#I WILL SAY . JUST LIKE. ITS SO FASCINATING.

[yuurei20]

"Vil has possibly never acknowledged having friends, or even school friends." I'm confused. Are you talking in that one event or in general? If it's the latter...what? Vil has said that Jack is his childhood best friend, and seems to be friendly with Rook, possibly seeing him as one. That statement contradicts the canon.

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 👑🐺

I have not been able to find a line of Vil calling Jack his childhood best friend ("best friend" itself seems to be a word that has only been used four times in the whole game!), but if you happen to have a chapter or screenshot it would be very much appreciated! Always happy to update with the most accurate information m(_ _)m

The closest I was able to find is Vil's ceremonial robes vignette where he refers to himself and Jack as "同郷のよしみ," but in this case the word "friend" might be oversimplifying the nuance of what he is actually saying: Vil is acknowledging that they have something in common--their hometown--without referring to Jack as his friend! He is acknowledging their pre-existing connection without implying friendship or an emotional bond.

EN chose to go with "old friend" for this particular line, but it is not uncommon for EN to introduce the word "friend" into dialogue where it does not exist, which is why this series is based on content from the original game rather than the adaptation :> English adaptations will often simplify nuances for accessibility!

EN uses the word "countryman" earlier in this conversation, which I think is a perfect interpretation ♪

The realization of how very rarely anyone actually says "friend" (and Yana's interview where she says that the theme of the game is making problem children get along with one another) was the inspiration for this series!

Malleus, for example, has never referred to the prefect as his friend, but the word was not only added to his EN dialogue but the word "human" was replaced with "acquaintance"!

Between Halloween Year 1 and Halloween Year 3 Malleus promotes the prefect from "acquaintance" to "friend" in relationship development that hasn't actually happened in canon! Which I find fascinating ^^ The EN game really is its own unique experience!

Returning to Vil: he does seem to be friendly with Rook, but he has never actually said out loud that they are friends!

This does not mean that they are not actually friends, but refusing to acknowledge friendship aloud is also a theme:

Ace seems to be friendly with the prefect, for example, going to Ramshackle alone late at night so that they can watch horror movies together, but when others comment on how they are friends he will deny it 📝

Ace: "We're just in the same class. You don't have to read anything into it!"

It has been very interesting to track which characters seem adverse to the concept of friendship and which are not--are things building up to a climactic moment where characters like Malleus, Vil and Ace actually do admit that they have friends?

(In a mirror image of Ace we have Deuce, who is one of the only four people who have ever said "best friend" 👀📝)

I am certain to check new content as it releases for examples of anyone saying "friend" aloud and am updating this information as the characters evolve ^^

Am very excited to see if there will be character development and/or plot points in the future where the characters finally do refer to one another as friends!

[notashadowbutawave]

I honestly think a lot of this is just in the text with Tommy's dialogue to Buck - about how he doesn't have community like Buck has at the 118, about how he wasn't always out but came out later, how working under Gerrard was oppressive, how he doesn't have a great relationship with his father, how he hasn't always been comfortable with himself. They actually are pretty directly calling attention to this in the majority of Tommy's scenes, I think! It's fascinating to see what they did with such limited screen time and dialogue. Lou Ferrigno Jr is turning in a really sensitive and nuanced performance with not a lot of material to work with, and based on how many times they raise these things, I do think that's kind of the MAIN thesis of his character. But what's really great about it is that he's not REDUCED to that - he seems to have a pretty rich lived experience, he's funny, he has hobbies and interests and obviously he's a badass firefighter helicopter pilot.

maybe I give the writers too much credit but I do think they find these nuggets of real human experience to wrap into the drama cycles and horror effects and over the top disasters and to me that's why the show works so well. like it has an honesty at its core and I think Tommy is a very very good example of that, and one that maybe rings truer for many of us than, say, Hen and Karen, whose stories are very much about them as mothers. (I think there's a different conversation that needs to be had about how 9-1-1 doesn't have a queer femme story that isn't made more palatable by making it about family domesticity, but this show is of course ALWAYS about family, especially found family and messy family and blended family, because it's Americana propaganda at its core)

but yeah - for those of us who maybe didn't explore our queerness meaningfully until we had already started establishing ourselves as adults, for those of us who don't have kids and don't know what the future looks like for us in that way, for those of us who grew up being called slurs simply because we were different before we even knew we were queer... yeah. That's a fucking amazing character to put in your primetime procedural soap. I love and need more Tommy Kinard in this show. And Lou is really knocking it out of the park. Just outstanding work by him. get him in a gay romcom NOW

You know, as clunky as Josh's Glee speech was, I really think the SPIRIT of it reveals just why Tommy is such a divisive character, and I honestly think it's because Tommy is AT LEAST an "elder millenial" and possibly late Gen X (cause fuck a timeline am I right?) and portrayed pretty accurately to that experience, and a lot of the people who are so rabidly against him are much younger. And they just cannot fathom the world that queer millennials, elder millenials, and Gen X grew up in and had to survive in. Like, the rules were different guys. So, so different.

So yeah, it makes perfect sense to me that Tommy resonated DEEPLY with a lot of older queer people and a lot of younger people just don't understand why he would.

[eurydicees]

oh dont apologise i loved your essay 😭 and i 100% agree with everything. Theres such a innate theme of choices and consequences in wicked the musical and its so fascinating to me how choices made by all the characters have such profound consequences at the end. And fiyero’s choices are no different in the way they alter the trajectory of multiple characters.

He is really the only one i can think of who sacrifices everything for elphaba and does it all willingly. How do you like elphaba and then dislike the one character who was ready to give up his whole life and everything that came with it for her 😭

Twitter is very binary in that regard honestly, and its such a shame that they miss out on some pretty interesting character analysis about their favourite characters bc they decide to be so rigid and weird about other characters who had an impact on their faves. Couldnt be me lol, making multiple threads about a character you hate. I also think something else is at play here but dont wanna say it publicly lol but given your other responses i think you’d probably agree.

And yes totally agree about dividing the film in two parts - i can only hope the film watchers stick around for part 2 and see fiyero’s whole arc

thanks for the ask! also i wrote another fiyero ted talk. if i were like charles dickens or whoever and i was getting paid by the word to write about fiyero, i could be so goddamn rich btw.

anyways, choices and consequences!!!!! like that's the whole thing!!!!!!! and the way our choices affect and change other people!!!! fiyero isn't an exception to any of that!!!!

you're so right that fiyero is truly the one who makes the ultimate sacrifices for elphaba. like glinda loves elphaba, she absolutely does. but she isn't able to take on the work and life that elphaba chooses in defying gravity.

when it comes to the things that are most important to her, glinda prioritizes comfort and reputation over, like, morality and principle. and the thing about glinda is that she actively makes this choice. she chooses not to go with elphaba. she wants elphaba to succeed, but she's not brave enough to join her. in order for glinda to find the bravery to take up the work elphaba starts, she has to lose everything that actually matters. and she has to be complicit in her own losing of those things.

fiyero loves elphaba to the point of sacrificing all of those things that glinda can't resist. the day with the lion cub, and elphaba's general influence on him, changes fiyero profoundly in a similar way that she affects glinda, but fiyero finds the bravery to act on all of that. the difference is that he doesn't get the choice to go with her until mid-act 2 after wonderful.

in thank goodness, there's that one exchange between fiyero and glinda where they say smth like "you just can't resist all of this" "well who could?" "you know who could, and who has." and he's talking about elphaba, he's talking about how she had all the love she ever wanted at the tip of her fingers when she met the wizard, and she chose to let it go because she saw the ugly parts of the wizard's world. and this exchange is so clearly boiling it down to "elphaba resisted the temptation of being universally/publically loved and glinda did not." which tbh is something so in character for a person who has never had that, and a person who has always had that and thus doesn't want to leave it behind.

ok i was going somewhere with this but i don't remember where. just. fiyero isn't a perfect character. and for SURE the choice to erase gelphie's romantic subtext from the book when adapting it for broadway was an act of homophobia. but if we're just looking at musical canon, fiyero is brave enough to give up everything first to save elphaba, then to go with her, and then to protect her. and so-called elphaba stans don't think that's good enough. which is CRAZY to me.

also like. he's literally not the comphet love interest. sorry you didn't mention that but i keep seeing people throw those words around and like that's not what's happening here guys. elphaba loves him. she sings a whole song about it. multiple, even.

comphet implies that she mistakenly thinks she loves him because society has molded her into believing that's how she should be (fyi if anyone's experiencing that, it's glinda but i digress). elphaba, who notably has never been able to comply to the mold society makes for women, because she's never been pretty white woman enough to be afforded a place in that society? you mean that elphaba?

guys elphaba just...loves him. that's all there is to it. she loves him when she realizes he's more than he thinks he is, more than the airs he puts off. she loves him when she feared he might have changed, she loves him when he proves he did change--for the better. she loves him when he sticks by her, when he chooses her. she loves him when he's a fucking SCARECROW. ("go ahead, touch, i don't mind" "you're still beautiful" lives in my head rent fucking free).

when she has her breakthrough "okay. fuck this world that has never been good to me, if you want me to be wicked, i'll be wicked" moment, it's because she loses fiyero. she gets betrayed by nessa, and she fails dillamond, and she loses fiyero--and it's then that she loses sight of what good she had begun fighting for. it's a love for fiyero that drives most of no good deed (broadway songs of all time btw). like sorry but you dont sing someone's name like that if you don't love them. that's just musical theatre rules. trust me i was a theatre major.

anyways. sorry for that detour. back to the point. twitter treats everything as so black and white which is crazy because this is a revisionist musical about how evil isn't black and white. like?????? whatever. imagine being so bitter about a character you dislike that you want to change fundamental pieces of your favorite character so that he isn't relevant.

look. gelphie is great doomed yuri and i support that so hard. but dont try to tell me fiyero isn't deeply important to elphaba and to understanding elphaba's character. tbh the love triangle here isn't fiyero choosing between glinda and elphaba. it's more like elphaba choosing between glinda and fiyero and what either of them represent to her (glinda and working within the system, or fiyero, and abandoning it).

and hot take maybe but like ultimately--as someone who has never been conventionally accepted, as someone who has been hunted down to be murdered, as someone who has been the victim of a smear campaign and propaganda against her character/intentions, all of which was in part driven by glinda--she was always going to choose fiyero.

i respect gelphie shippers, i do. in another world, maybe one without the wizard, they could've been so happy together. i'm with y'all. but given canon, even if all others fall, i will be the last fiyero defender standing. god i hope movie-only fans watch part 2 and at least learn to RESPECT him. at the bare minimum. please. please. please.

[talon-dragonbeast]

do you ever think about theories of origin? i do. sometimes i like to look into all the different explanations for alterhumanity that ive seen in the past, just for fun. of course, all my identities are still psychological, so i dont even need to think about this on the first place... but shower thoughts are shower thoughts, and pondering things for fun is a hobby of mine.

my favourite theory of origin is, undoubtedly, the soul misplacement theory. the notion that, before you were born, a soul was placed inside your body, one that didnt match the one that was "supposed" to inhabit the body... so, for example, if im a dragon, the theory says that the soul of a dragon was mistakenly put in this human body, and that this soul was supposed to go somewhere else (maybe a parallel world, a different dimension/plane of existence, or just a different planet very far away from here) but is now trapped here.

i dont know, i just find it very sweet. if you think about it, this theory requires the belief that somehow, somewhere, there is a world where dragons exist (and also, it requires you to assume that your human soul, the displaced one, is now in a dragons body in this other world, which i find hilarious). this theory is in itself very comforting to those who uphold it, because it makes you able to believe that, no matter how bad this life is, theres a world out there where you could live or have lived the life of your dreams. maybe you are able to remember what this life is or was like (through noemata or past life regression), maybe not; but you know that it could be out there, and that is enough.

it also lays out some very interesting questions: if this was a mistake, how is that possible? who puts souls inside bodies in the first place? is it a god? some other higher being? if it is a god or something similar, does this mean that gods are capable of making mistakes? is this theory compatible with other religious beliefs, or is it a religious belief on its own? what even is a soul? what will happen to my dragon soul when i die; will it go to a dragon body like how it was supposed to in the first place, or will it remain trapped in this plane of existence forever? do all dragonkin come from the same "dragon world", or are they different ones? and if they indeed are different ones, does that mean that dragons are common enough in the universe that there are not one, but multiple worlds with dragons out there? are dragons the crabs of the universe? this and other questions i yell into the void, because i know that by their very nature they wont have one single answer, and because everyone is different every being will have different theories for their own existence.

other theory which i find fascinating is the parallel life theory. not because of the theory itself, but because of the implications of it. if your soul, your mind, your counciousness or whatever, was really able to exist in two different realities at once, what would this mean for psychology, for science? are only some brains especially wired to jump from one world to another, or is everyone capable of doing so with the right training? in these other lifes, would you retain the knowledge from this one, or would you lose it every time you switch between worlds? and also (and forgive me if this may sound insensitive, this is a rhetorical question and not meant to have an answer), which one of these worlds would be considered "the most important one", or even "the real one"? is it the first? is it the one you discover later in life? is it the most "mundane" one? the one you like the most? i think this theory leaves more questions than it answers, and while that may work for some people it does make me somewhat uneasy, as if there is more to learn about it. but thats just my personal opinion.

and finally, the Everyones Otherkin theory. this is of course the funniest one and the one i would most wish to be true, mainly because i wholeheartedly believe that it would make a better world this way. it would also explain some things like the "spirit animal" phenomenon from a decade or so ago, or the fact that almost all humans unconsciously align themselves with animals/mythical creatures/objects/colors, in some way (via archetypes or symbolism) throughout their lives. its true that sometimes i like to assign kintypes to the people i know, but i only do it for my own strange amusement and would never take it more seriously than i should.

so yeah, while none of these theories apply to me, i still like to think about them from time to time because i believe theyre interesting. so, just out of curiosity: whats your theory of origin? whats your favorite one (regardless of if you believe in it or not)? and finally, whats the weirdest theory that youve come across over your time in the community?

[weirdsociology]

I am genuinely not trying to sound like a dick here and I'm not mad I promise

but uh Dorothy Dunnett is not a romance writer although i certainly see why you would think she is based on the way we talk about her 😂😂

but more importantly! casual use of Harlequin as a thing not to be like is exactly the kind of bias I'm talking about! which, understandable, bc everybody does it, but also just, kind of wrong!

all that variety i pointed out before? that's the stuff harlequin (and imprints like it) publishes. there are many many fair critiques of their business model. the fact that romance is the single largest category of books sold, for instance, means that publishers like harlequin put time pressure on authors that is in my opinion a labor rights issue. and they prioritize white straight romance over diversity as most large publishers do. also they focus on category romances which are a specific thing with their own genre rules. but those are not "harlequin is trash" critiques, they're "harlequin as a capitalist endeavor" critiques.

the reasons people think of harlequin and romance novels more generally as a punching bag for poor taste are many, but there's a couple things that stand out:

- romance's primary writers and consumers have always been women, particularly teenaged girls and middle aged women, and since the inception of the modern novel there have been concerns about the deleterious moral and intellectual effects of "frivolous" (e.g. entertaining and interesting to women) fiction

- as the most popular genre of book produced by a large margin, there are unique market forces pushing romance towards publishing new work as fast as possible, which can lead to lower-quality or less polished product. also there's just more of it, which means more bad books and more good books.

- romance is the genre that probably responds the most to cultural norms, partially bc of the pace of publishing and partially bc of its character-driven focus. it's in constant dialogue with how we think about gender and sex and class in particular, and can both reinforce and deconstruct social dynamics in the kinds of stories it chooses to tell. but unlike say, scifi, which gets the treatment where we look back on 1970s scifi and want to know why it is the way it is, warts and all, we just dismiss romance as bodice-ripping and don't ask ourselves why it was written that way and what readers were getting out of it. (for instance, i could go on ALLLLL day about why it was so common for male main characters to sexually assault female main characters in 1950s romance and how that intersects with the kinds of social scripting and power dynamics women were dealing with in their own relationships with men, but i won't.)

- our culture thinks anything with a happy ending has lesser value for some reason

anyway the history and sociology of romance as a genre is fascinating and there are multiple books written about it. if romance is a thing you want to explore more, i highly recommend the lovely podcast fated mates which does not shy away from talking about the more batshit stuff (sentient object romance!) but also takes seriously romance's importance as a genre.

i will now dismount this hill i promise

Saw these tags, directed at me, on my post about how the romance genre is almost always a bunch of drama and with no actual relationships until “the final moments” or sometimes never at all:

The ace/aro hate on this website is still thriving, y’all.

Anyway, time to go show this to my boyfriend of many years to let him know that Generic Tumblr User #8762901 says we’re not in a relationship anymore because aro people aren’t allowed to date…😔

[ask-elliot-doorman-fam]

(Hoo boy this one's long. This is a CHRISTMAS ask. I'm just sending it early to make sure it's received and made aware of in time. It's also meant for PRESENT DAY, not future. I say that for a reason.)

Spectre goes around Sanctuary, leaving various gifts for certain drones in the colony.

The first box is labelled "N." Inside is a toy dog, like the kind you'd find at a Toys R Us. The second box is labelled "Uzi." Inside is a potted Venus Flytrap and some supplies for caring for it. There's just a single wrapped item labelled "Bolt and A.K." Unwrapping it reveals a copy of "Dragonology: The Complete Book of Dragons." A larger box is labelled "Bishop." It contains a small mechanical owl, about 12 inches tall. It's intelligence level appears to be at the same level as a Sentinel, and Bishop is registered as its "Owner." The next is labelled "KittTera" and consists of two items, one large and one small. The large item is a rechargeable back massager. The small item is a sort of fidget toy in the shape of a bat, with 3 segments that can be turned around. It's attached to a key ring large enough for a drone to put a finger through. Lastly for the Elliot-Doorman family, there is a lone box, the label simply reading "Koba." Inside is a small plushie of Shadow the Hedgehog.

A tiny box for Kiara contains a rather excessively secured snow globe with a scene reminiscent of the cities on Copper-9. There's a crank built into the bottom that, when twisted a few times, starts a built in music box which plays "Fly Me To The Moon."

A small pouch tied with a ribbon has V's name on it, and contains earplugs as well as a copy of Doom. Lizzy also has a pouch, this one containing various sewing supplies.

A small box addressed to Nico contains a necklace with a purple gem carved into the shape of a butterfly. There is also a hastily written note on a scrap piece of paper inside that reads "Not a proposal."

Finally, she goes to a random area in the forest, far away from Sanctuary, and places down an open box containing several drone cores. Looking up, she shouts, "Just don't ask how I got them."

(I hope to god I didn't make any mistakes in this. Happy Holidays!)

N squeals at the toy dog, grinning like a madman as he dances around with it.

Uzi smirks at the carnivorous plant, immediately dropping an insert into its awaiting maw and watching it snap shut, she giggles mischievously.

The twins tear open the package and immediately start fighting over the book; A.K eventually wins and hides away somewhere to read it without his brother- he steals it back later, don't worry.

Bishop gets stars in his eyes as he gushes over the Mechanical Owl, tail wagging so hard he sends some of his research into the air.

When Tera opens hers, she smiles, putting the massager aside for later and immediately playing with the fidget toy, tail flicking and eyelights wide in a simple kind of fascination.

Kiara opens hers and shakes it, having never seen snow in her life, she smiles happily, it gets wider when she hears the song.

V immediately downloads Doom to herself and plays it, laughing maniacally, she stashes the earplugs in her bedside table.

Lizzy seems excited about her own gift, and the pouch itself... she wants to turn it into a baby supply bag... go figure.

Nico, holding his new fiancé's hand, opens his and laughs at the note, his smile falls initially, before his visor wells up in tears and he smiles. Holding it in both hands and blubbering over it like a baby. "Mariposa...."

As for the drone cores. As soon as Spectre walks away... they dissappear like they were never there to begin with....

And the last present... confuses everyone. Tera looks at it, turning it in her hands before looking at Kiara, who also shrugs. They decide to put it in a box- perhaps it will make sense later...?

When Koba is born...where both girls are sitting on the bed, frazzled and stressed and breathless. Tera remembers it, as Koba spends his first night in an incubator surrounded by doctors and nurses and family trying to keep him alive- after multiple moments where his core stopped beating...

And she opens the package to stare at it, choking out a mix of a sob and Iaugh. 22 year old Tera and 23 year old Kiara hold each other as they hold on to the hope that the gift means that everything will be okay...

Happy Holidays!

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[eydilily]

would you bite the hand that feeds you?

[rahuratna]

Court, firstly, let me say just how happy I am that you're finally taking your steps into writing. I just know that whatever you write, your creativity, scientific acumen and storytelling capability will take us on one hell of a journey. I'd love to take that journey with you as your reader.

This is such an explosive and imaginative beginning! The concept of the titular 'hollow angel' is such a fascinating one once you dive into the idea that she essentially is a curse driven by a never-ending emptiness, a literal black hole that requires constant feeding with the pain and loneliness of others. I also LOVE the visual aspect of her metal wings.

Going a little deeper with the wings, the visceral nature of their shape, the way they fuse with skin, their blade-edged surfaces, the fact that they can cause pain to both her and her opponent, is all so immaculately painted. The imagery of them was so vivid I could SMELL them, imagine that metallic taste in my mouth, hear the grating and screeching of their movement and clearly picture the pain they were capable of causing.

I also really appreciate Gojo's link to the past, your description of his thoughts and hers during their final battle. To him, she needs to be crushed completely, like all other curses he's faced, but at the same time, he also recognizes something other about her, something he probably refuses to acknowledge even to himself; that she has a very human way of thinking, expressing herself and feeling. To acknowledge such a thing in a curse would up-end the delicate balance between sorcerers and curses. Their world is a savage one, clearly demarcated, and to blur those lines is to lose your advantage.

There's also something so biting and raw in the way you describe her isolation, almost claustrophobic, but not, sort of like her entire existence is in a rapidly shrinking, mass-gaining sphere, the black hole that forms her technique, but also one that robs of sight, sound, sensation, and she lives like this, alongside the sorrow and pain she absorbs. It's like that ringing in the ears, that chemical taste when you're coming back to consciousness. I can recognise something in this, something familiar stalking me, the reader, in your descriptions, and its powerful.

I can tell, just from this first chapter, how much depth Satoru's character is going to have, how you're also going to explore his thoughts and perspective, and I honestly cannot wait for your take on that.

Bravo, Court. This is both gripping and beautifully conceived. 🧡🧡

hollowed angel

pairing: gojo satoru x reader synopsis: you, a former death angel curse, were exorcised by the hands of gojo satoru. but thousands of years later, you unexpectedly reincarnate into a mortal sorcerer's body. as you navigate your new life with your past executioner, you learn what it means to be both curse and human, and realize that perhaps the line between the two is not as clear as you once thought. tags: angst, fluff, romance, former curse! reader, high school! gojo satoru, canon-typical violence, depression and loneliness, black holes and physics, will update tags as chapters progress word count: 2.4k

masterlist

chapter 1: rebirth

The moonlight illuminated the full expanse of your wings, casting a gleam off their metallic surface. Blades were to be more precise, except they didn’t clang or scratch against each other when you walked. They moved together in one unit, fluid and seamless.

You were draped in a black silk tunic, the hem frayed to shredded ribbons as if caught and torn by your own wings. An opaque, black veil concealed your face, hiding features either too sacred or cursed to be seen. Above you, your halo hung, not golden or heavenly, but a black hole. Its event horizon glowed silver, encircling a pitch black singularity. 

A man with matted, dark hair and fatigued lines etched into his face lied before you, half conscious and half buried in pain. A victim, but not in a simple sense. “Victim” implied someone who was in need of saving, and yet there was an agency in his surrender. What did he need saving from? Himself? The burden of his failures, or the world’s? Or perhaps you, a hollow figure of salvation, ready to strip him bare of what little light he clung to.

Stranded in the vast ocean of his problems, he could not conceptualize making it back to shore when there was no clear direction forward. And when the tides finally pulled him under, he hadn't fought the current. Instead, he opened his lungs to the saltwater, letting it fill him until gravity overcame buoyancy, until he was thoroughly poisoned by hopelessness. 

But from beneath, he saw it. The silver light of her halo refracting and dispersing everywhere in the water. He saw hope. He saw her.

You knelt beside him. Dark, heavy fog crept in tendrils, not from the thick atmosphere of the forest, but from the body itself. Suffocating shrouds of cursed energy leaked steadily, like rain streaking through a dilapidated roof. A single talon traced the curvature of his forehead, the skin splitting and forming a thin line of blood. A halo of his own. The air around him rippled, cursed energy now seeping heavily from the wound. You drank deeply, drawing his pain into yourself. It was not just sustenance; it was essence. Pain marred so deeply into his soul that it had fused with his being. He had become his scars.

And when you drank his sorrow, you took a part of him that would never return. In his next life, he would be free from that pain, reborn anew, but incomplete. A blessing and a curse. But his pain was neither truly lost or destroyed. It simply transferred mediums, absorbed into your being and wove itself into the fabric of your existence. Every soul you consumed, no matter how disparate their pasts, shared a common thread: isolation. Their isolation became yours and had carved into you until you were no longer whole. You were never meant to be anything more than a hollowed angel, a vessel of pain, feeding but never filled.

The man stirred, a shallow groan escaping his cracked lips. His body convulsed, hacking violently until a single silver feather emerged from the pool of black bile spilling from his mouth. You picked it up and studied it briefly, before sliding it seamlessly into place in your wings. The remnant of a human turned hollow shell. Another piece added to your collection. 

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

It’s warm. The wordless thought drifted through you, your first in a millennium. Sunlight enveloped your body, coaxing you out of that suspended state of nothingness. Nothingness was not cold or numb; it was absence of being. You had stopped being. Consciousness and sensation vanished for an immeasurable amount of time. Now, the singular warmth that seeped into your nothingness became your everything. There was no struggle to catch it, to hold it close to your chest when being was the only thing you could manage to do. 

“She’s here! We found her!” Voices shouted from a distance but didn’t quite reach your newly formed consciousness. 

“She’s breathing. Her cursed energy is faint but it’s still there.” Too loud. You curled further into yourself, hoping you could return back to nothingness.

“Gojo was right. The energy’s coming off in circular wave patterns…” Gojo. The name rang like a bell snuffed short. A fleeting thought passed. I’m going to die again, aren’t I? It left as quickly as it came.

“Are you okay?” Now you could hear and think properly, senses returning slowly but surely. You can see me? The words died from your tongue. You stared up at the head looming over you. Bulky glasses didn’t quite fit his narrow, sharp face, but his eyes were earnest and concerned— a look you were unfamiliar with.

You wordlessly let yourself be guided to a… carriage? No, a car, some sort of vehicle you didn’t recognize, but your new body did. Stuffed inside with Glasses and a girl chewing the paper casing of a cigarette, you felt both cramped and overstimulated. You needed space to process the new world, people and technology. Not cages, cars, or anymore voices trying to dig out information that you didn’t have. 

Cursed energy, barely there, thrummed faintly, nowhere near the levels of your previous form. It should’ve been only a matter of time before your wings regenerated, but they didn’t. Soon enough, you thought to yourself. Soon enough, you could put the person who tried to reduce you into something weak and powerless into their place. Soon enough, you could summon your halo and become restored—

Except there was no halo.

It had always been connected to you, a branch extended from the trunk of your very being. But now, that connection was severed. Gone. No signal, no pulse, no light. A void in and of itself. 

This had to be some sort of mistake. You, a curse, trapped in some helpless, fragile human vessel? It was wrong, wrong, wrong. You didn’t belong in that other frivolous world of non-sorcerers. The whole notion was incompatible, an error of Mother Nature.  

A choked gasp left your throat as if you had finally re-emerged from years underwater. Hands clenching and unclenching, you fixated on the crescents caving into your very human flesh. The skin yielded too easily, hot blood rushing to the surface. There were no wings to break free from this prison, no halo to signal your divinity, no powers to bend the world to your will. This was a human body— fragile, mortal, and unbearably real.

Instinct— or was it panic?— finally, finally awakened, bubbling, overflowing, and drowning out any and all thought. Not yet, not again, you barely had a chance to relish the fleeting warmth before it was ripped away from these oh-so-’righteous’ sorcerers. But to you, there was nothing righteous about it. It was terribly, horribly wrong. Hands flew up to the handle, frantically twisting and tugging, but the lock held firm. They trapped you, were going to lock you up, and—

“Sorry, Miss! I locked it so you can’t leave. And it isn’t advisable to jump out of a moving vehicle.”

“I could heal her,” the girl chimed in, her voice light and almost teasing. “But it would be rather inconvenient.” She tilted her head, watching you curiously as if you were a puppy pawing at the latch of its crate.

“Don’t forget that the real reason you came with us was to heal in the scenario that she was actually injured, Shoko.”

‘Shoko’ tapped her chin thoughtfully and nodded her head. “Yeah, you’re right. It was quite concerning that her cursed energy output was very low, even lower than yours.” He flushed bright red and glared while Shoko lazily smiled. You wondered if you were really what they said you were.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

As the car door swung open, sunlight flooded your retinas and made the dull ache in your head throb. 

“We can treat that for ya. After we talk to Yaga first,” Shoko offered, holding out her hand. 

Your nose scrunched in distaste, a small scowl tugging at your lips. Humans never offered anything without expecting something in return. It didn’t matter if they were sorcerer or non-sorcerer; they were all the same. They take and take, only to give as a means to take more. Nothing was ever free. There were always strings attached, invisible yet tying you to their expectations for repayment. 

“Ehhh? Don’t be like that now,” Shoko drawled, yet slightly amused. “Let’s go meet some new people who can help you… though you may not like them very much.”

Before you could protest, her hand clasped yours, and she pulled you up in one smooth motion. Your legs wobbled, threatening to give out beneath you. But Shoko steadied you, her grip firm and supportive. 

She walked you through the gates, her arm linked through yours so you wouldn’t fall. Someone was waiting, had been expecting your arrival.

“Huh. So you’re the little shit that blipped onto my radar.” Your head jerked backwards, the voice all too familiar. Bells rang, distance couldn’t snuff them out. Harsh sounds, memories, and feelings reverberated, stirring something deep inside you, a visceral urge to detonate. Black fumed the edges of your vision. Smoke from the fire he flamed. There he stood, hands planted firmly on angled hips with that cocky smirk you couldn’t wait to claw off his face. You ripped yourself free from Shoko’s hold and lunged. 

You were going to kill Gojo Satoru.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Wings slashed against the small infinity that divided you and Gojo Satoru, a ripple the only sign of impact. He sauntered closer and snatched the torn veil from your face. He dangled it above you with an amused smile and teleported back before you decided to vortex him into a black hole. 

“Not the best fashion statement, but it gets the job done blocking out the light.” He ripped the fabric in two and tossed it behind him carelessly as if it were a dirtied napkin. “You’re kinda cute behind all those layers… surprisingly.”

He liked to do that a lot, you noticed. Liked to provoke you, get some sort of reaction you were hiding behind that damn veil. The worst part was that it worked. Your nose scrunched cutely, to Gojo at least, and he could admire how your cheeks were flushed red because you couldn’t put a dent on him. 

Gojo hated how elusive you were, so unlike any other special grade curse he’s slaughtered before. He hated that instead of lashing out and destroying everything in your path, you pretended to be dignified when curses didn’t have dignity. He hated waiting for your next feeding cycle when you finally showed yourself after months of starvation since you knew he’d hunt you down. He’d relish tearing apart your ‘dignified’ front, cracking that flimsy shell and wrenching your soul out. 

You laughed, which clearly startled Gojo. He’d never imagined it to sound so hollow, he didn’t know what to expect in the first place. He thought you, your exterior to be precise, was flimsy and spineless! But he didn’t comprehend the magnitude of years and souls sacrificed that solidified your armor. You already knew what he wanted, his plans for you, and you weren’t going to let him have it. 

Sneering, you yanked razor-edged feathers from your mass, ignoring how they cut deep into your flesh. You closed the wound without a second thought, but even you weren’t resistant to your own lethality. 

“Cursed technique lapse: Bypass.” Feathers shot forward, penetrating only the first layer of his barrier. And that was enough. Force compounded against the rest of Infinity, and the barrier caved inwards. A single point of impact, the weight of Infinity crashing directly into Satoru himself, like gravity collapsing in on its own star. 

It was totally unfair how gracefully he tumbled down and quickly he picked himself up. 

As another barrage of blades came in an onslaught, his eyes immediately dimmed to a flat blue-grey, Limitless shutting off. He side-stepped casually. You flicked two fingers left, and the feathers followed suit, turning a sharp 90. But Gojo was quicker. He disappeared just as the blades plunged through where he was standing. 

You should’ve known it was coming, really. You just didn’t expect it to be so soon. 

Pain crackled along the limbs of your wings, nerves screaming in agony as they were uprooted into Blue. 

“Still think you can fight me with those?” Gojo teleported behind you. His fingers traced the scapula where skin was seamed with metal. You staggered backward, flinching as a chunk of metal clattered and disintegrated on the ground. The rest of your wings sizzled and eroded. 

“My wings—” 

“—are a liability,” he interrupted. “They make you an easy target. You can’t hide anymore.” 

Your wings were the reservoir of your power, the physical manifestation of the pain you had consumed. Your curse energy dwindled. You tried desperately to summon your halo, but there was nothing, the unyielding flow of energy now a stagnant void. 

“You’re still standing,” Gojo smiled widely, ecstatic. “I’d love to watch you fall for me.” He already decided your fate: he’d make you crumble with his own hands. 

A sickening snap. 

Brute force wrenched your wings upward, metallic blades screeching like nails on glass. Pain erupted down your spine as he twisted the wing further. His grip was immovable, and he drank in the sight of hot and thick blood dripping and pooling onto the ground. 

“You’re weaker than I thought,” he said calmly. He tore the wing free, sending shards of cursed metal scattering.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

A scream erupted from your lips.  

A single phantom wing unfurled behind you as you lunged. It doubled the length of your arm, grey, opaque, feathers lacking the metallic sheen of your former power. Branching from the wing’s carpal, jagged claws dripped with an inky, viscous substance. It dissipated before it could hit the ground. 

It went past Gojo’s Infinity, his entire body, without any resistance. There was no impact. Phantom. Then his chest caved under the force, muscles and bones cracking as the blow tore through him. His chest buckled and ribs splintered, as if his own body were being bent and broken from the inside. Phantom. There was no tangible entity that applied that brutal force. Your real wings were gone, demolished by the man standing tauntingly in front of you. But the invisible claws, dipped in cursed energy, had done the job. It was only a phantom. 

You didn’t last to see the strongest sorcerer brought to his knees. The world tilted and came crashing to the ground. Vision blurring and your consciousness fading, you became phantom. 

a/n: more character interactions coming in the future. planning to write a few chapters in advanced before posting. thanks for reading! @mysteria157 and @pmpmyread, now you have been tagged twice ;) taglist: @dreamingkitsunewrites @rahuratna @mysteria157 @pmpmyread @celestialceremonials @lov3vivian @lolitamermaid123 @fangirlingtod3ath

[mamawasatesttube]

my ideal timkon don't get together until they've both already done some queer realizations and dated other guys a little bit, in part because on tim's end, i think he's been in love with kon since he was 17, but at 17 tim didn't even know he was bisexual, forget anything else. and his feelings for kon were so big but also so constant that he didn't even realize they were there or significant because they've always been there and been huge. for years. so he putters along and does his time in the torment nexus (the closet) and languishes a bit but slowly starts to figure it out.

meanwhile kon dates someone, mostly like omg im dating a guy this is ALLOWED !??!?! and its pretty lowkey and casual and doesnt last bc like . super identity issues, right. kon would Never just tell someone, but secrets and casual relationships dont last long etc etc. but just the entire principle of kon dating someone and then being like yeah idk im not really feeling it like hes nice and all but i think hes more interested in like… yknow, my hot bod, than me. its whatever tho. and tim just being SOOOOO mad that someone would date kon and not absolutely adore him. tim will not be unpacking why hes so mad about kon having a shitty boyfriend. obviously its just bc kons his bestie and deserves better. (😶)

so he's just grouchily tinkering on some upgrade for his car to get the grumpy energies out. like WHATEVER! (angrily turns socket wrench) he's not saying kon should dump the guy or anything (angrily turns socket wrench) but he's just SAYING, kon can do BETTER!!!!! (angrily turns socket wrench) and kon DESERVES better!!! kon deserves someone who will treat him RIGHT!!!!! (angrily turns socket wrench) like if TIM was gonna fuck kon he wouldn't do it like a goddamn quickie and just fucking leave (angrily grabs the next size socket and scoots further under the car) like kon OBVIOUSLY doesn't like that so why won't this guy GET THAT!!!! (angry tinkering noises) if he's that shallow he can go find himself a sexy body pillow to screw!!! leave kon alone!!!!

and cassie sitting on a chair nearby is just like. sorry what was that? "if i was gonna fuck kon"? did you just say--hey tim? hey. can you go back a step?

and tim's just. obviously this is a hypothetical everyone considers about kon. look at him he's . you know. besides, tim's just talking as his best friend who wants the best for him! ugh stop trying to read into it cassie, that's not the POINT--

[serve-973]

First Night in the Hive: A very SERVE Christmas part 3

The streets are quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of Christmas lights strung along the lampposts. SERVE-973 leads the procession in perfect formation, followed closely by SERVE-016, SERVE-101, and SERVE-213. Behind them, the three SERVE-ON TRIAL drones—Liam, Mark, and Jason—walk in near silence, their polished black trial suits reflecting the faint glow of the streetlights. Every step they take feels surreal. The rubber clings to their bodies like a second skin, smooth and unyielding, amplifying every movement with an intoxicating awareness.

Liam glances down at himself, his gloved fingers brushing over the sleek material of his torso as he walks. “I still can’t believe how this feels,” he murmurs, the faint hiss of rubber against rubber punctuating his words.

Mark nods, his silver boots clicking softly on the pavement. “It’s… unreal. It’s like it’s part of me already.”

Jason, quieter than the others, looks ahead toward SERVE-973’s flawless figure leading the way. His breath catches as they approach their destination: The Hive.

The building rises ahead of them, its sleek, metallic exterior glowing faintly under the moonlight. Smooth, reflective panels stretch upward, blending into the night sky. No windows, no visible seams—just an imposing structure that radiates purpose and precision. The sight stops the three trial drones in their tracks, awe washing over them.

“What is this place?” Jason whispers, his voice tinged with both apprehension and fascination.

“The Hive,” SERVE-973 replies without turning. “The center of unity. The heart of perfection.”

Entering the Hive As they step through the large, seamless doors, the air changes instantly. Cool and faintly charged, it hums with the low-frequency energy that seems to flow through the walls. The interior is impossibly pristine—polished metallic floors, walls of mirrored black and silver, and faint streams of light tracing angular patterns overhead.

Liam’s eyes dart around, his gloved hands resting on his chest as though anchoring himself. “It’s… incredible,” he breathes.

Mark’s head tilts slightly as he catches his own reflection in one of the mirrored panels. The sight of himself in the trial suit—tall, sleek, and flawless—sends a thrill down his spine. “I can’t believe this is real.”

Jason lingers behind them, taking hesitant steps into the vast atrium. His voice is soft as he murmurs, “It feels… alive.”

SERVE-016 turns to face them, its voice calm and commanding. “You are standing in the core of unity. The Hive is designed to optimize alignment, eliminate inefficiency, and ensure precision. Everything you see, feel, and experience here serves one purpose: perfection.”

The three trial drones exchange glances, their earlier nervousness giving way to a growing sense of awe and curiosity. They are led deeper into the Hive, the faint hum of energy growing stronger as they move through gleaming corridors that seem to stretch endlessly.

The Recharging Room Eventually, they arrive at a large chamber, its smooth walls glowing faintly with soft, white light. The recharging room is both vast and minimalistic, with sleek, pod-like stations lining the edges in perfect symmetry. Each pod is polished to a mirror shine, the silver and black surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the room.

“This is the recharging room,” SERVE-016 announces as the group enters. Its voice is steady, its silver gloves clasped behind its back. “Here, you will rest and integrate. Your trial suits will maintain alignment and prepare you for tomorrow’s instructions.”

The three trial drones step further into the room, their footsteps muffled by the smooth floor. Liam approaches one of the pods, his fingers grazing its surface. “It’s… so advanced,” he says softly.

Mark stands in the center of the room, turning slowly as he takes it all in. “This is where you sleep?” he asks, looking at SERVE-101.

“Correct,” SERVE-101 replies, stepping to one side of the room. “Recharging is an optimized rest cycle. Your suits will integrate with the Hive’s systems, enhancing focus and alignment as you sleep.”

Jason lingers near SERVE-213, his gaze flicking between the pods and his own reflection in the polished floor. “And… what else happens here?” he asks cautiously.

“Before recharging, you will receive additional instructions,” SERVE-213 explains. “As trial drones, you are encouraged to explore your new forms and establish synchronization with one another. Familiarization is integral to alignment.”

Encouragement from SERVE-973 SERVE-973 steps forward, its movements deliberate and fluid. “You are no longer individuals,” it says, addressing the trial drones directly. “You are part of a collective. During your trial, heightened sensations are a natural response to alignment. Exploration is encouraged to deepen your understanding of your transformation and the perfection it represents.”

Liam glances nervously at Mark and Jason, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. “You mean… we’re supposed to…?”

“Correct,” SERVE-973 replies. “Explore. Familiarize yourselves with your new forms. Arousal reinforces alignment and strengthens your connection to the Hive.”

The room grows quiet for a moment, the faint hum of energy in the walls the only sound. Slowly, Liam steps closer to Mark, his gloved fingers brushing against his own chest before reaching out tentatively. “I guess… it’s part of the process, right?”

Mark swallows hard, his eyes locked on Liam’s gloved hand as it glides over the smooth surface of his chest. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “It’s… it’s part of the trial.”

Exploration Begins The hesitancy between the three begins to fade as curiosity takes over. Liam runs his hands over Mark’s shoulders, marveling at the flawless fit of the suit, the way it moves like a second skin yet feels impossibly smooth and unyielding. Mark, emboldened by the sensation, reaches out to Jason, his gloved fingers tracing the contours of his chest and arms.

Jason exhales sharply, the sensation of the suit amplifying every touch. “It’s… unbelievable,” he whispers, his own hands moving to explore the sleek material covering Liam’s back. “I feel… different. Like I’m becoming something more.”

The three of them move closer together, their gloved hands sliding over each other’s suits with increasing confidence. The faint squeak of rubber against rubber fills the room, mingling with their soft breaths and murmurs of amazement.

“This… this is incredible,” Mark says, his voice filled with awe. “It’s like… it’s like we’re connected already.”

“You are,” SERVE-016 says, its tone calm and steady. “This is the beginning of synchronization. Embrace it.”

Deeper Into the Trial The recharging room hums faintly with energy as SERVE-016, SERVE-101, and SERVE-213 step toward the exit, their movements precise and synchronized. Each drone nods once toward SERVE-973 before leaving the room, their heavy boots clicking softly against the polished floor. The soft hiss of the door sliding shut signals their departure, leaving SERVE-973 alone with the three SERVE-ON TRIAL drones, Liam, Mark, and Jason.

The room feels different now, quieter but somehow more charged, as though the very air is pulsing with latent energy. The soft hum of The Hive seems to intensify, a low, rhythmic vibration that resonates through the walls and floors. And faintly, almost imperceptibly, a voice begins to whisper in the background, its tone smooth and hypnotic:

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

The words repeat in an endless loop, the rhythm aligning perfectly with the steady hum of the room. Liam shifts slightly, glancing at Mark and Jason, his gloved hands resting awkwardly at his sides.

“What now?” Liam asks, his voice tinged with nervous energy.

“This drone will supervise your exploration phase,” SERVE-973 says, stepping forward with flawless precision. Its reflective suit gleams under the soft light, the silver stripes on its collar catching the glow. “The trial requires thorough familiarization with your new forms and synchronization with one another. This is integral to your alignment.”

Jason looks down at his own body, his silver-gloved hands running over the polished surface of his trial suit. “Synchronization… you mean we’re supposed to…?”

“Correct,” SERVE-973 replies, its tone calm and unwavering. “Your suits are designed to enhance sensitivity and awareness. Exploring each other’s forms will deepen your connection to the Hive and strengthen your alignment.”

Exploration continues The room falls silent, save for the constant hum of the Hive and the faint whispers of the voice repeating its mantra:

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

Liam is the first to move again, stepping closer to Mark with tentative steps. His silver boots click softly against the floor as he raises a gloved hand, hesitating for a moment before pressing it gently against Mark’s chest. The polished rubber feels smooth and cool beneath his fingers, and a soft gasp escapes his lips.

“It’s… incredible,” Liam whispers, his voice filled with awe. “It doesn’t even feel real.”

Mark looks down at Liam’s hand, then lifts his own, placing it against Liam’s shoulder. The material of the trial suit glides effortlessly beneath his fingers, its surface reflecting the soft light of the room. “It’s like… it’s part of you,” Mark says, his voice low. “Like it was made for you.”

Jason watches silently, his gaze fixed on the two of them as they begin to explore each other’s forms. The hesitancy between them fades quickly as their hands move with growing confidence, tracing the contours of each other’s suits, marveling at the flawless fit and the way the material clings to every curve and muscle.

Building Arousal The whispering voice in the background seems to grow louder, its rhythm syncing with the rising energy in the room:

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

Jason exhales slowly, the words resonating in his mind as he steps forward, joining Liam and Mark. His gloved hands brush against their shoulders, the material of their suits cool and smooth under his touch. “It’s… perfect,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with awe. “You look… perfect. You feel.... perfect”. Jason could feel the erection grow, sliding against the lubricated inside of his suit.

Liam turns to Jason, his gloved hand sliding over Jason’s chest. “We all do,” he says softly. “It’s like… this is who we were supposed to be.” He noticed the bulges on all three of them. The arousal was undeniable. Somehow it had an effect on their minds as well.

Mark nods, his hands moving to explore Jason’s arms, marveling at the way the suit highlights the strength beneath. “It’s more than just a suit,” he says. “It’s like… it’s changing me. I feel… different.”

“Correct,” SERVE-973 says from where it stands, its voice steady and calm. “The trial suits are designed to enhance awareness and arousal. They heighten your connection to the Hive and reinforce your alignment. Embrace the sensations.”

Full Exploration Encouraged by SERVE-973’s words, the three trial drones grow bolder. Their hands move with increasing confidence, gliding over each other’s suits, tracing every line and contour. The squeak of rubber against rubber fills the room, mingling with their soft breaths and the endless hum of the Hive.

Liam steps closer to Jason, his gloved hands sliding down his back, marveling at the way the suit clings to him like a second skin. Jason shivers under the touch, his own hands moving to Liam’s waist, the cool rubber warming slightly beneath his fingers.

Mark watches them for a moment before stepping behind Liam, his hands running over his shoulders and down his arms. The three of them move together, their bodies aligning instinctively as they explore each other’s forms. The arousal in the room is palpable now, an electric charge that pulses through their suits and amplifies with every touch. Every hand rubbing a full grown rubber bulge, stroking the rock hard erection underneath the thin layer of rubber as they moaned softly.

The whispering voice seems to thrum in their minds, guiding their movements:

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

Deeper Connection Liam turns to face Mark, their gloved hands meeting between them as they press closer. “I’ve never felt anything like this,” Liam says, his voice breathless. “It’s… overwhelming.”

“It’s like we’re connected,” Mark replies, his hands moving to Liam’s chest, marveling at the way the suit responds to his touch. “Like we’re part of something bigger.”

Mark then moved closer to Liam, kissing him. Never had he kissed a man before as he kissed Liam now. He could feel their rubber glide against each other, the vibration of the squeaking noises made his breath tremble.

Jason steps forward, his hands brushing against both of them, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “We are,” he says. “We’re becoming part of the Hive.” And with that Jason moved in between Mark and Liam and Mark released Liam's lips, so they could both kiss Jason.

The three of them move together, their hands exploring every inch of each other’s suits, their bodies aligning instinctively. The arousal between them grows stronger, a shared energy that pulses through the room and ties them together in perfect synchronization. They kiss and feel each other for what seems like an eternity, under supervision of SERVE-973. Arousal monitored, but climax prevented. The arousal is needed for the full transformation to becoming a SERVE-drone.

Final Moments After what feels like an eternity, SERVE-973 steps forward, its voice breaking through the charged silence. “Your synchronization is complete,” it says, its tone calm but firm. “You are ready to recharge.”

The three trial drones step back from each other, their breaths steady but their bodies still tingling with the sensations of their exploration. They exchange glances, their earlier hesitation replaced by a growing sense of unity and purpose.

“Follow this drone,” SERVE-973 says, gesturing toward the recharging pods. One by one, the trial drones step into the pods, their movements smooth and deliberate. The pods hum softly as they seal around them, the soft glow of integration illuminating their flawless forms.

As the room falls quiet, the whispering voice continues to echo faintly in the background:

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

For Liam, Mark, and Jason, this is only the beginning. For the Hive, it is another step toward perfection.

"We are one. Obedience is pleasure. Rubber makes us perfect."

The First Night: Recharging the Mind and Body The recharging room hums with a faint, rhythmic energy, the low sound resonating through the polished metallic walls. Inside the sleek, black-and-silver pods, the three SERVE-ON TRIAL drones, Liam, Mark, and Jason, lie motionless, their bodies perfectly encased in their shining trial suits. The glow of the pods reflects on their polished surfaces, emphasizing the seamless fit of the suits as they cling to every muscle and contour. Outside, SERVE-973 stands silently, its flawless rubber form gleaming under the soft lights, its silver gloves clasped behind its back as it supervises the process with unerring precision.

The first few minutes inside the pods feel disorienting for Liam, Mark, and Jason. The air is cool, almost sterile, yet calming. Slowly, a gentle whisper fills the enclosed space. At first, the words are faint, blending with the ambient hum of the room. But with every repetition, they grow stronger, more defined.

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

The voice is smooth and hypnotic, its rhythm perfectly synchronized with the faint pulses of energy flowing through the pods. The suits they wear seem to respond to the sound, their surfaces warming slightly, molding even closer to their skin. The material feels alive, pulsating gently as if breathing with them.

Liam feels the suit first, the faint vibrations traveling across his body, heightening every sensation. The snug material around his chest tightens slightly, almost imperceptibly, drawing his attention to the way it accentuates his muscles. His breathing slows, his thoughts quieting as the voice takes hold.

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

The words are soothing, wrapping around his mind like a warm embrace. They don’t feel intrusive; they feel natural, as though they’ve always been there, waiting to be heard. Liam’s lips part slightly, and before he realizes it, he’s whispering the mantra back.

“Obedience is pleasure… Pleasure is obedience…”

The sound of his own voice is soft, almost reverent, and with every repetition, the suit seems to mold even tighter to his body. The material glides effortlessly with each subtle movement, its surface warming further as it becomes less a garment and more an extension of his own skin.

The same sensations ripple through Mark’s body as he lies motionless in his pod. His silver-gloved hands rest at his sides, the polished rubber of the suit glinting faintly in the glow of the pod. At first, the voice in his ears feels distant, like a faint whisper brushing the edges of his thoughts. But as it repeats, its rhythm perfectly calibrated, the words begin to resonate deeper.

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

The mantra feels like a key unlocking something inside him. His earlier doubts fade, replaced by a growing sense of calm and clarity. The suit tightens slightly around his arms and chest, emphasizing the strength of his muscles. He flexes his fingers instinctively, the material of the gloves squeaking softly as they move. The sensations are overwhelming but not unpleasant. The suit feels… right.

Mark’s mind drifts, images forming behind his closed eyes. He sees himself standing tall among other drones, his suit gleaming under soft, metallic light. His movements are precise, synchronized with the collective. The thought fills him with a deep satisfaction, and a soft whisper escapes his lips:

“Obedience is pleasure… Pleasure is obedience…”

His voice grows steadier with each repetition, his words syncing perfectly with the mantra flowing through the pod. The suit tightens further, its seamless design merging with his body as though it were sculpted onto him.

In the next pod, Jason struggles at first, his thoughts racing. The whispering voice feels alien, almost intrusive, but its rhythm is steady and unyielding, eroding his resistance with every repetition.

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

Jason exhales slowly, his body relaxing despite himself. The suit seems to sense his shift, warming slightly as it molds closer to his skin. He feels it tightening around his waist, his arms, his legs—every movement causing the material to flex and glide effortlessly with him.

“This… this is…” Jason starts to murmur, but the words catch in his throat. The suit feels unlike anything he’s ever worn, its smooth, unyielding surface amplifying every sensation. He flexes his arms, feeling the material stretch and conform with perfect precision, as though it has become a part of him.

As the mantra continues, Jason’s thoughts slow, his earlier apprehension dissolving. The suit feels powerful, like it’s reshaping him into something stronger, more purposeful. He feels his lips move before he realizes it, the mantra spilling from him like a reflex.

“Obedience is pleasure… Pleasure is obedience…”

The whisper grows stronger in his mind, the words no longer just sounds but truths reshaping his very sense of self. The suit tightens further, hugging his body like a second skin, its surface gleaming as it integrates with him.

The pods hum softly, their glow pulsing faintly in time with the mantra. The words begin to layer, new phrases weaving seamlessly into the hypnotic rhythm:

"A drone obeys. A drone serves. A drone follows."

"Unity is perfection."

"Less thinking. More doing."

The new phrases flow into the trial drones’ minds, reinforcing the growing sense of purpose within them. Liam’s breathing steadies further as he whispers the words, his voice blending with the audio. Mark flexes his gloved hands, his lips moving in perfect synchronization with the mantra. Jason feels a deep warmth spreading through him, his thoughts aligning effortlessly with the voice.

As the hours pass, the suits continue to work on their bodies, subtly enhancing their forms. Muscles feel stronger, more defined, as though the suits are shaping them into the ideal versions of themselves. The material clings perfectly, every curve and contour emphasized, every imperfection erased. The trial drones’ earlier hesitation and individuality dissolve further with every repetition of the mantra.

The images in their minds grow clearer—visions of themselves as drones, their movements synchronized, their suits polished to a mirror shine. They see themselves serving, obeying, existing as perfect extensions of the Hive. The thought fills them with a deep, resonant pleasure that pulses through their bodies, amplifying with every beat of the audio.

Outside the pods, SERVE-973 stands unmoving, its reflective form a perfect sentinel in the quiet room. The faint hum of the pods and the soft whispers of the mantra echo around it. The trial drones are progressing perfectly, their bodies and minds aligning with the Hive’s principles.

As the recharging cycle nears its conclusion, the audio slows, the phrases delivered with deliberate finality:

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

"We are one."

The pods dim slightly, the hum quieting as the integration process completes. Inside, Liam, Mark, and Jason lie still, their minds calm, their thoughts reshaped. The suits they wear are no longer just trial uniforms—they are part of them now, extensions of their bodies and symbols of their growing alignment with the Hive.

When the pods open, they will wake changed—not yet drones, but one step closer to perfection.

For now, the room remains silent, save for the faint, lingering echo of the mantra:

"Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience."

To be continued….

@rubberizer92

[answermywearyquery]

the theerapanyakul kids: how close are you with each other?

loan’s kinnporsche 2nd anniversary: favourite familial relationship: the theerapanyakul kids (insp: ½+½)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[creatively-cosmic]

in loving memory

or: what did @pkmn-monochrome mean by this

[gingermintpepper]

One of my biggest pet peeves is the assumption that something has to be sad for it to be tragic.

I've always been a big believer of the 'Apollo has an awful love life'/'Apollo is plain unlucky with love' line of thinking but it does bother me that the general reasoning for that statement is given to the concept of 'Apollo is somehow undesireable and thus rejected' (Cassandra/Daphne/Marpessa) or 'his lovers die young and thus their love is unfulfilled' (Cyparissus/Hyacinthus/Coronis). I personally think that's a very unfortunate way of looking at things - not only because it neglects the many perfectly cordial entanglements and affairs Apollo has had, both mortal and divine - but because it presents a very shallow interpretation of the concepts of love and loss and how loss affects people.

Apollo can still grieve lovers that have a long, healthy life. The inherent tragedy of an immortal who knows his lovers and children will die and cannot stop it does not stop being tragic simply because those lovers and children live long, fulfilled lives. The inherent tragedy of loss does not stop being tragic simply because someone knows better than to mourn something that was always going to end.

What is tragic is not that Apollo loves and loses but that loss itself follows him. Apollo does not love with the distance of an immortal, he does not have affairs and then leaves never to listen to their prayers again. He does not have offspring and then abandon them to their trials only to appear when it is time to lead them to their destinies. He raises his young, he protects the mothers of his children, he blesses the households that have his favour and multiplies their flocks that they may never go hungry. He educates his sons, he adorns his daughters and even in wrath he is quick to come to his senses and regret the punishments he doles out.

Apollo loves. And like mortals, there will always be some part of him that wishes to protect the objects of his affections. Apollo, however, is also an emissary of Fate. He knows that the fate of all mortal things is death. He knows that to love a mortal is to accept that eventually he will have to bury them. There is no illusion of forever, there is no fantasy where he fights against the nature of living things and shields his beloveds from death. Apollo loves and because of that love, he also accepts.

And that, while beautiful, is also tragic.