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I did once on a previous account, unfortunately I was very bad at finishing anything at that point in my life and I hadn't gotten on ADD meds, so we didn't finish it (my fault). I'd like to co-write something at some point, but I think I'd need to have more practice with writing/finishing longer stories before I felt confident about doing it again.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Taakitz babey! Top tier meet-weird plus some truly beautiful moments, and such a great dynamic to play around with

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'm not sure I'd say "never," but there is one Taakitz fake dating fic that I would need to seriously rework in order to make it coherent. I hope to finish some version of it someday, but it certainly won't look like the current WIP.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Boy I wish I knew! Someone told me I have a "lyrical" writing style, so I'll take it! I do really like working with the flow of words. Also I wrote a lot of tender romantic scenes when I was a touch-starved closeted high schooler, and I was surprised by how easy those scenes feel to write in my current work.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a tendency to write too much lead-in and too much ending if I'm not careful, so I basically have to chop off the first and last bits of every fic. I am very bad at coming up with plots. I worry a lot about capturing characters' voices and can struggle with differentiating them. And as previously mentioned, I tend to start a lot of things and not finish them, although I think I'm improving in that regard!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm very wary about it for myself. I could just about manage French but for anything else I'd want someone fluent to look it over for me.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Good Omens, back before the TV series came out! It was a pretty small fandom at that point, and I had to get my Aziraphale/Crowley angst out somewhere when I only knew like three people who'd read the book

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I'm really proud of my TAZNC work, but I think I'm still proudest of The Thing With Feathers because I feel like I did exactly what I wanted with it and captured everything I was hoping to.