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teatime-tangents-and-toys · 3 months ago

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Interesting Monster High design things that are never explicitly stated:

* Unlicensed vampires are all some type of pink-skinned for some reason, including related species like the manananggal

* Clawdeen, and by extension, other werewolves, never wear silver metals, because that weakens them. The Wolfs only wear gold jewelry and accents.

* Lagoona's sporty theme aligns with the use of mesh fabrics to make a pun about fishnets

* Wydowna Spider's hairline is a widow's peak and one of her hands is in Spider-Man's web-slinging shape

* Twyla's eyes glow in the dark on most editions--common knowledge, but Mattel has never told buyers about it on her boxes!

* Twyla is a boogeyman and her costume designs all feature antique architectural details and imagery of things that might be in a scary bedroom at night, like wallpaper patterns, doorknobs, bugs, and beds, while her outfits often resemble pajamas

* The two G1 pop star characters are a witch and a black cat, and a witch and cat were also a Create-A-Monster duo

* The Grant sisters' monster twist on genies is to make them plated like desert scorpions

* Elissabat's face is deliberately highly similar to Draculaura's, but their sculpts have been determined to be different--this when MH has used shared sculpts for more distant-looking and disparate pairs of characters!

* The Blob and Ice Girls are a Create-A-Monster duo because freezing was the one weakness of the Blob monster

* Deuce and Cleo as a couple invoke the synergy of snakes and Egyptian culture, the famous Cleopatra being Greek, and Cleopatra being stated in legend to have died by snakebite--similar reasons a mummy and Gorgon were paired in the Create-A-Monster sets

* Operetta is from New Orleans because it's a uniquely French area of the USA, tying her into the original setting of the Phantom of the Opera

* The manufacturing code on the back of Skelita Calaveras' original head mold is a custom sequence made to depict the name "KATRINA".

This refers to the tradition of carving a name of honor into a Dia de Muertos sugar skull, and may also reflect La Catrina, the iconic Mexican skeleton woman in the wide hat often seen in the holiday's imagery. Other dolls have these stamps on the backs of their heads with meaningless sequences of letters and numbers which are never meant to be seen, but Skelita's stamp was used for a purpose. I've checked her dolls after G1 (starting with her first collector doll in 2016), and they have a generic code stamped in and have lost this detail.

* Viperine Gorgon has distinct visual hallmarks of both human and serpent albinism, and her use of sunglasses could correspond with sensitive eyes from the condition, though she's never stated to have the condition in any material.

* Great Scarrier Reef's transformations: Electric-powered Frankie became an electric eel, Draculaura became a vampire squid, and tigerlike Toralei became a lionfish. I've heard Clawdeen was based on a wolffish, but can't be sure that was actually clear. Gil turning into a ray may be a pun with manta and manster? No idea if Lagoona was based on a specific fish or not. Nor why she even had to transform in her native territory for any reason beyond making a new doll.

* Bonita Femur's color palette is based on the rosy maple moth, which is as implausibly candy-colored as Bonita. Luna Mothews is absolutely not actually a luna moth, but could be loosely based on the cecropia moth, the largest in North America and found in regions that could include New Jersey where she's from (or West Virginia, where the Mothman is from). Her yellow exoskeleton also loosely resembles the hornet moth, but may not intentionally be based on it.

* Mouscedes King, Luna Mothews, and Elle Eedee are a primary yellow/red/blue trio but also a past/present/future trio based on an old fairy tale, a current cryptid legend, and a speculative idea of future tech

* Headmistress Bloodgood's first name was eventually revealed to be Nora, an iconically Irish name that may have been chosen to liken Bloodgood to the Irish folklore of the dullahan, another "headless rider" monster.

* River Styxx is a young-adolescent Grim Reaper ghost who is partially translucent, revealing bones in her limbs and having a more opaque face that looks like thin skin over a bony structure. This creates a fun possible worldbuilding idea that reapers start as ghosts with skin and it fades as they develop, becoming full skeletons in classic Death style when mature.

* Peri and Pearl are conjoined Hydra sisters, obviously reflecting a rare human scenario of conjoined twins through the Hydra monster concept, but also possibly being influenced by the animal phenomenon of snakes being born with two heads in an even Y-shaped structure.

* Elle has a separate sculpted panel on her hip where her factory stamp is placed, canonizing the real-world manufacturing artifact as a real/literal/diegetic feature on the manufactured robot character.

* Corazón Marikit's red fringe blends the two halves of her outfit, but also stands in for the gorier imagery of dangling intestines and entrails when the manananggal monster's body splits at the waist. She does have a spine coming out of her upper torso as the peg that clicks her pieces together, but the dolls aren't brutally gory, so her costume alludes to the folklore's more extreme imagery in a graceful way.

* Scary Sweet Birthday Cupid is the only doll in the SSB collection whose cage element is under her skirt rather than on top of it.

This placement and its rectangular silhouette make the cage functional rather than decorative, replicating an old-fashioned crinoline frame used to internally shape big skirts, and its wide boxy shape matches some rococo skirt silhouettes, suiting the other elements Cupid has drawn from the rococo aesthetic, even before G3. Victorian-steampunk Robecca Steam has also worn cage elements that invoke a crinoline without a skirt to be shaped by it.

#monster high #design details #monster high g1 #dolls #fashion dolls #mattel

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ghostlynightpanda · 1 month ago

Note

Oh! I have a thought for a request! We know that's is hard to find supplies on the borderlands, and I was thinking, stick with me this will make sense, what if the reader wear glasses? We rarely see characters who needs glasses to see and it's probably bc it's harder to survive the games with them, they could fall and/or break at any brute movement. So how would the aib characters deal with a reader that lost their glasses? Maybe they fell during a spades game and somebody stepped on them, or fell into a hole or was damaged in an explosion, you decide. How would the characters help reader deal with that?

I for one can't imagine myself surviving a game without my glasses, I could barely recognize faces and expressions, everyone becomes a colorful blur. My vision is not even that bad but I can't walk on the streets without it.

AIB Characters react to Reader breaking their glasses

content/warnings: Ann, Kuina, Mira, Aguni, Niragi, Last Boss, Chishiya, canon typical blood and violence, 4.749 words

Ann

You didn't even hear them crack.

The sound was lost in the chaos—shouting, gunfire, the scream of metal grinding against metal in the collapsing corridor of the game arena. One second you were ducking behind Ann, fingers tight around your only remaining advantage in this hellish game, and the next… the world went soft. Fuzzy. Like smudged ink bleeding across the page.

You blinked. Squinted.

And knew instantly.

Your glasses had fallen. Worse—they were crushed. Flattened under the heel of some panicked player's boot.

The rest of the game was a blur in every sense of the word. You stumbled, crawled, followed vague silhouettes and muffled directions. The only thing you were sure of was Ann's hand, gripping yours tight, pulling you through the chaos. Her voice—sharp, calm, clear—cut through your panic like a blade.

"Left—now!" "Down—duck!" "Stay close. Don't let go."

You didn't.

You survived.

Back at the Beach, someone handed you a bottle of water. You accepted it automatically, still shaking, half-blind. Everything was warped and distant without your glasses. Faces turned into colored blobs. Text on walls and signs meant nothing.

"You okay?“

You knew it was Ann, but you still turned toward her voice like a moth to light. Her presence was the only thing solid in your broken world.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean… no. I'm alive, but without my glasses…" Your voice trailed off. You didn't need to say it. Everyone here knew survival meant playing again. And how were you supposed to play if you couldn't see?

Ann was quiet for a moment, watching you. You couldn't read her expression—could barely make out her features—but you felt the weight of her gaze.

"I'll figure something out," she said, finally.

You didn't ask her what she meant. You were too tired. Too demoralized. So you just nodded again, fingers twitching where they rested against your thigh, trying not to imagine how it would feel to die in a blur.

Days passed.

Your vision didn't magically improve.

You managed to avoid any games, resting on the few days of grace your high-card win had bought you. But the anxiety lingered. Games would come again. They always did. This world didn't care if you couldn't see.

Ann had gone on a supply run. She didn't say much when she left, but you knew her well enough to know she was planning something. It was in her silence—the kind that carried weight, like a promise unspoken.

She came back later that night, dust-covered and tired. You were sitting in the corner of the common area, legs pulled close, world still blurry and detached.

You sensed her before you saw her clearly.

Then she crouched in front of you, a large tote bag thumping onto the floor between you.

"What's—?"

"I couldn't find real lenses. The optician's were just displays—no prescription." She opened the bag. Inside were glasses. Dozens of them. Different frames, shapes, colors.

"I went through every apartment near the Beach. Checked drawers. Cabinets. Nightstands." She picked up a pair—thick, black-rimmed—and handed them to you. "Try them. One of these has to be close."

Your hands trembled as you reached for them.

The first few were wrong. Too strong. Too weak. One made you dizzy.

Then… the sixth pair.

You slid them on, and the room snapped into place like a jigsaw piece clicking in. It wasn't perfect—edges still ghosted slightly, and there was a faint pressure at your temples—but it was enough. More than enough.

You saw Ann. Truly saw her.

Her eyes. Her smirk that wasn't quite a smile. The tension in her shoulders releasing all at once.

"Ann," you whispered.

"Don't get used to it," she said, her tone teasing but soft. "I still expect you to watch my back next game."

You grinned, a real one, for the first time in days. "Only if you don't mind me stealing your kills."

She shook her head, chuckling. Then, to your surprise, she reached out and adjusted the glasses gently on your face.

"You look better with them anyway."

You froze. Then, smiled wider, heart thudding.

The world was still dangerous. The games would return.

But right now? You could see. You were alive. And Ann was here.

It was enough.

Kuina

The game was supposed to be easy.

A mid-level difficulty. A club card. Strategy and teamwork. You'd worked out the plan with Kuina and the rest of your group. It should've been clean.

It wasn't.

The moment the arena started shifting—metal panels rising, walls rotating, lights flickering—you lost your footing. You tumbled. You heard the crunch before you felt it.

Your glasses.

They were gone in seconds. Crushed beneath your boot or someone else's. You didn't even get to see where they landed. All you knew was that suddenly, the world became an indistinct smear of color and shadow.

You froze.

"Y/N?!" Kuina's voice rang out. "Where are you?!"

"Can't—can't see!" you shouted back.

You could barely make out the glowing walls, the puzzle locks. Everything was noise and motion and indistinct threats. Your hands trembled.

But then—familiar fingers curled around your wrist.

Kuina.

"I've got you," she said, breathless. "Stay behind me."

She dragged you through the rest of the game, dodging deathtraps, barking out instructions, never letting go. You survived by inches, by luck—and by her.

You earned four days of life.

But that didn't solve the problem.

Back at the Beach, Kuina helped you sit down on the bed in the room you shared. You rubbed at your eyes, trying not to look as defeated as you felt.

"Kuina…" you said, voice low. "I can't play like this again. If it's a high ranked card, or anything where I have to find clues… I'll just be dead weight. I can't see."

She sat beside you, silent. The room was dim, and you couldn't quite read her face—but you didn't have to. You knew she was thinking. Planning. Worrying.

"I wish I could go out there," she muttered after a minute. "Find you new ones. Hell, even just scavenge for lenses close to your prescription."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "It might take weeks to find glasses that would fit my eyes."

"I know," she said, biting back a bitter laugh. "And the second I try to sneak out, someone like Niragi catches wind and I get shot before I hit the gate anyway."

Silence hung for a beat.

Then, she stood abruptly.

"I'll figure something out. Just… wait here."

The next few days passed with a slow kind of dread. You stayed mostly in the room. You tried to listen for whispers of upcoming games. Kuina came and went, always bringing you food, updates, the newest gossip for no real reason other than to distract you.

Then, one evening, she came back holding something in both hands.

A handmade box.

"What's this?" you asked, blinking.

Kuina gave you a little grin, clearly proud of herself. "A project."

She opened it and pulled out… glasses.

More than one pair.

Frames without lenses. Toy glasses. Reading glasses. Old, cracked sunglasses with the tint scraped off. Cheap magnifiers. A pair that looked like it came from a Halloween costume.

"None of them are prescription," she admitted. "Obviously. I've been trading favors for anything even close. Some of these are joke glasses, but—" she paused, lifting one pair carefully. "—this one? I asked around. Some guy said his roommate had near-sightedness. I got these from his stuff after he went missing."

You took them, hands shaking slightly.

Slipping them on… it wasn't perfect. But it was something. Enough to see outlines. Expressions. Shapes. Kuina's face came into partial clarity. You could see her eyes again. See the exhaustion there, but also the hope.

Your breath caught.

"It's… actually kind of close," you said softly. "I can— I can see you again."

Kuina leaned back, a tired smirk on her lips. "Told you I'd figure it out."

You blinked rapidly, fighting the sting in your eyes.

"You're amazing," you whispered.

"Damn right I am." Then, softer: "You think I'm gonna let someone like you die just because this world's garbage? No way."

You smiled, finally. Then reached for her hand.

"You're kind of blurry," you said, squeezing her fingers. "But you're the best thing I've seen all week."

She squeezed back.

"Guess I'll just have to stay close, then. In case you get fuzzy again."

And she did.

Mira

You always knew games were dangerous here.

But this one… it was different.

It wasn't the rules. Those were almost laughably simple: follow the trail of lights through a hall of mirrors and reach the end before time runs out.

No, the danger wasn't the trap.

It was the mirrors.

And the sound of your glasses hitting the floor.

You'd been turning a corner when it happened—someone slammed into you in a panic, and the frame snapped right off your face, skittering somewhere into the maze of reflections. You dropped to your knees, hands scrambling blindly.

But all you found were glass shards.

Your glasses were gone. And you were effectively blind.

The world warped. Mirrors became illusions. Lights blurred together into meaningless halos. You could barely tell where one corridor ended and another began.

You were done for.

Until she arrived.

A laugh echoed through the mirrored halls—light, melodic, and unmistakably amused.

"You poor thing," came Mira's voice. "Stumbling through a puzzle meant for sighted minds. How tragic... and yet, so very entertaining."

You froze, turning your head toward the sound.

"Mira?"

Another giggle. Then her silhouette appeared—reflected and multiplied across a dozen mirror panes, each slightly out of sync.

"Would you like help?" she asked, appearing directly beside you now, her heels clicking softly on the marble. "Or would you rather keep crawling in the dark?"

"I…" you hesitated. "I can barely see."

"Yes," she said with a smile in her voice. "I noticed."

A soft hand reached out and took yours.

Mira led you through the maze with terrifying ease, whispering directions like riddles. Sometimes her voice came from behind. Sometimes beside you. Her grip never wavered.

"Left. No, not that left—my left." "Duck. There's a low beam ahead. Well, I assume it's ahead." "Oh, did you flinch? You're adorable when you're afraid."

You didn't know whether she was mocking you or helping you because she was genuinely invested. Maybe both.

But she never let go.

And when the game ended—seconds before the final buzzer—she tugged you into the last chamber with an effortless flourish, as if this had all been planned.

Back at the lounge of the Beach, the high of survival wore off. Your hands still trembled, your eyes strained. Mira sat across from you, legs elegantly crossed, swirling a glass of wine she'd somehow conjured up from nowhere.

"You're very lucky," she said. "Some people lose their sight and die minutes later. You? You earned three whole days."

"Not sure I can survive the next game like this," you muttered, rubbing your eyes. "Not unless someone guides me again."

Mira hummed.

"You could always ask."

You glanced at her.

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "I do enjoy games… especially with interesting partners."

"I'm not very useful half blind."

"You're more interesting blind," she said, smiling like she knew a secret you hadn't discovered yet. "Stripped of control. Vulnerable. Honest. It makes you… real."

You swallowed hard. Mira had that effect. Like peeling back skin with a smile.

Then she rose, walking over to your side of the room.

"I can't leave the Beach," she said casually. "Too important here. But I have persuaded some… associates to do errands for me."

You blinked. "Errands?"

She pulled a small velvet pouch from her jacket and let it drop into your lap.

Inside: lenses. A few cracked. Some pristine. And one pair of glasses—an old, worn frame with prescription lenses that made the world snap into partial focus when you slipped them on.

Close enough. Close enough to see again.

Your breath caught. You looked up at her.

"You—how did you…?"

Mira's smile widened. "I made a game of it," she said simply. "Bet a few players they couldn't find anything useful in the city ruins. Told them I'd reward the ones who brought back the rarest item of all—'the gift of sight.'"

"You manipulated them into doing it."

"I prefer the word motivated."

You laughed, more from disbelief than humor. "Why?"

She leaned in, eyes glinting like polished glass. "Because I wanted to see your face… when you looked at me clearly."

You froze.

Mira didn't wait for a response. She reached out and adjusted the glasses slightly on your face, the touch uncharacteristically gentle.

"There," she whispered. "Now I have your eyes. And you… have mine."

And for the first time in this twisted world, the game didn't feel like death.

It felt like something far more dangerous.

Hope.

Aguni

The second your glasses slipped from your face, you knew it was going to be hell.

The lens cracked as it hit concrete. The frame didn't stand a chance under the boot of some panicked player bolting for the game's exit. You barely got out alive yourself—vision blurred, stumbling through chaos with only outlines and instinct to guide you.

Now, days later, you still couldn't see much.

Life in this world was brutal even when you had all your senses. Take one away, and it was practically a death sentence.

You rubbed your temples, sitting in one of the Beach's corners, a vague smear of color that might've been a book in your lap, unreadable. You heard someone approach—heavy boots, steady stride.

Aguni.

You didn't need to see to recognize him.

"Get up," he said gruffly.

You blinked up at his silhouette. "Huh?"

"Supply run," he said. "You're coming with me."

You opened your mouth, baffled. "I'm practically blind without my glasses, remember? Unless you want me to walk into door or step on a mine—"

"I said, get up."

And that was that.

You hated every second of it.

You bumped into walls. Tripped over broken sidewalks. Got tangled in a chain-link fence.

Aguni barely said a word the whole time. He just kept moving forward, making sure you stayed close. When you fell behind, his hand found your wrist, yanked you forward like a stubborn dog refusing to leave a leash behind.

"You could've left me behind, you know," you muttered at one point, panting. "Could've grabbed stuff without dragging me through half the city."

"You'd just sulk," he grunted.

"Is that your version of being thoughtful?"

"Shut up."

The glasses store was mostly looted—display cases shattered, frames long gone.

You stood near the counter, squinting hopelessly at a wall of smudged posters and shelves of nothing, while Aguni moved with quiet purpose through the backroom.

It was quiet for a long while. You leaned on the dusty counter, ready to suggest they leave before nightfall when you heard it:

The scrape of plastic against wood.

Then footsteps.

Then: "Catch."

Something landed in your hands.

A bulky, awkward frame.

You blinked down at it. Black plastic. Thick sides. Round lenses with a weird rotating mechanism—test lenses. The kind optometrists used to find your prescription. Definitely not made for comfort. Or fashion. Or reality.

"What—?"

"Best they had." Aguni came into view, holding a dusty box full of those test lenses. "You can swap 'em. Find ones that work."

You stared at the strange contraption in your hands, heart thudding.

"You really went digging for this?"

"I said shut up," he muttered.

Still, he waited—silent, arms crossed—as you fiddled with the lenses, clicking a few in. You cycled through them, eye by eye, testing combinations. After about a dozen tries…

Click. Click.

The world sharpened. Not perfectly, but close. Close enough to make out the faded letters on the broken sign above the counter. Close enough to see the faint smirk tugging at the edge of Aguni's mouth, even as he pretended not to look directly at you.

You blinked rapidly. "Holy crap. I can see again."

"Good."

You turned to him. "I look ridiculous, don't I?"

"Worse than usual," he said with zero hesitation.

You snorted. "Screw you."

"Better. You're annoying again." He started walking. "Let's go."

You followed, adjusting the ridiculous test-glasses on your face, one hand brushing the frame with something almost reverent. They pinched your nose. The lenses sat at odd angles. You probably looked like a half-mad inventor.

But for the first time in days, you could see the path ahead.

And Aguni—walking just ahead of you, his wide shoulders cutting through the dust, never once looking back, but never leaving you behind either.

Not once.

Fashion could wait.

Niragi

You didn't see the bat coming.

Just the blur of movement—too late to dodge—and then the sickening crack of pain, followed by darkness. Not unconsciousness.

Just blindness.

You hit the ground in the middle of the game, one hand fumbling at your face. Your glasses were gone, flung somewhere into the death trap around you, likely in pieces. You scraped at the floor, heart racing.

Nothing.

The world was just vague outlines now. Colorless smears. Shapes without meaning. You heard someone scream. Something exploded. You were useless—dead weight—if someone didn't help you.

And Niragi had no reason to.

Except he did.

Because minutes later, he grabbed your arm, yanked you behind him, and barked, "Stay close, dumbass."

You couldn't see his face, but his grip was iron. His voice was tight. He didn't let go.

Not once.

The game ended. You lived. Somehow.

Back at the Beach, the adrenaline faded. You slumped in a hallway corner, your eyes sore from squinting at everything, trying to navigate a world that had blurred into impressionist chaos. You felt helpless.

You hated it.

You didn't hear Niragi approach. But you felt him when he dropped something into your lap with a sharp, "Try these."

You blinked. "What—?"

"Just do it."

Your fingers fumbled over a pair of glasses. The frames were a little crooked. Scuffed at the edges. You slid them on.

Too strong.

He tossed another pair at you.

You tried again.

Too weak.

Another. And another.

You went through six pairs before you slipped on one and the world clicked. Just enough. Your surroundings came into focus—not perfect, but real. The texture of the wall. The grit underfoot.

And Niragi.

You looked up at him. His face, finally in focus again. Sharp jaw, burnt-scarred skin, intense eyes locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You blinked fast, a grin tugging at your lips. "I can… I can see. Oh my god."

He scoffed and looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, well. Took you long enough to find one that works."

"You actually—?" You trailed off, squinting at the other pairs of glasses beside you. Different styles. Different shapes. Some with tiny blood spatters on the lenses, some bent out of shape. "Wait. Where… where did you get all of these?"

He didn't answer.

You sat up straighter. "Niragi. These—these were other players' glasses, weren't they?"

He tilted his head. "Why the hell do you care?"

"If someone died for me to be able to see again—"

"They were dead already." His tone was cold, but there was heat just under it. "They didn't need these glasses anymore. You're not dead. You need them more."

You swallowed. You wanted to argue, but you couldn't deny the warm feeling spreading through your chest as you looked at him, clear and sharp and real again. You were finally out of the fog. You could see him. Really see him.

"You're a psycho," you whispered.

He leaned in, that dangerous smirk returning. "Yeah? But I got you what you needed, didn't I?"

You didn't say anything. Just reached up, lightly touching the side of the glasses, then met his eyes.

And smiled.

A real one.

Warm. Grateful. Soft.

Niragi's breath hitched just a bit.

He hadn't expected that. Not really. He was ready for fear, or anger, or guilt. But not this. Not the way your smile looked when it was aimed straight at him, when you could see every inch of him and still smiled like that.

He didn't say a word.

Just turned, stalking off with a muttered, "Keep them. You break 'em, I'll kill you."

But his ears burned red as he walked.

And in his pocket, he kept a list—of the buildings he hadn't looted yet, of every pair of glasses still left to try. Of every player left to kill who wore a pair that might fit you better.

Because seeing that smile again?

Yeah. That was worth killing for.

Last Boss

You didn't mean to break them.

But when the blade sliced past your face during the game, and you flinched instinctively, your glasses slipped from your nose and hit the floor with a crunch under your own boot.

Panic.

You dropped to your knees, hands scraping at glass shards, your heartbeat spiking like you'd been shot. In a way, you had — just not with a bullet.

You were useless without your glasses.

The game wasn't even that hard. But now, everything was blurred: the floor, the timer, the outlines of the other players rushing around. Shapes with no meaning. You barely made it to the end alive.

Only because he found you.

Last Boss.

You didn't know his real name. You weren't sure anyone did. You'd seen him around the Beach, gliding through the halls like a ghost with that tattooed face and body and the ever-present katana. He didn't talk much.

But in that moment, as you sat on the cracked tile after the game, breathing like your lungs were full of sand, he crouched in front of you without a word.

And handed you your broken glasses — both lenses cracked through like spiderwebs.

You couldn't even tell where he came from.

You didn't expect to see him again after that.

But a few days later, he found you. Again.

You were sitting on the rooftop alone, squinting at the horizon. Just vague color and shadow. You heard the door creak open. Light footsteps. The soft jingle of steel.

Then: clink.

A pair of glasses was dropped into your lap.

You stared down at them. Then up at the man standing over you.

Last Boss said nothing.

The glasses weren't pretty. Big square frames, smudged and scratched. They looked like they'd been taken off a corpse.

"Where did you—?"

He tilted his head, one shoulder lifting in a vague shrug. His eyes were unreadable behind the black tattoos.

You hesitated… and put them on.

Wrong. Too strong. You blinked and winced.

Another pair dropped beside you.

Then another.

You turned. He had a whole pouch slung across his hip — filled with glasses. Some bent. Some blood-stained. All stolen, no doubt, from the ruins of the city, maybe even from dead players. But you didn't ask.

He stood patiently as you tried them, one by one. Every so often, he leaned forward to adjust them slightly on your face, rough fingers surprisingly gentle.

Finally, you found them.

Not perfect. But close enough. The lines of the world came back into focus. The sky, the rust of the rooftop rails… and his face.

Sharp. Pale. Half-shadowed by his messy hood. That tattoo curling across his skin like a whisper.

You stared at him.

And smiled.

"Thank you," you breathed. "I… I can actually see you now."

He blinked slowly.

Then he crouched again, arms resting on his knees, gaze locked on you with unnerving stillness.

"I didn't do it for thanks," he murmured.

His voice was low. Rough. The kind of voice you had to lean closer to hear.

"Then why?"

He tapped the side of your glasses, just once.

"So you don't die."

That was all.

But the words hung between you like a thread pulled tight. And you realized then: someone like him doesn't bring you dozens of glasses for no reason. He doesn't carry weight he doesn't care about.

You mattered to him.

He just didn't say it. Didn't need to.

He stood again, trousers rustling from the movement. His hand ghosted over your shoulder on his way past. Like a promise.

And even long after he disappeared back into the stairwell, you sat there, the glasses firm on your nose, blinking at the horizon.

Seeing clearly.

For the first time in days — and maybe longer.

Chishiya

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes after the explosion was smoke.

And then… nothing.

No sharp outlines. No people. No clarity. Just a world that had turned to haze.

Your glasses were gone. You didn't even see where they landed — only heard the crack of the lenses underfoot as someone scrambled past you. That was it. Your ability to see, and with it, your ability to survive, shattered in an instant.

You made it out of the game with sheer luck. Blind, stumbling luck.

Back at the Beach, you holed up in one of the quieter rooms. You could barely find the door without help. There was no way you'd survive another game. Not like this.

You didn't tell anyone. You didn't want pity. You were terrified.

So when someone knocked once and let themselves in without a word, you braced yourself for mockery or dismissal.

But it was him.

Chishiya.

Expression unreadable. Movements efficient. Carrying something small in both hands — a box and a pair of frames.

You stared blankly at him. "What are you—?"

"I heard you broke your glasses," he said simply.

You blinked. "I—yeah, but how did you—"

"Doesn't matter." He walked past you, setting the box on the desk like he'd done it a thousand times before. "Sit."

"…What?"

"Sit," he repeated.

You sat.

He opened the box. Inside were dozens of lenses, sorted by power and curvature. The type used in optical clinics — trial lenses. The kind you'd only find if you knew where to look, or more importantly, if you knew what you were looking for.

Chishiya adjusted the chair so you were directly under the weak overhead light. Then he stepped close — too close — and gently tilted your chin upward.

"Look straight ahead," he murmured. "Don't blink."

His hands were steady. Quick. Familiar with the task. He swapped lenses in and out of a test frame, quiet as he worked.

"You've done this before," you said softly.

He didn't stop moving. "Internship. Ophthalmology rotation. I was bored most of the time. But I remember how to measure someone's prescription."

You blinked through another lens. Too strong.

Next one — almost there.

"Hold still," he said, tapping your jaw lightly.

And then… it clicked.

The world sharpened.

You saw his face — up close, calm as ever, eyes focused. The detail in the white strands of his hair. The soft lift of one eyebrow when he noticed the shift in your expression.

"That's the one?" he asked.

You nodded, stunned. "Yeah… how did you—?"

He clicked the lenses out of the tester and into the waiting frame, fingers delicate, precise. "Most people wouldn't know how to insert a lens into a frame without cracking it."

He handed them to you.

You put them on, slowly. The weight felt familiar. Comfortable.

Everything snapped back into focus.

"You—you actually fixed it," you whispered. "I can see again."

He didn't say anything.

You looked at him — really looked at him, now that you could. His face, stoic as ever. But something had softened in his eyes, just for a second.

"…Why?" you asked. "Why go through all this for me?"

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "You're competent in games. You're better alive."

But his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than it needed to.

And you smiled, just slightly. "Well. Thanks for the investment, then."

He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway.

"Oh," he said over his shoulder. "Don't lose them again. I won't make another pair."

But you caught the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he vanished around the corner.

And somehow, you knew:

He absolutely would.

Masterlist

#alice in borderland #Ann x reader #Ann Rizuna x reader #Kuina x reader #Kuina Hikari x reader #Aguni x reader #aguni morizono x reader #niragi x reader #Niragi Suguru x reader #last boss x reader #takatora samura x reader #mira kano x reader #mira x reader #chishiya x reader #Chishiya Shuntaro x reader

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