#but the memory ending is extremely interesting to me because it does it's job really well at communicating that you did something wrong

[internetskiff]

Ohh my god I just realized something The Signalis gameplay trailer is fucking genius. It basically encourages you to play in a way that lowers your chances of getting the "Promise" ending on the first playthrough. It doesn't encourage you to play like Elster - it encourages you to evaluate the situation like a Protektor would.

I mean, it's straight up styled as an in-universe emergency broadcast that Protektor Units would hear in the event of an enemy attack or emergency where a facility's integrity would be compromised.

This specific little tidbit basically encourages you to play in a way that ACTIVELY lowers your chances of getting the Promise ending, making it more likely you'll get Memory or Leave on your first run. Sure, you still need to weigh your chances in combat if you're aiming to fulfill your promise, but you need to put down as many corrupted Replikas as you can afford if you want to rack up the points necessary for that ending. The trailer encourages players to value self-preservation above all else. Which, y'know, that's how you usually aim to play games - you need to avoid getting hurt and you need to avoid dying, you seek the most efficient way to get to the end, but if you want the Promise ending you need to go out of your way to get hurt and die several times. You need to spend as much time as possible in the game. You need to be thorough. You need to leave nothing behind.

Point being, I think this is exactly why she doesn't remember her. The whole playthrough, you've basically been Elster in name alone. You haven't been acting like the Elster she knows. You've been dealing with the whole situation like any Replika Protektor unit would have. In her eyes, you may have been an LSTR - an extremely resourceful, versatile combat Replika, but you're not the Elster - the one who spent all those years rotting with Ariane on the Penrose, forever changed by what they shared on that one-way trip beyond the Oort cloud. Elster would raze S-23 Sierpinski just to get to her. She'd leave nothing behind. She'd die over and over if that's what it takes to finally put an end to this. What stands before her is just another stranger, another Replika, not the person she's spent all those years with. You have to show you're not just another stranger with Elster's memories. You need to prove you are her. You need to treat all of this like she would. You need to prove you remember your promise. You need to prove you value your promise. You need to prove you have become the person you need to be to end this. The loop won't end until it's molded you into the person you need to be. At least, that's how I see it.

[descendant-of-truth]

That said, I do think that Shadow Generations being such a more carefully cultivated exploration of Shadow's past compared to what the original Generations was for Sonic is... not doing Sonic himself any favors

General audiences are already kind of under the impression that Sonic as a character is fundamentally not that deep or interesting, and Generations was written during a time that really, really wanted to prove that notion right. Sonic "being deep" was what, seemingly, caused so much critical backlash, so to counteract that, they gave us the blandest cutscenes Sonic has ever had the displeasure of being in.

But that's not really what Sega is trying to push for, now. Frontiers wanted to be more serious, with a mature, down-to-earth Sonic. The movies gave him an origin story that inherently makes him a lot more complicated than usual. Prime put the focus on his emotions and gave him a character arc that lasted the whole show. The IDW comics can get extremely serious, and we're treated to Sonic's inner monologue as he wrestles with difficult choices. They clearly want Sonic as a character to be interesting to people, not just a vehicle for action and quips.

But putting the old Sonic Generations in the same package as the new Shadow Generations is inherently portraying them as equivalent experiences. When Sonic explores his past, it's no big deal - just another day on the hero job! Absolutely nothing worth exploring on his end when it comes to meeting his past self and revisiting his memories! Nope! No need to use time travel as a way to explore his core values as a person who prefers to live in the moment and not be bound by his past, no siree!

Oh, but Shadow? Now that's the actually interesting character! Revisiting Shadow's past is such an exciting event that it requires the whole year to hype up, and Sonic's just so boring in comparison, isn't he? Who really cares about Sonic beyond his surface-level characteristics anyway, right? The Sonic Generations remaster is more of an accessory to what's essentially Shadow the Hedgehog 2 at this point, and that bothers me.

Sure, Sonic doesn't have "a backstory" like Shadow does. But the past that we explore in Sonic Generations isn't his literal origins, but all the adventures we went on with him. Imagine how much depth you could wring out of him if you just took those events as being legitimate parts of his life that he has feelings on! Feelings we could explore!

But because it's a remaster instead of a full-blown remake, all of this effort they're putting into Shadow's campaign is nowhere to be seen in Sonic's. Can you imagine how good of a package deal this would be if Sonic's character was given this much care and respect, too? Like, we have two Sonics, but Shadow is getting more than double the favoritism.

And the fact that this is only going to continue to push the idea that Sonic is just. incapable of being interesting, or even really affected by what happens around him is really frustrating. We already have the movies and Prime drastically changing his demeanor and core traits for the sake of making him "able" to have character development, and as much as I love those versions as characters, it's really doing a disservice to who Sonic is supposed to be.

The last thing we need is for Generations to come out again and make the Sonic from the games seem like the least interesting version of him. Bringing Shadow up should not involve dragging Sonic down - they're supposed to be equals. But this game doesn't seem to be showcasing that very well, on account of essentially being two games written by different people haphazardly mashed together.

People being introduced to the series through this game are going to have such a skewed perception of what Sonic is like as a person, as well as what he's like compared to Shadow, and that just. makes me kinda upset not gonna lie

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ l went through like a fuck ton of shit [Broke up with my boyfriend of two years, entrance exam, and uh I lost some friends] and 2024’s barely started lol sorry for the late update, i am,,, extremely deep in hurting 👍

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu @callsignwidow

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Miles and Eddie make an exchange. A certain nightmare plagues his thoughts. Your insanity unfolds, and so does Miles’ suspicions.

[Warning: Blasphemy, mentioned of fucked up things and crimes, deranged thinking]

MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

“Miles, what would make you hate me?”

The memory was so long ago. Well, to be exact, perhaps it’s been a month or two since it happened. Miles could still so clearly remember the way you leaned your head against the damp wall, your eyes far off into the void of whatever haunted you. At that time, his feelings had been but a spark budding within his chest ever so delicately, a butterfly ripping out of its cocoon in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” Miles whispered into the air. “I don’t think it’s possible to truly hate a person when you know them personally.”

At that moment, you looked at him, with your head half-buried within your hood.

“Why’s that?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hoodie.

Miles took a moment to think about how to word his answer.

“When you recognize someone enough to know that they’re not evil people who’d do random shit for shits and giggles, you learn to realize that they’re not really a monster.. At least, not as much as they seem.” His lingering gaze travels towards the ample of your cheek. “I can’t hate you when I know you. You’ve got a name, and you’re somebody’s sister, daughter.. Well, you don’t have to be all that. You just need to be somebody, and you’re somebody to me, and that alone’s the reason why I can never hate you.”

“That’s.. Interesting.” You whispered. “So technically, you humanize your enemies.”

“That’s one weird way to put it, but yeah.”

“But what if it’s a façade?” The words rolled off your tongue seamlessly. “What if.. They’re not exactly the person you thought they were. What if they’ve done more harm than good?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s not my job to humanize people. People humanize themselves.” Miles answered. “If there’s truly nothing at all about this person that makes them human, or makes me feel like they still have a relatively active conscience inside of them.. I can’t.”

“So you’re saying thay if they’re not human, you’ll hate them?”

“No!” He rapidly shook his head.

“No, ‘cause Miles, I’ll be fair with you. Ion think there’s anything more monstrous than humanity. We are our own enemies. Nothing else causes more pain to a human other than its own body or its own kind, which is why hatred is such a natural thing.”

“Hatred is a natural thing for you, because you grew up only having to think about yourself.”

“Because if not me, then who would?” You spewed. You didn’t mean to sound overtly bitter, but you were. “Unlike you, Miles, my family ain’t the shit. It’s me against the world always— I-If, had I gotten a remote opportunity to care about anyone other than myself, maybe I wouldn’t be this hateful.”

“Well, you got a chance now.”

“How so?”

“You got me.”

You paused, wondering if you’ve heard correctly.

“… I’ve got you?”

Whatever did that statement mean? You’ve heard about a million pick-up lines, but what the hell was this?

“F’course you do. We’re friends.”

Friends.

“Friends?” Just friends?

Miles hums. “Buddies. Amigos.”

Ah, right, that’s how it always starts. Just friends.

Miles snuck his hand into one of his pockets, plucking out something round that you were too lost in your haze to even notice. He seems to fiddle with it for a moment, digging his fingers into its plush before nudging it towards you.

“You want some?”

You turned around and realized he’d peeled you an orange. “.. What.. These are so expensive these days. How’d you even get one?” Your hand reaches out for the fruit, examining its tiny size. You’d heard about the sudden inflation of prices, so fruits inevitably turned into a luxury for most. Miles parts the mandarin and places the larger half on top of your hand.

“.. I stole one from my neighbor’s garden. God did say generous people prosper, so I did him a favor.”

“I’m pretty sure there was a ‘thou shall not steal’ in one of the commandments, Miles.” You laughed, plopping a piece atop your tongue. The tangy, sweet, yet sour flavor bursts right in, making you grimace ever so lightly. “Oh, that’s sour.”

Miles took after you, similarly cringing. “Eugh.”

“It’s probably not all that ripe yet. It’s fine though,” You plopped another into your mouth. “I like oranges— sour things as a whole. They snap me back into life.”

“That sounds sad.” He mumbled, turning to look at you. “Kinda worrying, if you ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” You plucked out one of the seeds from your teeth.

“Right, ‘cause you never ask.” Miles took another bite. “You only answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “I like saying random shit to tick you off.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging your way up from the floor as you staggered from the cold. “Thanks for the orange, Miles.” Running a hand through your hair, you looked out and sighed. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the lack of your sass.

“You’re welcome, princesa.”

Your brow cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

His finger twitches. He watched as you froze for a moment, turning to look at him. With gentle steps, you approached and leaned down— tufts of your hair brushing against the temple of his forehead. At that moment, he swallows while taking in the scent of your perfume and its ridiculously sweet stench. How could everything about you be so sweet?

You plucked your pen out of his hands. “This is mine.” You reminded of him. Miles didn’t utter a single word til’ your eyes met. Even in the darkness, you saw, but you ignored— well, rather, you tried to ignore it, but it stung.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Miles turned his head, forcibly pushing down the butterflies fluttering like haywire in his stomach.

Hands clammy, heart haywire, eyes unable to meet yours.

“Sure, whatever.”

That day ended there, but Miles knew then. He knew.

Eddie Brock couldn't look past the television store, as his eyes were drawn completely to the news. Not that he couldn't afford a paper, or a gadget of his own— he was simply nervous, figdety, and this ominous pit that holed itself into his stomach unnerved him like a pig carved up for the butcher. He'd known of the news already, honestly, something along the lines of the daily murders and crimes that weren't all too unusual to be fair, and rather than the screen's bright technicolored themes, he was hyper focused entirely on one thing.

The face of Will Barlowe, the almighty senator. Eddie had long been staring at that man's creased, brown skin and slick, blonde hair that was fading into this falsified shade of platinum all because of his whitening strands.

Damn the rich, all of them.

Eddie was no one, like everyone else. A drop of water in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. He was one, like the rest, with the hard workers who carried the economy with their white, blue, pink-collared jobs. He thrived, initially, three years ago. He was an activist then— a journalist in a crisp collared shirt and black dress pants, warning the young about the dangers of climate change, and speaking outwardly in regard to politics.

Now, he was nothing more but a wrinkled jacket-wearing, eccentric and amusing conspiracy theorist scraping the tiniest bits of his dignity to post videos on Facebook or Youtube shorts about how fucked up and dystopian America's grown to become.

When the Prowler, the younger one, decidedly linked him a location allegedly shared by the elites, Eddie wanted to think of it as a chance to shine, to end everything once and for all, and to avenge Anna. For Anna, and for what could’ve been their happy, serene life. But when he arrived, painstakingly clad in plaid while forging the identity of a lost tourist, he was disappointed entirely to find out that the warehouse had been burnt down.

He could still recall the charcoaled crevices of what could’ve been his salvation— that masked boy, the Prowler, promised him salvation in a what-could’ve-been some rich guy’s attempt of a house barbecue.

“Did I make ya wait long?”

A voice reminiscent of a growl. That same shade of neon magenta lingered, popping like a change of color in the melancholy of great Harlem. Eddie tries not to look, but the presence of the boy simmered like fire even as he hung like a spider from the ceiling. He was always like that— the Prowler. The boy was a tall, lanky thing who walked and talked suave. Dominican, he initially assumed. Eddie figured this little vigilante was likely a high schooler with hopes consequently dimmed by the recession.

“Nope.” Eddie attempted to appeal cooly, instead, he only crumbled more. “I’d been watching the news this whole time, tryna check if there was anything about the fire.”

He hears a metal click. “They prolly wouldn’t say nothin’. See, if they didn’t wanna hide it, it’d be all over the television. But it ain’t there, so that means the Chávez’s are hiding the fire from the other families. They prolly paid the witnesses to keep their mouths shut or bribed all the television networks to say it’s some barbecue party gone bad.”

A few passersby couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the infamous vigilante hanging from a store sign, but they all seemed to know better than approaching him. Trouble was wherever he was, after all, or something the daily bugle said along those lines. They shared glances, sure. Curious, amused glances like how people would marvel at a lion in a zoo.

“It’s,” Eddie finally looked at him. “it’s something ‘bout the Chávez’s?”

With a momentary pause, the Prowler released his grip from the metal poles and dangled down for a second before decidedly letting his feet hit the ground. He was tall— truly, around an inch or two taller than grouchy Eddie. His braids seemed much longer than he’d last seen them. Did he recently get them redone?

“.. That’s right.” Prowler hummed. “.. But we might wanna move some place else to have this conversation, Mr. Brock.”

And where the cat went, curiosity followed down as it made its way to the dark alleyways.

Eddie had a million questions, like any other normal being. The Chávez’s, the Primos, the Barlowes, the Fisks, the Osborns, and all of the other wealthy families connected to one another were all listed down on his kill bill naturally, and he’d been dreaming about the day of crossing out their names with ink made from their blood. Cliché, but a threat either way. Eddie wasn’t a writer, but a journalist anyways. Creativity in terms of wording his hatred was limited and it wasn’t his forte.

“In your past facebook post, you mentioned the Chávez’s briefly,” The boy began, halting by the corner dampened by rain. “I need information about the whole family.”

“… Aren’t you supposed to know the basic information about your enemies?”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be needing your help.” The two white shapes that proxied as his eyes narrowed, grimacing ever so lightly. “There’s little information about them in the black market, and within the scarcity, most of them aren’t factual.”

“They’re rich enough to be able to squander their wealth on silencing people,” Eddie kicked at a can. “Of course no one knows, but I do.”

“How so?”

Picking at something in between his cheek, Eddie sighed a long sigh.

“… My wife worked as their private attorney.”

He watched the boy take a step back. “.. Your wife?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My wife, Anna. She was taught to keep silent about their crimes, and to find a loophole in every case.” A lump formed in his throat.

The Prowler stared. He couldn’t make out whether it was an empathetic or judgmental one. “.. So your wife covered up the Chávez’s crimes?”

“A part of it.” Eddie mumbled. “There’s more to the elite than we know, Anna had to burn her files after every case, so she couldn’t snitch or post them after she quits.”

His head turns. “… I see.”

He sees the boy shift, weirdly, fidgety. He couldn’t particularly describe the unease this young vigilante conveyed. It was almost like he was on the verge of asking something, but his mask made it harder to read what he was desperate to know about.

“.. So can you tell me?”

A simmering silence sunk into the gaps of their conversation.

“What’s in it for me?” Eddie asked, knowing he shouldn’t have, as it was obvious and painstakingly accusatory.

“Why do we have to have transactions when it comes to justice?”

Eddie paced. “Capitalism.”

“Fair point.” The Prowler sighed, rocking on the ends of his neon shoes. “Well, what d’ya want?”

Eddie thinks, and thinks. What could a conspiracy theorist— no, a journalist want? Could he ask for a man’s death? The head of Barlowe? The head of Chávez? Or could that only be achieved after this gamble? He looked at this boy, and Eddie pictured this teenager basking his hands in blood.

What would make him any different from the elites?

“… When you went to the warehouse, you guys.. Took evidence? Even a USB, right?”

He stared. “Yeah, we dug it up and we tried sending it to every news outlet we could find.. All of them rejected the information.”

“Why?” Eddie furrowed his brow. “Was the information incomplete? Did you send the evidence beneath a credible name as a source?”

“Credible name?”

“Yeah, if the information comes from a credible source, they might do something about it. Likewise, if the information is complete, they might take the risk, after all, the Chávez’s are old money, and they have a lot of influence in regard to politics. If they publish anything against them, without complete information, or if you’re just a bunch of trespassers regarded as criminals by the media,” Eddie held out a finger. “Someone will get shot.”

The boy swallowed.

“If not you, if not your partner, it’s the journalist. Always the journalist.”

And Eddie’s seen too much of his co-workers wound up as mere victims in a headline. ‘Journalist shot dead.’

And he didn’t want his name to be reduced to a John Doe in one of the many causes people are too afraid to fight for.

“… I’ll tell you all about the Chávez’s, if you give me the records you stole from the warehouse.”

The Prowler stood, seemingly caught up in his thoughts for a moment. “.. Okay, but I’m telling you, don’t make a large move without consulting me first.”

“I still want my head attached to my head, of course I’ll consult y’all first.” Eddie chuckled, his fingers pouring into his pockets. “Then, what do you want to know about the Chávez’s?”

Without missing a beat, he answered.

“You can give me all you got. Recent scandals, fuck ups.. Perhaps, you got anything from the collapse of the Aureum building three years ago?”

“The Aureum building,” Eddie echoed, reminiscing like a veteran released from war. “That was the messiest thing I’ve ever witnessed in the last ten years. The lawsuits, the bribes, and the social media mayhem—“

“The deaths.” Miles cringed, remembering his father. “Surely, that was the most fucked up thing.”

“Aside from the architecture? Sure.” Eddie pulled out a box of cigars from his pocket, wringing out a single stick. “Weak scaffolding, quick-dry cement.. Put two and two together, and everything collapsed as soon as the opening began.”

Miles wallowed, grimacing at the sight of the habit. “Could it have been planned?”

With a flick of his lighter, Eddie took one breath in and sighed. “Could? There’s no ‘could’, boy, it was planned.”

Planned? Planned by who?

Were the Chávez’s really masters at self-sabotage? Or were their enemies really just each other?

“You see, the Chávez’s specialize in human trafficking, slave trade, and child labor. The people they ship work tirelessly for other businesses without a fee— because we, you and I and the rest of us who had the freedom to earn education, refused to work under hellish circumstances and poor environments. Without us, precisely, without the poor, the rich are nothing.”

“Then the Aureum building?”

“The Aureum building was a cover-up for a bigger scandal.” Eddie tilted his head. “The people inside were likely witnesses, or people who knew about the human trafficking.. And when the building collapsed, they sued the construction companies involved, got the money, but damaged their reputation.. And I don’t see why they’d do all of that just to damage their reputation.”

Miles pondered and pondered.

“.. It was probably someone from inside the family who planned everything.”

“That’s what I think so too.” Eddie added, blowing off another puff of intoxicating smoke. “Someone who won’t suffer from the damaged reputation.. Yet someone who still manages to benefit from it all financially.”

“… Could it be.. Any one of the siblings?”

Eddie takes a step back, likely thinking about it. “.. Well, the other one’s in London, the other one’s too stupid, and the last’s a minor.”

“Minor?” Miles repeated. “How young are we talking?”

“.. Well, the last time I heard about the girl.. She was thirteen, and it’s been three years since then, so she’s probably fifteen to sixteen.”

It’s not as though a thirteen year old could possibly plan out such a meticulous plan… Well maybe, or maybe not, it’s not as though Miles was the only genius capable of great things.

“You know any of their names?”

“Names.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “The last girl’s protected by the law, since it’s illegal to paparazzi minors.. But the first two are Montrell and Anthony.”

Montrell. Mon. Three children. Two older brothers. One girl. Sixteen, sixteen years old just like you.

Miles swallowed.

It’s as though he could feel your hands blocking your vision, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He falters, alerting Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“.. My head just hurts.” He mumbled, turning his head. “I think I kinda overworked myself. I still got a date.. Need to.. Rest.”

“Date?” Eddie blew. “That’s right. You’re quite famous, ain’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes, able to freely express his distaste for the supposed compliment behind his mask. “I try not to be, don’t wanna make her think about it too much. The broad shoulders don’t help as much, though.”

“She know all ‘bout your..” With his cigarette squeezed between his ring, Eddie gestured at him. “Your little vigilante thing?”

Leaning his head against the brick wall, Miles crossed his arms and shrugged. “She better not. Don’t wanna make her daddy even madder.” He lowers his gaze a bit, his mask naturally zooming into the title of Eddie’s cigarette box. It was the same brand as your brother’s, likely a different flavor. Mint or something. Everyone around him smoked too much.

“She from the finer part of York or what?”

“The finest.” He recalls your brother’s luxury car. “.. But I think she’s tryna hide it.”

Eddie plucks the cigar out his teeth, a sort of accusatory yet mundane expression scribbled all over his scruffy face. Eventually, he laughs it off. “That’s all of what’s wrong with our society. The poor pretend to be rich and the rich pretend to be poor. They like romanticizing poverty but likely won’t be able to find comfort if they walked in our shoes for ‘bout a damn mile.”

“She ain’t nun like that.” Miles butted in. “She’s sweet, my girl. Cruel, sometimes, but that’s how ladies gotta be from time to time— seeing as how the world fucks them up every now and then.”

“.. That your first date?” Eddie asked.

“I guess. We’re kissing, but we got no label.”

Eddie scoffed an old man’s scoff. “Your generation’s got me fucked up. Y’all and your situationship bullshittery.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“It’s always like that.” Eddie narrowed his eyes. Miles similarly cringed, wondering how Eddie could be so bitter— having to remind himself seconds later that the man’s poor wife was dead. Dead as hell. As dead as his father. “If she can’t even be upfront about her wealth, she’s likely hiding something from you.”

“My man, I’m lucky she even looked my way. You know nun ‘bout her, don’t be like that.”

“And what if she’s from the oligarchy, huh?” Eddie exaggerated. “What if she’s a Fisk? A Barlowe? Hell, even worse, what if she’s a Chávez?”

Miles didn’t reply.

As the puff of smoke emanated through the damp air, suddenly, Miles pictured you holding a cigarette while grinning at him wickedly— and somehow, that tantalizing air.. Suited you like the slip of a glove.

“I’m just kidding w’ya, man.” Eddie laughed, flicking the cigarette away, crushing it with the sole of his wrinkled boot.

“Ain’t funny, Ed.” Miles grumbled. “People I loved died in Aureum.”

“But she’s still rich, though. You can never be too sure ‘bout the kind of secrets her family’s keeping. If push comes to shove, will you still be able to love her if you do find out that her family’s fucked up?”

“Stop it.” He angrily seethed. “Stop.”

Eddie watched with a certain stank in his eye.

“… Y’know, there’s a rumor that one of the Chávez kids are illegitimate.”

.. Miles left seconds after.

It’d not been his greatest day, and earnestly speaking, his gut’s been clamoring at him to listen, only for him to reject its pleas. He’d thought about listening— to whatever higher being was calling upon him to stray away from you.

His Mama told him to pray throughout his struggles. She’d not been a zealot, his mother. But she was no stranger to the novena, to pray and to call for help in such long days. He’d been subjected to it early on: the novenas, the masses, the lingering of frankincense in the air. Though she never truly coerced him to participate in the church, Miles simply titter-tottered throughout those dull Sunday evenings.

He didn’t want some higher being to stop him from becoming a horrible person; Miles wanted to be good on his own accord.

But you.. You made him question. Not you, but himself.

Though his dad always told him to question everything while he’s young, Miles couldn’t question you. How could ever question you?

An illegitimate child. Which one was it?

Your brothers, who had everything?

Or you, who had nothing?

And although Eddie left the alleyway unscathed, Miles felt that blood had stained his hands.

And you could still taste blood in your mouth.

You could still hear the crunch of that man’s neck echoing in your ears, his tiny pleads of self-preservation before the snap to his death. It rang and rang behind your eyes, between your ears, like a haunting melody you couldn’t help but repeat.

The memory of his fear merely energized your veins, but left you gawking in dauntness even as you worked your way through the hotel— showing Montrell the ropes and tending to the preparations for the upcoming charity event. The snap, the way it snapped— the way his neck snapped was a musical lyric that pulsed and pulsed in your mind.

Snap.

Snap.

ＳＮＡＰ.

The idea of fear intrigued you, cannibalism, however, not so much. The symbiote immensely argued with you, that it wasn’t your body in particular feasting on human flesh, but the symbiote itself. It needed to be fed, and it needed sustenance— but you didn’t know where else to find that sustenance.

“Miss?” Charlotte, the head housekeeper called out to you, snapping you back from the profanities of your mind.

Suddenly, you’re back staring at the new, tall, stained-glass windows— basking you in the glory of pale lights in shades of ethereal yellow and blue. It’s been under construction for quite a while now, but after your father had approved of the idea, you were willing to wait long enough to see its outcome. You’d only gotten the news just a few hours ago in regard to its completion, and now you’ve been staring at it for a while now.

“Yes?” You stifled airily, wallowing in a hundred emotions.

Charlotte bows her head for a moment, unveiling an approaching guest.

Before you could even process to question who it was, Montrell and his gentle eyes appeared before you. He seems to marvel at the windows before you as he takes another step up the stairs.

“Wow,” He huffed. “Is this.. Your design?”

You simply looked at the window with crossed arms and a smile. “I couldn’t forget about the windows when we went to Veronica’s wedding. I liked.. The colors and the drama it endowed.” You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “.. This was my final project in the hotel.. I’ve done so much to rebrand everything, but we still can’t do much ‘bout what happened in the past.”

The lights dawned upon the both of you.

“Does it hold any special meaning?” He asks.

You shrugged. “It varies on the person, I guess. I think, those who don’t really know me will try to put meaning into all that I do, but those who really know me know that my art is plainly.. Meant for aesthetic.”

Montrell frowned. “How can you make art without passion?”

“.. You pick up a pen.” You carved a smile. “And you just draw.”

You draw, and you draw. Carved it in, like how a knife would pierce a sack of flesh. Murder the canvas with each stroke, and if they ask you ‘why?’, answer with ‘why not?’.

“I think.. Only Miles can place meaning in my art. After all, my passion resides in him.”

“Like a proxy.” Montrell darkly laughed, shaking his head. “.. I wonder how hard you’d break once you lose him.”

You turned your head to look at your brother’s charming face.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning,” He remarked. “After all, how could he ever love you once he realizes that our family’s responsible for his father’s death?”

You turned your head back to the windows. “… I feel guilty, actually. I don’t really know how to approach Miles if he ever comes to realize my identity.”

“.. Don’t you feel lonely having to constantly push away the people you love?”

You shrugged. “I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are never lonely.”

“Sure.”

Montrell looked at you. To be precise, he eyed you, and he looked at the way you casted your eyes downward. From a mile away, one would believe you fostered insecurity and shame in the way you’d stare, but knowing you and the way you were, that downcast gaze of yours imbued disinterest and a heightened sense of.. Superiority.

No matter how hard you try to appear empathetic, you were always and inevitably still a Chávez. Even in the way you pursed your rouged lips, or spoke with eloquence, or held your head high.. You and your siblings, who were forged to become heartless from the beginning, were never bound to be kind.. Or good.

But could Miles do it?

Could he actually change you? Humanize you?

Make you kind and loving, and normal?

You tightened your grip over your arm. “I.. Was going to escape tonight, originally.. For our date. He wanted us to have a halloween date. It’s so dorky. He’s so dorky.” The way you fawned was genuine, though. He could see it so clearly. “But after daddy mentioned the USB, I didn’t know how to face him without feeling guilty.. I came to meet Miles with the intention of using him to get his dead dad’s stuff but I ended up.. Falling for him. I never knew I was capable of feeling like this.”

“.. When we’re too busy to survive, it feels frustrating to have to care for someone else. That’s why our family doesn’t feel like one.” Montrell whispered.

“We’re not a Greek tragedy.”

“Exactly, which would mean,” He turns to you. “You’re likely still savable, [N/n].”

You lightly winced. “.. I haven’t heard that nickname since I was twelve.”

Your brother chuckles at the reminder. “.. We called you that since you couldn’t pronounce your name when you were three.” Montrell heaved a long breath, as though he were a dreamer reminiscing the times. Ah, he truly is a sucker for what’s long gone, huh? “Antonne and I were so excited to have you. Your first word was my name, actually, Mon. I had to sneak up into your cradle every night just to make you practice say my name. Mama used to hold you in her arms whenever I got home from school, and she used to read out my cards with you in her other hands ‘cause you were one energetic kid.”

Oh, so like a normal family?

We were capable of having that this whole time?

…

“[Y/n]?”

You snapped yourself back to reality, Montrell’s voice leading you out of your internal monologue. “Did you hear my question?” He queried. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry, I was thinking ‘bout something. You were saying?”

“Once you get the USB.. Are you going to leave him?”

The question seemed far fetched from the previous topic, which caught you off-guard. You turn your head. “.. I don’t know. I’d rather make him hate me, and have him leave me first, because I don’t think I can ever bring it upon myself to leave him.”

Such a romantic.

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“.. It’s not a question of whether I can handle it, it’s a question of whether Miles can handle it.”

Montrell murmured. “.. What if he gets revenge?”

“Revenge?” You repeated, the idea sounding funnily dramatic. “Revenge on me? I didn’t throw that building over his father’s head.”

“Ah, yes, but there’s a thing called karma.” Montrell spoke as thought to remind you. “It’ll be out there to get you, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but aimlessly ponder. “… Why do poor people believe in futile things such as karma?”

The way you worded it, and the way it exited your tongue seemed unusually natural. Montrell, who’s been too used to such words, only shrugged. “Cause there’s nothing else to save them. That’s why they have a god, [Y/n]. They can’t save themselves, and so that’s why they believe something otherworldly will.”

Before you could speak, Montrell looked out into the glass windows before turning to you.

“Speaking of which, I think you should use daffodils for the upcoming party.”

“.. Daffodils?” You repeated.

Your brother nods. “Yes. I find them to be quite lovely.”

Since when did he have an interest in flowers? You internally squirmed. “Where the hell am I going to get daffodils in autumn?” You groaned. “We can use other yellow flowers for the golden theme.”

“Well, you’re not in charge anymore.” Was his attempt of a tease. “Surely there are still daffodils here in this season. We’ll have to find the best greenhouse in town.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sweetly casted a glance at him, smiling as a thought crowed at you.

A sharp pain shoots through Miles’ head. A pulsing, familiar pain— resembling a bullet, dove straight into his subconscious.

He stumbles back as darkness clouds his vision, a sort of slithering and slimy feeling coursing through his system like a snake seething beneath his skin. His heart was hammering against his chest. It was like that time during the warehouse, where he felt genuinely uneasy and unsettled. The eyes of that figure behind the window, watching him tremulously stare back.

In the cage of his mind, Miles finds himself inside a dark void— where the silence was loud enough to hear the sound of a pin drop.

Then there was this drumming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The melody was unfamiliar, but the voice nostalgic. Miles crawled amidst the darkness, searching for the voice, only to look up and catch the sight of a pristine, delicately made shoe. It kicked against the front of a desk, making a rhythmic pattern. Thump. Thump. Thump. With each passing moment, his eyes continued to linger upward, from the shoe, to a leg, to a waist, to your pretty face.

You sat there, above the desk, with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes, puckering up your pretty lips along with the song. You were so idly calm, so leisure while singing so softly, he could hardly make out the words exiting your mouth. A dim, green light cascaded against the silhouette of your figure, further accentuating the pink of your lips and the darkening of your gaze.

You smiled, but your eyes held nothing. Like you never knew what kindness was, even in his presence. You never looked at him like that before— like you hated him enough that you wanted him to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping was growing faster and faster with each second. Upon seeing his struggle, a stifled laugh laces the lyrics.

Miles tried to move, but his whole body writhed in pain— like he was beaten, defeated. His arms itched in burns and scars. With the sound of your hum, Miles looks up, only to see you cross your arms before your chest, the tip of your shoe gently grazing against the skin of his temple. He feels as though he was being watched, idly, by an audience that had no interest at all in intervening. Like everyone was amused to see him.. Kneeling before you.

Click. Click. Click. The cutter clicked in your palm as the blade rose higher.

It’s like your presence alone was enough to blind him, and his conscience kept crawling back to you no matter how hard it tries to stray.

Really, who are you, [Y/n]?

Why was it whenever you lingered in his dreams, you were the cruelest person to exist?

And why was it that Miles knew that he’d probably still adore you with your hands around his neck?

“.. Miles?”

From a gentle shuffle, Miles awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice.

Miles jolted up, his skin half drenched with cold sweat. Unfortunately enough, his awakening was nothing avian. On the contrary, his awakening felt like a somber chore. The material clung onto him like glue, making him utter a groan. For a while, he helplessly looked around like a child lost between rows of linoleum aisles, his mind hopping from question to question. 'What just happened? What was I dreaming of?'

Like some hungover drunkard, he gently peeled himself away from the sweat-stained sheets and begrudgingly sat upright. Rio’s gentle hand cradled his aching head.

“Rest, mijo, you’re exhausted.”

“Mama, I—“ He broke, running a damp hand over his head. For a moment, he flinches, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood. “What happened?”

His mother’s dark curls lightly brushed against his temple. Her eyes were just as exhausted as he was, with dark circles rimming the doeness of her gaze. “I got home to you taking a nap but you kept squirming. I was so worried. Que paso?”

He looked around, realizing he’d dropped himself unconscious atop the sofa.

“.. Nightmare.”

Night terrors, to put it precisely. It’s been haunting him since the death of his father three years ago. He thought they’d long vanished after meeting you, but after his suspicions arose, his anxiety came crawling back like a dreadful stench.

Rio handed him a glass of water, to which he gulped down to its very last drop— like he’s been thirsting for all his life.

“Mama,” He called out. “… What do I do?”

His loving mother creased her brow, shaking her head. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face, wondering how to begin. At that moment, Miles recalls your sweetest smiles, your loudest laughs, and your warmest hugs.

You held his hand, dragged him out of that maze, and you vandalized the hotel together. You tore yourself away from the expectations of your family, and went to him.

You chose him.

But could he go so far to assume that you loved him?

Rio shifted comfortably, trying to appear more welcoming to whatever catastrophe Miles was about to unleash. “What’s wrong, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t even admit it to himself, though he’d long noticed, he preferred to remain ignorant ‘til the truth was spilled from your own lips.. But he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Blood runs thicker than water, but both feel the same when your eyes are closed— and that could mean many things.

“A lot, ma.” He buried his head into his hands. “And Ionno if I could deal with it all.”

“You don’t have to deal with everything, Miles.” Rio frowned. “You’re only fifteen. Eres demasiado joven. Con el tiempo todo se arregla.”

“Me duele la cabeza.”

“Ponte vaporub.” Rio stood to grab the small, blue ointment. As she unscrews its green cap, Miles was immediately hit with its loud, minty scent. Digging her fingers into the substance, Rio smears the vaporub all over Miles’ forehead. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

He lightly moved away with a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma.”

“I’m your mother, you’ll always be my kid.” As the cooling sensation sunk into his skin, he felt his mother’s palm cup his cheek. “And since you’re my kid, I always get worried about you. I know we ain’t got nothing much, but we got each other, Miles. You’re a great kid bound to achieve great things.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. That whole great kid thing. You had your fingers entangled all over his puppet strings, and it made him hesitate.

But what if that was exactly your plan? To ruin him entirely for your benefit?

“.. Ma, what would you do if the person you liked lied to you about their identity?”

Rio sat in silence.

“.. Que?”

Ah, fuck. That’s a stupid question.

“Nothing.” Miles turned his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question—“

“No, Miles. I didn’t mean to— I just, you like someone? A girl?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. Rio softened. “A boy?”

“No, ma!” He exclaimed, embarrassed. “I-It’s a girl. I like a girl.. Por los clavos de Cristo.”

“Oh, I was preparing myself.” Rio placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d accept you no matter what, I just didn’t have a long wonderful speech prepared for it.. But what’s wrong with the girl?”

“Well, ma, it’s just..”

“Did she cheat on you!?”

“No! We’re not even together yet, ma. We were gonna have our first date today, but.. But her family’s been treating her horribly, and her older brother picked her up while we were out buying costumes for our halloween date only for him to directly tell me that it ain’t happening.”

“And then?”

“She talked ‘bout her dad throwing a fit, and now she hasn’t replied the whole day.” He slipped his fingers through his hair. “I even woke up at six in the morning just to get my braids redone at Tasha’s… And they invited me to a party at their house on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Then— that’s great!” Rio exclaimed, placing her hands over her son’s shoulders. “That would mean they’re open to getting to know you. Well, I think you can borrow some of your dad’s old clothes for the party, you two look great in suits anyway.”

“W-Well, ma, that ain’t entirely the problem, she’s..” He swallowed. “Ma, I think she comes from a very rich family.”

“Okay, and?” Rio raised a brow. “Did she ever make you feel inferior for having superior wealth?”

“.. No? Well, she’s been trying to keep it on the down low this whole time, but.. Whenever I see her, she acts so.. Proper and polite when she don’t even notice it. And her brother’s British too, and I— Ionno how the hell that happened, but he sound like the type to spit out tap water if I ever brought him to a restaurant.”

“Well, you’re dating the girl, Miles, not her brother.” Rio sighed. He thinks of it for a moment, then shrugs. Only then he notices his mother’s wide smile, her shoulder nearly glued onto his.

“So.. Who’s the girl?”

Miles fiddled awkwardly, unsure how to answer. Rio seemed adamant for an answer, so, after a while of internally mustering up sentences, Miles replied. “Her name.. [Y/n].”

“Mhm.”

“She uh.. Sixteen. I-I met her three months ago.. And we started doing graffiti together since then.”

“Oh, so she’s an artist?”

Miles gaped. “S… Sum like that, yeah.”

Your art varied. Your colors were blander while his, more vibrant. But there was something about the way you drew, that was so meaningfully realistic that it captured entirely how your mind pondered in its darkest moments. An art style that captured entirely the darkest of what life could bring.

He remembers going through your sketchpads, how your dabbles consisted of dull realism. Maybe it was only dull because it was exactly what New York’s become— cold and calloused.

But in contrast, you were able to set his world on fire in a way he’s never seen. Only you could paint over the dullness with scarlet, in a way that had him choking from the smoke emanating from your fire.

But he couldn’t tell his mother the way you’ve worsened him.

His mother wouldn’t let him get too close to someone as bright and dangerous as you.

“Why haven’t you mentioned about her before? I could’ve helped!” Rio tossed her dark curls to the side. They’d always reminded him of the dark sea. “Es puertorriqueña? Puede hablar español?”

“No,” Miles thinks about it for a minute. “I-Ionno, actually. She never told me anythin’ bout it, but she can’t speak Spanish so I ain’t sure.”

Rio attempted, no she really did try to attempt— to hide her disappointment. Were her grandkids bound to forever be free of her culture? How saddening.

“Pero creo que ella está estudiando español.”

“Oh?”

“Sí.” Mile seemed to lightened up. “She’s so cute. She can’t even pronounce ‘roja’.”

“But she’s trying.” Rio could not be any happier. “She’s trying! Eso es bueno! Ella ya me gusta. Not everyone tries these days, you know.”

He wondered if his mother was faking her enthusiasm just to ease him. He’d expected her to be more.. Angry about it.

“.. I’m surprised you’re not upset, ma.”

“Upset?” Rio furrowed her brows. “Miles, how could I get upset? You’re experiencing what every other teenager experiences, that’s great!.. I know you’ve been trying to act like an adult to help us, and you’ve given up so much just to keep us afloat. I’ve been getting worried that you’ve been focusing too much with adult responsibilities that you’re forgetting that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to go around and be a kid. You’re allowed to like a girl— so long as she’s not a bad influence.”

Miles pushes back the thought of you being a smoker.

“She’s not a bad influence. She’s.. Just going through a lot.. She makes me happy, ma.”

Rio looked at him proudly. Only then, she wondered if her dearest husband ever brooded like this too upon realizing his feelings for her. She wondered if Jeff ever pouted the way Miles did, and looked out into the world with such admiration in his eyes as though he were shaping the void into an image of her.

Jeff loved, and thus, Miles could love too.

“If she makes you happy, then I’m happy.” She beamed. “So long as she’s not a brat or an alcoholic, or a racist, or any of those bad people, I’ll accept her.”

The mother shared a loving glimpse of her son, making out an image of her late husband in the way he smiled. Suddenly, she pats her lap and stands up. “Bueno, I’m making adobo.”

“I can help—“

“No, sit down, you’re tired.” Rio held out a finger. “Take a rest, Miles.”

“But Ma—“

“Rest.”

And he did.

Well, he tried. It was a subtle attempt. A poor one, at that. He sat upright by the sofa, listening to his mother chop up the potatoes. He tries to discreetly look into your messages, only to find you’ve finally texted back.

her ♡ || two minutes ago.

sorry i haven’t texted!! 😭😭

remember the party this sunday? my dad is making me help with the preparations so i couldn’t go to our date

i’m really sorry 🥺 don’t get mad

if you want, we can do it tomorrow.

Miles pouted. He didn’t want to reply immediately. He didn’t want to look desperate.

So he waited for another five minutes.

.. Even though you made him wait for six hours.

He switches the television on in attempt to distract himself from your message.

‘Last night, a horrific murder happened within Brooklyn, as the body of a beheaded man was discovered outside of a local bodega. Witnesses claim that an alien disguised as a teenage girl had ripped off, and eaten the man’s head.’

“The hell?” Miles burrowed his brows upon being greeted with the news on television. “An alien?”

He watches as the screen switches over towards one of the witnesses, a scruffy man with reddened eyes— evidently too lost in whatever he was taking to speak too calmly.

“.. They’re prolly high as hell.”

‘I’m ain’t even [censored] with y’all— some [censored] ripped off Kyle’s head— it was a horrific looking piece of [censored] made out of black goo or whatever the [censored]. The government’s [censored] making alien [censored]!

‘So far, there have been no records of the scene, as the cameras had been blacked out.’

“What the f—“ Miles grew mindful of his language upon realizing his mother was in the other room. “How the hell did that even happen!? Blacked out my ass.”

It was more or less, likely a murder related to the elites. One of their kids must’ve been hanging out with those junkies and killed a man for fun.

A phone begins to ring. Miles turns his head.

“Miles, can you get that for me?” He heard his mother, who was too busy chopping up something, call out.

He turns off the television, hops out of the sofa and heads straight into his mother’s room. As he flicks the light open, a king-sized bed greets him with its gray, large glory. He used to jump on that bed too much when he was a kid. Now, it looked.. Desolate, and almost deserted. With how large the bed was, he couldn’t help but ponder how lonely his mother must’ve felt, sleeping in a bed less warmer than three years ago.

Miles passes by the closet, and after foraging for a bit, he manages to find his mother’s phone atop a drawer— swiftly grabbing the gadget before turning to leave.

As he turns, his foot accidentally nudges against a box.

He peers through it, before kicking it away.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he hands the ringing phone over to his mother before curtly returning to the room to close the lights.

But as his hands reached out towards the switch, his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the box.

It looked like it’d been cast aside beside the closet.

Hearing his mother speak over the phone lightheartedly, something about something. Miles trudges towards the orange, cardboard box, kneeling by the floor with a single knee down on the wood. His hand curiously glazes over the top, feeling a pile of dust collect over his fingers.

Hesitantly, he takes off the lid, finding a familiar white, collared shirt. He pulls it up to the ceiling light and watches as it unfolds into a larger sheet.

This belonged to his father’s.

He looks right back into the box, finding a pair of black, dress pants neatly folded into a square. Meekly, he tugs on it, hoping he wouldn’t uncover anything sinister like a severed hand or an eyeball. After pulling the whole thing out, a longer line of black unravels.

A strange array of emotions lingered inside him.

Nostalgia. Wrath. Happiness.

It smelled like dust, and it was forever devoid of its owner’s scent and warmth.

“Miles, do you want juice?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Grape juice would be nice.”

His mother’s comment slips past his ears. For a moment, he pondered about wearing this to the Sunday party, but he couldn’t help but think how it likely wouldn’t fit him. His father was a giant, and he was quite lanky.

Upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, Miles hurriedly and clumsily attempts to refold the clothes, only then hearing a soft clatter. He pivots his head to the side.

There was a USB.

“For the florals, I think daffodils would be great.”

Your hands skimmed across the air in attempt of drafting an idea. From afar, you manage to earn a wider view of the banquet hall. Workers left and right helped with tidying up the refectory, scrubbing up windows and mopping up the floors. “It would match the golden theme, don’t you think?” You asked of Charlotte, who nodded wobbly with her dire age.

As of that moment, you’d been preparing for the layout of the party. As much as you didn’t want to listen to Montrell’s suggestion, you figured getting on his bad side would be a bad move.

The fundraiser, originally hosted by your aunt, was planned out to gather enough money to support Senator Barlowe’s projects. Your family was to auction off high-priced materials such as clothes, jewelry, paintings, and even estates for the sake of meeting the goal. Which would also mean that the highest of the elite would be attending the party.

And you were less than thrilled to be its co-host.

Charlotte marvels at your suggestion, taking it with a smile but a pique. “However, daffodils can’t usually be placed with other flowers, so I’ll have to make a special request to the florist to do the preparations extensively.”

You raised a brow. “Why can’t they be placed together with other flowers?”

One of the maids carrying a porcelain vase walk past you, making you gently remind her to put it aside.

Charlotte parts her palms. “They secrete toxins into the water. So whenever it’s placed among other flowers, the rest die.”

“Oh,” You widened your gaze, processing this newly found information. “How did you know that?”

Charlotte blinked, trying to think back. “.. Well, daffodils were used for your mother and father’s wedding. It was a struggle, since the day of the wedding, half of the bouquet had already wilted.”

You stood back in surprise, crossing your arms before your chest. “Mama must’ve been furious.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Your father plucked flowers out from the gardens and made her a bouquet himself.”

Wait. What? WHAT?

Wow, who knew your daddy was quite the romantic?

I’m just as shocked as every other person.

“M-My father?” You dumbly repeated. “My father plucked out the flowers himself? Or was it Mr. Nigel?”

“Your father, himself, Miss.” Charlotte laughed, finding your shock to be quite amusing. “He’s quite great at it too— flower arrangement. Your grandmother taught him from an early age.”

“My father truly arranged the bouquet for him and mama’s wedding?” You couldn’t believe your ears. “He has that sort of talent?”

“Why, of course!” She beamed a warm beam. “Like you, he used to oversee the interior of the hotel. He has great taste when it comes to color, and you’ve inherited that side of him.”

You tried to think about it, your father— who was now an old man with a permanent sneer on his wrinkled lip— arranging flowers in his youth, picking out pastel and cream curtains for the parties, and overseeing the menu. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, at all. Then again, your mother used to describe him in a way that made it tragic.

A good man, never a good father. Torn between yearning to be held in arms that never welcomed him and finding his worth beyond the standard of his own father.

You tried to sympathize with him. Your father.

Though he was who he was, he cared about you, in a twisted, fucked-up way. Your engagement with Richard Fisk was privately decided after the hotel went near-bankrupt had it not been for the Fisks and their mystical talent for cover-ups— and your father simply took most of your managing rights away just so the family you’d marry into wouldn’t use you for their own greed.

The fate wasn’t entirely horrible either. You’d marry into new money, sure, but their wealth would most definitely preserve the comfortable life you’re living right now.

It was your own greed that was worsening you.

Your desire to have a tantamount of power.

But what if you never needed it?

“Miss!”

What if all you needed was a peaceful life? Marry into the Fisks, host parties, and care no more about anything?

“Miss [Y/n]!”

.. But what about Miles?

He hadn’t answered any of your texts yet.

“Miss [Y/n], a call.” One of your secretaries came crashing through the doors with his phone. How you hated that word. Call. A signal of what would definitely exhaust you. Where was Montrell? Why weren’t they calling out for him? Were you really the only one able to handle all the messes in here? Workers left and right stopped as he trudged up the stairs, nearly tossing the phone over to you. You slip it close to your ear, making your way down with each click of your heel.

Charlotte watches as you listen to the caller with such intent. Silently, you eyed your surroundings before heading out.

As you reached the patio, you looked out into the dimming violet evening that was fading out along with the scarlet of the sun. The caller rambles on, something along about the recent incident.

“I’ve bribed the higher-ups to rush the investigation and to arrest the witnesses. We’ll release the story that they had murdered their friend after taking drugs.”

“Good.” You plucked out your vape from your pockets. “Report to me immediately once you find all the records about their families and their identities.”

“Understood.” You hear the sound of Morrison’s computer typing. Likely writing up a list. “I’ve also halted the investigation of the fire. I’ve told your father the information was tracked from an accidental leak after a delivery of the samples to one of the families had the address exposed. Sir Anthony will have to take up the blame since it was his idea.”

You took a long huff. “Good job. You did well.”

The smoke lingers, and you close your eyes.

Sorry, Antonne. You’ll live, I guess.

“Morrison,” You called out to him. “.. How’s Miles?”

The typing comes to a halt. For a moment, the two of you shared a moment of silence. You picture him pushing his glasses up higher off the bridge of his nose.

“.. I’ve spent most of my attention on other things, so I haven’t been able to check up on him yet.”

“Ah, is that so?” You mumbled. “Never mind then, just continue on with halting the investigation. I’ll take care of the rest, and remember, if any of the witnesses start describing my face—“

Clack.

You turned your head.

What was that?

ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ‘Ｓ　ＨＥＲＥ

No shit.

Beyond the gardens, the skies were beginning to dim. That familiar shade of magenta, it lingered like a ghost and it haunted you like your past. There was a click that set your mind off, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel like the world was integrating itself into a technicolor, dotted comic.

Then and there, spying on you from the top of the six Corinthian columns of the garden, sat the young Prowler.

“Miss [Y/n]? You were saying?” Morrison pried from you.

You parted your phone from you ear, a side of your grin heightening into a catty smirk.

“… If any of them start describing my face, take care of it.”

Then and there, you ended the call with one light tap. You remained stubborn with your posture, seemingly amused and befuddled by it all while keeping your head high. The boy watched you curiously but stiffly, as if he were unsure of what to do. You were mutually frozen, but you couldn’t allow any sort of weakness to seep through the cracks of your confidence.

You took a step close, and he tenses. The sound of your heel clicking against the tiles sends an echo into the garden.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted of him with sincere politeness, placing a hand over your hip. Was it an attempt to appear idle or what? “… It’s quite an honor to have you here as a guest.”

“Who are you?” The boy growled, voice delved baritones deep. “Really.”

You tilted your head.

“Who would you like me to be?”

His gauntlet unfolds, and suddenly, he launches himself at you, grabbing you by the neck.

[A/n: I PASSED MY FUCKING ENTRANCE EXAM GUYS]

[fishuus]

i guess this is a rec list of stuff i liked in 2024?? no particular order, i just wanted to yak about some things i had a good time with.

bang brave bang bravern: maybe this isn't a legit comparison but i keep thinking of it as "what if samurai flamenco had a significantly tighter story (tomokazu sugita is also there)". if you like giant robots, you might like this. if you like a completely straight-faced commitment to the extremely funny bit of contrasting hard military scifi with the absurdity of classic giant robots, you might like this. if you're interested in sugita playing a robot who's a bottom, and also there's a lot of gay shit and the earnest power of true love, you might like this!

digimon story cyber sleuth & hacker's memory: a really fun set of turn-based jrpgs. cyber sleuth took me a while to warm up to (the localization could be better, to put it generously), but i came to enjoy its slightly offbeat sense of humor. hacker's memory, otoh, i loved from the start. it does a great job showing how cyber sleuth's story beats happened in parallel while still keeping the focus on a fantastic new cast and their own plotlines. the first game is a more standard digimon story about saving the world, while hacker's memory widens the perspective and shows a bit of the systems at play in the background. just a super satisfying game on every level for me.

shin godzilla: personally i love logging off work and my many meetings and watching a movie about a guy who has to go to even more meetings. i'm kidding, this was really fun (on account of all the meetings). i'll get to his kamen rider and ultraman movies too at some point.

gilgamesh (gardner & maier, also the david ferry version): paying my respects to the original yaoi 🫡

judgment: i wanted to try a rgg game without committing to playing 8 of them in order. turns out this is a perfect standalone game. it's such a tightly written story and character study, and it's really fun to play. kimutaku is so good at playing yagami so low-key, so tamped down, that when he explodes you really feel how angry he's been all along. the english cast is also great -- i enjoyed greg chun's take on yagami as well. (i played lost judgment too but wasn't quite so high on it. alas)

siren: watched sgf's excellent lp and loved this horror stealth game. the motion-capture work for the faces is a pretty cool workaround for the rendering limitations at the time while adding to the off-kilter vibe. i'm also a huge sucker for when studios lean into mixed media and use photos of real props (magazines, IDs in wallets, letters, etc) in their games. the story is kinda obtuse – and literally requires you to read extra official content to get some of the answers – but for something with such vague, stilted cutscenes with equally vague and stilted dialogue, especially with the added layer of a classic ps2-era english dub, i became attached to the entire cast stuck in this extremely bleak and scary scenario. i guess the best way i can sum it up is that it's a game that knows exactly how to play you.

digital devil saga 2: finished right before the world is actually set to end in 2025 in the game lol. it's so good!! i'm grateful that even after all this time, i managed to go into this mostly blind, because the way the plot reveal recontexualizes so much about the first game and the absolute rank relationship dynamics between some of the characters just blew me away. probably has some of my favorite character designs of all time, and i also think it's sooo fun to play thanks to my having turn-based long jrpg brain sickness. such an all-timer of a duology.

nine sols: i'm still not done with it on account of it being a parry-focused metroidvania and me sucking shit at both platforming and parrying, but it's great! it feels so confidently produced, kinda wild considering how different it is from their previous two games, devotion and detention (both of which i also highly recommend). the art and design work are beautiful, and i'm really enjoying how bleak the plot is. you can tell they made two horror games before this lol. i also love story mode. thank you, story mode.

風林火山韻雷 -bring it back-: lmao. anyway, it's a super fun song and mv that packs in everything i like about akyr (mixing traditional with modern both in the song and the imagery, high energy, everyone's great ofc but takayuki kondo especially killing it with that bridge, akyr making aggro songs about murdering their enemies).

[carlyraejepsans]

Given that the winter clock dialogue shows Flowey on the surface living with Frisk and their found family (unsure of actual living arrangements but assuming he lives with Frisk and Toriel), how do you think a REAL "yes, I used to be Asriel" conversation would come about?

The winter dialogue does have Toriel acknowledge him as "Asriel", but she was black-out drunk at the time so her thought process/memory in this case is debatable.

She has at least noticed key similarities between Asriel and Flowey, but even if she knows the truth there's nothing to suggest she's brought it up while sober.

I'm more interested in the prospect of a thoughtful conversation between the two after the fact. It seems kind of inevitable if Flowey is spending the rest of his life on the surface, but how would it go?

Would an uncomfortable Flowey have to deal with an emotional reunion? Would Toriel have a better understanding of his boundaries due to more recent shared experiences? How shocked would she be that a part of her first ever child was with her once again?

I'm absolutely positive that she would share custody with Asgore after it's out in the open, even if she isn't completely comfortable with it. Not sure how Sans would feel about things since it's pretty clear he's killed before, but a judge can't really do their job without the whole truth. Maybe he'd be willing to hear him out?

not sure where you're getting the "they're co-living and it's canon" from, flowey isn't shown to be living with toriel, neither is frisk mentioned in any of the dialogues. I'm assuming the implication here is that frisk IS the reader, and that ambiguity allows for both the "i want to stay with you" and "i have places to go" endings. we know flowey's not secluded to the RUINs anymore as was his original plan, and we know he's kept in contact with papyrus, who's trying to introduce him to the others (although unsuccessfully so far), but nothing more than that.

as for toriel, I don't think her calling him asriel was either intentional or rational. I think it was a subconscious expression of the ""true"" reason she's holed herself up in the RUINs trying to save the fallen humans. if a froggit happened to hop by at that moment, she would've done the same to it.

flowey/asriel reveal, huh? hm... let's see. to be honest, i don't think flowey would ever come clean about either his identity or his crimes to anyone else, especially not his old family. not of his own volition, that is. i could see some kind of indiscretion happening that causes him to reveal it on accident, but he would bolt it out of there as soon as he realized his cover was blown. he doesn't like confronting his issues! subsequent conversation attempts with him would be extremely emotionally immature and hard to get through, as the situation would temporarily undo some of his progress after leaving the underground as a trauma response. toriel... wouldn't be doing well either. super messy situation. no one is happy with this

the custody thing is really funny to me. mostly because i find the idea of trying to explain to a lawyer that you need to amend your divorce settlement bc you didn't know you had an undead son absolutely hilarious. but also because flowey would go out of his way to contradict it and do whatever he wants out of spite

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

'Oh the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me~...'

Main 10 skeletons building gingerbread houses with their S/O

Undertale Sans - He writes "sans" on the roof of his gingerbread house and calls it a day. If he's feeling extra motivated, he can draw a stickman Papyrus on the other part of the roof.

Undertale Papyrus - Who needs a house when you can have a castle? Papyrus might have been a bit carried away when he ordered a 2 meters high gingerbread castle. It's even bigger than your Gyftmas tree and none of you is tall enough to reach the higher towers so you have to ask for help to Toriel like losers. Papyrus is very proud of his castle though. He's so proud of it that he will refuse to take it off before next year actually. Good luck with that.

Underswap Sans - He loses interest after 10 minutes and does the bare minimum so it doesn't look ugly. But he doesn't put much effort into it either. The second you turn your back, he finds a way out of here. You might catch him several times trying to climb the window. He always acts like you're hallucinating though.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey loves Christmas activities and he'll gladly spend the whole afternoon drawing on gingerbread houses. He likes to work in a duo with his S/O in the same house. One takes the walls, the other takes the roof, and they change on the next house. The result is actually really cool as all the houses have a different Disney theme.

Underfell Sans - Well, he tried. He was actually really motivated to do it and everything, but Red is just so bad at this. You don't have the heart to tell him even a three-year-old kid could have done a better job than this. You discreetly try to redecorate the houses behind you, but you know he's going to be offended if he catches you so you just accept your fate and leave these horrors on display (but slightly hidden behind the Christmas tree, and a little more behind each day).

Underfell Papyrus - You and Edge apparently don't have the same definition of Christmas Spirit. Your houses are all colorful with sweets and everything. Edge's houses are entirely black and red with spikes, bear traps, and flamethrowers on every window. At least he seems to have fun. You think he got a little confused about what he was supposed to do, but that's a bit too late now. At least, you know who to ask if you need decorations for next Halloween.

Horrortale Sans - Oak tries to focus on his house, but the longer the activity is, the slower his movements are. Oak is not good with tasks asking him to repeat gestures and focus for a long time. After two hours, he passes out on the table, too tired to keep going. His house decorations are not very good either as he forgot several times what he was drawing during the activity. He lets you finish for him though.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow loves manual activities and he loves Christmas so he's really excited. You're not going to hear him much though as when Willow is really focus on something, he completely forgets everything else. The end result is really pretty though, and you can tell he put all of his soul into it, with lot of small details that only you can understand because he's sweet like that.

Swapfell Sans - You thought Nox wouldn't have the patience for this but you're so wrong. Nox is incredibly precise and his gingerbread house turns out a hundred times better than yours. Nox is extremely patient and he has a good memory. You show him what you wanted him to do on a picture and he reproduced it almost pixel perfect. That's actually impressive. And sad. He could have been such a good artist if he lived in another universe.

Swapfell Papyrus - Why would you let him do what he wants to do? None of his gingerbread houses are child-friendly. You are desperate, but you made the mistake of laughing at his roof covered with big bananas and ice cream balls, and that just encouraged him to draw even worse things. He can't be trusted with activities like that.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Urgh, fiiiine. He'll do it for you, but he won't stop complaining because he has other things to do. Think of his reputation! What if someone sees him decorate tiny gingerbread houses instead of doing... He doesn't know, crimes? Everything but gingerbread houses! That's so unfair! He's a genius, an evil mastermind, and he's decorating tiny gingerbread houses!

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - That's fun! Coffee loves painting, so he is doing his best to make the gingerbread houses look good. He paints all the rooves with winter landscapes and tries to paint the walls so it becomes a trompe-l'oeil. All of his creations are really cool and you're just a tiny bit jealous of how talented he is.

[pigtailedgirl]

Due South Season 3/4 from an Fraser/Vecchio perspective? Would there be interest?

How interested would peeps be in a review watch or some meta leaned that way?

Spoilers! And example for the brave of Strange Bedfellows.

Strange Bedfellows shook me again on re-watch.

Cause that to me is an episode bluntly about both Fraser and Kowalski not over their losses. Kowalski is Stella. And Fraser is, well sure you can guess, Ray V!

It's Fraser trying to get Kowalski to get over or gain an understanding how to because he himself is having such a hard time. He feels the same pain! Wants to help or relate. Fraser is in fix-it mode as a cope. While Kowalski does not see Fraser and cannot give that consideration, too wrapped in his own.

Ray: Look, I know that, but I, um...I worry about her. I...I think about her all the time. 

Fraser: It must not be easy for you. 

Ray: You have no idea. 

Oh, I really REALLY think he does Ray K. That reaction.

The episode has Fraser narrowly fucking passing his psych exam. Losing it because he’s got «Closets » going on in his mind subconsciously while he covers with I only see justice and the job in the ink blotches. Which when he tries to bring up Closets or what it means Kowalski is alarmed by. Does not understand the reference. Or understands too well, but doesn’t associate.

Like the therapist says, let’s play a little Word Association Time. What has the show associated closets with repeatedly?

Then there is Fraser being awkwardly argumentative telling Kowalski there are people who breakfast date you know.

Ray: A breakfast date? 

Fraser: Well sure, people have luncheon dates, dinner dates, why not a breakfast date? 

Ray: Because it's um...what's the word? Stupid. 

Fraser: What's so stupid about that? I mean eating together is eating together. I don't see how the time of day is relevant. 

Ray: It's relevant because people go on dates to get into bed, not out of them. 

Fraser: That's an extremely narrow interpretation... 

Ray: You know, Fraser, if I want to know how to track musk ox across the tundra, fine. But when it comes to the dating habits of The Stella, I happen to be an expert. 

Fraser: All I'm trying to say is... 

Ray: Plus it would take an act of God to get her out of bed. I don't think she drove an hour across town just to chomp cereal with muttonhead. 

Ah. Yeah.

Finally, the ending scenes.

Fraser asking Kowalski if it's true he meant you can't go back, and Kowalski says no, I lied. Right in the feels for both. Kowalski says he feels like being alone. Then they walk off in different directions and… don’t bother to fix that. It knocks me dead as an example of where Ray K and Fraser are at for now.

When Fraser is awkwardly aware he’s in his closet at episode end and that has Thatcher, his usual heterosexual love interest, and himself, judging the mental stability there of. With his closet converted to his ghost dad's office cabin. His ghost dad as his only emotional outlet or escape.

When Ray K is still dancing with the music and memory of him and Stella alone in his apartment. What Eclipse hinted is a pattern. Still focused on what could have been.

Heartbreaking.

[unintentionalseductress]

https://www.tumblr.com/nanamiscocksleeve/773722545185865728/why-does-everyone-portray-caleb-to-be-dark?source=share

I agree with you!!

And my apologies Abt the zade thing, I made that reference because that's how I've seen many other writers (whom I won't name) portray him.

And I get that like you've said- he's got potential traits to be a yandere, but to write him wholly f*cking mc with a gun, with the explicit caption 'toxic Caleb' with dub-con?

Like I get it's fiction and ppl can write to their heart desires but when ppl r saying it's canon and it so quickly became the stereotype for that one character to the point that's the only thing you see online Abt him, it's tiring- especially when it doesn't fit him.

Like I kid you not, I actually didn't like Caleb for a while because of how everyone was initially characterizing him and the headcannons on how 'he's so dark romance coded' or 'hes giving zade vibes' and these were real comments, comments that made me avoid him until I was curious and decided to find out myself. Only to find out he's totally different??? Like I really wonder if we're actually experiencing the same thing bc I really don't see the 'extreme!! possessive! obsessive!' lover evb was speaking of 🤔

(URL change, no need to be scared. This blog used to be called nanamiscocksleeve. )

No need to apologize about the Zade thing, I know you were just saying what you saw from other blogs.

I've somehow missed a lot of the crazy toxic Caleb posts but omg, people are actually writing him f**king MC with a gun? I get it, it's fiction but geez that's dark and not on character for him. Infold has done a good job with keeping their LI's quite gentle when it comes to MC and I don't think Caleb is any different. He has no interest to hurt her or fuck her up emotionally, and it's evidenced so much in his memories so I just don't get it. People will see what they want to see I guess.

All the LI's have their own weird toxic traits around MC but I want to reiterate that they've only known her for a year and they have their other friends and colleagues whereas Caleb and she found each other as orphans in a shelter. Growing up they didn't have anyone except each other. I think this automatically puts Caleb in the right to feel like he's more entitled to her time and energy.

Even Zayne, who was a childhood friend isn't the same as Caleb. He might have been the boy next door but Zayne had a stable home and loving parents who were present for him as he grew up. That's very different compared to Caleb whose only perspective of stability comes from the relationship he has with MC.

I feel that way too, I feel like I saw something very different to what others are writing here. I see Caleb as someone who lost everything, found a family, even found love, then it was ripped away from him again. Now he and MC, essentially his anchor, don't know how to redefine their relationship. The MC he knew was probably clingy, and always wanted to be with him for everything. Now she's distanced herself and for two people who have never had that relationship of keeping secrets or maintaining distance, the amount of work it takes to adjust to that new dynamic can be crushing.

Caleb is possessive and obsessive but not to the point that it's dangerous. A little toxic perhaps since we know that he has mental health issues and refuses to get help but his end goal isn't to make MC fear or submit to him. He always looks so guilty whenever she looks scared and he's always asking her if he scared her. He even lets her remove parts of his uniform before they remove her chip if that's what it took to calm her down. He's aware how much he affects her and how much she wants their old relationship back and I think it really kills him inside to see her like this.

[losingdcgs]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { marcela everly } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { she } is ? they kind of look like { giovana cordeiro } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { twenty-eight } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { twenty-eight years }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { fleabag } from { fleabag }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { retro roots } as a { salesperson }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { black hole } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { self-destructive } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { humorous } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { three bedroom } apartment beside me over in { sunset villas }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you! 

Basics !

Full name: Marcela Everly

Nickname: N/A

Gender: Cis woman

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 28

Birthday: July 17th

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship Status: Single

Occupation: Salesperson @ Retro Roots

Time in Palmview: 28 years

Counterpart: Fleabag (Fleabag)

Label: The black hole

Enneagram: 7w6 (the enthusiast, the adventurer)

Aesthetic: The end of a brand new lipstick already smushed, last night's makeup smudged around your eyes, unread text messages, waking up with a pounding in your head, a trail of disaster following you, a wine bottle shattered on the floor, laughter masking tears, uncertainty hanging over your head

Quick Backstory ! (minor neglect tw)

Early childhood is one big, chaotic blur for Marcela. Maybe she's lucky that way, barely able to remember the unfit home she spent her first few years in or the memory of the social worker collecting her. What she does remember clearly is getting welcomed into the Everly family with opened arms. She lost a family who didn't seem all too interested in fighting for her, so what? She gained loving parents, a big brother, and sisters in the exchange.

It should've been a comfort, knowing this family chose her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe they would change their minds. To be clear, it wasn't anything they did that made her feel this way, it was more just the fear that it would happen again. The fear didn't manifest in her trying to be some picture perfect daughter or chase her to the other extreme, instead, it just left her lost.

She made her way through life, feeling no real sense of direction and this growing void in her chest that she filled with meaningless and fleeting connections. Maybe these were things that everyone grappled with? Feeling lost in the transition from childhood to adulthood was perfectly normal, right?

Well, that feeling hasn't gone away. Stuck in Palmview (or maybe just too scared to leave the people she knows love her), Marcela is now working a sales job at Retro Roots, hoping for some sort of sign from the universe to jump out at her and let her know what she's supposed to be doing with her life.

Misc. !

The type of person to use humor to cover any serious emotions or problems until she literally can't anymore and breaks down(not ideal to her, she would prefer to continue to deflect with humor).

Lowkey a little awkward, especially when her jokes or snark doesn't land with the person she's speaking with. It doesn't seem to really bother her.

Genuinely loves the people in her life, but can honestly be a bit self-sabotage-y in romantic and platonic relationships. She's far from perfect and has definitely caused some damage in her relationships.

She got extremely lucky with her adoptive family, don't get her wrong, but there's still this lost, empty feeling inside that she generally tries to fill with physical relationships.

Would likely say disaster follows her around, when in reality she very much has a hand in the problems that plague her.

Has a love/hate relationship with her job. On the one hand she hates it because she doesn't know what she wants to do with her life, just that she doesn't want to be a salesperson forever. On the other though, there is something appealing to her when it comes to selling vintage things.

Wanted Connections !

I'm going to have all my wanted connections here (I still have to go into detail about them), but I'm genuinely open to anything! Give me all the wholesome, angsty, messy connections your hearts desire <3

[themisfortunateone]

LENORA CHARACTER SHEET!!

(DISCLAIMER!! jaws and lenora are basically the same person, buuutt, jaws lost all her memories and only remembers life before her first death, so she only remembers life as being lenora and doesn’t remember anyone…they are basically two sides of the same coin since in reality they are just the same person with REALLY different personality’s if that makes sense…so she doesn’t remember life as jaws and she gets really upset and angry when people call her that because from what she’s heard, jaws was very weak and she doesn’t wanna be associated with her “past self.” she also believes that her “forgetting her memories” is just an elaborate prank since in her mind, her memory is perfectly intact. the only person she remembers however is max and that’s only because of house making her remember him…anyways disclaimer over !!)

Name: Lenora.

Nicknames: Len, Leni, moth person, weapon, hat girl, dear, jaws…

Age: 17.

Birthday: 12/22.

Species: Moth.

Family: “none of your ####### business…”

Height: 5’6.

Pronouns: she/they.

Sexuality: bisexual.

interests: anything valuable currency wise…jewelry, gold objects, silver objects, guns, crystals, philosophy (surprisingly) money, knives, etc etc…

likes: money. hot sauce, silly juice, being by herself, watching arguments, antagonizing people, her gun, piercings, music, people with a backbone, the dark, her electric guitar, and maybe a few people…

dislikes: overly sweet people, being vulnerable, crowds, the color orange, her old “job” her parents, people ruining her “fun”, liars, people who call her jaws.

“STOP CALLING ME JAWS THATS NOT MY ###### NAME, NEXT TIME SOMEONE CALLS ME THAT IM BLOWING YOUR ####### BRAINS OUT.”

Personality: Lenora is VERY violent and extremely rude to mostly everyone she’s in contact with..she is harsh with her words and doesn’t sugarcoat most things, and she loves to antagonize people the second she gets the chance to do so. Lenora however does have a soft spot for a certain person however…and she only shows slight softness when they are around but she’s not usually nice..she is trying(??) to change a bit, but it’s hard to break old habits…and she’s known for taking her anger out on others and self projecting her issues onto them. in reality, lenora doesn’t really mean the stuff she says, she just doesn’t know how to communicate, so she resorts to being mean and violence since that’s all she’s ever known..

Brief backstory!!

Lenora didn’t have the best influence when she grew up…her family was heavily involved in gangs and illegal substances, and she was even forced to be involved in that type of life as well…she learned how to use weapons at a young age and she would also be forced to unalive people until eventually, she started finding joy in it and doing it purely out of entertainment..she also had a bit of a drinking problem…one day, she ends up meeting this girl who was apart of a rivaling gang and they fall in love, they started dating in secret but Lenora’s parents found out and they weren’t too thrilled to find out that their daughter was gay and was dating someone from a rivaling gang…sssoo they ended up punishing Lenora, and her girlfriend broke up with her—even worse, her girlfriend never even actually loved her, she just used her for a primary source of information. Lenora decided she was tired of the life she was living and wanted to change, so she planned to run away…she got someone to take her away and put her escape plan into motion…butttt, while she in the back seat of the car drinking her problems away as the getaway driver tried to take her to safety, the car EXPLODED…(spoiler alert, someone from the gang found out and informed her parents, and her parents didn’t want her going out in the real world and telling everyone their secrets, and since she was causing problems already, they thought it would be better to just kill her off…) and then lenora DIED.

Scent: Smoke and fruits..

Text color: blue…

voice claim: aaalso coming soon…

Lenora’s playlist !!

lenora’s design!!

(also, fun fact, the reason why jaws used to carry an empty bottle around with her was because of the fact when she died, she was holding one because like i said, lenora died drinking her problems away before the car exploded…and when jaws woke up in the field, she had the bottle clenched tightly in her hand and she thought it was a clue as to where she might’ve come from so she kept it with her!!)

[where-i-overanalyze]

the significant lack of parents in Soul Eater and how the DWMA combats that

obviously, there are some parents present throughout the entirety of Soul Eater, but they truly are not amongst the greatest: Medusa, Spirit, Lord Death (he's okay in comparison to everyone else, but still not dad of the year). i started this just wanting to talk about how there are almost no parents and then ended up realizing some sorta nice things about the DWMA by the end of it. manga spoilers, so beware.

characters who have living parents

let's start with Maka since she's the only one who has one parent present and one parent mentioned in somewhat detail. Spirit certainly is quite the character; he has almost no redeemable qualities except for the fact that he does actually love and support his child. that's all good, and yet he cannot correct his behavior to actually make himself a person that his daughter will respect. he cares so much and yet he does nothing to try and be a better father for her and what she actually needs from a parent.

but then we have Maka's "wonderful" unnamed mother. great mom, great meister, never given an example as to what this woman could really be like. i haven't been into Soul Eater for super long and i'm sure there are definitely people who have been shitting on Maka's mom, but it's interesting to me purely because even though there aren't many parents in Soul Eater to begin with, there is an even more extreme lack of mothers. i'm going to get nebulous with the definition throughout this post, but it really just seems like the "idea" of a good mother is all the characters get. Maka only gets memories of how great her mother was, maybe because she truly wasn't that great in the first place. a meister who made a death scythe is never to be seen throughout the greatest threat of all time within the past 800 years, not even to check on her one daughter? maybe she's busy? sure. idc what she's doing, but that's a strike out for me.

moving away from Maka's dubious parents, let's look at Kid and Lord Death. in truth, he's not nearly as bad as the other parents in terms of actual parenting, but he is clearly much different in relation to the other parents. he's not human, he's in charge of seemingly their entire world, and Kid is essentially just a chunk of Lord Death that was given sentience. with that, we have to think of exactly what is it that death gods even need in order to be raised. since Asura was a failed attempt, Kid was specifically "born with a childish nature so he [could] learn fear, much like humans" (DTK Soul Eater Wiki page). am i really citing a source in my Tumblr post, is this who i am. SO, thinking about what death gods are meant to do with their power and the fact that they are meant to keep balance in the world, i'd say that Lord Death did a pretty good job of getting Kid to become the best death god he could be. when it comes to actual "normal" parenting standards, idek if we can hold Lord Death up to those since they both are very much not normal. keeping Kid in the dark about some insanely important details about the academy (the Kishin in the basement) and letting Kid know that Lord Death would die when he awoke his true powers, maybe not the best choice, but i'll admit that i'm an extremist when it comes to people keeping important secrets that could have saved everyone a lot of time and trouble.

actually, i take some of my positive statements back when thinking about how Lord Death handled Asura. i know Asura was all powerful and just sort of super insane, but given the fact that Asura was a failed attempt of a fragment and Kid was Lord Death's way of trying again, it feels kind of wrong to give him a title of Decent Dad when his first attempt at making a young death god ended up so so so messed up. also, making a second one just in the hopes of solving your first mess up, kinda fucked up.

anyways, Tsubaki! she's honestly very interesting because we know that both of her parents are alive, but we see almost NOTHING about them. the only time we actually see her dad is in chapter 49 and that's basically it. her mom is mentioned, but we never even get to see her or get her name, so once again there is just no mother present at all and just the "idea" of her. given the fact that they pretty much neglected their other child to the point that he became a serial killer because he wasn't treated the same as Tsubaki, i can't give them much credit for good parenting. maybe Tsubaki came out okay and mild-mannered, but Masamune straight up just got neglected and went bonkers because of it.

and now we reach the grand finale of horrible present parents, Crona and Medusa. debated about putting her in the "dead parents" category, but Medusa is alive for the majority of Soul Eater, so she can stay here. obviously, Medusa's the absolute worst. she literally never has any good intentions for anything she does with Crona, she's extremely manipulative, blatantly abusive, etc. she literally dangles the concept of being a good mother in front of Crona to get them to obey her and in the end that gets her killed (and yet that STILL was part of her plan. she's literally insane). she also tricks other people into helping her by pretending she's worried about Crona. she contributes the mother "idea" again, though this time she is very present, just not as a good mother. i won't go into all the shit that Medusa did, we all know she was horrible. i go into more of Medusa's manipulation in this post.

characters who have dead parents

Black☆Star, i think, is the only character of the main cast that has confirmed dead parents. he never knew any of his clan and sort of renounces them (maybe renounce isn't the right word, but his whole character arc about choosing his own path and defeating Mifune makes it somewhat clear that he doesn't want to end up like his parents). we know about his father, White☆Star, but once again, the mother is never mentioned. from what we're shown . . . yeah, the Star clan sucked and were obsessed with power and whatnot. it's an interesting contrast with Tsubaki: they both come from very well known family lines with very different connotations surrounding them. to an outsider who knows about both of their families, it probably seems a bit sacrilegious for Black☆Star to be partnered with her in the first place.

characters whose parents are MIA

Liz and Patty at least have an "unnamed woman" shown as their mother for a single panel in chapter 78. the "prettiest prostitute in New York" obviously didn't do much to raise them since they were the Brooklyn Devils for a while. no mention of a father and an evidently absent mother, we are once again hit with the "idea" of a mother that isn't there. Liz literally says she hates her mother, thanks her for bringing her and Patty into existence, and nothing else is said about her. it's only after they get sorta "drafted" by Kid that they get to live a pleasant life. there's obviously also some things to say about economic status and being dealt a bad hand in life and whatnot, but i can get into that another time i think.

now, Soul. homie has got NO PARENTS EVER MENTIONED. the closest we get is Wes and unnamed grandma who is never shown. he's literally the only character we don't get shit for who his parents are, where they are, if they're even living and i think that speaks volumes. going off of assumptions, the fact that Soul literally renounced his family name, ran away to go to weapon school, and didn't play the piano for years until he was able to do it, sort of, on his own terms most likely means that his parents were some kind of horrible. also, being forced to play into a family legacy has got to be unhealthy. always feeling overshadowed by your older sibling who, obviously, has more experience is upsetting, but the fact that Soul was seemingly never reassured about his skills is dubious at best. i have strong feelings about forcing children into family legacies, maybe that can be its own post some day as well, and if your kid feels like they actually have to run away to escape it, well then i don't think it works out very well. it's incredibly important that we don't get any parental information from Soul and that we never hear anything about anyone from his family looking for him. maybe he told them he was leaving, but maybe he just slipped away and nobody bothered to look for him.

actual parental figures

while writing this, i realized that everyone in this category is a DWMA professor. DWMA as a whole seems to provide all of the main cast with a place to be that was much better than where they came from. Black☆Star and Maka sort of grew up in and around the DWMA, Soul, Liz, and Patty all came from much worse places before enrolling, Tsubaki and Kid kinda seem like they were chilling tbh, and of course Crona literally experiences positive emotions for the first time during their short time there. schools, ideally, should give their students the opportunity to grow in their skills and find a community with the students and teachers so that they can have an overall positive experience.

Marie is definitely the best example of this and despite the fact that she isn't even a mother (i refuse to acknowledge the unborn baby in chapter 113, most of that chapter is a black stain in my memory that even bleach couldn't remove), she is easily the healthiest mother figure in the entire series. she actually cares about the students even though she was initially reluctant to be a teacher. she worries about their wellbeing, she talks to them about their problems, and overall she is the closest to that "idea" of a mother that keeps showing up. i think part of this is because she sort of realizes that she has this power of being a teacher and a death scythe, but also there are points where she realizes she can't be reckless because she has to be there for the students (thinking specifically about the tempest and how she knows she can't go back in there to save them). she leaves an impression on Crona and she's one of the few people they actually remember Medusa's second wave of experiments she does on them. Crona saw her as a good, supportive person and it continually haunts them that they betrayed her. it's the exact opposite relationship they have with Medusa; Marie is only kind and understanding to Crona when they expect betrayal and hatred, and Medusa is only cruel when all Crona needed was some sort of . . . well, anything healthy.

Stein is interesting to me because he's more of a fun uncle than a "father" in my eyes. he doesn't coddle his students and sometimes he's a bit harsh with them, but this is purely because he knows they can achieve things they don't realize they're capable of. by the end of the manga, he fully acknowledges that, wow, these kids are pretty good at all of this!!! and i taught them this shit!!! go kids!!! now, all of this being said, i do not think he could be a real, healthy father unless someone sucked out all the madness in his brain out with a straw. even with no madness, i doubt he'd want kids because he's got all these spunky students to supervise. this is also why i refuse to acknowledge the chapter 113 unborn baby, i think Stein would know he couldn't be a father and gave himself a vasectomy.

finally, i want to talk a bit about Sid. i wish so badly that the manga went into some more detail about him practically raising Black☆Star after the DWMA eliminated the Star clan. they don't treat each other like father and son, but it's clear that Sid at least cared enough to make sure he was raised and trained well. it makes the mission where Sid and Naigus go into the Arachnophobia lab to destroy the machine and Black☆Star shows up kind of more interesting since Sid's like "Whoever that student is, thank god they're here" and then he's like "Wait a damn minute, that's MY student." it's also nice to see when Sid's proud of him and whatnot. i just like this dynamic they have where it's like not fully familial, but they're more than just a mentor and mentee.

in an attempt to come to a final point, i that the DWMA really gives something to all these characters that they needed and lacked in their familial situations. sounds cheesy and it is, but i find it so nice that such a pleasant and supportive school structure is found in a universe in which people turn into weapons and fight horrors and the school is training all these kids to fight horrors. Maka gets to chase after these legendary stories she's heard about her mother, and becomes arguably more successful than her mother. Soul gets the chance to make his own path outside of the family name he's abandoned and also gets to reclaim his music along the way. Black☆Star and Tsubaki get to be this duo that allows them to kind of get out of these super old expectations of their bloodlines and by working together they get to subvert these expectations and prove people wrong about the type of people they want to be. Liz and Patty got to escape the shitty holes they'd been born into and actually be people they were proud of. Kid was able to actually understand other people, to an extent, and it made him capable of becoming the next death god. The actual human kindness that Crona was shown there is eventually what lets them sacrifice themself for everyone else since they know that it will bring good in the end. the students in Soul Eater may have some real shit parents, but the DWMA is apparently there to fill in the void of those parents.

thank you for joining me for another long af Soul Eater post. i think my next endeavor will be tackling how the manga timeline works, b/c it's pretty fucked up imo

[chalkrevelations]

ok, wow, Dangerous Romance. WOW.

Looking at the preview for next week, dare I hope that someone has heard my mutterings about has realized how badly Bad Buddy dealt with bullying and its fallout and is actually going to do some of the cleanup and reconciliation work that BB almost completely leapfrogged over?

Hold on, I might need to sit down.

Because, listen. I love BB as much as anyone, it was probably my real gateway into Thai bl, but it's always bugged me how much that show and this writing team - the same team responsible for Dangerous Romance - allowed the execrable behavior by Pat and the Engineering Backup Hobbits to disappear down the memory hole once the romance storyline kicked into gear, and how much the show was allowed to get away with that, to the point that Wai's concern over Pat's apparently - from the outside - sudden obsessive interest in Pran was seen as intrusive and inappropriate and the rest of the Architecture Backup Hobbits were seen as trash friends for being unhappy to suddenly learn that Pran was dating someone who was responsible for repeated physical assaults on them, rather than Pran's consorting with Pat being seen - at. all. - as the friendship betrayal that it was.

Y'all. I saw someone recently making the argument that Pat was better than Kanghan because sweetheart Pat would never really punch down, and I was like, "I don't think I can even deal with this right now" and just kept scrolling. Because I've posted before about how Pat and the rest of Engineering essentially are Kanghan and Nawa and Third Backup Hobbit, what is this J's character's name that I can't remember right now, gdi? Pat and the Engineering Backup Hobbits are manifestly responsible for starting 95% of the physical altercations that we see in BB, and the other 5%, the bus stop altercation - although we know Wai was pissed about the video uploaded to the Internet, I don't remember that we're ever actually told who threw the first punch. Pat's reputation at the school - ALREADY, and how long has he even been there? - is that he's the guy who makes life miserable for Architecture students. Pat is responsible for siccing the other three on Wai in the first place, including an attempt at aggravated assault that they end up accidentally committing on Pran instead, and wanting to get humiliating video of Wai to upload to the Internet, just as Kanghan attempts to do to Sailom in DR. Pat sits back in the booth at the bar, fuming over a rebuff from Pran and lording it over Wai's humiliation - at his job - which is presented by Korn as a night's "entertainment" for Pat, in much the same way Kanghan sits on his trash-panda throne in an unused room of the school and lords it over his schoolmate subjects while Nawa and Third Backup Hobbit lock Guy in a closet and work over Auto, as well as attempting to get Sailom fired from one job and poisoning his ability to do another job.

And it's extremely subtexutally suggestive that Pat is, in fact, punching down when he goes after Wai, who's a scholarship student and, while not the only character we see working at a job, isn't working at a family business as Pa and Pran do. We learn that he needs to be able to balance his extracurriculars and his studies because he needs to keep his scholarship, and all of that is suggestive that he's not as well-off as the rest of the students, and that he can't retaliate or protect himself in any meaningful way when he's harassed on the job because he likely needs the job in the first place because he needs the money for things his scholarship doesn't pay for. If Pat and the rest of Engineering get him fired with their stunt at his workplace, he could potentially not be able to afford school, which could change the entire path of his life. So yeah, Pat punches down, along with Korn and Chang and Mo, just like Kanghan does, along with Nawa and Third Backup Hobbit, gdi, hold on ... Max, that's his name. Just because Architecture in BB generally do a better job of physically hitting back than Sailom's crew doesn't mean that Engineering aren't just as much bullies as Kanghan and his lackeys.

And I'm pretty excited to see that Sailom is going to attempt to make Kaghan not just behave about it but do some work to make reparations and build better relationships. This is why I'm always a little baffled at people who cite the pacing as why they're giving up on the show - we've gotten plenty of hints that none of the real issues are solved yet. That possessiveness that has Kanghan pulling Sailom away from everyone else by the wrist is going to come back and be an issue. The fact that Sailom basically indentured himself to Kanghan's family to pay off his own family's debt - that has the potential to come back and be an issue. No, everything's not solved yet - we're only halfway through.

[curator-on-ao3]

I never came back from Among the Lotus Eaters

I see now, in hindsight of SNW season two, that Among the Lotus Eaters was a breaking point for me.

First, that episode needed to transition Batel and Pike from … whatever they were … to a deeper relationship. And what did the episode do?

It hung their issues on not enough time for each other. (How many dinner parties has this man thrown?)

It made Pike a commitment-phobe. (Really? Pike? Y’all sure you meant second season Pike not second season Picard?)

It undercut Pike as a captain as well as his pain dating back to The Cage. (Say, fellas, is it okay to leave your yeoman behind if someone at some point said he looked kinda dead?)

Here’s the thing. I would have bought the episode starting with Batel and Pike having an adult discussion about how they could have hated each other after Una’s arrest and trial but they don’t. They’re still drawn to each other. Then I would have bought Pike’s relationship hesitancy being due to his concerns about his fate — and Una later calling him out on his potential fears for longer-term intimacy when he believes his days are numbered. (And if the show backtracks to make this Pike’s motivation, I’m gonna call bullshit because it should have been there from the start. I’ve seen a thousand stories about commitment-phobes. But a story about a person frightened to hurt someone they might be falling for because of a known timeline to the end? That’s actually interesting.)

Then, I would have bought Pike on the planet holding the necklace and feeling that he had unfinished business — the adult discussion with Batel (as opposed to love that, due to his own fears, hadn’t yet been grounded in the reality of the episode).

Second, the episode has the hero moment of Erica figuring out that she flies the ship. Okay, putting aside that other people can and do fly the ship (ahem, Una), this was an incredible opportunity for Erica to have a totem to remind her of why she cares about flying, not just that she does it. Give us a goddamn model airplane or a book about birds or an action figure of Erika Hernandez — something. Anything. Let us get to know Erica better. This missed opportunity stings.

Third, the trauma repetition was painful. The guy on the planet lost his whole family? Dude, he’s the three-way pointing Spider-Man meme with two members of the away team — M’Benga and La’an. What are the odds of all three of them having the same trauma (and not discussing it)? I don’t know, but it was lazy as shit. (Note: Uhura has the same trauma. Una might, per her service record. Enough already.) Make that guy the former king and he’s somehow responsible for the memory loss rock landing and plaguing the planet. Make him a doctor who saved Zac’s life and therefore plunged the planet into tyrannical rule. Again — something. Anything. Just make it unique instead of repetitive. (And if he had saved Zac’s life by some extreme means, that could even possibly excuse Pike for breaking the essential promise of Starfleet by leaving a crewmember behind.)

There’s more. There’s so much more. There should have been a line, at least, about Una being affected by the radiation when her body could clear radiation before. There should have been recognition that Pike was going down to the planet underprepared — again — by cutting the number of people on the away team. There should have been console warnings flashing that, I don’t know, the warp core was in danger since no one in engineering knew who they were or how to do their jobs.

This episode began the season’s beats of Pike being a crummy captain and a crummy boyfriend. It continued the trend of underutilizing Erica, even when she’s there. It forgot the show’s own internal realities. And I am big mad about that because this clutch point of an episode could have been different. It could have been better.

[gay-jesus-probably]

You're so right about the racist and imperialist bullshit, and something tragic to me is that this does not feel in the slightest like Zelda. In BOTW at LEAST, she's shown to actually be very smart, and while it's understandable (although not excusable) that she would have this worldview due to being raised thinking Hyrule is always right, it just really feels like she should be examining this more closely and seeing problems with it. But Nintendo won't do that, in no small part because they're cowards.

I would talk in detail about how mad I am at how they portray Ganondorf and the Gerudo, but I will spare you the 50 page essay

NO COME BACK I WANT THE ESSAY

Okay but in all seriousness though, idk, I do sort of feel like this is still fairly in character for this Zelda. I found BOTW (and Age of Calamity) characterized her as someone who is very... I don't know, traditional? To an aggressive degree, even when that adherence to tradition is actively hurting her. I mean, the closest she ever comes to actually trying to defy her fate is when she gets mad at a rock that one time. Which comes at the end of her having spent about 60% of her entire life standing in ponds and praying at said rocks in the hope that maybe this time it'll work out, because that's what she's supposed to be doing. It's canonically mentioned somewhere she almost killed herself accidentally as a kid, because she refused to get out of the damn prayer pond until she collapsed from hypothermia. Like yeah, it's fucked up that she was expected to do that... but she never thought there was anything wrong with her having to do that. She just figured she was the problem for not getting the magic at the right time.

And the narrative backs her up on this, because once she has her divine powers, BAM, all her problems are solved. She's a calm, confident leader who knows exactly what to do in every possible situation, no matter what. BOTW Zelda is an extremely passive character tbh; she seems very determined to be exactly the person she is expected to be, and she's not remotely interested in actually examining if those expectations are correct.

(though in regards to her being smart they did kinda do her dirty in TOTK; why the hell did Mineru need to fix the knockoff sheikah slate for her. zelda canonically is interested in sheikah tech. why tf does an ancient person that's never even seen a sheikah slate before need to repair it for her, NINTENDO EXPLAIN)

Anyways, and in regards to her morals... I gotta say, while she was at the point of being able to do the hard work to self examine and walk it back, BOTW Zelda definitely read as a possible baby nationalist to me. I mean, let's be real here, she is incredibly priviledged; she's the future ruler of the damn kingdom by Divine Right, and has spent her entire life being told that. And at the same time, she has really low self esteem... and no inclination to try and change the situation that's ruining her self worth. Which is how you get that one memory of Zelda using her privilege to abuse her indentured servant (indentured, because let's be real here, Link does not have the option to just quit his miserable job), knowingly tries to get him in trouble (if she runs off alone and gets hurt, it's Link's fault for losing her in the first place), and is disturbingly cool with dehumanizing him for being stuck doing his job ("It seems I'm the only one with a mind of my own around here"). And she uses her station to publicly humiliate him at one point, because that ceremony at the sacred ground was fucking painful to watch, and let's be honest here... there's no way in hell it was only the four champions attending this apparently really important ceremony; there was totally a crowd that was cut to avoid having to model all that shit.

Not that she was actively trying to humiliate him, but like... she's the one with all the power in this relationship. Link is a knight of the kingdom, and she's the soon to be Queen. Link is going through all those memories well aware that Zelda can and possibly will destroy his entire life the second she gets the chance. My point is, Zelda is extremely privileged, and it's her responsibility to understand that and be careful not to abuse her power. But the game never even suggests that she notices or cares about it. I mean fuck, even after she stops actively abusing Link, I still don't think she treats him very well. I mean for fucks sake, that one memory with the frog is really upsetting to me - she's certain her and Link and friends and everything is fine, but the power dynamics have not changed. She's still got him at a massive disadvantage, but she doesn't even hesitate to demand that he eat a live frog on the spot so she can see what happens. I liked to think that she was actually trying to make amends with Link for her mistreatment of him, but the game never really shows proof of her trying beyond the most shallow gestures possible (really? you gave him some food, and that makes up for abusing your indentured servant? that's the whole process?).

And all things considered, in TOTK, I... do not see any evidence of her having gotten better. She's just gotten worse, and I can see that as being a trauma reaction; she's basically lost everything, and now she needs to rule a kingdom after a century holding back an apocalypse. I understand why she wouldn't be in a place for self growth after that. But the unfortunate fact of life is that trauma and terrible situations can bring out the absolute worst in people - not to bring real politics into this, but after WW1 Germany was absolutely ruined, as the winners of the war imposed some completely impossible demands on them. People were starving and desperate, and that drove the country into fascism. So that's how we get TOTK Zelda - someone who is absolutely certain that divine forces make her the single most important person in the room at any given moment, Hyrule is a perfect and superior kingdom that can do no wrong, and anyone who disagrees is pure evil and must be destroyed. As for her treatment of Link... I honestly don't see it improving much. She still treats him as more of an object than a person, at least as far as I've seen - the last she saw of him, he'd suffered a horrible and traumatic injury, and yet she just takes it as a fact that he will be perfectly able and willing to take up her fight in the future; what else could he possibly be doing if not serving Zelda? That's his only purpose in life, of course he'll still be willing to do exactly as she orders.

Also jesus christ, the cult of personality built up around Zelda in game... there's so many red flags there. Despite all the genuinely monstorous shit that the fake Zelda pulls, nobody even considers being mad at her for it, even when they're still certain she's the real deal. She's the Divine Princess, of course she can torture and brainwash her subjects without consequences if she wants to, and her victims will still love her for it because they're certain they deserved it. No matter how dark things get, nobody even gets annoyed with 'Zelda' for hurting them. They're just scared that they've done something wrong to upset her, and worried they might not be able to serve her well enough.

(Can you tell the whole thing with Yunobo and the Fire Temple pissed me off, because that was infuriating)

It's good if a ruler is loved and respected by their people of course, but the level of blind devotion she's encouraged is... worrying. Of course, that's only there because the writers love Zelda and can't have let anyone question their precious favourite character, but I'm looking at this from a Watsonian perspective, and that perspective makes for a very disturbing picture. A good leader wants their people to feel safe contradicting them and asking questions. But instead we have people putting so much blind faith in her, they're completely willing to strip naked and walk into monster dens without weapons, because they think that was her orders, and they would never question Princess Zelda. And in universe, a group of researchers being ready to commit suicide on her orders is framed as being a touching sign of their devotion to her. If she was actually a good leader, then she would be horrified that her research team almost killed themselves over misheard orders; but Penn happily comments about how great it is that people would slit their own throats for her amusement, and Link never tries to correct him, suggesting that yeah, she actually does want her people to be willing to kill themselves at her command. Or at least Link finds that completely believable and in character for her.

And at the very least, things like that show that she's not interested in building an environment of equal communication and responsibility. Zelda is rebuilding a Hyrule where the royal family is the ultimate authority, and people should be willing to die before they even consider questioning her orders. So of course Ganondorf is pure evil and must be destroyed - he had to be asked repeatedly before he would kneel before the Hylian throne. Doesn't he know he's an outsider, and therefor inferior to the Divine Royalty? He refuses to accept that his race is inherently lesser to the Hylians, so he must be evil.

I mean, that in of itself is a pretty interesting story; the Hyrule established in TOTK is dark, and the entire culture is genuinely horrifying. This setting is extremely bleak, and I'd be interested if we could actually explore the implications of Link being expected to uphold this dystopian nightmare, and slowly turning against Zelda as he realizes how she truly sees the world.

But that's a nuanced and interesting story, so that's never going to happen; instead we just get this absolute shitshow of a plot, and like 75% of the fandom firmly ignores the racism and imperialism, because what kind of madman would actually want to be immersed in the story and worldbuilding of a role-playing game.

[seth-shitposts]

"Next time they make a move, we'll be waiting for them to snuff out that spark before it catches fire."

-Kallus [s1e1]

-

"I never asked questions."

"Well maybe you should start. Or are you afraid of the answers you'll get?"

-Kallus & Zeb [s2e17]

-

"You have the heart of a rebel."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

-Thrawn & Kallus [s3e21]

-

"You disgust me, traitor."

"The day I betrayed your empire, Governor, is the day I finally stopped betraying myself."

-Pryce & Kallus [s4e15]

---

Alex: I'm dumping a theory essay / speculative thoughts here, and I am solely pulling from my memory which isn't always 100% accurate, but here's some of my thoughts on aspects of Alexsandr Kallus’s core character. (This is just what I think, of course, don't take it as facts. I'm literally just dumping words. And parts of this is strongly headcanon, as we dont have much canonically for his backstory.)

I believe that Kallus has always had "the heart of a rebel".

I believe that he's always had a strong sense of justice and values. Or maybe one that he built from scrap himself and with the resources available to him. (And, of course, just because one has a strong sense of justice, does not make that person automatically correct.)

He himself has said and believed [back before he searched for answers and became disillusioned from the empire] that the empire brought about justice and order to the galaxy. That's what he believed he had been supporting, it's what he was placing his loyalty into.

I feel that Kallus may have always had a twinge here or there, a feeling that something was off or a seed of doubt. But it was always just small and it would have been easier to push it aside and let himself believe that somethings cannot be helped, that sometimes the ends justify the means. This is what he would have been taught in his IBS training, given the nature of his job.

If Kallus was indeed from the lower levels, then he would have been witness to not only disorder and wrong doings on a daily basis, but also higher levels of violence as well. So when the empire did recruitments with promises of what would have allured the citizens of the lower levels to join the academy, it would have been in character for Kallus to have joined at the chance to bring change for the better to the galaxy, to places similar to where he came from.

And the contrast between the lower levels and the academy would have been a huge culture shock, one that would have taken some getting used to. So he probably started right off the bat with observing, trying to figure it out. And then there would be minor things here and there that he may have felt somewhere was off. Maybe he even questioned it, but would immediately shut the train of thought down if it were even implied that he was being disloyal or didn't have faith in the system.

And even of it felt wrong to him to do some of these things, that it was causing internal conflict, he would snuff out the doubt, extinguish the questions, because there was a goal that needed to be met. Even if he found something distasteful, he would ignore it until eventually he didn't feel that recoil anymore. Because he believed that the empire was right, that if he tried hard enough, he would accomplish what he had set out to do. And over time, he snuffed out that spark. And the fact that he had lost those who were close to him, all in one fell swoop on what was supposed to be just a routine mission probably made it easier to dedicate himself to a system that made promises of justice and order. So he probably really should stop questioning things, it would've been in his best interest.

Over the years, it would have been a slow progression of the Empire's tactics becoming more and more extreme, just enough small changes building up so that it would have seemed that increasing the iron grip was the best course of action. It produced the best results, the Empire would have become more powerful, and therefore allowed the empire to expand its reach even further and cover more ground. Stopping rebellions at the roots, ending a small spark before it has the chance to burn down a house. And maybe in this twisted perception, Kallus would have thought that the way to make sure another massacre like what happened on Lasan didn't happen again would've been to do this. To snuff our sparks before they become so big that the Empire's only response is to end the whole situation through brute force and overpowering numbers. There was most probably a part of Kallus that knew something about what had happened to Lasan was wrong, but he chose to override that and continue on the mission.

Despite how hard he had been throwing himself into walls to capture the ghost crew and to "finish what he started" there was still that something there, as it would have brought him to feel the need to say something about it to Zeb on the moon. About how it wasn't supposed to be a massacre, but he realized the empire wanted to make an example. Part of him would have had to of known that it was wring on some level, but he still chose to snuff out the doubt. Because the doubt would only lead to the need to ask questions and asking questions would only lead to being accused of disloyalty and doubt in the entire empire itself.

But then came the point in Legends of the Lasat when Kallus had to face the realization that no matter what he did, he wasn't going to catch the rebels, he wasn't going to catch the ghost crew. He had been chasing this group for well over a year at this point and every time they still managed to evade capture, to escape, to survive, to live. They will only ever remain out of reach, even when he throws caution to the wind. In that moment, something deep in him knows that it's not going to happen. It doesn't stop him from trying again, but there's that little seed that remains.

And then Zeb tells Kallus that maybe he should ask questions. Or is he afraid that he'll find the answers and not like the harsh truth? To have to face the fact that for nearly two decades he had been devoting himself to a system that has only been oppressing the galaxy, that he had been betraying his own morals and values for false promises.

Zeb saying that to Kallus would have dragged back every bit of doubt, every question buried alive. It re-lit a spark. So Kallus took the borrowed courage, because stars knows that he had been too much of a coward to do it himself up to this point, and chased down some answers. And those answers we his worst fears confirmed, that he had betrayed the fibers of his own being and committed terrible acts for lies. And rather than run or slip into despair, Kallus immediately took to following what he thinks is right. The best way to help others is to do what he can to help the rebellion.

And he doesn't change allegiances for anyone but himself. Because it's what he believes to be the right thing to do, and it is. Finally having forced himself to swallow his pride he looked to the whole truth for what it was. And even though he may not have liked what he saw, he still had to face it and do the next right thing.

And even though there was the pain and guilt of the fact that he had done what he did, there may have also been this sense of relief. While it was still suffocating to have learned the truth, there was a part of him that was finally allowed to breathe again. A part of him that came back full force.

[datastate]

nno chapters 6!!! fuuma thangs... much speculation

first off, the assistant nurse is really cute :] i like her little shuriken pin... secondly! i know this might just be another signal of miharu's reluctance to let others care for him openly, but also. but also. the fact he almost immediately turns around once she says she's done to see how tobari is doing. they're killing me. badly.

also i do wonder if his eyesight will be permanently affected... there is the implication of the sort of. 'power level' also helping regeneration, but it'd be interesting to see what they do with this if it stays...

HE'S SO CRINGEEE... also this is probably just me reading into things, but also. but also. the majority of the people here at least Appear to be relatively young, yes... combined with this next part --

would it be especially sickly if i said that i think that miharu's (and tobari's...?!) mother, at least, was originally part of this clan... it would also explain how miharu still ended up fairly close-by after they'd fled. as well as imply the reason behind possible previous losses they suffered that resulted in this fool^ (said lightheartedly) coming to be the leader so early. or maybe he IS just a nepo baby that inherited the role/power passed down to him to succeed the clan. who knows...!

that does remind me though, while i was searching for the site again after having lost it, i had reread the starting chapter a bit, and i find it interesting that yoite's the first one to react...

it's presumably a matter of how in-tune you are with the knowledge of the world in the first place, to initiate any sort of connection with what exists as the 'source' -- that being miharu. you could argue that the main three in those panels represent. yoite very clearly specializing in one of the most dangerous hijutsu(?) methods even if all else is lacking; raimei preferring to take a very physical and practical approach to the world (as a self-proclaimed samurai); mr. freak (i forgot his name) instead being someone very socially involved, well aware of how to motivate & manipulate people, i'd assume... i do not know the ones in the fourth panel though...

but anyway. the dialogue in hindsight it also makes me wonder if this is the first time miharu's power has awoken or if it's only reawoken -- because if it's the first, then my idea of like. the memories also being trapped with that sort of crumbles. or there's the whole question to be asked of what exactly is the inciting incident for it to awaken at all, because it doesn't seem like miharu's in extreme danger by the moment it's already recognized in him...? or maybe this whole thing is just meant to be a symbolic & vaguely threatening opening. who knows...

too silly <3 i do appreciate her determination though :'] she forced herself to bounce back so quickly... she's given this chance to pick herself up again, all she can do is make sure it counts...!! she's not dead yet! this is her second/third/etc chance!

i don't have much to say here, actually... this is just a really good panel & does a good job of getting across how intimidating a force yoite is...

i sincerely hope she steals his maidens. fuuma clan becomes saraba's clan, okay? i'd be okay with a sudden genre change for her sapphic harem. (THIS IS A JOKE. I'M VERY INVESTED IN THE MAIN PLOT AS IS AEGAHA)

NO FURTHER COMMENTARY.

HE'S SO WEIRD!!! but it is a very fair point in how miharu's directionless helps

oh god okay. i had a thought. you know how in mob psycho, shigeo had suppressed himself to the point he didn't even know what he wanted anymore, and so his 'self' upon returning full-force had completely focused in on this singular want. i'm sure nno has its own flair if this is correct (though i am just throwing ideas at the wall), but in this general regard, do you think if miharu's centered his past on the idea that he wants things to "go back to normal/peaceful times" after the whole. oh, you know, your parents are dead... that that's what he's strived for since, but slowly what he had suppressed is coming back to search out what he would do that can't simply be achieved with typical human experience, despite that being juxtaposed against the fact that it's because he's not a typical human that he longs so heavily for that. usually, humans want the unachievable and take pride in their passions/specialties -- someone who already possesses what would qualify them a 'prodigy' finds no novelty in it, regardless of what sort of attention it catches from other people, if it doesn't match their passion. there's a sort of envy inherent to both because of the how the experiences impose something limited. and in many cases, once you breach a certain line then you also abandon the life you could've had.

I DON'T KNOW... I'M PROBABLY WAY OFF THE MARK BUT. GRAHHH... i wanna knowww...

THIS GUY.

MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY. even though i also want to know what tobari is hiding, THIS IS NOT THE TIME...!!! (i am excited though to see. if complications do arise ^_^ <- the sicko)

AHEEM HEEM... oh you had it so well in the first half. rather than acknowledge what miharu's offering forth - "would you want something" - where the only answer is that inevitable "yes" or, kinder than a lie, some sort of "i don't know" ... instead focusing it on miharu's objective, or... desire (which is. the one thing he's not allowed at this point). their wants don't matter right now, they want to know what miharu wants to do first and foremost... sniffle.

but then there's that slip-up... not that it can be helped, because you Want to assuage the doubts, but it just makes it so much more difficult. man... they're all stuck in such a terrible situation right now TT_TT it's so fun to read though...