#i can't play them all but i love to read them and think about them and stuff

[void-speaks]

🌧"Hm, we don't really have those kind of luxuries nor the necessity for them, so I just dive head in even if its pouring. I do enjoy rain quite a lot. It's refreshing."

🍳"Well, I'm not exactly the best, but I do know how to make the most basic of things. Sigh, I do wish I had the chance to learn how to cook something more cool and interesting, but oh well. Oh, surprisingly enough, I do. I used to hate any and all kind of chores before, but now it's just something you can shut off your mind for and do on autopilot. Mmm, probabaly omelets. No particular reasons, I just think it's neat."

🧼"It's not like we get much of a choice. In this economy, we shower whenever we can. I do enjoy showering, but I haven't gotten many chances to bathe before, so I can't really tell anything. Again, it's a miracle if we find gel in this situation."

❌️"Obviously I would. It does depend on who is telling me what, but just in general, I would. Hmm... Probabaly Crane. He's seen some shit and has a good base of knowledge about the world, more than me and Aiden have."

🏳️‍"Well, it's hard to say right now. I can't really imagine anything that would make me give up, but there's probabaly something. Like, maybe if I was in complete despair? I don't know, hard to say."

📖"Gosh, don't even get me started on books! I really, really love books. I've always loved reading books even as a child. I mostly favored fantasy and detective novels and sometimes romance I suppose. Queer romance specifically because. Well. Guess. I wouldn't say I have a lot of opportunities to read in that sense that new books that I haven't read are a rare thing to find right now."

⛸️"I'm not... too into sports, to be fair. Would parkour count as a sport? Probabaly not right now. Hm... I guess Carnage Hall fights would be considered a sport? In that case, I don't really follow that stuff at all."

😷"I have an average immune system, so I don't get sick too much. Well, 'staying at home' right now isn't exactly an option, however, when I get sick, I tend to not overwhelm myself with chores, but don't stay in bed all day either. Well, medical masks are surprisingly hard to find, and just regular clothing pieces won't do much, so I tend to stay away from people or be very careful around them."

🥼"No, I don't. Hm, what kind of uniform... To be fair, and don't quote me on this, but Renegade uniform looks sick as Hell."

🥂"Huh, I never really thought about it. I guess I just pat myself on the back or don't really acknowledge them at all."

🛴"Parkour. It's probabaly impossible to get around on a bike in this environment, but it would be nice if I could. Traffic rules aren't really a thing right now, so eh."

🕰"Hm... Now that I think about it, we don't do that too much? Or I suppose we just use the sun as our guide most of the time. Or Peacekeeper sirens or church bells if it's in Old Villedor."

🥰"There's many things that can make me... Well, not happy, but bring some kind of positive feelings for sure. As for loved... I don't know how to answer that."

🐇"I don't. I prefer to live in the now and here. Believing in this kind of thing would be an escapism method for me, and I prefer not to do that."

🎺"I'm getting tired of saying it, but there's not much choice we have nowadays. I'm starting to sound like my grandma... I think. But, if I had to chose from all the songs I know, my current choice would be that tape that Aiden showed me recently. I don't know its name, but it goes like... 'Some people cheat, some people sin, but ohhhhh I play to win, tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-u-u-u-u-u,' and so on. Sorry, I'm not the best singer. Mm, no, not really. Never had a chance to learn. Probabaly the violin. I heard it's a difficult instrument, which is one of the things that intrigues me about it."

💽"Yes! I like collecting books, newspapers from the 'old times,' audio tapes and stuff like that. Really to collect information. But especially books. There isn't a particular reason, I just enjoy doing it. Or I suppose the reason would be that I want to know as much as possible about Villedor and its life and how life was for other people in the hot of the apocalypse."

🧋"Tea. By God how much I love tea. Especially black tea with thyme. I can't even explain it, I just do. My second top tea is from a specific brand, but it's also black tea with apple and... and some other berry. I don't know its name in English. Oh, that entirely depends on the season and how I'm feeling. But generally, I lean more towards warm or hot drinks."

🌻 random in-character questions

an ask game where, instead of replying from your perspective, you answer as if it's your original character/muse/self-insert/etc. answering the question ✨

🌧️ "When outside during the rain, do you use a raincoat, an umbrella, or something else? Do you enjoy rain?"

🍳 "Are you a good cook? Do you enjoy cooking? What's your favorite thing to cook?"

🧼 "Do you prefer to take a shower during the morning or evening? Do you like taking baths? What's your favorite scent of shower gel?"

❌ "Would you do something that someone told you not to do? Why? Is there someone you'd actually listen to more than everyone else?"

🏳️ "What will make you give up?"

📖 "What kinds of books do you read? Do you have a lot of time to read?"

⛸️ "What's your favorite kind of sport? Do you follow sports closely or don't care at all?"

😷 "How often do you get sick? Do you stay at home when sick or do you end up going outside to, say, get some groceries? If you go outside, would you wear a mask?"

🥼 "Do you have to wear a uniform somewhere? If yes, how do you feel about it? If no, what kind of uniform would you love to wear?"

🥂 "How do you celebrate you accomplishments?"

🛴 "What's your preferred way of getting somewhere - own car, public transport, a bicycle, or something else? How well do you follow the traffic rules?"

🕰️ "What do you use to check what time it is?"

🥰 "What would make you feel happy and loved?"

🐇 "Do you believe in other dimensions?"

🎺 "What kind of music do you mostly listen to? Do you know how to play an instrument, and if not, which one would you want to learn to play?"

💽 "Do you collect anything? Why?"

🧋 "What's your go-to thing to drink? Do you prefer cold or hot drinks?"

[love-byers]

st4 music coding: yearning and miscommunication (& lumax/byler parallel)

alright here we go

this will be long so strap in

(yes this is the post i've been hyping up for like 3 days lol)

there's a song that i noticed plays twice in season 4, in two very similar scenes, and a third that ill talk about later. the first is lucas looking at the hellfire club celebrate, and the second is will looking at mike and el skate ahead of him. i've drawn a few interesting parallels here that i think really strengthen byler endgame. please watch the video above in tandem with reading the post

first of all the obvious: lucas and will are both yearning to be with what/who they're looking at. lucas wanted to be there for the end of the campaign. he asked them to move it, not cancel it. he wanted to be there because he likes being in the club and he loves his friends. and we all know will byers is devastatingly in love with mike wheeler, so that speaks for itself. lucas and will are both feeling rejected, forgotten, unneeded, replaced. they are also both looking at their sibling taking their place. erica took lucas' place in hellfire, and el has taken will's place at mike's side. mike and el were attached at the hip the whole day, and that used to be mike and will. will knew mike long before el did, and before they started dating mike and will were a firm duo. mike and el were heavy on the PDA that day, but mike used to be affectionate towards will too, putting his arm around him, holding his hand, sticking close to him, laying his head on his chest, hugging him, etc etc. now mike can't even hug him. and there's a special sting about your sibling of all people replacing you, and seeing your friends (or crush in will's case) having a great time without you, with the better version of you, not needing you, not even thinking of you. and right there, ladies and gentleman, is where will and lucas are wrong. sure, the hellfire club were happy with erica and about the fact that they won, but they wanted lucas there. the whole reason mike and dustin were upset in the first place was because lucas was choosing the basketball team over them. they accepted that lucas had "gone to the dark side" and went on to find his replacement. they feel like lucas doesn't need them anymore, that he's replaced them with the jocks. and little do they know, that is not true. lucas misses them and yearns to be over there celebrating with them. and though it doesn't seem like it in that moment (lucas' point of view), they miss him and want him there too. they are miscommunicating. the same is going on with mike and will. will feels rejected, ignored, replaced. he thinks mike has basically forgotten he was there. he thinks mike couldn't give half a shit about him. he thinks mike doesn't need him. he will soon find out that that could not be farther from the truth. mike was HOT AND FUCKING BOTHERED. he felt rejected by will. he felt like will was purposefully pulling away. he felt ignored. he felt replaced by will's non-existent friends and maybe even a girl will liked. he felt like will didn't need him anymore, that will was doing great without him. he felt like he had lost will. he, like the hellfire club, accepted (or attempted to accept) that they weren't wanted or needed and leaned heavy into filling that void. (meanwhile lucas' replacement wasn't sufficing, and will didn't even have one). and little does mike know, that is all wrong. he missed will just as much as will missed him. he'd been watching will all day hoping will would talk to him. meanwhile will thinks mike has looked at him like...twice, and so does the audience, because we got will's pov first. this is why the rink o mania fight is so all over the place and dramatic, they're basically running smack dab into each other at full speed. they're both confused because the other suddenly cares about their relationship, and they're both hurt. they are miscommunicating. the hellfire club enjoyed having erica there, but she's not lucas. mike enjoyed hanging out with el, but she's just not will. meanwhile , lucas' replacement for hellfire wasn't sufficing, and will never tried to replace mike at all.

onto more specifc and visual parallels: lucas, el, will, and mike all fake smiles. i really want to stress el and mike, because not a lot of people realize that shot is about both of them. mike is faking a smile too. mike is upset too. mike is trying to appear happy and satisfied too. like y'all please cut my son some slack he was having a BAD DAY. his whole day was shitty too just have some empathy. if you really pay attention, you'll see that mike and el are doing the exact same things in tandem. mike sighs, el sighs. mike fakes a smile, el fakes a smile. mike's smile falls, el's smile falls. they're both trying to conform, trying to pass of lies as reality. "I try to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies... I try to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes..."

now lastly: the scene of max listening to the radio call of the game. this falls right in line with the themes of the other scenes. she feels like lucas is doing great without her, like she's not needed. his life is just getting better and better and hers is getting worse. but she's got it all wrong too. she turns it off when the radio guy says "He must be feeling on top of the world right now". he was not. he was feeling shitty and missing his friends. he was missing max desperately, all the time. and he felt rejected by max, like she was steadily pulling away from him. and unlike the others where the distancing happens because of the miscommunication, max and lucas' happened because max distanced herself, and she was not there to see how lucas was really feeling, which was shitty. and yall already know im byler brainrotted as fuck so its extremely important to me that both times this track is used there is romance involved. in the ep 1 scene the song specifically trails into max's scene, roping her into this coding. mike and will are once again paralleled to a canon, requited, well written couple.

i don't really have any closing thoughts

actually here i have one: lucas and will parallels are the reason i wake up and breathe every day

and another actually

at this point to anyone who truly thinks mlvn are getting married:

and byler endgame but wbk

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn’t resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

'Morning, sunshine.' 

The sarcasm burns into every letter. You stick your tongue out and type your reply. You lay in the dim of your drawn curtains, still half-nestled in your bed. 

'Morning, sparky.' 

Curtis' response makes you giggle. 'Sparky?' 

No emojis. He's not the type. You laze despite the minutes ticking by. Your thumbs flick over the digital keys. 

'Give it but can't take it.' 

The next bubble has you breathless; 'oh I'm more than willing to give'. Oh, okay. You don't know how to answer that. You send a wink emoticon then prompty groan at your own cluelessness. 

You lock the screen and sit up. Is this what life is? Torturous obligation and cringey efforts to be normal. You want to send a message telling Curtis it's okay if he just gives up. You're a mess.  

You drag yourself out of your room. As you try to empty the reusable filter for the coffee grounds, you spill it everwhere. You need to start emptying it after use. Another missed checkbox. 

Your phone buzzes again. Great. You're sure it's just him calling you lame. You snatch the cell and go to swipe away the message but it isn't Curtis. 

WhatsApp. 

Hm. Maybe another recruiter cold messaging? 

You tap with your thumb, resolved to finally delete the app and wipe the slate clean. You just need to forget that mistake. If you can. 

The message waiting for you doesn’t bode well. 

‘Feeling thirsty yet?’ 

You stare at it. You can’t be sure it’s Hugh. The number isn’t the same, you would recognise the last few digits at least. The coffee machine spits out the last few droplets. You turn to grab your cup, the phone buzzing in your hand. 

You read with dread, ‘ah come on, just one more go.’ 

It has to be him. Who else could it be? What else could they be referring to? 

A video pops up and plays automatically. You click it to make it bigger as you try to make out what’s going on. Your heart drops and your phone nearly does too. You stare at the recording of yourself on the bed, undressing as you huddle near the top of the hotel bed. 

A cold splash sends a chill through you. You remember him turning on the speaker. He must have connected his phone but then you didn’t see what he did with it after that. You didn’t think to pay attention to that, you were too swept up in your own catastrophe. 

‘Let’s talk.’ 

Those two words spike your panic. What did you do? You’re so stupid and yet how are you surprised? Nothing ever goes right. How dare you even try to believe things could get better? That maybe Curtis could be something more than a disappointment. 

Loser. Loser. Loser! 

You want to bang your head on the counter. You want to scream. You want to crumple into a heap in cry. 

You don’t do anything of that. You simply key into the screen; ‘why?’ 

He sends a laughing emoji. Then a real message. ‘That’s what we’re going to talk about.’ 

Your eyes glaze with tears and you shake your head. He’s taunting you. Toying with you. This is all just an ego stroke for some narcissist that gets off on himself. Why else would he do what he does? Well, who are you to judge? You paid for his services. 

‘That cafe near your office. 12:30.’ 

You toss the phone on the counter like it’s acid. What the hell? How does he know where you work? How does he know there’s a cafe there? No, no, no. How does he know anything about you? Why does he care? 

You pace around hectically. You can’t stay still. You scratch your skin as if you might peel it off. An unbearable itch burns through you. You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a wretch. 

You reel in your doom, just enough to retrieve the cell from the floor. You shakily send a thumbs up. That’s all you can manage. Not a good job, just a confirmation. You’ll be there because you have no other choice. 

⛅

Your morning is frantic. You have a thousand things to do at once. The phone calls are endless and Shania double-booked another reservation. Don’t you always get the happy job of informing the guests they have to rebook. Fun, fun, fun. 

The demanding customers are the least of your problems. Work at the Travel Agency can be downright agony but right now you prefer it to the alternative. It’s the rare instance where you curse the clock for going too fast. 

Usually, a trip down to the cafe is your relief. An indulgence on an especially stressful day. That day is more nerve-wracking than any but you don’t think a dose of caffeine would make it any better. You’re already rattling through to your bones. 

You reluctantly leave your desk. Your phone is firmly in your purse, where it’s been all day. You don’t want to look at it, even if it’s Curtis making it buzz. You just want to shut down. 

You take the stairs. You don’t want to be around other people though you realise the cafe will be busy with the lunchtime rush. You wonder if that’s deliberate. You get to the ground floor and make your way outside. 

You stop before the cafe. You peer along the tinted windows and your eyes stop on the singular familiar figure. There he is. Hugh. Somehow, he looks different than that night. How, you can’t say. He’s wearing a similar swear, a light robin’s egg blue, luxurious even. The sweater can’t be cheap given the small logo embroidered on one side of the chest. 

You enter and skip the line. You go straight to the table and stop behind the chair opposite...him. You cross your arms and glare at him. Hugh casually lifts his chin and smiles up at you. Your forehead wrinkles in disgust. 

“You look wound tight,” he sits up completely, the last consonant sharp. “Need help with that?” 

Your nostrils flare and you drag out the chair. You drop into the seat and push your elbows into the table. You lean across it and snarl, “what do you want?” 

He snorts, “I like that about. Always straight to the point... even when you have no idea what you’re doing.” 

Your cheeks tingle with heat and you look away. You push your shoulders back and shift in discomfort. Even as the bruises fade, if you think hard enough, you can feel that night still. 

“That boyfriend know about me yet?” He sips from the tall porcelain cup in front of him. You shake your head and put your eyes to the table. 

“Aw, well, I can’t blame you,” he clinks the cup down. “He wouldn’t be able to handle the competition. Would he?” 

“I have to get back to work so whatever you want, just say it.” 

He chortles again and hums, “I said I wanna talk. We’re talking. Isn’t it nice?” 

“I don’t have money if that’s what you’re getting at--” 

“Money? Hm, that’s real funny. Oh, you think... you think I’m desperate? I wanted some Balenciaga.” He flicks a finger up and down the mug handle. “Thanks for that, by the way.” 

You huff and shake your head, “and it’s better that you get off on embarrassing me? Well, I hope you’re enjoying it because you’ve done a great job.” 

You peek up at him and his grin slants. He leans an elbow on the table as he sits forward. His eyes crinkle as he considers you. 

“It’s not about money, not even about a joke,” he says. “It’s the way you squeezed me. The way you whined for me,” his voice lowers to a sultry rasp. “The way you drained me fucking dry. You know how many princesses I’ve had on my dick and they just lay there and--” He makes a motion with his hand, “dead fish.” 

You frown, “you’re gross.” 

“I’m secure in myself,” he argues. “Real rich of you to act like you didn’t like it when you came all over my fucking fingers. Didn’t even take much.” 

You rub your neck and stare out the window. Your stomach is boiling. You just want him to get his kicks and go. 

“It’s how I know you didn’t lie. About being a virgin, or whatever,” he says. “You know, you could’ve sold that yourself but I guess you were having some trouble finding a buyer--” 

“My lunch is almost over,” you grit out. “Get to it, Hugh.” 

He laughs louder than before. He scoops up his cup and drains it. “You’re so funny. Really. You make me laugh.” You glower and his smirks widens. “Alright, alright. Pretty simple, you probably already know what I want. Just one more time. I just need to feel it again. That grip--” He makes a fist and you scoff. 

“I told you I’m not interested--” 

“No? Not interested at all in your porn debut,” he taps his phone and you reach across to swat his hand back. 

“Why did you do that?” You hiss. 

“Woah, I gotta be safe. I record in case something goes wrong,” he pushes your hand away. “Lucky me, it went so fucking right. You know how many times I’ve watched it?” 

You groan and rest your head in your hands. You’re fucked. Utterly and totally. Likely literally. 

“Tonight,” he says. “Tell the goth boy you’re doing overtime.” 

You sit back and stare at him. Your chest pits and your eyes glimmer. It shouldn’t hurt so much but it does. You don’t want to lose Curtis, not yet. 

This is exactly why you didn’t want to get attached. 

☕

You don't text Curtis. You can't bring yourself to do it. You just leave him hanging. He'll probably assume your busy. You're sure he has something better to do. 

Just like most things in your life, it's over before it begins. Why did you let yourself believe it could be anything? After tonight, it definitely won't be. 

That time is different. You don't primp yourself or preen over whether you look good. Instead, you toss all those things you bought to do yourself up the first time in the trash. Everything but the condoms. 

You pace restlessly around your apartment. That's another violation. You offered another hotel. 'Your place.' The argument was short. Fuck. 

He can't come here. He can't do this. You can't do this. Not again. 

Your legs wobble and you teeter to the couch. You sit down and fold over your knees. You can feel the dull pain already. Back in that room, bawling as he pumps into you, scraping out your guts. 

You're going to be sick! 

You lurch up and run to the bathroom. You spew into the toilet and pant through the acidic saliva left in your mouth. You shut the lid and flush. 

You should leave the residue in your mouth. It might repulse Hugh enough to get rid of him. Yet if you don't rinse out the acidic flavour, you'll just hurl again. 

You brush your teeth slowly then look at yourself in the mirror. You look scared. You are but you look utterly terrified. Why is this happening to you? 

You're not stupid enough to think you're special. No, you're weak. He's a shark and he smelled blood in the water. He set you up for this. You were too nervous, too desperate, and too stupid to see through his ploy. 

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it, even as it thrums against the table noisily. If it's Curtis, you might just cry. 

The door buzzer chirps. Right. You push away from the sink and shudder.  

Your feet hit the floor clumsily and you walk as if you're wadding through thick mud. You hit the button as your stomach churns again. His voice adds to the broil of sickness. 

"Baby, I'm here." 

You press the button down without as response. You stagger away and linger by the door. You hear him coming down the hall. You open the door at the first knock. 

"Someone's eager," he snickers. 

You don't say a word. You step back. He enters and whistles. 

"Not bad. Cozy," he says. "Bouta get real cozy, huh?" 

You shut the door and lock it. He turns and examines the walls. You stare at him. 

"Jeez, baby, you got a knife or something? Looking like you're about to crack up over there," he taunts. 

That might have been a good idea if you weren't nervous of stabbing yourself in an attempt. Besides, he's a lot stronger. You remember how thick his muscle was, how easily he ignored your pleas. 

"Hospitable too," he sniffs and slips off his velvet loafers. "Whatcha got going on?" He struts further into the apartment. "Wine? Beer?" 

He goes to fridge and pops it open. You loom like a shadow against the wall as you tiptoe after him. He sucks his teeth as he examines the contents on the racks. 

"Ugh, boring," he remarks.  

"Don't drink," you croak. 

"You didn't seem to mind the wine," he shuts the fridge without his bounty. "Fuck, well, it'll be good. You'll like it better sober. Although I do prefer a sloppy fuck." 

You grimace. He makes no pretense as he continues his exploration. He strides past the living room and head through your bedroom door. 

"No cute jammies tonight, huh?" He calls through. 

You waft into the doorway like a ghost. That's what you are. You are hollowed out. You resign yourself, surrender yourself to ruin. It's all over. 

Goodbye, Curtis. 

"Looks like you don't got much in mind but don't worry, baby, I planned ahead," he faces you with a wink. "Wanna try something new?" 

No. You don’t want to do any of this. You glower. 

“Shit, baby, you keep looking at me like that and I’m going to have to wipe that look off your face... along with something else,” he grabs his crotch and growls. “Hard already, you know? Just thinking about what I’m about to do.” 

Your lip curls as disgust crawls up your back. “Just get it over with,” you murmur. 

“Trying,” his eyes flash dangerously. The retort makes you think of Curtis but he never spoke to you so harshly. 

You step out of the doorway before you can fall apart. Your breath clouds in your chest until it feels like someone’s standing on you. You let it out slowly as plays with the black cat figuring on your bookshelf. He scoffs, unimpressed. 

“So,” he faces you and tugs at the hem of his sweater, inching it up, “why are your clothes still on?” 

You glance away angrily. “Your phone goes in the drawer,” you point to the night stand. 

“Pfft, come on. I already got the good shots. What’s another dirty movie, baby? I gotta say, you look good on film--” 

“Put it in the drawer,” you insist.  

“Damn, don’t gotta be so mean, baby.” He snickers and wiggles his phone at you then puts it in the night stand. 

“I’m not your joke, so stop laughing at me.” 

“Lighten up. I’m not laughing at you, baby. I just...” He pauses as he pulls his sweater over his head. He wears a thin white tank underneath, his reddish chest hair peeking out the top. “How many women do you think hold my attention once I’ve been in ‘em? Let’s just say, we both had our first that night.” 

“Don’t try to flatter me,” you snip. 

“Girl,” he squares his shoulder and the humour flickers from his expression, “get your clothes off.” 

Your mouth twitches. You take a breath and turn away. You look down at the wrinkled blouse you wore to work. You’re sure he’s full of hot air, he’s just mocking you, especially since he’s wearing Calvin Klein and you’re in Walmart clearance. 

You unbutton it as you hear his clothing rustle softly. A shiver speckles across your back as you throw it in your hamper. Your pants go just as easily as you push down the elastic waistband. Another wave of nausea threatens but you keep it down. 

You unhook your bra as your bed squeaks. You keep your eyes down and step out of your panties. You pause as you dangle them over the basket. You blink away the heat in your eyes. Why did you run away from Curtis all those times? Why does it have to be Hugh? 

You spin and march over to him. He sits on the end of the bed, naked, knees wide. You reach for him, intent to be done with him, but he catches your hands and holds them away from him. 

“Uh uh, you really think it’s going to be that easy,” he sneers. “Oh, baby, I didn’t get any of that mouth.” 

Your lip quivers and your nose scrunches, “what?” 

“Don’t worry, it’s fun, baby. I can train you up for the sad boy,” he chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you twist away from him. “Don’t talk about him.” 

“Aw, what’sa matter? He don’t make you wet like I do, huh?” 

You stomp away and snatch the box of condoms from behind your dresser. You take one and bring it to him. He snorts. 

“You like the taste of rubber?” 

“Put it on.” 

“You think I’m dirty? You saw my test results.” 

“I don’t care,” you shove it into his chest. 

“Be a lot nicer if you tasted the real thing,” he huffs. 

You cross your arms and wait. He rolls his eyes and peels the wrapper open. He pinches the thick ring then presses the rubber to his tip. 

“Well, get on your knees. You’re the one so anxious to get this done with. Is the boy toy on his way? Scared he’ll catch—woah!”  

He lets go of himself and the condom rolls up just to his tip. He catches your hand before you can make contact with his cheek. “I told you not to talk about him.” 

“I like this zest,” He stands and raises your arms above you, “but you won’t like mine.” 

He spins you and pushes you onto the bed. You fall heavily and bounce, your teeth snapping down on your tongue. You whimper as he slides his fingers around his dick, pushing the rubber to his base. He climbs up on his knees, straddling you as he advances up your body. 

You push on his thighs as he gets higher. Once more, he has your wrists. He clasps them against the mattress, locking them above your head. You flail your legs and he laughs again. His other hand goes to his length and he strokes himself as he presses the lubed condom to your lips. 

“Open up for daddy,” he jeers and pushes until he meets your teeth. “I feel the hint of a nip and I’ll skip the kitty and go straight for the peach. Understand that, baby girl?” 

Your eyes widen as your bottom puckers. Your fear radiates from your gaze and draws another pleased hum from him. You open your mouth and close your eyes, gagging as the rubber smears lube across your tongue. 

He angles as he dips down, touching your reflex as he invades your throat. You choke and spasm under him as he wiggles his hips, testing your limits. You can’t breathe. 

He rears and you heave in before he blocks your airway again. He groans and tilts again. Thrusting in and out as you writhe. Tears crest along the brims of your eyes and your saliva smears around your mouth. Each time, he pushes a little further. 

“Fuck, baby, how is it just as good as the pussy?” He purrs as he clutches your hair, rocking over you as the smell of the condom adds to your revulsion. 

He pumps into you until you’re raw with agony. He lets go of your hands and you push on his hips, begging for him to stop. He doesn’t care. He just keeps going. He quakes and groan, grasping the blankets around your head as he fucks you your head into the bed. 

“Gahhh,” he pulls out of you so quickly you gag. 

You cover your mouth as he bounces over you. He rolls the condom off and keeps stroking himself. You’re surprised as he spurts his cum onto you, the slimy mess string over your knuckles and onto your nose and cheeks. You put your hand out to shield yourself as he grunts and sits back on his heels. 

“The hell?” You gasp. 

“I couldn’t fucking hold it, woulda split the damn thing in half,” he puffs as he cups his balls. “Speaking of splitting things in half--” 

You lift yourself on your elbows, trying to drag yourself out from under him. He snags you around your ribs and pushes you flat. “Where are you going?” 

“You just--” 

“Finished? No, that’s round one,” he snickers. “You don’t think I got a few tricks? I mean, a blue pill keeps me in business.” 

You curl your lip again and he laughs even louder. You glance up at the night table at the box of condoms. He sighs. 

“Fucking tight ass,” he hisses. “Want me to see if that’s literal?” You look at him and bare your teeth. He waves you off and climbs off you to grab the box. “Whatever. At least you had the good sense to get good ones.” 

You slowly sit up and wipe your face. He leans on one knee and slides on another condom. He quivers and exhales through his nose. He grabs your shoulder and nudges you. 

“Wouldn’t mind it from the back,” he says. 

You resist and he snarls, “relax. If I go through the back door, I might not get it out with you being so uptight.” He pinches your nipple cruelly. “Go on, show Ransom that booty.” You tilt your head curiously. Ransom? His eyes dart away, “you gonna listen to daddy or you want some spankings while I’m back there?” 

You move reluctantly. You roll over and he grabs your hips, guiding your ass higher as he jostles behind you. He drags his hands around your ass and down your thighs, then up again. He smacks you harshly so you feel the jiggle. You yelp and he guffaws. 

“Oh, fuck, should flipped you over the first time.” He gropes your ass and rubs himself against you. 

Your insides curdle. You hide in yourself. You try not to think about reality. Not about the desecration of your home, your safe space, of the place you made all your own. Nor the same being done to your body. To your relationship. 

Whatever, it was never going to last. 

He glides down between your cheeks, lingering as if considering it. You twitch and he snorts. He trails further down and presses against your cunt. He groans as he stretches you slowly. It isn’t easier. Not better. Not like they say. 

No, they say the first time is the worst. No, this is. This is torture. This is hell. 

He leans into you, grunting as you squeeze him, as your body resists his intrusion. He bends over you, his torso flush to your back, and thrusts. He impales you complete and you cry out. You push against him as your body racks in agony. 

He pumps again and you squeal louder. Fuck. Your fingers curl until your knuckles hurt. You hang your head and shudder. He rocks into you, playing with your hair as he nuzzles your nape. He puffs into your skin and it sends a roil of disgust through you. 

You sink down until your face is in the blankets. You crush your arms beneath you and drone into the bed. He hooks his arm under you to keep your ass up, rutting faster and faster. Your flesh claps like thunder, a never-ending cacophony. 

He growls and brings a hand under your chin, then his other. You wriggle as he squeezes your face and hooks his fingers in your mouth, pulling taught your lips. You arch your back and whine as he keeps his callous pace. 

You grab onto his arms as the strain in your lips feels as if it might tear. He lifts your head and you deepen the curve in your back, trying to balance him at both ends. His nose tickles the back of your ear. 

“Yeah, baby, squeeze me just like that. Ugh, that pussy knows what it wants better than you do,” he taunts. “Ugh, you latched on tight.” 

You can’t speak, you can’t shake your head, you can’t deny him in any way. 

“You feel so good,” he snarls. “The way you go me... fuck I feel it in my gut... I’m gonna...”  

He slides his hands from your mouth and wraps his arms around you instead; one at your neck, the other around your middle. He pulls you up with him and pounds relentlessly. The bed rocks furiously beneath you as your addled voice gurgles from your throat. The headboard knocks into the wall in a frenetic tempo. 

“Yeah, so good,” he rasps between deep breaths. “So good. Never... think I’d let you go, huh?” 

You hang from his embrace. Defeated. You did this to yourself. So take it. 

[kudouusagi]

Animedia Uryuu Kyouko interview

Not skating but playing karuta!?

Q: What is the scene that you though "this is hot" the most during?

A: While they were playing Karuta! Please feel that true breath of life!

You'll be able to see all sorts of firsts!

You'll be able to see how Sakurayashiki and Nanjou interacted while they were young!

Just as the title says, you'll be able to see their morning routines!

You'll be able to see Hiromi-chan in love!

Click to read the rest of the interview

We asked Kyoko Uryu for secrets about the production of the OVA! 

--It's been just about 4 years from when the first season was aired on TV, and the OVA is going to be shown in theaters soon. How did you determine how production would go?

While we were making the first season, people would often say things like "I'd like to do this type of thing in season 2" so there was a strong desire to continue in the production team. So it was determined we'd make a season 2 very soon after we saw the reaction to season one. However, since it's an original anime without a work to base it off of, and the staff had plans to work on other projects, we figured it would take a while to make another season. We decided to produce an OVA before the second season, as we wanted to deliver something new in the meantime, and also as a gift to express our gratitude to the fans who would be waiting for a long time. That ended up taking quite a while too though......(sweat). Thank you so much for waiting......!

--Uryuu-san, please tell us your favorite part of the OVA, that's an "Omnibus story about their everyday lives"

We wanted to make something we couldn't do in the series, and we wanted to make it something that us as the staff would also want to see, so this is an episode we made from all of our ideas. I can't say much about the content yet because it would be spoilers, but I can tell you now that my personal favorite point is the theme song! Not only is it sung by Reki and Langa, the lyrics that Utsumi-san helped produce are amazing, so please listen to the full version on the OVA bonus CD!

--In the commercial currently available, we see Sakurayashiki and Nanjo in their highschool days. Was the part set in the past something you came up with after it was decided there would be an OVA?

Well, we had decided that they've been "frenemies since childhood" before this, but we started from wondering how these two would have been during their school days if they fight like children even as adults..... That's how we went about creating this story. We hope you enjoy seeing their former daily lives(?) that we aren't really able to depict in the main series.

--If there's a character that your impression of has changed, or you've found a new appeal because of the OVA, please tell us!

Kikuchi! Kikuchi is a mysterious character by nature, but I think you'll see a side of him that's completely different from the image you have of him from the TV series.

--Other than the second season that's already being made, there have been various collaborations and pilgrimage tours held for this series that's been loved for a long time. Is there anything that you personally want to see happen for SK8, Uryuu-san?

I feel like the fans of SK8 have a deep love for this series, so if I ever have the change, I'd like to have a tea party or something like that to talk with the fans about the series. I'll never forget about how enthusiastic the fans were at the talk event held during the pilgrimage tour last year (lol). Other than that, I'd like to be able to have a Canada episode someday and be able to hold a Canada pilgrimage tour...... of course before that I'd like to go to Canada with Utsumi-san for location scouting!

--Finally, please give a message to everyone waiting for the OVA to go one sale and the theater screening!

Thank you so much for waiting 4 whole years. 

The OVA is made for the fans who are overflowing with love for SK8, and I think it's packed full of rich content for them so please look forward to it!

The limited time theater screening will of course contain the OVA itself, but we also plan to deliver specially edited footage from the first season so that everyone in the theater can enjoy it together, as well as behind-the-scenes talks with the cast and director. There will be footage only shown in the theater so I hope everyone will enjoy it together before the OVA comes out. The OVA packaging will be just as elaborate, if not more than, the series packaging, so we hope you'll pick it up and watch it over and over again!

[scrungledwung]

I think my favorite example of "This game has baked in assumptions about what mode of play you should be using, and isn't shy about it " is Brindlewood Bay.

In Brindlewood Bay, players take the role of retired age women who became friends over their mutual love of a specific murder mystery author, subsequently having to solve small town murders that are reminiscent of that genre. Throughout this is sprinkled Eldritch goings on and cult shenanigans, to be revealed over the course of the campaign.

The main system mechanic, and the reason why I say the game has a strong opinion on player mode, is that the murder mysteries the players are solving HAVE NO INTENDED SOLUTION! The players find clues, posit theories, make an accusation, and a roll of the dice (and some math) determines if they were right. If they were wrong, a complication occurs, and they have to keep investigating.

The game suggests, and is best run, if all players know how the solution mechanic works. Which means that two of the above 4 modes are fully excluded, and one of the remaining is HIGHLY recommended.

The gamer is excluded because the game has no WIN condition. Ostensibly it's to solve the murder, but no one wants a game where you find one clue, roll lucky, and go home.

The Isekai is excluded because, unless you have a specific life experience of being an older woman, many of the mechanics don't make sense. One of the main ways you avoid dying at the hands of the murderer is through narrating flashbacks of relevant experiences to buy a good dice roll, which, yeah most of us can't do without acting.

The actor is a possible frame to approach this game from, but I think is highly dissuaded from by one of the main resolution mechanics. Any sufficiently dangerous roll in the game has the player rolling posit a consequence to the DM for failing the roll, and the DM giving them a way that what they're expecting could end up MUCH worse. The player can then decide NOT to roll that test. Which is, while not impossible, hard for most people to do while just trying to act like their character.

Which leaves the storyteller stance, which is exactly what the game wants you to use from the start. Who cares if you solve the mystery quickly, you should be solving like The Greats!

Obviously this is a byproduct of the game being so steeped in it's genre, a competently written murder mystery that's boring to read/watch is inferior to an engaging mystery with some loose ends. I also think it's unique in how it approaches the issue that most mystery games have, which is varying ability to solve/create puzzles. There's a couple other examples as to how the game leans towards storytelling as an overall frame of play, but I'd recommend playing the game, as most of them are more fun to experience than read about.

So what about FATE? How is it not universal as an RPG?

The biggest non-universal dimension of FATE – at least in its modern incarnations – is that it has a very strong set of baked-in assumptions about the relationship between players and player characters.

This is something I've talked about in the past; to somewhat oversimplify, there are roughly four ways for a player in a tabletop RPG to relate to their character:

The Isekai Stance: I am my character, and my character is me. I'll have my character do whatever I myself would do if I happened to be, for example, an elf wizard.

The Actor Stance: I'm an actor, and my character is my role. I'll have my character do what I feel it would be psychologically realistic for them to do under the circumstances.

The Storyteller Stance: I'm a narrator telling a story, and my character is the co-protagonist of that story. I'll have my character do whatever I feel would make for the most interesting story.

The Gamer Stance: I'm a person playing a game, and my character is my playing-piece. I'll do whatever it takes to win.

This generally isn't a useful way to classify either players or games; games typically have weak baked-in assumptions about which stance their players will adopt, and to the extent that these assumptions are present, a game may make different default assumptions for different parts of play. A common set of assumptions is actor mode outside of combat and gamer mode in combat, for example.

FATE is, of course, an exception to the rule, in that it has very strong baked-in assumptions about what stance players will adopt toward their characters, and further assumes that play will occur at least mostly in this mode. The Fate Point economy that forms the core of the gameplay loop 100% assumes that you're going to be playing in storyteller nearly all of the time – the types of decisions it's asking players to make on a moment-by-moment basis are frequently straight up unintelligible from any other perspective.

This is a big part of why suggesting FATE because it can "do anything" can go over like a lead balloon: the folks making this suggestion aren't taking into account the possibility that a given group's players may not vibe with the system's assumptions about how players relate to their characters. Storyteller-mode-all-the-time is actually a fairly uncommon group play style, and it often seems that FATE fans don't realise this!

[astracora]

EVER's Tool

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc (Sylus POV/MC POV)

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Talk of EVER Experiments and Torture, Violence, Gore, Spoilers for multiple anecdotes and all current story.

Word Count: 10348

Written: 10th January 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. A lil AU almost, set after cat curse and turning point. I had the mental image of EVER making MC into a personal weapon, using the fact their memories reset so it's easier to manipulate them. I also think about the line that 'sincere emotions are hard to forget', and how the LADs are basically EVER's worst problem when it comes to controlling them. As a side note, I fucking hated Leon when I read the anecdotes, so so much. The creepy way of calling a child 'little bomb' just set me wanting him smacked in the face. So I'm channelling that dislike into ruining his day. The way I screenshotted so many main story things to pull into this. It's upsetting... I had to double check so much stuff cause I have a terrible memory. My final lil note is I have no idea how MC's resonance works, but there was a line in one of the anecdotes that EVER wanted it to absorb Xavier's, so I've run with the concept.) I have no idea if anyone else will care about this lil brain thread, but hey, have at ye. Will there be more? Gods only know. Now I can finally sleep its 2am and my brain refused to let me rest.

Now Playing: Bite Marks, by League of Legends (ft TEYA)

Masterlist

Missing for months now… He's reached out to every source he can find. Has sent Mephisto all over Linkon, the N109 Zone, beyond.

He has looked in every shadow, every dark hole he can find. He has searched and searched, and still found no trace of you. He has never felt this powerless, this lost, to have all the resources of Onychinus and still unable to find answers to the only question he really cares to have answered.

How can you have disappeared? Vanished on him, on them, when you have built a life together? The house has emptied, the halls are quieter, the bedroom you all share is hard to sleep in.

It is like they have acquired ghosts. Griefs that will not rest, that cannot settle… because they have no answers. No response, no way to seek you out to soothe open wounds, and apply salve to scars.

He cannot stop, he cannot stop looking. He looked for you through time, and space, he will not stop now.

If you are out there, he will find you, and bring you back home. To them.

He did not vow and share his soul with you, to lose you.

He has spent most of his days looking, and searching. When he is not forcing himself to keep being Onychinus' leader, he barely sleeps for investigating. If he stops for a moment he thinks of an empty bed, and cold sheets. Of limbs no longer tangled with his. Of fingers no longer soothing through his hair.

Sylus cannot bring himself to tremble and to crumble, he does not have time. Not when the answer has fractured his home. His loved ones.

He watches Xavier hunt, carry out his job. Kill and fight. Mindless and driven, because he wants to protect the Linkon you cared about too. He wants to keep his blade busy, so that his mind does not wander. Then, Sylus knows he searches and he looks. Under rock, across desert, in the mountains. Everywhere his missions take him, he searches.

He comes home empty handed, and tired, but never seems to sleep properly anymore. Restless and unsettled, no matter how often someone soothes his hair and holds him. Xavier sits in the cycle that Sylus knows they cannot break.

He has tried to reach out to Rafayel, the fish beached and unbreathing. He sits in his art room and stares at paintings he cannot finish. Empty canvas and snapped paintbrushes. There are days, he tears them, dry sobs in his chest, eyes burning for tears he can't quite shed. He splatters paint up walls, and stares at what remains. His hands cut and torn from violent actions.

He finds no inspiration, and he ignores all of Thomas' calls, and he sits as the doctor tends to damaged skin, and clings to hands to keep himself grounded. Whispering things that he doesn't want them to hear. Fears of it being his fault. They can only respond with tight arms, and affirmation. It is not, they're sure. It is not.

He watches Zayne pick up more shifts than he should handle, only home when forced to be. Sinking into work, and sleeping in call rooms. When he does return, he waters plants you have left behind, feeds the cats outside the house that seek you out, and keeps your things neat. He traces trembling fingers over photo frames, looks through albums, and reminds himself. So he can stop mistaking every hunter he sees as you.

His sleep is more uneven, and he trembles awake with nightmares, hands reaching out for comfort, and clinging to chests to cry. To weep, to shake. He cannot find solace no matter where he looks, and Sylus can only offer presence and love because he does not know where the solace is found either.

His home is torn and hurting, and he cannot fix it. He will not stop trying to fix it.

He has to fix it.

It is a late night, ninety-two days after your disappearance, when Mephisto's feed flashes. He watches, and he waits, and he sees a flash of familiar white hair and jagged scar down your cheek, through your mouth.

His hand tremours in front of the screen, as he reaches out with tentative fingertips. As though he can reach through it, and pull you through…

His legs force him up before he can second guess himself, before he can waver on the edge of unsurity. Before he can hesitate to long to miss you. He calls the prince, and he leaves. On the first winds of hope, since you vanished.

—-----

The prince stands alert outside the building, while Sylus breaks in. It is old and condemned, the same kind of building that collapsed down around you. Landed you in hospital as they put you back together.

It is not a place he would normally spend his time at. Yet he trusted Mephisto's eyes better than he trusted most things.

The perks of a robotic bird, that he has upgraded even further after your disappearance. Desperate, though he isn't sure he can admit that. Not without falling to pieces, as he digs and he digs and he searches.

Sylus is quiet as he ascends floors, his mist drifting up walls and through broken door frames. Seeking and searching for the familiarity he can never mistake. No matter how many floors he climbs, he cannot feel you. Cannot seek out the sparks of gold he knows so well, and the soul that cannot complete without his. He finally approaches the final door, and pushes it open. An apartment in ruins, but the smell of acrid blood hits him. Familiar and cloying. It does not appeal to his sense, nor to his hunger.

He looks at the walls, where blood has splattered, across the floor where bloodstains mark it. There is a body, throat cut, arm torn partially off. It takes him a second to assure that it is not you, but it is a second too long. The fear drops his heart before he can pick it back and place it where you placed your own.

Approaching the body, he cares little for the blood on his hands as he rummages through pockets, inspecting the wounds. Another stab mark through the temples. A dagger, curved. Familiar. He's seen it before. Designed by the fish, for you to use, adjusted lightness for the metal of your arm. Replacing the trusty claymore he used to witness you swinging with abandon.

Cleaving through enemies.

Cleaving through him.

He presses his fingers against it, assuring himself that he is not seeing what he wishes to. It would not be the first time he has caught glimpses of you in shadows, in alleys and chased the ghast. It is never you, it is always a cut into an already fragile heart, and he rights himself quickly.

To keep moving forwards.

This, however, he is not mistaken about. So he takes photos, sends them to the fish to evaluate, to the prince to be on guard. That someone is here, with your dagger. If it is not you, it has been stolen from you.

He will greatly enjoy cleaving through whoever has taken something precious to you. To lay their dirty hands on something that is theirs. His home, his family.

Footsteps approach him, and he hears a song he knows is yours. The notes though, they are buried in dust. The tune is not familiar. Your feet shouldn't make that noise, your heart is too familiar to him to be mistaken. To be misheard.

He whirls as a knife flies past his head. Stabbing into the broken sofa behind him. Sinking into moulding fabric. Releasing a smell he wishes he hadn't experienced. It fills the air as you step forwards, twirling a dagger around your fingers like he knows you've seen him do.

Like he taught you when you poked fun at him, asked him how he made it move so smoothly.

'Is it a crime lord aesthetic thing?'

'You have quite an image of me.'

'Am I wrong?'

'You just haven't looked closely enough.'

You are a flash of light, and a chill. A ghostly vision against the dilapidated backdrop. The dagger is dripping blood with each spin, splattering it against the floor and against your clothes. Black and loose. Harness over shoulder and around your chest.

You look as you should, jagged scars and crooked lips, mismatched eyes, arm of meta-

His eyes halt and hold on your form, there is no metal. He looks at the twisted carapace of a wanderer. Segmented into a limb, and long clawed fingers. Sylus feels as though he is staring at his own limb, long ago. When his claws could cut through your flesh with ease, and he could not feel the heat of your skin properly through his own.

It is black and twisted and cracked. Like a well used tool.

It is not yours.

It is not yours.

Yours was silver, painted by the fish, well worn and trusted. A tool as well as a part of you. A shield and a weapon in one.

It could trace his face gently, and swing a dagger with ease.

This is not yours.

The chill that you bring becomes ice down his back. It feels like the cut of a sword through his skin. Tears away at flesh and bone. Your eyes are empty, there is nothing in them but the glow of a gold he recognises. The resonance lurking under skin like a serpent waiting to strike. He levels his look on the dagger, and then back to your eyes. Seeking something out. Seeking you out.

You're in there, you have to be in there.

"Did you forget to check your phone, kitten?" He manages, but his voice is weak and cracked. He wants to grab you, to tell you it's fine, as long as you're safe now. He reaches out, and barely pulls his hand back quick enough before the dagger slices through where it was.

You tilt your head, then look down on the floor, "I was curious to know who sought out my target." The smile is crooked, it's wrong, it's twisted at the edges and broken. Like the horns he cut off years ago. "You're not on my list though."

It's a dismissive shrug, and a turn away. As though he is a stranger… as though he means nothing.

He barely holds the growl, though he is not angry, he advances on you, moving himself out of the way when your dagger darts out again. "Claws out kitten? Watch it, you could hurt someone." He manages, voice low, but pulling his tone to heel. He looks down at you. Reading at the empty gold glow, looking for something. Anything.

Disgust even, if there is disgust… you know of him.

There is nothing. Empty and cool. The abyss he should recognise but it is nothing he has seen before. Like you are missing. Like your body is empty.

You look back at him, unflinching, unbothered, watching him stare at you. It is the EVER symbol on your collar, he notices, it is like a brand against you. It is the flaming fury in his chest. It is not you.

It is them.

"Are you done?" You offer, stepping back out away from him, so he grabs your arm. The twisted skin against his flesh. Warm and pulsing under, but hard as stone. It is a painful thing to touch. It is not yours.

He looks at it, stares, and as he goes to speak, you tug it away from him. Spin, and kick him in the side.

The force makes him see stars for a moment, falling to knees. He gasps before he rights his body, before he forces adrenaline into his veins to catch the next kick you aim at him. The gold glitters under your skin, as you attack, and the leg he catches shakes his limbs. Throwing it away from him, as you spin and back away.

Sylus stands, and advances as you back up further, "That wasn't particularly nice, Kitten, we were having a chat."

"You shouldn't grab someone you don't know. It's impolite." You growl back, showing canines, and narrowing cool eyes at him.

Don't know.

He almost laughs.

He knows you, more than he knows himself. He knows you because you are part of him. He has lived with questions for who he is all of his life, has struggled to decide who he should be and who he is. You? You he knows.

He knows every piece of you, inside and out. He will always see you.

This is not you.

This is them.

"Then we should get to know each other." The words burn to say, and he reaches his hand out, ready to pull you to him. With skin, with mist. He cares little. He will capture you again, and he will make you wake up from whatever nightmare EVER have placed you in.

"I have orders, you're not part of them." You incline your head. He's used to a smile accompanying such an action, a tease, a lilt in your voice. Yet you are flat.

Then with the elbow of the wanderer's limb, you smash the window… and fall back.

He follows, on quicker feet than he has ever moved, melding into mist. Over the edge of the fall, watching you fall back. He has caught you so many times in his life. On the winds, with his wings, with his EVOL. He has followed you over the edge of many cliffs.

He will follow you over any others.

As he reaches out, you twist, hand on his wrist, pulling and turning, so that his back is to the impending floor. "You're determined." You snarl, actually snarl at him. His EVOL catches the dagger you aim for his chest, pushing it back, and he grabs your other arm, keeping the claws from closing around his throat.

You sink your teeth into his hand, biting down hard enough to draw blood, tearing at his flesh like he is a piece of meat you could devour.

The pain shoots up his arm, but it's not important. His wounds can heal, and while you can kill him, you have not levelled that fiend blade at his chest yet. Getting you back is all that matters, no matter the blood seeping down his wrist. You have bitten him before. You have come for him with daggers. You have shot him in the heart. Stabbed him through his joined heart. Cursed him.

Every drop of his blood that you bleed is another drop that belongs to you.

"Want to mark me that badly?" He laughs. He can only hope the prince has rested enough to hear the shattering glass. That he is still capable of hunting.

Your resonance bursts out of the wrist he holds in his mist, shattering it, and you kick, pulling away. Reaching out with claws to grab at the building. Grooves left behind you, as you slow your descent, he watches the gold shimmer again. Watches as the limb hardens further, claws thicker, digging deeper.

Spitting blood from your mouth, as you do.

He slows, balances himself. Without wings he cannot hover, can only slow his descent by a margin. His mist reaches out to yank you back. Into arms that cage around you, tighten around ribs he would normally be scared to break.

He holds, tight, and squeezes as much as he can. He feels you writhe, an angry cat held in a grip you do not want. Clawing and scratching. Willing to draw blood to escape. He feels the jagged claws of your hand grab at his wrist, digging into his flesh, tearing. Your EVOL bursts, and shatters, but it cannot shatter his bones, and he keeps the grip as you fall with him, as he ties you to gravity with him.

"Get off!" You growl, fury in your tone, and he's glad to finally see something from you. Some spark of who you are, even if it's angry and violent and vicious.

He sees a flash of light reflected off the glass of the buildings, and then he is caught and swiftly righted. Alongside a curse, and a huff.

Sylus turns to Xavier, who makes to speak before his eyes focus on you. Yowling and clawing. He reaches out a hand, only to have it knocked back by mist, "Don't. Your wounds don't heal like mine."

You snarl, "No, go on, let me slice you up." Claws flexing against the flesh you're serrating.

He'll heal. The pain is harsh, and burning. He's fought wanderers, but they don't have your mind. The knowledge of where to slice, the strength behind your anger.

"Starlight?" Xavier's voice does not waver often, he is used to seeing things that have hurt him. He has killed people who once followed him, he has fought those that were his loved ones. He has blood on his hands that burn to feel, but can never be washed off. Now, he wavers, watching someone who wears your face, but hisses and snarls to bite and snap. To cut and rip.

You kick back, into Sylus' shin. He avoids the second one, he knows is aimed to break his leg. Squeezes harder to creak your ribs. "EVER did something to them." He manages, using the mist to move the mark on your collar so Xavier can see it. He watches a jaw tick, the muscles jumping, blue starry eyes turn to ice, and focus on the point.

"We need to get them back." The prince approaches, and Sylus tightens his arms once more. If you have to be knocked out to get you back, well he can live with that. He's done it before. Hand around your throat, watching the life flickered in your eyes. Can your disgust hurt him more than the lack of any personal acknowledgement?

It is too soon for him to think, as you let out a snap of teeth at the prince, then smash your head back into his nose. The pain jolts up into his skull, so you reach your hand up, grab him by the hair and yank, then snap back one more time.

He's fought you before, he knows you. He knows you can beat him, he's been pinned by you in a test match before. Watching the glee in your eyes, seeing the fire at your victory. He has watched you practice swordsmanship with the prince. He has seen you cross daggers with the fish.

Everytime, you are cunning, you are ready to win. Everytime joy lights up your face if you succeed. Thrilled and happy to learn and improve. Crooked smile and bright eyes as you thank them for taking time for you to clash with.

It is not joy that lights your eyes, it's savage and it's gleaming. You do not extend your hand, or press a kiss to his cheek in your victory. You let him fall away from you, as blood sprays, and then you reach out with a clawed hand to rip at the prince's chest.

As soon as both have stumbled back, you turn, and you disappear.

Sylus' patience is strong. He has lived a long time, waiting, and living, and managing. It is when he has his prize so very close, that his desperation comes through. It was moments where he asked if you truly wanted him. Voice trembling and begging.

To touch, to taste, to hold, to seek pleasure with.

It was times when he had found you at last, growing impatient to feel your resonance against him. Moving too quickly, too desperately. Seeking memories locked behind a seal. Greedy for his beloved to look into his eyes and see someone worthy of flowers again.

It is the moments where he waits for your missions to end, and the message that you are returning, that he can no longer sit still.

It is when he saw your new home for the first time, a life built where he was not a monster, a family where he had nothing. Need bubbling to the surface to paint it in colours and fill it with song.

His patience has held until the last moment where relief is in sight. That it shatters, and it demands.

As he holds his bloody mangled arm, and spits blood on the floor, it breaks into shards. As he reaches out to Xavier, checking the wound, turning his face to check for others, he tears his already torn shirt to hold to the jagged claw marks.

As his fingers tremble and he shakes at where he is holding, he reaches for where his patience has gone and finds a small boy with broken horns. The absence of his calm, built on the back of his agony, lost to the fear and the doubt that circles his head.

It is the memory of the empty eyes, and the snarl that he can still hear in his head, the warm body in his hands, even though you had not been you.

You were finally so close, and now you are gone.

A hand tightens over his, the prince pulling his focus, and reaching up through the pain to ease tears that can't fall out of his eyes, "They're alive. We can find them again." He bites out, warming the chill in Sylus' hands, and waking him from the nightmare.

He will, and he'll melt every EVER building until he does. Rip the rot out by the roots, and become what Philos sneered at him for. A calamity.

Their evil is similar, afterall.

—------

He does not find any joy or relief in the information he brings back. As he watches the doctor stitch Xavier closed. Waving off his assistant. He eases the pain with his EVOL. Part of him wants to feel it, a reminder. You were there, he had you, and he let you go.

It does no one any good for him to be useless, or deeply wounded. So while the moon is still high, he repairs the damage, pushing his nose back into place. You'd told him it was beautiful, he hopes you still thought so when you returned. As the blood stops, and his wounds close, he leaves the room to shower.

The heat as high as it can go, to sear his flesh. It leaves his skin pink, as he finally turns the water off. Seeking out clothes that don't bear the ruins of your violence. When he returns to the living room, the prince's stitches are complete and bandaged, and the fish is looking at the photos he sent.

Before you tore at him like a beautiful and horrifying monster.

Had it been you, he would have welcomed your dagger and your claws.

He will not die to EVER's machinations. They will not make you their tool.

When he dies it will be because you have chosen willfully to cut through his chest and his joined heart. It will be your choice to sever your curse, and scatter his soul to the wind like the petals of deadly flowers.

Sylus eases himself into the sofa, leaning back and taking the fish's head into his lap with ease. Fingers finding purple locks and smoothing them out as they look at the photos.

He won't comment on Rafayel's feline-like purrs. He is too tired and worn. His heart hurts more than his arm did. "It was really them?"

"It was kitten, alright… Their body at least."

Zayne helps Xavier ease into a new shirt, cool hands sliding down sore skin, and turns his head to speak, "You think EVER are controlling them?"

The fish snorts, eyes narrowing, flames at his fingertips, "Is it surprising, after everything they've done?"

"That wasn't my question. Nothing they do at this point would surprise me, but controlling a person is…" The doctor flinches, and Sylus can see it. The image of you. Cold eyes, claws extended, tearing through Zayne's jugular. Blood splattering over your face, but you don't blink, or flinch. Simply move onto the next.

"Their eyes were empty, doctor. They didn't recognise or care when they saw me or the prince. They wanted to hurt us to escape… They didn't care how."

He finishes with the shirt and rubs at his forehead, trying to ease a headache that brews. It is better a headache, Sylus thinks, than him focusing on the aching pain in his chest. The fear of someone being broken by EVER. Experiments that defy morality. That twist and snap and destroy anything worthy of protecting.

That left him with twins, bearing scars. Inside and out. Who thought death would be an entertainment worthy of hunting for great prey.

That made you a child with a broken heart and a grandmother who didn't look close enough at what she did to you. Her morality flexible, because of your broken, twisted memory.

The doctor is a moral man, who believes in the power of medicine and science to save and protect the sanctity of life. That has rejected every offer for using his knowledge to twist that boundary. Who stares into the face of loss and believes dying in control of yourself, is better than living as a ghost or beast. Who has healed every wound you have held, and stitched up every injury.

Who nurses your heart, no matter how fragile it can be, or how much work it is.

What EVER stand for is so strongly opposed to the doctor, that Sylus can watch the tick in his jaw. The pain in his eyes. The tremble in his hands. The snowflakes drifting from fingertips, and the chill arching up his hands.

Rafayel removes himself from Sylus' lap, reaching over with heated hands and takes icy ones. Easing the cold back slowly, as the doctor fights for control over an EVOL that is soothed by you. It is a slower process with the fish, but it is worth it, as the chill recedes and the heat returns to the doctor's skin.

His trembling slows before it ceases, and he removes his glasses to rub his eyes, "Thank you."

The fish shrugs, sitting down next to him, ready just in case he is needed. Sylus looks down at his hand, flexing it in his lap, as he thinks about you taking his hand, pulling him forwards. No matter who he has been or will be, your hold has not wavered. It is his job to pull you back.

"We have a target." The prince exhales after downing a glass of water, looking over at him, and he nods, thinking. He can narrow down the search, look for traces, documents, records. EVER have always been simple to understand. Their methods are outdated to gain traitors, their experiments never stopped, no matter the state of the N109 Zone. No matter what destruction they left in their wake.

So he just has to find the thread back to you. While he has no intention of bloodying the doctor's hands, he has a fish who has killed those responsible for his people's suffering, a prince who has hunted any who dared raise a blade to you, and himself. A dragon whose treasure has been ripped out of his palms.

It is a foolish mortal that steals from a dragon.

—--------

Your return to their compound is slower after you've exercised that new EVOL you had been fed. It sticks in your maw, like a bitten on bone. It is uncomfortable, untrained, and aching. Your shoulder aches, your arm is covered in blood, and you need to clean your dagger.

The door swings open as you push through, slamming your fist on the wall to find the light. It brightens the room and you look down. Muscle and flesh in the grooves of your arm, sticking into the carapace. Stuck under segments. The feeling is a violent rejection. You rip the thing from you, throwing it across the room so that it smashes an unused lamp. Splattering some of the gore across the scientists whiteboard.

It is not really satisfaction at the viscera painting pristine EVER surfaces, but it is something. Or it is until a throat clears behind you.

"Little bomb, you should really behave yourself in the labs."

The feeling turns to biting fear, before you grab it by its throat and remind it. You do not fear foolish men. You do not cower to his slimy, disgusting voice. You do not run, or hide. You are not a child.

He is nothing.

You are a weapon.

"I don't recall you being the one I answer to, Leon."

You move through the room, seeking out the sink, and splashing water over blood on your clothes with one hand.

"Is the new attachment that unpleasant?" He points, indicating the weapon you had thrown. "If you want something better, we can provide it?"

The scoff isn't entirely in your control, but it does narrow the man's eyes, "You can't provide me much of worth Leon, don't act like you have any more power here than I do. It just needs cleaning. Drop it in a bucket. I'll care about it later."

"You're in a worse mood than normal, did you even carry out your orders?"

You round, dagger in hand and flick its tip under his soft throat, the tip pricking into skin, and bare canines, "When have I ever failed a job?"

He watches your hand, the dagger, then looks into cool, icy eyes. You can feel the resonance flickering, angry, uncontrolled. It is always harder to control some days. Like the sensations and the feelings are too hard to read, too uneven. You think about it failing when that man with white hair had you in his grasp. Refusing to help you break, to make yourself stronger. The panic of being held, the anger at being weak, the fury that breathed fire into your chest.

You do not know who he is, but you will slit his throat if he shows his face to you again. Tear his throat open with your teeth and drown in his blood.

"Kitten, tch." You hiss, pulling away from the scientist watching you with fear flickering in his gaze. "Starlight… What world do they belong to?" You spit at the floor, clearing more blood that still feels caught in your teeth.

"Seriously? Can you stop that?" Leon looks down at the blood now splattered on the floor, mixed with saliva.

"Clean it up if you're so unhappy. I'm going to clean this mess off me." You push past him, heading deeper into a compound that does not feel like anywhere you want to be.

"Stop, you have another order."

"Give it to me later."

"I'm here now, little bomb. You may as well listen."

It bubbles, it burns. You despise him, you don't really know why. You looked him in the eye when you opened yours for the first time and hatred and disgust and fear, embedded so deeply in your chest that you almost threw it up onto him. Leon greets you with his greying temples, and his sickening glimmer in his eyes as he stares at you, and he calls you little bomb.

It tears at your nerve and chews at your heel.

You want to tear his throat out, but you won't drink his blood. He is sullied, and disgusting…

But you have orders.

"What is it?"

"A doctor, he's wanted to do work here."

"Then offer him money, and immortality, I'm sure he'll jump at the chance." You spit again, this time aiming for Leon's shoes.

He rubs a hand over his face in response, looking at you like he is seconds away from locking you in a cage. You want him to try. The feeling is under your skin.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

It simmers and burns and you want to cut and rip.

If he wants to try to tame your fury, he is welcome to try. To send you to one of EVER's toy boxes. To jolt you, and burn you, to remind you who holds the leash. Maybe the pain will shake out the feeling in the back of your gut. Maybe they'll put you in a ring, and watch you fight someone else like you. A tool, a weapon. Maybe you'll let someone pierce your chest for once. Spilling blood over the floor. Seeking escape in the splattered walls.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

It lurches in your brain, words you don't remember, and irritation that has no place. "What on earth happened out there?" Leon finally asks, watching you wary. Good. Wary is good. Wary is careful.

"Your target had friends." You snap, dagger twirling around the skin of your hand, unbothered when it catches on fingers that don't move fast enough. The pain grounds you, washes out the voices, so you run a finger over the blade, and watch the scientist. He looks away from the blood and you almost have to laugh.

He can torture you, but he doesn't want to watch you bleed on his floor.

"Did you deal with them?"

"They weren't on my list."

"If they were there-"

This time you do nic his neck, dagger fast. His EVOL is worthless, pointless, and has no way to stop you. Not like the mist, not like it curling around your wrist like warm fingers.

"I follow my orders, Leon. They weren't on the list." His blood trickles down his neck and the scent is sour. So you push him away, turning and walking off, even though he protests, hand covering his throat, "Send me the name. I'll capture him."

The walk through the compound is full of people whose names you cannot remember, whose faces you see every time your feet carry you through halls. There are rarely new faces, a close iron grip held over tools in a grand scheme. The dagger twirls and twists, and you are given a wide berth.

Unicorn, Subject 001. It is an easy title to hold. Thanks to it hanging around your neck like a noose, you are unbothered by others. It is like you are a beast that they keep their chains around, but no one is willing to feed you from their hand.

They would rather throw flesh through the bars, and run away.

It is fear and disgust, you muse. As it should be. As if any of them are better than you.

It is bitter hatred that bites at your heels, that reminds you of every experiment, of every time waking up on a cold table, chest flayed as you are dug around in. Heart pressed and prodded.

It is your orders that keep you off that table. You are useful now. If you stay useful, you don't have to wake up in a cage.

It is the closest you can get to relief here, as though the sick doesn't swirl in your stomach still. There is no one to seek out for help, you are alone.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

Your snarl is unbidden, and you shake your head like a cat trying to shake out fleas. As if that will shake out the ghost of voices, for fools who get in your way. Bright red molten eyes, tinged in glossy tears, and star blue constellations, gazing at you in wonder.

No one has looked at you like that.

The scientists have stared at you in greed, in hunger, with curiosity. But it is not wonder, it is hungry and cruel and brings pain.

You stomach and you move forwards.

These voices will fade, you will not see red and blue eyes again, and you will forget the curling mist. 

As you enter the room you have been given to clean yourself up, the photo on the side stares back at you. A man you do not recognise, but whose name is etched into the frame. Caleb, your family… You do not remember him, your memories do not summon him. He has died, they've told you. Cut out of your life by people who stand against EVER.

Your home destroyed, so now you stay here. In a compound with cold walls… and a box of a room that cannot be filled because you own nothing. Except a photo frame you have been handed, and the clothes you are to wear when working.

You think you feel grief at the concept of not having him. You think that there are moments where something aches so deep in your chest that you can't find an answer to it. Like you are missing something integral. Seeking something out, but can never find it.

Sometimes in the shadows, when you enter and forget to turn on the lights, you think you see plushies along pillows… you have seen some with them on their desks. They are not for you though, you do not even know where you'd begin to find one.

There is a cold broken feeling in your chest, whenever you turn the lights on and they are gone. Just a mirage from a mind you think is fractured by the tests. You don't know what the feeling is, but it hurts, so you move onto another job, and move forwards.

You wonder if Caleb would look at you with disgust, to see no recognition in your eyes, to see you, with dagger in hand and blood splattered over your mouth and face.

Or was he like you? A tool to be used.

It is a question that has no answer, the dead don't speak. You will never find out. You will never have a voice answer you back, questions you speak out loud, when the room is too quiet and too cold.

So you scald your skin with heat in the shower, and burn away the remnants of the memories of voices calling out for you, and the pain. As the blood rushes down the shower drain, and leaves you as close to clean as you can get.

—------

Leon is cleaning up the blood when you return to the lab to pick up your arm, it is hours later, but he seems harried. Hair falling out from where he normally slicks it back.

You debate saying something, but decide against it, especially when you see that the gore has been scrubbed from your arm. A job you did not wish to have to handle. Even thinking about it, makes you think of the feeling of muscle under your claws. The hissed pain through clenched teeth. The arms pressing around your ribs, tight but wary. Like you would break under them.

You strap it back on, and spin the dagger in practiced claws in relief. No nics, no cuts. You don't remember who taught you, you never taught yourself. It eases you though, something familiar. A motion that is practiced and quick.

"You can get a better weapon than that, you know." Leon sighs, standing, relieved to be finished removing the mess you'd spread. So that he experiments could continue on. His finger points over at the dagger in your claw and you watch as he throws cloth into bucket.

The way he looks at the dagger makes your hand clench around it, slipping it back into its sheath at your side, and glaring, baring canines. It feels like an open wound. To be separated from it. Like it is as much a part of you as… your arm…

Itching in the back of your neck, a feeling of wrongness. It is not your arm.

Silver, and painted. A beautiful red fish swimming over metal.

You shake your head, pulling away from Leon before he can get his hands near you, or near the tool at your waist.

It is yours. It cannot be replaced. "It's killed enough of EVER's targets to be a fine weapon. Perhaps you should be replaced instead."

The bite does not agitate the man, but it does satisfy the little voice asking you to snap him. A little. There is no response but you are done with him, until a question gnaws.

Like a little beast at your heel. Demanding something.

You're not quite sure what.

"Why won't the doctor join you?" You ask, pushing some equipment to the side none too gently to sit on a table.

"Stop throwing things around, we need those." Leon snaps, "Your temper is too short, little bomb."

Your laugh holds no humour, it is a choke of a noise, that means nothing, "You call me that, and expect my fuse to be long? Unluckily for you, Leon, you are the only one who doesn't fear to talk to me. So you are to bring me orders, and answer my questions. If your things are in the way, that's not my problem."

He rubs the space between his eyes, and for a moment you get a flash. Forests, and snowflakes. Drifting through branches and alighting on white petals. Blending, and freezing, then falling.

Pushing his glasses back up, he speaks, "He doesn't agree with the tests we are running."

"You think capturing him will help?"

"I think capturing him will make him less likely to help, but surely the order came for a reason."

You scoff, but shrug, "Can't imagine what they could offer him, that means enough to make him agree. I suppose all of you science types have a price though. Something they can tug at to make you abandon your souls."

His voice is cold when he speaks, and you watch the spark of irritation. It's rare, he tries to keep his calm false mask, but sometimes. You can poke and prod. Like he is a beast you want to see bite. White hair ruffled and soaked as he laughs through-

You blink, and Leon returns to his bespectacled brown hair, and brown eyes. He speaks but you don't hear, and you push off the table, waving a hand, "Whatever." You don't want to hear it anyway, whatever he has to say won't remove the scalpel. Won't ease scars that don't disappear.

Won't mean you can lay down a clawed arm of beasts that they experiment on.

You're not too different you suppose, if you were maybe your arm would have rejected your body. Demanding something closer to home. Instead it follows your demands, moves smoothly, easily. You were told it was the ideal weapon and tool, and using it has certainly made missions easier.

It does not mean you wish to see it more than you have to.

Fabric catching on the segments of hard stone-like skin. Every sensation through it feels like it's felt underwater. Distant and abstract. A picture you can't fully see.

You step through the hallways, flexing the clawed hand carefully, as you approach the testing rooms. Inside is the usual, an old man with goggles on his head, greying brown hair. Wrinkles. He pushes the goggles up as he looks over at you, "Phi, I need my check." You approach.

His chuckle is low, and he eases you. There is something about him that is familiar, against all other backdrops of the compound. This man is familiar.

Sometimes if you stare at him for long enough, you can hear his voice telling you to stay calm.

You're not sure what it means, if he was there during your hazy wake-ups that you barely remember. Just the pain of the pressure on your heart.

"The Unicorn has wandered over finally. Come on then, you're weeks late." He indicates the black reclining chair beside him.

It normally grates at you, Unicorn. It is not a name, it is a subject title. You don't remember if you've ever been called anything else though. If any other name has ever mattered to you.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

'Cutie'

'Darling'

They swirl and then you shake, like a dog shifting water from its coat. You will not drown to voices.

The chair is cold to the touch as you lie back, but Philip's hands are steady and careful. He checks over you, scans with his tools, checks your EVOL levels. "How are the new additions?" When he asks, you can actually hear concern. It's rare… it's not offered often. He is here just to manage your health, to track it. Leon is here as your keeper.

He proclaims that he knows you best. His little bomb. His reason to be in that lab. The core in your chest is his proudest test subject.

You think about the 'additions'. EVOL's fed into your resonance, powering it, making it more useful. You think about the pain, the snarling voice that wishes to devour and swallow. You would tremble at the sensation of the heat in your core. The ripping and tearing. The gold enveloping, and the rippling power that explodes outwards.

Broken glass and twisted shards of metal.

You think about how hard they are to control.

You think about fiery red eyes watching you as you fall, and the resonance failing to come to your hand at will.

You think about heat from skin like a memory you could grasp if you tried hard enough.

You think about when it finally answered you, so you could leave the call of snapping beasts at heels behind.

Questions left unanswered. Blissful ignorance, so your heart does not shatter. You don't want to know the origin of the fever or the broken splinters.

There is nothing on the other end of the thread.

"Temperamental." You finally answer, "They're harder to control than just my resonance is. I can't call them at will."

He nods, jotting things down, as he reads. As you look at his goggles, you see a leather jacket reflected in it, but when you turn there is nothing there.

Perhaps not sleeping is leaving you as useless a tool as Leon is.

A problem to solve later, when you can finally chase out broken parts of your brain, and swallow something to ease the screeching behind eyelids.

"You need to practice with them."

You huff, turning your head away, "I didn't need to practice with my resonance, what kind of tool can't be used straight away?"

When he doesn't answer, you return your gaze to him, watching as the man frowns. Staring at his tablet, like it holds news he does not want to see, but the tablet is empty. "Phi?"

He looks up, wavering eyes, and tired bags. He also does not sleep, you remember. You've never had it in you to ask why. If he's as haunted as you are. If this place keeps him from escaping his nightmares. You could ask, or you could dig for information… You do neither.

You always do neither.

"Your tests are fine, you should get some rest though, and make sure you take your medication. Leon said you've skipped it for two days now." He extends a hand with pills shaken out into them. Suppressants, for the core in your chest. To stabilise it.

You've taken them since waking up. They taste bitter, and they stick in your throat.

You grab them out of his hand, and throw them back. You feel like spitting them back up into his face, but manage to swallow them down, relieved when he has water prepared. You down the bottle, easing the sensation of the chalky taste, and run your tongue over your teeth to clear the residue.

It's no surprise to you that Leon would rat you out. Like he thinks he is your keeper. Like he owns your soul, and your body. Not just the warden responsible for your pain. The object of your abject hatred.

The cool of the seat starts to burn, so you pull up and step away. Shoving one hand into pockets, claw loose at your side. "Anything else?" The man asks, his expression becoming warmer, a smile loose on his worn lips. The familiar feeling sparks in your chest, and you wish you could ask.

Maybe if you ask you'd understand.

If you ask, you wake up from a nightmare, and you're not sure if the outside is better.

So you shake your head, "No, see you." and turn on a heel, leaving as quickly as you can. You can't thank him, you can never thank him. He is the only one who does not treat you like something to cut open for experiments, and you cannot thank him.

Because it is a low bar to clear?

Because you should not have to thank for that?

Because you blame him too?

You do not go to find food, though there is a cafeteria. You don't need to stay here. With the cold walls. Stared at by wary mad scientists.

You have a job, you can always do some research. Something that requires the movement of your feet, and the use of your brain. Something to distract from the feelings that bubble and overflow. That leave a lingering bitterness in your mouth like chalky medication.

That make you look over your shoulder, and not focus on the target.

It is an agitation you cannot shake out, so you have to focus it.

Your feet take you back to Leon's lab, but his lab coat is over the chair, as his tools are left behind. So you dig into his pockets, and pull out his wallet. Relieved to find cash, and not just card. You could figure it out, but it's always a pain.

Instead you take all the cash he has to hand, and leave, throwing his wallet back on the table.

If he wants to demand a punishment, he's free to. If you get results, he's less likely to get what he wants.

You want to watch him chafe under the pressure.

—------

Linkon is familiar in a way you aren't sure how to word. You've been told you lived here, that you lived with Caleb in a house in a nice little neighbourhood, before it was taken from you. You've walked to the area before, and while you sometimes can feel heat against your skin, you cannot quite bring the image to mind.

Like you're staring at a static tv screen. Sometimes there's a shape you think you can make out, but it could just be the broken image, flicking so fast you've fooled yourself.

It's like desperately grabbing at something, only for it to slip further under sand. One thing you do know, however, is that your feet travel before your brain focuses. That you pass by things called kitty cafes, and hesitate for a moment. Looking through glass, and wondering what it is you're seeing. You almost entered once, before dread settled somewhere in the pit of you. Pushing you back.

A warning.

So you simply look through the windows, to watch the small creatures and the floating OTTOs that tend to them.

It is enough. Perhaps.

The acknowledgement of something that you enjoy. Or think you enjoy. Perhaps you played with Caleb.

Before he was taken away from you.

Would he be able to remind you of things you have forgotten? Records of things you should know, photos of times you'd spent together? Would he be able to spark the image if he stood before you?

Your memory just a casualty of EVER's saving your life… It is a low price to pay, you've been told. That memory can sometimes be reclaimed. That your life cannot.

You cannot help but feel like a haunted ghost though. Sparks and flashes with abstracts and feelings you can't explain or name. Things that lurk along the edges but cannot be grasped. You have nothing for yourself, but the jobs you are given, and the titles you cannot shake.

Perhaps if you keep following the path, you'll find an answer at the end of it. Even though you want to turn from it. Run the opposite direction. Would the answer even make you happier? Or would it make the feelings worse?

Could Caleb really have cared about someone Leon calls little bomb? Could a tool be more than itself? Or were you both tools?

Perhaps it was easy to exist, because neither had anything else to claim.

If that were the case, you think you could accept it. At least then you would not be alone, surrounded by things that want to twist and snap and break and bend you. Make you into a weapon sharper than a dagger.

You still await the moment they pierce your skull with a sword, so you bear the horn of the beast, they're so proud of naming you after.

It is the smell of sweets that draws you to a cafe, and you are relieved that no one bothers to look at you for your arm. Though you have passed at least three people with panda costumes, so you think perhaps, this is a low scale of concern for Linkon residents.

As you enter, money in your pocket, you rattle off as many cakes as you can read, and afford with stolen cash, and then ask for a black coffee.

You pause, and then correct yourself. Cream, two sugars.

You can see it placed next to your head on a bedside table, you can hear a snort of disgust against your neck. You shiver, the sensation of lips on the back of your neck making you scratch at it with sharpened claws.

The blood that catches at the edges, makes your panic rise, but no one is looking at you. Couples too caught up with each other, groups laughing, and people alone working. Linkon, you decide, is an interesting but strange place.

At the compound you are stared at. Watched warily. There is no step you can take where you are not eyed, as though you could begin howling and snarling at a moment. You wonder if they fear you will turn into a wanderer. Will the core in your chest make you as horrifying a beast as the Myst's that EVER manipulate? Augmented protocores giving them powers beyond understanding?

It is an interesting thought. You hope if that happens, someone will silence you quickly. Lest you lose even the semblance of you that you have.

As you find your way to empty chairs, stuffing a macaron into your mouth, hunger tearing at your edges, you feel the aggravation and sensitivity calm somewhat. The itch easing, and the feelings leaving you be.

'Food is important, sweets can fill your heart as well as your stomach.'

The voice isn't familiar, it is a whisper on the edges. It does not bite at you though. The edges softened down, no longer sharp and broken. So you stuff more into your mouth, unconcerned with the world around you. Sating the beast that purrs as you feed it sugar.

As you finally stop starving your body, though you still refuse to let it sleep. Perhaps the confectionery will do for now.

With one hand you continue to claim sugary treats, while the other flicks through information Leon had sent you.

Zayne Li, cardiologist. Highly respected, has rejected offers of work over sixteen times.

You can't imagine why he'd suddenly decide to take up EVER's offer, if he has steadfastly rejected every time they had tried. Perhaps they finally had enough money for him. Money, equipment, a curiosity. It was always something that summoned the science types into EVER's hands.

They never fought or rejected for long. Denied enough opportunities, they would come running. Desperate.

Ice EVOL, uncontrolled, appears to create backlash when used.

Ice shards, tearing through skin, ripping into flesh, and rattling air from the chest. You choke on a sip of your drink, spitting the coffee on the table as you rub at your forehead. You can feel the cold on the tips of your fingers, and you aren't sure why.

It is not one of the EVOLs that was fed to you.

Just more static, things that don't belong to you, that won't stop haunting your vision. The lack of sleep has to be the reason.

Still, to have an EVOL you cannot control… That hurts you when you do. You think of the ones that aren't yours, that have been devoured by your resonance, and you rub at the space over your chest.

The core in your chest will eat anything it can grasp.

The file gives you his main location, Akso Hospital. Kidnapping a doctor from a hospital, would likely result in more mess than you want to deal with. You'll just have to follow him to somewhere else when he leaves.

Surely he has a home.

Why it's not in the file is a question you will have to ask Leon later. You'd expect them to give you more than minimal lines.

It is not as though you will fail… failing means tests. You think of isolation rooms. Of fighting people haunted, with protocore syndrome. That shatter when you fight back. You think of the agony in your limbs when they poke and prod.

You think of shocks, and scalpels. You think of what EVER means when they make you their tool. When you are their test subject.

You think of how, even if you run, they will always be able to find you.

You think of how pointless it is to fight back, when they break you down.

You think of their buildings in Linkon, office workers who mill about with their symbols on their chest.

You think of the news reports you hear, with their technology selling to everyone you pass.

It is an encompassing web, and you are barely a fly.

EVER have reminded you, that being a tool is better than breaking.

You're unsure if that's true, but you know that death never seems to save you. You have plunged your beloved dagger into your chest, trying to cleave the core out, but woken up on a table. Unsuccessful, reminded of your place.

You are hazy, if someone stops you, if you're always being watched that they can grasp you before. You wake up though, staring around you, and it continues. You continue. Dagger in hand, EVER's mark on your collar, and given orders.

It is as you lean back, finished with your bounty, sipping the last of your coffee, that the door swings open.

"I don't think now is the time to eat sweets."

"And I know you're not feeling great, when you can say that doc."

Static.

Like in that broken down apartment building. Staring at a man who looks like a ghost to you. Slowing your dagger long enough to look.

Crackling along the edges, filtering through your vision. Overlaying so many images against the other. It is noise and it is broken images.

It is a force of a wall you cannot break through.

You look, as two men enter. Tired, drawn eyes. One you know by the file in your hand.

The other, you know by the signs and posters.

Zayne Li and Rafayel Qí.

It is an easy thing to sit and watch as the one rubs at his eyes, and the other nudges him, hand easing strain from back.

They do not know you. No matter if they pick out the symbol on your collar, there are countless EVER employees, and your face is only known to the ones you're ordered to kill.

And now capture.

Still, your eyes want to move away. Looking at them hurts. The static is loud, and the feelings are back. An uncomfortable ripping at the fabric of what's inside you.

So you stand to leave, hoping you can pull away and come back another day. It is no use tracking a man when he has company, for all you know the artist is a bodyguard in his spare time.

Complications are not worth testing with.

It is the movement of your chair, and the way you stand, grasping at your chair to push it back in, that draws their gaze to you. It sends a chill down your spine, as they look.

As forest green eyes and burning pink and blue stare at you. Wavering.

You are hit with the static, louder now, pushing down on your head, trying to drown you. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. You can't stand out. You can't be odd. Not out here. Not more than you already are.

No one has looked, or cared. So you put one foot in front of the other, and it shatters the silence.

"Cutie?"

"Darling?"

It tears at the fabric, and it rips at the gauze. The open wound in your chest. You feel the ice though skin, the water in lungs. There is a sensation of falling, and an aching where you land.

They approach, and you wave off. Claw in the ground trying to right yourself, pull yourself together. Remember what you're supposed to do. Get out, leave. It doesn't matter if they remember your face… It won't matter when you knock out the doctor and take him back.

Even if the artist remembers you, EVER can cover it up.

They've never failed to do so before.

You just have to get out. To find your feet.

Why is there so much static?

Someone kneels by you, and a cold hand touches the claw digging into the ground. It cuts through the carapace, rips at the seams. You pull away, and it gives you enough shock to cut through, to give you a door. You back up, and shake your head, "I'm fine, sorry."

You don't look at teary eyes, or stop long enough to be grasped at, you don't want to know why they looked at you, or saw something.

You don't want the static.

You just have to get back, and do your job… Then shake out the voices who call out names that settle softer than Unicorn.

[kiryoutann]

i wanted to rant about simon.

what do you think so far like what are your actual headcanons for the canon simon vs this simon from this series?

my feelings about the actual simon is quite vague. i've read far more fanfictions than bothering with the actual material so my picture of his is not really...constant? idk

but with this simon, he scares me. just to think about people that can engage in such romantic and sensual acts with little to no feeling involved.

or the mc's father. her dad makes me feel such an anger and injustice that i don't know how to express it and i know we probably won't get a satisfying update on him.

you don't like your wife fine i could understand the distance between them, but how can somebody forget their child no matter if they share the same blood or not, after all the time he raised her

leaving all that behind just to start a whole new life. how can that not eat somebody alive

OHH this is actually a good question. honestly for me, simon is probably one of the hardest character to write about because he doesn't give away too much. too calm. too know-it-all.

we're just gonna talk about the romance aspects!

but based on my head-canon of the canon simon, he has those younger years where he avoids romance, but not this actively and aggressively. it's more because he has too much on his plate (anger management issues, PTSD, depression) than because he think he's not good enough for some happiness (but he also doesn't expect/hope for it.)

canon younger (probably 6-7 years after he killed Roba) Simon lives his life without the need for things to turn out in certain ways. as he gets older (yes, the 2022/2023 ghost) and better mentally, he's become a little more open to the idea, though.

he's still not actively seeking romance, settling on one-nightstands and things that don't require any strings attached. however, he's not completely closed off to the idea too. if he has someone he likes AND TRUST (this is already a high wall to get over), he might act on it. but again, not really actively pursuing it and knows he doesn't need it.

and this might come as a surprise, but he's actually the biggest flirt out there—well, at least when it's only the two of you. when in front of his taskforce, he goes back to acting like he's the calm, collected, cool, stoic, scary lieutenant that everyone knows. can't have you ruin his reputation, right?

"it's private but not secret," with him. though it's not loud PDA, sometimes he lets his hands linger in places like your waist, your hips, shoulders. his love language is act of service, gift giving, physical touch—he makes sure to always appreciate you with compliments and love affirmations, but he's never really a man who's big on words.

WHILE THIS SIMON, hmmm.. he's a bit more complicated. and a mess. at some point, you can think of him as the younger version of canon simon we just talked about to simplify it, but even that's not really accurate considering the different ways they handle "all that sappy stuff" (as simon would say). this one actively and AGGRESIVELY avoids romance.

and while they both (my ver. of canon simon and this simon) sort to flings and one-nightstands, the canon simon is more careful and actually follows the boundaries he draws himself. while this simon outlines the boundaries, follows his rules until an interesting bird enters his orbit, violates them, and destroys them himself before he goes around saying "you read that wrong, darling."

NOW, ABOUT THE FATHER. . .

RIGHT! in my opinion, it's better for them to get a divorce actually and Dad still plays a role in MC's life rather than just leaving her. like, i know it'll still hurt the MC but, at least she can still have both of her parents even though in different houses! at least she doesn't have to feel neglected in her childhood.

okay, you hate someone you thought you would love forever, but abandoning your child? whose very existence was created because of you? talk about the Dad will come up in the sequel. hell, he'll even make an appearance with his two ballet loving new daughters. imagine how MC will feel.

sadly, this happens a lot in real life. fathers leaving and starting a new life without thinking about his "old" family. how people shame single mothers but never the absent fathers. people shame many women who have "daddy issues" or call them "fatherless" yet never call out men's incapability of being a real, PRESENT father.

[candykenma]

Hi, can I pls request Haikyuu pretty setter squad when their s/o is struggling from writer's block or artist's block please?? Thank you =D

I LOVE THIS. PLEASE MARRY ME???

Oikawa

• Honest to god oikawa couldn't careless not in a mean way but hes missed his s/o all week now.

•He literally drags his s/o from the desk and just cuddled them despite the complaints and protest

•when he realizes it's actually getting to his s/o he'll buy they're favorite ice cream. Probally door dash it along with dinner bc if he lets his s/o go it'll be right bk to work for them.

• has his s/o shower with him and face care stuff to distract them.

Sugawara

•HE SIMPLY GIVES YOU IDEAS.

• This man will read what u got and be like "hey do you wanna like have sex at a carnival?" Or whatever random thoughts come to mind after reading and his s/o will go "THATS A GREAT IDEA"

• not referring to doing but instead writing a detailed chapter Abt whatever random thoughts came out of his mouth

• if that doesn't he work he'll sit u down on the couch and make u watch movies with him trying to secretly help u get ideas

•hell show u random stuff on Pinterest or tell u stories that his kids at school told him just to try and give u something to right about

•🥰

Akaashi

• this man right there frustrated wit u

•yall both got deadlines , both got writers block , both starving bc y'all forgot to eat.

• Akaashi probally stops for ant 10 minutes to cuddle with u and rub his fingers through your hair then straight BK to work

• they're was this 1 in incident where you were complaining Abt how cringe everything you wrote sound and he looked dead at you and said "why r u making it cuddly and innocent? You aren't either of those things" 😭

Kenma 😋my baby

•once again he doesn't gaf

• if u ask him for help he'll probably tell u the BK story of a character from one of his games he likes, or just tells u to put it down and he can't help u bc he doesn't read books unless he has too😭

• The definition of no fucking help. He tried and it's cute but baby no....

• if he sees it's affecting your health he'll butt in putting u to bed or taking u put to eat reluctantly,

•he'll offer to run you a bath as well but that's Abt as much as u get

Atsumu

• just as unhelpful and ANNOYING Abt it

• it's not that I have writers block it's that u can't write or think with him in you guys room. Your actually spazzing out so much so u send him to the store with a list of things you need and want jus to write

• he doesn't mean to and u never tell him that but he definitely makes your job harder.

• though u realize u can't write when he's not around either, his crazy stories and random thoughts he blurts out are the material and foundation for ur writing

•He comes BK home and you shower him with cuddles

Kageyama

• Also not very helpful

• I imagine most of the books you write would be smut related, you'd probably be letting out all that untapped pent up energy

•he probally read one of your books once and was like "u wrote this....?" And u jus were like yeah not think Abt the fact all your books are porn on paper with some good plot here and there

• He probally started doing things a bit different like playing into the books uve read in order to give you more content. He'd take you on more extravagant but intimate dates to help the creativity 🤷

I TRIED ITS 2:45 AM.....HOPE U LIKE???

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Both Endings Epilogue

Romantic Ending Letter | Dramatic Ending Epilogue

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

"Love" is a curse.

It's the worst curse, one that should never be inflicted.

*flashback*

Emma: It's wrong to call something that hurts Prince Azel "love."

Emma: That's just violence disguised as love.

*flashback over*

(Those words Emma said one day hit the nail on the head about the true nature of love.)

(For me, love might be violence.)

*flashback*

Mother: Living God, please grant us a divine message. Show us the reality that has been promised to us.

Azel: I... don't know—

The Apostle: Everyone here is eagerly awaiting the Living God's divination.

The Apostle: God who loves his people, please have mercy on us.

Azel: ...I...

Mother: Come now, Living God.

The Apostle: Show us our path.

Azel: ...I understand.

-

Enis: Azel, we came to play!

Azel: Kamal-oniichan, Enis-oniichan...!

Enis: Whoa, what's with suddenly clinging to us like that? You're unusually affectionate today.

Azel: Am I... really a god?

Kamal: Ah, I guess the apostle said something to you again? That— geezer. Someday— I'll— I'll—

Enis: Hey, don't use such foul language in front of the child.

Enis: ...Azel, can you tell us what happened?

Azel: Everyone expects all sorts of things from me.

Azel: I want to meet those expectations, but there's so much I don't know.

Azel: Even though I don't know, I have to give them answers.

Azel: I can only give them vague answers, so I'm afraid that someday I'll give a false divine message...

Azel: A real god wouldn't have this problem.

Kamal: Sigh... You're more of an angel than a god, Azel, an angel.

Azel: Whoa, oniichan!

Enis: Kamal, it's dangerous to suddenly pick him up like that.

Kamal: You're being a nag, are you his babysitter or something?

Kamal: Azel, the people around you call you a god, but to Enis and me, you're just our cute little brother.

Kamal: To our troubled little brother, your big brother will give you this as a present.

Azel: Um... "Read This and You Too Can Become a Splendid Swindler ~Beginner Edition~"?

Enis: What kind of book did you give him?!

Kamal: Our angel is too kind, that's why he worries like this.

Kamal: Listen, most of the people who worship you as a god are greedy and only think about themselves.

Kamal: Become a swindler so they can't take advantage of you.

Azel: A swindler?

Kamal: A swindler is a bad person who deceives others and acts only for their own benefit.

Kamal: You're a kind god who only thinks about others, but a swindler doesn't care whether their divinations are right or wrong.

Kamal: Become like that. Enis and I want to protect you... Don't become a god who gets eaten by people.

Azel: Doing bad things... is wrong, but...

Azel: But I understand what you're trying to say, oniichan.

Azel: I'll read this book and study hard.

Kamal: Ah, you're a good boy.

Azel: Thank you, oniichan. I love you.

Kamal: Guh...

Enis: Hey, don't die?! Fainting from a nosebleed is a joke, right?!

-

Soldier: —There he is! It's the Living God! Secure him immediately!

Azel: I'm sorry! I was the one who said I wanted to play outside with my brothers!

Azel: I really didn't want to do any divinations today... I was tired...

Azel: So—...

Soldier: We've apprehended Prince Enis and Prince Kamal as well! Take them straight to prison!

Soldier: Those guilty of taking the god away will face appropriate judgment!

-

Enis: Aagh—!

Kamal: —Ugh...

Azel: Apostle... Please stop...

Azel: Please. I'll do whatever you say.

Azel: It's because I was a bad boy, because I didn't behave...

Azel: I'll never run away again, so please stop.

Azel: Please, please, please, please...

The Apostle: Living God... I'm sorry. It's not that I want to torment you.

The Apostle: This is also love.

The Apostle: To ensure that your noble self makes no mistakes, we must punish you severely like this.

The Apostle: All of this is for your sake. Please understand.

*flashback over*

At that time, I understood all too well.

The meaning of a god loving people, the meaning of people loving a god.

Both being loved and loving are nothing but painful acts.

I can't find any other words to describe this than a curse.

(The discomfort of being loved is still tolerable.)

(But I want to be spared from the curse that arises from my own love.)

Loving is the easiest way to make someone else unhappy.

(That's why... Emma, I don't love you.)

(I don't love you.)

-

Emma: —...Prince Azel?

I open my eyes, and a familiar scene comes into view.

The afterimage of the past vanishes, and the eyes of everyone seated at the table converge on me.

Azel: ...Is everyone here?

Kamal: Emma is here too today, huh?

Basil: May I address her as Lady Emma from now on? After all, she is the only one who has been loved by Prince Azel—

Basil: Ouch!

I throw a nearby game piece at his forehead, putting a stop to the unpleasant conversation for now.

Basil: Ah... even a scolding from Prince Azel is an honor...

Kamal: Sinan, please examine this child's head.

Sinan: Normal.

Kumush: That means there's no saving him, hahaha!

Temel: A little madness in young people helps them get ahead in life.

Kamal: Is that so?

Enis: I'm surprised though. This is my first time here, but...

Enis: I never thought most of Tanzanite's prominent figures were accomplices to a god.

(Thirteen people including Enis... no, fourteen if you include Emma.)

Present here, in addition to the royal family, are the head of the tourism association, the wealthy merchant who manages the market, the doctor with the best medical skills in the country, the owner of the famous restaurant that supports Tanzanite's economy, the competent spy who has deceived countless people, the world-renowned genius scholar, the strongest warrior...

I also gathered other promising individuals who will shape the future and gave them proof of my hope for the coming dawn.

(The god-killing plan I started alone has come this far, huh?)

(...It's been a long time.)

It all started that day when Kamal, who had been subjected to whipping, was exiled, and the light vanished from Enis's eyes—

Unable to bear the ugliness of the love the apostle spoke of, I vowed to destroy faith.

But sane words don't reach fanatics who think they can do anything for the god they love.

To escape the curse of love, there was no choice but to choose death, to kill even the idol god.

Kumush: King Enis, we weren't in important positions from the beginning.

Kumush: It was Prince Azel who guided us to them.

Temel: The development of the tourism association and the market also has Prince Azel's advice behind it.

Temel: I have nothing but respect for his foresight.

Azel: Don't mention it. I merely provided the opportunity for you to shine...

Azel: I just discovered your inherent talents and "bought" them.

Kamal: Azel, you don't realize how amazing that is.

Enis: You're still better suited to be king than I am. How about it, after being a god, why not try wearing a crown?

Azel: No, thank you. I want to enjoy my retirement.

Azel: I'll meet with you periodically and give you advice for a fee, but I won't do anything more than that.

My rejection is met with laughter in the hall.

Since when did I start to see emotions other than revenge in that scene?

*flashback*

Azel: From the next dawn, you will build the future with your own hands.

Azel: I look forward to seeing what kind of future the "human nation," free from the hands of God, will build.

*flashback over*

(Those were my true feelings.)

(...Even though I'm a god who doesn't love people.)

Izzet: Prince Azel... May I speak?

Azel: What is it, Izzet?

Izzet: Um... Shall I bring you a chair?

Kamal: Ah, hey!

Enis: Izzet... even though everyone was pretending not to notice...

(...)

(...Well, I guess it had to be said.)

There are thirteen chairs in this room—but there are fifteen people here, including myself.

Enis has taken a new seat, and his attendant, Izzet, stands beside him. The other newcomer, Emma, is sitting on my lap.

Emma: ...Prince Azel... As I thought...

Azel: Don't worry about it. I'm just doing this because I don't want to bother with bringing a chair.

Kumush: If that's the case, I'll stand!

Basil: No, I'll stand!

Temel: I'll—

Azel: That's quite alright. You are all important figures in this country, so please sit in the chairs.

(Smirking, smirking... It's not like I enjoy having her on my lap either.)

(It was just efficient. That's all.)

Emma: It would be easier if I just stood...

Azel: Ah, yes. The reason I gathered everyone here today is because there's something I wanted to tell you all.

I firmly embrace Emma's waist as she actually tries to stand, forcibly pulling her back onto my lap.

(...It's not like I want her sitting here, but there's no need to run away, is there?)

Azel: She will be involved in the establishment of the Tanzanite Book Merchants Association in the future, taking over from Akatsuki.

Azel: Emma is also a talented merchant, so I thought I'd try my hand at nurturing her.

Azel: I think there will be more opportunities for all of you to interact with her, so please make sure to remember her face.

Azel: Ah, but try not to stare. She's shy.

Emma: ...It's just that this situation is unbearable...

Emma's voice, as she covers her face with both hands, is so faint it's almost inaudible.

(How cute—)

(...No, that's wrong. Stop it. I feel like I'm becoming an idiot too.)

Kamal: ...Enis, you have many wives, don't you?

Kamal: Why don't you teach Azel how to conduct a romantic relationship?

Kamal: He was a god, you know, so he doesn't know how to treat girls.

Enis: Well... I suppose it's fine. He'll learn eventually after making some mistakes.

(How rude. What do they mean by "mistakes"?)

That's what I think inwardly, but everyone's gaze is lukewarm.

(...)

(...So this is what it means to be an ordinary person, huh?)

-

After seeing off the gathered people, the usual time descends upon the solitary desert castle.

After dinner, when it's time to sleep, I always hold Emma in my arms on the bed.

This, too, is a force majeure that started because I was tired of putting Emma back in the middle of the bed whenever she tried to sneak off to the edge. It's certainly not because I want to hold her or feel her warmth.

(Could this also be a "mistake"?)

(...It's not like I'm bothered by what they said earlier, but...)

Azel: What was the right thing to do?

Emma: Huh...?

Azel: ...Enis said it, didn't he? That it was a mistake.

Azel: What was the right thing to do in that situation?

Emma: Well... generally, you wouldn't have someone sit on your lap in public.

Azel: I told you many times, it was for efficiency.

Emma: ...Was it really just for efficiency?

Azel: There's no other reason.

Emma: Then say it while looking at me.

She cups my cheeks in her hands, forcing our eyes to meet.

I was about to complain, but the smile that bloomed before my eyes made me speechless.

Emma: Thank you.

Azel: ...What are you thanking me for?

Emma: For always loving me in a way that's easy to understand.

Azel: ...But I don't love you?

Even as I that, before I know it, I'm kissing her.

I know intellectually that this act is meant to convey love, but I can't stop myself.

Always, always—every time our eyes meet, I want to kiss her.

Even I find it baffling.

Emma: Nn... That's the least convincing "I don't love you" I've ever heard.

Azel: ...Shut up.

I seal her lips out of spite, stealing away her ability to laugh.

(No matter what you say, I don't want to admit it.)

(Even if the love I know is different from the "real love" you speak of—...)

When I look into her face, she wraps her arms around the back of my neck, looking unsatisfied.

As I entwine our tongues and caress her slender back, a muffled, frustrated voice escapes her lips.

(I don't love you...)

I press my finger against her nipple through her negligee and rub my knee between her damp thighs.

Even though I know intellectually that this is also something lovers do, my body won't stop.

(...No, this is just human physiological desire. It can't be helped, it's force majeure.)

Emma: Prince Azel...

(It's definitely not because Emma seemed to want it or anything like that...)

(It's because it's my creed to live greedily, so I have no choice...)

Emma: ...Nn... I was thinking during the meeting today...

Emma: Prince Azel... even though you say you don't love me, you're surely... more affectionate than anyone else.

Azel: Huh?

I involuntarily stop my hand and peer into her sweet face.

Azel: What did I do for you to interpret it that way?

Emma: When you were talking to everyone... you had a gentle expression.

Emma: I was secretly watching from your lap, thinking, "This must be Prince Azel's true nature"...

(...This isn't funny.)

(A god who doesn't love people is affectionate...)

Emma: Ah... Hyaa...!

I lift up her negligee and thrust my fingers in, all at once.

I delve deep inside, so that her mouth can't utter any more nonsense.

Azel: You're mistaken.

Emma: Ah, nn... That's... unfair!

Azel: I don't care.

(I just like to see people carve out their own path with their own strength.)

(I just like the moments when people laugh together and create a lively atmosphere...)

(...To call this affectionate...)

(...)

(...Will she say it?)

(No, she won't. Please don't say it.)

Emma: Loving someone isn't scary.

As if she could see right through my heart, Emma embraces me.

Emma: When I can prove that to you...

Emma: Please be more honest and love many things.

Unconsciously, my breath begins to tremble.

I kiss her hair, praying she doesn't notice my trembling.

Emma: Ah, but... I want to be Prince Azel's number one.

Emma: I want to be loved more than anyone else...

Emma also presses her lips against mine, her face bashful before my eyes.

It was a carefree bashfulness that seemed to defy the logic that love is a curse.

Azel: ...

Emma: ...

Azel: .................

Emma: ...Um...

Emma: ...Say something, please. This is awkward.

Azel: It's your own fault, isn't it?

(Love is a curse. That's why I will never love anyone.)

(...But, if by any chance, what you say is true, and real love doesn't make anyone unhappy...)

(I might not refuse to admit that I love you...)

Emma: Prince Azel—...

Azel: ...If you're going to say things like "number one," could you please stop doing that for starters?

Emma: Stop what?

Azel: Calling me "Prince"

Azel: I'm an ordinary person now, so isn't "Prince" strange?

Emma: Why so suddenly...?

Azel: There's no deep meaning.

(The first people I loved were my brothers.)

(Those brothers don't call me "Prince")

(If you're so insistent that love isn't a curse, you should start by changing how you address me.)

(Because it makes me feel clearly loved.)

Emma: Then, how about Azel-san?

(...If possible, I'd prefer just my name...)

(No, no one else calls me that, so maybe it's better this way.)

Azel: Well, that's fine.

Azel: Emma.

Emma: W-what is it?

As usual, I pin Emma down and kiss her, never tiring of it.

Precisely because I understand that this emotion, which I can't control despite knowing logically what it is, is "real love"—

I won't admit it yet.

Azel: I don't love you, so don't misunderstand.

Emma: Hehe... You're quite stubborn. Just the way I like it.

(I won't admit it... but the hateful curse you've placed on me is too strong.)

(...What are you going to do about it, damn it?)

.

.

.

FIN

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[graementality]

behold?? my full interpretation on all of the main factors of CCCC!! I don't know what compelled me to write all this but here we are. (whoops this got LONGG)

enjoy!

[disclaimer that this is my own interpretation and, while I take alot from canon, some of it will be closer to the fanon side of things. ]

[disclaimer 2 that I get all writery in certain parts and essentially write "from the characters' perspective" so those bits aren't MY OWN opinions, it's what I think they would feel about certain things C:]

[disclaimer 3 that alot of this is me stating the obvious, aswell as making them out to seem quite horrible, I promise I love them all and while they do have many flaws, they have good moments too </3 uhh ok yeah don't kill me with rocks pls]

Heart

• first of all: Heart has a huge victim complex. whether intentionally or not, he will always play the victim- he can get quite emotionally manipulative in this sense too. It can never be his fault- "he was provoked" "the other deserved it" "the other started it" "I'm innocent I'm innocent I'm innocent."

• he *can be* immature. now this word gets thrown around alot by Mind but i think he's 'immature' not in the sense that he throws tantrums and can't be trusted and has nothing of importance to say like Mind thinks. he is in the way that he refuses to listen to others, refuses to take the blame, and can also be quite petty and has a tendency to blow up (sound familiar? yeah. Minds immature too, we love Heart Mind parallels).

• he is spiteful and impulsive, but can you blame him? he's constantly being belittled and fought against; of course he's gonna take any chance he can to get back at Mind- to show him how it feels- to make him finally *listen*.

• Heart constantly feels like no one listens to him, that he is the disregarded part bcus he's "uncontrollable and unruly". this obviously forms alot of built up resentment because no one is taking him seriously. I think he can switch alot between "I need to prove that I'm just as good as Mind, I'll show them." and "they're right, I'm violent and impulsive and I'm ruining our chances of becoming Whole.". as you'd expect- his mood swings are wild.

• he is Inherently violent and impulsive. nothing is premeditated- if he's angry, he'll act on it. he'll say and do whatever he thinks will get him out of a situation or will make the other person listen.

• just the same as Mind- he is under the full impression that his opinions on how Whole should be are correct. And of course there is truth in that, emotions are a necessary part of existence, but just like Mind, he doesn't understand the need for his other half's part aswell.

• I think he very much wallows in his depression. he finds it difficult not to, but when he's bad- he's bad. he takes after Whole in that sense. he will be selfish and cruel and will isolate. he will spend all his time in his room and will be significantly more vile to Mind. he gets very caught up in his own emotions and depression, which just enhances it. (that is until things start being better and they're on their way to concord ofc, they all start helping eachother and themselves again) (this sounds mean I promise I love him, sadly I love projecting onto him more)

• there's alot of negatives here for him being my favourite character but trust me he can be good too. He's excellent at comfort, he knows just how to make someone feel better when they need it. He's empathetic, he can read people's emotions with ease and because of this-is able to understand them. Every fight with Mind- he feels his anger and frustration just as much as his own, he knows Mind gets just as riled up as him when tipped over the edge. The same goes with Soul, he can feel Soul's anger like a looming threat when their fights escalate too far. He can feel Soul's guilt and and how he relishes in the control despite it. That is to say- Heart can be kind and caring too, when it counts. he's the love AND the hate; it just so happens that he's got ALOTT of things to be mad about in his life </3

Mind

• Mind is astronomically emotionally repressed, it is a problem. he views emotions as something that holds him and everyone back from rational thinking and being at their optimal performance levels. he doesn't allow himself to get caught up in emotions (this of course is a lie, and excludes his petty outbursts at Heart, those don't count).

• ^ so much to the point that he 'removes himself of everything humane and emotional' by replacing himself with mechanical parts. no I don't think that's canon but I love this headcanon and I will die on this hill.

• though he would deny it: he is very petty, and does enjoy provoking Heart whenever given the chance. (which of course Heart does aswell)

• he is a 'control freak' to his core. though it comes off as tyrannical, he truly does think he knows what's best for the Whole, and that's why he's so adamant on being the ruler. logic is straightforward, logic can be easily worked through and used to make optimal decisions, thinking clearly avoids all possible bad situations. logic is his mainstay, his rock. (If he were to let in the flood of repressed emotion, he wouldn't be able to handle it all, and would lose hold of his mainstay whilst desperately trying to stay grasped onto it. he would be scared and lost in it all without a way back up.)

• he hides behind his apathetic facade but he *does* feel and he *does* get angry and upset and scared- and he hates himself for it. he can't be seen as vulnerable, as weak. I don't think he even knows *how* to deal with emotions either. he's spent so much time shoving them down that when they finally all come back up, he genuinly doesn't know what to do, he panics, unable to use logic in a situation like this.

• he is stubborn as all hell.

• he is Whole's ego. he doesn't think he's ever good enough and yet pretends he's the best; he believes he's the best too- contradictory I know, they're all hypocrites /lh.

• despite all these sympathisable things, he *is* cold and he *is* cruel at times. just like Heart, he has his reasons, but that doesn't make his actions justified. (make up already you guys suck!!!!)

Soul

• sigghhh identity issues x1000; he doesn't know who he is or what he's meant to be. he isn't a real person, and what's worse, he isn't *Whole*.

• I think so much of his character is based around Whole rather than him being much of his own person. his identity is a mimicry of Whole, botched together to make the imperfect Self, always wrong, never perfect enough. he has spent his whole existence working towards becoming someone else that he's never once thought to make an identity of his own- it's all for Whole, he would be nothing without him.

• he does not want to have to hurt the other two but in the end, that's all they'll listen to. he mimics power and control. he doesn't want to hurt them- but what else does he have if not power over these two? he has no control over the loops, no power against Whole, he can't do anything to stop this in the grand scheme, so he exerts control in the only way he can. he (tries to) keeps them in line. there is a large amount of guilt around that though.

• he's actually a very guilty person in general, his existence is merely the happenstance of dissonance; he and the others are born from it. he is the hubris of his Whole's misery- how could he not feel guilty about his every motion and thought, his existence itself is made from anguish {his Whole's anguish}.

• he yearns for non-existence and existence simultaneously; he contradicts himself. he wants to be Whole, but at the same time he wants to co-exist with him, happily.

• overall he is tired, he is very very tired. he doesn't have much left in him and he'll do whatever is necessary to just make it *stop* at this point. I think even after cacophony ends and the fighting finally stops, he's still on edge. he flinches at every little sound and raised voice. he wakes up in the middle of the night thinking he heard the other two arguing again, he has nightmares. he's very paranoid at all times.

• during cacophony I feel like Heart and Mind are defintely dehumanised by him. whether subconsciously or not. they become the ids, rather than his fellow thirds. they're a problem he needs to fix, parasites he needs to be rid of. he wants to get along and trust them, truly, but he never can.

• touch starved. this needs no elaboration.

• he worships Whole, devotes himself to him. he thinks of him like a god, something holy and perfect and completely out of his reach. his whole identity and existence is built around becoming him, this places Whole as the epitome of perfection. he wishes he was able to be close to Whole, to know him- but that's impossible, and he thinks if he ever even got the chance to brush their hands together his body would explode at the heat of his divine touch. yeah listen to this freak, please be normal for once in your life Soul.

Whole

(disclaimer: this is the character Whole and is in no way how I view CJ!! they are completely seperate thank yew) -

• my entire perception of Whole is mismatched ideas I've collected from mutuals but a large portion of his personality is from 'live the dream'. so, just picture that version of Whole mixed in with the weird codependent god relationship with Soul and that's my Whole 👍

• he is selfish and hypocritical at his core, he's almost as guilt-ridden as his Soul.

• he knows he does bad things, to himself and others. he hates it, he regrets it, he feels guilty for it- but he will always come back and do it again.

• he lacks barely any form of self love- of course this is going to make it difficult for him to sympathise and love his little blots- *parts of himself*.

• he is (of course) suicidal, alot of his (self proclaimed) 'selfishness' stems from this; he can't help it but its true. he's spent so long only looking out for himself, in isolation, believing that everything he does is pointless- his actions are gonna be selfish, whether he likes it or not. hence- the loop; he continues to repeat it.

• he is a chronic liar, he lies to himself, he lies to HMS, he lies to his friends. sometimes harmlessly, sometimes Very Much Not. there are times he's sworn he won't restart the loop and believed it, but of course that never lasted very long.

• he's not good at maintaining relationships- with anyone. this is why he struggles so much with Soul's unwavering devotion to him. not only does he feel like he's not putting into their relationship as much as Soul is, but he also lives in constant fear that *it will end eventually*. Soul will realise what a bad person he is and abandon him, or he'll fuck something up on his own.

• Whole has religious trauma (two wuv), and because of this he is very uncomfortable with Soul's worshipping of him.

• despite this, he still leans into it; no one's ever adored him this fervently, without hesitation, he can't help but enjoy it at least a little. both him and Soul are touch starved as hell so, it's *alot*. It's easier when they're in the loops, when he's separated from them all, from their resentment and their love. he doesn't think he deserves anything but what he thinks of himself. so Soul's unwavering love and devotion throws him off, but who would he be to refuse such a scarce thing in his life?

The Juno Incident

• ok!! I like lot's of different interpretations of the Juno incident honestly, though the ones that align best with what I think happened are these:

• Heart missed, literally. his bullet did not hit Mind. I believe he had low vision (just like me fr!!) before being blinded fully after TJI and this of course made aiming difficult.

• ALTERNATIVELY, he *did* shoot Mind, and the bullet *did* hit. Whether that was in the throat or some other place idrk, it fluctuates.

• In both instances, I think it went like this: after Heart's shot, Mind was shocked, he was scared, ESPECIALLY if the bullet did actually hit. I think in that moment, he did not have his logic to rely on, emotion- shock, fear, betrayal, anger- all of it, took over. he probably couldn't move for a few *very long, agonising* minutes, he was shaking, he was trying to organise his thoughts to best approach the situation and *couldn't*. his smug demeanour was finally broken down and in that moment he was truly *weak* (which he resents both himself and Heart for every day).

• meanwhile Heart very quickly flips from seething hatred and anger to regret, he's a sobbing mess. he's also scared- partly for Mind (if the bullet hit), but mainly for himself, mainly of *Soul* and what the consequences will be. he starts hysterically apologising, not to anyone in particular, just whoever will listen. he immediately goes into defence mode- victim mode.

• when Soul gets to the scene it's a mix of emotions. he's mad, mostly, but also feels betrayed- this is going to impact Whole, this is a setback we can't come back from, how could they do this? but of course the first thing he has to do is help, mediate, punish- as always.

• when it comes to whether or not Soul blinded Heart, I'm not sure. I enjoy the interpretations where he does, but also the ones that don't. but I firmly believe that it was majorly Heart's doing (self inflicted whilst in Apathy which I'll elaborate more on soon).

• Soul still punishes Heart obviously. after realising that Heart isn't the one that's been hurt here, and is crying crocodile tears, he quickly makes his way to Mind, who is still trying to regain his composure. Heart is obviously still screaming and wailing, and Soul now has the full picture of what happened, he tears into Heart. he yells at him about how he's betrayed them, betrayed Whole, how he's broken everything. Heart just defends and defends, cries and cries, he doesn't want to face the consequences. Soul eventually sends him to Apathy, where he can't wreck anything else (except himself). This was maybe the first time they were all equally afraid of eachother. (It will happen again, and again, of course)

• after dealing with Heart, Soul tends to Mind, who is *very* averse to being looked after (he doesn't need his pity). But he is obviously Very Fucked Up and accepts the care anyway. cue weeks of recovery and PTSD.

Apathy

• Apathy is somewhere in headspace that no one knows how to get to, they just end up there when that is where they need to go. It's a long walk, or a short one; no one really knows when you end up underground, you just do.

• I picture it as something of a cave system but instead of rocks, it's made up of decay. It smells like dirt and rotting flesh, the walls squirm as if they were alive, the floors are covered in rotting vine-like things that crawl around you and pull you deeper into the pit. Its dark and agonising.

• Heart relies heavily on sound and touch, this place is a sensory nightmare for him to say the least. he can barely see, Apathy is unable to harbour sound, and everything around him makes him want to throw up.

• eventually his own actions, with the additional side effects of being somewhere so horrific all alone for so long- causes Heart to scratch out his eyes. I hc him as someone very prone to scratching and skin picking- it got a bit much here to say the least and that got taken out on his eyes.

• I imagine he was down there for at least a few weeks. at the max a little over a month. Soul is the one to come get him, Mind does not want to face him.

The Loop

• Whole purposefully restarts the loop. for quite awhile I stuck with the idea that the loop restarts itself, like when they start fighting again- as the cycle of depression does. and while I still believe that- I like Whole restarting it on purpose more :]. It gives not only the plot, but all of the characters so much more depth in my opinion. there's resentment, there's guilt, there's it's effects on relationships and relationships with oneself. It's just overall so horribly good.

• I mainly like the way things happen in 'live the dream'. as in: Whole gets tired of Being A Person, he doesn't want to exist anymore- so he sits down at his piano and begins his song to restart the loop; the loop that brings him to the peaceful realm of unconsciousness whilst his thirds go through hell once again. and when they finally reach concord, he's brought back to reality. and it repeats itself.

• regarding memories: Soul remembers the most, which isn't saying much but yk. his memories of the loop mainly consist of the main events (split, fighting, Juno incident, any other significant things). his memories aren't clear enough to ever prevent any of this though, he just has to live with the fact that he knows something bad is going to happen, and he can't do anything to stop it. even if he did manage to, the loop would find a way to make it happen anyway. (for example: he calms Heart down before he manages to shoot Mind. Soul thinks all is well but later that night he hears muffled yelling from one of the blots' rooms, he's annoyed for a moment- just another fight- until he hears a gunshot. It happened anyway, his efforts were fruitless.)

• Soul is aware they've been through many many loops. he doesn't know how many, but he knows they've been here for A Very Long Time. he's tired.

• Heart and Mind are..somewhat aware of the loop? I think during calamity and closer to concord they're able to remember better, but in the midst of cacophony, they might as well know nothing. the battle for control and constant warring prevents them from remembering they've been here before- and will be once more. It all feels familiar, they write it off as deja vu. alot of things happen because of their 'instincts', for example: Heart's first thought during The Fight with Mind is to grab the gun; he's never shot anyone before, so why'd the thought come up? well it's obviously the most efficient choice of action- it'll certainly get Mind to shut up and listen to you. <- and so the cycle repeats itself.

• on how many loops there have been. I think it comes and goes like the cycle of depression (obviously). I think they each last for a few months up to a year at a time, and concord lasts for roughly a few months aswell. however many of those fit into the time that Whole has been alive and struggling with depression is how many loops there have been.

done!! holy shit that's alot, over 3k to be exact. these ideas will probably change and fluctuate over time but it was nice to get it all down for now :] feel free to send me asks about my headcanons of these weird little bugs, I love them :33 !!!

[oceanwithouthermoon]

I like your saiteru posts but I can't shake the idea that Teruhashi only loves the idea of Saiki and not actually Saiki, especially since she hated when he gave her a glimpse of himself when he was competitive during their date.

ive seen this take floating around a few times, this whole "teruhashis mental image of saiki is wrong" "teruhashi wouldnt love him if she got to know him" "teruhashi hated any time she saw his REAL personality" and i just dont get it because like...

this scene?? the scene where hes being inconsiderate, rude, not taking her feelings into account, making her play games she doesnt even want to play, acting like a gooner, etc? THIS is the scene you thought was him showing her a glimpse of what hes really like??? where did you get that from?/genq

hes competitive, yeah, but this… isnt being competitive, its just being an asshole. thats not what hes like when hes trying to win. him wanting to win games and show off with his powers is not equivalent to being an inconsiderate tryhard who wants to make everyone do what he wants with no thought to what they want…

but youre ALSOOOOO forgetting that she actually did end up being like… “hehe i still wuv him 😚” after this…

so.. on THAT note, i need everyone to pay really really close attention to what im about to say…

she loves him when hes rude, inconsiderate, pushy, competitive…

she loves him when hes open, popular, kind, powerful, reading her mind…

she loves him when hes gloomy, monotone, boring, quiet…

she loves him when hes a GIRL.

so why is the conclusion here “she wouldnt love him for the real him”? the logical conclusion here seems to be “she would love him no matter what”

WHAT ABOUT THAT DOESNT SCREAM “LOVE”?

and regarding her "only loving his persona the same way people only love teruhashis", i think everything above disproves that anyway but i have to go more into it because not only have you misunderstood me but this also implies you think none of saiki and teruhashis friends truly love them at all 😭

saikis quiet, boring self isnt completely not him. its still him, just a different side of him than you might be used to as a viewer. you guys have to understand that although, yes, he is masking and putting up a front, that doesnt mean EVERY part of him that people see is fake 😭 its the same with teruhashi, she doesnt have a single tangible "true" self entirely on the inside and a single tangible "fake" self entirely on the outside, its NOT completely black and white! PEOPLE arent completely black and white!

youre forgetting that me saying those guys (the kokomins and all those gross ew men) dont love her because they dont know and see her was accompanied by a picture of them literally asking her to continue validating them immediately after she woke up from passing out 😭 they quite literally dont love or care about her, not even about her image, they just like the idea of her image and want her to make them feel good. the whole "nobody sees and knows and loves her" doesnt apply in the same way to yumehara and their other friends, they may not truly see her with the same depth that saiki does but that doesnt mean their care for her is fake, because they DONT care more about her image than just her and being in her company even if they do still see the parts of her that ARE fake.

you cant just take the idea that they fake a lot of themselves around others and morph that into "every single thing people see of them is fake and every single thing they dont see is an accurate representation of their true selves", it just doesnt work like that 😭 regardless of saikis power and silliness and sweetness and competitiveness, hes still a quiet guy with a gloomy face. and regardless of teruhashis cuntiness (lol) and competitiveness and obsessiveness and silliness, shes still a sweet girl who enjoys making people happy. they can be BOTH and thats okay!

this misunderstanding is like youre hearing someones thoughts and thinking "oh what a blunt person" like well... no because not everything in your head defines your personality or is something youd ever want or need to say aloud. everyone thinks crazy things, had wrong initial impressions, etc, do you see my point?? am i getting this across properly??? saiki still enjoys sitting in his house and doing nothing but eating coffee jelly and playing video games and teruhashi still enjoys when she makes people happy, those things arent fake just because they contribute to their fake personas... saiki also would not have been singing and doing standup or whatever the hell people are convinced he wouldve been doing at the mixer with someone hes "more comfortable" with, he doesnt do that shit around anyone 😭 not around his family and not around the psychickers, so im not sure where people got the idea that her thinking he would sit there and do nothing was her not understanding him or that the way he was making the guys act was how he truly wants to act 😭 he can sing and crack jokes but he never has around anyone so we dont know if thats what he wants to do, i dont even remember him making jokes aloud to the psychickers other than being a little sassy ☠️ the most i remember is him making short silly jokes to tease his dad or toritsuka... you guys just assume that hes the type of guy to stand up and sing and yell and make everyone roll over laughing because idk... maybe you cant stand the idea that your fav might not be a sexy loud confident alpha male and might actually be a little guy who loves video games and watching people and being a little brat on occasion ☠️

i feel like this take is just you guys taking both their insecurities SUPER seriously, because what else could be making you think that ANYONE who doesnt know about his powers doesnt truly love or care for saiki??

anyway... it clearly just doesnt matter to her how he acts because she just loves him and enjoys his company no matter what. thats love.

[nerdishpursuits]

Sayeth others what they will, I am really enjoying the show. Santiago's face at Pelayo's betrayal is a poem. So was Marta's trying to deny the allegations. Santiago: She's an invert

Marta: Excuse this poor, uneducated man. The linguistic complexities of the Thesaurus Dex are lost on him. What he means is Introvert.

All in all I'm glad Santiago's demise happens the way it does. Karmic justice prevailed in a way that stings worse for him, I think. He bit off more than he could chew, filled with self-importance and secure in his triumph over Marta. Having counted on Pelayo to back him up only to discover he's free-falling, no safety net in sight? Oh, how the turns have tabled, as @midniteowlet loves to say. Could be we have not seen the last of him, though. Alas, mediocre men? Ever their cup overfloweth with confidence. Santiago vowing vengeance even as he's being dragged away by the Civil Guard? Someone failed to understand the assignment, or asses the situation. Damian reaching out to hold Marta's hand as a vow of support and loyalty? Be still my heart, they've come SO far. In my humble opinion, the growth of their relationship has been one of the best written character arcs on the show. Marta & Damian: Dairy? What dairy? He's obviously trying to milk this lie for all it's worth

Santiago: Diary ... D I A R Y

Pelayo: someone take him out to pasture … the inmates work at the dairy farm, across town

As for Pelayo himself. So far, a pleasant surprise, albeit he largely remains an unknown. He signs the business deal without making a fuss. He returns Marta's diary to her, tells her he's not read it and advises her to get rid of it, informs her his reasons for helping her are his own and that he won't ask for favors, especially given men don't count among her tastes? Well. He's been a gentleman so far, noble and altruistic. Remains to be seen if he remains one. It would seem, tomorrow's preview corroborates the theory that Pelayo flies the Rainbow flag too. His 'I prefer to form my own opinions about people ... especially people like the both of us who don't fit the social mores' ... it appears he's confessing something personal to Marta, something that might level out the playing field between them. To me it looks like he's out to gain her trust. For what purpose? Now that's the question.

If he's to become this show's Harry Cameron? I'm not opposed. Marta needs more allies and here's to hoping, as the show progresses, these two end up having a beautiful friendship. It really would be Marta hitting the jackpot in 1958: a sympathetic husband / best friend who ended up accepting her for who she was and a gay business partner / friend. Let's see where it all goes. Presently, he’s definitely trying to curry favour with Marta. For what reason, has yet to be determined. I will say? I am not liking Carmen at all these days. She acts like Tasio's mom, not his wife, as if he were incapable of making his own decisions. She's judging Marta as if she were a stranger and removes any and all accountability from Tasio. I keep repeating myself, but one questionable decision does not a questionable person make. Carmen being such a hot-head about this, while befitting her volcanic personality, is rather disappointing. I know she'll reconsider, but to think Marta is trying to buy Tasio's silence by ceding part of her shares in the company is ludicrous. Marta has always appreciated and supported Carmen within the company, and Carmen has had a front-row seat in witnessing Marta's fairness and kindness, her struggles and triumphs. I really need Fina to talk some sense into her. Volcano vs. Volcano. That ought to be a sight. Might I also hope Marta gives Fina the diary to read before she disposes of it? That they have a heartwarming conversation about it, growing even closer in their love, taking their intimacy to new heights? Because dispose of it she will, I think: sadly, it’s a smoking gun they can't afford.

Short rant long? Alright novelita. Lead the way. Let’s see what else you’ve got in store.

[genderqueerdykes]

i read your post about punkness and thought i'd ask you since i love this account. i saw a tiktok (i know not a great place already) that said that you can't call yourself punk/be punk if you don't go to shows. is that true...? im severely disabled and deaf so i can't really listen to music and leave my house, but i've always identified myself with the punk/goth scene. i know music is a huge part of subcultures so i've always felt very left out of (online mainly) punk/goth spaces even though i try and participate in other ways.

hello there!

not only is that not true, but it's ableist and lame as hell. that is so pretentious, i am so tired of online punks distilling punk to "listens to loud music". and further more, people trying to create a divide between "real and fake punks." this is just the "POSER!!!!!!" fake goth shit from the 2000s all over again. punk shows are genuinely dangerous for a lot of people for quite literally no reason whatsoever. like they're enjoyable for many, but they are NOT accessible to disabled people in general. some places im sure go above and beyond but most are organized by someone who's intoxicated, or thinking about the "wow" factor more than anyone's safety or well being.

i don't go to shows anymore. i did for the better part of a year and then stopped because i am also disabled. most of the venues are VERY small and crowded. there is no room for mobility aids. i've had to be out on the floor with other people dancing and moshing without even a cane. you can very easily get pushed or hit or knocked down and people may or may not help you get up. also the crowds get filmed without anyone being informed beforehand that there might be filming happening and that might not feel welcoming to paranoid people

there's almost always flashing lights at shows for some reason, which can be extremely dangerous for epileptic and photosensitive individuals. these sorts of spaces are hell on earth for anxious people, people with PTSD, autism, schizophrenia, ADHD and many other kinds of neurodivergence and mental illness. there's generally not really spaces where you can decompress or stop hearing loud noises for a while. i literally just hung out outside most of the venues because the music was so loud it was making my ears ring. people with tinnitus and misophonia are going to struggle greatly in these environments

alcohol and drugs are the norms at these shows. often times, minors are not carded, and are in fact given booze and alcohol anyways because the show organizers just don't see that as a bad thing. i witnessed show organizers in my own area giving drugs and alcohol to minors and not carding anyone. i was offered so many different types of drugs and offered alcohol so many times it made me dizzy. i had issues with alcohol in the past and have trauma surrounding it and being around drunk people. these environments are NOT friendly for addicts and substance users who are trying to maintain a healthy relationship with substances, or those who need to be away from them in order to heal

like you mentioned, a lot of d/Deaf and hard of hearing people may not feel included in these spaces. not only that but shows can CAUSE hearing damage and loss, due to the fact that no one is making sure that the music is being played at a safe volume. most of the time it's as loud as the speakers will go, or close to it. most of the instruments are either intentionally poorly tuned, or tuned in such a way where they sound harsh, aggressive, avant garde and unique. as a result, this can hurt a lot of people's ears, overstimulate them, or cause them to faint if it's certain tones or decibels. i know many punks who developed hearing loss due to this

i tried to point out that saying that punks HAVE to listen to punk music is ableist toward d/Deaf and hard of hearing people but for whatever reason that pissed people off. but i'd like to stress again: if you assert that punks HAVE to listen to punk music, you are leaving out people with hearing difficulties. not all d/Deaf and hard of hearing people can't hear anything at all, I understand this. but saying that punks HAVE to listen to music is leaving out so many people with hearing difficulties or those who are in danger of losing their hearing. please be compassionate. this is a serious issue.

it's not virtue signalling to say that this affects deaf and hoh punks in a very serious way. thank you for reaching out to talk about it. honestly, shame on everyone who said it's virtue signalling to point out that punks saying you have to listen to music is a slap in the face to a lot of deaf and hoh people. i hope this gives you something to think about. you really need to consider people on every side of a spectrum when it comes to a disability. you need to care about people with significant or total hearing loss, too.

anyone who tells you you HAVE to go to shows and listen to punk music is a cop without realizing it. they're policing who punks are and what they do. that's gatekeeping. that's policing others' identities. that's literally unpunk. as long as you resonate with punk ideals and aren't a cop or other kind of fascist, you're a punk. it really is that simple. it's an entire subculture outside of just the music. i get how important the music is. but it's literally so ableist to say that punks HAVE to listen to music and HAVE to go to shows.

also, not all punks have the time. some punks have a family to care for or careers they enjoy. not all punks have a local punk music scene at all. that's a very privileged approach if you ask me.

[yuzuvrse]

Can we have some of ur mouthwashing headcanons for the tulpar crew? (Can be about anything btw) The brain worms are getting hungry again I fear… 😞

-ig ill be 🪷 anon if it’s not taken yet?

HELLOOO BABYYYY sorry this took so long i was dying bc of my finals </3 but anyways welcome 🪷 anon to the family!!!!!! these hcs ended up so unserious LOL

the crew got banned from playing uno after anya nearly flipped the table when daisuke put down like five +4 cards in a row now they just stick to sorry!

swansea hums to himself when he's working, it's usually like old songs but recently daisuke's pop songs have been getting stuck in his head. (i think it would be unbelievably funny if swansea starts singing like the brainrot versions of songs js bc daisuke keeps playing them. yk like the 'oh the weather outside is rizzy, and the fire is so skibidi' LMAOSKJDSK

daisuke doesn't really have a specific music taste, he listens to a mix of everything. doesn't know how to answer when people ask him what his fave genre is so he tries to act cool and says he only listens to rap music.

anya had a wattpad phase. i can't explain further i can just FEEL it.

curly is actually a decent dancer. his mom sent him for dance classes as a kid and he has a good sense of rhythm. jimmy makes fun of him for this though so he doesn't ever mention it.

jimmy has rewatched american psycho probably more than 117 times. he watches it and he's like:

(i am currently watching + reading it for the first time and patrick bateman is literally jimmy to me.) more content utc!

anya is terrible in the kitchen. like seriously do Not let her in there or the house will burn down just from her boiling water or smth. it's okay tho i will be her housewife <3 (i can't cook either) she is also very good at tetris for some reason. she's a little forgetful so she usually writes things that she needs to remember on the back of her hands but by the end of the day they're all smudged smh. but also she always has perfect nails!

curly is one of those guys who's just naturally good at things. yk when people are like 'oh yeah i never practice' and it pisses you off? he's one of those guys. ik ppl say he's british but he's so american to me??? he was definitely the jock in highschool that every girl crushed on but he never even realised.

swansea is a dog person. he's chill w cats but he definitely prefers dogs. he likes how loyal they are, and i can see him having a massive dog like a st bernard at home waiting for him. but if his kids ever brought back a kitten or smth he'd be the one to be all 'you guys better take care of it bc i won't' but then you see him becoming besties with the cat LOL.

daisuke LOVES the beach. literally a water baby. he's very good at surfing, and always ends up with a tan that makes him look even more handsome bc it compliments his dyed hair so nicely. i think that he grew up in a big family w lots of cousins around where he would be one of the older kids, so he's very good w children as well. he somehow knows the best way to entertain them and keep them out of trouble. (primary school art teacher daisuke are you guys seeing my vision?!?!?!)

jimmy gets nightmares and thus has difficulty sleeping. he lies whenever curly asks him about it but those dark circles say otherwise. this might be random but i also think he's good at singing. in another world he could have been a sleazy rockstar but instead he went to space. are u guys seeing the visual of jimmy laying back in bed strumming his banged-up electric guitar... i hate this mf.

anyways that's all for now! i had a lot of fun w these hehe <3 hope you liked them!

[mrnightingale]

Omg I can't believe someone tagged me in one of these things??? But I love it, thanks to @sad-grandfather-clock , I absolutely love your blog name.

Last song: Ghost Town by The Specials. Yep, I started listening to Ska bc of Charles Rowland. I've always been rather secretive w the music I like bc my mom has a pretty limited music taste, so you can imagine my surprise when this started playing and my grandma said out loud how much she loved the song. She heard it on the radio on one of those programs that play music according the decade. She really is one of those "I like everything" people, I love her.

Favorite colour: more than colour, I have a specific shade I like of every single colour, but, gray ofc, and the greyish turquoise of George Rexstrew's eyes (like my blog colours). And military green, brown, dark red, magenta, and lavender.

Last book: can't remember, it's been ages (a week) since I read... But probably the poetry anthology by Becquer I gifted myself for Xmas. And if we count comics online, the Sandman and The Glass Scientists.

Last movie: Descendants 4 bc I felt nostalgic and haven't seen it yet and... It's... Different. It is the same descendants as the other movies, but it doesn't feel quite right, I would have changed a few things, like the outfits and the songs distribution along the movie but OMG MONTY IS CAPTAIN HOOK THAT BOY IS SUCH A TWINK LIVE LAUGH LOVE JOSHUA COLLEY.

Last tv show: Like I wasn't screaming it, Doctor Who xd. I'm binge watching the new series and when I finish I'm starting with classic Who. And House MD bc I'm watching it with my grandma. But I love all the ppl who said Cunk on Earth or The Good Place, they're really good, y'all should watch them.

Sweet/spicy/savoury: Sweet ofc, I have the worst sweet tooth ever, but for bakery stuff rather than sweets, and bittersweet/acid-sweet.

Last thing I searched online: "Bingle Bongle Dingle Dangle" ...well, that's before the last one, which is "findhorn case 31.08.18 film where to watch" (a short movie with George Rexstrew I haven't seen yet, if someone knows where I can watch it thank you very much).

Current obsession: Dead Boy Detectives, David Tennant as usual, punk and ballet. Like, really, my YT feed is full of ballet stuff and my Pinterest is full of cool outfits w tons of safety pins and buttons and patches, I'm want to do a battle jacket but I don't have a jacket yet, lol, I had a jean vest but I gave it to my bf bc he looked like a JoJo's character wearing it. In my opinion it was a pretty good gift.

Looking forward to: get a job, buy a jacket and, yk, take care of myself. In two months is my 18 bday and I'm still don't have the appropriate mindset, sooooo, yep. I just started journaling, see if I can keep a routine w ballet, writing and piano, workout a little. But who knows.

Ten people I'd like to know better: I don't know if I'll get to 10, if they'll do it or how much do they want to share, most of them aren't even mutuals but artists I like, but, yk, just ppl I think are nice and I'm curious about: @majorlb @alterego77 @edwinspaynes @idliketobeatree @read-write-thrive @agerblade @ouchmyghostskin @tragedy-machine @fan-a-tink @kisolvetica @asidian

10 People I'd Like to Know Better

Thanks for the tags @gaiaseyes451 and @beerok23!💜!💜

last song: Gloria by the Lumineers

favourite colour: Red, like a deep luscious red that you know would taste good if you licked it. Don't act innocent, you know exactly what I mean by that. Red is a color that you just know tastes good.

last book: I am currently trying to read the Witcher series (per @lickthecowhappy's suggestion) so I am at the start of the Last Wish

last movie: Moana 2 (I have young kidsssss)

last TV show: My oldest is almost 10 which means she stays up late. Which also means I have so little time to watch adult things. So we've been watching the Office with her. I think I want to watch the Good Place with her next tho (I've never watched it!)

sweet/spicy/savoury: Sweet followed very, very closely by spicy. Habanero maple syrup is one of my favorite things on the planet.

last thing i searched online: How to explain a 10 year career hiatus in a cover letter (looking to return to work since having kids. It's been an interesting experience so far).

current obsession: Have not moved on from Good Omens, but recently realized that my obsession may be more in my own little connected universe of fics that I wrote rather than the actual canon at this point😳. I'm sure once we get that first glimpse of red and white hair that will change very quickly.

looking forward to: Going back to work and having a more established adult life again, honestly. I've been so lucky to be home with my kids while they are young, but I am ready. And figuring out how my newfound passion for writing is going to fit into that new life of mine. Another big year of change over here for me, and I am eagerly looking forward to how the growing pains are going to make way for something beautiful beyond.

ten people i’d like to know better:

@addledmongoose, @di-42, @afrenchwriter, @haemey, @eybefioro, @alwaystuesday, @katspause, @alphacentaurinebula, @shadesofecclescakes, @ochre-sunflower and whoever wants to do it (but also feel free to ignore!)

[mrclairdycat]

Jayvik Headcanons! ٩( ᐛ )( ᐖ )۶

(You can use these for your fics, art or whatever, I don't mind! Tell me or tag me if you do though 'cause I'd love to see it/read it.)

Jayce is naturally good with kids. Viktor is awkward with them, but for some reason the kids love him. They often want touch or try his cane or ask curious questions and their parents deem it as disrespectful, but he always assures them they can and gladly lets them. He also loves to say playful lies like "Actually don't tell anybody this but I've acquired the powers to teleport. I just have to act like a normal human being among the public." Or, better yet, he tells them he's actually an alien. HOWEVER... Viktor hates newborns. He hates when he's forced to cradle them in his arms. Too much slobber, shit and vomit. You can't even talk to them and know there's some kind of understanding between you and them. Jayce, on the other hand, could have a baby shart in his arms and still be like "awww!" He also loves to play with them theatrically.

Viktor is a HUGE Doctor Who fan. It's basically all he ever watches. Jayce is more of a Holiday Movies guy or series with Comedy, Romance or both, especially soap operas, but he was once forced to watched Doctor Who and now he's hooked too.

Jayce is the only one who finds Viktor's dry and dark humor, especially directed at himself, funny. He finds it so refreshing since posh people's humor is extremely boring. Plus, he understands that Viktor would prefer making light of his bad situation to cope and it's not his place to tell him what to joke and not joke about.

Although they mostly lock in and work hard all night in the lab, the sleep deprivation makes them find ANYTHING funny. Sometimes they end up in an endless loop of laughing fits because both of them are so sleep deprived they can't properly say words anymore.

Speaking of, they probably share all their deepest secrets on a whim but don't remember anything the next day, as if they were totally drunk or something.

Also, they cover each other up if they find one of them has fallen asleep. Often times, however, Viktor finds himself magically spawning in his bed. He never thought much about it, figuring he was so exhausted he probably doesn't remember going home, when in reality it was Jayce that carried him home to make sure his body wouldn't be in pain in the morning.

When Viktor is mad at Jayce he abuses that disabled card. Sometimes he publically humiliates him by pretending he's a bad person that doesn't help his disabled friend with anything. In reality, if he tried to pick something that fell for him, he would be met with the smack of his cane.

Speaking of, acts of service is Jayce's way of flirting. He's an extrovert, but he's not confident at all. He never says his feelings first, just acts especially nice towards someone with numerous gifts, praise and help. Viktor thought he was just being ableist.

Again, speaking of, Viktor is more of a words of affirmation guy. However, when they got together, they have scheduled days within the week where Viktor HAS to accept help and be spoiled. He knows its Jayce's love language by now, so, even if he finds it condescending, he's happy to let him have those days to let it all out.

Sometimes Jayce presents Viktor a complex equation because he loves seeing him explain how to solve it. He just loves listening to him yap.

Viktor has a secret passion for astronomy. Can name you every star. Jayce has a secret passion for birdwatching. Can name you every bird. He'd also love falconry. Tbh he adores animals in general.

Viktor despises Astrology. Jayce loves it. He likes to piss him off by saying "You're acting like your sign right now."

Jayce loves pop and reggaeton, meanwhile Viktor thinks classical music is superior to anything else. He especially listens to it because it is scientifically proven it helps with focus. He hates when he wakes up in the morning to him cleaning and blasting El Taxi or something.

Viktor also loves theatre musicals. His favorites are Ride the Cyclone, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. He also loves plays like Hamlet or live orchestras.

Jayce is very good at cooking thanks to his mom's teachings. Plus he just really enjoys it. Viktor is the type who finds it a chore and eats only because he has to (he doesn't even do that most days). Jayce often brings extra food when he packs lunch so Viktor can have some too :) he also loves to cook for him.

Jayce is naturally good at dancing. Adores Just Dance and group dances (Viktor always wins Just Dance without even moving his legs). Viktor is naturally good at playing instruments. He likes to focus on what his hands can do so he can feel better about his bad leg.

Jayce loves head massages and scritches. He's a sucker for physical touch. Viktor likes to give him that while he's reading notes or a book.

Jayce is a dog person who has no problems with cats. Viktor is a cat person who kinda hates dogs since they drool all over the place and lick his face.

Viktor never cries, but when he does it's GUT wrenching because of all the bottled up emotions. Jayce, on the other hand, cries for absolutely anything, especially movies. He could see a child with their mom on a random stroll and shed tears saying "they're so happy :("

Ximena (Jayce's mom) adores Viktor. He always tells Jayce to invite him over whenever they can so he can spend less time alone and even encourages him to sleep over. She just can't bare the thought of someone's baby struggling on their own and not being taken care of.

Jayce mostly overthinks when he's trying to fall asleep. The silence is always broken by him spiraling saying things like "do you think I'm annoying?" simply for a stranger not responding after he complimented them or something. The thought of someone hating him drives him insane. He wants to be liked by everyone. People pleaser core.