#abilities

[aurelion-solar]

Masque of the Black Rose Ezreal Concept Art - Lucy Du

[evans-endeavors]

ABILITY FORMS LEDIAN #166

The idea of giving pokemon different forms/designs based on their abilities is so charming. Had to draw my favorite little guy!

Original idea by @n0rtist

[downfalldestiny]

Don't just dream it. Live it 🏮 !.

The only limit is the one you set yourself. Believe in yourself and your abilities.

[angstylittleguy]

The 53rd Day

Bennett is trapped in a time loop, one where Dalton experiences a growth spurt in public, leaving Bennett to scramble to try to prevent it. // Part 2

tw: blood and injury, anxiety, implied death

character context: Bennett frequently gets stuck in time loops and the only way to get the loop to end is for him to survive the day. Dalton is a size-shifter whose height is affected by his emotions.

word count: 2k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Bennett jerked awake, gasping for air like he had been dragged underwater. His lungs burned in his chest and his head spun with vertigo. He was hot, his clothes sticking to his skin uncomfortably. He tore off his shirt as he tried to steady his breathing. 

The sun hadn’t even risen yet. Bennett didn’t have to check the time to know it was 4:28 am. It’s always 4:28 am. It’s been 4:28 am every time he woke up for the past 53 mornings. It will probably be 4:28 am tomorrow. And it will be 4:28 am the morning after tomorrow. Bennett thought he was going to be sick. 

He threw himself out of bed, slinging the bed sheet that still clung to his legs onto the floor. Bennett didn’t bother to shower, not yet at least. He was out of soap. He had been out of soap for 53 days. No matter how many times he went to the store, no matter how many bars of soap he bought, he would still be out of soap tomorrow. 

The bathroom light was blinding, a harsh yellow against the darkness of the early morning. Bennett stared numbly at himself in the mirror, the black tally marks littering his arms like ugly stains. He picked up the sharpie he left by the sink and removed the cap with his teeth. He added another tally on the bicep of his left arm. 

His stomach was twisted with knots. Anxiety gnawed at his flesh. Bennett didn’t know what to do. 

He wished Josiah was here. Of course, his cursed time loop started the day after Josiah left campus to visit home. The universe had its own unique way of making him miserable. 

The store didn’t open until 8:00 am and Bennett had four hours to come up with a plan. Nothing he’d tried thus far had worked, but he had to keep trying if he ever wanted to make it out of this alive. And he meant that quite literally. 

He got dressed, putting on the same yellow hoodie that he had worn since the loop started. It never got dirty, so why not? The mud stains, the sweat, the spilled drinks, and the blood had always disappeared when the day reset. No one remembered the failures, the embarrassment, and the near-death experiences (or were they simply death experiences?) but Bennett, and he had nothing to show for all the horrors he’d been through. 

Bennett just wished he could go back to sleep. The thought had occurred to him before, many, many times. But no, he couldn’t. He had something important to take care of. 

Bennett had been sitting outside of Dalton’s house for three and a half hours before Dalton finally opened the door. He jumped at the sight of the Bennett sitting on his front step, instantly growing a few inches. He put a hand to his chest, trying to calm himself down before he could grow anymore.

“Shit, Bennett,” Dalton said, voice weak like he was out of breath. “What the hell are you doing here? And how long have you been here?”

“Since 4:30.” Bennett stood now, craning his head back to look Dalton in the eye. 

“And you didn’t knock because?”

“I figured you needed your beauty rest.” Bennett patted Dalton on the chest. “And I needed time to think.”

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re up to, but I really don’t have time for whatever it is. I’ve gotta…” Dalton’s voice trailed off and he ducked back into his house. 

Bennett followed him inside, closing the door behind him and lingering in the living room. Dalton’s voice called out from the bathroom: “Do I look too unnaturally tall to go out?”

“Yes,” Bennett responded, knowing that no matter what he said it wouldn’t change Dalton’s mind. “You’re like, six-ten right now, dude.”

Dalton groaned. “I don’t really have a choice; I need to go.”

He appeared from the bathroom, stalking down the hallway. “It’ll probably wear off after a while, I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Yeah, except it won’t,” Bennett muttered, watching as Dalton grabbed a faded backpack off the floor and slung it over one shoulder. “Where exactly are you going this early anyway?”

Bennett, obviously, knew the answer already. 

“It’s nothing, just something for class.”

“Why won’t you just tell me you’re going to your art showcase?”

Dalton’s height seemed to waver with the question, his head nearly brushing the low ceiling now.

Bennett pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dalton, this is exactly why I’m here. Something is wrong with you. Something is wrong with everything. And if we don’t figure it out, we’re just gonna keep doing this dance until one of us—” He stopped himself, his voice catching. “Until one of us can’t anymore.”

Dalton turned back, his face tight with irritation but softened by a flicker of concern. “What are you talking about?”

Bennett hesitated. He hadn’t wanted to do this now, not before he’d had time to think things through. But there was no other way. “We’re stuck, Dalton. Or, I’m stuck. In a loop. Every day, the same shit happens—me waking up at an ungodly hour of the morning, you freaking out and growing in public—and every day, I have to start over like none of it ever happened.”

Dalton stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

Dalton ran both hands through his hair, exhaling hard out of his nose. “I can’t just not go,” he finally said. “It’s worth half my grade.”

“Who shows up for school events on Saturdays anyway?” Bennett countered, trying to lighten the mood at least a little. “You should skip, I’m sure everyone will understand.”

“It’s not just about me. My group and I have been working on this project for months. They’re counting on me to be there. If I don’t show up, I screw over everyone else, too.”

“Look, I get it,” Bennett said after a pause. “You don’t want to let anyone down. But maybe—”

“No ‘maybe,’” Dalton interrupted, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’m going. I have to. I can’t just stop living because of this… whatever this is.”

Bennett stared at him, torn between wanting to argue and knowing it wouldn’t do any good. “Fine. But I’m warning you. It’s not pretty.”

“Noted,” Dalton said dryly, already heading for the door.

The drive to campus was tense, Dalton practically vibrating with nervous energy. Bennett sat silently in the passenger seat of his car keeping an eye on him, half-expecting a sudden growth spurt at any moment.

By the time they parked outside the building, Dalton’s breathing was shallow, his grip tight on the steering wheel. Groups of students and professors were heading inside, some just milling around the entrance.

“Last chance to bail,” Bennett said quietly.

Dalton shot him a look. “Not happening.”

He climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut. Bennett sighed, leaning against the hood as Dalton disappeared into the crowd. He watched him go; shoulders stiff but head held high. Bennett gave him a moment—gave himself a moment—before he followed him inside, trying to prepare for what was going to happen.

...

Bennett stood at the back of the room, his gaze fixed on Dalton as he fidgeted nervously at the podium. Dalton’s eyes flickered toward the crowd, his face pale, a sheen of sweat already forming on his forehead. Bennett could tell he was barely holding it together. He’d seen Dalton like this before—flustered and anxious—but this time it seemed worse. The anxiety radiated off him in waves.

Dalton cleared his throat and adjusted the microphone, his hands shaking. “Uh, hi, I’m Dalton Richards. We… um.” His voice wavered.

Bennett’s heart clenched at the sight. He’d never seen Dalton this nervous, and they were all depending on him. But Dalton’s words were faltering. The audience watched, waiting, and Dalton seemed to shrink under the weight of their expectation.

The lights above glared down like a hot spotlight, making Dalton squint. He gestured toward the projected image of their mural, and Bennett could see his hands trembling. “Our work reflects transformation. And, uh, perseverance,” Dalton stammered.

Bennett’s stomach dropped. He wanted to do something, anything, to make Dalton feel better, but all he could do was watch.

Then, a faint cough echoed through the room, and it was like a switch flipped. Dalton’s eyes went wide, his breathing shallow. The sound of the cough ricocheted off the walls, and Bennett could see Dalton's face twist in discomfort. His chest heaved with each breath, and something in his posture changed.

Bennett swallowed, already knowing what was happening. His heart began to hammer in his chest. Dalton’s whole body was tense, his hands gripping the podium, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I—” Dalton’s words broke off as his chest tightened. The look on his face shifted, panic flashing in his eyes. Bennett’s pulse quickened as he watched his friend stumble, his knees buckling beneath him.

Dalton was growing. His limbs, his torso—everything about him was expanding, elongating in a way that defied reason.

“Are you alright?” one of Dalton’s groupmates whispered, their voice tinged with fear.

But Dalton wasn’t alright. His breaths were ragged, his body shifting uncontrollably as his height surged. The stage groaned under the strain, and the crowd murmured in alarm. Bennett could see the chaos spreading, whispers turning into shouts.

“Dalton!” Bennett called out, pushing through the crowd. His feet carried him toward the stage without thinking, his heart pounding in his ears. He had to get to him. He had to help.

But as he reached the front, Dalton's body surged again. He went down to his knees with a bone-shattering crash. The stage splintered beneath him, sending a jagged piece of wood flying toward Bennett.

Bennett didn’t have time to move. The wood struck him with brutal force, digging into his side. Pain exploded through him as he staggered back, clutching his ribs. Blood soaked his shirt almost immediately.

“Bennett!” Dalton's voice rang out, desperate and raw, but it was too late. Bennett felt his knees give way, the world spinning as he crumpled to the ground. The pain in his side was overwhelming, but worse was the look on Dalton’s face—horror, guilt, and fear all mixed together.

Bennett tried to focus, but his vision was blurry. The world around him seemed to fade as he felt himself slipping, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His hand pressed against the wound, but the blood kept flowing, too much too quickly.

The shrieks of the crowd were distant now, a faint blur of noise. All Bennett could focus on was Dalton, towering above him. His friend’s eyes were wide, panicked, but there was nothing he could do. Bennett couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move.

He just... couldn’t breathe.

Everything felt like it was happening underwater, the edges of his vision darkening. He couldn’t hold on anymore.

And then, everything stopped. The world went still. The pain, the panic, the crowd—it all slowed. Time seemed to stretch, and for a moment, Bennett felt weightless. It was like a second passed, or maybe an eternity. He couldn’t tell.

And then...

Bennett gasped, his chest jerking with a sharp intake of air. The sudden rush of oxygen burned in his lungs, but he was awake—alive. His hand still clutched his side, but when he pulled away there was no blood, no sign of injury. He was in his bed and the sun had yet to rise.  

Part 2

tag list: @sandwichtheuhh / @gt-daboss / @kazuyumi1412 / @ewmoodboardblorbo / @isumietokyo / @litenmyra / @smol-n-smol / @thesillygoofygoober / @lady-bee-fechin/ @werifesteria20/ @liconich / @wadling-of-wadlimar / @chuuyas-height / @r0bi-n / @abygails

[eveningwithsunlight]

bsd abilities are weird. like i get dazai or sigma but how did KAIJI find out he had an ability. WHAT WAS BRO DOING. DID HE SUDDENLY GET THE URGE TO CREATE A LEMON SHAPED BOMB AND THEN WHEN IT DIDNT KILL HIM HE WAS LIKE

[ethanthespookymonth]

🖤Tag your friends so they can answer! 🖤

My choices:

My name is Lord Madness

And I choose: Become any age permanently and Travel anywhere instantly

My tags:

@egirljade @transsin @jadescortaurius-alt @amethyst-aster @amethyst-aster-2 @oddlyvoid @thezcurse

[eloqiu]

top 11 hardest bsd abilities to discover (not listed in order)

(might contain some spoilers)

Dazai (No Longer Human). To begin with, my man had to find someone with a ability. (Probably like, 1/1,000,000 people) And then touch them, if Dazai was a normal guy, and not the demon prodigy, he 100% wouldn't have known he had this ability

Yosano (Thou Shalt Not Die). How'd she even discover this? There's very few scenarios where someone would be half dead, and I doubt that any normal person would be able to discover that they had a ability like this. There's still a chance, but it's very small.

Fitzgerald (The Great Fitzgerald). Imagine, you're a middle class man, normal life, normal income, nothing crazy about your life. How the hell do you find out you become stronger when you spend money. We've seen Fitzgerald not activate his ability when he causally spends, how the hell did you activate it then???

Muishitaro (The Perfect Crime). I- How does a normal person, commit enough crimes to find out that, no they're not getting away with these crimes because they're lucky, they're actually using a ability that erases their crime.

Ace (Madness of the Jewel Kings). Could just be a me thing but, I don't think I've ever met someone with debt slaves. Much less anyone who can convert their debt slaves lifespan into jewels. You either gotta be insane, or have plot armor to find out about this ability

Mark Twain (Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer). You have to be fucking enlisted to find out you have this ability, because there's no way a normal person's gonna have a sniper with them (unless you're in the United States.... Wait-)

Fukuzawa (All Men are Created Equal). This is the same logic as Dazai, there's probably not that many ability users, as you'd have to collect enough ability users to realize "oh, my subordinates get full control over their abilities", also what qualifies as the agencies entrance exam? Is it even necessary?

Pushkin (A Feast in Time of Plague). How the hell do you manage to "coincidentally" find out that you have an ability that affects 2 people with a virus, and that if one of those 2 people don't die, both the people will die from having their organs eaten. You have to be insane or a serial killer to find that ability.

Yukito (Another). I'm genuinely curious on how many mysteries this guy had to solve to be able to find out that the killer in the mysteries always, 100%, without fail, dies after the mysterys been solved. That is extremely and annoyingly specific.

Kajii (Lemon). The whole ass reason I made this post, who the fuck is "conveniently" creating lemon shaped bombs, there's no way he found out this ability through normal means. Was one of his friends a terrorist with a lemon kink? Because that's the only reasonable explanation that he's finding out this ability. Either that or, he's got a big food kink and makes bombs shaped as food during his spare time. There's no fucking way, a normal guy with an office job is finding out they have an ability like that. Atsushi's the main character? Nah, this man has way more plot armor. Because the stars, universe, solar system, and plantes had to align for him to find out about his ability

Ranpo (✨Ultra Deduction✨) please help im being threatened . I mean, he could always be a genius or whatever but... Sure.

[n0rtist]

Can gameplay help define a character design? I discuss how Abilities were introduced and how their meaning changed over time in Pokemon.

[tulipe-rose]

Assuming the special division for unusual powers is the one that assigns names for each Ability, they probably named Dazai's Ability 'no longer human' in tribute to the fact that only humans are affected by Abilities, such that being unaffected by them is alien, and therefore branded as 'not human' (take Lovecraft for example). The painful part is that they called it no longer human in recognition to the fact that he was once human, making it all the more tragic for him. Imagine telling a middle schooler he was no longer considered a human; he literally just lost his humanity, and will probably be abused for it, the adults should've seen suicide coming from a mile away.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: January 22, 2025

Reworked Character #18: Walter Ryan

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, child abuse, suicide, drug addiction, and crime.

Real name: Walter Evangelos Mulryan

Nicknames: Walt, Evan, and Ryan

Occupation: Sergeant Major of Division 6 and cadet for the P.F. Squad (formerly)

Retirement plans: Marry the love of his life

Special skills: Zoology, callisthenics, Krav Maga, the use of paradummies, and mastery of guitars, keyboards, and singing

Imperfect clone abilities: From just above his pubic region to the upper back in a semi-crescent shape, he has skin flaps that open wide when he slouches and focuses on a specific person, group or object. Once open, they reveal his Marian blue muscles coated with mucosal lilac slime and six large circular holes. The mucosal slime coats his entire muscular and internal organ systems, providing effective immunity against harmful bacteria and viruses. From these holes emerge 1 ft (30.48 cm) fleshy periwinkle tendrils that grow up to 4 ft (121.92 cm) upon exposure to air, fueled by rapid cell growth and blood flow. The tendrils become semi-hard and extremely elastic, stretching up to 12 ft (365.76 cm) and capable of breaking iron-strength objects. Their primary functions include impaling, crushing, restraining, and lifting massive objects, such as two Easter Island heads, but they also possess remarkable sensitivity to gentle touch. Tracing the bulging greenish and reddish veins triggers uncontrollable spasms and intense arousal.

When he's extremely focused on reaching his destination, the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins enables him to run at an incredible pace, nearly twice as fast as a cheetah. He possesses exceptionally acute hearing, capable of detecting sounds from 20 ft (609.6 cm) away, including the faint footsteps of cats, which enables him to easily sense the presence of others. Initially, his endurance and stamina enabled him to withstand three times the normal amount of physical pain, recover from injuries 50% faster, and remain active for seven hours without fatigue. However, following his training with the Peregrine Falcons Squad, his endurance and stamina have improved significantly. He can now tolerate extreme physical stress, recover from injuries in just one to two hours, and sustain himself for up to five days without rest.

Hobbies: Dumpster diving, phoning his Mama, frequenting karaoke bars, creating new musical compositions, and smoking his neon-coloured, floral-patterned bong off work

Likes: Nature documentaries, trying on pretty dresses, letting Tyra put makeup on him and paint his nails, the call sounds of laughing kookaburras, and the necklace his older half-sister gave him

Dislikes: When others poke fun of his accent and use of Australian slang, his fleshy tendrils being caressed during battle, his ticklish waist, gender norms, and jungles

Favourite food: Grilled kangaroo covered in gravy and caramelised onions

Sexuality: Bicurious, heteroromantic demisexual

Gender: Male

Age: 11 (in 2022), 17 (in 2028), 19 (in 2030), 21 (in 2032), 23 (in 2034), 30 (in 2041), 32 (in 2043), 33 (in 2044), and 36 (in 2047)

Blood type: AB-

Weight: 183 lbs. (83 kg)

Design: He’s a 7 ft (213.36 cm) Greek-Australian ectomorph with a wiry build, an inverted triangular body type, slightly elongated limbs, sloping shoulders, and decently chiselled muscles that bulge unnervingly when he flexes. He has dark green eyes, golden beige skin, and brownish freckles scattered across his face, chest, and hands. Additionally, hidden behind his standard teeth lies a row of razor-sharp, carnivorous ones. He sports the same hairstyle as Walter’s card from Metal Slug Advance, but his hair is a glossy raisin black with neatly tapered sideburns that fade out halfway down. Shortly after he started dating Tyra, she painted his nails with aquamarine nail polish and did his makeup, applying navy blue smokey eyeshadow and soft peach lip gloss.

He has the same cybernetic prosthetic as Marco, but it replaces his right arm. He bears several scars, mostly obtained during the Survival Island Occupation: a cut from beside his left nostril to the centre of his chin; two bullet wounds on his left deltoid; a graze wound on his left knee; a gnarled slash on the top of his left forearm, curving slightly towards the end; bite marks on his left forearm; and multiple healed scratches and skin-picking scars on his left upper arm, shoulder, and thighs. He has a tattoo featuring a vertical mauve to dusty rose to blue-grey gradient, situated just below his collarbone. The tattoo reads "Πάθει μάθος" (páthei máthos), a Greek phrase that translates to "learning through suffering”. He has a tattoo on his left lumbar region, depicting a horned viper coiled around a rotten red apple, ready to strike.

His military gear consists of a metal dog tag necklace with his name, reseda green leather wristbands, a sinopia belt with a snap-on bronze buckle, a sheath for his combat knife, and a holster for his handgun. He sports a Pacific cyan vest with four pockets, its original P.F. Squad logo on the back having been replaced by the Division 6 insignia. He wears an olivine T-shirt with a ripped right sleeve, featuring a golden-red phoenix centred on the front, its head turned to the right. The phoenix has outstretched wings, a black beak, eagle-like feet, and an emerald green eye. He wears dark green, greyish-brown, and charcoal camouflage army cargo pants, which are tucked into the same boots worn by Walter Ryan in Metal Slug Advance.

The pockets of Walter’s vest carry around a pinkish-white vape adorned with light yellow teardrop seeds that impart a vanilla strawberry flavour, an amber jewel with a bright sheen (a gift from Tyra), a white gold stick of raspberry champagne lip chap, and a butterfly knife. It also carries a photograph of his Mama with a toddler version of himself, sucking his thumb and shyly looking away from the camera, taken on a sunny day at Poipu Beach.

Over his T-shirt, he dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. His left forearm is wrapped in a dirty gauze bandage, and a rust-coloured bandolier is slung over his right shoulder, holding bullets for his handgun. Walter carries a sinopia load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, a RMb-93, a Shotgun, and a couple of paradummies. His backpack even carries a maximum blue purple Yamaha SHS-10, a Paris green sound-cancelling, bluetooth headset, a cellphone with a metallic purple case, and a metallic purple rectangular case filled with coloured pencils in every hue of the rainbow.

It contains a Drop Shot modified by Tarma, which fires bouncing landmines that explode upon contact with fabric and travel far distances of up to 18 ft (548.64 cm), and is combined with a heavy machine gun. It also contains his diary, bound in worn alligator skin and marked with a phthalo blue silk ribbon, filled with his most intimate thoughts and feelings, observant sketches of his surroundings, and illustrations of the disturbing hallucinations that plague him.

He has three piercings: yellowish-green snake bite piercings; a white gold nostril hoop piercing on the right; a metallic blue horizontal barbell piercing above his left eyebrow; and purple-tinted silver tassels that adorn medium-sized gold hoop earrings. Walter wears a personalised friendship bracelet featuring Dilovar's name in letter beads, accompanied by alternating turquoise, amethyst, and yellow-orange beads. He wears a black cord necklace featuring a sapphire boomerang-shaped pendant, adorned with two thin zigzag stripes in yellow-orange, a gift from his older half-sister when he turned 15.

Character summary: He's a troubled and quick-tempered individual searching for his life's purpose, who excels at creating distractions through clever misdirection, verbal deception, and unorthodox tactics like animalistic sounds and decoys. After being mute for nine years of his life, he has developed a tendency to be overly talkative and expressive, often unintentionally interrupting others. Whenever he feels emotionally overwhelmed, he tends to exhibit self-soothing behaviours, such as biting his forearms, scratching himself or picking at his skin. He's surprisingly laid-back and easygoing, always supportive of his comrades and friends as he adapts seamlessly to any situation without complaint. He occasionally needs some persuasion to take action, particularly when concerns about potential risks or negative outcomes hold him back.

He's a bit of a mama's boy, evident in his weekly phone calls with his mother and occasional returns home to stay with her when he’s feeling emotionally drained. It really annoys him when people call him a "mama's boy” because he doesn't want to be perceived as weak and overly dependent on his mother. He calls his mother frequently, driven by a deep love for her and a persistent fear of losing her unexpectedly. The thought of her loss would plunge him into profound despair and existential crisis. He’s a charming and flirtatious feminist, often complimenting women and offering them physical comfort and words of encouragement. He feels more at ease in the company of women, finding their presence enjoyable and aesthetically pleasing, which is why he tends to seek out their company over socialising with groups of men.

He's an extroverted and slightly sarcastic rebel who boldly stands up for what he believes in, refusing to remain silent when something doesn't feel right or his loved ones are made to feel uncomfortable or threatened. Yet, his unfiltered honesty can sometimes come across as blunt and abrasive, occasionally landing him in confrontations. He's an endearingly curious and affectionate person who possesses a childlike enthusiasm for the things that thrill him, especially when it comes to upcoming vacations, quality time with loved ones, action-packed moments, and the latest music drops. Compared to most people in the Regular Army, he stands out as a hardcore party enthusiast, finding parties to be an exhilarating escape from the stresses of daily life. He's deeply passionate about music, his loved ones, and animals, and he thoroughly enjoys discussing these interests with others.

He has zero tolerance for hypocrisy, food and resource waste, littering, dishonesty, animal cruelty, domestic violence, and the mistreatment of women and girls, considering these behaviours to be utterly unacceptable and destructive. He harbours sneaking suspicions about the Regular Army, particularly regarding the disregard many special operatives show for the innocence of individuals affiliated with the enemy. However, he keeps his concerns to himself to avoid creating tension for the special forces units he cares about. Walter has a tendency to become vengeful, confrontational, aggressive, and intimidating when he feels strongly wronged or his anger is justified. He often appears to be dismissive, standoffish, and condescending toward individuals he personally dislikes and doesn’t trust.

He has a tendency to act impulsively, often driven by the rapid escalation of tension and excitement. He usually jumps into battles without hesitation when he believes they will bring him closer to achieving his goal of true worth. He lacks some common sense, leading to inappropriate questions, misread social cues, and difficulties following instructions, even when they’re relatively straightforward. He also tends to mispronounce words, take unwise shortcuts, and overlook warning signs when dealing with individuals who hide their harmful intentions behind superficial kindness.

He takes immense pride in his singing voice, fueled by numerous compliments about its beauty and power, yet the attention it brings makes him feel painfully shy and uncomfortable in the spotlight. He hates the idea of fame because it causes him immense stress due to the prospect of unwanted attention and constant scrutiny. He becomes flustered when a woman or close friend compliments him, and he particularly dislikes it when people insult or poke fun at his enjoyment of traditionally “feminine” interests. He absolutely despises it when people look through his diary, considering it a blatant invasion of his privacy. When he's had too much to drink, he becomes hyperactive, argumentative, careless, and flirtatious, and his usual self-deprecating, anti-authoritarianism humour turns nonsensical and lighthearted.

He lives with atypical depression, PTSD, anorexia nervosa, white knight syndrome, and undiagnosed paranoid schizophrenia. Although he has paranoid schizophrenia, he doesn’t experience delusions, but he does experience hallucinations, which he has become desensitised to over time, and they now rarely cause him visible distress. He sees himself as a burden and a coward, overly reliant on others, and believes he's unworthy of the good fortune and happiness he's encountered. He struggles with intense feelings of failure and worthlessness when he can't protect loved ones. He'll experience an intense emotional crisis when a traumatic flashback triggers alongside a schizophrenic episode, leading to overwhelming distress and desperately turning to Tyra, Dilovar or Roberto for support. Additionally, jungles evoke painful memories of the Survival Island Occupation, fueling his deep-seated fear of becoming lost, suffering the brutal loss of his friends, and being exploited as a sacrifice.

He secretly admires Marco for his major contributions to the Peregrine Falcons Squad's successes. He views Eri as a protective older sister and regards Roberto as the older brother he never had, despite being his distant cousin. He's good friends with Trevor, often doing graffiti in abandoned buildings or smoking weed and talking about random things. He's also on good terms with Nadia, enjoying food challenges, beach trips, and shopping sprees together, and he likes to try out different outfits she suggests for him. He absolutely despises Gimlet and frequently clashes with him over his unwanted advances on Tyra and his racist, sexist, and sanist bullying of many people, including cadets. However, a small part of him respects Gimlet for his role in the Arms Deal Barrage and empathises with his struggles with substance abuse.

Walter loves his adopted Martian son, Pocke, with the devotion of a caring father. He will stop at nothing to keep him safe, and enjoys showering him with attention through conversation, playtime, and gentle affection. Pocke's silly antics and curiosity have captured his heart, but his tendency to knock things off the counter and pick up potentially hazardous objects can be slightly maddening. He deeply cherishes the pets Dilovar gifted him after helping him settle into a new home following the Survival Island Occupation: Spawoise, a Moluccan cockatoo; Maristela, a sunset ball python; and Zeph, an agouti Siberian Husky with heterochromatic eyes (green on the right and amber on the left).

Dilovar is his closest friend and he thoroughly enjoys spending time with him, appreciating his quirky humour, lively nature, comforting presence, and awe-inspiring determination. He has a brotherly relationship with Dilovar, marked by occasional heated disputes and good-natured joking. However, he either finds Dilovar's flamboyant, playful, and joking suggestions and antics that are directed towards him to be arousing or unsettling. Initially, he clashed with Tyra, perceiving her as overly confident, showy, and disturbingly cold. Despite this, he maintained a level of respect for her, largely driven by his disgust at the idea of mistreating a woman. He was also aware of her reputation for being merciless and aggressively aloof towards those who crossed her, so he made a conscious effort not to push her boundaries. His true motivation for initiating a short-lived rivalry with Tyra was rooted in jealousy, wanting to surpass her fearlessness in combat and wilderness survival.

As they opened up and formed a platonic bond that blossomed into romance, he became increasingly protective of Tyra, often going out of his way to help her, even when she was capable of handling things on her own. His gratitude for her unwavering support, combined with his admiration of her stunning physical beauty and military prowess, fueled his growing devotion and deepened his strong romantic feelings for her. He’s incredibly affectionate towards Tyra, frequently showering her with physical affection and well-meaning compliments. He often hugs her tightly, rubs his face against hers, and showers her with love through various types of kisses, ranging from a gentle peck on the cheek to a passionate French kiss. He sometimes gets into heated arguments with Tyra over things they disagree on or when he does something foolish. However, he occasionally doesn't bother to fight back because he finds her intimidating when she's really angry. Instead, he'll often give her some space after they're done arguing.

He’s a utilitarian who believes that people should not dwell on the consequences of their actions because the results only occur in the future. Instead, he thinks they should focus on happiness, which is the only intrinsic value that matters in determining our goodness or wickedness in life. He believes that actions causing unhappiness are wrong and that everyone's happiness deserves equal consideration when making decisions. He advocates for the right to self-defence, even when it may result in harm to others, particularly when faced with a genuine and immediate threat. Furthermore, he believes that proportionate defensive measures are justified against entities that violate the principle of non-aggression and pose a threat to others. He believes that the cycle of life and death are interconnected and that if one were to suddenly vanish or become overpowered, the equilibrium of the universe would collapse in on itself.

Backstory: Walter Evangelos Mulryan was born on February 14, 2011 in Rockhampton, Australia. His mother, Chloe Mulryan, whom he refers to as Mama, was once a mercenary for the Regular Army before retiring to start a family, and later became a geologist and avid adventurer. He has a Portuguese stepfather, Valério Medeiros, a construction manager who was a former member of the Serapion Fellowship who defected due to their morally reprehensible beliefs and practices, including brainwashing and human exploitation. He has two half-sisters: Lúcia Medeiros, his older half-sister and a fashion designer, and Betânia Medeiros, his younger half-sister and a dermatologist. He has a maternal aunt, whom he affectionately calls Auntie, who would often babysit him and read him books about nature and Australian history. He has a distant cousin on his father's side, Roberto, whom he first met at a family gathering in Portugal.

He often describes Mama as "one wild lady" and cherished their adventure-filled times together. However, she had a tendency to baby him excessively and shower him with disproportionate attention. When Mama was away, he would spend hours with his half-sisters, Lúcia and Betânia. They would dress him up in pretty dresses, apply makeup, and share their aspirations with him. Lúcia would tell Walter stories about her crushes, school dramas, and lessons from her courses. He felt uneasy being around his stepfather, who treated him and his half-sisters with a stern, militaristic demeanour. Valério was disproportionately strict with him, largely because he was the product of an extramarital affair. He describes Auntie as similar to Fio in terms of her demeanour, but she leans more towards conspiracy theories, and she's notably more aggressive and confrontational when defending her loved ones.

He was once extremely shy and heavily reliant on Mama, which frustrated his stepfather, who did his best to encourage self-reliance. However, his efforts were often in vain, as Walter would frequently ignore his encouragement, instead isolating himself in his room for hours until dinner or spending most of his time outdoors. When Walter turned 3, his stepfather's frustration sometimes boiled over into physical punishment or verbal belittling. This traumatic treatment left him fearful of speaking up, causing him to become mute. During this period, he learned sign language and discovered a natural musical gift, exhibiting talent in playing the guitar and keyboard, and emerging as a budding prodigy. Despite being shy, he struggled with anger issues, lashing out at his peers during playground and school interactions, frequently getting into fights and physically intimidating others, which landed him in frequent trouble.

At a New Year's Eve party, Walter, who had been mute for nine years, surprisingly spoke up, asking where Mama was, marking a turning point in his journey toward self-confidence and self-reliance. The entire family was stunned, having lost hope that he would ever regain his voice. However, Valério remained skeptical, attributing his mutism to attention-seeking behaviour and a lack of courage to assert his independence. This action would earn his stepfather a sliver of respect and pride, despite viewing Walter as an unwanted burden and a stain on his marriage to Chloe. Shortly after this moment, he would receive a diary as a gift from his Mama.

He endured school bullying for being different, struggling with self-reliance, and having interests that didn't align with traditional masculinity. He tried to focus on his studies and ignore the bullying, but the constant harassment often proved too much, leading him to lash out verbally or physically in self-defence on multiple occasions. A schoolyard scuffle would lead him to inadvertently discovering his imperfect clone abilities in secondary school. During an altercation, a girl kicked him in the groin, causing him to double over in pain. As he did, his hidden skin flaps and fleshy tendrils were exposed. In that moment, he unintentionally crushed the girl who had hurt him to death, which left him visibly shaken. After that, people saw him as a freak of nature and were terrified, including his small group of friends, who went out of their way to avoid him at all costs.

He would eventually learn from his Mama that he’s an imperfect clone of his Greek father, conceived through in vitro fertilisation using his father's sperm and bioengineered DNA. He was a scientist for the Amadeus Syndicate and one of Doctor Amadeus’ top researchers. However, he attempted to steal sensitive documents detailing unethical experiments and cloning technology, and mysteriously disappeared before Walter was born. Walter was supposed to have a twin brother, but his brother tragically died in the womb. It made him realise that this revelation seemingly contributed to Valério’s animosity toward him and the fear others harboured for him.

Over the next few years, Walter developed white knight syndrome due to repeated abandonment by friends, unsuccessful pursuit of romantic love and exploitation by partners he tried to help. Feeling inhuman and unimportant, exacerbated by his stepfather's emotional unavailability and mother's increasing absence, further eroded his self-worth. Additionally, bullying for his physical appearance and societal beauty standards led to body dysmorphia, culminating in anorexia nervosa. The cumulative stress, exacerbated by his stepfather's neglect and stringent expectations, coupled with the recent traumatic loss of his Auntie in a car accident, triggered symptoms consistent with paranoid schizophrenia, although no official diagnosis has been made. Amidst this turmoil, he found solace in playing the guitar and keyboard, singing, nature documentaries, and the support of his two half-sisters.

By the time he was in grade 11, he dropped out of high school during a difficult period of depression in the winter. Struggling to find direction in life, he experienced a crisis that led him to consider harming himself. One night, while contemplating jumping off the Neville Hewitt Bridge, a group of passersby noticed him and intervened, offering support and persuading him to reconsider. These delinquents would take Walter in, understanding his struggles and making him feel accepted, giving him hope of finding purpose in life.

From that point on, he became involved in crime, committing illicit activities such as car break-ins, vandalism, credit card fraud, and physical altercations. He also began to express his individuality through tattoos and piercings. Additionally, he developed an interest in self-defence, studying Krav Maga, and physical fitness, practicing callisthenics. He and his newfound friends started a hip-hop alternative rock band with Walter as the lead singer, which slowly grew in popularity. During a wild party at a friend's house, he developed a barbiturate addiction, had a reckless encounter with a prostitute, and received his first bong: a neon-coloured, floral-patterned one that he still treasures. Walter eventually abandoned his rock band due to his struggles with a barbiturate addiction, overwhelming fan expectations, and unwanted attention. Fans, particularly young girls who found him attractive, male peers jealous of his talent, and harsh critics, added to the pressure.

After a near-fatal drug overdose and being sent to juvenile detention for the third time, Walter's stepfather intervened, urging him to turn his life around or face homelessness. With support from Lúcia, Betânia and his Mama, Walter entered drug rehabilitation and overcame his barbiturate addiction. While caring for the household, seeking employment, and being homeschooled by his Mama and Lúcia, Walter discovered an online recruitment ad for the Peregrine Falcons Squad at age 18. Seeing this as his calling, he volunteered without hesitation, promising his mother he'd stay in touch via phone on a weekly basis.

After earning decent grades on the written tests, he enlisted in the P.F. Squad, joined by five former delinquent friends—Ivanhoe, Maximilian, Brody, Rylan, and Uriah—who sought a renewed sense of purpose and the opportunity to protect others. However, his reputation as an imperfect clone, combined with his ill temper and harsh treatment of those he disliked or distrusted, made it challenging for others to approach or trust him. His temper was notoriously volatile, frequently leading to cafeteria fights, where he and his friends would overpower their fellow cadets who dared to provoke him. On rare occasions, these altercations nearly turned fatal. As a result, his former drill instructor, known for being exceptionally strict, isolated him and his friends from the rest of the group and placed them into the "misfit batch”, alongside Dilovar and Tyra.

During training, he befriended Dilovar after a lively conversation about their shared enthusiasm for military service, bonding over beers and a weed break. He struggled to trust Tyra due to her overconfidence and aloof demeanour, which sparked jealousy when he witnessed her fearlessness during training exercises. This led to a rivalry between them, with both striving to outdo the other in the intense training courses. Their competitions frequently ended with either Tyra emerging victorious or a tie, but these encounters gradually fostered a strong friendship and deep mutual respect. Despite this, his time in the P.F. Squad helped him hone his skills in paradummy tactics and better control his imperfect clone abilities. Through their rigorous training programs, he discovered a community of trustworthy peers, developed self-confidence in his physical prowess and mental resilience, and became more laid-back and open to forming lasting, loyal relationships.

Initially hesitant to participate in the final P.F. Squad training program, he harboured a nagging feeling that something would go terribly wrong. However, with Dilovar's reassuring words of encouragement and Tyra's playful teasing about being a coward, he pushed aside his doubts and joined the others in the final training course. After being dropped off at a remote South Pacific archipelago by boat, Walter reunited with his friends from Australia and teamed up with Tyra. Together, they ventured deep into the jungle, discovering a clearing with a nearby freshwater stream, where they constructed makeshift shelters centred around a communal campfire.

While searching for Tyra, who had vanished during a hunting expedition, he stumbled upon a suspicious blood trail. It led him to an encampment of Rebel Army cadets, where he found Tyra and aided her in defending herself against them. Later that day, he stumbled upon the lifeless bodies of Ivanhoe, Maximilian, Brody, Rylan, and Uriah beside the stream, victims of a deadly ambush by Rebel Infantrymen and cadets who had seized their weaponry and equipment. The trauma of losing the people who had first welcomed him triggered a debilitating mental breakdown. Fortunately, Tyra was by his side during this incident, and her kindness and support deepened his affection for her, revealing a warmer side of her that captivated him.

He didn’t hesitate to charge forward, driven to uncover his true worth while exacting vengeance on the Rebel Army for their past transgressions. As Tyra searched for a radio tower, Walter focused on finding Formor and stumbled upon an abandoned building in a destroyed site, surrounded by discarded military vehicles and a functional SV-001. Inside, he saw Amadeus Syndicate scientists collecting body parts from the mutilated corpses of Rebel bodyguards and P.F. Squad cadets, but Walter swiftly retreated before they detected him. Later, while navigating a village of South Pacific K'antu Q'ente huts, he encountered and battled a couple of frenzied creatures resembling mantis and simian monsters. To his dismay, they turned out to be transformed fellow cadets and Intelligence Agency agent hostages.

During his journey, he fell into a trap set by Allen O'Neil, who had disguised himself as one of his drill instructors. Allen O'Neil had deliberately misled him, ordering him to press onward under the pretense of stopping the Rebel threat. He was swiftly captured by the K'antu Q'ente ("bird people" in Quechua), who planned to sacrifice him to Itzamná. This was after Allen O'Neil had brainwashed them into believing Walter was a worthy candidate to appease their god. In the altar room, the K'antu Q'ente meticulously prepared their sacrificial ritual. They fed and cleaned Walter before securing him to a stake placed before an ancient statue of Itzamná. Then, they carefully positioned poison-spewing maggots on his body, which would later leave him with a lasting fear of larvae. Just as the sacrifice was about to begin, Dilovar and Hyakutaro peacefully intervened, rescuing Walter and joining forces with the natives to combat the Rebel Army.

During a fierce battle against Logan, who was piloting Karn, and his fanatic land troops, Walter attempted to dodge a blast from Karn's turret-mounted cannon. However, his attention was diverted by a Rebel soldier trying to launch a surprise attack, momentarily distracting him. The brief lapse in focus proved costly, as the blast severed Walter's right arm. He was forced to temporarily retreat and receive urgent medical assistance from Rumi. Consumed by rage and a desire for vengeance, Walter fatally shot Logan with a shotgun after he attempted to escape the destroyed Karn, avenging Tyra's kidnapping and harm.

Shortly after the Survival Island Occupation, he graduated with the highest honours alongside Tyra and Dilovar. He then joined Division 6 after Hyakutaro extended an invitation to him, and he rose to the rank of Sergeant Major. Later, Tarma built him a cybernetic prosthetic, which he greatly appreciates. During a mission to thwart a pirate raid on a cargo ship carrying valuable Regular Army military weapons and biotech, he unexpectedly reunited with Roberto, whom he thought he'd never see again.

[aurelion-solar]

Prestige Masque of the Black Rose Katarina Concept Art - Thomas Randby

[capriddle]

My Black sisters are full of different talents, especially:

Bellatrix: skilled in writing, organization, magic, and the use of melee weapons;

Andromeda: skilled at reconciling, pretending, discovering secret information;

Narcissa: skilled in the arts in general, plays the piano, draws very well and can dance.

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Mayuri Kurotsuchi (Bleach) -Oneshot

You weren't certain how you got so unlucky. Ichigo always told you that this captain was a psycho. You should have taken it more seriously. Because when you discovered your abilities, the Head captain assured you that they would be able to help to avoid another breakdown like you had in the world of the living.

Splitting a building in half.

You were scared. Terrified that you would hurt someone. You'd gotten lucky that the structure was abandoned, but the next time you wouldn't be as fortunate. So here you were, in the soul society, hiding.

"I just need to make it to Rukia, then she can open that freaking portal and get me out of here."

You had one meeting with Mayuri Kurotsuchi and that was enough. He went on a tangent about all the experiments he wanted to conduct and it became clear that he had no interest in helping you hone your skills.

"There she is Nemu."

You flinched from your spot behind the wall. You weren't even offered a chance to run.

"W-Wait!!"

"Knock her out."

With a swift tap to the back of your head, your vision faded.

~~

"Such bothersome creatures, humans."

You were laying on the table and Mayuri moved closer, holding the needle.

"Master, if you'd explained to her that we were actually trying to help she might have been more willing."

Mayuri just grinned.

"Everything I do has a purpose. Powers such as hers are typically more prominent when she's in fear. I was merely checking to see if I could urge a fraction of that energy. I was right. You saw it didn't you?"

Nemu nods.

"Yes master, her reiatsu is quite raw. Humans in the world of the living are quite unique."

"Indeed they are. I will enjoy this."

He pressed the needle into your skin, watching the liquid slide beneath your skin as he stepped away.

"Now we wait until she wakes up. You're dismissed."

"Yes master." Nemu bowed, walking away.

Mayuri's gaze moved back to your form. You shifted against the table, and his eyes narrowed.

"Is she waking already?"

You should have been asleep for at least another hour, especially with what he'd just administered into your bloodstream. He placed the needle down, moving closer. Your eyes opened lazily, and Mayuri just folded his arms.

"How unusual, you're already awake."

It took a moment for you to gather your bearings, but when you did, your eyes shot open. You jolted upright.

"What the hell did you-"

Your statement dropped at the end, and your body disappeared. Mayuri grinned, and you staggered when you reappeared a distance away, eyes shaking in shock. You straightened, and Mayuri just watched you proudly. Your eyes drifted to your hands.

"W-What just happened..."

"I believe I fixed your problem."

You just stared at him. Because although he'd literally kidnapped you and possibly slipped some crazy evil genius serum in your veins, you couldn't deny that something felt different. It all felt lighter, like you'd dropped some heavy weight.

"Would you like to learn more?"

His grin was wide, because you knew he could see your eagerness to understand what happened. He would no doubt put you through some crazy trails, but your curiosity was brimming. You needed to know.

"I do."

Exactly what he wanted to hear.

~Four Months Later~

"WHAT THE HELL MAYURI!!"

You were being chased by a hollow and Mayuri just watched.

"I told you that your reiatsu was growing. You should never let your guard down."

"NO SHIT!!"

You spun around, clenching your fist. When it jumped at you, your legs grounded and you fired a punch. The base of your hand connected with its mask and the shockwave of energy caved the hollow's mask in, sending a rush of wind that batted against the trees present. The hollow disintegrated almost instantly as the wind began to level out.

You huffed.

"Impressive, your spiritual pressure has grown quite a lot. Your abilities are still very sloppy, but there is always room for improvement."

A vein popped on your head at the statement.

"I'LL SHOW YOU SLOPPY!!"

This was nothing new.

Mayuri made you his little lap dog. Always testing out his crazy theories on you. The first time you mastered flash step, he'd failed to tell you that you were close to the Kuchiki clan's residence. So when you landed in Byakuya's koi pond and killed some of his precious fish, it's safe to say that you'd spent that night in the fourth squad barracks getting healed by Hanataro.

He was a menace to society. An effortless genius, but a bastard. After your outburst, you'd left and headed to hang out with Nemu and her little association. She was having tea with some of the other female reapers.

"Then he says that I'm sloppy, do you believe that!!"

Okay, so maybe you just came to vent.

Rangiku laughs.

"That does sound like him."

You sighed heavily.

"I just wish he'd help me without it always turning into me ending up with a dozen bruises. Is that too much to ask?"

" I understand you might be skeptical, but Master must have faith in your abilities."

You snort.

"Like if, he just enjoys having me around to mess with." You grumbled.

Nemu wore a smile.

"Master has never taken interest in anyone who wasn't on some level important. Especially humans. In his eyes, there is worth. It may not seem like it, and he will never say it, but to him, you matter."

The statement was not what you were expecting.

You didn't want to talk about it further, so you grabbed a cup of tea and downed it like alcohol as Yachiru cheered in the background.

As you were making your way back after hours of venting, her words still wouldn't leave you.

That's why when you headed to his barracks, it was just a distraction. Your trips to the soul society were usually you hanging out with Mayuri and ending up in some kind of crazy situation.

Although that was the truth, you could have walked away at any time. You didn't have to keep coming back.

"So why do I.."

You couldn't answer the question.

"He will never say it, but to him, you matter."

You blushed as the words played back.

"I-IT'S NOT LIKE I LIKE HIM OR ANYTHING!!"

"Quit your yelling."

The nonchalant voice was expected. You hadn't even realized that you walked into his personal lab.

The blue haired male standing before you was not who you expected to see.

"W-WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!!!"

"Would you seize the yelling."

His voice sounds agitated and you just pointed dumbly, because you knew that voice.

"M-M-Mayuri!!"

He ran a hand through his hair, disinterested.

"Who else would it be? Do you think I would let some stranger into my personal space to exploit my discoveries? I'd quicker dissect them."

A creepy smile grew on his face and you sweatdropped.

"Yep, that's definitely him."

It took you a moment to realize his hair was dripping, as if he just came out of the shower. He was moving around the room casually, yet you still kept your distance.

This was weird.

Your silence must have finally drawn his attention, because he turned to you, and your face heated up.

"Why are you suddenly so quiet?"

"N-No reason!!"

You waved frantically.

He didn't seem to buy that. With one step, he was standing right in front of you.

Mayuri leaned slightly to match your height, wearing that know it all grin.

"Did you fall in love with this face?"

"T-THAT'S RIDICULOUS!!"

His stupid smirk didn't leave, and all you wanted to do at that moment was punch him if nothing but to stop your embarrassment. His hand slid behind your neck, and you meant to question it, but his lips were suddenly pressed to your own, and all you could do was gape like a fish. His sapphire tresses tickled your forehead, and you couldn't help but take in the scent of his wash. It was almost intoxicating.

His tongue drifted over your lips teasingly and you couldn't stop the sound that escaped. Mayuri pulled back, tauntingly. Enjoying the dazed look in your eyes.

"You're transparent, (Y/N)."

You swallowed. Because during the entirety of your partnership, he'd never called you by your name. Nor has he ever looked at you like that.

"Nemu was right.."

It seems you've gained the attention of this crazy genius. You weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

[angstylittleguy]

Day 94

Bennett is still trapped in a time loop, one where Dalton experiences a growth spurt that exposes his powers, leaving Bennett to scramble to try to prevent it. // Part 1

tw: violence (implied), blood, trauma

character context: Bennett frequently gets stuck in time loops and the only way to get the loop to end is for him to survive the day. Dalton is a size-shifter whose height is affected by his emotions. Meiling is able to to move as quick as lightning, but the effects it has on her muscles and joints has long-term effects.

word count: 3.6k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Bennett’s eyes snapped open and he involuntarily took a big gulp of air, breath spilling into his lungs. The clock on his bedside table flashed 4:28 am, its relentless, looping certainty mocking him. Day 94. Ninety-four times he had woken up in this room, to this exact moment, and the crushing weight of his task pressed heavier on his chest with every repetition.

He sat up, the springs of the mattress groaning under his shifting weight. His room was exactly as it always was—the corner of his favorite band poster was still peeling off the wall, notebook paper was still scattered across his desk, and Josiah’s bedroom was still painfully vacant—all frozen in place, like actors who never tired of performing the same scene. 

But today felt different. Not because anything around him had changed, but because Bennett himself had. The frustration, the weariness, the endless strain of trying to fix a world that refused to stay fixed—it was all boiling over.

He stalked to the bathroom, flipping the light switch with his elbow. Bennett drew another tally mark on his skin with the sharpie marker. He couldn’t bear the sight of his reflection. He was unscarred. No scrapes, scratches, or bruises to show what he had been through. Bennett didn’t even have bags under his eyes. 

He pulled on his hoodie and jeans with mechanical efficiency, his mind already racing. Focus, Bennett. No time to wallow. You need to try something new.

Everything he’d tried had failed. Talking to Dalton hadn’t worked. Calming him hadn’t worked. Fighting him hadn’t worked. It was like the loop itself was conspiring to unravel their lives, no matter what he did. Well, fuck you too, universe.

Bennett slipped out of his dorm room quietly. The hallways were dead silent, no one in their right minds awake this early. He pulled his hood over his head, yanking on the strings. Bennett went through everything from previous days—strategies, dead ends, desperate theories—but none of it had gotten him anywhere. 

Bennett left his dorm building, the chilly, November morning air biting at his nose. His eyes were focused on his feet as he walked, listening to the sound of his shoes on asphalt. He didn’t need to know where he was going, his feet carried him on muscle memory now. They knew the way to Dalton’s house even if Bennett was sleep-walking. He had made the trek for nearly eighty days now. 

The thought made him slow to stop. 

He couldn’t stop Dalton if he didn’t understand what was happening.

Bennett was done winging it. He’d treated the loop like a puzzle to solve with brute force: fix Dalton, stop the chaos, and the loop ends. But ninety-four days of failure said otherwise. Maybe there was something he missed.

Bennett changed course. The library wouldn’t open for hours, but Bennett knew how to get in. He’d done it before, back when he thought the loop was just a weird fluke that would fix itself after a few days. 

The main doors were locked, as expected. Bennett ducked around to the back, where the staff entrance was. The lock was old, and he jimmied it open with practiced ease.

The library’s faint, musty smell hit him as he stepped inside, the dim glow from the emergency lights casting long shadows across the rows of bookshelves. 

His fingers brushed over the spines of books he hadn’t thought to look at before: physics, philosophy, mythology. He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly, but maybe that was the point.

He pulled a stack of books off the shelves and carried them to a table, dropping into a chair. The first book he opened was dense and filled with diagrams he barely understood, but he forced himself to read.

He found a sketch of a brain surrounded by looping arrows, annotated with theories about subconscious imprinting and emotional residue.

“Subconscious...” he muttered, tapping the paper with his index finger. He’d read the word a dozen times, but it hadn’t clicked. If the loop reset physical states and erased conscious memory, then what wasn’t being reset? 

“The hippocampus processes emotional stimuli... subconscious responses to trauma can persist despite amnesia…”

His breath hitched. Trauma. That was it. The loop was only designed to reset surface-level states—bruises healed, memories vanished—but emotions, instincts, and stress responses weren’t so easily erased. They were scars on the soul, not the skin.

Bennett’s pulse raced. It wasn’t just the loop causing this—it was the feedback cycle. Every loop compounded the emotional residue left behind, a snowball growing larger and larger until it was impossible to stop.

Dalton’s powers—triggered by emotion—were accelerating the effect.

He raced to the front desk of the library and searched for a pen. Bennett pulled up his hoodie and scribbled notes upside down on his stomach:

Subconscious retains residue → emotional imprint amplifies.

Dalton’s powers tied to fear/guilt → loop resets physical but not emotional.

Every reset = bigger snowball.

“Which means...” Bennett’s voice trembled as he traced the chain of logic. “Every loop makes Dalton more unstable. If this keeps going, I won’t be able to stop him.”

The thought made his chest tighten. He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to focus. If this memory glitch was amplifying the emotional residue, then reversing that process might stabilize Dalton. But how?

The faint sound of footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. He froze, listening intently as the sound grew louder, then stopped. A figure stepped out from behind a shelf, and Bennett’s heart skipped a beat.

It was a girl, probably his age, with shoulder-length dark hair tucked behind her ears. She wore an oversized jacket and sneakers, her hands stuffed casually into her pockets. Her gaze landed on him, curious but unafraid.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head. “The library’s closed.

Bennett stared at her for a moment, the pen still clutched in his hand. He lowered his shirt. His first instinct was to lie or make an excuse. But then, he thought, Why bother? She wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. None of them ever did.

“I’m stuck in a time loop,” he said bluntly, dropping the pen onto the desk. “Day ninety-four.”

Instead of the confusion or disbelief he expected, the girl just nodded, as if he’d told her something as ordinary as the weather forecast. “That’s rough,” she responded.

Bennett blinked. “And why have you broken into the library at five in the morning?”

The girl just shrugged. “Wanted to see if I could.”

An awkward beat passed.

“So,” the girl finally said, “do you want any help?”

“Help?”

“With the whole time loop thing.”

Bennett frowned, suspicious. “You believe me? Just like that?”

“Yeah, why not? If you’re lying, whatever. If you’re telling the truth, helping you get out of a time loop is probably the coolest thing I’ve done in a while.”

Her logic was unsettlingly calm, but Bennett couldn’t deny the flicker of relief he felt at her offer. Ninety-four days of carrying this alone had frayed his nerves, and though he didn’t trust her yet, it was tempting to let someone else share the load for once.

Bennett studied her. The faint emergency lighting cast long shadows across her face, but her expression was relaxed, even playful. She looked as if she were discussing a movie plot, not the unraveling of reality.

“What’s your name?” he asked cautiously.

“Meiling,” she replied. “And yours?”

“Bennett.” He took a deep breath. “Well, Meiling, if you’re serious about helping, I don’t know how much use you’ll be. I’ve been at this for three months, and nothing’s worked. Unless you’ve got a PhD in physics or magic tricks, I’m not holding my breath.”

“Wow, three months?” She whistled low. “That’s a long time to be stuck in one day. What’s the deal? You have to save the world or something?”

“Something like that.”

Meiling tapped a finger on her chin. “Alright, hit me with it. What’s the situation?”

Bennett hesitated. The idea of explaining everything felt exhausting, but her easy acceptance of his predicament was oddly comforting. Maybe talking it through with someone new could help.

“Fine. Long story short: there’s this guy. He’s… unstable. Every time the day resets, it gets worse. I’ve tried talking him down, restraining him, everything. Nothing sticks because the loop resets it all.”

“Sounds like a tough gig,” she said. “So, what’s your next move?”

Bennett frowned. “That’s the problem. I don’t have one. I was hoping to figure something out here.” He lifted his shirt, showing off the notes he scrawled on his stomach with the pen. “But so far, all I’ve got is a theory that emotional residue doesn’t reset like everything else.”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to change the subject, but why are you writing all over yourself?”

“The ink on my skin doesn’t reset with the loop. If I wrote this down on paper, I’d just lose it tomorrow.”

Meiling raised her eyebrows. “Smart. A little weird, but smart.” She put her hands on her hips. “Alright, Bennett. You’ve got emotional residue, an unstable friend, and ninety-four failures under your belt. Let’s make sure the number doesn’t keep adding up.”

Bennett snorted. “Easy for you to say. I’ve tried almost everything.”

“Well, surely not everything. Explain it to me. What do we know so far?”

He let out a long breath. “Alright, I’ll explain, but you’re probably going to think I’m insane.”

Meiling leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing her arms. “Try me.”

“Every day, I wake up at 4:28. No matter what happens during the day—no matter what I do, or what I try—it always ends the same way.”

Meiling tilted her head. “The same how?”

“I die,” Bennett said flatly. His voice didn’t waver, but he shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Every single day. Sometimes it’s quick. Sometimes it’s… not. But no matter what, the loop resets the moment I die, and I wake up in my room like none of it ever happened.”

Meiling’s brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

“It’s been ninety-four days,” Bennett continued, his tone bitter. “Ninety-four times I’ve watched everything fall apart. Ninety-four times I’ve tried to stop it, to fix things, and every time I fail. I keep dying, and the world keeps spinning like it doesn’t even care.”

He looked up at her, waiting for the skepticism, the pity, the disbelief. But Meiling just nodded thoughtfully, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

“You die every day?”

“Yeah.” Bennett said, his voice edged with bitterness. “Every time I bite it, the loop starts over. It’s like the universe has decided my death is some kind of checkpoint.”

“That sounds like absolute hell,” she said.

“Tell me about it.”

Meiling frowned, leaning forward slightly. “So, if you stayed alive—”

“—The loop wouldn’t reset,” Bennett finished. 

“But if you know you’re going to die, why don’t you just… not leave your room? Stay put, ride it out.”

Bennett shook his head, a harsh laugh escaping him. “Believe me, I’ve tried. But I can’t bring myself to do it. That’s not an option right now. Not with Dalton getting worse every day. If someone finds out about him, or if he hurts someone... I can’t let that happen.”

“Dalton?”

He nodded. “He’s my friend.”

Meiling hummed. “What happens?”

Bennett hesitated. “It’s complicated. I don’t even fully understand it myself, but it’s bad. And the longer this loop goes on, the worse it gets. I’ve seen it spiral out of control too many times already. I have to stop him, but every time I try, I die before I can make it work.”

Meiling was quiet for a moment, her fingers drumming idly against her arm. Then she straightened up. “Okay,” she said, her tone brisk and decisive. “So, here’s what we’re going to do: we’re going to stop Dalton from doing whatever this terrible thing is, and we’re going to make sure you don’t die in the process. Deal?”

Bennett blinked at her. “That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ninety-four days.”

“But now you have me.”

Bennett didn’t know whether to feel relieved or uneasy. Meiling’s confidence was infectious, but her involvement complicated everything. People finding out about Dalton’s abilities is exactly what Bennett has been trying to prevent for the past ninety-four days. Telling Meiling what was going on seemed like another problem he’d have to figure out later. 

“Right,” Bennett muttered, glancing at her. “You’re all in, huh?”

Meiling shrugged. “You’ve been stuck in some twisted time prison for three months, fighting to stop a catastrophe. Someone’s gotta have your back.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Unless you think I’m just going to get in your way.”

 “I don’t know. It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple,” Meiling said. “You trust me enough to explain the whole you-die-every-day thing, but not enough to tell me what we’re walking into?”

Bennett chewed on his lip.

“You said Dalton’s your friend,” Meiling added. “If he’s in trouble, wouldn’t he want help?”

Bennett laughed bitterly. “You don’t know Dalton.”

Meiling folded her arms. “Then introduce me.”

“It’s not that easy. He… he doesn’t trust people. Especially strangers.”

“I don’t need him to trust me,” Meiling said, her voice calm but firm. “I just need him to trust you.”

Bennett swallowed the lump in his throat. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, let’s go.”

...

They reached the corner where Dalton’s house came into view. Bennett stopped, glancing over at Meiling.

“This is it?” she asked, her voice light but her eyes scanning the house warily.

“Yeah.”

They approached the door, Bennett already preparing himself for a disaster. He knocked.

Dalton’s footsteps could be heard from outside. Each pounding step made Bennett’s heart sink lower and lower into his stomach. The door opened; Dalton stood in the frame with a confused expression. He already looked a couple inches taller than usual. 

“Bennett?” He asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?” 

Dalton’s eyes cut to Meiling. “And who’s your friend?”

“This is Meiling,” Bennett told him, already uncertain. “We, uh—”

Dalton cut him off. “Come inside, I’m kind of in a rush. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Bennett exchanged a look with Meiling, then took a breath. “That’s actually why we’re here. I really think you shouldn’t go to your showcase.”

Dalton paused. Bennett could see the confusion turning in his eyes. “Why not?”

“Just trust me on this,” Bennett said, trying to sound confident. “Something isn't right. If you go—”

“I can’t just not go. It’s worth half my grade.”

“I really think you should skip.”

Dalton’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “It’s not just about me. My group and I have been working on this project for months. They’re counting on me to be there. If I don’t show up, I screw over everyone else, too.”

Meiling leaned against the wall, arms folded. “It’s not screwing them over if it’s for a good reason.”

“And what reason would that be?” Dalton asked, his eyes narrowing.

Bennett glanced over at Meiling. He couldn’t mention Dalton’s powers in front of her, that would send him over the edge for sure.

“Just listen to me,” Bennett pleased. “You don’t understand how serious this is.”

“You show up with some random girl to tell me—what? That I’m supposed to ditch the showcase I’ve been killing myself over? Come on.”

Meiling leaned against the wall, watching them carefully. “No one’s saying you have to drop the ball. Just—can’t you postpone for a few hours? Something’s off, and it’s safer if you stay here.”

Dalton paused, his bag slung over one shoulder. His brow furrowed as he glanced between them. “Safer? What’s going on, Bennett? You’re acting weird. And who even is she?”

“She’s… helping me,” Bennett said quickly, though the vagueness didn’t seem to ease Dalton’s suspicion. “You’ve just got to trust me, okay? If you leave, something bad will happen.”

Dalton hesitated, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. “Bennett, I do trust you. But this—this doesn’t make sense.”

Before Bennett could respond, Dalton winced and staggered, grabbing at his chest. His entire body twitched as if something deep inside him had suddenly shifted.

“Dalton?” Bennett’s voice rose, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Dalton clutched at the doorframe, his fingers leaving faint indentations in the wood. His shoulders seemed broader, his posture subtly changing. Then his frame started to expand—gradual at first, but quickly gaining momentum. His height surged upward, his arms stretching unnaturally long, muscles swelling beneath his skin.

“Dalton!” Bennett shouted, stepping forward. “You need to stop it.”

“I’m trying!” Dalton’s voice cracked, deeper than before. His knees buckled as he tried to crouch, but his growing limbs collided with the walls and ceiling, splintering wood and drywall.

“Bennett, what’s happening?” Meiling’s voice was sharp, panic creeping in.

“Just stay back!” Bennett shouted, his focus fixed on Dalton. “Dalton, you have to calm down!”

“I—I can’t!” Dalton’s arms flailed as he tried to brace himself, one of his massive hands knocking over a side table and sending it skittering across the room. His legs stretched awkwardly, one knee slamming into the wall and leaving a deep dent. The house groaned under the strain of his ever-expanding form.

“Bennett, what do we do?” Meiling’s voice was high and tight, barely masking her panic. She dodged another one of Dalton’s flailing limbs as it crashed into a lamp, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor.

Bennett’s mind raced. “Dalton, listen to me!” he shouted, stepping closer despite the chaos. “You need to focus. Breathe. Try to stop yourself!”

“I don’t know how!” Dalton cried, his voice booming now, full of raw fear. His enormous frame hunched awkwardly in the cramped room, limbs jerking in desperate, uncoordinated movements. One arm swung wide, knocking into the wall and tearing it open like paper.

The ground trembled beneath their feet as Dalton grew larger still, his back pressing against the ceiling. The room itself seemed to shrink around him.

“We need to get out of here,” Meiling yelled, grabbing Bennett’s arm, but Dalton’s rapidly expanding leg slammed into the floor, blocking the exit.

“Dalton!” Bennett yelled again, but his voice cracked with the strain. He could barely hear himself over the groaning of the structure. Dalton’s head tilted toward him, his massive, terrified eyes locking on Bennett’s face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dalton said, his voice trembling with desperation. “I don’t… I can’t control this!”

The words had barely left his mouth when a massive piece of ceiling collapsed, hurtling straight toward Bennett.

“Bennett, move!” Meiling shouted. In a blur of motion, she darted forward faster than humanly possible. One moment she was across the room, and the next she was at Bennett’s side, pulling him out of harm’s way just as the debris slammed into the ground where he’d stood.

The two tumbled to the floor, Bennett gasping for breath as his mind struggled to process what had just happened. “What the fuck?” he wheezed, staring at Meiling with wide eyes. “How did you—what—what was that?”

Meiling didn’t answer. She didn’t have time. Dalton’s leg shifted again, the massive limb sweeping toward them like a wrecking ball. She grabbed Bennett, hauling him to his feet, but her own movement was too quick and disjointed. One of Dalton’s enormous arms crashed down, pinning her against the wall. She struggled, useless against the sheer size of him.

“Meiling!” Bennett shouted, scrambling toward her, but Dalton’s foot shifted again, and the ground beneath Bennett gave way. He stumbled, landing hard on his back as a massive chunk of debris splintered from above and came crashing down.

“Bennett, no!” Meiling screamed, her voice raw as she strained against the massive limb trapping her. She pushed with everything she had, but Dalton’s weight was too much. She was stuck, helpless to move as the wreckage crushed Bennett beneath its weight.

Dalton froze, his massive form trembling as he realized what had happened. “No… no…” His voice was a whisper, full of horror, though it echoed like a thunderclap through the ruined room. “I didn’t mean to…”

Meiling’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to go silent except for the sound of Dalton’s ragged breathing.

Bennett lay there, unmoving, the world pressing in on him from all sides. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in as the sound of Dalton’s sobs became distant. Everything felt muffled, like the chaos unfolding around him was happening underwater, the weight of his own body sinking him deeper into nothingness. The pain in his chest was overwhelming, suffocating. He couldn’t hold on anymore.

And then, everything stopped.

It was as if the universe itself had decided to freeze, to hold its breath. The weight of the debris pressing down on him seemed to fade, the pain dulling into something almost unbearable, yet distant. Time warped, stretched like taffy, and for a moment, Bennett felt as if he were drifting, floating in a space without up or down.

And then...

Bennett’s chest heaved, a sharp, jagged inhale ripping through him. Oxygen burned as it filled his lungs, the rawness of it grounding him back into reality. 

The room was still. The weight of his body sank into the softness of the bed, the quiet of the early morning settling around him like a blanket.

His eyes fluttered open. The sun had not yet risen, the day still untouched by the nightmare that had just passed. Bennett was alive. But somehow, everything had changed.

tag list: @sandwichtheuhh / @gt-daboss / @kazuyumi1412 / @ewmoodboardblorbo / @isumietokyo / @litenmyra / @smol-n-smol / @thesillygoofygoober / @lady-bee-fechin/ @werifesteria20/ @liconich / @wadling-of-wadlimar / @chuuyas-height / @r0bi-n / @abygails / @pinapok / @cryingbreaskfastfriends

[bubblesxo]

tachihara hc

you know how he was put under so much pressure to be just like his older brother when he was growing up? well, once he was gone, the abuse and pressure of that eventually led him to develop an ability similar to his, or even a derivative of the same ability, according to the official Wiki page, which says:

"Similar to his younger brother's ability, Shunzen had the ability Midwinter Memento (真ま冬ふゆのかたみ, Mafuyu no Katami?),[3] which initially allowed him to produce items made of metal from between the pages of a book."

therefore, i headcanon that not only others, but also tachi himself at one point put himself under so much pressure that his body's/soul's way of alleviating this and helping him survive is to take on the same form as his brother