#my brain cells are withering away

[bonefishbunny]

been absolutely needing to draw sumthin 1 trait escape related and holy carp that game is awsum so far

[green-again]

i have school tomorrow

[wchswift]

ଓ All Their Fault

Pairing: worst!logan howlett x f!reader Summary: When you, Domino, Logan, Deadpool and Cable went on a chaotic mission and Cable accidentally hurt you, Logan’s protective fury comes out, escalating team tensions. Warnings: slightly violence, blood, injury, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 807 A/N: I just love worst wolverine and protective logan, so i had to write this.

mdni 𖤐 18+

The mission was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out—grab the stolen mutant teach and get out before anyone noticed. At least, that was the plan as Domino had explained it, her voice smooth and confident, as if working with the likes of Deadpool and Logan wasn’t a recipe for disaster.

You weren’t even halfway through the mission before it went to hell.

“Shit,” you gasped, clutching your ribs as the world swam around you.

You clutched your side, your fingers pressing against the deep gash left by Cable. The wound throbbed, and though you tried to breathe through the pain, every inhale felt like fire.

Logan stood in front of you, his claws dripping crimson, his body tense. Everything froze for a moment. Then Logan’s voice cut through the haze, low and dangerous. “What the hell did you just do?”

“It’s fine,” you rasped, trying to sound convincing even as blood trickled down your side. “I’m okay—”

“No, you’re not,” Logan snapped, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His eyes flicked to the blood staining your shirt, and his jaw tightened. “You’re injured, and it’s all their fault.”

With a feral snarl, he lunged at Cable, claws extended. Domino’s quick reflexes were the only thing that stopped him; she stepped between the two men, her hands raised. “Whoa, whoa! Cool it, Logan! It was an accident.”

“Accident?” Logan spat, his voice trembling with fury. “She’s bleeding because of him!”

Deadpool sauntered into view, his katanas already sheathed, his red-and-black suit splattered with evidence of his handiwork. “Yeesh, Wolvie, chill out. We all make mistakes! Even the big Cable guy here, right handsome?"

Logan ignored him, still focused on Cable. “Wade, shut up!” Domino snapped, throwing him a withering glare before turning back to Logan. “Logan, we need to finish the mission. Get her out of here. We’ll deal with this later.”

Logan hesitated, his claws still extended as he glared at Cable.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Cable said, his tone as calm as he could manage. “But if you want to waste time settling this now, go ahead. Meanwhile, reinforcements are on their way, and she’s losing blood.”

“Logan,” you started, your voice strained. "We’ve got the thing. Let’s just go." You said softly, stepping closer. “I’m okay. Really.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re bleeding all over the place. That’s not okay.”

“I’ll heal.”

“That’s not the point.” Logan turned back to you, his claws retracting with a snikt, though his hands remained clenched into fists.

He took another step forward, getting closer to the other man. “Next time, you think twice before touching her.” His voice was low and cold, a promise of violence barely held in check.

Deadpool clapped his hands together, breaking the tension with his usual flair. “Okay, great, let’s wrap this up before Wolvie loses what’s left of his brain cells. Dom, got the tech? Check. Pumpkin, still breathing? Check. Me, still incredibly handsome? Check. Let’s roll, people!”

With a final glare at Cable, he turned and knelt beside you, his movements careful as he slipped an arm around your shoulders. His hands were rough but surprisingly gentle. “Let’s get you out of here,” he muttered, his voice quieter now.

“You didn’t have to fight him,” you muttered as he helped you to your feet.

Logan didn’t respond right away. His face was set in a grim scowl. “He shouldn’t have touched you,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly. “If he wasn’t on our side, he’d be dead already.”

You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “You really know how to hold a grudge, don’t you?”

“Damn right I do,” Logan said, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “Especially when it comes to you.”

Ahead of you, Deadpool turned back, walking backward with a theatrical flourish. “What did I say, huh? Logan’s basically a rabid guard dog when it comes to Pumpkin. I love this dynamic.”

Logan glared at him. “Wade, shut it before I lose my patience,” He growled.

Deadpool threw his hands up in mock surrender, but the grin under his mask was unmistakable.

By the time the team emerged into the night, the tension had started to fade, though Logan’s scowl remained firmly in place. He didn’t say much as he helped you onto the team’s getaway vehicle, but the way his hand lingered at your back told you everything you needed to know. He might’ve been rough around the edges, but in your eyes, he was exactly who you needed him to be.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[wafflesrisa]

I am literally begging these people to use 1% of their brainpower before they hit post

Be SO for real

[lethaldefect]

Very specific and random headcanons about Aaravos, his time in prison and his condition after being released:

(with a special dedication to @purpleguyssimp and all my mutuals. I hope you enjoy it ♡)

the dimension he was trapped in contained nothing but the sky and a stretch of land. The landscape never changed or ended. Wherever he went, everything always looked the same. The only point of reference was the house, a perfect replica of the house he had lived in with his daughter many years before. And no matter how hard he tried to escape it, all roads always led to this house.

in this dimension, nothing changed, and nothing could be controlled. Always the same time of day, same season, same temperature. No rain, no wind, no snow. No real sun, no real stars.

he was the only living creature there. No birds or other animals. In the centuries he had spent here, he had never seen even the smallest fly. There were only a few plants that seemed to be frozen in time - always the same. They never withered, never lost their leaves, and when he picked one, a new one appeared in its place after some time. Identical one.

the magic in the prison kept him alive. The prison provided everything he needed. A garden with plants from which he could make his own dinner, running water, and access to a fire. Although he wasn't really hungry, sleepy, or cold. But he ate—the same thing over and over again every day; he slept—to stave off boredom; he lit a fire in the fireplace to keep warm—when his mind played tricks on him and he felt as if he were freezing.

every day was practically the same. And he always remained the same as the day he was imprisoned. The same hair, the same clothes... even if he tried to change something, cut his hair or alter his clothes, after a while, everything always returned to its original state. The same as the interior design of the house and its furnishings, which, no matter how much he vented his anger on it, always returned to its previous state.

because the purpose of the prison was to keep him alive, he didn't get sick (because there was nothing to even get sick with) and he couldn't hurt himself. And he tried a lot of things. Every wound, whether it was a paper cut or the fatal wounds he inflicted on himself during those worst moments... everything healed almost immediately. Even the pain was taken away from him.

there was only him. Alone with himself, his intrusive thoughts and his fragile psyche. Alone in a house that he had abandoned long ago, but here it still bore the marks of his old life and Leola's presence. Alone in a house that looked exactly as it had on the day his daughter was taken from him.

the only real difference was the huge mirror hanging on the wall in the room that had once served as his office. A mirror through which he sometimes saw Avizandum watching him, enjoying his suffering. A mirror that always looked at him as if mockingly and reminded him of the fact that on the other side, life went on. Without him.

escaping from prison was a salvation, but at the same time, his greatest punishment.

after centuries spent in an unchanging, constant environment, the collision with the real world was a shock to the body.

he was oversensitive. The outside world was full of stimuli he had forgotten about. The lights were too bright, the sounds too loud, the tastes and smells too intense. The water was too cold, the grass too prickly, the clothes too rough... it was always cold or unbearably hot.

he had become so unaccustomed to the touch of others that after regaining his freedom, physical contact was simply painful. The slightest touch caused his brain to tell his body to react as if he had been bandaged or electrocuted.

his entire body ached. As if he had just taken a spectacular fall from the very top of Storm Spire that even Viren would be proud of. He could feel every bone, every muscle, every tiny cell in his body... and everything radiated with pain so intense it sometimes took his breath away.

the first few weeks after his release were like a fight for survival. Constant migraines, insomnia, stomach problems, general weakness... He was frustratingly weak. He couldn't stand straight, and at times he fought to stay conscious.

magic didn't help. In prison, his magic was significantly limited. And after leaving, it returned with all its power and was as unstable as if he was using it for the first time. Although the muscles remembered how to cast spells, the body received them at least several times more intensely, which was not good in his condition.

he was overwhelmed. And so terribly tired. Weakness and centuries of isolation had caused him to catch all sorts of diseases like a baby in a nursery during the winter.

it was also frustrating that the world had changed... and he had been left behind for 300 years. People spoke dialects and languages ​​he didn't know. They used words he didn't understand. New cities and settlements sprang up. Those he remembered from his youth had long since disappeared. It was still the same world he had left. The same magic he had mastered. And yet everything was so different that he felt like a stranger in the place that had once been his beloved home.

but he had to go on. As much as he could. He had so many things to do. For Leola. And for Claudia.

Congrats to everyone who made it to the end of this 💜 Sorry if there are any mistakes, English isn't my first language...

I forgot how much I like writing headcanons. I really hope you enjoyed it. I can write more if you want. I also accept requests.

Anyway, feel free to discuss in the comments, or you can just text me in dm 💜

[unintentionalseductress]

prompt 22 with violinist gojo and piano accompanist reader (theyre kindof rivals,, reader hates gojo for being reckless during competition) feel free to skip if it's too complex 👉👈

Ok I love this! Thank you anon for this unique and really cute request.

--------

The smooth sound of musical notes flows through the concert hall. Famous violinist Gojo Satoru, and you, a piano prodigy who built up your reputation score by score.

To an outsider, the two of you seemed to be in harmony, perfectly in sync with each other's music. The sounds crescendo and soar, then slowly end, the quivering final pitch from the violin hanging in the air.

The crowd erupts into applause and both of you bow before exiting the stage. Once away from the public eye, you round on Satoru.

"Your pitch was off."

"What?" Gojo gives you a withering look. "No I wasn't. It was perfect."

"It needed to be louder."

"No it didn't. You need to stop slamming on the damn piano keys."

"Excuse me?" You ask scathingly. "It's not my fault you're deafer than a doornail!"

The two of you start bickering back and forth, before Satoru finally snaps and drags you into one of the dressing rooms backstage.

"Satoru what the f-" you're caught off guard as Satoru crushes your mouth with his, slipping his tongue inside, the taste of him teasing your senses.

He hoists you into the dressing table, your back pressing against the mirror, your dress being rucked up past your thighs. Not bothering to be delicate, he rips your stockings at the crotch ignoring your protests.

Your panties are hooked to the side and he rubs your wet slit, making you gasp and buck your hips, then you let out a lewd moan as he shoves two fingers into your fluttering core.

You try to suppress your noises but with a wicked grin Satoru mercilessly fingers you, curling up and pressing your on g-spot relentlessly.

"Whats the matter?" he asks, smirking depravedly. "Why are you being so quiet? Weren't you the one bitching about needing to be louder?"

His thumb finds your clit and applies firm circular pressure, and you nearly lose all self control, singing your pleasure and voice keening louder and louder until you explode from the pleasure, walls spasming on his fingers, a ring of cream forming at the base of his fingers.

He licks his fingers clean, his face smug as he looks at your fucked out expression. With your remaining brain cells you bite out , "Your fingering needs work."

"I plucked your g-string just fine." Snickering at the indignant expression on your face he waltzes out of the room.

[lost-in-time-marie]

Life sits somewhere just between the fused ends of two swords, a piercing and cataclysmic double edged blade. Maybe it’s because I tasted poetry this morning. Just for barely half a second, the afternoon golden rays of sun caught the bright, magical yellow of the trumpet flowers, the breeze rustled against the petals, like a shimmer on water, shivering in all the clear and stark baby blue expanse. Winter whispers a last caress as it moves on to his next lover. The most fleeting sweetness in the mouth, warmth in your belly, and bracing breath in your lungs. And in the next instant, as quick as the car rushing forward and on, it was gone.

I could never decide if I was gifted or cursed by the sight. It tore me apart, time after time after time, my heart breaks daily to hold evermore wonder. I read that quote once a long, long time ago now. And it sliced through me then, a gasp of air stolen from my lungs, just as it does today. For all this raw and heart breaking and incredible beauty, there is equal tragedy, pain, and suffering.

I can remember being 8 years old sitting on the ledge of my window looking over the town, and I would fall apart in sobs about how beautiful and short and tragic each person’s life was, just like mine and not at all like mine, and I would cry for us. For all the miracles of this wide and wild universe going unnoticed, unappreciated, for all the other people who can see out there and don’t know if they’re alone, I cried for us, because somebody had to. My soul was plugged into the core of the earth itself and I spilled like a tap all that unspoken love and pain. And no one knows what it’s like to feel like that. To choose love every single time. You had to choose it every single day, even with gritted teeth and bloody knuckles, you tried and you chose it. Until it kills you, until some day years from now your body literally withers away, a forgotten plant left to starve, dried out and alone. To know that you were born different and not hate the world for it. To know that there are worse people in this life, and better, and still love them anyways, still look after them anyways, whether they knew or not. Because it was never about them knowing, it was simply right.

Intuition is an incredible thing to me. There has to be something scientific to it, even if we haven’t completely figured out how it works yet. I know what feels right, my body tells me what feels right and I know it in every cell and muscle fiber and electric cardiac tissue. Some things are right and feel good, so good, there’s no denying the wild pleasure. And some things are right and are hard, and don’t feel good all the time or maybe at all. We chase that wild folly until ruin, only doing what feels good. But you need more, always more, and each little inch gets harder and harder and harder to wring out of the brain like a dirty rag. If the universe proves anything over and over and over again, it’s that. Balance. We have each been on the upswing and the downswing of that double edged blade, we have each been it’s wielder and its victim, and you have to choose to let it move as it does, to not turn the blade on each other because that blade once scratched you.

~K.

[prismaticpichu]

Thinking about degrading!Seph again, and now I’m wondering what would happen to the man’s hair in a world where Sephiroth did indeed cellularly rot. Would it just gradually lose its luster? Would nothing change at all? Would his hair not even be silver to begin with, given that his Jenova cells are now messed up…?!

Or, perhaps, he reverse degrades, meaning his hair slowly withers away to a humanlike brown that very much resembles a photograph he had long lost~

Ofc, by the time he fully resembles Lucrecia, he’d be too far gone to even think straight ( ´･ω･)

Idk man I’m writing about Seph’s hair, what do you expect from my own degrading brain xD

[funktechnisch]

thoughts about viktor acting "out of character" in act ii

spoilers below!

the hexcore is clearly sentient in some form. i'm not a fan of cult jesus viktor, but i think the reason he feels so out of character is... intentional?

the first time he tries to go against it, it takes away the ability to walk it gave him back. when he tries to destroy it, it kills sky. it's clearly "alive" enough to fight back, but i think it's alive in the way that a virus is alive.

i think beyond just influencing viktor and dampening his emotions after the hexcore fuses with him, i think it's also almost like a parasite taking over a host body. the way viktor talks about "cold", like a "recursive impulse", sounds like the hexcore being in a human body for the first time and experiencing the way neurons communicate things like cold and touch to the brain. i think the hexcore also was speaking moreso than viktor when he said affection held him and jayce together-- whether it was intentional or not, that feels like an observation from an outsider's perspective on why viktor has acted the way he always has around jayce

i also say all of this to say that i think the hexcore knows it can't keep punishing viktor to get what it wants. i think it's using viktor's idealized version of zaun, one that has all the resources it needs and a cure for things like shimmer's side effects as bait for viktor. it's giving him the ability to do the things he's always wanted to use hextech for, and i personally think it's using sky as a manifestation to persuade and push him to keep going even when he might stop.

i think the hexcore, like a virus, needs organic matter to grow and expand. i don't know if arcane is going to hand wave away physics, but if it doesn't, matter and energy can't be made or destroyed. you can only covert one to the other; the hexcore may not be able to grow without a host of some kind. it "reached out" to viktor's blood, and it sapped the life from the houseplant viktor tested it on.

i also think it's acting like a virus because of the way it manifests in the people viktor cures. viruses don't have the capability to reproduce by themselves and require a host to replicate their dna and continue to persist as a species. i think it's pretty clear that whatever viktor is doing to heal people is altering them permanently, and to me, it reads like a change in their dna-- just like how some viruses permanently alter their hosts' dna! the herald's followers also all wither away and die once the hexcore is destroyed by jayce-- it's like a weird mix of a colony organism like a mushroom and a virus.

there's also a few aesthetic reasons i think that too. piltover is clearly inspired by art deco, which is a movement that emphasized beauty in technological progress and modernity. it's all mechanical, man-made, sleek, and symmetrical. art nouveau, on the other hand, emphasizes natural forms and the "flow" of structures found in nature. viktor's entire cult compound looks like art nouveau threw up on clusters of cells. and on top of that, there are splotches of the same pattern the hexcore causes inside of the hexgate and on the cog viktor kept (on one side). there's a clear distinction between that compound in the heart of zaun that feels like an alien organism in stained glass and the man-made beauty of piltover

(left image from here, right image from here)

also from a design standpoint, the way the hexcore was designed feels like the head of a bacteriophage. it's a cluster of runes holding the actual arcane whatever-the-hell-this-is inside, just like how the head of a bacteriophage is a protein shell holding in the genetic material

(left image from this site, bottom right image from this paper)

my hope and what i think ultimately is going to happen in act 3 is that singed is going to bring viktor back as the machine herald. the scene in s1 with the machine herald tarot-type card also has the death card underneath it, and i'm hoping viktor regains that sense of self and agency without the hexcore's influence (i have to assume all of the parts of him that were affected by it will be replaced by metal). the first part is all but guaranteed with the way singed spoke of him and vander/warwick (that viktor had to survive no matter what, calling back to how he treated rio when viktor was a kid)

otherwise if jesus moses cult viktor is just how he is now i'm going to become a teemo main

edit// two of the paragraphs got eaten when i copied the images over

[demonfox38]

Completed - Vampire Survivors (Base + Ode to Castlevania DLC)

This game makes my brain scream at me.

Like, okay. I'm an average office worker. If I'm not in a meeting, I've got something from YouTube running in the background. Music playlists, video essays, whatever. So, in agreement, in disagreement, whatever—the terms "hauntology" and "dopamine addiction" are consistently in my short-term memory thanks to the video essay portions. The rot of culture by failure to let new ideas bloom, clinging to nostalgia and old symbols. Taxing and abusing neurotransmitters in search of instant happiness. Fun, happy things to ponder while I try to burn these hours of my life away.

Do I think either are threats? Well, unchecked nostalgia, definitely—especially when it's faux 1950s Americana influencing law to restrict the rights of others. Dopamine addiction is a bit more of a mixed bag. Like, you've got to create habits of maintenance, absolutely. Cooking, cleaning, exercise, grooming, so on. But, if you're clever, you can figure out how to use your reward system to help support these habits. Starving it or trying to obliterate it won't help, especially if it causes rebound issues. It's just…ya know. Gaining an appreciation for slower processes over instant gratification and deriving lessons from the struggles of life over bodily abuse and obliteration.

I bring these topics up because I got both "Vampire Survivors" and its "Ode to Castlevania" DLC for the cost of a goddamn cheeseburger. This pixel-exploding throwback of a game lasted me for over 100 hours. Drug dealers and fast-food restaurants would wither and die at such a nexus of cost and effectivity.

Some killjoy could do real numbers discussing hauntology and dopamine addition as the subjects apply to this game.

Should I have gotten into "Vampire Survivors" sooner? Possibly? The communal vibes I absorbed on it were nothing but praise. I don't know if I would have felt brave about trying a Rogue-like prior to playing "Baroque," but I do enjoy a good ol' fashioned bullet hell / shooter, from time to time. It might be lame that it literally took the announcement of a "Castlevania" DLC for me to give this game a try, but hey. This DLC did better about pulling me in than "Dead by Daylight" or "Dead Cells" did under similar circumstances.

What's "Vampire Survivors" about? When I figure that out, I'll get back to you. Most of the narrative I'm picking up is derived from a mix of stage names, enemy bestiary entries, and the surnames of the characters I unlock. Generally speaking, it's about Belpaese and Ladonna kin coming together to endure waves of monsters until the cold, clammy fingers of death come for them. And then, finding a way to break past their power. The powers behind them. The limitations of space and time. Research gone horribly wrong, time and time again. Creepy things hidden at the bottom of towers. Fallen civilizations. Corrupted religious sects. Milk-based magic. Ya know. Wholesome stuff!

In another world—with another particular video game company and their infamously litigious team of lawyers—"Vampire Survivors" may not have made it past its first year. It's not hard to see what game series may have inspired the creation of its lead whip-wielding fighter of the undead. Arca Ladonna may be even more egregious in the video game celebrity look-alike competition. (Don't even get me started on those Blue Venus creatures!) But, the aesthetic inspiration certainly doesn't stop at Konami properties! "Bayonetta", "Batman", "Okami", "Sonic the Hedgehog", "Mortal Kombat"—there's gonna be at least one situation you'll have where you end up snorting with laughter with how close to the copyright line this game rides.

Also, "Vampire Survivors" is the most Italian video game I've ever played. Like, yes, tee-hee on "La Borra" and "Testa di Mano" enemies. Nothing is as fucking authentically Italian as naming a character after Cristina D'Avena. Like, goddamn. How do you top that? Make a stage based on the set design for Dario Argento's "Suspiria" and "Inferno" films? Have playable knockoffs of "Lupin the Third" characters? How about an entire race of sentient ducks running parallel to human society? Call their main hero Duckabolik or something. Goddamn.

Although, there were those ducks in space…

So, I put an RPG's worth of hours into the game without getting much in the way of plot. Obviously, something else is keeping me around. How about that core gameplay loop? It starts simple enough. Move your dude up, down, left, and/or right as needed. Hit enemies with attacks. Pick up gems. Level up. Repeat until you die or you hit 30:00, at which point the game sends a Reaper after you to finish you off for good. Run the game again, continue grinding up weapons, unlock more people and levels, etcetera. So goes this song in a round.

You determine your own progress with this game through the Achievements screen. Look at what items remain, make your next goal, and finish off what you can in your next game. Progress will remove some tasks from this list, but it may add others as more opportunities unfold. Empty out your Achievements? Well, guess what? You'll get an extra round of tasks in a brand-new Secrets screen as well! Clearing that may not get you bonus trophies in Steam, but it may get you some additional levels and characters, too. Ditto the Adventures mode too, while you are at it!

Actually, the Adventures mode is pretty strange, if you don't have other DLC for this game. It's really only two stories? Weird. Seems underutilized. Kind of strange that Konami didn't pitch something for this mode, too…

If you're looking for a general overview of tasks to complete, this may help:

Get through the first five game maps, performing well enough to unlock their Hyper Mode options.

Trigger and kill the special boss in Moongolow.

Pick up the Yellow Sign and use that to start killing Reapers.

Kill the special boss that now spawns in Capella Magna.

Gather all base relics (including defeating the damned Sketamari.)

Harass the final boss for two more relics.

Fight the final boss.

It helps to experiment with different weapons and passive items. Leveling up different weapons unlock different characters, so that makes it an easy sell. Using the correct combination of passive items with weapons may also augment the weapon, giving it different (usually better) properties. Getting proficient with different characters may also unlock Arcana cards, which can grant your character with random bonuses while in a battle. Long story short—don't go stale, and neither will the game.

Also, "Castlevania" fans: go look at the names for those Arcana cards. Come back when you've face-palmed.

Most of the game's complexity comes from making your randomly-assigned resources count. The enemies are simplistic, just ambling towards you. The pressure comes more from managing distance from them and your own powers as the enemy's strength grows over time. (Honestly, the biggest difficulty spike may just come from not getting a Garlic weapon, of all things.) Sketamari is the most complicated creature I had to deal with, and that was more building a viable weapon stack in a short amount of time and preventing any interlopers from building it up than anything else. Everything else is…well. Dodge the shit and don't get touched. Video Game Rules 101.

While aesthetically simple, the game is a glory when it comes to CPU resource management. Lesser machines could not handle the glut of objects and particles being rendered on screen, particularly in later parts of a level. I suppose a creature doesn't need more than three frames of animation when a hundred or so of them are being rendered on screen at once. It's amazing this game is as stable as it is, for all of what it is doing. I've had it chug once, sure. Even had it lock up my computer, one time (although one of my poodles was a contributor to that mess.) But, man. Whatever is going on with managing the location, health, and appearance of all on-screen objects is nothing short of technomancy.

The music is also pretty solid, too. Loops well; doesn't get distracting. Honestly, it sometimes gets crushed by the sound effects, but you can adjust the audio and music tracks to balance it out. I appreciate the soundtrack not being above having a joke or too, as well. (Remember: this is an exceedingly Italian game.)

With this game, you need to pace yourself. If you get every run perfect, you'll be spending somewhere between 15-30 minutes in intense play. (Assume you'll be more on the longer end than shorter.) The circular motions you'll be making can be taxing on your thumbs. Make sure to get up, stretch, and rest your eyes and hands every hour. Your body will appreciate it.

Also, seriously. Take the game's flashing warning to heart. You can adjust some settings to ease up on what is being rendered, but the game is designed to burn like a comet. There's gonna be tons of debris shearing off it, and you do not want that scalding your eyeballs.

For those of you hopping in via House Dracula, the DLC "Ode to Castlevania" provides an additional map, as well as…well, the marketing says 40+ weapons and 20+ new characters, but let me tell you. That plus sign is hiding a lot. Like, 90+ pieces of music, 25 bosses, and several dozen new enemies. Damn.

Much like the base game, you're not gonna get much more in the way of plot. It's mostly pushing as far as you can in a single go, punishing bosses as you gather the strength to tackle them and unlocking your Belmont, Belnades, or buddy of choice. However, there is a fun little treat at the map's end regarding the English opening cutscene of "Castlevania: Symphony of the Night" and Death being a goddamn nightmare. Like, damn, dude. I know the breakup of a bromance that lasted a millennium was rough on you, but this is not the best way to react.

Because of the map's ungodly size and number of tasks to tackle, you'd be better off making good headway into the main game before tackling this. At the very least, it will help you to get that time limit lifted with an Endless mode unlock. (You can also eventually invert the castle, if you're into that.)

The loop here is more like:

Unlock Belmonts (generally, in order of timeline, with a few exceptions.)

Use Belmonts to unlock ally characters, beat bosses, and unlock parts of the map.

Push forward until you finally get Richter.

Use Richter to fight Death.

Max out your new wave of characters.

Fight new bosses.

Find the Pile of Secrets and Wood Carving Score.

Continue until all secrets are exhausted.

That should hold you out…Oh, I don't know. A good 50 hours or more?

I can't get over how deep this DLC digs into "Castlevania" characters and songs. Finally, in 2024—after getting booted from two other games!—we have a playable Hammer. And a playable Mina Hakuba. LMAO. I know people didn't have her on their bingo card, but damn. There are all kinds of playable characters here that I never expected to see, whether in terms of capabilities, story fates, or just coming out of the wrong division of Konami Computer Entertainment. I don't know who wanted a playable Vincent, but uh…there you go. Congrats to you.

I mean, what? Am I supposed to be a shithead and ask for the merchant from "Harmony of Dissonance" or someone from Wygol Village? Fucking 80 goddamn characters, and two are the final Sorrow cast members that I was missing. And fucking Quincy Morris of all goddamn people, now that the copyright for Stoker's "Dracula" has gone to hell. Screw it. I'm take the W and leaving on this one.

With the way Quincy looks in this game, doesn't he look a bit like the North American cover of "Castlevania Bloodlines"? It's making me question some things about that box art…

The DLC takes a fair amount of flexibility when it comes to cast powers. Like, you're not gonna get soul or power absorption with Shanoa or Soma, but you are going to get unique boosts for each cast member. Every Belmont gets a unique way to use their whip, so that's neat! A great way to prevent stagnation, for sure. And, hey. Don't like the default weapon your character starts with? You can switch that out eventually, too. Just gotta prove your competence. Meet some achievements. Do the "Vampire Survivors" grind.

Most of the "Castlevania" remixes are pretty solid as well. Just take a YouTube playlist already. Enjoy. (I was particularly tickled by "Wood Carving Partita" and "The Sinking Old Sanctuary," for what that is worth.)

Now, the songs aren't exactly paired with the characters you may expect. Like, Christopher Belmont gets "Beginning", which then throws "Trevor" into "Aquarius", throwing Sypha and Yoko off, and so on. If you get the Magic Banger relic, it's no big deal to correct. It's just funny how preconceptions can make cool music otherwise seem off.

There was one major part that actively pissed me off with this DLC, and it was unlocking Camilla. The flavor text on her unlock secret implies that a Belmont needs to kill her off (either Leon, Simon, or Sonia, whomever you consider the "first" Belmont to be.) The actual method of unlocking her is hitting her with a Nightmare spell. Like…okay? I'm hoping that'll be patched out later, but man. Wasting hours on that only to find out I was being misled was annoying.

I can't say the sweat needed to unlock Brauner was worth it as well. He isn't as immediately frustrating, but he takes way more time than seems necessary. Just go toss the Blood Astronomia and some compatible weapons on Dracula, get him up to the gallery, level him to a stable point, and park him for a couple of hours.

As shit tier as 2024 has been personally, I can't help but be comforted with the "Castlevania" game releases this year. The "Dominus Collection", the "Dead by Daylight" DLC, and the cherry on top, this. I shouldn't have needed such an incentive to play "Vampire Survivors," but I was more than happy to go hog-wild on this game and its DLC. God bless the development team for this game. They may have developed the digital version of a stimulant drug that makes my hands and brain scream, but I can only hope the best for them.

Good people put their fan translators in their credits, man. And poncle's staff…them's good people, that's what.

The base "Vampire Survivors" is currently available for $4.99 USD on Steam, although that price tends to frequently dip down a dollar for seasonal sales. "Ode to Castlevania" tacks on another $3.99 USD. There are additional levels of DLC and expansions past that point, if you want more. I'm not certain if you'll find more vampires to survive, necessarily, but at least you've got, like, actual vampires to survive now. Which, apparently, is a whole ass meme I didn't know about before!

What's the official count on that now, anyway? You don't fight Dracula, so I don't think you can count him. But, there's Walter, Joachim, Carmilla, Orlox, a Jiang Chi, Stella & Loretta…actually, do you count them? I mean, I know the Sanctuary spell works on them, so I'd say yes, but…Or, wait. Shit. Does "Vampire Survivors" mean the vampires you survive, or the vampires that are also surviving alongside you? Maybe I didn't think this through…

Man, counting vampires shouldn't be as hard as surviving them. Ah ah ah!

[echoequinox]

I hope one day I can atrophy completely. I hope one day I can do it all the way. My mother always said "if you do a job half assed, it's like you didn't do it at all". I wish my body would finish the job.

Aching knees and ankles screaming in pain. A fogginess that never really leaves. A body that betrays me over and over and over and over. A mind that is so abhorrent to others that they try to forget I exist.

"Maybe it's the hormones", some will say. The weight of a stolen womanhood bearing down on my body so heavily that it crushes my joints to dust. "Maybe it's the antidepressants", cry others. Putting on pounds, teenage metabolism lost in a storm of my brain screaming half broken promises at itself about how life truly is worth living if we just keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going.

"Maybe you should've never been born", I tell myself. Imagining the half assed job I did years ago, holding those pills in the bathroom, ears ringing so loudly I can barely think. Sometimes I think that everyone has their own problems, and it makes them too busy to understand mine. Sometimes they're happy and don't want to hear about the sad things. I'm beginning to think they just don't care.

I think if I'd finished the job instead of bailing halfway through, I would be grateful to get my real name on my headstone. Maybe I'd even be buried in a dress. That's more than most trans people get, isn't it? Shouldn't I be grateful for that? For the roof and food, for the constant bare minimum while I wither away in my luxurious cell, desperately clinging to the voices of miles away loved ones to pretend I don't exist? Aren't I lucky?

I think if my body could ever do something right, could ever finish a job and finally make my mother proud, it would atrophy and wither and turn me into dust with how much the pain has become, finally free, particulates in the wind, blowing out the open window. Maybe I'd make it as far as the ones I love, Illinois and California and beyond.

I think in her eulogy of me, she'd complain about how I didn't get the dustpan afterward.

[thoughtdaughterandco]

OCD

i have been locked away to wither all day trapped with a monster as my cellmate inside my brain she feeds me lies that i will die if i do not press my finger in my neck to check that i am still alive thump thump thump she beats on the cell bars as i watch the clock and count the number of times she cries each time she tells me its the end i gasp for breath till my lungs scrape my chest dry

and i desperately repeat our rituals until the end of time as long as i do i will remain here trapped with her lies terrified to defy on the off chance she is right and disorder truly is a crime i'll die in here starving for air and counting my heartbeats

awaiting the day

my mind is finally clear

[the-fiction-witch]

The White Boat p1

Media The Last Legion

Character Romulus Augustus

Couple Romulus X Reader

Rating Dark AF

I sat in a cage like a filthy animal, my wrists chained, my body bruised, everything I had ever known was to change in this moment, and part of me knew it had truly changed forever. Outside my cell, I could hear the sounds of screaming, burning and breaking, and the city outside being sacked by the goths. The city I was meant to protect, I was supposed to be their emperor and I had failed them. I felt so awful. A Goth man came and unlocked my cell, he forced me out to walk back to the throne room, and he kicked my legs to make me walk without much of a word. When I arrived at the throne room, I felt a horrid pain in my heart, the statues shattered, the scrolls burnt and the tapestries torn and bloody.

Goth men lingered in the throne room, bodies of maids littered on the floor body and abused.

And on the throne of so many generations sat this goth barbarian king, Odoacer, He sat on the throne of my ancestors in his dirty bloody clothes his beard scraggly and broken. They forced me to walk down the throne room carpet until I stood before him. "Hello, Little boy," I didn't answer him. "How do you like what I have done?" "I do not." "Didn't think you would." He chuckled, "Would you like to see your city?" I shook my head, "Show him." He demanded, I was forced to the window, the same window I had stared out longing for a normal life, I saw my city destroyed, smouldering, houses burnt, towers fallen, and the city and its people reduced to dust. But I did my best to force away my emotions of how I failed to save them, how I had let Rome fall to this ruin. "It is for you that so many people have died." He told me, as I was forced back to him, "Such an innocent face." "The blood of Caesar flows through his veins!" His general warned, "He thinks I should fear you, should I?" I didn't answer him,

"Would you like to see your father little boy?" I perked up, I had believed in the chaos he was dead, he saw my perk and smirked. He clicked his fingers and immediately at my feet dropped my father's butchered head. I felt tears well up but I did my best not to move. He smirked and wiped a tear from my face seeming smug to see me cry. "Shall we bring your mother? to kiss away your tears little boy?" I fear fearful and soon enough her head dropped beside my fathers and I broke into tears, "He is the last of the Caesar's the line end it now." His general warned, "Enough." He demanded, "Sometimes your tongue runs ahead of your brain." he said, he drew his sword and my heart pounded in my chest, my breath sharp. "What do you see boy? should I be afraid of you?" He asked pointing the tip of his sword to me. I gathered up every last bit of my strength to say these words, "Why is Caesar treated so?" "Why is Caesar treated so…" he began as he left his seat, he held my hair and put his bloody sword to my neck the same cut as he had done to my parents. "Perhaps he's right, perhaps the line should end. here and now." He moved the sword to allow my reflection to be seen by my own eyes, "Do you see yourself? do you see your face boy? Tell me what you see… you see a little boy crying for his mummy, or do you see Caesar as emperor fit to rule." I didn't know how to answer, but I took every bit of strength I had. "I see a Caesar." "Wrong answer," he said, letting me go. He returned to the throne and looked at me with sollis.

"I am sending you into exile." "E-Exile?" I choked "Exile. You will leave Rome. You will never step foot in your homeland so long as you live, You will be sent to Capri. The Island fortress there, I will give you two guards and no more. Only there to ensure you remain, You will not have visitors, guests, or correspondence with anyone outside that fortress. Death for you would be a mercy, so you will live out your days alone and I will ensure you live to suffer the crippling hours of time." He explained, "You're line will wither and die in you." I choked up wanting to cry, to think he would be so cruel, to not give me mercy, but to ensure I suffer alone. "Father no!" A voice called and a girl arrived she looked no older than me, "We are not to speak of this Y/n." He warned, "Father this is cruel." "Cruel, he is of a bloodline that has forced our suffering for generations." "He is a child. The faults and crimes of his ancestors are not his." "You know what the words have said," "This is cruel Father, you cannot lock him away forever." "Then what would you have me do?" "There are ways he cannot continue the line without killing him, and without sentencing him to a cruel life of isolation." He laughed at her, "You would have me separate his stones and his pillar, as to prevent the continuation of his line, and then what just let him go?" "He could live a normal life, as any boy should, he would never have children, thus they will be no threat to you. It is the most peaceful way." "Kill them both!" His general yelled,

"Enough!" Odoacer demanded, "My decision is final. He goes to Capri, You will be his guard that is your reward for your defiance," he said to his general, "And you, if you care so much about his wellbeing you will be his caretaker." He told her, "You will live in Capri, never step foot outside the fortress again, never communicate with anyone outside the island, your guards will ensure you do not leave, and my daughter will visit you monthly to ensure you are alive and deliver food. You will wait out the rest of your miserable life alone on that rock until your line withers and dies." He clicked his fingers and before I could protest they dragged me away.

[theodoradevlin]

Old Habits and All That

SUMMARY: Silly/Random drabble/imagining of what MC x Ominis x Sebastian are up to in their future endeavors, on assignment for an artifact in the Dolomites. Sort of a continuation based off of this old imagining I had dreamed up about Seb being a magical artifact hunter. Using Theo as the MC....cause ya know. we can't be separated at this point.

WOW actually had a brain cell for once. Felt good to write a little again...so this may be more for me than anyone else (lol).Would be nice to turn this into an actual fic if my creativity wants to cooperate...but we'll see.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

OLD HABITS AND ALL THAT

Theo cursed as she dropped what must have been the third thing this week. This time - a mug. A mug…that had previously been holding the glorious caffeine that her body most so desperately needed right now.

At the curse, and the shatter, one of her companions jolted upright on the chaise they had previously been napping on across the room, unseeing eyes already full of alarm none the less. 

“Theo? What is it? What’s wrong?” 

Ominis’ concerns were never tentative, but immediate. For that she was grateful…because what came next was an accusing curse to match hers from the other side of the room as the unshaven man who’s face had previously been buried in his research also shot up to see what the commotion was about... only to immediately be followed by a groan.

“Damn - that was my Montrose Magpies mug wasn’t it? That was my favorite one.” Sebastian’s whine crawled under her skin as she let out her own exasperated sigh. 

 They had all been on the search for weeks, having been funded by a mystery donor for a six month stint in the middle of the Dolomite region in the Cansiglio Plateau. Muggles had always spoken about an ‘energetic boundary’ in the area they believed to be spiritual…but the minute Theo had stepped foot here she knew what it really was. It had called to her instantly, as it always did.

Ancient Magic. 

Sebastian had been researching tales on the region, about another object that could remove essence of magic from individuals, ancient or not, and it was something that needed to be apprehended and locked away as soon as possible.

Theo could only imagine if it got out…one could potentially steal magic from anyone they wished. And….no one deserved that fate. Loosing magic was comparable to loosing one’s part of their soul.

They knew from experience that even Sebastian’s experiments with dark magic had irreversibly altered his own magic trace, to this day. 

And Ominis, having become an expert Curse Breaker in their years after Hogwarts, was also well aware from his own experiences on what risks usually came with an object like that.

They suspected the object was located in an ancient tomb somewhere within the mountains, but ...where exactly this tomb was they could not say...yet.

However….all that to say….Theo knew full well if finding this object wasn’t going to test them all, then her lack of sleep certainly was.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ll…try and replace it.” She growled at Sebastian.

“Now, now Theo. If you want to get into my knickers you needn’t go around terrorizing my mugs to do it.” 

Despite his own lack of sleep, the quick wit was never idle. Ominis let out a scoff as if to remind them he was ALSO in the room, and not currently interested in seeing Seb’s knickers. 

“Try and keep your trousers on for once. I know we’ve all been cooped up in here, but really Sebastian.” He scolded playfully. Not as if he hadn’t seen that part of Sebastian before… the first few weeks here, the three of them had taken too many shots of fire whiskey…and…well. For now, they would have to save that for another time. 

Sebastian shot him a withering look…though in his disheveled state from his corner of the room, tucked behind the table underneath stacks of old texts, some of that glare lost its power. Ominis had still managed to sound and appear as calm, cool, and collected as he always was. 

And yet with Ominis, Theo could always spot the signs when something more feral was flashing beneath the surface. Yes…they had all been cooped up in their hideout for far too long, with all of them needing some form of release. Whether a break-through in the research…or perhaps something else. 

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she bent down to pick up the mug shards, surprised to see that her own fingers were shaking. 

Cautiously, Ominis came over to her as if sensing this, bending down to her level and taking her hands in his own, rubbing a finger along the skin as if in a small attempt to soothe her. 

“Perhaps one too many cups of coffee, hm Theo? When was the last time you slept for longer than twenty minutes?” 

Even as her breath calmed at his touch, her chest immediately turned tight at the fact that she knew her body demanded sleep, but their situation could not allow it. 

“We…we’re so close to finding the relic. So close. I’ll sleep afterwards.” Her voice came out tight, and stubborn, so much so that Ominis sighed. 

“She’s right you know. Ominis - we can’t stop now. That would put off all the progress we’ve made —“ 

The man still had not released her hands, but turned to snap his head in Sebastian’s direction.

 “Neither of you are getting anything done in the state you’re in. Theo can’t even hold something in her hands for two seconds without dropping it, and you…I know you haven’t shaved in forever judging by the feeling of hair that attacks me every time I’m near you, so I can only assume what state you’re in. I can certainly smell you. Now….maybe you both can pause for some food and a bath.”

“But—“ 

Ominis cut off Theo’s protest again.  

“Enough of that. You need to soak up the caffeine, and Sebastian needs to be in a world outside of his textbooks for a night.”

“Hey!” 

Despite the objection from them both, Theo knew he was right. She could see Ominis needed it too in the tense muscle fluttering in his jaw. 

“Alright fine. Agreed. Food…and a break. For a bit. Then…back to work.” She agreed, with a tight and shallow nod. 

Ominis smirked, dipping his own head in a slight nod, pleased clearly that he’d gotten her to agree. “Always so diligent. Alright then. And Sebastian… bath first please.” 

More disgruntled noises from the freckled man, but no more objections as they went to get ready. 

___

Luckily, since they were staying close to the valley…the walk to the nearest tavern was a short and welcome trek from their hideout. As they walked, her eyes skimmed over the pale mountains looming in the distance, forcing her mind to forget the secrets they might hold….at least for a time. 

Theo wasn’t going to deny that the stew placed in front of her had thawed all remaining feelings of tension and warmed her from the inside out. For the first time in days, she felt like more of a human and less of a run over dugbog. She could see it on all of their faces as they sat in the booth of the tavern, no one speaking words, but just enjoying the comfort of the food. 

Even Sebastian was at ease, despite the small tinge of nervousness that still followed him when they were out in public. It was half the reason their work in tracking down artifacts took them around the world, and nowhere near Hogwarts. 

All those years ago after their fifth year, she still remembered when she saw him for the first time after that summer. The unfamiliar look of doubt that had worked its way into his previously unbothered and careless demeanor. He had showed up at the Three Broomsticks, having been taken in by Sirona after the events that had happened in the catacombs. It was the first, and only time, she had seen him frozen in their presence…unsure of what they thought of him.

 Theo hugged him first, rushing over and holding him tightly, not questioning a single thing. Ominis was slower to embrace him, but did all the same. Questions would still come from him, they always would. And that’s why they needed each other. 

Like he had said all those months ago, whatever they were in for…they were in it together. 

And they still were. 

They had eaten stew that day too. 

The thought of how far they’d come welcomed a grin to her face as she looked down into her soup, Sebastian immediately picking up on it. 

“Hm. And what, may I ask, are you smiling about over there?”  His voice was light and teasing, already so much less strained than it had been earlier. Theo made a face at him.

“Just nice to see your face again, Seb that’s all. I had forgotten what you had looked like under all that wolfish facial hair.”

Ominis let out a snort, as Sebastian rolled his eyes, but the smile still remained on his face.  “Always warms my heart when you say you like my face, Theo. You know what….just for that. I’m ordering us a round of drinks.”

Ominis eyebrows immediately raised in curiosity, no doubt remembering the last time they all drank together.  “Oh?” 

“Oh, indeed.” Theo echoed, leaning closer and resting her head in her hands in intent interest.

“Well- we all agreed we deserved a break. Don’t we deserve a little fun too?” 

None of them disagreed as Sebastian came back over, with three shots of fire whiskey. 

“In it together, then?” Ominis said, raising his glass. 

“For better or worse.” Theo concurred. 

“And more of it worse, knowing us. Old habits, and all that..” Seb added his quip, before the three of them clinked and threw it back.

She chuckled, knowing that he was right. Their philosophy seemed to be one of being in trouble or being bored. 

Theo knew a lot had changed, and probably still would. but, perhaps these old habits wouldn't.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

i need this n.sfw bot to be back online, i can feel my last brain cell finally withering away

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 77: We Are Still Human

Utter blackness.

A complete absence of light.

Never seen anything like this before.

Seems… comforting.

Like it’s calling to me…

I hear it. My name…

Kilo…

Kilo…

“Kilo!!” shouts Jerome. Kilo snaps awake. Through his one remaining eye, he gazes into his friend’s alarmed face. Regaining consciousness summons a coughing fit as his lungs fill with air. “Kilo?!” Jerome shouts again.

“yeah…! yeah yeah, hey, I’m up… I’m up…” Kilo answers hoarsely. He notices then that tears are streaming down Jerome’s face. The rapper notices himself and quickly dries his face on his sleeve.

“I… I thought you were dead…!”

Staring for a long moment, Kilo finally says, “what you take me for…? not even close…” Jerome pulls a desperate grin and nods weakly. “what’s goin’ on…?” the scarred man murmurs, “did they… did they beat him yet?”

The rapper shakes his head. “I… I don’t know… I been hearin’ shit… Explosions comin’ from up there… You’d think the cops would show up by now, right?”

All Kilo truly hears in ‘explosion’. Memories flood into his brain, of what he had to do to defeat Sang-ok. Then, his imagination flares of Shizuka going through the same thing. While he lies on the ground…

“I… I gotta…” he groans, reaching his arm up, the only one he has left, and grabbing a branch to pull himself to his feet. But his effort is wasted. The shattered bone in his leg sticks into his muscles. “I…!”

Jerome presses on Kilo’s shoulders. “Stay down, mayn. Y-You can’t get up like this! Just siddow-”

“GET OFF!!!” his friend roars, making Jerome flinch. “just… just…!” Kilo continues to groan. When he raises his face, a single tear pours from his eyes, his scarred mouth wavers. “please… jerome… just get me up there… I need to be there…!”

Jerome stares, dumbstruck by what he never imagined he’d see. He collects himself, then drapes Kilo’s arm over his shoulder. “Yeah… Yeah, man. C’mon, then. Let’s go…!”

SATURN BARZ hovers over them, an endless billow of steam emanating from its right side. Kilo Staples focuses his remaining eye on his Stand. The physical manifestation of his will to fight and survive. The journey up the hill is like a trek through an arctic wasteland, with each foot forward a battle against his own body which screams at him to lie down and sleep. But Jerome keeps walking, and Kilo stays awake.

***

They had both kept their cool at the time, but when Kilo brought Shizuka to him to demand a favor, he could tell that Jerome was ecstatic. As far as the rapper was concerned, without Kilo, there would be no C-King. 

Their first true meeting was in a police holding cell in North Hollywood, 5 years ago. They had been arrested following a brawl that broke out at a hotel party hosted by a different rapper. “It was you that started it, right?” Jerome had asked him. Kilo shot him a withering glare, but to his surprise, the rapper didn’t shrink away. “Ey ey, it’s cool! Ain’t tryin’ to start no beef, just tryna pass the time! It’s just… I’m pretty you wasn’t even on the guest list. How’d you get in in the first place?”

He was drunk. He also had a bump on his forehead. Kilo glared at him for a long time, until at last he sighed. “I’m… I was looking for someone. I heard a guy at the party might know where he is. I didn’t like the answer he gave me.”

“Dayum. Who was you lookin’ for?”

“None o’ your damn business. You should know better than to ask that.”

“Dayum! You the real deal, homie!” the rapper exclaimed, leaning against the wall. “If the other dudes on the label were half as hard as you, they could be runnin’ this town.”

Kilo Staples looked askance at him, confused at this little man’s lack of fear. “Why you talking to me? Who even are you?”

“Me?” Jerome scoffed, “I’m nobody. Just another fake gangsta…” Though he still smiled, there was a miserable look about him. “I was pretty good, you know? Made some good records. Good enough to get scouted, anyhow. Come out west to sign onto the label. But now? Shiet… I’m just another supportin’ act.

“Manager keeps tellin’ me, ‘C-King, baby, you just need a hit and you be a star!’ You know… this rap thing. It’s all I’m good for. I ain’t smart enough to do nothing else. I thought I coulda been one of the OGs. Turns out I’m just another punk-ass.”

After this outpour, the rapper fell quiet, as if running out of fuel. The two men sat in silence for some time. Finally, to Jerome’s surprise, he began talking. “You think I’m the ‘real deal’? What a joke…” Something inside Kilo, normally hardened, slipped. “I been at this for 2 goddamn years. I’m no closer to my goal than when I started… At least you got a dream to work for. Even if it’s just a delusion to keep you high, I guess it’s better than nothing… The thing is, I know. Finding Tarantula won’t make me feel any better. It’s just all I’ve got. My anger is all that keeps me standing…”

With that, it was the tall man’s turn to go quiet. The two men met each other gazes. Finally, the rapper offered his fist. “Name’s Jerome Adetokunbo. From Brooklyn.”

After a second, the tall man bumped the offered fist. “Kilo Staples. Compton.”

They continued to talk. Somehow, the conversation turned to mythology. Jerome shared his great-grandad’s tales of King Shango. Kilo spoke of the Roman gods. Finally, Jerome’s bail was posted by his then-girlfriend and the two men parted ways. Some time later, Jerome learned of that strange man’s escape from prison.

That very night, Jerome began writing Dreamer’s High, inspired by their chance encounter. It would be the hit that made his career, propelling him almost overnight to the heights of the LA music scene. 

Jerom insisted on befriending Kilo. And despite his misgivings, the tall man found himself warming to the rapper. He didn’t truly feel like he was owed anything, despite Jerome’s insistence. For Shizuka’s sake alone, he took advantage of the rapper’s sense of obligation. 

He still believed in nothing then. Least of all a celebrity’s good will. But Jerome had come through. Time and time again, Jerome had been there for him…