#full hybrid

[martinroyhall]

News: SUMMER NEWS FROM SUZUKI

0% Finance offers on all S-Cross models. Two years free servicing across the full Suzuki Hybrid passenger car range. Just putting this latest news from MotorMartin’s friends at Suzuki out in full: Suzuki is one of very few brands that offers Hybrid technology as standard across its passenger vehicle range together with high standard specification and all the tech you need. With Suzuki there is…

[bluegiragi]

cockatrice (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[sparrowlucero]

this is the iconic dinosaur horror jurassic park wishes it was

[chip-the-dip]

Tango redesign

[teddybeartoji]

my last little thirst for you mickey <3

wolf! toji, that hunts down pretty little bunny! reader because he got the smallest whiff of your sweet scent and needed to track you down.

when he finally catches up to you, he pins you down into the forest ground, finally getting a chance to truly take in thay saccharine scent that he'sbeen practically fiending over. (he could've easily caught you in just a few minutes, but he can he say? he enjoys the hunt)

next thing you know- wolf! toji is biting into your nape while rapidly pounding into you, wanting to knot you, pump you full of his pups, and claim you as his own.

he still isn't finished, even after wolf! toji made sure that you were filled to the brim with his seed. He steadied himself over your pliant body and sprayed all over you, making sure every inch of your worn-out body was covered in his piss.

Now you were his- inside and out <3

OH WOLF!TOJI LOVES CHASING YOU DOWN SOOOO MUCH. IT GETS HIM GOING SO FUCKING FAST GRAY HOOLY FUCKING SHIT.

he's not even running or anything at first... he knows he's gonna catch you, he has your scent and he won't lose it; he let's you run and run, he's letting you tire yourself out. he loves seeing all riled up and panting, your eyes twitching ever-so-lightly when he finally finds you.

he loves to get you dirty, he loves to push you into the ground. he likes to see the smallest little scratches and the smallest little bruises that form under his rough hands. he licks at your neck with a mean grin as you shiver in his hold, and he loves to listen to your racing heartbeat. it's all just so, so much. it feels so fucking good.

he's gonna pump you full and he won't let you waste a drip of it. he's gonna plug you with his thick knot and he's gonna hold you to his chest as he does so. he takes in all of the sharp breaths and the little mewls that keep slipping from his tiny bunny. he hisses at the tightness, but he doesn't allow himself to get too distracted. he toys with your nipples and gently nips at your ear, determined to make you cum on his knot aswell.

you're so fucked out, eyes hidden in the back of your head and your tongue lolling out - he loves it. so fucking much. he loves the mess of it all. your slick is running down his heavy balls and your saliva trickles down your own chin. he presses a haste, sloppy kiss to your temple as he works you through your third orgasm.

"nasty little bunny, hm?"

[oliviarampaige]

“Claire de lune”

Day 16 - Moon

Into the endless night.

[under-cotton-and-calicos]

Imagine you’ve entered the biggest, most anticipated annual livestock show as a cow hybrid.

You’ve been prepping for this event for months, sticking to a strict nutritious diet, grooming yourself and training to produce the sweetest, most decadent milk in large quantities.

The day arrives, and after the judging, you’re crowned with first place!

It’s an honour- you’re given a huge check and a beautiful ribbon. But that’s not the biggest incentive for winning first place. On the main stage, you’re secured to a fence, a solid and thick slab of wood with a hole in the middle of it. You slip into the hole, your swollen and leaking breasts on one side and your behind on the other. Your arms are bound to your back, and your legs tied to the fence so your cunt, wet and hungry, is open for easy access. It’s not the comfiest position, but you understand the need for it. It wouldn’t be good if you were bucking here and there during the process after all.

You can hear one of the judges speaking on the mic, after some talk about prices and queue numbers, there’s a crowd of eager farmers and cow hybrids who want a taste of your milk. You’re shifting in anticipation, nipples already leaking a few precious drops. The participants take turns latching onto you, toying your sensitive nipples in their mouths and tugging on them with their teeth so that your milk gets squirted into their mouth. They tell you it’s some of the best that they’ve ever tasted, and you blush so prettily at all their compliments.

Soon after, you can feel something nudging at your rump. There’s another line of studs behind you who have gone through their own judging to determine whether they’ll be fit to breed you. Their strong, beautiful bodies means that they’re well-endowed, and you can feel it as the first one struggles to rut his cock into you. You can hear a chuckle behind you as your tail swishes in excitement. Hurry, hurry, hurry-

There’s a loud groan as his meaty cock fills you up. It feels fantastic, having your nipples be suckled on as you’re bred thoroughly with such virile seed. Every time one’s finished spilling its semen inside of you, as deep as possible so that theirs is the one that takes, another eager bull takes his place. You’re at the peak of your fertility, so you’re sure that your belly is gonna swell with child in a few weeks, and the thought sends even more milk streaming from your nipples. 

You’re not even done yet, but you can’t wait to participate in next year’s show.

[ramvibess]

fullbody comm for Monstruo on Amino!!

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - IX

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics gif from pinterest, wick art from pinterest, prtty sure its AI, OPs unknown lemme kno

9. and be saved

You are left starstruck and gaping, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, when Constantine finally pulls back from the absolute claiming of your mouth, his dark gaze boring into you like he either wants to fuck you, or strangle you. 

Maybe both, considering. 

“After all this, that’s what you think?” he snarls. 

A low growl reminds you both of the danger not far enough away. “And why wouldn’t she, after the way you’ve treated her, you stupid boy?” snarls Wick, his accent thickening in his anger. “Stop touching her.”

You jab a finger in the dhampir’s direction, putting yourself between them again. “This doesn’t mean you own me, buster, don’t get comfortable.” 

The dhampir grumbles deep in his chest at this, glaring blue daggers at Constantine, but he stops his stalking advance. He seems to have enough self-control to weigh the consequences of breaking his promise not to hurt the man you obviously care about (for whatever reason he cannot understand), over the rewards of the deal you made. If he is patient, he will get what he wants. That should concern you, but at the moment you have one thing on your mind. You dare to turn back to your first beau, far from happy. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap. 

“I told you that I like you!” 

“Are we in third grade?”

“It sure fucking feels like it!” he snarls, then starts coughing uncontrollably; horrible, racking hacks that convulse his whole body. 

You see the flash of blood on his sleeve. He is literally coughing up his lungs, and your heart breaks all over again. You try to help brace him, and he tries to hold you away. Finally fed up with his nonsense, you use your superior strength to best him, supporting him while trying to send energy to him through the bond to soothe him. 

Naturally, you find that goddammed brick wall erected between you again. You are so frustrated this time that you pound a metaphysical fist against it. At last it gives, and you push all that wonderful strength you went out in the first place to collect down the line to John. Life, for lack of a better word, and he closes his eyes as it washes through him, leaning on you heavily. 

It almost feels too good, and his relief naturally mixes with his native suspicion. He realizes he doesn’t actually remember what it feels like, to experience even the vaguest semblance of true health.   

“Shit,” he rasps, leaning against you, his face buried in your hair. 

You know they say that still waters run deep, but you still don’t understand the point of him hiding from you. Maybe there is no good reason, and maybe you’ll never truly understand. Even with your arms full of Constantine, you remain painfully aware of the lurking dhampir watching you, too close for comfort. 

What have you done?

When you draw back to look at John, the only word you can think to describe his expression is agony. In turn, you somehow feel relieved and wretched and angry, all at once. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper desperately. “Why couldn't you just tell me?”

“I did,” he answers, and maybe he thinks that's true, but he'd practically spoken in code and it's not your fault that you didn't understand. 

You should just tell him your side too, you reason. You've wasted so much time, and he's dying, and did you really hold back just because you were afraid he would laugh at you? You open your mouth, intending to get it out no matter what the cost, when Wick interrupts coldly, “This is very touching. But I didn’t come here to watch you two canoodle.” 

“I don’t give a fu—” 

You cut Constantine off before he can enrage the dhampir again. “He came here to help us,” you insist. “Come upstairs.”

“This asshole only knows how to help himself,” grouses the man in your arms, and you know he is glaring at Wick over your head. “I don’t trust him.” 

“Fine. Come talk to the vampire he brought us, then we can kick him out.” 

Wick snorts at that. “He can try.”

“You promised me,” you dare to remind the vampire hunter, even if there is a quaver in your voice. 

“As you promised me,” Wick counters right back, offering a mocking little bow with his hand over his heart and a heat in his eyes that involuntarily curls your toes.

Dear God. What have you gotten yourself into?

Constatine’s grip on your hip tightens to the point of bruising, had you still been human. You can hear him grinding his teeth, and you have to stop yourself from laughing or crying with exasperation. This man. Maybe you do have a screw loose. You should kick him in the balls for the way he’d treated you, but all you really want to do is wrap him up in your arms, and cloister yourselves away from the world for a very long time. 

Unfortunately, time is not something you have right now.

♰♰♰

Does the Geneva Convention apply to vampires? 

You're sure what Wick did to the vamp he’d captured is at least immoral, if not downright illegal. And yet, you know this sycophant of don Juan’s was no innocent. You find it hard to feel sorry for him.

It doesn’t take much persuasion to get the injured vamp to spill the beans. He’s already scared shitless of Wick, and adding Constantine only makes him talk faster in hope of some mercy. You doubt he’s going to get it, or maybe but only in the form of a quick death. 

He tells you all that don Juan has had a bone to pick with the High Table for years. Squabbles over power, jurisdiction, and of course, money, resenting the steep tithe he’s had to pay as a matter of course. He formulated a plan to overthrow them, by somehow involving the Son of Satan to wipe the slate clean with a new reign of Hell on Earth. With the exception, of course, that Juan continues to rule in L.A.

Constantine keeps shaking his head in disbelief, now seated at the head of the kitchen table. Wick has taken the seat at the opposite end, and you lean with your arms crossed against the sink, lowkey ready to intervene if they go after each other again. Maybe you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you sense the peace between them is tenuous at best no matter what Wick promised you.  

“It’s like going after a roach problem in your house with a nuclear bomb,” gripes Constantine. “What the fuck is he thinking?”

Wick shrugs. “I will kill him. You kill the demons. Problem solved.”

Constantine snorts at that. “Yeah. Easy peasy.”

“Is it not?”

“It never is with these assholes. When I deport them they return to their realm, but they don’t die. They could just keep trying, unless we really figure out what they're up to.”

“How do we do that?”

John lights a cigarette, ignoring you as you glare at him, the big idiot. He blows a cloud of smoke into the air, staring at the cracked plaster of the ceiling like it holds the answer key. 

“I gotta use the chair.”

“At Midnite’s?” 

You have no idea what John’s talking about, but Wick seems to. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you use it to find where Juan’s hiding? He’s gone to ground like the rat he is. It would save me time.” 

“Maybe. It’s…unpredictable.” 

“I might be able to find him,” you admit reluctantly, staring down at your bare feet. 

Both pairs of dark eyes turn towards you. “How?” they echo each other, almost eerily similar in that moment. 

“The last time you fed me…” you say to John, your cheeks warming with the memory. “Afterwards, I kind of…surfed around the city, while you slept. In my head, I mean. But not…” 

Wick is impressed by this, an eyebrow lifting, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly. John, however, gives you a hard look. “You just…went frolicking around on the astral plane, huh? Do you know how dangerous that can be?”

You laugh, for once more amused than miffed by John’s irritation with you. It helps, that now you’re starting to suspect it comes from a place of caring, rather than contempt. Not that you can tell through the bond now. He’s re-built his walls between you, twice as high and twice as thick as they were before. You know he has more experience with this psychic stuff than you do, but it seems unfair. 

“Well, I did it, and I found Juan. He felt it too. He hit me with something. It woke you up.”

“Yeah. I remember that.” 

You shrug. “I could probably do it again.”

John ashes his cigarette with a flick into an overflowing dish, staring at the reflection in the green glass. “It took a little more than blood to invoke power like that.” Your ears feel like they’re on fire, and how ridiculous is it, that even undead you still can blush?

You dare to meet his eyes, and find a matching warmth therein. It’s his only tell.

“I can give you blood, malyshka,” offers Wick, breaking the heavy silence in the kitchen. “And whatever else you need.” You hate it, that just the thought makes a spear of warmth shoot straight to your loins. 

Constantine narrows his eyes at the vampire hunter, pointing with the smoldering cigarette. “You can keep your cursed blood to yourself, dhampir.”    

“I am not cursed.” 

“No, but you’re a helluva traitor.” 

“Pot, kettle, wizard boy. You think you’re the only one with a bone to pick with God?” 

“Yeah, but you don’t see me skipping off to work for the other side because of it.” 

“The other side,” Wick scoffs. “Two sides, same coin, Constantine.” 

John snorts in answer. “Not exactly.” 

“Oh? Was it not God who gave you this gift you resent so? Was it not God’s priests who fed my pregnant mother to a hungry vampire to create me, God’s weapon against the darkness? My poor mother died in agony after my birth. The priests called her suffering God’s will. That’s what they said when my Yelena and my little Irinushka died too. I finally told them all to go to Hell.”

“So now you get your revenge on God by working for the Underworld?”

“I was made to kill vampires. So it is what I do.” 

Constantine barks with bitter laughter. “This is what you’re getting with this guy, y/n. He doesn't kill vampires to help people. He does it to scare the other vamps into line, so they don’t defy the High Table, and so the most powerful among them can go on exploiting human kind with ease. Trafficking, drugs, you name it, they’ve got their dirty fingers in it. When you said you would rob a drug cartel? He’s the one they would send after you for it.” 

It’s not like you thought Wick was a good man, but for some reason hearing all this hurts your heart. Shocked, you turn to Wick. “Is this true?” you ask hushedly. 

He actually looks regretful, not meeting your eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I made a bargain, a long time ago. It is the only thing that matters to me now. I must honor it.”

You’re not sure why hearing all this has made you feel sick. You don’t really get stomach upset anymore, but you do not feel well. 

“Milaya…” says Wick pleadingly, willing you to look at him. 

But you just shake your head, staring at the floor. Maybe deep down, there was a part of you that thought maybe, maybe, you wouldn’t have to be so completely alone as the long years went by. But now you know this was a very stupid thought indeed. 

“Ask me,” prompts Wick quietly. “Ask me what the bargain was for.” 

“She doesn’t care,” says Constantine, at the same time you ask: 

“What was it for?” 

Ignoring John, his dark eyes bore into you. “I made a deal with a powerful witch of the High Table, that I would serve until the day I found my Yelena again. I was told that if I waited long enough, someday she would be reborn to me.”

You don’t know why you feel dizzy in that moment, like the floor of the whole world has dropped out from under you. You close your eyes against it, screwing them shut tight as your fingers–claws–dig into the countertop behind you. 

This man has done terrible things–for centuries, it sounds like. But he did them for love. Does that excuse them? No. Does it soften you to him? You hate to admit it, but the truth is…a little. 

You entertain the possibility for a second–you only allow yourself a second–that maybe you are this woman the dhampir thinks you are. A reincarnated soul, searching for her long lost mate, like in the deliciously trashy romances you love to read. Shouldn’t you have some sort of past life memories or dreams? Isn’t that how it always goes in the stories?

You think about how you’ve always felt adrift in this life. Not really interested or committed to anything. How it’s all always seemed kind of silly to you, meaningless even, and the only thing you’ve ever been certain was truly important, was to be kind to others. It’s ironic, maybe, that only after becoming a vampire that you truly gained a sense of purpose in your life, helping those who couldn’t help themselves, and removing evil doers from the population at large. 

You think about how you came to L.A. You practically moved here on a whim, because you were tired and off a bad breakup and you wanted to go somewhere exciting and new. Did fate guide that choice you made for yourself? Was it the unconscious searching for your soul’s true mate? 

If that’s true, then why didn’t you go to New York instead? 

You think about the day you moved into your apartment. Wrestling with your numerous boxes of stuff. Not much, really. Just what you fit into your compact hatchback car, which has since died an inglorious death on the 405. Some jerk had bumped into you on the stairs, nearly making you drop your heavy load of books, only to belatedly steady the box before it spilled, and maybe as an afterthought, you. You remember how you’d looked up, up, up because Jesus he was tall, to find the man now pulling on the addictive smoke that will prove to be his doom. He’d looked down at you with bemused annoyance in those lovely dark eyes. Told you to “Watch it,” and went on his way down the stairs, two at a time on those long legs, clearly in a hurry. 

Rushing off to save the world, or a little precious part of it, you know now. 

You remember how you’d felt like you’d been hit with a frying pan, the first time you saw him. How your heart had seemed to stop then start again, racing doubletime.  

If this was a movie, John Constantine would be your soulmate, the man you were meant to find, the one who fate seemed to be driving you towards. Because since the first time you set eyes on him, you haven’t been able to look away. And if this was a movie…it would be a tragedy, because the man you love is dying, and there is no magic that can truly save him, only delay the inevitable. 

You look between the two men seated at either head of the table. Both formidable, in their own ways, they could have been mistaken for brothers in their appearances. You wish you could deny that you felt a certain something for Wick too. It would be much simpler that way. You don’t really like the idea that things are preordained. You want to believe that you have the power to make choices about life, be they good or bad. But there is something in this dilapidated kitchen, the warm night air whispering through the broken windows, that feels unmistakably like fate. 

“I hope you find her someday,” you tell the dhampir, and you mean it, holding your hands wide in a gesture of peace. “But I don’t really think that I’m the answer you’re looking for.” 

The too-long sleeve of your shirt–John’s shirt–flops as you gesture, and you roll up the sleeve again, feeling more than a little ridiculous despite the looks both men have been paying you. As you crease the fabric up your forearm Wick zeroes in on something peeking out of your sleeve. 

“What is that?” he demands, with way more force than the situation demands. 

You look at him quizzically. “A tattoo?” 

“Let me see.” 

Constantine frowns as he watches this exchange. You feel a little uneasy too, as you pull back the sleeve to reveal the black and white flowers emblazoned on your underarm. “It’s just…something I thought was pretty on the flash wall, when I turned 18.” It had called to you, for whatever reason, on that rebellious expedition with a friend who had also just crossed the threshold into adulthood. Luckily, you still liked it. Lord knows dumber late night decisions had been made in that tattoo parlor in your little town. 

Wick, however, sits back in the chair, laughing to himself like you have told him an inside joke. “Margaritka. What do you call this flower in English?”

“Daisies?” 

Then you remember what he’d said, about the little white flower his late wife had loved to pick near their cabin. 

Oh fuck.

[orangehalfpeeled]

MINISTER OF MINISTERS, REN-DIGGITY-DAWG!!!

[crybaby-bkg]

I know I've talked about bull and bear hybrid Bakugou, but has anyone ever talked about lion hybrid Bakugou???? I thought about this concept when I was still half asleep this morning but like,,,,

lion hybrid bakugou with his big ole head and even bigger mane of hair, all soft, colored like the sand you'd dig your toes into at the beach. he has a little scruff on his chin, but he never grows it out because he hates the upkeep of it.

he's always loud, growly yawns whenever you see him, his canines sharp and pointy when he opens his maw wide enough for you to peek in. he's so big and soft where it matters, lazes around all day everyday, and gets these big bursts of energy at the most random of moments. he's basically an overgrown cat basically

omg and he has this complex where he's just sooo high and mighty, like he's some king meant to be worshipped. but all you have to do is kiss his cheeks and rub a hand through his hair when he lays his big dumb head in your lap, and he's purring up a storm.

and and and lion hybrid bakugou whose tongue can feel so rough when he's feeling lazy about it, but somehow knows how to work it just right whenever he wants to lounge between your legs. gets so huffy and growly when you mumble that you can't cum anymore, just nudges your thighs a little wider with his shoulder as he nuzzles his nose against your mound. doesn't care to hear any of your complaining, because he's still eating and doesn't intend on finishing until he's ready.

omg and and lion hybrid bakugou whose favorite position is, of course, doggy style. but only because he gets to wrap your little dainty neck up in his powerful jaws and pin you there, likes how you whimper and shiver but go limp either way because you trust him with your life. he pins your arms beside your head and grunts so loud into your nape when he finally sinks his cock inside of you. he practically lays flat on top of you, just rutting his hips against your ass over and over until he knots you.

which is his favorite part because you two get to just lay there for what feel like hours, and you keep coming intermitally because he can't help but rut his hips a few more times, and hiss at the way his knot tugs at your clenching lips. sigh just lion hybrid bakugou who looks so mean and intimidating but he just loves you so much and can't get enough of you

[eekonis]

Tommy felt a strange flash of regret as Phil‘s feathers disappeared under the sage-green fabric, but he pushed it away. He‘d spent too long eying them, succumbing to the waves of emotions that came with the sight of those wings. Fear and apprehension, yes, but also suriosity. Envy. And worst of all, hope.

— few mercies for fools by @mathanlin

[fandomsnrambles]

You know, i didnt really realise this until i was reading into it properly but

It says that Garmadon took more risks after the Aspheera incident, not after the venom. Which implies the venom didn’t make him reckless and impulsive which i’d assumed at first tbh, ive seen a lot of posts say it too.

Which kinda implies the venom more likely affects emotions which are already there and probably amplifies them by corrupting said feelings?

I mean, it says here Garmadon became impulsive after the Aspheera incident, where the FSM started talking to them less out of paranoia and probably realising his kids weren’t mature enough to know about certain things.

What if the reason why is that the Aspheera incident and his father’s reaction caused resentment to build up in Garmadon? Then Garmadon started questioning his father and started seeing much less reason to obey his father as well so took risks and broke rules.

Then he got bitten by a snake whose venom caused him to become more impulsive and affected his thoughts and feelings? I say this because of the “It’s all Wu’s fault!” thing he said in the show. In other books, Garmadon goes on to blame himself not Wu, which really shows how he really feels and how he first blamed Wu due to the venom, not because of how he felt.

(Tbh i also feel if Wu was the one who got bit, Garmadon would blame himself the same way Wu did for centuries after. Like “I’m his big brother! Why didn’t I go? Why was I such a coward?”

On another note, sad Wu hours 😔, my boy had to grow up fast because of trauma. To be honest, it’s not uncommon for 7-year olds to test the limits of whats allowed and whats not. Breaking rules is normal kid behaviour to me, it’s just more extreme because Wu and Garmadon are the FSM’s kids (whose basically god in Ninjago.)

I imagine 7-year old Wu didn’t properly understand the consequence or the concept of going onto Serpentine land. Which isn’t illogical, he’s 7 years old. I imagine Garmadon was at least 10 (or maybe Wu was 10 and Garmadon was 13 idk) which means Garmadon being more responsible is more understandable, he knew more than Wu and understood more.

I also still find it so so sad how their roles flipped. Wu was always more curious and explorative which is why he went everywhere. I bet you he was the kid running and throwing himself in mud with his brother screaming at him not too lmao, or even the kid eating random plants as Garmadon tried to stop him. Wu’s curiosity and recklessness is still in him in adulthood, he’s very unhinged if you actually look deeper into him.

[mars-ax]

MARS. POST THE DOODLE OF SCOTT AND CLEO CUDDLING AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

so I don't usually post doodles because I'm very self-conscious about their quality, but just for you harper

So that doodle was actually in a series of other doodles all in the theme of "literal sleeping together" because that's one of my favorite things ever, so I might as well put them all here then

[royalarchivist]

Quackity: There's also a button to toggle, so in case you're talking to people in English, you can toggle it.

Slimecicle: I'm never gonna speak to anyone in English again

[...]

Slimecicle: I feel like a baby that has learned how to speak! Bababa, bababah.

Fit & Maximus: Baba, baba, baba, baba, babah -

Slimecicle: I like that we've gotten a thing to translate all languages, and now we speak none.

[lara635kookie]

What if Sylus is a half Wanderer/any other kind of monstrous creature that escaped from Philo? What if he can't die or only die in a very specific way, so Philo kept him incarcerated instead of just killing him and that's how he became Philo's most wanted criminal? We know 28 years old is his real age, because if it wasn't, it would probably be stated like Xavier's "age unknown, fake age 23" so what if Sylus was a new monster, transformed pretty recently, saw his kind being decimated by Philo for some reason and he is now the only one left and swore revenge on them and that's why he did all he did in his anedoctes stories? What if he's on Earth to mess up with Philo's plan for it? What if whatever Philo wants, Sylus finds it first and tortures them with it until they beg for mercy but at the end doesn't give them because it's also useful to him? What if the thing in his eyes is not an aether core but something else that is similar? Because when MC directly asks if he has an aether core in his eyes and that's why he can do that glowy thingy he says:"you could say that" which to me sounded like one of those vague ass answers that neither confirms or denies shit. So what if there's only one aether core in the world? Even BETTER, it's probably MC's Aether Core that Philo and now Sylus wants, so what if Sylus realizes he can't have the aether core and MC and to have one the other has to go? What if he had to choose between having the aether core with its power full on the palm of his hands to fulfill his complete revenge on Philo and maybe some other personal goals or MC's life because you can't freaking have both? I remember I said a while ago that Sylus doesn't have trauma, he is the one that causes trauma. So what if I was fucking wrong? What if I can handle MORE angst? What if I want Sylus to give it to me just like the others have been doing? What if all of it happens? What of any of this never happens? So many questions, no answers at all