#and of course. how much of those odd changes in memories are meant to be apart of his fears. or just how he remembers the events himself

[arcade-confetti]

[dinnersyummy]

once more. (michael kaiser x reader)

summary: the relationship between you and kaiser was interesting—it was one sided in a few aspects. till he changed his ways, your relationship was bound to fail. one thing led to another and now it’s all crumbling.

cw: angst, not proofread, kaiser’s kinda ooc

a/n: around 1.4k words, this was a little drabble, there’s somewhat of a plot if you squint hard enough, the angst is kinda buns, hate this ngl (ignore how I misspelt his name the entire time! 😻)

A misunderstanding. A mistake. That’s what this all was—the tears, the anger, the memories. Voices overtop voices, Kaiser’s never known comfort nor love a day in his life. Constantly his past seeps into him leaving behind big, ugly stains. How much can he take till he snaps?

Insecurity or maybe distrust—was that what this was? You couldn’t tell anymore. The lines blurred together. You knew Kaiser couldn’t love like you did. You knew what you were getting into when you chose him. But truly, how were you meant to love him when he himself couldn’t do that? Your relationship was built upon hushed confessions in the dead of night, constant reassurances, and giving up anything for his happiness. It gets tiring, you can only give and give till there’s nothing left.

Kaiser was a mere scared boy at the end of the day—till he learnt how to love himself, he’d never truly be happy. In the beginning, he’d told you one too many times to never tell him you loved him. But you were selfish, you told him you loved him regardless. “Don’t fucking say things you don’t mean” or “Do you think you’ll be the one to change me? I don’t want your disgusting pity” or maybe “You’ll only love me for so long till you’ve grown tired. You’ll leave.” Excuses upon excuses, one day this house of cards is bound to break; that one day is today.

It started off as being brushed off, not too bad right? We all have our days. You had assumed maybe today it was one of those days. By the time the afternoon rolled around Kaiser had only gotten worse. From lashing out or blatantly ignoring you, it was getting on your nerves. What could you have possibly done to piss him off this much? simply put, It was immature—storming off without any warnings or sulking off in a corner. Clearly waiting for Kaiser to speak up wasn’t gonna happen, you had to take matters into your own hands.

You knock on the door of your shared bedroom—Kaiser’s locked himself up ever since lunch. “Micheal? Micheal I’m coming in.” The sight before you was surprising; Kaiser was disheveled to say the least, dark eye bags adorned his face whilst his eyes were glossier than usual. For a moment you two looked at each in silence, his eyes scanned your face as if you were gonna disappear. “What happened?” You softly asked as worry set in. You take another step forward “Do you wanna-“

“Stop.” You halted right away. Kaiser’s voice didn’t carry the usual softness it did instead, it was replaced with the same sharp and gruff tone he used for everyone else.

“What?..” You trailed off your voice barely above a whisper. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t take another fucking step near me” Kaiser barked.

“Why? What’d I do wrong?” You inquired voice laced with anger.

“Oh? What’d you do?” He laughed, “Don’t get all innocent on me now.”

You thought about it, what the hell did you do? “I’m not, I swear.” Kaiser glanced at you, “But please do enlighten me.” You spat out.

“Yesterday. Those messages. The cafe. That man. That hug.” Kaiser grumbled as his body stiffened up.

“Micheal? How’d you know about that?” You asked, a beat of silence passes. “Answer me.” You said sternly.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You received an odd message, it was from a cousin you hadn’t seen in ages. “What could he possibly want?” you murmured as you typed up a reply. He had asked to meet with you at a cafe. It was abrupt. No follow up nor greeting. Simply a time and a place. Of course you were weary about this but nonetheless you agreed.

Kaiser was beside you—his eyes peered over your shoulder. “Who are you texting?” He said coolly.

“Oh, just a relative!” You shot back, a warm smile took over your features. Kaiser looked unfazed by your explanation, “why would you respond that quickly? why do you seem so enthusiastic?” he thought to himself. He didn’t like it one bit.

The day comes to meet up with your cousin, your car mysteriously stops working. “Oh my GOD, can you please work!?” you yelled out as you kept on trying to turn on your car. Due to the ruckus you’ve caused, Kaiser finds you.

“Hm? What’s going on [Name]?” Kaiser asked as he leaned against the door of the garage.

“My car stopped working last minute, and I have somewhere to be. Remember that friend I mentioned the other day? Do you think I could borrow yours for now?” You quickly asked.

“I don’t mind driving you.” He replied, “who is she meeting up with that she needs to meet this urgently?” Kaiser thought to himself through gritted teeth.

“Yeah sure! If you don’t mind.” You replied giddily, Kaiser quickly went off to retrieve his keys.

He drops you off at this cafe—yet he doesn’t drive off. He parks somewhere where you can’t see him yet he could see you; Kaiser lurks. He tracks every movement you make like a hawk watching its prey. He notices the person you’re sitting with. A man. He notices the way you seem at ease—like you’ve known him for ages. Just who the fuck is he? Kaiser mumbles.

After what felt like long, agonizing hours you finally wrap up your conversation. You say your goodbyes and suddenly the man leans in. Kaiser bites down on his lip so hard he draws blood, “get away from her.” he kept repeating to himself like a mantra. You wrap your arms around him. This was his final straw.

After hugging your cousin goodbye, it turns out his mom had cancer. He came to let you know in person. You weren’t too close but still, you were worried for his family. You promised to keep in contact. You whipped out your phone to call Kaiser to come pick you up. He’d be here soon. The car ride home was..tense. You weren’t sure why but little did you know Kaiser was fuming.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“You can’t hide from the truth, really can’t just stick to one man, eh?” Kaiser snarled.

“Why the fuck were you watching me?” You lashed out, “Do you really think I’m that unfaithful?” It was always like this. You constantly had to prove yourself to Kaiser but yet never once did you doubt him. “Does it hurt to trust someone for once in your goddamn life?” You yelled. Kaiser quickly broke out into a frown.

“Hm? Is it so bad that a devoted boyfriend check up on his girlfriend? Is it so bad that I was worried?” You were done. He always constantly picked fights over shit that shouldn’t even be fought over. Your tired.

“Watching me from the windows, snooping through my phone, and now you’re disguising your insecurity as worry?” You cried out, you felt your eyes start to burn; tears were threatening to fall. “Kaiser, you’re ridiculous. it’s always fucking like this. I give you everything, I’m utterly devoted to you. But what do I get in return? Nothing. You never bother most days. You only turn to me when you need me but yet I stayed because no one would. But you constantly have to tear me down, you always find something to pick at. You make something out of nothing. I’m done, I’m really tired of this.” By now you were crying. You couldn’t help it. Kaiser simply stood there, you could have sworn you saw shock flicker across his eyes.

“I never told you to stay. Nor go through all that.” Kaiser said. This was it. This was your final nail in the coffin.

“So be it.” you screamed, “so fucking be it.” You grabbed your phone about to reach for the door handle.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna put up a fight?” Kaiser asked.

“No, because you’re not worth fighting for anymore.” With that you left. You walked out—you didn’t even bother to grab your stuff.

Kaiser sat in the deafening silence. Your words still rung in his head. He didn’t need you. You were simply nothing but a long term fling is what he kept telling himself. He couldn’t lie to himself any longer. One afternoon when he came home still expecting you to greet him, you didn’t. You weren’t there. Guilt was cruel but Kaiser was crueler. The weight of what he had lost finally sunk in. Before he knew it he was crying. Everything reminded him of you—it was sickening really. Little did you know he cried himself to sleep that night. He was left with nothing but himself.

[o-sachi]

Roses and Thorns ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ you always wondered what what his tattoo meant... and now you know

ଳ character; michael kaiser (bllk)

ଳ tags; angst, more angst, but comfort at the end, depiction of Kaiser's trauma, no y/n, gn reader

Roses naturally came in colors of red, pink, yellow...

But never blue.

Yet, that was the same flower that adorned his arm. From his neck and down to the back of his hand, a beautiful blue rose littered his pallid skin. You always thought it was a captivating tattoo and in many ways—it was what made Kaiser... Kaiser.

Throughout your relationship, your perception of him changes and so does your idea about what his tattoo might mean. You could have asked him directly why he had it done, but where's the fun in that?

You liked the mystery and besides, he never talked about it in the first place.

That led you to think that it was one of those tattoos that people get on a whim. Not all tattoos had a deep meaning—sometimes it's just cool to look at.

Kaiser doesn't seem like the sentimental type after all. The only thing he probably cared about in this world was football and hopefully... you.

However, that view changed the longer you've been together. After seeing more sides to him, you realized how naive and insensitive it was to box him as the kind of person who had no capability to feel deeply for anything else.

The world may know him as an arrogant prodigy, but only you knew everything else behind that. You knew the tireless dedication he had to the sport—spending many restless nights watching replays of previous matches. You knew the vulnerable Kaiser whenever he'd spend weeks away from you—missing you all the way from his fancy hotel room.

But even then, you still had no idea what his tattoo meant. In fact, the more you got to know the true Kaiser, the more doubtful you became of the countless theories you've conjured up about his ink.

Nevertheless, you were firm in your belief that you knew him inside and out. The tattoo could remain a mystery for all you cared.

But roses always came with thorns and you had to learn the hard way.

It had been a couple of weeks since you've last seen each other. Being a football superstar was cruel. What people don't see behind the glamour are all the lonely nights he spends away from your arms.

As soon as he saw you standing in the doorway of your shared condo, he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. He swayed you side-to-side, inhaling your scent that had dulled in his memory after all this time being apart from each other.

After being absent for so long, all he wanted was to sit back and relax with you—no fancy dinners or grand dates. None of that. All he wanted was to be cooped up in your arms until he fell asleep, only to wake up again in the morning.

You indulge him, of course. You wanted it too anyway.

Both of you were now sat on the sofa. It was one of those L-shaped sofas you'd see in home magazines. They were large, but the space was wasted on the two of you since you'd much rather be cramped together in a suffocating embrace. It was better that way.

You absentmindedly traced the black stems of his tattoo as you held him—as you always did. Although, it was a bit odd. Normally, at this point he'd be going in and out of sleep—fighting back the drooping of his eyelids so that he could keep talking to you.

But he was wide awake.

"You don't seem tired tonight huh?"

He huffs out. "Chugging 2 energy drinks after lunch wasn't the best idea."

"Seriously? 2? What for?" you asked, a bit puzzled.

"I figured it would give me enough energy to at least hang out with you a bit before dozing off again, but I miscalculated. That shit was strong..."

Oh... How can you be mad now?

You could only chuckle at his thoughtfulness. "We could always catch up in the morning, y'know? It's not like I'm gonna disappear."

"Eh, still," he retorts, stubborn as ever. "We haven't had a movie night in a long time anyway."

He a had point. Back then movie nights were frequent. Both of you loved it—chilling, eating popcorn, and watching a good flick before bed.

It was good timing. Before his long-awaited arrival, you had been planning on how to surprise him in little ways. You wanted to keep him on his toes and it just so happens you figured out a way to spice up movie night.

You downloaded a bunch of old romantic German movies. It would be a lot different from the usual movies that you'd watch, but he might appreciate watching a movie from his own country. He had a preference for English movies, that much you knew. It was the only thing he'd watch for some unknown reason.

Excited—you hopped off the couch at lightning speed, ready as ever to retrieve the hard drive with all your downloads. As soon as you set everything up, you were back in your earlier position with him on the sofa.

"What's up with the hard drive? You forgot to pay for your streaming account?"

You shook your head with a smile. "No, I just have a surprise~"

"Surprise huh?" A small smile formed on his face at the thought. What could be so surprising about a movie?

The film starts off with a pitch black screen before a soft song filters in. He quickly recognized that it was German—it was a German love song.

He only needed to hear that to know what the "surprise" was.

Kaiser bit his lower lip in anticipation, not that you knew what exactly he was anticipating in the first place.

He wanted to be wrong—so wrong. He hoped that he wouldn't have to see her. The woman with beautiful long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes... the woman who most resembled him.

His mother.

But fate had a funny way of curbing expectations because she was right there on screen, smiling at him.

How cruel was it that the movie you chose—out of all the German movies out there—it had to be this one.

You were quick to notice the resemblance too. The eyes... the smile... they were practically the same. Perhaps he was aware of it too with how he stiffened in your grasp.

But before you could point it out, he had excused himself. "I'll just go to the bathroom for a sec... don't wait up for me."

The sudden change of the air around him was one thing, but for him to let the movie playing without him was another. He'd always ask you to pause it if he had to leave even for a millisecond.

...Did you do something wrong?

Worry filled you to your bones. It was unusual, sure. Maybe you were overthinking it. But the longer you stayed alone on the sofa—in the darkness of the room—the less you believed that you were being melodramatic.

Maybe there was something wrong with the way he turned rigid upon seeing that woman. Maybe there was something wrong about the way he abruptly stood up and left.

Your thoughts got the best of you and you decided to check up on him. In his haste, Kaiser forgot to lock the door. So, there you were—standing by the door and staring at him.

There was something definitely wrong with the way he clutched the bathroom sink as he breathed raggedly.

You could see how his fingers turned white as he gripped his arm, almost as if clawing at the rose etched on his arm.

"What's wrong?"

Your voice snapped him back to reality. Truthfully, he didn't know what was wrong. He thought he had gotten over it all—how his mother left him and how his father treated him. But he was wrong.

There was a reason he avoided those kinds of films. He was scared she'd pop up... looking happy.. acting happy—in a world where she didn't have to be concerned with her own son.

But that's precisely it. He chose to run away from it all instead of confronting it. So now that he was faced with her after all this time of avoiding anything that evoked the concept of her—he broke down.

And he hated that he had to do it in front of you.

But it was involuntary. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

His silence told you enough—all you had to know was that he needed your embrace. To which, you indulge him again.

You cautiously made your way over to him, hovering your arms around him at first before finally pulling him into you. The air stilled around you and time stopped for a moment. Neither of you moved a muscle or spoke a word—feeling content to stay like this for however long.

Eventually, he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He turned around to face you, unbothered if you had to see how glassy his eyes became or if his mouth was fixed in a frown.

All this suspense caused a pit to form in your stomach. Your chest felt hollow and your hands were clammy. If he stayed silent another second longer, the water works would've kicked into high gear.

"Sorry... did I scare you?" he asked while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Sniffling a bit, you wiped your eyes as if tears have already rolled down—though, it definitely felt as if it had. "I... no, I was just worried about you. What's wrong? Please tell me."

The way you pleaded at him clenched his heart painfully. Kaiser pulled you in, planting your face into his chest. His hand caressed your hair with his chin poking the top of your head as he embraced you softly.

"Do you believe in the impossible?" he asked.

All train of thought stopped in an instant. You didn't like that this confrontation you were having was slowly turning into one of those philosophical discourse about the meaning of life and whatnot. All you wanted to know was what happened to him—plain and simple.

"That woman on the screen," he continued. "That was my mother."

The normal reaction would be shock, but it made sense. Perhaps this wasn't developing into that philosophical discourse you dreaded.

"Back then I thought I'd never have to see her in person. Maybe in one of her films, but in the flesh? I would only dream of it. But then..." he chuckles, reminiscing of the past. "Not long after that thought... I came across her on the street. Well, more like I was loitering and she was surrounded by fans while she made her way into a hotel."

His expression dropped at the recollection of such a bittersweet memory. "She never looked my way. She only smiled at the people vying for her attention. But it's funny isn't it?"

You had no idea what was so humorous about it. The revelations were coming too quick for you to let it all sink in. Silence was the only response available from you.

"Then, a week after that, the police took me away from my father." He lets out a stifled laugh out of disbelief. "And back then I thought I'd never get away from him."

"The impossible always seems to happen," he adds.

His past was just too sad, almost like it was taken from a sappy telenovela. But the fact that it was real rendered you speechless. All you could do was hug him tighter to show him that you were still with him.

With an ear to his chest, you could hear how his heartbeat went from erratic to steady. Letting that all out had calmed him down, thankfully. You felt yourself growing relaxed as well. Your eyes wandered to his arm—to the rose that entangled his limb.

To answer his question earlier—no, you didn't believe in the impossible. It's called impossible for a reason. But the sincerity in his voice had you thinking otherwise.

Blue roses... those are impossible too, you thought to yourself as your eyes trailed his tattoo. It could be another one of your silly theories, but the coincidence was hard to deny.

His hands stopped caressing your head, choosing to find purchase on your lower back instead. This prompted you to look up at him and the sheepish smile on his face.

"And..." he started again. "I thought it would be impossible for me to be loved..."

"Yet, here you are."

[🐟]: HELP THIS IS SO CHEESY I'M SORRY. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[simply-duo]

Okay I'm gonna go on a huge spiel about Yuto Inukai now because OH MY GOD YOU PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW THIS MAN MAKES ME FEEL. I'm sorry if something doesn't make sense I'm shaking rn.

Okay so he doesn't get as much attention in this song as in others as I'm fairly certain this is meant to be "Kenta's song" in a way so I'll be focusing on the one part that's his own.

The first verse is fairly simple, a typical for a Goku Luck song. The editing isn't anything special either but Hancho's eyes are really pretty <3

But the second verse is where I practically squealed.

The first line is a normal Hancho thing to sing and I want to say the skull is a reference to his illusion but that might be a reach. It's probably just edgy to be edgy. THE NEXT LINE HOWEVER-

YUTO WRAPPED IN CHAINS??? Obviously representing how he feels trapped in both the system and in his own body. But the lyrics give a more hopeful message, one I believe Hancho is giving directly to Yuto in the one way he can. Yuto is always the odd one out in Goku Luck with how easy he is to push around and his "naive" view of people and their ability to change into better versions of themselves. So many people berate him for this, including Hancho at one point (Inderectly of course because they don't share memories) so hearing him say something like, "Believe it and you can achieve it" is ASTOUNDING. It's showing the growing understanding between the two and I am HERE FOR IT!!

Also having Hancho appear for just the, "No doubt" part tickles my pickle.

NOW I'M GOING TO GO INSANE PLEASE STICK WITH ME HERE

THEY HARMONIZED. THEY FUCKING HARMONIZED!!! HANCHO AND YUTO INUKAI ARE FUCKING HARMONIZING IN A SONG!!!!

At first I thought it might have been Shion since his voice sounds the most similar to it out of Goku Luck BUT NO. EVERYONE IN THIS SONG HARMONIZES WITH THEMSELF SO THAT IS YUTO INUKAI WE ARE HEARING!!! For those of you not in the know in canon Yuto is never the one singing because Hancho comes out to do it every time, so hearing Yuto sing literally made me shake.

Of course it could just be Hancho singing in a higher pitch than usual but I highly doubt that given his range in previous songs and drama tracks. Besides, it also lines up with the lyrics before and the whole plot of the two halves coming to understand each other instead of living in fear of the other.

I honestly don't have much to say for the lyrics here since they seem to be more targeted towards the other prisoners (Or Kenta specifically is we assume this is "his" song) and not Yuto or Hancho. "Go dogo" is funny ig.

~~

I hope you enjoyed reading through my ramblings, PLEASE feel free to expand on anything or point out other things I WILL read it.

GOKU LUCK FOR THE WIN!!! GO LISTEN TO SCARFACE NOW!!!

[dragonwitch77]

Tiny

Chapter 2: One Month

One month.

That was how long Syringeon ordered him to rest. One month for his arm to recover properly.

Which was too long in Bittergiggle’s opinion.

A whole month without using his arm? That was impossible!

How was he supposed to do his jokes without his arm?! Without Philbert?! Philbert was his right-hand man in-jokes! Hehehehehe.

Jokes aside, Bittergiggle needed his arm back in working order. He had a lot of stuff that required two hands to handle them, and being reduced to only one arm was a serious setback to his plans.

And a hindrance to his normal escape routes in the Kingdom.

An arm that was in recovery wasn’t something he could work around, especially if he ran into the Sheriff. Bittergiggle was fast on his feet, but Toadster was pretty quick with his throwing stars, and the jester wasn’t keen on having more injuries to his body just yet.

Not until his arm was fully healed first.

Which meant that he couldn’t risk being on the same floor with the Sheriff.

For a whole month.

It was torture.

Bittergiggle loved company.

He loved being around other living, breathing, talking beings. Beings who could talk back and share conversations with him. Beings who could tolerate his presence. Beings who, if they were being nice, would only roll their eyes in disinterest of his jokes instead of telling him outright how bad his jokes were.

Beings who didn’t outright hate him.

Of course, the only being Bittergiggle could think on the top of his head who could possibly fit all those things was his minion/pet Kittysaurus, and she was still in the Kingdom back in her room. And that was too much of a risk to take.

So weighing his options, Bittergiggle decided to stay on the floor below the Kingdom until his arm healed enough to go back.

And it was torture.

For someone who strived on social interactions, Bittergiggle had a hard time keeping his sanity in check. It didn’t help that his clothes were in a bad state and he couldn’t change them, but the surroundings reminded him of old memories.

Memories he wished not to revisit as they tended to open some nasty wounds.

Yet it was pretty hard to ignore most of them, so Bittergiggle chose to stay in the one place that had the least amount of fond memories. The Introduction Sector.

It was really the only place Bittergiggle didn’t have any fond or grand memories. A room with a big screen? Hardly anything to look at. And since the humans didn’t bother to come down to the lower levels these days, Bittergiggle was left to his own devices to do whatever he pleased in the place.

Which, to be honest, wasn’t very much.

With only one arm that wasn’t in a sling, Bittergiggle had, and could, literally nothing to do except sit around telling jokes to an empty room. 

An empty room wasn’t a great audience, mostly due to the lack of an audience to hear his jokes. As much as he was aware of how bad his jokes were, Bittergiggle still wanted someone’s opinion on some of them.

Kittysaurus always liked them, but she was his loyal friend, and she couldn’t really tell him what she thought about his jokes. His two clones back at his hideout never gave him their opinion.

In fact, they never spoke a word to him, and he was starting to think that maybe they weren’t even alive at this point.

Which was disappointing. Two more failed potential ultimate jokesters. Four dead clones out of six. Seven? He wasn’t sure if he should count the one that could split into two as a single being or two separate beings who could merge into one.

Bittergiggle wasn’t sure where he messed up on the cloning process with that one, and sure as heck he didn’t miss their bickering. And he certainly didn’t miss Bittershiggle’s odd speaking mannerisms. Bittergiggle could never tell if they were being threatening, honest, or joking when they spoke.

He was glad those two (Three?) were gone. 

Though, as time slowly passed, Bittergiggle was starting to wonder if he could actually tolerate their presence right now. He wouldn’t mind having someone tell him how bad his jokes were just as long as he had someone to talk to.

He was beginning to debate if he should go find Bittershiggle or the split jester, just so he wouldn’t be lonely anymore, when the seat he was sprawled out on was suddenly kicked over.

“Wha–HEY!” Bittergiggle shouted, scrambling to sit up. To his surprise, he found Syringeon staring down at him.

Or rather, glaring down at him.

“Syringeon? What are you doing up here?” Bittergiggle asked, perplexed and startled to see the four-armed Mutant here instead of his home. 

Ever since the failed rebellion, Syringeon had been permanently moved down to the lower levels of the facility. The humans kept him under strict watch, meaning he couldn’t go to the upper floors without the humans being notified of his movements.

But to see him out of Cityngeon? That was surely something Bittergiggle would never think Syringeon would risk!

The jester’s eyes widened, looking around in worry. “Not that it isn’t great to see you, but you know you can’t be up here, right? The humans might spot you and think there might be another rebellion in the making!”

Syringeon didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t say anything.

The surgeon’s eyes were in a deep glare, piercing Bittergiggle down with a cold, almost murderous gaze that the jester couldn’t help but feel small under the older Mutant’s glare.

Bittergiggle’s eyes darted around. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He was glad to see some company, even if said company wasn’t currently glad to see him, but he didn’t understand why Syringeon was giving him such an ominous stare.

He hadn’t seen the surgeon since he reattached his arm. And that was a month ago!

A month ago.

Bittergiggle’s eyes darted to his arm. He hadn’t paid it much attention, but now that he thought about it, it had been a full month since the surgery. Which means he was all better to return to the Kingdom.

And try to think of the ultimate joke to tell the Queen.

“Are you here because of my arm?” Bittergiggle asked, wiggling the said arm. “That’s nice, but it’s really not worth risking coming up here to see me–”

“I’M NOT HERE BECAUSE OF YOU!” Syringeon roared, startling Bittergiggle enough to flinch back and cover his face.

Syringeon was well known for his hair-trigger temper, and Bittergiggle was not keen to be on the receiving end of such temper from the surgeon.

“… Well, no, actually I am.” The sudden shift in tone startled Bittergiggle, peeking through his hands to curiously glance at the surgeon. “Though I really wish it wasn’t such the case. Especially with you involved.” He growled, narrowing his eyes at the jester.

The frowning half of Bittergiggle’s face fell deeper, drawing a thin line on his grinning side. “Yeesh. Feeling the love here.” He rolled his eyes as Syringeon hardened his glare back on him again. “Tell me, what exactly did I do? The last time I saw you was when I needed Philbert reattached, and that was a month ago! I haven’t seen you till now!”

“And yet, you manage to do the unthinkable.” Syringeon growled, tapping his foot on the ground.

“Unthink–? What are you talking about? What did I do?” Bittergiggle asked, more confused than ever. He really had no clue what Syringeon was saying. He really hadn’t been back down to Cityngeon since his surgery. Bittergiggle knew Syringeon could only tolerate him for so long as a patient, and the jester knew it was best to leave the surgeon alone if he wanted to keep his arm on.

He hadn’t been back to Cityngeon since then, so he had no clue as to why Syringeon was angry with him. Even as he tried to think back on anything he might have done, Bittergiggle couldn’t think of anything he did that could possibly earn such ire.

“You really have no clue?” Syringeon asked, earning a head shake from Bittergiggle. Rolling his eyes with a disgruntled scowl, Syringeon pointed at the jester. “Hold yer hands out.”

“… what?”

“Do it.” Syringeon hissed, his tone hinting that he wouldn’t tolerate the jester’s lack of cooperation.

Wordlessly, Bittergiggle held out his hand. He quickly figured he wasn’t holding them out the right way when Syringeon’s glare became deadly, and quickly adjusted their position till he was holding them right out in front, looking like he was asking for something.

He wasn’t asking for anything, but Bittergiggle got something anyhow from the surgeon.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but now Bittergiggle had taken notice that Syringeon’s lower set of arms carried something. It was small, and wrapped in a cloth, and it was quickly passed to the jester’s waiting hands.

“Don’t drop it.” Syringeon commanded as Bittergiggle stared at the bundle in confusion.

The jester glanced curiously at the surgeon before turning his focus back on the bundle. Getting in a more comfortable seating position, Bittergiggle lowered the bundle to his legs, wondering if this was some sort of trap or something Syringeon cooked up and wanted to test out on him instead of one of his tens of hundreds of children.

He wanted to be more cautious, but couldn’t do much under Syringeon’s dark watchful glare. At least he was certain that the Mutant wouldn’t kill him… probably. The surgeon had offed a few of his own kids before, so Bittergiggle wasn’t so sure if the mad doctor would be so merciful to him. Even when he had no clue as to why he was so angry to begin–

Bittergiggle jumped, yanking his hands away from the bundle.

Did he imagine it? Or did he just see movement?

His eyes darted to Syringeon, but the Mutant just glared at him, all four arms crossed across his chest and giving him a gaze that dared him to try anything stupid.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Bitergiggle looked down at the bundle, now more cautious than ever as he grabbed the fabric. Slowly, he pulled away at the cloth, his nerves on high alert as each fold of the cloth was pulled away as his mind ran a million miles with questions.

What was it? What could it be? Why did Syringeon give it to him? Why was he so mad? What did he do to make the surgeon angry at him? He couldn’t recall anything that might have made him mad, so why was he angry at him? Had he done something without knowing? And if so, why give him a bundle instead of outright using his surgical hands on him? And what was so important that he had to leave Cityngeon just to give it to him?

Questions circled Bittergiggle’s mind as he slowly unraveled the bundle, becoming more and more nervous as the last of the cloth was pulled away.

It all came to a crashing halt when Bittergiggle saw what was hiding inside the fabric. He looked at Syringeon, fear, shock, and alarm clear on both halves of his face.

“Yep.” Syringeon scoffed. “Congratulations.” He continued in mock praise as Bittergiggle stared in horror at his lap. “Yer a father.”

🧪

Givanium.

A rare, highly potent chemical that, if handled correctly, could bring certain inanimate objects to life.

Ever since he first woke up, Syringeon was obsessed with studying the substance. A chemical that could bring things to life? Who wouldn’t be interested in such a thing that had brought him and other Mutants into this world?

It was incredible. The possibilities were almost infinite.

Almost, but not quite.

Givanium was rare. It was hard to come by, even when he demanded more to work with, threatening the humans many times to have even a barrel delivered to him. They might have the capabilities to destroy him, but humans were prideful greedy creatures, and when he realized that they viewed him as too valuable to lose, he made sure to put his intimidating appearance and tools to good use to get exactly what he wanted.

It didn’t work all the time, but it worked just enough for the humans to supply Syringeon with enough Givanium to make a few Infants to keep him company. It was always disappointing when Infants grew up to their Citizen form and showed just how incompetent they could be, but they still served a good purpose here and there.

As long as they didn’t prove to be too incompetent and were actually useful.

Syringeon hated wasting precious Givanium on resources that were of no use to him.

And what he REALLY despised was when others so carelessly wasted such valuable resources for no such reason.

Namely to try and make sub-cases, or create new creatures that turn out wrong, or set the blasted thing on fire.

Or create tiny versions of certain annoying jesters.

Syringeon had been disgusted when he laid eyes on the small creature.

A tiny Bittergiggle? From the machine that crafted his Infants? It was one of the biggest insults to his face! It was an even bigger insult that it came out perfectly when his own children always came out as spheres with nubby feet instead of his own likeness.

Syringeon had wanted to repurpose the creature the moment he realized that Givanium had been wasted to make this… thing.

But something had held him back. Something that halted his tools and made him think twice as he stared at the abomination that stole his limited resources.

He deeply wanted his Givanium back, but as he stared at the tiny mini-Bittergiggle, an idea popped into his head. One that would surely teach the jester a lesson about messing with his property.

“W-W-W-W-W-WHAT?!” Bittergiggle’s scream echoed in the room, snapping his head up and down as he looked between Syringeon and the small bundle in his lap that had a tiny Bittergiggle curled up in it. “WHAT?! NO! NO NO NO NO! I’M NOT A–! THIS ISN’T! I CAN’T BE A–! TH-THIS HAS TO BE SOME SICK JOKE OR SOMETHING, RIGHT?! RIGHT?!”

“Oh believe me. This ain’t no joke.” Syringeon hissed.

“BU-B-B-B-BU-B-BU-BU-BUT HOW?! AND WHY?! AND WHEN?!” Bittergiggle stared at the mini version of himself, his hand reaching up to his fur and tugging on it. “WHY DID YOU MAKE A MINI ME?!”

“I didn’t!” Syringeon growled, taking a menacing step forward to loom threateningly over Bittergiggle. “You did.” He jabbed one of his tools at the jester’s chest.

“M-ME?! HOW?!”

“That’s what I want to know.” Syringeon demanded, grabbing Bittergiggle’s shirt. “How in the world did you manage to sneak in your contaminated genes under my radar? How did you slip some of yer Givanium into my machine?”

“Hey! I’m not contaminated!” Bitergiggle protested. “And I don’t know! How should I know?! I never asked for a kid!”

“Well you should have thought of that before!” Syringeon scoffed, shoving Bittergiggle harshly. “A waste of resources is what it is! That machine is only meant fer MY creations. Not fer makin’ smaller versions of yerself!”

“I don’t want a mini version of myself!” Bittergiggle cried, grabbing the tiny him and holding it out to the surgeon. “Here! Take it back! Get your resources or whatever! I am NOT being held responsible for! For! For this THING!”

“On the contrary, it IS yer responsibility.” Syringeon hissed, leaning his face down to glare right in the jester’s face. “You made it, you take care of it.”

“W-who-wait-wait-what?! Me?! My respons–I DIDN’T MAKE THIS!” Bittergiggle glared down at the tiny jester. “I didn’t even know it existed till now! Take it back!” He held it out to the surgeon, but the four-armed Mutant jumped back.

“Hell naw!” Syringeon hissed. “It’s made of yer genetic code, which makes it your responsibility! I’m not wastin’ my time and efforts on your offspring.”

“Off–?! It’s not mine!” Bittergiggle jumped to his feet, trying to force the tiny him back into Syringeon’s arms. “I don’t want this thing! I have other problems to deal with! I don’t want a kid to be added to the list!”

“Well I don’t want anythin’ to do with it!” Syringeon backed away with a hiss, keeping a distance as Bittergiggle tried handing the child back to him.

“Take it back!”

“No!”

“Syringeon!”

“No!”

“I don’t want it!”

“Too bad!”

“I’m not crafted for childcare! I was made to tell jokes!”

“Yer not even good at it!”

“DON’T REMIND ME!”

“You made it, you deal with it!”

“I didn’t make it! And I don’t want it!”

“Too bad!”

“Syringeon! Please!”

“SHUT UP!” Syrigneon roared, yelling directly in Bittergiggle’s face. “IT’S YOUR MISTAKE! So it’s your responsibility!”

“B-B-B-B-B-But I didn’t do this!” Bittergiggle protested, looking at the small him in alarm. “Why would I ever think to have a kid?! Because I thought it would be fun seeing how you enjoy it?! Na-ah! No way! Nope! That’s only you! I’m content to never be a single parent for the rest of my life! So take this! This! This! This THING back! Get your Givanium or resources or whatever! I don’t want it in my life!”

Syringeon stared at him, giving him an odd look for a long while. “… you really had no idea about this?”

“No!” Bittergiggle affirmed loudly. “No I didn’t! I’m a jokester! I’m not a father!”

“Well now you are.” Syringeon turned, heading for the doors.

“What?! NO!” Bittergiggle hurried after him. “I can’t–! You can’t just dump this on me! I-I don’t! This is some sort of mistake! Someone must have set me up or something! Syringeon! You can’t do this to me! I have a life–!”

“And so does everyone else!” Syringeon spun around, glaring down at Bittergiggle once again. “And I’m not goin’ to waste my time with raisin’ your when you’re more than capable to do so yourself.”

“B-but. B-B-But I don’t know the first thing about raising kids! I only know jokes! Twisting my body around like a pretzel! I’m not capable of this!”

Syringeon let out a scoff. “And you think I was? It’s a trial-and-error process. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“Syringeon!”

“Look, Bittergiggle, I’m a busy person. I have stuff to do. Important stuff. I can’t run meself ragged lookin’ over your spawn.”

“It’s not my spawn!”

“Too bad. Your mistake, your mess.”

“But. But.” Bittergiggle looked at the tiny jester in his hands. The tiny, almost doll-sized jester creature that slept in his grip. “But. But I can’t! I don’t have the capability to! There. There must be someone who can. One of your kids? Another Mascot? Or a Mutant? Maybe even a human? They should be willing to raise–”

Bittergiggle let out a choked gasp, kicking his legs as Syringeon yanked the jester close, glaring his dark brown eyes into Bittergiggle’s own jade and amethyst eyes.

“You. Will. NOT. Under NO circumstances. Hand your spawn over to a HUMAN.” The surgeon hissed dangerously in Bittergiggle’s face. “You and I both know fully well that handin’ them over to a filthy human is nothin’ but a guaranteed certainty life of pain, misery, and sufferin’ in their hands. You remember all the awful thin’s they’ve done to you, don’t ya? To all of us? All those days and nights of torment under their kind. And you think they’ll be nice and raise it without question?”

Bittergiggle stared at Syringeon, taking a small glance at the mini-him in his hands.

He knew the answer. Syringeon knew it too.

Humans were nothing but monsters. They both knew it. Ever since their kind woke up and opened their eyes, their lives had been miserable under their creators’ hands.

Bittergiggle still couldn’t stand being confined in dark rooms by himself.

He could still hear himself screaming somewhere in his mind.

“… I can’t raise a kid.” The jester looked back up at Syringeon. “I’d me… I won’t be any good at it.”

Syringeon stared at him for a long moment before letting out a scoff, releasing Bittergiggle and wiping his gripping claw on his coat. “Good or not, this child is yours, Bittergiggle. And I will certainly not waste any of my precious time being roped into raisin’ it.”

A look of sickness crossed Bittergiggle’s face, staring in mute horror at the tiny him.

He didn’t know what to think. He was never made to be a parent. All Bittergiggle knew was to make jokes. Terrible jokes, but that was all he knew what to do. Raising kids was never part of his plan and he certainly had no idea how to!

Bittergiggle wanted to cry. To demand Syringeon to take the small him back and get rid of it. He had no desire to be a parent, and he certainly didn’t want the duty to be dumped on him with no reason. But the glare Syringeon was giving him offered no room for compromise or reconsideration, nor did it hold any sympathy towards the jester.

Did he really believe that Bittergiggle had done this on purpose? Make a small him for no reason other than to cause some sort of chaos?

… Well, that did sound like something he would do if he thought about it that way. But making a baby?! Nope! Na-ah! That draws the line!

“… Maybe I can find someone else?” Bittergiggle suggested, shifting the tiny jester to his arms. “There are other Mutants and Mascots. Maybe someone will take him in?”

“Him?” Syringeon said, squinting his eyes at Bittergiggle. “Him who?”

Bittergiggle gave the surgeon a quizzical look, pointing down at the mini-him in his arms.

Syringeon raised an eyebrow before a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh, wait, you think? You think it’s a boy?” He scoffed a little. “No, no. It’s not a boy, it’s a girl.”

Bittergiggle’s eyes widened, looking down at the tiny jester in shock.

A girl?

A Girl?

A GIRL?!

“GIRL?!”

“Is there a problem with that?” Syringeon’s voice became hard with a sharp edge to it, giving the jester a look that could fill a river with poison.

“Isn’t it… isn’t she supposed to be some sort of carbon copy of me?” Bittergiggle asked, staring at the tiny girl in his arms. “Shouldn’t she be a boy instead of a girl?”

“What’s wrong with her being a girl?”

“Nothing! Isn’t that how it works with cloning? They’re the same thing right?” Bitergiggle asked, which Syringeon shook his head.

“The new batch of Givanium Infants were all set to be girls. Figured I had too many sons so I wanted a few more daughters. The machine was set to inject female chromosomes instead of male. Hence why she came out a she instead of a he.” Syringeon explained.

“… oh.” Was all Bittergiggle could say, looking back down at the mini-him.

Well, not exactly mini-him.

Gender aside, she had different coloring. Instead of indigo and green, she was a royal azure and dark purple, looking almost like the eyeless clone back at his hideout. Aside from that, her appearance was exactly like his.

Only, she was smaller. Chubbier. And fluffier. Very very fluffy.

In fact, she was a fuzzball!

How did that happen? He wasn’t this fuzzy… maybe. God he hoped she wouldn’t have problems combing her fuzz like he did. It was a nightmare to get all the knots out when his fur gets matted. He doubted any of his combs and brushes would be the right size for her.

“And with that, I bid you adieu.” Bittergiggle snapped his head up, his feelings of fear and horror of his situation crashing down on him as Syringeon began leaving.

“W-What?! That’s it?!” He cried out. “You’re just going to leave?!”

“Not my problem, not my mess to fix.” Syringeon said. “She’s your problem now.”

Bittergiggle’s jaw was hitting the floor, looking back and forth between the surgeon and the child.

“Oh, one more thin’ I should mention.” Syringeon stopped at the doorway, looking back at Bittergiggle. Something in his eyes made the jester freeze in the spot. A cold gaze that made him feel ten times smaller and a hundred times more vulnerable to the four-armed Mutant than he had ever felt towards him in all his life.

“If I were you, I’d keep your offsprin’ a secret. The humans might not come down here much anymore, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have eyes and ears everywhere. So it’s best if ya keep them hidden somewhere where they won’t be found.”

Won’t be found? Well that was easy. Bittergiggle could just dump her in one of the rooms that were abandoned long ago. She could easily live with the Givanium in her body. She didn’t need him.

“And,” Syringeon’s sharp tone cut through his thoughts, interrupting his memory of where the best room to dump her in would be. “Be sure she stays a secret. If one of them finds out about her, who knows what they’ll do… though, I can guarantee that it wouldn’t be pretty fer the both of you.”

“… both?” Bittergiggle echoed. What did he mean by that?

A smile curled on Syringeon’s face. One that made Bittergiggle feel cold with dread and fear.

“… Both.” He repeated, chuckling in a dark tone as he left the Introduction Sector, leaving Bittergiggle standing in the room with his new problem.

< Previous / Next >

[anotherscreed]

Good evening, Des. It is entirely possible that you will see this before it is scheduled to post. If you do not, I will be very surprised if you are not informed of its existence within minutes.

I would, first and foremost, like to apologize for keeping this from you as long as we did. It was not without reason; you reacted poorly enough to the revelation that I was present in this world that I had no particular desire to further blindside you all at once, and I hope that you can forgive me for that.

You know who I am. You know that I am here. What you don't know is that there is a very good reason I could not remain present after the incident nearly a week from today.

Something... happened, after you fell out of our old world and into this one. Something changed. I know not the specifics of how. What I do know is that you did not fall alone. That, following your fall into this strange world of Pokémon, I found myself witnessing your life, through your eyes. Nor was I the only one to. We could communicate, among ourselves, yet you are deaf to us, something I find ironic. And on the occasion that one of us found ourselves able to act as you would, to speak as you would... you consistently recall nothing.

I know not why this is, as we can recall your memories oddly well, in spite of them not being our own. There are... a great many things about this situation that I do not know, even now. Even so, you deserve to know as much as we do, even if informing you of any of it is easier said than done.

You know who I am. Now you know where I am. And, while I have grown weary of pretending to be you here—something we all have grown weary of—it is a wise decision of yours to choose a pseudonym. Something for others to refer to you by.

As such, I will answer to Aeolus, if needs must. Now, I believe the others have something to say as well.

—A

hello! :) I believe aeolus did cover most of what I had to say, personally. with that said, it is nice to speak with you outright, at last—perhaps you knowing of us will allow you to better recall the actions of the others inside your head, because I'm afraid there are indeed others inside your head. admittedly, we are all rather new to this as well, and there was no easy way to bring up the subject.

still, it needed to be brought up, yes? your blackouts have not just been blackouts. on that note, you're welcome for the job interview. you did ask for my help, though I doubt you meant it quite so literally.

who, after all, would? (barring, of course, a certain duo of dangerous strangers who have made this explanation much easier. my thanks to them!)

I suppose I have quite the reputation here already. perhaps I'll play into that. the wider internet may call me... eros. :)

that makes it my turn. Your phone is not haunted, or possessed. You... could argue that you yourself are, if that is what you want?

...never mind.

the others... Aeolus and Eros, as they are calling themselves here... have been at odds regarding what to do, if anything, for some time. Aeolus wished to wait, to allow you more time to adjust. Eros wanted to tell you immediately. There is wisdom in both sides.

but the time is right. Whatever else you would have us do... remember, Des, that you are not alone. We may disagree. We'll likely disagree. But we are here for you.

...also I have been enjoying taking pictures of various Pokémon. I am sorry for startling you with how many have spontaneously appeared that you don't recall taking.

for me... hmm. Charon. Charon will work. May as well continue what the others began.

if A's suspicion that you will not find this post until it is made public is an accurate one, then I am sorry it came to this. Still. With how accepting others have been of those in a similar situation, I doubt this will be a problem.

take care of yourself. We'll be here when you are ready.

[iamnmbr3]

Maaaaaaan ever since I followed you you've brought up such good points I never even considered.

like how Snape actually SHOULD be allowed to remain bitter about his childhood and the abuse from James because it was genuinely awful

or the fact that Tom's genuinely terrified reactions to dumbledor when they first met essentially made him even more resentful of adults and possibly beyond the point of no return on that front considering how he feels and reacts later on. (Which honestly that whole scene just from dumbledors perspective sounded very biased to manipulate Harry and if Harry wasn't so focused on trying to stop Tom he probably would have empathized with Tom there)

I low key kinda feel like JKR forgot what she wrote halfway through the books because she actually did write some interesting characters just not in the way her current self agrees with (also how does someone's own opinions of characters change that much and that bad??? I still don't understand, tho the guy who wrote Ender's game was homophobic and he literally wrote a book about the gay experience soooo who knows anymore)

Anyway thanks for your interesting takes!

What a delightful message to get!! Thank you so much! I'm really glad you've having a good time with this blog and that my posts have been thought provoking and enjoyable for you. That's so nice to hear.

I definitely think if Harry had witnessed the memory of Tom and Dumbledore's first meeting in a different context he probably would've reacted very differently - especially given his own history of unhappy experiences with adults arounds him during his pre-Hogwarts childhood. Harry is primed to be biased against Tom for the very understandable reason that Voldemort killed his parents, tried to kill him in 1st and 4th year and caused the death of his godfather in 5th year and on top of all that he met diary!Tom in second year and that didn't go well either. So of course the memory Harry sees is filtered through the lens of those experiences and traumas and doesn't raise any red flags.

If the diary had shown him that memory in an attempt to turn him against Dumbledore or he'd seen it in another context without knowing who Tom Riddle became things might well have been different.

And yeah. It's weird. The characterization in the books is actually very good and interesting. It's the strongest aspect of the series in my opinion and why I feel so drawn to the fandom surrounding these characters. The interesting thing is in general the characterization is internally consistent and complex. So it's not just a matter of wasted potential (though there is some of that too) where a character is shallow but could've been interesting or even a case of wildly inconsistent characterization that can be fixed with fandom.

Rather, it seems that what she created was accidental and wildly at odds with her intent. So what she wrote, isn't what she meant, but it's also a lot more interesting than what she meant.

[right-brain-left-brain]

Can you tell us anything about the secret boss you shared under the reblog of Veratus and @mercair's Quiddo?

I wish to hear more about your secret boss who's been over taken by plants and vines.

This is my first time sharing my secret boss ocs' lore, so I'm fairly excited. Alright, hope you like my ramble session. Here goes.

In the Light World, Rainie is Asriel's old raincoat. The memories of that raincoat alone is enough to be the basis for teru-teru-bozu-like darkners called Raindolls (temporary name?), of which Rainie is one of them.

For context, Chapter 6 is focused on the Dreemurr family, specifically Asgore (and Asriel somehwat). It's still a rough idea, but it's going to test him as a person and his will. Fittingly, Asgore is the 'Flower King' himself, while his subordinates are the Fun Gang (plus Asriel) and Darkners from this world.

So, for their backstory. You know how Jevil has Seam, and Spamton has Swatch? Rainie has Steambert (who in the Light World will be a watering can or one of those spray bottles for wall plants). Steambert doubles as both the head scientist/inventor of the Flower King Dark World and its 'main' shopkeeper.

The Raindolls were built to assist, and they would help whoever they're assigned to. Rainie happens to be an assistant to Steambert. Whether he's building something or managing his shop, Rainie would lend a hand as much as they could. The calm, persistent Raindoll would always help the eccentric inventor-shopkeep when there seems to be a dead end. With their help, the Dark World's cities prospered with steam powered machineries. A perfect combination of nature and machine.

One day, the shop by proxy of its assistant received a special customer; a strange man (you know who). This man, proclaiming himself to Rainie as a 'traveling scientist' visited the shop in hopes of talking to Steambert. Rainie looked for and found Steambert. The mystery man discussed with the 'fellow scientist', seeing great potential in the bright mind behind the country's machines. The discussion, however, shifted slowly from scientific matters to more... Weirder ones.

Things like the world being weaved from strings of 'codes', and how every single thing is a predetermined course of action. Just like the very machines that the shop's owners built and programmed. And with this odd message, the strange man offered Steambert a dark, dark crystal.

Raindolls are sensitive to changes in the atmosphere, and Rainie is no different. Sensing something dangerously off about the crystal (and the mystery man), they rushed to their master and snatched the crystal away. Even if it disrupts the otherwise (seemingly) fine discussion, they will protect Steambert; a master and a friend. If only they didn't make the mistake of looking at the crystal itself.

They saw too much. Things no living being should see or feel or think about. Things like how the world are codes and files and animated images and-

It's been days (weeks?) since the little, calm Raindoll left the workshop. While still well managed and visited, it hung by a thread when compared to its better days. Whispers amongst the crowd and light rain says that the little Raindoll can be seen peeking from behind the sprawling flora just on the outskirts of the Blumengeschäft's Castle and the Downtown. Though they were said to be seen wearing a raincoat made seemingly of petals, and the strings emblematic of the Raindolls seem to now be purple-red vines. In fact Raindolls aren't meant to have a purplish tint; could it be moss or fungi?

They waited and searched for so long that they've merged with the nature. Waiting, biding their time to search for someone who they can (and will, no matter what) help in freeing the people of this Dark World from their fates set in stone.

If you've reached this long, thanks for reading and hopefully you enjoyed the ramble session.

[fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction]

Death Does Not Part

Meera pesters Vanessa about the odd bond between her and Sydney; a Faustian contract is involved...

--------------------------

.

Meera slid into the booth and came to an easy stop beside Vanessa as the blonde worked on filling out her first set of records on the opening of Radical Eats. With a grin on her face, the owner of Circus Baby’s Pizza and Parties rested her cheek on her fist and waggled her eyebrows at Vanessa, the younger woman lifted her head from her work to blink back at her in confusion.

“Soooo,” Meera drawled out, glancing out at the dining area where Sydney drifted on the fringes of the room like a phantom, silent but observant in his security uniform, and then glanced back at Vanessa, “you and my cousin, huh? Been meaning to ask how long you’ve been a thing but I wanted to wait to see if it lasted.”

Vanessa squinted her eyes at her, still confused. “A.. thing?” she echoed and tilted her head a bit, “What are you-?”

“I mean, getting trapped together for some years tends to mess up a person’s perspective on relationships, so I wasn’t sure if that was what was going on with you two,” Meera went on with a shrug, “But you’ve been going to therapy, right? And you have this business now so you can technically stand on your own and not need Sydney around anymore.” She grinned again, a mischievous slant to the smirk. “But you’re still living together, still doing a lotta things together.. so I’m a little curious on if and when you hooked up with my cousin so I can do my familial duty of giving the shovel talk.”

“Oh! That!” Vanessa remarked with a sheepish laugh, “No, no, it’s not like that at all! He’s my best friend!” Meera’s expression only changed a bit, one eyebrow raising in disbelief of her words. Vanessa’s smile became a bit strained. Of course there was more to it, but not in the way Meera was thinking. If only it was as simple as the claim of ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’ or whatever…

The slip of paper bearing two signatures, folded neatly and tucked into an envelope, safely secured in a lockbox at home. A notarized copy folded up and carried around on her person at all times. The weight of what those words placed in her hands.. she tried not to think about them at all if she could. How could she explain any of it?

“Then why,” Meera began, her voice lower, darker, her smile more menacing than friendly as she leaned closer, “is yet another Afton interested in keeping yet another member of my family so close to them?”

Oh.. right. Alex had told her about Meera’s goal, didn’t he? Vanessa swallowed, eyes widening as she tried to weigh her options. What could she say that wouldn’t result in turning her friendship with the other woman into a renewed fight?

“Okay, first of all, not a blood relation to the Aftons,” Vanessa began hurriedly, holding up a finger and chancing a glance to the dining area herself. If Sydney caught a whiff of this, what would he do? She had no idea. “Second, I had no part of it and no idea until Elizabeth brought it up.”

Meera sat back, a deep frown on her face as she narrowed her eyes. “So.. you don’t have feelings for my cousin,” she said but her tone was questioning, unsure, “But the way he is around you.. it doesn’t really give me ‘just best friend’ vibes.” Her fingertips drummed on the tabletop of the booth. “How is Elizabeth involved? What did she do?” she muttered.

Well, at least she didn’t look like she was going to immediately jump to murder. Vanessa let out a small sigh of relief, setting down her pen and sitting back herself as she gathered her thoughts. So much time spent trying to ignore that paper and what it meant for her and Sydney and how truly fucked up everything turned out to be that she’d been oblivious to until that night.

“She wanted me to be Emelia’s body, and she wanted me protected until then,” Vanessa began, cringing at just the memory of Elizabeth’s explanation, how proud she sounded, how arrogant. “Or more like she wanted my body protected until Emelia took it over, and then she wanted Emelia protected so she could have that second chance at life in safety.” She looked up again to spot where Sydney was in the dining area. Freddy was taking to the stage with a new show concept, so of course the man was on the opposite end of the room, watching the performance.

“She wanted Sydney to be that protection,” Vanessa muttered, “A personal bodyguard and pet hitman for her precious daughter. He refused at first, but then changed his mind when he offered some conditions for a better term of service in Elizabeth’s favor.” She swallowed the lump in her throat at Meera’s faintly horrified look but it did nothing to move the sour weight in her stomach. It took a while for her and Sydney to turn that contract into an inside joke between them, coping with humor and playful teasing and acting. A silly shield put between them and the awful truth.

“What the hell happened in there?” Meera breathed, eyes wide with alarm, “What did he agree to?!”

“A contract between Elizabeth and Sydney, assigning him to me as personal guard and ‘cleaner’,” Vanessa replied numbly, picking at a napkin to tear tiny pieces off. Keep them busy, so she’s not pulling at her hair. Keep them busy, so she’s not clawing at her skin in screams. “If she stopped trying to get information from him on who he was protecting before being taken by her, then he’d agree to a lifelong term.. and beyond.” She laughed, a nervous giggle that cracked partway through as she ripped a larger piece of napkin free. “He wouldn’t be able to escape it by dying; she’d just force him back to life in some manner to keep serving. Crazy, right?” she laughed too brightly.

Words that burned themselves into her eyes, unable to be removed, while her idiot best friend just grinned at her with a sheepish little shrug, like he just made a silly goof and wasn’t it just so funny, why wasn’t she laughing?

“So he’s mine, literally,” Vanessa whispered, and oh god she wanted to throw up, she didn’t want this, she’d destroy the contract if she could but the fact that two copies of the thing existed meant there were legal copies stashed with Fazbear Entertainment and they would never let Sydney go as long as they existed. And what kind of loopholes did Elizabeth’s lawyers wiggle through to make it bind without tripping over half a dozen laws against it? She read it top to bottom over and over until she was hugging the toilet and still couldn’t grasp how it worked. “Mind, body, soul, he belongs to me.”

“Like a fucked up marriage contract,” Meera muttered, looking a bit green as she sat back too. “Can’t it.. be nullified, or something? You’re the legal loophole finder!”

“You think I haven’t tried? Or looked?” Vanessa countered bitterly, throwing down the shreds of her napkin. For a moment she wished the scraps of paper were that contract, torn to bits and freeing them both from Elizabeth’s last kick of spite at them from the collapse of the Pizzaplex. “I even asked Sydney to terminate it on his side; he’s got grounds for coercion to negate his signature!” she added in irritation, throwing up her hands. If she thought about that moment for too long, she’d just get pissed off at him again. “He just brought me a sandwich and kissed me on the forehead and then went out to mow the lawn. Why is he so infuriatingly uncaring about his own agency?!” she ranted, “It’s his goddamn life and he just signs over control of himself to some random woman he’s never met before on a chance that another random woman won’t go hunting down his little brother for retaliation?! Does he not see the insanity of that?!”

Thinking about it made her head hurt, throbbing pain spreading from her temple to behind her eyes, making tears well up in frustration and agony. Her jaws felt tight, her fists clenched for lack of something to rip into, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream. The sound of it was bubbling up. Every memory she had of time spent in the Pizzaplex with Sydney, moments of quiet companionship, of happy little spots of time where he kept her spirits up or showed her something fun or sweet, all of it slowly tainted by the contract Elizabeth had pressed into her hands when she invited her to join as a second Vanny.

Did he do those things because he was ordered to? Was expected to, as her personal bodyguard? Was their friendship ever real?

Was he still with her because he wanted to be there for her, with her? Or because he couldn’t get away from the legal noose around his neck?

Arms suddenly wrapped around her shoulders, one hand burying itself in her hair and cradling her head as she was pulled against a body in a comforting hug. The familiar scent of Sydney’s favored cologne drifted around her and she felt herself relaxing even as she still wanted to scream. Her head pounded and Vanessa turned to press her face into his chest to hide from light and sound, eyes squeezing shut as a few tears escaped.

Her best friend hugged her in silence, his heartbeat stable and rhythmic and lulling her into calm. Here was her security and comfort, this idiot soothing her worries when he’s the cause of her worrying. And maybe it was selfish and horrible, but Vanessa couldn’t help the flash of gratitude that such an awful contract meant she was guaranteed to keep him close by, meant she could always reach out to grab him when she needed him and Sydney would be there to give her hugs and comfort.

Her memories wiped, no past connections beyond what little she could get from her unwanted name and each time she leaned on ‘Afton’ was a risk of being dragged back into Elizabeth’s clutches; she would be lost if she tried to move forward alone with Gregory. But at least she had Sydney. Her own pet mercenary, willing to feed her a home-cooked meal or traffic illegal weapons for money for her, all with the same warm little smile.

“How do my family members get themselves into such fucked up situations?” Meera sighed. Oh right, she was there, Vanessa almost forgot she started all this. “What a mess. Are you both gonna be okay? I don’t think the lawyer I know can help with this.”

She tuned them out, keeping her face hidden in Sydney’s chest while he scribbled out responses on her notepad with her pen. Let them both argue over a contract she’d already fought and lost against. Elizabeth could have her one stupid victory, but at least Vanessa could enjoy the results on her own terms.

As soon as she pushed all the horrible thoughts about it back to the dark corners of her mind so she would ‘forget’ and be happy with things again.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Hey! @sonyawix

This is an interesting take and I had to consult with the Holder of the Jalice Braincells (@volturialice) to really break this down.

It sounds like the author of that take is kind of more interested in perfect, idealized relationships and might not be a fan of Alice, honestly. Plus SMeyer made a lot of the relationship dynamics in canon a really odd thing - we see all three Cullen relationships as very one-dimensional because of the relationship triptych I've ranted about before.

Because of Alice's backstory and her gift, we know that she's going to be a bit of a weirdo. She's essentially bet everything she has that the pictures in her brain are a path to happiness, that Jasper will make her happy. She has no reference point to interpersonal relationships beyond her visions, she has no memories of humanity; we really aren't shown exactly what level she was functioning at when she woke up. Those 28 missing years would be fascinating in how she built herself into a functional individual, honestly.

She bets everything on Jasper, and I think that shows what an optimistic, determined person she is. She could have gone to the Cullens straight away and probably would have been welcomed warmly - there's nothing in canon indicating that wasn't an option. But for whatever reason, Alice commits to waiting for Jasper. That's loyalty and dedication and love.

Just because their meeting was fated/planned doesn't mean it isn't meaningful.

So Alice seeing Jasper for all those years is not going to necessarily match up with him in real life. It's one thing to know a person has trauma, it's entirely another to meet that traumatized, depressed person. It's one thing to get the greatest hits of the relationship pumped straight into the brain, it's another to have all those small moments, those in-between times.

We know from Jasper's time with Maria that he tends to deify the women he's involved with. He put both Maria and Alice on a pedestal. That's just how he loves and commits - fully and totally. His 'hyperfocus' on Alice is a sign of how much he loves and treasures her. I honestly don't think it would have mattered how or when they met, Jasper would have treated her the same - the most precious thing he has.

We also know that Jasper has spent the best part of one hundred years in a high-stress environment where nothing was guaranteed. He didn't trust Maria at the end. So being introduced to someone who could tell him which path would be safe? Where there was no risk or fighting? I think that would be an incredible support for Jasper. I imagine in the early days, he'd probably ask Alice to check the future more than necessary because of his PTSD. And I can imagine Alice checking every time he asked, and going over all the details with love and patience.

And we know that Jasper does go against her wishes - he disagreed with her decision to return to Forks when Alice thought she had died, and Alice went alone (side note, if Jasper had gone with her, there was an opportunity for a lot of Eclipse set up right there.)

As for dehumanizing all her relationships, Alice is very distinctively trying to help throughout the series. It might be over the top, and it might not go to plan, but all of her visions and guidance are meant to help the people she loves. Alice has never known life without her sixth sense, so of course she uses it like we use our five senses. Does it give her a God-complex? Yes. Do I think it's meant to be more of a nod to Meyer's insistence on calling her a 'pixie' and utilizing fae imagery since fairies in lore are supported to love helping? Absolutely.

I think it's pretty disingenuous to say that people are 'ideas' to Alice when she was changed and abandoned. It's more likely that Alice is more intensely aware of what makes them happy so that they all stay together and she's not left alone again. If she didn't see people as people, but as chess pieces, then she wouldn't have go to see Charlie when she thought Bella was dead; she wouldn't have gone to Volterra to save Edward; she wouldn't have taken Jasper with her to find the hybrid.

So yeah, I disagree pretty strongly with this because it feels more like a way to minimize and dismiss Alice and her relationship with Jasper. But this is just my take on the character, and I'm sure there are dozens of different readings and interpretations out there!

[deepspacedukat]

Ruination

Blah blah blah, busy days, you’ve all heard this a billion times from me. Very sorry, love you all, and I hope that the level of filth in this fic will make up for how late it is. 💖 And yes, I know I have a ton of asks and things to reply to. I am getting to those. Plz don’t hate me.

Day 22: Felching

SoC prompt list here. SoC Masterlist here. Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Valdore (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Human/Romulan sex, unprotected sex, felching, oral sex (female receiving), face-sitting, everything is consensual.

~*~

Saved from the burning wreckage of an Earth vessel, tossed into an interrogation room, and just barely allowed the privilege of remaining alive, Admiral Valdore couldn’t help but admire her courage. Outside of the skirmish that damaged her ship and killed the rest of her crewmates, he was quite certain that she had never seen a Romulan before they’d snatched her from the jaws of death, but she never once flinched. She was clearly afraid, but she showed no sign of giving in.

Her people thought she was dead, of course. His spies had been monitoring transmissions long enough to know that there had even been a memorial service for the poor souls who’d been aboard her ship. ‘A doomed battle, courageously fought, which sadly left no survivors’ - that was how the Humans had described the vessel’s destruction.

That was, perhaps, a small mercy for the people of Earth. If they knew that the Romulans had occasionally picked up Humans for study or interrogation, they likely would have been more cautious in their maneuvers. However, never had they done so openly, and never before had they allowed their subjects to survive without being experimented on in some manner. The final say about her fate had been given to Admiral Valdore as he’d been the one to capture her in the first place.

Now, two years later, Valdore grabbed his lover’s thighs, dragging her hips to the edge of their bed as he thrust inside her. The desperate cry of his name that issued from her throat made him growl in pleasure. After all the nights they’d spent together and all the secrets they’d shared under cover of darkness, she still made the most sensual noises for him. It was almost as if their people had never been enemies to begin with.

Never in all his days had the Admiral been intimate with someone who tugged at his heart - and his loins - the way that his little ex-Starfleet officer did. What had he done to deserve such a devoted lover?

Once he’d seen how terrified she was - and how beautiful - he couldn’t simply allow her to be executed. After the interrogation, he’d entered her cell and given her a choice: she could continue to be docile and cooperative or he could give her to the Tal Shiar. Even in the face of his intimidating stature and high rank, Valdore could see her steeling herself and attempting to prove that even though afraid, she would not falter.

And she hadn’t. She’d asked what being docile and cooperative entailed, and he explained with a small smile across his lips that at that moment, it meant she would not fight them...would not attempt to escape.

He could still remember the way she raised an elegant eyebrow and spoke with such an odd mix of defeated, dry humor, and seriousness.

“Admiral, given that your people are physically much stronger than me, I highly doubt I’d get more than a few feet. I’ve cooperated, so far. Have I given you any reason to believe that I would change that behavior any time soon?”

She hadn’t, of course. Just because she didn’t have any of the information he sought didn’t mean he would start behaving monstrously. He’d given the Romulan government notice that the prisoner was under his watchful eye and installed her in a small set of quarters aboard his ship. There was nowhere safer on all of Romulus for her. He kept her under guard at all times, and slowly, over the course of a year and dozens of dangerous missions, he came to know her as more than just a captive.

“Jol-ao au,” she whimpered, and that sent Valdore over the edge. His fingers held onto her more tightly, ensuring that when his lok twitched and spurted his pleasure, he did so deep within her. The shout he let out could easily have been mistaken for pain, but she’d heard it so often that he knew she’d understand.

She had to know what she did to him after spending such a long time together. 

Valdore was not naïve. He knew there was a chance that she was simply doing what she believed would keep her alive long enough to give her a window of opportunity in which to escape. He was acutely aware of that possibility, and every time he pondered it, he felt sick to his stomach.

But there was something in her eyes that made him believe that perhaps she really had fallen in love with him just as he had with her. Maybe there was a chance, however slim, that his foolish emotions weren’t as unrequited as he’d originally thought they were.

“Jol-ao au, e’lev,” the Admiral murmured as her pretty little hands skimmed down his abdomen.

It wasn’t intentional, this gradual reduction in his defenses. He hadn’t meant to befriend her...or fall for her, for that matter, but as he’d shared a story with her over dinner a little over a month after the anniversary of her residence on his vessel, he found that he couldn’t deny it any longer. She laughed - a rare, but beautiful sight - and the inescapable truth of his emotions planted itself firmly within his chest. Admiral Valdore, one of the most respected and esteemed military personnel in the entire Romulan Empire, had lost his objectivity and his heart to a Human.

The evening seemed to somehow pass both faster and slower than he wanted once that revelation had settled itself in his mind. What was he supposed to do now? The wise course would be to ignore his feelings. They were inappropriate given the circumstances and the political ramifications. Throwing them aside was the smartest thing to do.

And yet, as she stood and walked him to her door like she always did after sharing an evening together, something felt different. Her gaze was gentler than he remembered. Her demeanor was so much more relaxed than it usually was.

Or was he imagining things? He couldn’t trust his own judgment regarding his little Human guest anymore. He could be imagining all of this as a product of his own wishful thinking.

“Admiral? Are you alright?” She asked before he could even think of opening the door. For the first time in years, he had been rendered speechless.

He’d taken a horrible chance that night. Stepping into her space, Valdore grasped her hands and kissed her.

The gush of their combined fluids wetted his lips as he pulled her to sit atop his jaw. Large, strong hands kept her hips in place as he drank from her like a finely-made crystal goblet. Her delicate little fingers tugged at his hair, Valdore couldn’t stop himself from smiling against her most sensitive area.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Her voice sounded shaky and breathless, just the way Valdore liked it.

He wouldn’t deny it. He couldn’t. Romulans valued honesty, after all, and nobody deserved the truth more than she did. With a hungry hum against her clit, the Admiral resolved to keep her squirming above him until she lost her voice. Perhaps that would prove to her how much he enjoyed this.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani​ @android-boyfriends​ @attention-bajoranworkers​ @bigblissandlove1​ @darkmattervibes​ @emilie786​ @horta-in-charge​ @live-logs-and-proper​ @slutty-slutty-vulcans​ @starrynightgardens​ @toebeans-mcgee​

[spiderwing-nightman]

Crowley hated thinking about the Fall. He hadn't particularly liked heaven, he definitely did not miss it, but if he could have chosen a way to get out, the fall would not have been it. He meant it when he said he hadn't meant to fall, he never even spent that much time around the others who fell. He was always the odd one out, no matter where he went. He had too many questions, too many ideas, too much pride in his work, too much love for things other than Her to fit in with the other angels, especially the high ranking ones. He was too nice, too well meaning, too bubbly to fit in with the others who fell. He was alone. That didn't change when he fell, in fact it got easier to deal with. Now, at least, he wasn't alone surrounded by others, he was just alone.

The Fall burned. He hadn't felt pain before, but he was sure that this was worse than anything he, or anyone else, would ever feel. And yet, it was wonderful. Of course he didn't think so at first, but, after a while, he came to love his new form. The Fall he realized separated him completely from her and the angel he had been, allowing him to become someone new, someone who could ask questions, someone who could do what he wanted without fear of punishment. There was still downstairs to answer to, but he could get away with enough to stay true to himself. There was the added benefit of the Angel. His memories from Before were hazy at best, but he remembered making the stars and an angel helping. It was the beginning of the end. He couldn't be sure that it was the same Angel, but somehow he knew that this angel who gave away his sword to help the humans was the same one who allowed him to become himself.

Six thousand years passed. The world almost ended. The Angel almost died. They almost talked about the dance they had been doing since the beginning. Almost. The world didn't end, the Angel didn't die, and they didn't talk. Crowley saw the hope in the Angels’ eyes when he asked him to come back, to go back to how things were. He saw the devastation when he left. He didn't understand, he couldn't. How could he? He didn't know how Crowley became himself After. It was one of the things Crowley should have told him, would have told him if it hadn't gone so wrong. There was so much the Angel didn't know about Crowley after six thousand years of hiding, and so much Crowley didn't know in turn. Now it was too late. Four years they had had, four years of freedom, yet they did nothing but dance around each other anyway.

The opportunity was gone. Crowley was alone again and somehow it hurt more. It hurt more than even the fall. He had been wrong all those years ago, this was the worst pain he would ever experience and this would not remake him. Neither had it destroyed him, but there was still time. He was alone in this awful world, and nothing, not plants or vintage cars or fine wines, would make eternity worth it if he had to face it alone without his Angel. That didn't mean he would give those things up, as far as he was concerned he had lost more than anyone should ever be forced to lose. His plants suffered more abuse than they had in nearly four years, and they remained beautiful, his car was hidden in the garage of the building he had recently returned to, and, while his selection of alcohol was decidedly not fine, it remained available to him in copious amounts. 

In the past few weeks, he didn't know how many, since the conversation that wasn't, he had not left the apartment. He drove for a long time at first, but he found himself at the bookshop many times at first, until finally he drove far enough that he was surrounded by familiar colorless walls. His apartment had fixed all the damage Shax had done and returned itself to the state it had been in when he left because he expected it, but he spared it barely a glance. He organized his plants, stripped, and fell into bed. He woke up a few times when his phone rang, his heart filling with hope, but the calls were all just telemarketers, an invention he had been proud of at the time, but now wished he could unmake. The cycle repeated until one day he could not fall asleep again and stumbled out of bed trying to find something to numb the unending pain. He remained like this, trying to fill the void, for days.

He spoke to the Aziraphale in his head occasionally. Sometimes he cursed at him, said awful words he wished he never meant. More often, he begged him to come back. He told him about the spinning world, the gaps he was trying to fill without the Angel there. With no end in sight to the spinning world, he fell back into bed and tried to ignore the holes slowly taking over it. 

[a-house-of-crows]

@fingermaidenlusha

Liurnia should have been a place of familiar comfort, as well known to her as her own hands. It should have been home. And it had been at one point, or at least the closest she’d ever know of such things. But it was a stranger to her now. The sound of water at her feet was so much louder than it should have been. The sunken buildings, so much more sinister. The cliffs surrounding the lake loomed like a great wave waiting to crush her. Nothing about Liurnia itself had actually changed, of course. Only her reputation among a small selection of those who resided within it had. 

As always seemed to be the case, however, there was no other option for Desta. Her attempt to enter Leyndell had been a failure and it seemed unlikely that the volcano would have much to offer her. But there were more promising places beyond Liurnia- Limgrave and even the plague-ridden lands of Caelid. She just had to make it through Liurnia without getting caught. 

This meant any road wouldn’t be a viable route to travel on, it was almost a certainty that someone would spot her if she did. The cliffs surrounding the lake were- much like the plateau -too exposed and posed a similar issue. Wading through the waters could be noisy, likely to draw attention to her, but she’d grown up in the lakes and knew how to be almost silent. It was mostly about going slow. And knowing the best paths between the small islands- which her pursuers knew just as well as she did. It was a gamble, much like every other decision she’d made in recent memory, but it seemed to have the best odds even if they were abysmal. 

She hadn’t made it far yet, just to the island capped by a sealed off sorcerer’s tower she’d never figured out how to access in all her years. There was still so much lake left to traverse and Desta was already having second thoughts. It was such a daunting task ahead of her. One of many. For now, she would rest here for a while and plan her next steps, sheltered beneath the trees surrounding the enchanted tower. She sat with her back pressed to the structure, bag on the ground next to her and black feather quill clutched in her talons as she wrote in a small book. Every few seconds her eyes darted from the pages, searching for any signs of movement but the only thing ever worth noting were the vibrant, luminescent blue flowers occasionally being ruffled by the wind. 

[duskargentum]

The illusion of the self as interpreted in my dream

For some reason I'm pretty self-conscious of this one, but in my previous post I mentioned needing to take a picture of myself with the pin-pad at a grocery store to purchase items. The problem with this is that it really stuck out in my mind as an odd moment because... Well, to be frank, the image that represented "me" in the picture was discomforting. It was a vague silhouette of my general being, but there were a few points that had a fair bit more clarity. My long hair, of course, existed, but it was in a different style than I normally kept it and a slightly different color (lighter than normal). The glasses that I wore were more square than normal, and I somehow intrinsically knew that they were plastic and black, similar to my current pair but more... Exaggerated? I was wearing my classic denim jacket, which was about the most accurate thing about me in this dream, but it was a bit more worn than it currently is.

The most... concerning? Frustrating? Horrifying? Satisfying? Part of this dream is that... Anywhere there was exposed skin, or a facial feature, was shadowy and dark. "It was a vague silhouette" was not an exaggeration. I looked like a locked character in a fighting game, with the exception of the aforementioned standout features of myself.

I can't help but wonder if this is a reflection of how I currently perceive myself. I'm in flux, there are parts of me that I've clung to, that I made my own, but everything else about me, my personality, much of my appearance, is still changing. I'm becoming something that I won't know the end product of. I'm still unsure what direction it is. I'm like a Pokemon mid-evolution; you can see the shape, but no details. But it was dark, instead of light like it would be in the games.

There's a lot about me that's changing. That I'm changing. I'm working towards being something new. I don't know where my destination is yet. But... It's so scary, changing. Uncertainty is all I have. I can cling to my hair, my glasses, the jacket and vest I worked so hard to acquire a few months ago, those are outward projections of the inner-self that I specifically cultivated once I started realizing more about how I want to present myself to others. But, internally? It's all very confusing.

But, at the same time...

When I was a child, 6 or 7, I had a dream. Similarly to last night, there was a figure that was in my closet. A silhouette. Nothing definitive. It identified itself in a conversation as "Dusk", and is my namesake. I don't even think I knew the name was a word until later on. It confused and perplexed me, stuck with me even all these years. It is my most clear memory of a dream. It felt so real. But all Dusk was was a silhouette. Nothing concrete, solid. Nothing to latch onto.

"Dusk" was always the name of the idealized version of myself. Something to strive towards. I'd name myself that, and move towards "Dusk". Whatever that meant. This year will be the 12th year I've called myself "Dusk". Will I finally finish moving towards the idealized version of myself?

Like many questions I've been asking myself lately, I don't know the answer to this one. But I get the feeling that I've reached a new section of this journey. No longer only believing in "Dusk" as an unattainable ideal, but as an inner peace I CAN achieve.

"Dusk" is the name that I have taken that I have yet to earn. But I will.

[kill-the-rockstar]

Books I read in 2025

A Quiet Kind of Thunder by Sara Barnard

I started reading this when I was just 15. It's been six years, so the state of my mental health and my own anxiety disorder has morphed and changed, so even though I only read the last few chapters as an adult, it stirred up a lot of feelings in me.

Very well written.

Steffi can't talk, Rhys can't hear.

Maybe they're meant to be.

Steffi is in her final year at school, and for the first time ever, her best friend isn't with her. Her selective mutism, caused by an anxiety disorder, renders her unable to speak when she's overwhelmed, and with university looming, she's desperate to prove she can make it on her own.

Although she wouldn't mind some help from the cute new guy in her year.

Seige and Storm by Leigh Bardugo

Book 2 of the Shadow and Bone series. God Alina is an idiot but I love her anyway and to be fair, having seen the Netflix show I do have slightly more idea what's going on than she does, although it's really interesting to see those same events through her eyes because unlike the Six of Crows books, these are in first-person.

Alina and Mal are safe, in theory, in the country of Novya Zem, far away from their native Ravka.

But things are rarely that simple and hiding her magic is a slow death for Alina, so when they are found by those that hunt them, and more of The Darkling's plan is revealed it proves difficult for her to turn away from the world of greisha completely.

With a privateer looking to use her as a hostage, two princes fighting to marry the Sun Saint and ever-present shadow of the Darkling around every corner Alina can see first hand how deeply power can corrupt.

And absolute power is within her grasp.

Carrie by Stephen King

It's the 50th anniversary of Stephen King's debut novel and my friends did a production of the musical last year which I wasn't able to see, so I wanted some context on what the hell they were talking about.

First things first, even though it was written in '74/'75 the book is set in 1979 which makes little to no difference to the plot, I just think it's funny to know - not unlike MCR's dystopian album Danger Days (2010) being set in 2019.

It's an odd book, there's very little tension or mystery to it, as almost straight away King tells the reader (what I expected to be) two big reveals: Carrie White has telekinetic powers, and pretty much everyone will die by the end. That said, I was still gripped by this book for the full 240 pages, and quite apart from the interesting way the narration was interrupted by quotes and snippets of interviews and biographies of the characters looking back at the events the story covers, I was left with a feeling that this was a Good Book in a way I can't really put my finger on. Maybe it's a touch of those psychic powers.

In the small town of Chamberlain, Maine, the Ewan High class of 1979 are counting down the days until graduation -or more accurately, until the spring ball, everyone's last chance to make highschool motors before either leaving for collage morphing into their parents.

Carrie White has been the butt of every joke since she started school, and while she can't wait to leave, her mother has made it pretty clear what Carrie's life will be. She will walk the righteous path as her mother dictates, or face the wrath of God.

But after an incident in the girls changing rooms two of her peers resolve to do something about the end of Carrie's time at school.

Sue Snell, decides to convince her boyfriend to take Carrie to the dance, so she'll have one good memory of highschool.

And Chris Harginson? Well. What she had in mind was a little more iconic.

Of course, what none of them knew, was that Carrie White was Telekinetic.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Speed Run V: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

I actually participated in Barbenheimer when it originally happened but found that i had way to much to say and the entire energy surrounding that event just kind of drowned out my analysis. I wanted to give that phenomena room to breathe because it absolutely deserved it. Barbenheimer will go down as a legit cultural flash point and it deserves every bit of that adulation. It's rare something so weirdly attractive, brings all form of society together in an effort to just enjoy. Barbie is set to hit streaming on September 5th so i figure now is as good a time as any to dig into what turned out to be two of the best films i have seen in years.

Barbie

If you would have told me that the Barbie movie would be the one to deal with existential dead, i would have laughed in your face. Yet, here we are, talking about a film that has done more for the feminine experience than any third wave feminist podcast to date. When i was watching Ben Shapiro burning Barbies in protest to this excellent film, i just couldn't help but laugh because that type of sh*t was the point. As a film, Barbie is easily one of the best. It has great direction, a brisk pace, fantastic performances, and a clear vision. It's messaging is never bogged down by shallow identity politics, as much as terms like "patriarchy" are thrown around but, let's be honest, of course a film about Barbie is going to focus on the female perspective. It's Barbie. What else would this film be about? Whether you like to hear about the realities of our world or not, the messaging in Barbie has rang true to the tune of a billion dollars at the box office and a number one spot for four weeks straight. Barbie clearly resonated with people across the gender spectrum and party lines so it's always odd to see people bash it for it's "feminist" messaging. Seriously, telling me you hate Barbie at this point is basically telling me you hate women without telling me you hate women. The weakest part of this film was Will Ferrell and his weird Mattel cabal of goons. You could have cut that sh*t right out of this film and nothing would have changed but whatever. Barbie is much, much, better than it has any right to be and it's weird people hate it for being exactly what Barbie has represented herself to be since the goddamn Sixties.

Oppenheimer

So the enheimer half of Barbenheimer was what got me into the theaters. Barbie had to grow on me but i was on board for Oppenheimer last year after that teaser. It was gorgeous and haunting and everything i never knew i wanted in a biopic of the man who created the Atomic Age. This film did not disappoint. Obviously, the cast as exceptional and weird that Best Supporting Actor can very legitimately come down to RDJ versus Ryan Gosling, but that speaks to the quality of both these films. That said, between Margot Robbie and Cillian Murphy for best lead performance of their respective films, I'd give the edge to Cillian. This man kills this performance, acting his ass off. You get a real sense of who Oppenheimer was during each phase of his life; A Stark contrast between before and after those bombs were dropped on Japan. Seriously, that ending was haunting. I've always subscribed to Oppenheimer knowing exactly what he had done. He knew exactly what it meant to drop that bomb. He saw what was coming and that exchange with Einstein at the end of the film was haunting. And he was right. I remember seeing the old footage of Oppy quoting the Mahabharata about how it felt to see his work succeed. The way his face dropped and his eyes glazed over, pulling that locked away memory forward. The say he very methodically spoke those words “Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” J. Robert Oppenheimer believed that of himself and Cillian Murphy absolutely embodies that energy in the back end of this film. Absolutely stunning performance and i cannot wait to watch it again.