#there's something that happens psychologically where you finally say 'if i play the part and stop hoping for more then they can't hurt me'

[francesderwent]

I really do think the only way to understand Sabrina's music from "Nonsense" forward is to hear behind it "it was all so innocent, now...I'm a slut. tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice"

[p0orbaby]

Forty Winks Would Be Just Priceless

summary: your kid only sleeps when being driven, the diva that she is

warnings: none !

a/n: if someone could drive me around to get to sleep that would be great

word count: 1.7k

-

It’s 2:47 a.m., and you’re sitting in the passenger seat of a car that you didn’t even know Leah could operate at this level of exhaustion. You’re wondering if she’s siphoning energy directly from the Devil, because that’s the only explanation. The car smells like a combination of McDonald’s fries, stale coffee, and something unidentifiable that you’re hoping isn’t some sort of roadkill under the bonnet. Your wife is behind the wheel, white-knuckling it like she’s doing 90 on the M25. In reality, she’s going 15 miles per hour around your parish.

Again.

“Is this the fifth lap or the sixth?” you ask. You’ve lost count. Somewhere around lap three, you started dissociating. The glow of the streetlights is the only indication you’re still on Earth.

“Does it matter?” Leah responds, glancing over at you with an arched eyebrow that you recognise as the look she gives opponents who try to muscle her off the ball. Leah has three moods: sweet, commanding, and “I could end you without lifting a finger.” You’re currently dealing with the third. The funny part is, she’s only this intimidating when she’s wearing a hoodie over her messy hair, dark circles framing her bloodshot eyes, which she insists is the result of “just a little” caffeine.

You eye her warily. “Maybe not,” you admit, slumping lower into the seat. You glance over your shoulder into the backseat, where Eden, your two-year-old sleep terrorist, has finally succumbed to the soothing vibrations of the Mercedes. Eden’s head is lolling to one side, mouth slightly open, and you’re just about convinced she’s auditioning to be the next exorcism case.

Leah’s been driving for about an hour now. You’re on your third consecutive night of the same routine: dinnertime is war, bath time is a ceasefire, and bedtime is a full-blown, special-ops mission with all the difficulty of invading a heavily guarded country. Eden has the upper hand. Eden is always ten steps ahead. And the only way to win is to retreat—to the car.

“I feel like we should get a second car,” you suggest, half-serious. “One specifically for these midnight missions. Maybe something with better fuel efficiency”

Leah gives you a side-eye that says, “You’re joking, right?” But you can tell she’s considering it. “Or we could teach her to fall asleep like a normal child. In her bed. At bedtime”

You snort. “Teach her? Are we raising a human or a feral cat?”

Leah doesn’t even have to respond to that. Eden is a force of nature. You’re just two unfortunate souls caught in her tiny hurricane.

“And what do we do when she grows out of this?” Leah asks, but it’s more like she’s thinking out loud. “Do we drive her to school every day just to get her to wake up?”

“Let’s just worry about surviving the next hour,” you say, looking at the clock. You remember reading somewhere that car exhaust fumes can lull a person to sleep. You briefly wonder if that’s what’s happening to you right now.

Leah clicks her tongue in thought, turning onto the next street, where a dog that clearly suffers from some kind of psychological trauma is barking at nothing. “When I was little,” she begins, “my mum would drive me around to get me to sleep, but we lived in the countryside. There were no barking dogs, just the occasional sheep”

“Well, that’s why you turned out so well-adjusted,” you remark dryly. “If Eden grows up thinking the only way to fall asleep is to go for a drive, she’s going to need therapy. Which we can’t afford, by the way, because we’ll be spending all our money on petrol”

Leah chuckles, but it’s the kind of laugh that’s a little too high-pitched to be real. “We’ll add it to the list of things she’ll blame us for when she’s older. Right next to ‘Mum used to make me eat vegetables’ and ‘Mama never let me play with knives’”

Eden lets out a little snore, and you both freeze, staring at the rearview mirror. Leah’s foot hovers over the brake pedal as if any sudden movement might wake the tiny monster in the back. You can practically hear both of you holding your breath, waiting for the inevitable cry of protest that’s sure to come the second the car stops moving.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, Eden’s snore deepens, becoming the kind of sleep sounds that suggest she’s off in dreamland, probably riding unicorns or setting fire to imaginary villages.

You relax a fraction, and so does Leah, though she’s still gripping the wheel like it’s her last lifeline. You wonder if she’s ever used this level of concentration on the pitch. You’ve never seen her miss a tackle, but this is an entirely different ball game.

“So, when do we stop?” Leah whispers. You can hear the exhaustion in her voice now, thick and sludgy like she’s been awake for a week.

You consider this. “We could keep driving until sunrise. Then she’ll wake up with the sun and think it’s a new day. Maybe it’ll reset her sleep schedule”

“Or we’ll just be perpetually exhausted and still sleep-deprived, except now we’ve got morning traffic to deal with,” Leah counters. “You know, if we were living in a different era, this could be considered some form of witchcraft. Driving around in circles at night to get a child to sleep. Someone would’ve burned us at the stake by now”

“Wouldn’t that be a relief,” you mutter, then immediately regret it, because even though you’re joking, you’re too tired to be sure.

Leah sighs. “I love her. I really do. But sometimes I wonder if we’re the ones being trained here”

“There’s no wonder about it,” you reply, deadpan. “We’re definitely the ones being trained. She’s got us figured out. We’re puppets. Eden pulls the strings, and we drive”

Leah smiles at that, though it’s more of a grimace of acknowledgment. “You know, when I said I’d do anything for her, I didn’t realise it included nighttime rally racing in a residential neighborhood”

“Should’ve read the fine print,” you say, then yawn so hard it hurts. “But hey, at least we’re doing this together, right? Quality time”

Leah glances over at you, and this time, her smile is real. It’s small, but it’s there, and it makes you feel a little less like a zombie. “Yeah,” she agrees softly. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else”

You reach over and squeeze her hand, and for a moment, there’s peace. Not the kind of peace you’ll ever find in a parenting book or one of those sanctimonious mommy blogs, but the kind that exists in the trenches, where you and Leah are currently wading through knee-deep toddler warfare.

As you turn onto yet another street that looks identical to the last, you finally admit defeat. “Let’s call it,” you say. “She’s out. If we keep going, we’re going to end up in Scotland”

“Good idea,” Leah says, already beginning the slow process of easing off the gas and pulling into your driveway. She parks with the kind of precision that makes you think she missed her calling as a getaway driver.

You both sit there for a minute, basking in the silence that only comes when your child is finally, blessedly asleep. You’re in no rush to move, because you know the second you do, Eden will sense it and all this work will be undone in a matter of seconds.

But Leah is braver than you. She quietly turns off the engine, unbuckles her seatbelt, and with the precision of a bomb squad technician, she turns to the backseat. You watch as she gingerly unbuckles Eden, cradling her like she’s made of porcelain.

And somehow, miraculously, Eden stays asleep. Leah manages to get out of the car, Eden still snoozing in her arms, and you’re right behind her, ready to perform the hand-off should things go south.

The two of you tiptoe through the house like burglars, careful to avoid every creaky floorboard. You’re halfway to Eden’s room when she stirs, and you both freeze in place like deer caught in headlights. But then she just shifts in Leah’s arms, sighs deeply, and snuggles closer into her mother’s shoulder.

You finally reach the cot, and Leah lowers her in with the gentleness of a saint. The transfer is seamless. Eden doesn’t even flinch.

The second the cot rail is up, you and Leah back out of the room like you’ve just completed a high-stakes mission, which you basically have. The door closes with a soft click, and you both stand there, wide-eyed, disbelieving.

“She’s asleep,” Leah whispers, like she doesn’t dare believe it.

“She’s asleep,” you echo, equally stunned.

And then, without warning, Leah lets out a sound that you can only describe as a half-crazed giggle. It’s infectious, and you start laughing too, because it’s either that or you’re going to cry, and honestly, you’ve done enough of that in the last few days.

“We did it,” you say between breaths, leaning against the wall for support. “We actually did it”

Leah pulls you into a hug, and it’s warm and comforting, and it feels like a reward for all the hell you’ve been through tonight. “We make a good team,” she murmurs into your hair.

“The best,” you agree, letting yourself relax into her embrace.

But as you’re standing there, holding each other in the hallway like the survivours you are, you both hear it: the unmistakable sound of Eden stirring, a tiny whimper that promises to turn into a full-blown cry in about three seconds.

You look at each other in horror, and without a word, Leah grabs the car keys.

“You can drive,” she says, already heading back towards the front door.

You don’t even argue. Instead, you grab your the keys from her, knowing full well that this battle isn’t over yet.

And as you both head back to the car for yet another sleepless night, you can’t help but think that one day, years from now, you’ll look back on these nights with some kind of twisted fondness.

But for now, all you can do is keep driving.

[pierofilm]

yandere simulator; xo (only if you say yes)

2024 | 18+ | RUNTIME: 23K | STARRING > Y.JW | SUMMARY; when you—a corporate worker in her late twenties—finds a strange self-proclaimed online game "no one has ever win this game yet", where its premise are centered around yanderes, but instead of the classic route where the yanderes had to chase you, it is you who have to do it; turn the boy you've chosen into a lovesick creature for you before someone else does. playing it online is surely fine, but what happens when you find yourself stuck in its world?

GENRE: yandere, survival/death game, character-driven story, violence/gore, dark psychology, psychological thriller, drama

LVL 2 WARNING: intense emotional outbursts, minor graphic details of gore, ;; not a native eng speaker! grammar errors ahead!,

THEME MUSIC: ROSEATE LIGHT / BGM.

DIRECTOR'S CUT, ep 2 is finally out after two months of grinding!! its not my best work, as im kind of bummed with my eng. i've revised it countless of times, so apologies for any mistakes but regardless i hope yall will still love it <3 btw i don't do taglist for my works, apologies for that! so today concludes the last release for this roleplay game bc i have to finish two film projects which has been delayed for quite awhile now :'( so there won't be any update until further notice! soo yeah 𖹭 hope you enjoy and tyvm for reading!

loading... lvl ②

this is a roleplay story game with a poll, where you may either choose to observe yourself as the protagonist or the one helping the protagonist. to play the game, it is advise to read the story properly because once you've reached the bottom, a poll will be presented with multiple routes you have to choose. every level's poll has a 1-week time limit, and therefore it is advise to not rush to vote and to have a discussion among each other first, and to think wisely which choice you think are the best —as the majority of the votes will decide how the game progresses. but its important to keep in mind, that each route has its advantages and disadvantages and may lead to the protagonists' downfall rather than benefiting her.

AUG 23. 2024

EARTH, ****

i. WHAT IS A GAME TO YOU?

A game is an activity, one that engages with for newfound experiences, for amusement and fun, or simply out of pure boredom.

In a sense, it is a virtual world where you are able to do something you were unable to do in the real world; to live out a role. There are numerous, vast array of games, whether it be analog or digital. So many of them, you couldn't get the definitive, exact count of the total number that exists in the world.

But does that even matter when its main core is to give you an experience out of this world?

The real world.

Where humans assume a role the moment they realize what it meant to live and survive, yet not just one but many. We often rotate these roles like a roulette depending on who we talk with, or what kind of situation we're in, maybe what is expected of us, or to abide by of what is our current status and position.

The origin of the word 'role' could be trace back further to French rôle from obsolete French roule ‘roll’, referring to the roll of paper on which an actor's part was written, and also from Latin—rotula, rotulus 'little wheel', which is a diminutive of rota 'wheel'.

In a sense, we created scripts in our head of how we should act. Because think of this, how would you act if your mechanics suddenly acted like a doctor? Its weird, right? Or maybe depending on your opinion, you may find it hilarious.

That's why we act according to our role, the part given to us, and the many parts that we've assumed on our own.

The most famous quote expressing this comes from Shakespeare: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts." 

Shakespeare are implying that all of us are constantly wearing masks. That some people are better actors than others, and he was right.

Person, comes from Old French persone, which derived from Latin persona which means 'actor's mask, character in a play'.

We're all actors in a colossal stage play, with roles to play.

A theatre; maybe you could compare the the actors as blocks—maybe a Jenga? A colossal building blocks that fits perfectly together, forming a cohesive tightly fitting society. Major or minor, each block is a component that serves a purpose to the society—fulfilling our respective roles. Yet that role can be taken away as easy as it was given to you, or even if you worked hard for it.

Why?

There are exactly eight billion people in this world, and these numbers will kept growing. Shall that mask comes off, or if you do not play your role properly, will society still accept you?

No. We are all too easily replaceable.

One block could be filled in or pulled out when the circumstances sees it fit, it's one heck of a big thing, anyways.

Whether it be in your personal life such as friendships, ever heard about trios rarely works? Or in relationships where your lover seems to pay no attention to you any longer and you are left wondering what went wrong? Or perhaps, in your career—where you are thrown out as soon as someone new, someone way younger and capable than you are came around despite pouring your best efforts in that field for so long.

A brief, momentary experience.

Yet some blocks get to never fit in, though. Never knowing how it feels like to be in one. Because it just, never fits in. It remains as a part of the auditorium, sandwiched in between the audience seat.

Say, you desire to inherit a farm or live in the countryside but you don't even have any family nor relatives in this field. Ever wanted to ride a dragon and wear a dazzling heavy armor across the sky? Or have your own restaurant whether it be a Chinese cuisine, maybe not that one but a pizza restaurant where you serve millions of people? Start your own business startup, sign all those contracts with the tycoons and earn that huge bucks of stacks but just don't have the time, energy, and capital to do so? Or maybe a pet shop because you had the unrealistic wish to own dozens of pet breeds?

Want to go through the nine-month process of pregnancy but all the post-pregnancy effects has your face cringing in fear? Or you just wanted to have a small cozy home yet you're too broke to even afford one? A healthy relationship, a functional family? A loving mother? Sure. A responsible father? On the way! Or you just wanted to feel loved? The bare minimum of all?

Sometimes, we're not so satisfied with the roles we end up in—that we are engulfed with a desire.

It could just be a mere hobby, to escape reality, a stress reliever, or to be part of a story you've never been and desires to be in. Its a role that deviates from who you are, from the hands of judgement of the court, where no one can judge you. To live as someone.

A virtual experiences. An immersion. A roleplay. A recreation. A simulation. Whatever you call it, all of them was meant to satisfy. To satisfy an urge, a want, a need—a desire for something. To feel something. To fill in this hollow void within.

To relive what was lost or to live what never existed in the first place.

Because why do we even read stories in the first place, then?

Something you can only do behind that screen, just a second away from your digits.

A chance.

And you were being given the second chance to relive those experience one more time, without having to give something in return.

It is one in a lifetime chance, the fact they don't give this freely to anyone enticed you, tempted you.

You desired to be love and craved for with no care for limit. For you were sure as hell no one would go crazy for you in this life. For you, yanderes are the epitome of love that are eternal and immortal. Anyone can say what they want to, but this kind love, no matter how toxic it may be, are divinely tempting.

For once, you wanted to be loved, not to love.

What harm would it do to you, even? Unless this game pulled a dirty trick of asking you to pay a heavy sum of bucks after, then it go screw itself, you could just press the exit button as swift as you can but for now, you'll see to it.

You accepted the package.

Pressing the button, a set of gift boxes in a variety of colours in their ribbons appeared much to your surprise, floating around in a rhythmic motion accompanied by a new BGM before settling down in a row at the bottom of your screen.

Curious, yet intrigued—you tapped on each gift box.

➤ .. 🎁 HEARTY EYES: APPEARANCE INCREASED BY 10 POINTS!

➤ .. 🎁 LOVE POTION: A WHIFF OF ROSY SCENT!

➤ .. 🎁REPUTATION METER: INCREASE BY 5 POINTS!

New XPs and skills made its appearance one by one, lighting up your eyes with delight and excitement. This new additional gifts would surely help you in your second try! A final gift box appeared out of blue much to your surprise, there's one more? Gulping down with giddiness, exceedingly curious of what it could contain, you tapped it with no hesitation.

➤ .. 🎁 DRESS-UP DARLING, THE GRAND INVITATION: REVEL IN YOUR NEW SKIN!

Eh? Invitation? Skin..?

You rubbed your heavy lids, for what purpose would you need a new skin for? Brows knitted deeply together deeply the peculiar package. Perhaps it could contained some extra points that may increase your appearance judging by its title.

New skin..

You accepted the gift box, and to your surprise—it returned you back to the options of play again, or return to the main menu in which you pressed the latter. What? That's it? No such thing as redirecting you into a fishy website, or all those eye-boggling digits?

Breathing out a small wow, although short-lived as your jaw dropped. Gasping after noticing the devil hours glaring back at you—illuminating your dark eyebags in blue hues—the sequences of events where your employer scolded you, slamming the colossal bold title of 'fired'—sending you in sheer panic.

Placing it under your pillow on your right side, you hurried to sleep as you tucked yourself in your cozy blankets.

Pitch black cloaked the entire expanse of the sky, yet the hush of the moon herself—conquered with vigor, casted a soothing spell—beckoning your heavy lids to succumb to its embrace.

Drifting into the darkness, you did.

Unbeknownst to you, a glow of light flickers beneath your pillow—illuminating the edge of your slumber face, approaching like mist— overshadowing the moon—dusting half of your nose a stroke of rosy tint, morphing into a heavier shade that consumes your face, to scathing your entire skin in streaks of crimson.

It progressively crawled out like an animated form of blood, dripping down your bed and onto your floor—morphing into razor sharp fingers that obscured your windows from the outside world.

Submerging your window in deep red, illustrating the image of an apocalyptic day.

The floor, your furniture, your closet—enveloped by its approaching force—bathing everything it could see in red. Returning to your side, it tucks your locks behind your ear before slithering across your arm, twirling around and settling on the table by the bed.

A display screen glowed amidst the flaming red, typing out a text:

APRIL 8, 2026 ➤ .. Good night, my darling.

The ceiling of your room greeted your drowsy lids. You groaned, irritated by the rays of the sun peering through the gaps of the curtain—casting its searing heat on your face.

You shifted your body where your back faces the window, your hands instinctively searching for your phone under your pillow, frowning when you couldn't grab anything.

Head clouded with slumber, you were sure you had placed it right there. Shifting your body once more, yawning as you stretched your hands on the bedside table.

There it is!

Raising your eyelids a bit, you tapped your phone's screen twice expecting to be greeted by your lock screen. Eyebrows knitting deeply as you quickly paused, rubbing your eyes to get a better look.

"Huh?"

Stunned by the peculiar color of rosy pink blotting your blurry vision. You felt the cold material in your palms, searching for the supposedly touch screen but it was too small and slim—hold on. You jammed your thumb in-between the two layers, flicking it open.

The heck is this? A flip phone? You were sure you've threw your barely working flip phone years ago. And it wasn't even p-pink?

Your sleep-dazed brain swirls with deeper confusion as you navigated through the strange tiny icons. All dripping in pink much to your disbelief.

Favors? Schedule? Student info? What the heck is all this weird stuffs? Your eyes widened when you finally notice the three-digit clock, it propels your body to tense almost immediately, sitting right up with eyes blown wide.

A high-pitched of whines escapes your lips. You're in for a great risk of getting fired today. You pulled the blanket off your frame, hurrying to get ready before all the eerie prospects in your mind come true—

Huh? Hold on.

Your body halted when you put your bare feet on the floor, eyes falling on a carpet that strangely looks a tad bit different than it used to. The patterns? The color? Groaning, you passed it off as another trick your brain playing on you as you just woke up. You rubbed your groggy eyes, yawning as you sprinted to the bathroom.

You really got no time for this, mumbling as you grabbed your toothbrush, putting a toothpaste on it before pushing into your mouth. So much for playing the damn game, now you're terribly, terribly late.

A fatal hit to your ten year streak as a diligent corporate worker. Now that you thought of it, a sigh escapes amidst the bubbles in your mouth. After awhile, with this mundane average life of yours that you've lived over the years, you've begin to wonder when will the time come for you to save up enough money to be able to quit? You've never had even a single vacation out of embarrassment and consideration for your co-workers.

At some point, you've felt like you were an automatic machine repeating and completing the same tasks every single day for ten years. It came to a brief thought that perhaps you were only truly living at night.

If only there's a world where you an escape to for awhile, away from this boring reality. But there's no way that world exists. If only you could—

Thoughts halted, looking at your reflection in the mirror. There is something wrong, and no, it's not your face—though you look strangely youthful? Leaning closer, you inspected your features with furrowed brows. Dark eyebags and the wrinkles nowhere to be found.

Eh?

Heck, you weren't that old, for sure. Yet you look slightly younger for some reason. Squinting your eyes, you stood a few inches away from the mirror, pulling a random poses as you try to observe anything you could find. Poking your cheeks that was strangely supple, a stark contrast of the hollow cheekbones you captured in your camera a few days ago, complaining to your friend of how you were aging so rapidly.

All those random beauty products she recommended to you finally worked out? Or was it the short burst of sleep you got? Knitting your eyebrows together at the thought as you resumed brushing your teeth, it can't be though?

Wait. Hold on.

You let out a gasp, snapping your head behind to you where your bathtub stood in it's glory. That's it. That's the shit. That pristine ceramic shooting rays against your face.

You don't have a fucking bathtub.

Where did that giant heck of a thing came from?

You've spent all your years dreaming for one, to submerged yourself in bubbles to chill in after a long day of work.

However to do that, a better apartment and an extra space is what you needed first, where you could put everything in their respective place. Having everything meld into one small room is mentally exhausting, and that wish only seems get further and further away from your grasp when that five digits holding the thread of your life keeps slamming you back to reality, leaving you cramped up inside your tiny apartment.

Maybe this is the sign that you should just be grateful and not to be greedy for more. But..

But this thing—is truly in front of you.

You took a few steps backwards to take a full view of the bathroom; it's oddly familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. You were sure you've seen this somewhere but you can't put it right in your mouth. With confusion hanging in your head so deep, you took a few gargles—finishing up.

Thinking back to it, this bathtub kind of look familiar.

You stood by the door, pausing for a thought you tilt your head sideways.

Something is amiss and it begin to sink in.

This is not your room.

With the realization setting in complete form, you stood there in bewilderment—snapping your head around, observing the unfamiliar furniture and corners of this strange room.

Where are you? And what the hell is that uniform hanging at the wall for? Are you perhaps having a lucid dream, where you could feel pain and all that sort of stuff? It must be those weird YouTube videos you've watched over the past few days.

Somehow, this looks like.. This looks like just like—

No way, though. You let out a nervous laugh. Pinching your cheeks hard, you let out a terribly loud 'ow', frowning at the throbbing pain. Why the heck does it hurts so much?!

➤ .. WELCOME, DARLING! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU FOR SO LONG!

You lose your balance, letting out a high-pitched scream from your throat—tipping off your sole when a huge floating pink object emerged out of nothing at your face. A computer display?! Almost like the science fiction films you've watched, it resembled a hologram but much, much more vivid and vibrant, floating before you.

A p-popup?

"W—what? Huh?!" Elbows digging on the floor, your expressions contorts into an amalgamation of fear and confusion. You hissed at the throbbing pain on your butt, rubbing it off to ease the pain. Why the heck does it hurt so much?!

You notice as it swiftly typed out a question.

➤ .. OH MY... HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?

What is that thing?..

"W-what? What did I forgot?" Stammering, you blurted out without much thought.

➤ .. YOU LOSE LAST NIGHT. WHICH IS QUITE UNFORTUNATE, YET IT IS TO BE EXPECTED, AFTER ALL.

"The heck are you talking about?"

➤ .. YOU'RE IN MY GAME.. IN THE WORLD OF YANDERE SIMULATOR!

It took you a whole minute to process the words, laying there on your elbows. Until a high-pitched laughter spills out of your mouth, legs kicking in frantic motions as you try to push yourself up to stand.

Yandere Simulator? The game you were playing?

Bursting into another round of giggles, holding your stomach with your arms at this newfound joke. "M-me? In a game? More like in a dream!"

After what seem like a long laugh. You let out a huge exhale, now completely sure that this is a dream.

"Okay, wake up now," You slapped yourself on the cheek lightly a few times, clearing your throat as you shut your eyes tight. "You're too freaking obsessed with that game for god's sake. Wake up, wake up!"

A few beats of silence echoes.

You open your left eye, taking a peek. But to your disappointment, you're still in this weird dream.

➤ .. YOU'RE IN MY GAME. DON'T YOU GET IT?

You ignored it. Rushing back to the bed, tucking yourself in the blankets. Go back to sleep, idiot. You screamed in your head.

A robotic giggle suddenly hit your ears, forcing your eyes to open as goosebumps riled across your skin.

That thing is giggling for fuck's sake, you thought. It bounces as its pink color flickers on and off, syncing with its giggles.

➤ .. WELL, I'LL LEAVE IT UP TO YOU TO FIND IT OUT YOURSELF THEN. IT'S A GAME AFTER ALL!

Your jaw dropped. It disappeared. More like vanishes into nothing like how it appeared out of blue. What? You weren't imagining things, do you? It w-was there, just now!

You immediately stood up, with your foot planted firmly on the floor, urgency and nervousness amplified with every second.

A game? How ridiculous.

This place that somehow resembles the game you've been playing for awhile now, it's complete nonsense. Your brain tries to search for an answer and your face beams up.

Or perhaps is it the end of the world? Have Earth been conquered at last?! Were all those news from thirteen years ago were real? Repulsed by the idea, you lose your tipping trying to make sense of this holographic square before you.

But wait, Earth is too dumb for aliens to even consider to conquer. Maybe you've had time traveled? Shit. Have you accidentally teleported into the future where cities had advanced in great lengths and technology? It could explain why that weird thing just now resembles those science-fiction stuffs.

"Am I.." You pointed towards yourself, voicing out a scary question. "In the future? Like 3000-ish or something?"

No? Thank god.

Wait, this could be lucid dreaming, though.

The fact that you're having a dream of the game, it must've been triggered by your outbursts of your failure last night. Such a vivid and immersive experience, there's no more fitting answer than that. Were you so damn obsessed with the entire game to lead you this point?

You scoffed in disbelief, placing your hands on your waist as you poked your cheek with your tongue. This is stupid.

If this is a lucid dream, then.. If you recall it correctly, to exit out of it—it requires you to say a script out loud, or perhaps do a particular action such as exiting a door or running across a hallway to mimic the speed of time, so as to accelerate your brain back to its conscious mode.

Appalled by the sequences of this strange dream, you made up your mind as your eyes darted over the door. Here you go! Pushing the door open with your might, you're greeted by a strange hall filled with rooms on your either side. This is strange, you thought. Without wasting any more time, you sprinted down the stairs where you can see a ray of light illuminating the bottom of the stairs.

Jumping off, you took a leap—landing on your feet with a thud.

"Dear, what's going on?"

You froze on the spot.

That voice. That face. It can't be..

W-what is t-this?

You haven't heard it for so long. How long had it been? You lose your footing on the stairs, covering your mouth as your hand trembles, mimicking the rampant movement of your pupils. This portrait before you, one that was long forgotten, one you've last seen so long ago.

"H-how?" You found yourself falling into your father's arms, feeling his warmth. The sensation of his freezing palms when you held it in the morgue crashes back to your head. Am I in heaven?

Were you actually dead?

"D-dad!" You wailed in his arms, gasping for air, you tried to wrap your head in this dilemma. "Y-you know that I m-miss you so much! Why did you left without saying anything?!"

No response.

Wiping off the tears off your eyes as you pulled away, trying to take one more look at your long dead father. He can't be here, you've seen it, with your own two eyes when he was buried sixty feet underground.

But this man right here, that face. You're not mistaken. From the head to toe, it was just like the day you've last seen him. "You- you aren't real, are you?"

"Honey, sweetie, breakfast is ready!"

The voice of your mother caught you off guard, eyes darting swiftly at the door across the room—caught off guard by the voice calling for you from the kitchen. Mom? Why is she— Beside her, your elder sister and younger brother are seated in the dining room, waving their palms at you,

"M-mom? Sis? What are you all doing here?"

With questions growing havoc inside you, the appearance of your mother preparing food in the kitchen puzzled you deeper. You look over at the dining room where your siblings are seated, indulging in their phones with your father now joining them in the middle—reading his newspaper for the day.

A scene all too familiar that it crawls all over your skin with rampant fear.

Home. It felt like home. But at the same time.. its not.

"Am I really dreaming?" You cupped your face, feeling the evident warmth of your blood rushing to your cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

Your soul shrinks at that voice. A gasp escapes your throat as thousand no's shrouded your head knowing all too well that this is purely impossible. Before you knew it, tears spill once more from your eyes as you turned your head towards that voice—however this one bears no longing, nor sorrow—it was resentment swirling with humiliation.

The visage that brought your whole world crumbling into pieces, flooding back a long forgotten winter that cripples away your will to wait for the next spring.

You feel yourself turning small, vulnerable—a thousand needles absorbing into your ribs. "What are you doing-" Whimpering, you casted nervous glances at everyone, "W-why is h-he here..?"

Taking a few step backwards, as you release a shaky breathe.

"W-who let him in?"

You frantically glance at your family, desperate for a response, an answer. Whereby the pitch of your voice growing louder with every second that passes as they only casted you a spine-chilling stare.

A long, empty one.

"Who let him in here?!" You repeated.

"Sister? What's wrong?" He tilted his head down, bearing an innocent expression.

"S-sister?" You emitted a scoff of disbelief, raising your arm to harshly point at him and then towards the door. "What sick game are you playing?! Get out! Get out!"

"Why are you saying that to your brother, honey?"

"Brother? M-mom— Are you being for real?!"

"Why, honey? He is your brother, you grew up together."

You were on the verge of cursing when suddenly your family—every single of them, suddenly stood in synchronization.

Alarmed by the downright frightening scene, your feet instinctively step backwards. "W-what's going on?"

If fear was something you'd never truly comprehend before, then this one tops it all.

"What's going on?" Each one of them repeated the same sentence, voices layered on top of another, resembling a cult ritual. "Darling. This is your reality." They all look back at you.

Your heart palpitate rapidly, every muscle in your body pulsated in sheer terror. Voice dripped in heavy desperation, only for it to come out louder than you expected it to. "What the fuck?!"

Suddenly, the familiar robotic giggle reaches your ears from behind.

➤ .. SO HOW'D YOU LIKE MY GIFT? ➤ .. I BROUGHT THEM HERE FOR YOU, ➤ .. SO YOU WON'T BE SO LONELY.

Your blood-shot eyes snapped to its direction, stumbling backwards on the stairs with terror engulfing your soul.

"W-who are you?" You yelled at the top of your lungs. "What are you?!"

That thing resembling a computer display carries such a heavy presence with it, you can feel it crawling in your soul—the display screen gnawing at your frame despite its lack of facial expression. Mimicking your movement and the text box flashing in timed intervals indicating its next reply didn't do nothing but give you a heavy uneasiness.

This unsettling energy it carries as it begins to type out a new sentence.

You are aching so bad to get away from this thing as far as you can.

➤ .. WHAT CAN I SAY, WHAT AM I? JUST A LITTLE POP-UP TO GUIDE YOU IN THIS WORLD.

Your frown deepens, "Guide m-me? What?"

➤ .. I TOLD YOU, DIDN'T I? YOU'RE IN A GAME.

"Stop that bullshit! Just what kind of nightmare is this?!" Smacking yourself in the cheeks once more, yet harder than you did the first time.

With trembling hands, you try to force yourself to wake up from this terrifying nightmare.

➤ .. "TAKE A LOOK AROUND FOR YOURSELF, THEN, AND SEE WHERE YOU ARE STANDING RIGHT NOW. ➤ .. DOESN'T IT LOOK FAMILIAR?"

Splayed fingers over your eyes, you observed the whole space.

These peculiar animated expressions despite the humane features, despite being the faces you've held love for—it's akin to machines having a prosthetic skin glued on it, mimicking the data installed in their drive.

But it can't be. It's just completely impossible for you even to wrap it around your head.

You, in a game?

Heart rampant. Clammy hands. Your feet frantically deciding which way to go. Before your eyes caught on to the sun rays peering behind the closed curtains, rushing towards it— swiftly pulling it open.

No. It can't be.

With disjointed thoughts, eyes darting around you. You searched for logical explanations yet with this pounding chest, trying to form a coherent sentence. Your mind says that it can't be possible, but your eyes are saying otherwise.

"T-there's no w-way."

Yet as you turned your head to every single thing in this house, your blood runs colder and colder. Every single furniture you've tapped on a screen are now before your eyes. The hours you spent on navigating around the living room, before going on with your missions and side tasks—it was now all here.

All before your eyes. Where your fingers could feel the physical edges and corners. Every single thing.

➤ .. "YES YOU ARE! AIN'T IT FUN? A WHOLE NEW IMMERSIVE EXPERIENCE! ➤ .. YOU CAN NOW MEET JUNGWON, HIMSELF!"

No.

There's no way this was possible. You can't accept it. No. No. No.

"No, t-this is not it!" Stammering, you shook your head frantically. "T-this is n-not what I wanted!"

➤ .. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? ➤ .. DON'T YOU DESIRE TO MEET YOUR FAVOURITE BOY WITH YOUR OWN EYES?"

In your head, it sinks in deeper and thoroughly.

"I don't- I don't care!" Panic emerges inside you. "Is there a way out? There must be, right?! I don't want to stay here!"

➤ .. "OF COURSE YOU DO! WHY ELSE WOULD YOU TRY TO PLAY TWICE?"

"This is not what I mean!"

It came out louder than you expected, laced with sheer desperation as it finally sank in.

The ground doesn't feel real. Even this feet of yours. Everything is so out of place. The pitch of your voice spills out longer, dramatic and exaggerated. Your breathing grew heavier yet short, as if it were being pressed down by sheer gravity.

You look down on your hands, inspecting the finger prints yet it took just that before you clawed down your head as you imagined yourself in this vast virtual world where no one is alive but you.

You wanted to go back.

➤ .. "YOU DO. IT IS WHAT YOU WANTED IN THE FIRST PLACE. YOU'VE ACCEPTED MY INVITATION, REMEMBER? ➤ .. AND I DID NOTHING BUT GRANTED IT WITH PLIGHT."

You see nothing but red.

"Stop twisting my words." You spat out. "No! Bring me back! Th—this isn't what I wanted! You—whatever you are, please!"

"Just bring me back, to my home! I don't want to stay here!"

The pop-up remains silent, not typing out any response to your pleas.

The prospects of being trapped in here forever without any form of escape shrouded your thought with numerous case of scenarios of how lonely it would be, how scary it would be, rendering you to be totally emotional.

"How was I even able to get inside a game? That just isn't possible! Wake up, wake up!" You smacked yourself in the cheeks, pinching your arm only for you to let out a yelp.

It just floated, despite bearing no eyes. You felt like it was looking down on you with glee.

"Answer me! This was never stated anywhere in the game!"

Clutching on the table near you, struggling to keep yourself steady and composure.

You twisted your feet inwards, launching yourself to throw a punch at that thing, however it vanishes—causing you to fall on your hands. Hissing, It didn't deter you from trying once more, filling the space with your screams and profanities, however your humane limits is nothing in comparison with the swift and flawless dodges of the virtual pop-up.

You tried, over and over again.

Getting up countless of times, but not even a stroke of your finger could you land a hit on it.

➤ .. AN ADMIRABLE EFFORT, I MUST SAY. ➤ .. YET IT'S POINTLESS, MY DARLING.

Your feet paused on its tracks, exhausted beyond your limit. Fringe latching on your sweaty skin as you dropped on your knees in despair.

This... can't be your reality.

Clenching your fist tight, you pushed yourself up, racing towards the door, slamming it open only for you to squint your eyes at the blaring morning sunlight. Pushing you to look down to your bare feet planted against the asphalt, a strange feeling beneath your soles. It should've been ceramic..

Your body stiff as your eyes were presented with a sight you've never seen before.

Last night, you were inside your run-down apartment, three stories high where you could see the city tower beyond. Instead of the stairs greeting you in the morning when you opened your door, a gate stood across from you. High-rise buildings are nowhere to be seen, that should've been in high up there once you lifted your head up.

There was no way you could've been suddenly in a damn house. In a strange place. And in a town with its architecture's nothing close to where you came from.

Snapping your head to look behind you. Your stomach twisted and shattered in pits. It is that house.

➤ .. "ESCAPING IS FUTILE, MY DARLING. ➤ .. THIS WORLD IS ENDLESS, LIMITLESS. ➤ .. THERE'S NO POINT OF RETURN."

"Please, let me go!"

You can't be here. You still have work today. What if you lose your job? You have no knowledge of how time works here and there. Dropping on your knees, you crawled towards it—unsure of where to hold it, you clasped your hands together. "Please! I can't be here, I still have work! I still have to pay my bills! I— I haven't—"

➤ .. "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, DARLING? YOU AINT A FULL-FLEDGED ADULT YET. ➤ .. LOOK! YOU'RE GONNA BE LATE!"

It turns around to gesture inside the house, towards the clock on the wall—pulling your tear-filled eyes over it which are currently hovering at 7 AM sharp.

➤ .. "IT'S TIME TO GO TO SCHOOL."

"Bitch!" You spat out, gritting your teeth. "I've graduated eleven years ago! I don't want to play your stupid game!"

Screaming at it at the top of your lungs, growing desperate as the truth begins to sink in every passing second. Propelling your body to react in ways. Crying you did, sinking your body down in unfathomable depth of helplessness.

➤ .. "OH, DON'T CRY, MY SWEET DARLING."

"Is there really no way. . Out?" You mumbled to yourself amidst all the sniffing and heavy gasps. Overwhelmed by the truth alone.

➤ ..YOU JUST HAVE TO PLAY, AND PERHAPS YOU MAY BE ABLE TO RETURN. ➤ .. ALTHOUGH I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOU HUMANS, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED A BIG HOUSE LIKE THIS ONE. ➤ .. WEREN'T YOU JUST WISHING TO LIVE IN A MORE COMFORTABLE SPACE?

That hits you. It struck the spot inside you where it was most vulnerable. How did it know? You were terrified to ask. Glaring at it with seething rage,

"Whoever you are, I refuse to play your sick game! Who knows what else you got under your sleeve!"

➤ .. AW, SO, YOU DO NOT DESIRE TO LIVE ANYMORE?

Tongue tied, of course you don't want to.

It's not like you were fed up with life to that point despite even after all those years. This wasn't part of the plan. Not in a game where you'll meet your worse death in dreams. This wasn't where you wish to move to, and you refuse to submit. You still wanted to marry. Find a good man and have your own little family—one that is filled with tiny giggles.

"No. You can't force me to play." Clenching your jaw, you spat at it with spite. "I don't care if you kill me. Fuck you and your game!"

Your shaky breath and the searing rays of the sun echoes and echoes, the only thing that was compensating for its lack of response. As it didn't type out any sentences, as if it was trying to comprehend your sentences into its mechanisms.

Until it did.

➤ .. THAT'S NEW, INTERESTING!

It beams up much to your bewilderment, looking almost too delighted? The colors on its display glowed a few shades brighter, compensating for its lack of facial expressions.

➤ .. IF PERHAPS YOU FRET THAT YOU'LL BE LONELY, THEN DON'T BE! YOU ARE NEVER TRULY ALONE IN THIS WORLD.

"They aren't real." You spat out.

➤ .. THEY ARE, BUT NOT FOR LONG

Your eyes widened. "What do you mean..?"

XO ! ii. NEVERLAND'S SONARE

Youthful.

You scanned your features in the mirror, fingertips grazing over the skin under your eyes—where heavy and dark eyebags use to persists, giving you a feeble appearance. Your employer often points it out with distasteful comments, expressing with disdain of how your haggard looks might deter potential clients away and bring discomfort to customers. Of how you ruin the atmosphere, his mood, specifically when you appeared. He often compares you with your fellow co-workers that seemed to look after their appearances with ease.

You complied, yet despite your best efforts in treating it, it just never seems to go away. But now, such a youthful look only to be laced with sullen eyes—not bearing even an ounce of energy.

Everyone wishes to be young once more. What is youth if not to run wild and free across whatever land you may imagine? Away from whatever life you wished to run from?

Not all people define youth the same way, though. To others, it may mean physical appearances. Downing a bunch of so-called youth pills, going through dozens of procedures, going under the knife, or the fantasy aspects of searching for the youth of fountain.

Some people, though—it meant going back to the way they was before a certain event had happened. The innocent little them that was filled with vigor and curiosity for life. Those vivid memories. These kind of people go through therapies, though.

Youth, youth.

What a funny word.

Yet it has such a deepened effect, a strong grasp on everyone's heads. But would ever they accept to be in a game just for that sake?

Another, yet different popup appears before you, displaying a few options.

▶ TELEPORT TO SCHOOL

▶ TELEPORT TO TOWN

▶ TELEPORT TO BASEMENT

What a sick joke.

"Honey? Shouldn't you sit down for breakfast?"

You halted in your steps, gripping your backpack's strap. Perturbed by the scene of your family with your ex-boyfriend by the dining table, this was peak nightmare.

Suppressing the need to scoff at the image of your 'mother', it will never sit right with you, to sit down on the same table with the characters replicated as your family. Even more so with the replica of your father. So fucking twisted.

Your arms ache to embrace him but this is not your father. A home is supposed to be your bed of comfort, a shelter for protection yet this gives you an overwhelming feeling of strangers clumped up in one space. And him. You couldn't comprehend a single thing. Fitting so tightly, but never seems to belong together.

"I'm.." You gulped down, "Not hungry." You said, a little low for them to hear. But does that even matter? When they will eventually forget it, and return to their soulless routine.

You stepped out of the house for the second time, turning even more helpless and small by the sheer size of this map. This city. The street. The open shops. The pedestrian street. Its people. Children crossing the street with glee and joy.

Their innocent laughter sickens you, twisting the pit of your stomach.

The chill spring breeze blows a mouthful of cherry petals across the path ahead of you, dripping with the warm rays of the morning sun, accompanied by the chirping birds above the trees.

It almost looks too real. Just like all these younglings clad in their brightest uniforms mingling and walking alongside you, behind you, and in front of you—shrouding your line of vision, filling the air with their chatters and laughter.

The entrance to the academy greets your eyes with its opulent golden gate, the same scene that you often see whenever you started the game in your phone.

To stand in front of it was beyond your wildest dreams. A sense of dread envelops your body as you begin to step in, seeing the NPCs functioning according their monotonous coding; the teachers conversing with each other, and the students taking of their shoes and replacing it with the school's ones, heading to their respective classrooms or whatever their routine was for the day.

You gulped down, doing the same thing.

Sandwiched in-between them qualms your entire being, turning your legs into noodles. You almost losing your footing when you accidentally bumped against one of the NPCs, apologizing profusely which they in turn gave you subtle weirded out reaction before going off.

Your peripheral view caught the sight of the rooms; faculty, sewing, and so on. As you stood there, observing and observing; your eyes fell on a student with a camera on their hand, being wary of everyone else. Across the hall, you found the familiar scene of the martial arts club's members walking in a straight line. The occult club's leader strolling on his own as usual. The luscious partly dyed hair fading across the stairs, with their sweater knotted around their torso.

You still find it hard to believe, lost in your shrouded thoughts.

"Ugh!" You stumbled, almost falling on the floor if not for your quick reflex of gripping the nearest table. Turning your head to the brief apology behind you, you held the need to scoff. Of course, what is there to be surprised of?

"Oh! Sorry, didn't know you were here. You got too close, after all."

Neatly combed ginger hair, with eyes turning into crescents paired with a sweet smile. A sickening one, truth to be told. The all too familiar armband wrapped around their left arm and that pristine white uniform; the student council.

Your greatest enemy in this virtual world.

Equipped with spectacular wits, eagled eyes waiting for you to make one single mistake, hands itching to throw you into the faculty room once you do so. These students, five of them, in fact—don't trust you a single bit. You recalled the days of how pissed you were whenever they're suddenly appeared, ruining your mission, forcing you to restart all over again.

You mumbled a small it's okay, and she nodded in response, heading off to the opposite direction but not before taking a small peek at you. A gesture that is greatly embedded in their code. If anything, apart from the teachers and cops, the council is something you really have to watch out for.

Dealing with them isn't an easy feat, even trying to kill them is nearly impossible if you don't join the martial arts club first. All that club practices, and skills you have to increase. It was already difficult enough before, and now that you had to do it with your own hands. Things won't get easier from now on.

You'd have to memorize their routine in your mind to properly avoid them.

On the east side of the academy, you head to the second floor where across the hall—classroom 2-1 greets your line of vision. Your feet halted as your ears caught on the conversations of the students chattering about and on, some other students arriving at the spot.

Gripping tightly at the straps of your backpack as your eyes met the cold floor, blotted with differing size of shoes. You muster the strength to lift your head, where beyond you witness—the hymns of the cherry blossom in the courtyard reaches the space, serving as a visual instrumentation to this pretend play; set of movements controlled and navigated by the game's mechanisms.

And there he was as expected.

Across the classroom, beside the window—you could see Nishimura Ri-ki gazing out the vast field with pure concentration.

You made your way to your seat where it is highlighted by pink flurry lights.

Pulling the chair back, you seated yourself down. A wave of uncertainty washes over your soul now that you had the complete view of this classroom. You look beside you when you felt eyes drilling a hole on your head, only to see the boy staring at you down with an uninterested look, or rather an expression you were unable to read. Not caring any less by the obvious fact that he was caught.

"What are you looking at?" You asked, puzzled by the boy's deepened stare, striking a chord in your soul.

"As if I'm looking at you." Ri-ki mumbles, chin buried on his palms.

Taken aback by his lack of manners, you scoffed in disbelief. "E-excuse me?"

He rips his gaze on your frame, yawning as he stretches—deeply confusing you of this new set of movements and dialogues. It appalled you further when he just stood up, leaving as if nothing happened at all.

"Hey!" You called out, but he went on simply ignoring you.

You frowned at his lack of manners, but well it is to be expected as he is the youngest among the yanderes, he'd been in the same class as you since you started the game. Yet you've never got the chance to approach him as there were no dialogues option. He was a close off, deep in his world type of teenager. You could only see him around his members, and mostly Jake.

That's why it surprises you that he talks for the first time.

Or rather that he was surprisingly rude.

You'd forgotten a huge portion of information related to him due to his profile being situated in the very bottom, but he's supposedly attending the Drama Club but dropped out of it after skipping the club activities for nearly two weeks.

So.. everything functions like how it would in the real world, except for their repeated codes and routines. You'd thought that they would act like NPCs in the first place like the ones back in your home but you were proven otherwise, because they were not here yet.

The students in this classroom are.

You no longer have to press buttons, and all those generic options to gain social and reputation points. You would no longer need to approach them first to talk with the.

But for some reason, that words that didn't even amount to a proper conversation stirs something in you. It affected you. Because it felt too real. Almost like you were back in the real world seconds ago. But how is that even possible when you already knew why this virtual world ceases to exist.

Why it existed in the first place.

You held your composure as you seated yourself in the back of this classroom, with everything to bathe in your line of vision. A perfect audience seat to witness this orchestration of parody, of theatre, of life—surrounded with noises, yet it's so hollow.

The word "weird" is not the right word to describe your feeling right now. It was as if you were existing in-between space and time. A world that is in-between.

You don't belong here, yet at the same time, you do. You are alone, but you are not exactly alone.

Biting your lip, you clenched a fistful of your skirt as you lowered your head down, shutting your eyes tight.

➤ .. WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THIS GAME?

Appalled by its question, you remained silent---in which it lets out a robotic giggle paired with what you assumed to be a kaomoji.

➤ .. DON'T BE SHY! THERE'S NO SHAME IN DESIRING TO BE LOVED. TO BE THIRSTED FOR, AND TO BE CARED FOR, DON'T ALL WE? ➤ .. YOU PLAYED THIS GAME KNOWING WHAT ITS BASED ON, BUT DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW THIS GAME WORKS?

"Quit messing with me." You spat out.

➤ .. ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. YOU GUESS IT! WHAT MAKES A HUMAN, A HUMAN. WHAT MAKES THEM ALIVE. WHAT MAKES THEM, THEM; THEIR PSYCHE. ➤ .. SHALL A PLAYER LOSE; A FRAGMENT OF THEIR PSYCHE IS APPLIED IN THE GAME WHICH IN TURN MORPHS INTO A NEW FEATURE IN THE GAME. ➤ .. THE SHELL, WHICH IS THEIR BODY---IS UP TO ME TO DECIDE WHAT I'D LIKE TO DO WITH IT. ➤ .. ABSORPTION AS I CALL IT, YOU HUMANS CALLS IT 'UPDATE'!

"Ab-absorption?" As you read along the lines, something leaks out from behind your ribs. "Are you saying that there were.. p-people before me?"

➤ .. VERY SMART, MY DARLING. YES, EVERY SOUL IS SPECIAL AND UNIQUE, ➤ .. THEY BRING A WHOLE NEW FLAVOR TO THE GAME. WHAT THE GAME MAY TAKE, IT WILL DO SO ACCORDINGLY WITH THE HEART OF THE HOST. THE HEART DECIDES. ➤ .. ANY PSYCHE; LIGHT OR DARK; WHATEVER HAS THE MOST IMPACT IN THEIR SOUL ARE PULLED INTO THIS GAME. THEREFORE YOU CAN SAY, EACH PLAYER INFLUENCES THE GAME. ➤ .. YOU CAN CALL IT, THE PROOF OF THEIR LIFE. EMOTIONS, THEY'RE THE ONLY THING THAT IS ETERNAL AND IMMORTAL.

"Shoot!"

Students bursts into a fit of laughter, playing a silly game before class.

A groan surfaces.

"Guys, stop being so noisy. I'm trying to concentrate here!"

"Concentrate, on what? Exams?"

A round of giggles followed after.

Clawing your fingers over your head as you try to push off all these sounds, all these meaningless conversations. You knew this set of dialogues will be repeated again, again and again. Noises that don't held any thing in them.

A subtle knock echoed amidst the petty ordeals, capturing the classroom's concentration out of whatever they were currently at.

Numerous sets of eyes fell on the fragile and tiny frame of a girl with a bandana wrapped around her head, as she carries a tray full of baked muffins; a familiar image of a member of the cooking club.

"Hey, anyone wanna taste some muffins I made?"

A round of cheers and bouts of exclaimed hungers send shivers down your spine. You watched as each of them took their turns, taking the muffin from the tray.

"Hey,"

With heavy eyes, you met hers that was wholly empty, like looking into a deepest depths of a well, wondering if you'll ever capture something in motion, only to be greeted with somber reality that there was not.

"Want one?" Hair dripping in jet black, tied up in a half updo bun. Those words floated out of her faint pink lips that had subtle bite marks on them, it seems old and scarred. A gentle voice that complements her soft features. "Been trying to perfect this recipe, can you give me your feedback after you tasted it?"

Perfect.. perfect what?

You suppressed the need to scoff, instead forcing a painful smile as you took the muffin from the tray. "Thanks."

"Hanni! It tastes so good!"

"Oh my god, really? I'm so glad!"

All these faces.. This sheer size of the game, the fact that they were all here, meant that no one has ever truly won this game.

➤ .. THAT ..WILL BE YOUR ENDING IF YOU LOSE, WHEN YOU FAIL—THEY WILL, TOO END UP HERE WITH YOU. ➤ .. ISN'T IT LOVELY? ➤ .. BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER THEY SAY, YET THIS EMOTION CALLED 'AFFECTION' IS A LOT MORE STRONGER. YOUR AFFECTION FOR THEM IS THE REASON THEY'RE ABLE TO BE REPLICATED IN THE FIRST PLACE. I DON'T SEE WHAT'S THE PROBLEM THOUGH, ATLEAST YOU'LL BE WITH YOUR FAMILY! ➤ .. WON'T THAT STILL BE A HAPPY ENDING FOR YOU?

How is that a happy ending? You couldn't utter that one question. How is any of these a happy ending?

You laughed. A short yet broken one, with your eyes getting blotted with swirls. Sucking your lips in as you tried to understand it, yet your eyes mirrors your thoughts; pacing round and round. You don't even know where to begin. What even is this madness? It's insane. Terribly insane.

So, all this time.. You were playing a game made out of real people? Real people who used to live?

A stupid, stupid game you once found imminent solace in, are nothing but a mass graveyard. You could at least stand it a bit more if you weren't walking alongside with people that used to live. But no.

No wonder why this world is so vast.

Even that word is an understatement. A virtual world you could spend all your day in it. No. It's a stage, a dollhouse where the audience is also its mastermind, with strings attached on the puppets—ripping, tweaking, weaving, piecing together into an amalgamation of their desired character.

Those missing people plastered on posters all round the alleyways and all else, with a trace nowhere to be seen, as if they never existed in the first place. You've wondered if perhaps this is where they've fallen into. Some of them.

You wonder how each of them met their end? All of them must have failed in numerous ways, but one thing is clear; they lose and that's what leads them to their current state—once a fallen player, their existence will be wiped out..

From everything they've ever been, subjected to a monstrous aftermath.

A monster that preys and feeds on people's desires. A monster that rewrites new scenarios, events, and all sorts accordingly every time someone falls in and loses—then it makes perfectly sense, absorbing the players in it keeps the game alive.

How cruel.

You shook your head, breaking your brain in half trying to search for a way. "I'll play! Just please, don't put my family into this!"

➤ .. THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS, MY DARLING. THE ONLY WAY FOR THEM TO AVOID GETTING SUCK IN HERE WITH YOU IS FOR YOU TO 'UNLOVE' THEM. ➤ .. WOULD YOU BE ABLE TO DO THAT?

Your head fell down in agony. There's no way you could do that. That is beyond reality. You don't fell out love with someone in just a day, do you?

➤ .. NO RIGHT? ➤ .. WHY'D YOU THINK YOUR EX-BOYFRIEND WAS ABLE TO BE REPLICATED IN THE FIRST PLACE?

➤ .. THAT'S VERY WELL THE REASON WHY THIS GAME WILL REMAIN IMMORTAL WITH ITS HOSTS' ETERNAL SOULS. ➤ .. NOTHING IS ETERNAL BUT A HUMAN'S SOUL. WHY'D YOU THINK A MERE OBJECT COULD HOLD CURSES AND PROMISES? FEELINGS IMMORTALIZED EVERYTHING. ➤ .. HUMAN NATURE IS SO COMPLEX AND STRONG, YET SO FRAGILE. IT LEAKS OUT WHEN ITS BROKEN. SO LONG AS HUMANS BEAR THESE FORCES, NOTHING WILL EVER FLOATS AWAY. ISN'T THAT FASCINATING?

"Wait," You lifted your eyes from the floor, gulping down. "How about the yanderes themselves? W-were they once real people too?"

Its pink shade glowed and dimmed down.

➤ .. WHO KNOWS? ➤ .. WHAT DO YOU THINK? ➤ .. THAT IS FOR YOU TO KNOW WHEN YOU SUCCEEDED.

There it goes again. Playing with you.

"Then how do I win?" The question came out dry, filled with nothing but helplessness.

➤ .. YOU KNOW VERY WELL THE ANSWER YOURSELF, DARLING. IT'S SIMPLE. ➤ .. JUST MAKE SURE YOU GET TO BE THE ONE TO TIGHTEN HIS HEART STRINGS, AND NO ONE ELSE. ➤ .. AND THAT IS TO ELIMINATE ALL THOSE OBSTACLES THAT STRIVES TO BE THE APPLE OF HIS EYES. ➤ .. YOU MUST BE IT INSTEAD. ➤ .. AND YOU DO KNOW WHAT IT TAKES TO ACHIEVE THAT, RIGHT?

Right, it's very simple it's almost hilarious. You'll end up just like any side character if you fail to become the yandere's darling.

The law of attraction. You attract what you desire. Yet often times, you received it in the most twisted forms presented by life.

If you want to live, you have to make sure he falls for you and no one else.

These yanderes are unable to discern between genders. Male or female, any breathing living being is a threat in their love-sick perspective. The mere, mere you are perceived in this light where just being close with their darling regardless of proximity and labels—is as easy as labelling you a sore thumb or better yet a pest that latches to what they deemed as theirs.

Because to them, who the fuck do you think you are? You don't even deserve to breath the same air or step in the same ground as their darling. Absurd. But to them, their darling is the source of their oxygen. Taking away what gets them going is the same as murdering them. That's basically refusing them their human rights, you know?

So if you don't get that—then in their eyes, you're better off dead because you don't deserve it either.

They adorned this bright smile around everyone, being friendly and welcoming but beneath that facade was a seething intricate web of lies and manipulation, waiting to strike. If you were too dumb to notice or deduce all the signs, then it will only be by the end of the day, when the sun has set, when it's the moonlight's turn to conquer—will you only then know, that you've dug the path to your grave.

A creature governed by heart, molded by its whims and beats. Turning into a recipe for disaster.

Exhilarating, you're drawn to this very concept ever since. However, even when you've wish for this beings to exist, prayed for them even. It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be stuck in a game with one.

➤ .. ANY INQUIRIES, YOU MAY CHECK YOUR FLIP PHONE. IT CONTAINS EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW LIKE A HANDBOOK."

You fished out the object in question from your pockets, the flip phone back in the morning—it remains heavy on your palms despite its lightweight material, as it bears your life—containing everything.

Inside this, you are able to check everything that is necessary for you to know; tasks, favors, schedule, inventory, etc. The date is set in the year 2026, yet the phones they used were from twenty years ago—a world where social media hasn't reached its peak yet.

It's a world that stood in the midst of everything.

➤ .. FLIP PHONES WAS NOT A MAJOR FEATURE UNTIL ONE PLAYER WHO HAD AN OBSESSION WITH IT, FAIL. FASCINATING, ISN'T?

A world that is centered around its players' psyche. Then what will your existence bring into this game?

Only time could tell.

➤ .. GOOD LUCK!

Survive.

Yes. That's all I have to do.

The moment you lose everything that is you, you will be nothing but a part of the long lost souls in this deserted land of twisted roleplay game.

You just have to get through it. Make sure not to fail this time. Make him fall for you and not anyone else.

And him. Jungwon. You have to meet him soon. However you can't rush, one wrong move like you did will cost everything

There's one thing you have to consider though—your reputation; forget about getting close to Jungwon, your reputation meter itself is the second most important to your existence here as without it, you're but a burden to the society. The black sheep. You're basically nonexistent here.

All because of that choices and dialogues you've chosen so far in the game, you've set yourself up for failure. The pointer at your meter bar are hovering over the black section. You are left exactly of where you last played last night. The stakes are exceedingly high, dimming down every chance of light to come down your way.

You were already lucky enough to not have your progress reset, however that meant nothing but being perceived as one of Jungwon's rejected love confessions. A girl that has lose his favor. You'd have to find a way somehow to regain your reputation back and most importantly, his heart.

Pretend play, just like playhouse.

Your eyes lingered beyond the window, observing how the petals floated down. But how and where do you even begin? If you recalled it correctly; apart from attending classes, Jungwon's routine consists of hanging around with his friends, spend his alone time in the courtyard, attend his club practices, and then catch up with his friends outside the school's entrance after school. It won't be long till a girl comes around and sandwich herself into his life.

You cannot waste anymore time.

He must be roaming around the academy as of now, most certainly hanging around with his friends. The first period would be done about an hour from now, and he'd be occupied with his routine as well too.

But how the heck do you even approach him again? It would be so awkward and weird in his perspective when a girl he rejected, acts all lovey-dovey, and shameless at that. You might be even labelled as a weirdo, not knowing her boundaries despite being rejected.

Somehow, someway.. You would eventually have to resort to such methods. As much as you loathe the very word, they can either be your obstacles or you an turn them into your weapon. But can you even find the heart to do so? No, that's not the right question, are you even capable of doing that?

Your thoughts were interrupted by footsteps approaching from the distance, revealing a girl with shock illustrated all over her visage.

"Oh my god, guys! This is insane! You have to see this! There's a love confession happening in the courtyard and it's no one other than Yang Jungwon!"

She almost lose her footing as she relayed the message with downright glee, only for a multitude of questions and profanities to rose up in response.

"What?! Who is it?"

"Eh, who?"

"Wait, what?" It came out as a soft whisper, yet a stark contrast of your terror-filled eyes widening, an ear-wrenching creak from your chair emitted because of how you stood up so quickly, following after them.

What do you mean, a love confession?! I haven't even started yet!

The halls quake immensely like soldiers in their training, seas of shoes slammed against the floor all while multitude of questions arose in your head, where the words spilling out of the students' lips running alongside you only amplified your perennial dread.

Please, please, do not accept it! Please-

You let out harsh yelp when you suddenly collided against someone in full-force, forcing you to fall on your back. Your face scrunched at the throbbing pain in your muscles, clutching your back with greeted teeth. A series of grunts and hisses are layered on top of yours—cussing about how you should watch your steps. Your eyes shoot open, turning your head beside you—only to be met with another member of the Yanderes.

Park Sunghoon. The side of his face planted on the floor, whilst his books and assignment papers scattered about in a mess.

Horror engulfed your features, immediately pushing yourself up. Apologizing profusely as you collected the books and the papers, gathering them in your arms, rearranging them back neatly.

The boy slowly sat up with disheveled hair, lifting his head up with grim expression and narrowed eyes behind those glasses—specifically directed at you. Getting up on his knees, he dusted his pants with a hiss all while fixing his vest back.

"I see that you have eyes just like everyone else," Sunghoon leans forward, an intimidating aura emitting from him causing you to step backwards. "Atleast watch where you're going?"

His lips twisted in a sneer as he spoke, clearly showing you that he is not at all impressed by your clumsy mistake.

"I-I'm sorry—" You stammered, your eyes trembles as it met his brown ones, despite being obscured by the faint lens, it was immensely vivid; swirling in the sands of the sizzling dessert, fiery and intense—you could feel it scorching in your skin, a stark contrast from his icy skin.

So close, you could examine his features decorated with moles, and down at his faint red lips. He did not say anything, yet those blazing pupils examined your features as if it was searching for something.

This is not good. A potential yandere. You don't know why, but you had this inkling creeping inside you that you shouldn't associate yourself with other yanderes except for Jungwon.

"Kid," Leaning away, he let outs a 'tsk' with a frown, perching up the rims of his glasses neatly on the bridge of his nose before snatching his stuffs from your arms, using his other hand to gesture towards his eyes. "Next time, use your eyes more."

Finishing it up by shooting you a glare, and then heading off. You stood there in bewilderment as his silhouette faded in the distance, wondering what had just happened.

Yet you let out a relief exhale.

Park Sunghoon. What was it about him again? The generic description of him being an icy prince bounces back in your head, turning on a beaming lightbulb. Despite being labelled as that, he attends the Cooking Club much to everyone's surprise, together with his fellow member Jay.

The two of them often spent the afterhours experimenting with recipes, forcing their fellow members to taste the dishes they made. It was returned with a slight acknowledgement from Heeseung, commenting that it's not bad, followed by a couple of nods from rest. However you recalled how your stomach aches during a bout of laughter when Jungwon almost choked after—

Wait! You snapped your head behind you, the love confession!

Sprinting to the location where many other students gathered in front of the window shoulder-to-shoulder.

The glass panes of the academy were filled up to the brim, spilling with faces illustrated with variety of expressions; intrigue, interest, disbelief, and envy—all pushing their heads out to get a much better view of the courtyard. The entire commotion echoing the morbid chaos of Baroque paintings.

Yours was illustrated with an invisible weight of a noose looped around your neck. An invisible weight of stones slamming against your face as you halted your steps, nearing the edge of the window.

Like an auditorium with their utmost concentration glued on the stage; a theatre play of a romantic tale, an union of two hearts yet its nothing but a masquerade of your eventual execution.

As beyond that window, a girl you've never seen stood before him. Propelling your eyes to rattle in immense storm, your heart sailing in amidst the raging crimson ocean.

W-where the fuck did she even came from?

It should've been you.

It should've been you beside him—

Your face stiffened, a gasp caught in the back of your throat as your lips fell apart in inches. Everything slowed down except him; everyone, that girl, and you.

This heart behind your ribcage palpitates in a different motion; striking a chord that pounded your veins, till it submerged your eardrums in its frenzied rush. The desire to let yourself fall in his arms grew immense.

Your pupils snapping and panning closer akin to a camera lens, searching deeper for the features that spells your purpose for life. Closer. You couldn't make out the outline of his face. Trying one more time, blinking frantically as the rims of your eyes tears up.

There he was, standing in the courtyard—Yang Jungwon under the the cherry blossom tree, where the dropping petals adorned his visage, bringing in the saccharine touch of life. Exuding sheer perfection, captivating the audience's heart.

This charming aura he carries, laid-back demeanor, the way his fringe sways alike silk with the hush of the spring breeze. It's all too exhilarating. Heartstrings looped around your poor heart. Moonstruck. It propels your eyes to shy away like the moon does.

Chaos.

You wince at the sudden increase of volume reaching your ears, clutching your ears as you yelp with your eyes shut tight.

This trance-like spell, you snapped out of it with terror. Noticing the rosy tint that engulfs your vision whenever it fell on him. This entire landscape bathing in saccharine pink. The rhythm of your heart mimicking his breathing patterns, it aches. How your eyes swell into love-sick hearts against the window's reflection. It perturbed your soul.

What the fuck. This isn't you.

A fatal trouble, you're truly deep into it.

It felt like your face were being pushed into a well against your will.

It must be the game mechanism turning you this way—to be thrown into the same state as the game character you were playing, it sends chills down your spine. You slapped yourself to reality. He isn't real.

"What is she doing?"

"Is that Minji?"

Your ears caught on to the name spilling out of numerous arrays of lips.

That girl, Kim Minji. Enunciating the name on the tip of your tongue, it prompted your head to tilt sideways in confusion. You've never heard or encounter this character in the game before, or perhaps you've miss her existence by not bothering to check the entire NPCs' list.

But..

You were given a second chance to play one more time, so why is there another girl here..? This game functions on love confession, and who ever the girl is—if its accepted by your chosen yandere—then she won.

It will be game over.

However you were dead sure, today wasn't Friday yet. Fishing out your flip phone from your pockets, you flicked it open—eyes widening in fear as the date displays the third day of the week, Wednesday. Two days before the supposed deadline.

"Jungwon, I like you!"

The three words you've been dreading she had uttered.

She immediately shut her eyes tight with her cheeks illustrated with the deep hues of a blossoming rose, eyebrows knitted together, gripping her skirt into shambles within her digits.

Your knuckles involuntarily clenched on the edge of the window.

A series of gasps and murmurs emitted in unison, forming a rather comical orchestration. Some finds it utterly hilarious, leaning into their friend's ears—uttering about how Jungwon would never find her interesting and that her confession was all too vain. There are plenty of interesting faces dripped in the finest wines in the seas of cherry blossoms, far more suitable and deserving of his love, so how could she—a mere girl—are able to catch his interest?

Your lips fell slightly apart, not being able to process the words you're hearing right now as that girl is what you definitely would not call 'mere'. Hush whispers and gossips followed through, one after another, refusing to fleet into nothingness—as it was stuck in the heavy pungent jealousy, tied even tighter with woven prayers for Jungwon to reject her.

They kept chanting; a fool. She's a fool. A fool is all she is. A love confession in the courtyard, for everyone to see. She's setting herself up as the object of amusement, a clown of the year.

This game is truly twisted.

Silence eventually befalls as everyone waited in patience, ribs swelling down with the amount of breathe they took in their lungs, anticipating for Jungwon's answer.

The boy opens his mouth, his expressions unreadable. The tension heavy in weight, with everyone paralyzed and stuck between the two answers. Lips are sewn tight. Wishes differ. Yet those four words bears the flame to your torch of life.

If he.. if Yang Jungwon says yes to this love confession, you're gone for good. Vapored away. Spelling the end of your existence.

Please. Prayers shrouded your mind.

Please don't accept it.

I haven't even started yet!

His outstretched palms reached for the girl's, "I like you too, Minji." Jungwon pulls a shy smile, an affectionate gaze swirling in his eyes.

The girl in question, were filled with aghast, her eyes swimming in bliss as she covered her mouth with her hands.

It was as if time had stopped.

His response elicited a spur of tumultuous reactions from every single student present in the academy; one helping out their passed out friend, with one choking on their sandwich, and the other with their jaw dropped on the ground—while you, are having flashes of your death and your family's tragic end; the scene of you lying down in a pool of blood, while the members of your family falling down into the game—where all of you will eventually lose your consciousness—memories and identities vanishing from the world as if you didn't exist at all.

T-this can't be happening. You shook your head in denial.

Your line of vision drowning into the distant sea, morphing into a crashing storm. Swallowing a sore lump down your throat, you gripped the window's edge, fingers rattling as you watched the entire ordeal playing out.

A portrayal of parody.

It's hopeless. You are going to die.

These rampant thoughts piled up one after another in your head, clouding you with sporadic paranoia as your feet turned outwards, walking away, slowly accelerating in speed—hugging yourself as you choke up on your tears.

XO ! iii. PERSONA

You're done for.

Hiding in the storage room, curling yourself down as you covered your head with your hands. With a thousand apologies to your family all while waiting for death to come and get you. You lamented the day you ever came to found this game.

A pink glow of light illuminated the soles of your feet, turning the space into a well-lit theatre—with you as the main spotlight.

➤ .. WHAT'S WITH ALL THAT FACE?

"I lose." With a hoarse voice and tears dried, you look down your palms---observing its deepened etches. "It's game over."

➤ ..GAME OVER? WHO SAYS? ➤ .. YOU KNOW YOU STILL CAN GET HIM.

"What do you mean I can? He already accepted it! Wasn't that the point?"

➤ .. ACCEPTED WHAT? THE LOVE CONFESSION? THAT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING, A GIRLFRIEND IS ALL SHE IS ➤ .. NOT HIS DARLING.

"H-huh?"

➤ .. HIS EYES.. A LOOK OF FONDNESS IS ALL HE HAD FOR THAT GIRL, NOT THE LOOK OF OBSESSION. HIS LOVE METER HAVEN'T EVOLVED INTO WHAT WE CALL A YANDERE METER. THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAD JUST STARTED IN LESS THAN 40 MINUTES. ➤ .. THAT'S WHY YOU HAVE TO GET HIM BACK, AS QUICK AS YOU CAN, BEFORE HE FALL DEEPER. BECAUSE IF HE DOES, DEPENDING ON THE ROUTES YOU TAKE, YOU MIGHT BE UNFORTUNATE TO UNLOCK THE ENDING WHERE YOU ARE MURDERED BY THE YANDERE HIMSELF.

"Get him back? How am I supposed to do that?" How is he supposed to look at you now that he already had a lover, whom he'd rather spend time with? Even if he hasn't turn into a yandere yet, that doesn't make anything easier.

Both paths remains bleak, filled with razor-sharp spikes protruded ahead.

➤ .. WHATEVER YOU MAY CHOOSE TO GO WITH; RUIN HER REPUTATION BY SPREADING RUMOURS, THAT WOULD DO THE TRICK BY GETTING JUNGWON WARY OF HER. BUT ITS QUITE A HASSLE, AND DOESN'T DO YOU AY GOOD AS YOUR REPUTATION IS NOT THE VERY LEAST INTERESTING TO LOOK AT.

You obviously can't.

Gossiping is a deal-breaker. You might've accomplished your goal by tainting her reputation but the price in return accost you in the end. It doesn't benefit you at all as you will be labelled as the 'gossiper'.

➤ .. MAYBE YOU COULD GET HER EXPELLED, BY PUTTING FORBIDDEN STUFFS IN HER BOOKBAG. BUT THAT'S RATHER RISKY? THERE ARE COUNTLESS OF METHODS, YOU CHOOSE.

You remain silent, shaky pupils boring a hole on your hands as you weighed the risks. The receiver of the greater risk is always you. A single mistake costs everything.

➤ .. THEN YOU CAN KILL HER.

Your eyes widened. "No.." Your head shook on its own. "I c-can't do that."

➤ .. WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH IT? ➤ ..IF YOU WANT TO PLAY IT SAFE, PERHAPS GET SOME RAT POISON FROM THE MARKET. SHE WILL BE GONE BEFORE YOU KNEW IT. IT WOULD BE A SPECTACLE, A SIGHT, EVEN!

"I. Will. Not. Kill. Her."

You emphasized, stressing each single word, showing your resolute determination.

There's no way you'd stoop down that low.

Its suggestion was beyond your capability of understanding, nor was it an acceptable one in the first place. You've failed to comprehend how it can utter such chilling topic in such a leisure manner.

And there was no way you could ever bring yourself to witness them relive death for the second time.

➤ .. HUH? WHO CARES? THEY'RE ALREADY GONE, WHAT'S ALL THAT REMORSEFUL LOOK FOR?

It just doesn't feel right. It doesn't sit well with you.

Who were they before they fell into this game?

What did they do?

What did they love to do?

What were their last words before they were gone?

It imbued your insides with a heavy weight, driven with guilt to think of these people with lives they used to hold that was now nothing but an empty hollow shell. Their flesh and skin used as a mere toy.

They aren't just people to you. People aren't static objects. They're beings.

Everywhere you look; all you could see was people that once a life worth of memories before, now sucked up and absorbed as nothing but a code of repetition, and the proof of them living now but a feature that glares against your face.

They're now a burning memory.

➤ .. THIS IS WHAT THE GAME IS FOR, YOU'D THINK YOU STILL HAD YOUR MORALITY INTACT? YOU DON'T SEEM TO CARE MUCH FOR THEM WHEN YOU GO ON A KILL STREAK THAT DAY?

"That doesn't count!" You exclaimed, gritting your teeth. "I never knew they were real people—like who would have think so?"

➤ .. BUT YOU ENJOYED IT. ➤ .. I'VE NOT YET FORGOTTEN HOW YOUR EYES LOOKS LIKE THAT DAY.

Hissing with desperation, you looked down on your splayed hands.

"No.. It was never supposed to be like this." You shook your head, "The game doesn't even work this way, I was suppose to get him before the love confession, two days before Friday! What did you change?!"

➤ .. DON'T YOU GET IT? ➤ .. YOU'VE FAILED ONCE. I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR PROGRESS BEING RESET, DARLING. THIS WAS AFTER YOUR 'GAME OVER'. ➤ .. IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR SOUL, YOU ARE GIVEN A SECOND CHANCE TO REDEEM YOURSELF BEHIND THE SCENES. ➤ .. WITH HIGHER STAKES, OF COURSE.

Tears begin to spill from your eyes, "No. . I can't win this way."

Lips trembling as you say so, memories from the past rushing back and flooding your insides with a heavy weight.

Higher stakes? For what? All you wanted was to play. To get into your little fantasy world, devoid of stress. The world was already too far from perfect. With this fucked up corporate life, filled with capitalism, never-ending bills---at this point, you're only surviving through all of it, not living.

But have you been really living all this time?

Everything else in the world has far more worst things that happened to them than you do. But with this small void in your heart, it shouldn't be wrong to be embrace by a little warmth, someone to cup your cheeks in their hands as they press a tender kiss on your forehead, right?

It shouldn't be wrong to indulge yourself in your little silly fantasies. So why?

➤ .. SPARE YOURSELF FROM THE ILLUSION OF GAIN WITHOUT SACRIFICE, MY DARLING.

Nothing is truly free.

This world has always given you an illusion of choice but the thing is, nothing is really free. You may have given something in an exchange for nothing, but life will soon claim it in numerous ways and various forms you could never imagine.

➤ .. OH COME ON NOW! ➤ .. AIN'T THIS A ONE LIFETIME CHANCE FOR YOU? ➤ .. YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH MURDER UNLIKE IN THE REAL WORLD!

"That isn't right." Your head drops down in downright despair. "J-just.. just kill me, I can't do this. Your fucking twisted game.."

➤ .. OH DARLING.. WHY BOTHER ABOUT SOME PETTY LIVES BUT YOUR LOVED ONES? ➤ .. WHO WOULD YOU CHOOSE, A STRANGER WHOSE LIFE NO LONGER EXISTS OR YOUR FAMILY WHO STILL HAVE THEIR WHOLE LIVES BEFORE THEM?

You stiffened. How? How did you actually forgot, how can you forget? Your family.. All these emotional outbursts has rendered you totally hopeless to the point you forgot for a split second that you're not the only one at the stake.

"I will not kill her! I'll find a way.." You clasped your head, desperately trying to think of a better option. "There's got to be some way... Right! The match-making method!"

➤ .. HOW FASCINATING.. ➤ .. YOUR MORALS ARE STILL QUITE INTACT DESPITE HAVING YOUR MENTAL PSYCHE SLOWLY REGRESSING.

What? You lifted your head back up, sniffing and gasping. "What are you saying? R-regressed.. w-what?"

➤ .. WELL, I'M CERTAIN THAT YOU'VE NOTICE SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH YOU?

You remained silent. Yet as your eyes fell on each word it typed out next, it widens in terror.

➤ .. YOUR YOUTHFUL LOOKS.. ARE NOT THE ONLY THING THAT RETURNED, YOUR MENTAL AND EMOTIONAL PSYCHE AS WELL. IN OTHER WORDS, MENTAL REGRESSION. ➤ .. YOU KNOW THE SAYINGS, YOU MAY BE EIGHTY, NINETY, BUT INSIDE YOU'RE STILL THE SAME. ➤ .. I TOLD YOU, DIDN'T I? YOU AIN'T A FULL-FLEDGED ADULT YET.

"You!" Pushing yourself upwards, gritting your teeth.. "What else you didn't tell me about?! You wanted me-" Pointing at yourself harshly. "To play your game yet you're treating your own player like this?"

➤ .. THERE'S NO FUN IN TELLING YOU EVERYTHING AT ONCE. WHAT'S A GAME FOR IF NOT FOR THAT SOLE PURPOSE? ➤ .. YOU FIGURE OUT EVERY SINGLE THING YOURSELF. WHAT AM I, IF NOT A LITTLE POP-UP TO GUIDE YOU ONCE IN AWHILE. ➤ .. THE REST IS UP TO YOUR WITS AND ABILITIES TO SURVIVE.

"What else didn't you tell me then?!" You yelled at the top of your lungs, clenching your fists tight. "Tell me now!"

➤ .. OH DARLING, NOW THAT'S WHAT I LOVE! ALRIGHT, THEN. ➤ .. DO YOU KNOW.. YOU MAY DO AS YOU WANT YET YOU HAVE TO HURRY. ➤ .. BECAUSE YOUR SOUL WON'T WITHSTAND STAYING IN THIS WORLD ANY LONGER.

"W-what do you mean?"

➤ .. RIGHT! I'VE ONLY TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN AFTER YOU LOSE, THE FINAL PHASE OF ABSORPTION. ➤ .. NOT ABOUT THE FIRST PHASE.. YET, THE PROCESS OF ABSORPTION.

The terror swirling inside the pit of your stomach grew tenfold. First phase..?

➤ .. ARE YOU SCARED? DON'T BE! I THOUGHT I'D SPARE YOU FROM THIS KNOWLEDGE A LITTLE BIT LONGER, YET THIS VIGOR OF YOURS INTRIGUES ME. ➤ .. YOU KNOW, ABSORPTION DOESN'T START THE MOMENT YOU FAIL. IT STARTED THE MOMENT YOU'VE ACCEPTED MY INVITATION. ➤ .. YOU CLAIMED YOU DON'T WANT TO KILL, YET DARLING, THAT'S FAR FROM THE TRUTH. YOU'VE ALREADY DONE IT ONCE. ➤ .. BECAUSE THE SKIN IN WHICH YOU WERE PLAYING ALL THIS TIME, THE 'YOU' THAT LOSE LAST NIGHT IS ONE OF THE FALLEN PLAYERS' SKIN. BY ACCEPTING MY INVITATION FOR A SECOND CHANCE, A SECOND TRY. YOU'VE AGREED TO USE YOUR OWN SKIN, REMEMBER? ➤ .. THEREFORE IN THAT VERY MOMENT, IT HAD BEGUN.

Every single word it types out struck you deeper and deeper.

➤ .. AND NOW, YOU'D THINK THAT YOU ARE STILL YOU. WELL YES, IN FACT, YOU STILL ARE. ➤ .. BUT THE FIRST PHASE IS.. HOW CAN I SAY? IT BEGINS.. WITH YOUR YOUTH SLOWLY AND AND GRADUALLY RETURNING BACK. ➤ .. YOU'LL LOOK MORE YOUNGER WITH EACH DAY. ➤ .. AND THEN YOUR SOUL WILL START REGRESSING TO THE VERY MOMENT YOU EXPERIENCE THE PEAK OF EMOTION; JOY, BLISS, LOVE, WRATH.. THE POINT OF LIFE WHERE IT HAS IMPACTED YOU THE MOST. YOU WILL FIND YOUR MEMORIES FROM THAT POINT GROWING MORE VIVID AS IT WAS YOUR FIRST TIME TO EXPERIENCE IT. ➤ .. IN A SENSE, THE YOU FROM THAT PARTICULAR POINT WILL RETURN. ISN'T THAT FUN?

"Are you s-saying," Stuttering, struggling to form coherent words according to what you just read. "T-that everyone," You paused, engulfed with disbelief. "—around here.. was stuck in a particular age?"

➤ .. CORRECT! ITS THE AGE WHERE THEY FEEL THE MOST INTENSE EMOTIONS FOR THE FIRST TIME. ➤ .. KIND OF LIKE, TIME TRAVELLING BUT A LITTLE DIFFERENT!

Your lips fell apart.

Everyone here.. are the manifestation of when their psyche receives the most impact. As if getting absorbed here wasn't enough. They even had to suffer?

➤ .. BUT IT DOESN'T END THERE.

It twirls around, with its pinkness glowing brighter in shade every passing second. It leans closer, looking down at you.

➤ .. TO RETURN TO THE REAL WORLD. YOU WILL HAVE TO CONQUER THE WHIMS OF YOUR CHOSEN ONE'S ➤ .. HOWEVER, THE LONGER YOU TAKE TO WIN HIS HEART. ➤ .. THE MORE YOUR BODY AND SOUL WILL ROT.

"What do you mean by r-rot? In what way.. will I rot?" You stammered, suffocated by the entire revelation.

It beams up so bright it strains your eyes.

➤ ..THE MOMENT IT STOPS RIGHT WHERE YOUR PSYCHE EXACTLY ARE, WHERE IT REMAINS. ➤ .. YOU WILL START TO ROT.. IN A WAY YOU FEAR THE MOST. YOUR FEARS MANIFESTING AND DEVOURING YOU ALMOST LITERALLY! YOU MAY WONDER WHY? HUMANS ROT WHEN THEIR EMOTIONS ARE AMPLIFIED INTO A VOLUME THAT RENDERED THEM UNABLE TO THINK. ➤ .. ISN'T IT FASCINATING? EACH SOUL TRULY HAS ITS UNIQUE FLAVOR, REMEMBER? AND THATS WHAT MAKES EVERY SOUL A FREAK SHOW TO WITNESS!

Sheer terror illuminated your pupils, sucking out each hope of ever returning to the real world.

You could feel it—shreds of your remaining sanity slipping away.

➤ .. THE CODES FEEDS ON HUMAN'S FRAGILITY, MIMICKING ITS COMPLEXITY ALL WHILE ABSORBING ITS HOST AS A PART OF IT. ROLLING OUT FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT! ➤ .. THAT IS THE FINAL PHASE. ➤ .. BY THEN, IT IS MY CHOICE WHETHER TO TURN YOU INTO ONE OF MY PAWNS, OR DISCARD YOU. I CAN EITHER TURN THE FALLEN PLAYERS INTO THE NPCS YOU SEE EVERYDAY, LIKE A DOLL! OR INTO THE COLLECTIONS OF SKIN FOR PLAYERS IN THE REAL WORLD TO PLAY. ➤ ..DO YOU GET IT NOW?

No, I don't get it.

You sat there, staring off into the space, chanting that sentence in your head all while dealing with the horrifying fact that your life truly no longer belongs to you. Paralyzed in downright fear.

Tangled in this predicament, called hell.

Not a single reaction surfaces from your face. Your head drops down like a hand stitched doll with its neck ripped in half, showcasing an image of its head supported by a snapping piece of thread. Met with the sight of your shoes, you would really never be able to return home, do you?

"Why.." You mumbled in a low voice.

"I don't get it." Getting up on your knees, filled with despair. The suffocating pain inside you contorts into madness, exploding you finally did. "W-why are you doing this to me?!"

You bawled, yelling at it in the top of your lungs, shaking with rage shook with rage as red hot tears streamed out the rims of your eyes.

"Why did you even exists?" Punching your chest, you flailed your arms around. "Why are you doing this to all of us?!"

"What did we do to you?!" A long, stretched out wail of agony poured out of your throat. "You're a monster!"

"No, am I?"

Your jaw dropped on the ground. As the popup morphs into a pink cat before your very eyes, propelling your body to stumble backwards in panic. It slowly crawled its way to you with its tail growing and stretching out like an organ, till it wraps around your neck in swift motion.

"G-get away! Get away from me!" Its death grip around your neck had you choking, suffocating, gasping for breath.

"Perhaps your lover?"

As the cat forms another new persona—your ex-boyfriend. The rims of your eyes gathered tears. You writhe in pain. legs kicking in frantic motions as those tail are now but long pair of hands suffocating you to death.

"Or your mother?"

The grip loosens, a hand caresses down your temple—wiping off the trailing sweat with such an affectionate manner. Rendering you completely paralyzed by the hands of your 'mother'.

"Or.. my dear pathetic self?"

A deafening slap echoes in the empty air. You clutched your face tight, puzzled and unstable. A mirror. The reflection of you standing before your eyes, yet with her lips twisted in a sneer. A downright replica of you. Every edge of its visage looks exactly like you.

Yet she acts nothing like you.

An orchestration of yourself plays out; spewing all your thoughts, the one you keep yourself. Uttering about how she hates herself for being so stupid. For confessing in the first place. For being such a useless person. Every single thing you kept inside you, she utters with no regards to anything.

"S-stop! Stop doing this to me!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, wailing in agony, covering your ears with your hands to block out the hysterical savageness.

Vulnerable; it was as if your skin were being ripped out, exposing your flesh and blood, everything inside you into a freak show. To see it play out like a drama in front of your eyes humiliated you.

A few beats of silence echoes.

You lifted your wavering eyelashes to see yourself looking down at you with the most menacing smirk.

"This is only a piece of what I have yet to know about you." She tilts her head playfully, approaching you in slow steps. "Remember, the longer you take... The more I get to know you, understand you, act like you, and finally be you. Now do you understand?"

Biting your lip, you force yourself to nod— praying for this nightmare to end once and for all. Your doppelganger broke into a laughter, before her eyes swell into what you can very well decipher as pity.

"Oh, don't look at me that way." She coos, lowering herself down to your fetal position. "It makes me sad, I am neither your enemy or friend. I'm just a little guide, here and there. You wish for a reality where you desire to be craved, and I gave you just that."

She knelt down, extending her palms to you. Your glossy eyes trembled, hesitating. To your surprise, she pulled you into her embrace. Caressing your hair with her palms suffocatingly tender.

"Oh dear me, I just have to take that boy's heart, make him fall for me, make him die for me.."

You barely stifled a yelp of pain when she yanked you away in great force, a gasp spills out of your lips when the same heavy rose pink tint flooded your vision.

"You have to make this man kill for you."

His feline eyes gazing into yours, deep and close—speaking right in front of your face, holding and sinking his fingers on both your arms.

The visage of Jungwon.

He leans in forward, intertwining your both of your wrists in his grip before pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

Your cheeks flushed involuntarily as his lips came into contact with your neck, colliding behind your earlobe occasionally—sending tingles of goosebumps across your body.

"Make him hold you close, kiss you, and vow his life to you."

This explicit touches under his visage riled up your hormones, twisting an unfamiliar knot below your belly, alarming you. With your trembling arms, you tried pushed him away with your legs yet his grip tightens on your wrists causing you to hiss in pain—a single teardrop escaping the rim of your eye, mirroring your desire to escape.

Pair of strong arms manhandling you, forcing you into a position. Your ears are deafened by this pounding heart behind your chest, as he wipes off the tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"You know, I recall the days where my previous darlings, all of had given me the best and worthy performances, yet a few stood out the most."

His pretty eyes floated off the distance, as if reminiscing the old days.

"There was this one who didn't care at all of the NPCs in this game. He goes on a kill streak, obsessed with achieving the genocide ending. He amuses me yet was so hasty—he forgot that there was a witness escaping his hands."

A spine-chilling giggle floats out of his lips as he continued. "And another one no longer has the will to live her life whatsoever, leaving herself to rot till the very end."

"Ah! I remember," He beams up, "There was this one boy who was also just like you, he broke down into shambles after knowing everything. He swore he would never hurt anyone, but he soon lose control as he slowly reverts to his younger self, by then he's nothing like he was as an adult. He was so terrified of himself that he threw himself off the school roof."

Humming a certain tune, he gripped your shoulders—lifting your jaw up with her thumb, forcing you to look into her eyes.

"That's why you have to work for it, my darling. You don't have much time, after all. Make him yours, then all of him—he shall dedicate to you."

And then your vision flashes. Dropping on your elbows when the grip holding your wrists up vanishes. With no one in this room but you. Till you lifted your head to see the same pop-up—glowing and floating with ease.

➤ .. SONARE, YOU MAY CALL ME THAT.

Sonare?

Electrocution sparks in your veins, propelling you to wince at your hand. Your back curled involuntarily, clasping your chest almost immediately as you felt something inside. Crawling and devouring.

Its starting.

It's only about time where you'll witness the manifestation of your deepest fears.

➤ .. ISN'T THIS WHAT LIFE IS? IN PURSUIT OF SOMETHING, THAT IS HOW HUMANS LIVE. OR ELSE, HOW ARE YOU ABLE TO MOVE?

Mental regression, your soul rotting, your family. Everything else is at stake.

Clenching your fists tight on the floor, you lifted your head up forcing a short laughter. Tears had dried, only to be replaced with the sticky sensation latching on your cheeks.

"I can ask for your help.. right?"

➤ .. YOU MAY CALL ME WHEN YOU'RE IN DIRE NEED OF HELP, BUT THAT DOESN'T GUARANTEE THAT I'LL ALWAYS COME TO YOUR AID. ➤ .. IT'S NO FUN WHEN PLAYERS KEEPS GETTING HINTS.. ➤ .. YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN NOW.

Death.

A loop that could never be broken. You felt as if your life are slipping away from the tips of your fingers every passing second.

Sniffing in as you wiped off your tears with your collar, you headed to the cafeteria with a heavy heart, you went on with the tray like everyone else. You lost track of time, not having any knowledge of what had happened right after you the entire sequences of events.

You're drained.

Chewing on the meat, you sat alone just as you expected. Everyone else had their own circles, and the canteen are spilling with enmeshed voices in various rhythms. You'd find it kind of comfortable to just listen to back then, even when you'd have no one to talk with, just listening still gives you a little comfort. A fantasy world on your own.

But now all of their conversations is made up of a set of codes, repeating accordingly with their task of the day.

Take a breathe, you tell yourself.

You have a long way to go.

Go back to square one. School rivals. Just how many are there? Ten. There are a total of ten rivals. You had to eliminate all of them to survive.

Before you could even reach him, you'd be dead by all these delinquents, crazy fangirls, and students digging their eyes on you. Acting on your missions possessed great risks.

Just making one single error can cost your life; getting caught by one of the students while acting on your missions means getting expelled. Student councils, teachers, and the detectives themselves. It's such a terribly long path with thorny traps and blood spilled.

Refusing to do your missions. Death.

Getting caught. Death.

Expelled. Death.

Failing to win his heart and turning him a yandere for you. He'll be the one to lead you to your graveyard.

It's either theirs, or yours. They will kill you, he will kill you, unless you kill them first.

An inevitable bloodshed..

A gasp spills out of your throat, with your line of vision dripping in avalanche of blood. No. It isn't blood. Cold red juice drips down your face, washing over your skin with it's freezing temperature making your neck shiver at the contact.

Yet the words that followed after were even more colder, laced with contempt.

"Look at our pathetic one-sided love baby girl having her meal all alone,"

The delinquents. All of them gathered in front of you. Your eyes widened in radical inches. It's impossible. They would've never known! Unless someone has been sneaking on you, telling on you with everyone else. But as far as you've remembered, you've avoided getting under someone's skin.

Was it the occult club? The science club? Or perhaps the gardening club?

But this is really fucked up. The fact that your reputation is at its lowest right now meant everyone can ridicule you, make fun of you, toss you around like a play toy.

Series of sinister giggles spilled out one after another, an orchestration of parody playing out before you. You shudder in great humiliation yet you remain still—you couldn't afford to make anymore mistakes that could lead to you possibly being expelled. This is no longer the silly game you spent on trying to beat, this is now your real world with you are living as it's player.

"It was her fault, anyways. How could she ever think she could gain Jungwon's affection with the way she looks?"

"Right! She's making herself out here as a fool!"

"Pretty, you should've rehearse your love confession a bit. No wonder, Jungwon doesn't find you at the very least interesting. It's so bland, having no flavor! And again, can't you just be grateful for his friendship?"

"Where's your self-respect?"

The vein on your necks protrudes a visible line, hands tensing as you gripped tightly on the fork. Fire pit surging up inside your lungs as you struggle to breathe, desiring to scream at their face.

Don't lose your shit. They're just but an NPCs. They're not who they are anymore. A trap is all that it is.

You've withstand this so many times before, what differences would it make now? So why, are you so fucking pissed off?

Hands trembling as you continued chewing the bread in your mouth, and taking another mouthful bite, filling your cheeks and chewing each piece excruciatingly.

Swallowing it all down your throat with agony, as you recalled Sonare's words.

➤ .. AH, MY DARLING. I JUST WONDER, THOUGH. ➤ .. HOW LONG CAN YOU KEEP THIS NAIVETY OF YOURS? ➤ .. HOW LONG CAN YOU LAST.. BEFORE YOU ACHE TO SHED, TO THIRST FOR BLOOD?

You ran off.

Not before hearing the multitude of mockeries and degradation behind you.

It happens way in a blink of an eye. You didn't know what to do, what to act, what to say—in fear of a single mistake that would cause a heavy damage on your reputation, a massive drop that would push you a little closer to death.

With wobbling legs, you fell on your knees. Palms planted firmly on the asphalt. What was that.. clawing on your soul? This growing desire to snap their necks, images of decapitated heads and limbs flashing through your head.

What you've experienced was beyond you, as if someone had their hands wrapped around your wrist, hushing into your ear to shut their mouth once and for all. You were almost on the verge of slamming that blade in their heads.

Exhaling and inhaling a huge air, it does nothing but deepens the pain in your chest, you feel like you could explode at any moment from now.

"Hey, everything's okay there?"

A hand stretches suddenly before you catching you by surprise, you look up with fleeting curiosity—the hazy image of a girl.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Your shoulders droop down as your vision clears, with the back of her hand stroking down your temples, dark silk-like hair framing her face which only accentuates her doe eyes—Kim Minji.

"You're sweating," Pure concern etched on her features, Minji turned behind her—talking with someone. "She's so pale.. Guys, I think we have to get her to the infirmary room."

Giving a clearer view, your eyes fell on two boys; appearing as a slick black-haired boy, the tag name on his uniform written Jake Sim.

But a particular someone capture your heavy lids—standing next to him; the bane of your existence. Those eyes you had to make yours—to harbor affections, obsessions, and undying fervor; Yang Jungwon.

But how? In his eyes, you're nothing but a girl who had confessed to him, yet rejected. Why the fuck do you have to relive the same humiliation twice?

"Oh, isn't she?—" Jake halted his steps, seemingly surprised after kneeling to take a better look at you. His head turning behind him, locking eyes with Jungwon, where the boy in return has a disinterested look but cleared his throat, approaching closer.

"We have to hurry, she doesn't look too well." Jungwon says, patting Jake's back. "You go ahead, and carry her."

"Oh," Jake complied, turning his attention back to you with the same concern as Minji's in his eyes—walking to your side as he loops his arm around your back, placing other hand under your leg—lifting you up with ease.

With Jungwon following behind, hands in his pockets. Minji says with concern lace in her voice, stroking your cheek. "Hurry, Jake."

The boy in question huffs, where the heavy weight in your head pushes your lids down, dropping your head on his shoulder. The last thing you see was pitch black darkness on the other side of the tunnel, multiple giant hands stretching out to pull you inside it.

Forcing you out of your will, dragging you across the puddled asphalt. You cried out for help, your pleas echoing relentlessly. On the end of the tunnel, you could see hope illustrated in the brightest color of white.

You dragged yourself, crawling on your knees until you reached the end.

The landscape of white snows greeted your eyes. It was cold, freezing your bare skin and neck. You let your face be washed over by the breeze, closing your eyes to heighten its sensation. You're in this place again. This fucked up place.

Two silhouettes fading in the distance, stepping into a cabin caught your attention. Freezing in hell, you'd think the imagery of that underworld would be like how it was depicted in books and so. However here, you feel wholly empty, gnawing at that organ behind your ribcage.

You let your eyes remain on the cabin, recalling what your mother says, that girls shouldn't confess first yet you rejected the very idea; that regardless of gender, everyone should be able to confess their love. You didn't heed her advices, fulfilling your own set of principles, and thus you are left with more questions than answers if the boy ever love you even.

Mother was right, not everyone would reciprocate that love with sincerity and genuineness but instead manipulate it into their own benefit.

You're left behind, asking why? You felt her palms rubbed the back of your head, whispering another waves of words into your ears.

"You should never perceive yourself as a victim."

Don't complain. Once you lament your entire life only on that question, that's where hell breaks loose. Because a victim will only see themselves as one, and no one else.

A frog that frustrates over who threw the stone, lamenting over the question;

.. Why me?

But in your case, you'd like to turn this sentence into,

.. Why not me?

Why didn't he choose me in the end? Why did he choose other over me? Those questions lingered in your head.

All your life, you controlled yourself to a degree even when someone stomped on you. You bear it all, withstand it.

But it wasn't because you were kind. You don't see yourself as one.

Mother never says that, she never tells you to be evil either. Too much on either side will after all, spell your end. Your co-workers might have perceive you in the role of a victim, expressing their concerns and all that. But you don't see why, you don't see yourself as pathetic like everyone does. Even when they say you're pitiful. You don't.

You do not see yourself as pathetic, you were doing it because you just had to. You'd had to be part of this society, to survive.

Why should you live according to others' point view of life? How you view it is up to you. Mother was always right.

She was always right, that you've wanted to give her a call and cry it all out on her shoulder. But you knew that you won't be able to do so, as you've failed her not once but twice. Yet you can't help but mumble to yourself, crying out a helpless whisper.

"Mom, I'm dying."

Your eyes shot wide open.

Four white walls.

Your pupils darted wildly around you before letting out a dejected sigh after recalling what happened before you passed out. With heavy lids, you looked over to your side where you notice Minji sleeping on the edge of the bed.

You recalled the words of your boss upon seeing her.

Back then, even though, you ache to shove something into that bastard's mouth, and perhaps suffocate him to death, you persisted—digging your nails on the back of your hand, leaving a crescent marks on it that lasted for awhile. Because he was right, you'd be a hassle to look at.

Minji was the complete opposite. A visage that exudes a classic beauty, one that enthralls everyone close to her. You haven't know much about her yet, but you could get why Jungwon likes her back.

You held the need to scoff, it's just like how it was back then.

In this world, we are all, after all—easily replaceable.

Everyone was nowhere but her, however you could see the nurse in the other room adjacent to this one. Yet not a trace of Jake including Jungwon himself are at sight. Almost close, yet he slips away from your fingers once more. Upon realizing the cold damp cloth on your forehead, you're left with the question of why she had to go this far.

It's like a game of fate, though.

You didn't expect it would be this easy to get close to her. Almost tempting that your thoughts are almost morphing into ones you despise. With your eyes catching the sight of the syringe on the table across from you, you're compelled to take it and dig it inside her neck. It brought back a wave of nostalgia, a very grim one into your eyes.

You shook your head, praying for these thoughts to go away.

The girl shifted in his movements, raising her eyelids open which met yours much to your surprise. Noticing you're awake, her eyes lit up—pushing herself upright swiftly but now with concern swimming in her pupils as she asks.

"You're awake! Are you feeling okay now?"

Now that she was closer unlike the first time in the courtyard, her voice feels more clearer, to your surprise—it was kind of deep and husky. Like the ebbs and flows of the waves washing over the shore—it was pleasant to the ears.

Perhaps, a distinctive voice that you would probably remember for some time. Was she a singer in her real life? A small sentiment grow within your heart at the fact that she's very much gone already, and that whatever question you may have about what she's like, or regarding to her real life should be discarded as it won't do you any favor.

Vapid shells that once sang the hymns of the oceans. Now nothing but just a relentless roaring of the abyss. You wondered if they ever call for help when the life vanishes out of their eyes?

Licking your dry lips, you tried to push yourself up. Minji placed her palms on your back, assisting you as you sat up. "Slow down."

"You're?" Throat hoarse, you voiced out that question—feigning ignorance. You don't know what to do yet, but you can't let this chance go to waste.

"Minji," Her lips pursed up in a tender smile, "Kim Minji."

"Thanks, Minji." Placing your hand on hers, "For helping me just now."

"You don't need to, plus I wasn't the only one." Minji gestures her thumb behind her, keeping the sweet smile on her lips. "The other guys helped too, but they left awhile ago since your shirt was quite drenched."

"Oh," It was only now that you've realize your shirt was taken off, leaving you in your singlet where the former can be seen hanging on the clothing rack. "Thanks again, sorry for troubling you so much."

Shaking her head profusely, Minji replies with a small pout. "Don't say that, we are suppose to help each other when we're in need, no?"

'Help each other'. It might've done some wonders to your heart if not for the fact that this is not reality. That sentence doesn't sit too well with you in this very game. It feels off, somehow. Still, you nodded your head showing appreciation for her help.

There's a trace of hesitation swimming in her eyes, "You don't look like you were sweating that much though, did something happen?"

The sequences back in the canteen flashes in your mind, reminding you of how you were so close to death. Looking down at your legs covered by the sheets, you mustered the best small smile you can.

"I suppose I have annoyed someone."

"Did you beat up their ass?" Her question caught you off guard, but even more so with her eyes filled with anticipation as she leans closer to you. You were stammering, unsure of what to say until she notices her close proximity—letting out a nervous chuckle as she apologize meekly. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I'm used to it."

With a trace of what you can recognize as sympathy, swirls in her eyes. She squeezes your hand, lending you warmth.

"You've been sleeping for two hours now."

"I d-did?" Your eyes widened in shock, realizing that you must've skipped the second period which would lower your reputation meter once again. Grimacing as you cupped your forehead, "Please don't tell me you've skipped your class, too?'

"To be honest, yeah.." Minji pursed up a shy smile, "I'm just worried, you really seem like you're not in a good condition.."

You raise a brow at what she could possibly be implying at, until she finished her sentence.

"You kept saying.. that you're definitely dying." She rested her palms on yours, "Its really concerning so I can't help it but stay here with you. Whatever you're thinking about, you're not alone, okay?"

Ah. Was she thinking that you're trying to commit suicide?

In your peripherals, you could see the nurse approaching with a bottle of pills and a glass of water in her hands. "Migraines,"

As she lends you the glass and the pill, it left you downright baffled. Almost scoffing audibly at the very idea of getting fake pills. What this would do to you even?

"Take it easy, by the way. You've got to look after your health, otherwise it would only worsen and you might have to take a leave for a day or two."

No.

There was no way you could skip school—especially more than two days. Especially not after knowing all of the things that could and would happen once you're away. Not wasting any time, you quickly gulped down the pill down your throat—even when you know that it won't help that much—from this pernicious effects of your pending death.

A silhouette catches your peripherals, lips falling apart when he appears again. Yet as your heart involuntarily calls out for him, the name that floats out of his tongue is her name.

"Minji,"

"Wonnie," That nickname catches you by surprise, seeing the obvious effect on Jungwon's visage—dusting his cheeks with pink. "You're back!"

A reaction that sends a pang into your heart. It only amplified by the way his fingers tucked her hairlocks behind her ear—running his fingers down along her hair with such tenderness. The way his eyes are locked into Minji's—listening to her attentively as she talks—like every word that she utters matters more to him more than anything.

Looking away, you reminded yourself that you aren't in love with him. It's this game's mechanics convincing you that you are. So get yourself back in your senses.

"I see," As he lifted his eyes away from Minji to you, "Are you okay now?" His face turns to blank with dull eyes, despite his question carrying a sense of concern, you could sense it—this colossal wall he raises up around you, as if to shield you away from him.

A sheer gap of how he treats you and Minji is evident. Slammed at your face, even. Its only the first day yet somehow it looks like he's too far in deep.

Was Sonare lying to you again?

Whatever it may be. You're screwed. It won't be long till those eyes of his morph into sinister ones, into a fatal poison that would cost your life.

Forcing the best genuine smile you could muster, casting it on Minji.

"Thanks to Minji, yes."

"Good to hear."

He replies nonchalantly before turning his attention back to his girlfriend, his sugary demeanor surfacing back up. "You haven't eaten yet, so I've grabbed you something to eat from the cafeteria."

"You got me my favorite!" Minji beams up, jaw dropping slightly at the plastic wrapped sandwich and an orange juice box. "Thank you Wonnie."

She grabbed his hand, expressing appreciation to him with her eyes but then confusion surfaces from her visage. With her brows knitted together, she tilted her head a bit further to look behind Jungwon. "Is that all?"

"Yeah?"

"But," She turns to look at you, and then at Jungwon. "You didn't got her one?"

"Oh, sorry. I forgot." Jungwon rub his nap, as he says nonchalantly. "To be fair, that was the last one."

Lie. That's a lie.

You knew that wasn't the truth.

Despite knowing from his profile that Jungwon isn't a liar, nor does he utter white lies for the sake of others. You've remembered another thing once you scrolled down to the section of how he's like once he turns into a yandere; that once he starts falling for the player, he will begin to lie even if its the thing he had swore to never do in the first place.

You could see it. He just doesn't see the reason why he should get another one because you are not that even important to him, so why should he care about your wellbeing? As difficult as it was to swallow it down your throat, this is only the beginning. He'd treat you far more worse with each of his heart slowly dedicating itself to this girl in front of you.

"We'll share then," Minji says, as she breaks the sandwich in half—surprising you and Jungwon. "Here!"

Shaking your head, "H-hey, you don't have to, I'm not that hungry."

"You got to eat," She insisted, pushing the half of the bun on your hand. "You've skipped over lunch too, right?"

"No, I did! I've eaten."

That came out louder than you expected it to as the girl jolted in response but emitted a slight laughter shortly after. She looks back and forth at the foods on her hands, before lifting the other hand with the orange juice box on it.

"Then.. Maybe a drink would do?" Minji asks you with a convincing smile before tilting her head up to Jungwon, seemingly asking for permission. "I'm not that thirsty, anyways."

Jungwon just patted her hair, nodding in silence.

Acknowledging that she probably won't give up, you accepted it—punching the straw in the box, taking a sip from it as you observed the two getting in lost in their own world once more, like how Minji shyly commented how the sandwich tastes a lot more better when Jungwon bought it—the need to grimace amplifies, as your head are shrouded with numerous how's.

Of how to rip them apart from each other.

The match-making method would no longer work in this situation. There was no way you will be able to rip them both off each other without resorting to the very method you've been trying to avoid.

She may no longer have her consciousness intact anymore, but even the image of yourself stabbing her to death repulsed you.

➤ .. TO WIN OVER HIS HEART, TO MAKE HIM YOURS—YOU MUST LOSE YOURSELF, FIGURATIVELY OF COURSE! ➤ .. UNLESS IF YOU FAIL IN DOING SO, YOU'LL PERISH IN WAYS YOU'D NEVER IMAGINE.

You pushed away Sonare's words out of your head with a grimace.

You didn't want to keep imagining it you really don't. However, just how long are you going to keep this up? The fact that you've still yet to decide of what is the best way to get rid of her?

You still have a chance, as Jungwon hasn't turn into a yandere yet.. But it won't be long till he falls deeper for his now-girlfriend, Minji.

"Hold on, Heeseung's calling." Jungwon showed the flip phone's screen to Minji before going outside, which she nodded in return.

You didn't miss how he stroke his fingers on Minji's hair before leaving, a gesture that propels a shy smile in the girl's lips.

It hasn't been a day of them being lovers yet, but why the fuck is he so lovestruck? It only does nothing but distress you further. Plus, its weird.. of how Minji seems to have her guard down before you as if she doesn't know anything about it.

Her amiable acts towards you led you to believe that she was unaware of the events between you and Jungwon. He might've kept it from her, or just didn't see it important enough to tell her. All the way more convincing you that you are nothing to him.

You had to make something, do something in some way.

"Which club are you from, by the way?" You asked, partly of genuine curiosity, and partly because you have to dig in more details of her.

"Oh, I'm haven't join one yet.. But I got my eye on one or two clubs."

"What are they, then?"

"Drama, or the light music club." She replied, her fingers fiddling the hem of her sleeves. "But I'm leaning towards the latter.. because singing has always been my favorite thing to do."

This won't be easy, you thought to yourself.

"That's cool!" Feigning support, "You really do look like one, you know, like a singer."

You captured how her eyes lit up with stars. "You really think so?"

Nodding with no trace of hesitation, she lets out a small chuckle, as if she was suspense with disbelief.

"That's- I just didn't think that anyone would notice," Minji says with her eyes gazing out the window, but as you trace at where she was looking at, her eyes seems to look further than you can reach. "I mean, no has ever said that in this place."

"No one has ever said so?"

"Yeah, you're the first one." She says with a smile you somehow feel genuine, "You got a really good eye, I have to say."

Minji asks back with her attention undivided, leaning forward—seemingly curious as well. "What about you? Are you planning to join one of the clubs here as well?"

To be fair, you haven't join any clubs in this particular server you were playing in. You had some plans to get in the art club or martial club sometime ago, but had long forgotten about it. But now, it seems like the art club is your best bet, for now, that is.

"I was thinking, Ar—" Your words were punctuated by the distant chatters outside this room. Jungwon's voice blending with another, which you can't seem to decipher. But it grew clearer as they approached closer.

Jungwon appeared, with a particular someone following behind him.

"Jesus, I thought someone got hurt when you said you were by the infirmary room." The boy rolled his eyes as he shuts his flip phone. "Hey Minji, and.."

His eyes fell on you.

"Who's this?"

Purple hair framing his face, bouncing on his eyelashes—almost obscuring his doe eyes. The eldest among the yanderes, and the leader of the gaming club—Lee Heeseung. If there was one thing most memorable about him in his profile, is that he has a big obsession with collecting keyboards. Not often spotted around his members as he spent afterhours in the gaming club, playing games all day.

You're surprised that he doesn't look at all malnourished, or close to the stereotypical image of a gamer; disheveled hair, dark eyebags, and a gloomy atmosphere but rather a neat, and well-combed hair, paired with a healthy skin tone. Not what you would expect from someone who is cramped all day in a dimly-lit room.

You'd often wonder how the heck the players who chose him would be able to get him out of his inner world of games and keyboards.

Before Minji could answer, Jungwon did.

"Minji was the one who found her almost passed out behind the academy, so we brought her here."

With a complete air of nonchalance, that is. Since awhile ago, you notice how Jungwon has never laid his eyes on you for more than three seconds, his eyes was everywhere but you.

"So?"

"So what?" Heeseung asked with evident confusion.

"I thought you wanted to say something on the way here?"

"Why am I here again? Ah yes, the club." Heeseung mumbling to himself, before letting out a rather loud 'tsk'.

"What's up with the club?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Heeseung ruffled his hair, pushing his tongue in his cheek. "No, seriously, not one but two of the club members quitted. Like why the fuck didn't they inform me way back then? Such a bummer."

"What are you suppose to do even there?" Minji suddenly asks.

Heeseung turns to look at her, "Gaming?"

"Just gaming?"

"Yeah, what else are you suppose to do then?"

"I seriously don't get why the Gaming Club was approved in the first place." Minji shrugs, in which you shared the same thought as well. She has a point, though.

Back in the real world, you never found the gaming club useful at all. Its benefits where you could do missions through playing games to raise your stats kind of wasted your time.

"Well, you'd probably don't get it." Heeseung rolled his eyes, seemingly finding it useless to banter with her before turning to the boy in front of him. "Anyways, Jake has been considering to quit the drama club. What say you, Jungwon?"

"Me?" Jungwon points at himself, in which the former nodded in response. "Who says I'm leaving my club?"

"Dude, just quit the martial arts club." Heeseung says, with an amused expression trying to stifle a chuckle. "It's not like we have any serial killers around here with their ass for you to kick?"

Somehow, you found yourself stiffening at Heeseung's words.

"I'm in dire need for club members now, Yang."

"Ask others, then?" Jungwon said, "You know how many students wants to join your club, especially the girls."

"No, not the girls, please." Grimacing, Heeseung shook his head. "I don't have anything against girls but the thing is they don't have the same level of passion for gaming," Pointing his index finger on the ground as he continues speaking, "Not in this academy, okay?"

"The boys?"

"Sunghoon and Jay isn't budging the fuck from their recipes, while Sunoo had just joined the occult club a month ago, and Ni-ki?" Heeseung shook his head, facepalming himself. "That kid has no sense of either punctuality or responsibility."

He pauses his words in-between, though—as if a light bulb lighted up in his head.

"Wait, if I could get Jake. Perhaps, Ni-ki would follow along."

"Go for it, then."

A sigh spills out of Heeseung's lips. "The calculation I made for this is undoubtedly fairly low, unfortunately. So please,"

Jungwon only shrugs in return, seemingly putting a thought about it.

"You're my only hope now aside from Jake, or else the faculty room's gonna shut my club down, dude." Desperation evident in Heeseung's voice as he kneels down much to you all's surprise. With Jungwon having to force him to stand up but the latter only pressed on, insisting with no hint of giving up at all.

"Oh god, Heeseung." Minji cups her forehead at the sight playing out in front of her before asking you with her lips pursed up in a smile "Which club was it again, the one you wanted to join?"

"Art club."

Hearing your answer, Minji turns to look at the boy kneeling on the floor. "Guess there's no hope for you then."

Heeseung groaned, mumbling to himself how he wasted his energy going all the way down here.

"By the way, Minji. Aren't you suppose to look for the light club's members now?" Jungwon asks, a question directed to Minji.

"Oh my god!" The girl in question abruptly stands, the chair creaking at the same time. "You're right! I totally forgot about it!"

"I'll accompany you there," Jungwon suggested, stretching his hands out to her. You avoid the image of their hands intertwining, looking the other way.

"(Name), you'll be fine here, right?" Minji asks with enthusiasm, in which you nodded in return, assuring her that its okay. "I'll be back later!"

And so you observed as the two left, with Heeseung following behind them but with a pair of eyes you could see fleeting in the distance.

Footsteps and chatters fading in the distance. You watched the faint marmalade sky, taking a deep sigh as you closed your eyes, rummaging your head of what to do.

You opened your eyes to see that he hasn't left yet.

"Why are you still—"

"Ah, so you're (Name)?" Heeseung pulls away after he read your tag name, standing still all while humming a certain tune, quite familiar to your ears but you can't pinpoint where you did it hear from. "You play games?"

"No." You replied swiftly.

Judging by his first question, it was better if you shut it down fast as you don't have any intention in joining the gaming club, since it doesn't have any advantages or benefits like other clubs does. To summarize it, its a completely useless club.

Tilting his head, you feel the curiosity enveloped in his eyes. "What do you mean by 'no'?"

You raise one brow, confused as to what he was implying at.

"Your eyes," Chuckling, he gestures his fingers over his eyes, "They look like they hurt a lot, that means you must have been playing a whole lot of games."

"If you're planning to ask me to join your club, then sorry, I lose all the time."

"Pity, why don't you join my club then?" He chimes in, insisting with chins buried on his palms. "Perhaps under my tutelage, you'll get really, really good at gaming."

"I don't really care in improving my gaming." You rebutted almost nonchalantly, leaning your head on the pillow as you shut your eyes tight.

"Ugh, so close." Heeseung whines, however seemingly insistent at the topic. "Then why do you play games in the first place?"

"What else do you think?" You looked into his eyes, trying to show him that you're bored.

A few beats of silence.

"I don't think so," Heeseung says, "You don't like someone who would play for pastime."

"What makes you think so?"

"Like I said, your eyes." Heeseung says, "It hurts right?"

You played games for what really?

A game where you can freely act on your desires without inflicting real pain on real people, a fantasy world where you shouldn't cross the line.

A line you wanted someone else to cross for you instead.

You wanted someone to be selfish for you for once. Someone who won't have their love wavers with one look on others. Someone who wouldn't say.. that it wasn't true love.

It just so happens that you found this game. You ended up finding solace in these so-called yanderes where they will only have their eyes on you, where their top priority is the best interest of your heart, an affection that exceeds all boundaries and limits, vowing loyalty that never fleets till the end of their life.

It's hilarious how this beings are the twisted form of that sentence your mother utters; instead of manipulating you and using you like a play toy, it was instead used in a way to make you theirs. You ache for that kind of love. It may be all toxic, yet your body aches to be embraced. You had no hope for these obsession to exist in the real world.

Hence why you could only let out your frustrations and lamentation in this game. It's all about you, only you. That's what you love about it. A virtual world where you can unleash your pain, act on your wildest desires, and appease your hurting soul.

Thoughts come and go. But some just persists, latching in the depths of your soul like a pest, therefore your brain does what its best at—to protect you; keep it, hide it like your dirty laundry, and kicking it off in the deepest and darkest corner.

There was no need to hurt someone else just because you had been hurt yourself. You vowed that to yourself.

However you can't deny that this mind of yours, this soul of yours will never be the same. It's tainted. Smudged. Scarred. You're beyond saving, no matter how you try. You can hide it all you want, yet its there, creeping back up when you're presented with that same image of a dirty laundry.

The very same dirty laundry this game is preying on, urging you to nurture it, to let go of your self. To let yourself snap. To make you go back on your own words. A freak show in its eyes.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

"Not all people play games to get better or become pro at it like you do."

Heeseung hums in response, leaning against the edge of the window. "What type of games do you like?"

"Why do you care?"

"Hey," He scoffed, "So is it classified as weird to ask harmless questions now?"

You rolled your eyes, "It's a game where you have to survive."

"Bingo, I'm a pro at surviving, you see." Heeseung throws you a wink, "I can give you tips on how to win if you let me."

"Unfortunately for you," You covered your eyes with your forearm, giving a signal that he should just leave already. "It's a fucked up game, and I don't like playing games anymore anyways."

"I know that words," The boy snickers, approaching you with growing interest laced in his voice. "Tell me, what is this game that's making you act up like this?"

"It's none of your business."

"It is, gaming is my forte."

"Your forte in gaming won't save you from this one."

"What makes you think I can't?" You could feel his silhouette near the edge of the bed, casting a shadow on you. "All the games I've played, I've won."

No, you've lose. Despite being unsure of whether the yanderes themselves are once real people. You couldn't help but be affected by his words. Scoffing at the irony at the words leaving his mouth, you pulled your forearm from your eyes—pushing yourself to sit upright.

Meeting his eyes, you said. "Haven't you wonder that it must be that you've never found a game that will make you lose, yet?"

"That's why I have to play it, we'll know if we never try." He pressed on, keeping the smirk on his lips.

His confidence and all this words is pushing you towards the brink. Groaning, you let yourself fall back on the pillow. Shifting your body where you back faces him. "You'll definitely lose, I'm telling you."

"What? Does it take two players to win?" Tilting his head in amusement, chuckling. "If you're afraid in hindering me, then I don't suck that bad to the point to be held back by an amateur, you know."

"Not even close." Your frown deepens. "You'll only die."

"It doesn't hurt to try."

"It will hurt."

"C'mon, now."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself."

"What's a game for if not to take risks?" Heeseung smirks, "Its not too different from life, you see. There's a reason why they say life is a game." He leans closer, "We only got one chance in life."

You scoffed with your eyes closed, "I didn't know the gaming club's leader can be this persistent outside his computers, but I guess you are staying true to your role as a gamer."

"Well, you won't excel in life if you don't play your role well."

Finally losing your patience, with your eyes now shot wide open—you pushed yourself upright once more, glaring at him with spite. "Seriously? I thought you said to your friend just now that you don't want any girls to join your club because they don't have that, what was it again?"

Heeseung tilted his head sideways, waiting for you to finish your words.

"Ah, yes, passion." With a clenched jaw, and annoyance plastered on your face—you raise your index finger at him, "So why the fuck are you forcing me to join your club?"

"What? Are you offended about what I said?"

"The thing is, I don't care."

"What I said was true, though." Heeseung bends down to your eye level, "No one here has a passion for gaming like I do."

"So why—"

"But I see in it you." With your eyes locked together with his, you could the deep curiosity swirling within. A hollow well yet so strange it sucks your breath away, like a pair of hands wrapped on the back of your head. "Like I said, your eyes."

You released a shaky breath when he finally pulls away, breaking the intense prolonged eye contact.

"What say you, pretty?" His voice pulls you out, "Maybe I can help you win."

With trembling hands, you spat out. "Leave."

"Alright, alright, I'll be leaving now." Heeseung's voice fades as he heads off to the exit, but your ears caught on his halted steps. "But my offer still stands. In case you change your mind, you know where to find me."

With silence finally enveloping the room, you're left wondering what had just happened. What was that, even?

The leader of the yanderes offering you to join his club, which doesn't serve you any benefits. But as you've given it more thought, perhaps this is the golden chance to get closer to Jungwon, which is through his friends. What better way is it if not through the leader himself?

But if everything went exactly the way you want it to be, what would you do with Minji? After that seemingly genuine conversation with her, it pains your heart to even imagine anything sort that way.

It leaves you more conflicted as time passes, though, as you can't still seem to decide whether joining the gaming club is better than the art club. As tempted as you are, you cannot join the martial arts club. You are certain that it will only push Jungwon away from you.

Instead, the drama club would give you way more benefits with its costume and masks, and Jake was there too but Heeseung had mentioned that he's considering of leaving so there's that. While the cooking club has both Sunghoon and Jay—the unfortunate encounter you had with the former earlier had left you somewhat intimidated by him, and remembering Jay's profile doesn't make you feel any better as he had a shady history.

Perhaps the occult club would be a better option, and Sunoo has been an active member for two months. Despite being one of the yanderes, he's a sweet boy with a cheerful demeanor—and that makes it easier to get close to him. But the overall atmosphere of the other occult members makes you grimace, they don't seem very welcoming in your opinion.

Ruffling your hair in a mess, you clenched your jaw as you couldn't find yourself making the right decision.

What's even the right decision? You are scared. You truly are scared. It has been awhile since you've felt this much dread and fear. You've gotten really good at holding yourself back all this time, doing so well not letting your personal emotions getting the best of you.

But now you aren't so sure anymore.

You weren't sure of which are you scared of more too; was it the fact that your entire existence will be wiped out if you fail, or was it because you'll rot, or was it because everything you've tried so hard to forget will flood back once more?

Or maybe it was everything altogether.

Truth to be told, you're afraid of the you that will slowly return. That part of you that sees herself as a victim and no one else. You didn't want to go back to her anymore.

It was so far back, hazy swirls shrouding your head. You suppressed it in a way. You can no longer remember the details. Yet it was there inside your heart. That reeking dirty laundry swirling your heart, recycling it like a washing machine.

A side of you that deeply perturbs your soul.

Deep down, it also terrifies you that this game will come to understand you soon, more than you do.

A frog that frustrates over who threw the stone, lamenting over the question; "Why me?"

You do not wish to go back to the you from back then. Not anymore.

Your lips fell apart when the atmosphere against your bare skin changes, growing thick and tense as if someone had pressed the pause button. The swaying lush trees beyond the window halted, and the nurse on the other side of the room stood still. The chatters outside are replaced with a deafening silence.

A gasp spills out of your throat when the same pink display screen like Sonare appeared, however instead of texts—list of choices are presented before your eyes.

Whatever you choose to term it with, these set of choices are now the bane of your life. A heavy weight pushing you down as you read each choice, leaving you more distress than ever.

You've got to instill it in your mind that being Jungwon's girlfriend isn't enough, you have to make him die for you—where everything he sees, hear, smell, and taste is you.

If you want to live, you had to.

Make him yours, make him say yes to your love confession.

➤ .. CAN YOU CLIMB UP THE RANKS AND TAKE THE SPOT AS THE ONE AND ONLY BELOVED DARLING OF YOUR YANDERE?

© 2022-2024, pieroulette on [tumblr]. all rights reserved.

📫 qna can be delivered to my sideblog: @yuanvei !

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

It's home cinema manufacturing time! 🏴‍☠️ Gonna put my pirate show on my shelf! (I'm doing an Arts and Crafts Project and I'm making it everyone's problem.)

After seeing how much they cost, I abandoned the idea of getting a Blu-ray writer for now. For the time being, good old DVDs is what it's going to be! My TV is old and not very big, so DVD resolution is gonna be fine.

It's been ages since I last burned a DVD. For the full experience, I'm gonna create nice menus and pretty sleeves for the boxes. Graphic design is my passion! Um.

Well. First needed to find a program to do stuff with. I'm a Linux guy, so I'm using Devede. (Which is free, btw. In case someone else wants to do a low cost spot of putting pirate show on the shelf.)

DVDs fit a maximum of 120 minutes of video. So, four episodes, I thought. But after a quick attempt, the program refused to do more than three (maybe because of the menu also taking up space, and four episodes cutting pretty close to the 120 min mark?). Anyway, three episodes per disc it is. It's a pretty nice runtime for watching the entire disc, IMO. An hour and a half, and then you can return to reality to realise you should probably eat something, or go to bed because it's midnight.

OFMD with its current two seasons has a total of eighteen episodes, which is divisible by three. You get the following setup:

Disc 1: Pilot, A Damned Man, The Gentleman Pirate - That's pretty good, Stede's introduction to piracy all on one disc!

Disc 2: Discomfort in a Married State, The Best Revenge is Dressing Well, The Art of Fuckery - All bangers. Great to watch together, our boys meet and shenanigans happen!

Disc 3: This is Happening, We Gull Way Back, Act of Grace - Many romantic moments, lots of great scenes, shit hits the fan at the end there. Alright!

Disc 4: Wherever you go, there you are, Impossible Birds, Red Flags - ... Pain and angst! What have I done!?! The disc of horrors. Gotta make sure to have tissues at hand when I watch this. But hey, it also has messy bun Ed! Small mercies.

Disc 5: The Innkeeper, Fun and Games, The Curse of the Seafaring Life. - Another disc with all winners. I love all these episodes so much! (You can watch this disc to recover from the trauma of the previous one!) But seriously, this one slaps.

Disc 6: Calypso's Birthday, Man on Fire, Mermen - Great combination again. Season finale! Love and excitement!

... Honestly, except for the psychological damage of putting all the most painful episodes together, this is coming out pretty cool. Says a lot about how good the show is. I actually really love all the episodes (yes even the painful angsty episodes of massive depression). Thinking about this little project really reminded me how much I love this entire show.

So, we got a tracklist, now menus, then we can burn this stuff!

I did the menu backgrounds in GIMP. Realised I have a big folder full of screenshots I took myself, screenshots someone else took and posted on Tumblr, official promo pics for the show, and I have no idea anymore where most of them are from, because I named the files according to what's on them. Which is useful for when you want to find pics (Need a picture of cursed suit Stede? I have files named that, easy peasy!), but not so great if you wanted to give credit to whoever took a given pic you used. (It's probably @sherlockig or @ofmd-ann or @blakbonnet. Please feel credited, your beautiful screens and gifs brighten my day, and some of them are now probably part of my DVD menus. Shrunk down and cropped, but, yeah.)

I originally wanted to structure my menus as having the title of an episode, then some pics from it, then the next episode, then pics from that, and so forth, but I couldn't convince the program to give me the necessary padding between the menu items, so I ended up just putting the episode images below the menu. Still like it.

Anyway, DVD menus can also play sound! Behold a crappy video of my beautiful creation (provided entirely for sound):

It plays Gnossienne N°5!

More crappy pics of my other disc menus:

Gonna make them some nice sleeves next. Some day. Gotta make sure they all work properly first. So. I'll be on my sofa, watching my DVDs. With menus! (Edit: here are!)

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 4

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three.

Four. 四

While Donaka Mark touched himself, you sat up in your bed and scribbled furiously in your journal, trying to exorcize him from your mind, trying to alleviate this weight from your skin. You write about what happened in the garden–and then you write about what might have happened, if you actually had a spine, and no sense of self preservation, and didn't prefer your risks to solely play out on a page. 

For lack of a better word, what you put down in your journal is pure filth, and you know when the first rays of morning shine through your window you should tear out those pages, destroy them, ensure no one else ever puts eyes on the raunchy ruminations of your feral pen. 

But…you don’t.

You keep them, hiding your little notebook in your underwear drawer. Who would ever find them there? Who would even be interested? 

Donaka should be focusing his energies on cultivating his next new champion, but instead, he cannot stop thinking about you. 

Your innocent defiance, your bravery in the face of such a terrible monster. He has no delusions about what he is. He can’t tell if you do. All your talk of misunderstood creatures–he thinks that maybe you’re not as innocent as you seem. That maybe, you have a dark and fearless side just waiting to be brought out, something deep inside you–something only he could mine from you. He will have it. He will work you over your fear of him, until you gladly surrender. He will not rest until you are his, body and soul. Maybe he employs you, but he wants to own you.

And Donaka Mark always gets what he wants.

***

A week later, you are cleaning the hallway when you spy Donaka training with another martial artist in the gym. He is mesmerizing, deadly and powerful. The fight that ensues–and the temple-like setting of his training area–are both like something out of a level of Mortal Kombat. When he takes his opponent down with a loud kiai–you can't help but half jump out of your skin, gripping your broom. When he lifts his gaze to find you there gawking at him, you know you are caught out.

He feels a flash of pleasure at the way you gasp and jump at the sound–he feels it more than hears it. He is attuned to you, he knows where you are at all times. Not just because he is constantly watching you on his cameras–he feels you, when he concentrates and closes his eyes. 

You are his.  He doesn’t really take his gaze off you as he stands up and briefly bows to his training partner. He can see how you are clearly preparing to run, and he doesn’t want you to get away just yet. He crooks his finger at you as his partner packs up his things to go, and you really have no choice but to go to him on the mat. His eyes rake over you as you join him. Maybe you’re looking at him the same way, as he dries the sweat from his glistening skin with a towel, his muscles flexing. 

Would it kill him to train with a shirt on?

You feel like this is a trap he constructed–you’re not wrong. 

“Almost done,” he says, letting you know you can clean up the mats soon.

"Yes, Sir." Finally you have the grace to avert your eyes, and not ogle this beautiful man. You notice he has a long, thick scar right down the center of his abdomen, and you wonder what happened to him. You tear your eyes away, before you can follow that line down further, the dark tuft of hair peeking out of his pants that practically invites you to indulge in yet more dirty thoughts about this man.

He smirks down at you, savoring your obeisance. 

“Ever tried martial arts?”

You are so not telling him about your childhood dabbles, after watching his brutal and precise practice. Instead you lean on your broom, relaxing slightly. “I clearly have a black belt in Tae Sweep Kun Do.” 

He snorts in answer. “Very funny. But martial arts are not a joke. The way of the warrior is a serious pursuit.” 

“I mean…” You cannot help your insouciant smile now. “Jackie Chan movies are pretty funny. Rush Hour? Timeless classic.”

Maybe if you annoy this man enough, he will give up on torturing you with the sight of his utterly biteable pecs. Almost as though he senses what you’re doing, his focus just intensifies on you, that knowing smirk in place. 

He takes another step closer to you, standing so that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to.

“I could teach you,” he offers, “If you ever decide to take it seriously.”

The thought of him manhandling you under the pretense of teaching you floods your body with an annoying wave of desire, your grip tightening on your broom. You avert your eyes, certain he sees it all. 

“Thanks, but…when would I ever need to hit someone? All I'd have to do is tell them I work for Donaka Mark...they'd probably shit themselves and run away." 

Donaka lets out a short bark of laughter at this unexpected answer, amused by your response. 

He takes a step closer to you, commanding your gaze with a single finger under your chin, craning your neck to an almost uncomfortable angle. That single, possessive touch lights you on fire. “Such a filthy mouth on such a pretty girl,” he teases darkly.

"Sorry, Sir," you apologize quietly, your throat full of sand. You feel him tense to move, maybe to near closer, or touch you more, and you panic. “I’ll be back soon to clean up in here," you say, backing away and fleeing to your next task. 

Which includes hiding in the servants quarters for a little bit to catch your breath, your body crawling with need from that one. Little. Touch. You know you’ll be writing a lot in your junk journal that night to get it out of your system. Desire will eat at you all day, you’re certain, like some kind of parasite robbing you of your sanity. It isn’t pleasant, this thing you feel for Donaka Mark. It’s uncomfortable, and dangerous, and you wish you knew how to cut it out of you.

He’d watched you go with equal parts satisfaction and frustration for flustering you–usually he revels in a long game of corruption, but more and more lately he just wants you in his hands, and you keep running away from him. You are trying his patience, with your bad jokes and your big eyes looking at him. 

Soon, he is going to shut you up with his cock stuffed inside you, and his mouth on yours. You don’t know it yet, but you’re even going to beg for it. He always gets his way.

Later, he will watch you scribbling in your journal, curled up in your skimpy pajamas on your tiny bed, from a hidden camera placed in your room. You’ve become his favorite late night show. He wonders what makes your hand move so furiously across the page, and sometimes between your legs. Is it him? He hates it that you have a secret he’s not privy to–yet. He gives zero thought to this violation of your privacy. You live in his house. 

You belong to him.

chapter map

[outro-jo]

skz and their black cat partner

pairing: skz members x (gn) reader

type: headcanon?

warnings: none really

request: yes?

notes: i got an interesting request and i wasn’t sure how to go about it until i saw this svt reaction and so i went more this route

how i personally define a black cat personality: dark energy/vibe usually accompanied by a dark aesthetic but doesn’t always have to. not super fond of affection or prefers affection on their own terms. sassy with good quips and comebacks. has an interest in “darker” topics such as horror, the occult, “dark” psychology, etc. chronically unbothered. FIERCELY protective once you gain their love/loyalty. occasionally unhinged and feral (gets the zoomies whether physical or mental/verbal). big scorpio energy tbh

not taking requests at this time/clearing out inbox

masterlist | info

————————————

chan- think of how he is with lee know and seungmin sometimes. yeah. like when you’re sitting there like 😐😒, he’s squishing you and sticking his face in yours affectionately. you’re his baby. there are times when he respects your space but for the most part he’s all over you. most of the time he’s the protector but there have been a few times he’s seen your protective side and the pride he feels???? omg

lee know- omg he loves it sm. he already has the sunshine to his grumpy with some of the other boys. so you’re just like him. his fav thing though is when you get a burst of energy (zoomies) usually at the end of the day and you’re just goofing off with him. he LOVES to tease you. not rly the way chan does where it’s all cutesy but he just kinda pokes at you… physically and metaphorically. he just loves having someone he can chill with and really be himself.

changbin- so he likes to play that he’s this dark boy but he’s really a softie. he gets kinda nervous sometimes when you’re too quiet that he’s done something wrong but you do this thing where when you’re sitting together you take his hand and put it where you want affection at that moment. like you’ll just hold his hand or put his hand on your head and he just :> “oh so you do like me???”

hyunjin- he’s finally found someone as sassy as him. the funniest thing (for others really) is when something happens and you both kinda share the same look of confusion and disgust (judgement). everything is just really calm and lowkey with you, which he loves but then when you’re both alone you kinda bounce off the walls together.

han- beast boy x raven (gn) vibes. like he is an absolute SIMP for you. he thrives with a darker, kinda emo or goth partner. even if that’s not rly your aesthetic, he just likes having a partner that’s more lowkey to balance him out but whenever you do get your bursts of energy he always matches it and it’s kinda magical. you’re the one usually teasing him and it’s funny bc it’ll either fluster the hell out of him or like he didn’t even catch it. you 1000% become like a security blanket in human form for him.

felix- grumpy x sunshine. now, he’s not the type to poke fun at you or anything or tease you when you’re in your more quiet, grumpy moments. he just kinda sits there like the sunshine he is and loves you through it. damn, is he cute. he has you melting instantly but you obviously can’t show that. he loves to cuddle you even when you’re stiff as a board, unsure what to do with affection. felix also does this super 🫠🫠🫠 thing where he randomly tells you you’re pretty (✨gn✨) AND ITS ALWAYS WITH THE CUTEST FACE SCRUNCH and then gives you a little peck leaving you like 🧍🏻😳

seungmin- you two actually have similar energy but he’s like the dog version? i wouldn’t necessarily call him a black lab or anything, he’s just kinda the puppy version of you. (idk how to make it make sense. iykyk) you two just kinda vibe together and enjoy each other’s company without having to say a lot which is super nice. you just have this like rhythm and comfortability with each other that is just so ✨✨✨. there’s also this insane sixth sense with each other where you both feel out what’s going on in the room and know what to do without saying a word to each other. the amount of times where y’all have been hanging out with friends only to get up and leave without any notice to anyone else to be like, “yeah, we’re gonna go” bc both of your social batteries have drained and you two just need to go watch some tv. you’re both also incredibly protective of each other when necessary.

i.n- he just finds everything you do so adorable and endearing. think wednesday and enid but he doesn’t rly have the enid aesthetic, just vibes. you have more of a dark side which he admittedly kinda loves. you could be sitting there sharpening knives and he’s like, “aren’t they the cutest!” (exaggeration but you get the idea) you just exist and he’s your biggest fan though. omg you smiled at him once (kinda sarcastically) and it made his whole year.

[bunnakit]

my stand in ep 4 thoughts, feelings, etc

WOW WA WE WAA THAT SURE WAS AN EPISODE HUH - happy to report i went back through the episode slowly this week and took notes and really tried to gather everything i wanted to say (but i will inevitably forget something)

🌸 ok disclaimers because i have a lot of them for this particular episode 🌸

i'm just a silly guy on the internet, i'm not an expert in mental health, psychology, body language, whatever. most days i can't even take care of myself. i'm just saying things recreationally.

PLEASE do not put novel spoilers in my replies, reblogs, or tags without a warning notice. i've got an itchy blocking finger for it these days.

i am treating ming and joe and everyone involved in this show as if they were real life human beings. ming was not born some mustache twirling villain sent from hell to make joe miserable. joe is not some pure angel descended from the clouds to do no wrong. everyone in this show exhibits very human behavior and that can be distressing under certain circumstances. i'm just going to comment on them as humans. i'm not interested in a round table discussion on why a character is irredeemable, the scum of the earth, etc. i'm just putting my thoughts out there and you can take them or leave them.

🌸 alright yucky disclaimer time over 🌸

the episode really just picks us back up where everything left off - and yet joe still made ming breakfast, and ming isn't stupid (well right now at least,) he knows something is off.

i am confused why tong needs to get married on this specific day. and like bro how fast are you getting married? relax. the whole thing is just unstoppable force (trajectory of this producers career) meets immovable object (tong's fuckass stubbornness) and the collateral damage is massive.

and then there's the question of did joe ever want to play a lead? or did he let his impulsiveness and hurt put a target on his back? (only emphasized by the fact that everyone assumed joe would turn down the role)

i DO apologize for all my doubt surrounding wut. he, ja, and may are the only people in this show with any god damn sense. maybe jojo and yim. we'll see.

getting into the confrontation at joe's work, i really don't think it's that surprising when we keep in mind ming genuinely has no fucking clue what is going on. all he knows is joe woke up, was acting weird, didn't come home, and then told him to pack up his shit and leave with ZERO explanation. like, joe's completely in the right, but i'd also be confused as fuck. (i wouldn't go to someone's work about it but, y'know, we know ming acts in extremes.)

and to me this is where it really became obvious that joe has always been able to overpower ming, to get away from him, as we have seen joe's physical prowess, we've seen what he's capable of, but he never uses his body to move ming away from him - that's not who joe is, he's not someone that would put his hands on another person like that. it's just another way ming and joe are the direct antithesis of each other.

it's my thought that the argument escalates because ming is used to getting everything he wants - except for tong, and now joe. when joe begins to push him away and deny him his substitution for tong i think ming lashes out in his hurt with a thought of "it's happening again, why doesn't anyone want me?"

i will say while i do believe sol has good intentions for the most part his white knighting is getting a little irksome. while convenient, it just shows how much he's still hovering and laying in wait for a chance with joe - he, too, is not respecting joe's wishes. no is a complete sentence, sol.

and then things continue back at home and joe finally, finally throws ming's words back at him: if i'm so terrible to be with, if you're so great, why are you wasting your time with me?

and ming doesn't have an answer. what ming DOES have is another back embrace, arms wrapped around joe as he asks "don't you love me anymore?" but is he asking joe or tong?

"although i'm not as good as tong" even now joe's rampant self worth issues are still at play but at least he finally knows he's worth more than whatever this is.

then the phone rings and to me, ming looks skittish. he looks shaken. he's never seen joe so angry and he's scared and as the call progresses that fear morphs into rage when sol calls joe. and the thing is, regardless of who played the main role, ming was never going to be happy. it was either going to be joe or tong playing opposite sol and neither of those things would have been acceptable.

and then i said, out loud, in my quiet office: OH! and promptly lost my shit in the group chat.

ming doesn't look wholly present after his act of violence. his face is vacant, like he isn't completely seeing or grasping what he's just done. i get the impression that ming isn't mentally well; stress and fear and anger have a way of making people do really fucking stupid things and as these things happen you risk falling into the sunk cost fallacy - you've already gone this far, you can't stop now - which all aligns with the obsessive behavior we've seen from ming in the past.

as joe wakes up and they talk once again joe doesn't blame ming, he blames himself for not seeing the writing on the walls even though it was written in invisible ink.

"all these times we were together did you ever love me?"

"you can't tell?"

again, so much of the blame and emotional responsibility of their situationship is put on joe and ming refuses to communicate any of his feelings, perhaps because he doesn't know how to after repressing everything for so long.

WE DIDN'T GET HOT KINKY CHAINED UP SEX THOUGH, WHY DOES GOD HATE ME SPECIFICALLY

but the way joe looks at ming as they linger there in the wake of joe's request looks like a goodbye, the way his eyes soak in every detail of ming's face. despite all of this and the nightmare it has turned into he did love ming, perhaps still does, and he does have some of those good memories he was so desperate to keep.

though like.. joe.... maybe we could consider a different career path??? instead of just jumping to risking our lives? like sure food service sucks, cashiering sucks, etc. but you aren't in danger of falling off any cliffs, you know? and let's be real, he could just go into modeling with those looks.

it's my impression that when ming calls joe he looks haggard, like he's lost numerous nights of sleep (and we really don't know how much time has passed) but either way it does seem like he's at least done some amount of reflecting. his voice comes across soft, subdued, and sincere.

and after everything, back in the present, we see ming. he's still in the apartment, desperately calling joe's name all these years later, still unable to sleep and waiting for joe to come home just like he asked him to years ago.

maybe ming never wanted to enter the entertainment industry before, but he has now. perhaps it was never for the attention or the money, maybe he chose to promote those watches because it was a reminder of the gift from joe. and maybe this job, in this specific industry, is the closest he can feel to joe now. and maybe with new influence and connections ming can find out why he was never able to tell joe he loved him before he lost him.

WHO KNOWS, NOT ME, CAN'T WAIT TO FIND OUT THO

[chamomiletealeaf]

hello! I’m writing for TF141 and I especially want to write for Gaz. However for some reason I keep just lumping him with the same personality as Soap. Tips ;-;??

Hi! I'm so flattered you asked me for advice omg :) Well, from what I've noticed in the game, I personally think Gaz is very intuitive. I think he watches from afar and knows what's gonna happen before it actually does, but doesn't give his opinion unless asked. Part of that I think is one, like I said before, his intuition, but also his training and guidance from Price. I personally think Gaz has had the best character development of all the Task Force since the MW reboot, because he goes from this frustrated recruit not knowing what is too much for him and how to handle it when it is too much, to someone so in control of himself that he's gained phenomenal intuition and self control. He's quiet, calm, an observer like Simon, but he actually is quite snarky (hence his cocky little jokes to Laswell and Price in the MW2 campaign). In the first MW reboot campaign I believe it was, where Gaz had to lead the doctor around the mercs from the security cameras I think showed exceptional intuition and self control since he was so sure she was getting out of there alive and what routes to take. I think that also had to do with just him being a good soldier, but he was very confident (even if it was a playable scene and not a cinematic one, we played as Gaz.) Gaz is always calm when he just knows a situation will turn out alright, and if he visibly panics? You better panic too lol. Soap also led Ghost around mercs in I believe the second campaign? Might have been the third but I believe Soap is just handy with tech due to his demolitions training. Both scenes are very similar, but I feel like Gaz works under pressure more efficiently than Soap mostly because of Soap's temper (Like the scene were Soap almost killed Makarov.)

Anyway, that's just me rambling about my pookie Gaz lol, but I would say the main similarities and differences between Soap and Gaz are:

Differences

Soap is impulsive, hot headed, loud, while Gaz is quiet, a man who thinks before he acts and makes sure everyone's on board with a plan before he jumps into action, intuitive, only gives his two cents when asked, a great advice giver and listener (that last one is just from what vibes I personally get from him rather than from observation throughout the campaigns.) And I think he handles pressure and his temper better.

Similarities

Both Gaz and Soap are both witty and silly. They both are able to find that childlike joy despite the horrors they witness. However, they both know when to be serious even if Soap is a bit more out of pocket than Gaz.

I love both so much, and I'm not saying Gaz is a better soldier than Soap by any means, but that they're different, and handle situations differently.

So when it comes to writing Gaz, I would take all of this into consideration such as: How would a calm approach to this situation be?/ How would observing this situation rather than engaging in it affect the characters?/ What advice could be given to other characters from a well thought out point of view (Gaz's pov)?

I feel like Gaz really thinks before he acts unlike Soap.

And if you wanna get more fun with it, I would ask myself: How would two knuckleheads (Gaz and Soap) observe and react to a funny or shocking situation while staying in character?/ How do clashing personalities bond? In this case, their humor is the same, so writing situations where the two of them are together and giggling at something silently in front of whoever they're laughing at I think is the perfect balance between observing and acting on impulse/lack of self control, thus blending their personalities together.

Sorry if that was a lot, I had a lot to say. I love talking about character personalities and actually evaluated Soap's personality for a college psychology of personality final lol (Got an A).

I hope all of my yapping helps at least a little bit!

[superpowered-dirt]

i never post on here but i have so much in my head about twd: the ones who live i honestly feel like i might explode.

i know all anyone really wants to talk about from episode 2 is That Part of their reunion (which is fair, don't ask me how many times I rewatched it), but now, the part that keeps playing over and over again in my head is this tiny bit:

and i just need to say, danai and andy are so insanely talented bc this clip?? this clip—short as it is, with not a world of dialogue—says SO much about where our two characters are at.

first, rick. i watch this clip and i think holy shit, yeah, that is a broken man. andy does a masterful job at displaying through his eyes and the way he carries himself the extent of the psychological damage and anguish within rick, not to mention the guilt he carries. you can see the gears turning in his head as he reminds himself how he basically gave up on her. how he gave up on himself. how he told himself that he was done, he was never seeing her again, and let himself fold into the CRM. i think it's safe to say he hates himself for his choice to move on. he's utterly crushed by it. like look at him, he can't even meet her eyes!!

and michonne? she sees it. once the euphoria of I Found You has begun to wear off and she lets herself really take him in, she immediately clocks that this is not the same rick that "died" on the bridge. not the rick that led alexandria. not the rick that got them out of terminus. and definitely not the rick that stood up to the saviors. in fact, the last time she saw this version of him, it was right after the first time they ever lost to negan, and that horrifies her, because if that rick is back, then something truly terrible has happened. the look on her face in the clip says a million things, but most loudly, she's wondering, understandably and devastatingly, "my love, what have they done to you?"

the final clue for her that her rick is gone, at least for now, is their next interaction. since forever, both of their instincts anytime they've been told that something bad is coming their way have been to either hoof it for the safety of their family or stand back to back and dispatch the threat. it's the panic in his voice, the sheer desperation as he pleads with her to stand down instead and hide herself after she suggests they go that tells her she has no idea what he's been through or what she's in for now that she's in the shit with him. and even now, if the trailer for E03 has been any indication, she still fails to grasp the danger they're both in. i know what people online have been saying, but she's not being careless, this is michonne we're talking about, she just doesn't understand how careful she really has to be. and then throw jadis and her bitch ass bowl cut into the mix and suddenly a whole new threat looms over alexandria and the commonwealth that ultimately all comes back on rick too? the guilt he now has to face for not only dragging his wife into his mess, but through jadis, also his daughter and all his friends?? and if he finds out now that he has a son too, then there's even more guilt??????

i could go on for hours but i won't. all i'll say is that we're definitely in for such an emotional ride tomorrow. and really there's no one else i trust more than andy and danai to deliver that for us.

[jgroffdaily]

Excerpts from an interview with Jonathan and Maria Friedman at the Los Angeles Times by Charles McNulty, with photos by Justin Jun Lee:

Hopefulness and regret are calibrated to perfection in a revival that ought to be filmed before it closes July 7. I’ve seen the New York production twice, and the psychology only deepens on subsequent viewing.

The key to making this work — which is to say making us care — is the performance of Groff, who humanizes Frank’s choices without sentimentalizing his arc. Frank can come off as a narcissist, a guy who can’t resist whatever shiny object happens to be in front of him. But Groff, who received Tony nominations for his performances in “Spring Awakening” and “Hamilton” and deserves to win for his beautifully layered work in “Merrily,” reveals what Mary and Charley see in him and don’t want to give up on: an answer to their dreams of fulfillment — romantic in Mary’s case, artistic in Charley’s.

Groff was fresh from filming HBO’s “Spring Awakening: Those You’ve Known,” a reunion concert with the show’s original cast and creative team, when casting director Jim Carnahan asked him about his interest in “Merrily.” He immediately watched the London production on YouTube and was struck by an image from the opening number that matched something he had just re-created for the “Spring Awakening” doc.

“Frank walks out with a red folder, and Mary and Charley come out and stand in the exact positions that John Gallagher Jr. and Lea Michele stood in at the end of ‘Spring Awakening,’ with the girl over the left shoulder, the guy over the right,” he said, speaking from his dressing room at the Hudson Theatre. “That is the final bit of ‘Spring Awakening’ and I was like, ‘Oh, that’s so weird. I just lived that.’”

But it was one of Frank’s lines that really clinched the deal for Groff: “I’ve made only one mistake in my life. But I made it over and over and over. That was saying ‘yes’ when I meant ‘no.’” “When I heard that,” Groff said, “I went, ‘Oh, my God. I have to play this. I have done that. I’m just learning how to not do that. Yeah, I get him.’”

“I cast Jonathan for many reasons,” Friedman said. “One, because he’s absolutely brilliant. But I cast a big heart, a beating heart.”

“The amusement and bafflement of having a go at life and everyone wanting a piece of you — that is the place that Jonathan works from,” Friedman said. “Everyone wants a piece of Frank. That’s what happens with brilliant people. Jonathan is not just brilliant and beautiful but also one of the kindest men. And kindness is central to this production.”

Groff, who was exceptional in the short-lived HBO series “Looking” about a group of young gay men living in San Francisco, said that, from “a queer perspective,” he could identify with the way Frank represses parts of himself to please others.

“Growing up closeted, I became an expert at dodging questions and shining a light on other people,” he said. “This can create a relationship dynamic where you’re in a constant state of service to others — like the perfect son who’s hiding something. That stereotype feels connected to the way Frank supports everybody’s dreams, talents, neuroses and needs. He’s able to do it because he’s full of passion and genuine love for those people.”

So how exactly did Friedman, Groff & Co. finally solve the riddle of “Merrily”? By approaching it the way they might a play by Shakespeare or Chekhov, sifting through the lyrics as though they were lines in “Hamlet” and digging into the psychology of the characters as though mining subtext in “Uncle Vanya.”

This revival, fittingly, has been a team effort. And the ensemble’s collaborative joy only reinforces our sense that, however much Frank, Charley and Mary may bitterly disappoint one another, their bond will always be the best thing that ever happened to them.

[miss0atae]

4Minutes a science-fiction story with near death experience and time travel (Ep 1):

I recently watched the first episode of 4Minutes. I finally found how to do it. I was really anticipating this series. I thought I knew what the story would be. I read the synopsis, I read other posts about it, I saw the pictures and the gifs and I made my own story in my mind. I don't know for you, but I can never stop myself from imagining what the story can be. As long as I have few information about a story, my mind is already working and trying to convince me about how the story will be told. After watching the episode there is one thing that it's true: I knew nothing. Let me explain, what I imagine it would be, wasn't what I watched. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate what BOC is trying to do with its BL stories. Kinnporsche was this revisited mafia story, Dead Friend Forever played with the tropes of teen horror movies and now 4Minutes is showing us a mix of noir fiction and science-fiction. I wasn't expecting it and I find it truly interesting to see what they can do. I appreciate how they never use the same formula story for their projects and how they try to give us something different. So I'm not going to review the episode because so many people did it better than me. I just want to talk about why I consider 4Minutes to be a noir science-fiction story at its core and how the link between near death experience and time travel make sense together .

Let's start with saying what is a noir fiction and what is science-fiction and then we'll see why I think it works for 4Minutes. A noir fiction is a genre that really changed a lot. However there are some recurring characteristics: a corrupt system, corrosive effect of money, absurdity of the existence and psychological instability. I would also say that you can also find a mix of violence and sex too as it's often links to the Human condition. In 4Minutes, Great our main protagonist comes from a family who runs a company that serves as a cover for their illegal business. In this first episode, the patriarch of the family is entrusting his first son, Great's older brother Korn, into the “investment department” where most of their illegal business is occurring. We learn that the family has made their fortune through this means. Korn doesn't reject the idea. He is only fearing the difficulties to manager this new job. Is he accepting it because he believes it's right or because he doesn't have another choice… it remains to be seen. Korn and Great's family environment isn't really good. The two brothers, despite being half-brothers are close, but Great is avoiding his parents. As for Korn, he seems to hide them a part of his life such as his relationship with Tonkla (is it because it's a man or because they have this vibe of sugar baby/sugar daddy, we don't know yet). About Great, we know he is drinking and smoking, so mostly he doesn't have a healthy lifestyle and his parents usually have to save him when he mess up. At the beginning of the story, Great is experiencing his first 4minutes time travel that will remain the central plot of the story. This experience puts him in a psychological distress as he can't find a rational explanation to it.

Which leads me to why I believe the story is also from the science-fiction genre. Great is experiencing precognition and time travel and those are topic of undiscovered scientific possibilities you can usually find in science-fiction. It allows the characters and the viewers to experience speculative events. The premise of time often involves changing history or the future. As for now, Great can go back in the past 4 minutes. He only experienced it few times in the episode so he and us, don't know yet how everything is working or why is he experiencing it. Usually, time travel is about altering the past and see how it changes the future to create an altered present or future. The first time, it happened to Great he didn't avoid the woman, but she wasn't as hurt as she was supposed to be. The second time, it changed his first meeting with Tyme. Will Great do more change when he'll accept his new power or will he tries to avoid it? How is it really working? We'll have more answers in the next episodes. I wonder if the story will focus on the paradoxes and alternate timelines or if it's going to be more about contemporary and social issues. The latter works well with the noir fiction, but it's still too early to draw any conclusion. The first episode just set the plot, but also showing us some characters and their links together. I feel we still haven't seen everything.

Then we have another part that was developed in the story and it's near death experience (NDE). I believe it links together the number 4 (Great goes back 4 minutes in the past with his time travel power) and the idea of a time warp as an imaginary spatial distortion. Through this spatial distortion the character could possibly change the past and therefore change the present and the future. I will try to make it simple because it seems easy in my head, but I'm not sure I'll be able to write it properly. So firstly, the number four is considered unlucky in Thai culture, as it is in other cultures too. It is associated with death and bad luck. The Thai word for four, “si,” is also a homophone for the word “death.” Then, we have Dr. Den (a co-worker of Tyme) who is working on NDE by interviewing people who faced it. Their comments are common traits reported by NDErs: a bright light above, a sense of awareness, an out-of-body experience, being(s) dressed in white, receiving a life review… Most NDErs when “coming back” feel a change of attitudes and behaviors. It doesn't mean all of them are positive (I feel like it could be associated with Great's psychological answer after discovering his power). It's also important to notice that Great started to get his power of going back to the past 4 minutes ago, after he hit a woman who wanted to die. So his power of “time travel” is linked to death. I wonder if the series is questioning the paradox of Time: is death the end of time and does time has any end? If we can manipulate the time, can we manipulate death and consequently life too? Maybe I'm trying to find something too complicated in here, but I like that it made me do all these researches. I'm sure it's not a coincidence between all these plot sets, but we'll probably get more answers in the next episodes.

I think BOC is really putting a challenging story and I can’t wait to see how they will do it.

[aihoshiino]

Atp i would like to see how ruby and aqua's relarionship will go. Not in "Yasss incest!" way but more of how they (mostly ruby) realize that they need to go their past lives and accept their relation as siblings. Or at least how wrong it is even if ruby wants it so much. There is no way incest would happen because Aka hates it. I am more interested in their psychological state and their conflict and resolving that conflict.

I don't think we can definitely say Akasaka Loves or Hates XYZ just because none of us know him, but there is a weird sense of like... discomfort or maybe avoidance on the topic of incest in OnK that I find kind of interesting to just poke at in my head sometimes. Because like, one of my main issues with the way OnK has handled the incest since 123 is that it just... well, hasn't.

I know that sounds insane in a post 143 world but going through the way the AquRuby stuff (or lbr just Ruby) has been written since 123, it feels like there's a very clear distinction between the ideas of "Ruby having feelings for Aqua, her brother" and "Ruby (& Sarina through her) having feelings for Goro, her doctor". When the story wants to play AquRuby for laughs, it leans into Ruby being attracted to her brother. When it actually takes things seriously, the framing is almost always Ruby addressing Gorou and the concept of incest is so loudly, conspicuously absent. You can even sort of see this line being drawn all the way back in 123, just at the end where Ruby very pointedly first addresses Aqua and then, separately, addresses "Sensei". It's almost as if she's purposely trying to create a divide so she can have one without dealing with the reality of what it would mean to be with the other.

It's hard to tell whether or not this is intentional in the sense of being part of Ruby's arc but it nevertheless creates a sense of the series wanting to have its cake and eat it too, indulging in the shock value and spicy intrigue of incest as a taboo without meaningfully engaging with it as subject matter. I've described it elsewhere recently as the series exclusively toying with the *aesthetics* of incest, its surface level referential language and set dressing, while resolutely avoiding going any deeper and I still stand by that. The 143 kiss is actually a really good example of this - the imagery is that of two siblings kissing but on that very same page, Ruby reminds us that in her eyes, she is talking to and in love with her "Sensei". The series has conducted this deeply convoluted narrative trick where it can depict what is very clearly incest without it technically being incest. Even when roadblocks to the GRSR relationship are addressed, it's only ever in reference to their age gap and Ruby always frames it as something that *used* to stand in their way but is no longer an issue now she's 18.

On days I am feeling charitable towards the series, I'm inclined to think this is an intentional part of Ruby's arc and that she is, in universe, being a bit delulu about the whole thing as an unhealthy coping mechanism - her being avoidant of emotionally inconvenient truths is something we see popping up more than once, so this being an extension of that tendency would make sense. When I am feeling more cynical, however, I tend towards thinking this is just an excuse to indulge in shocking imagery that generates clicks without ever having to actually commit to upsetting readers by sinking *or* canonizing incest ship. My best guess is that the truth is somewhere in the middle but it must be stressed that this is just my thoughts and I have no idea what goes on in Akasaka's brain.

Anyway this is just a long and rambly way of saying "word". Regardless of what direction the story takes AquRuby, I just want the story to finally fucking commit to something instead of chickening out every time it gears up to do so.

[fanby-fckry]

One Man’s Romcom is Another Man’s Psychological Horror

Day 4 of Ace Alastor Week: Date Night

Word Count: 3,062

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Warnings: Second-Hand Embarrassment, Violence, Stabbing, Hand Trauma, Implied/Referenced Stalking

Relationships: Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Vox (Hazbin Hotel)

Characters: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Vox (Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags: Not Canon Compliant, you can’t prove it didn’t happen (but it probably didn’t), Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Crack, Crack Treated Somewhat Seriously, Genre Clash, Romantic Comedy, Psychological Horror, Angst and Humor, Angst, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Bad Ending, POV Alternating, Unreliable Narrator, Unreliable Narrator Times 2, (seriously they both have such a skewed view of things), One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, One-Sided Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Aromantic Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Romance-Repulsed Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Touch-Averse Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Deer Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being an Idiot (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Out of Character Vox (Hazbin Hotel), (maybe? idk honestly), Bisexual Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Bisexual Disaster Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Incel Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Vox Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Vox is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Misunderstandings, First Dates, Awkward Dates, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Conversations

Series: Part 4 of Fanby’s Ace Alastor Week 2024 ( <- Prev || Next -> )

Summary:

*A*

Vox had proposed a business meeting, the following Friday at seven.

To which Alastor replied, “Splendid! It’s a date!”

Vox’s screen went fuzzy. Ha! It was always very entertaining to watch his reactions to Alastor’s attention. Something so small as accepting an invitation to a meeting was enough to elicit a malfunction. What fun!

“It’s a date,” Vox repeated.

Alastor smiled at him. What an idiot.

*V*

“Szz-seven,” Vox sputtered.

“Splendid!” Alastor replied.

And then he said three words that just about fried Vox’s circuitry.

“It’s a date.”

Vox’s vision blurred around the edges, tunneling until all he could see was Alastor’s smiling face.

He’d fumbled the invitation, made it sound like just another fucking business meeting. And yet, Alastor… Alastor still…

“It’s a date,” Vox repeated.

Alastor smiled at him fondly. Vox thought he might be in love.

*

Vox asks Alastor out on a date; Alastor says yes to a business meeting. Vox’s romcom quickly turns into Alastor’s psychological horror.

Better on AO3

Author’s Notes:

This was meant to be a comedy of errors and somehow turned into a combination romcom/psychological horror. Oops.

I’m sorry to everyone in the poll who voted for this thinking it was going to be all humor. This just kinda… happened.

Set sometime in the late 60’s or early 70’s.

I’m not sure whether or not I wrote Vox OOC. You guys know I love playing with baby Overlords because it gives me an opportunity to write them as more insecure and less stable, and that’s exactly what I did. DLDR and all that jazz.

The bad ending tag is there because Alastor goes final girl on Vox’s ass. Don’t worry, though, nobody gets seriously physically hurt. Just their feelings and their pride.

Alastor sat, back straight, smile strained, through what was turning out to be one of the most awkward nights of his life. And not even the fun kind of awkward!

There was something called second-hand embarrassment that Alastor did not seem to suffer from, as he typically found the social ineptitudes of others to be hilarious – but this was about as close as he’d ever come to relating to the term.

Vox was making a fool of himself. And rather than being entertained, Alastor just felt… Odd.

Alastor sighed. He wondered where it had all gone wrong. After all, it started off simply enough…

*A*

Vox had proposed a business meeting, the following Friday at seven.

To which Alastor replied, “Splendid! It’s a date!”

Vox’s screen went fuzzy. Ha! It was always very entertaining to watch his reactions to Alastor’s attention. Something so small as accepting an invitation to a meeting was enough to elicit a malfunction. What fun!

“It’s a date,” Vox repeated.

Alastor smiled at him. What an idiot.

*V*

It was a simple plan. Start a conversation with Alastor. Ask Alastor for a date. Take Alastor out on a date. Real simple.

So naturally, Vox managed to fuck it up.

“Do you wanna… maybe… get dinner sometime?”

Alastor cocked his head to the side. Fuck, why did he have to be so cute? Vox was already tripping over his words, his speakers glitching from the anticipation of finally asking Alastor out. Those little deer-like motions were going to make him short out!

“Dinner?” Alastor sounded vaguely amused.

Vox felt something surge. He wasn’t sure what.

“Yeah, dinner,” Vox repeated. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, feeling less and less sure of himself by the second.

Focus, focus, focus! he berated himself. Stick to the script!

Vox smiled as confidently as he could manage. “There’s this really nice new steakhouse right on the edge of my territory, and they keep a table open for me on Friday nights.”

In reality, Vox had reserved that table three weeks in advance. But the idea that the restaurant respected/feared their new Overlord enough to offer him a standing reservation unprompted sounded much more impressive.

“I could take you as my plus one.”

Alastor hummed and tapped a single red claw against his chin. “And why would I want to be your plus one?” he asked coldly.

Ouch. Good thing Vox didn’t need a heart anymore, because it felt like Alastor had just ripped it out of his chest.

Vox suppressed the instinctual sound effect that came with the feeling and tried to push past it.

“I just thought we could…” his voice came out stilted and wavery. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “We could talk… and stuff…”

Alastor seemed more interested in his own nails than in the conversation.

Fuck, Vox thought. I’m losing him!

Vox laughed to cover his discomfort. “It’d be like… a business meeting… but with food!”

No, no, no!

Alastor’s smile widened. “A business meeting with food,” he parroted.

Kill me, Vox thought. “Yeah. That’s… what I said.” Put me out of my fucking misery.

“Hm.” Alastor paused for an agonizing moment, then shrugged and said, “Sure, why not?”

Vox perked up immediately. “Really?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Alastor laughed. “Yes, really! What time, Friday?”

“Szz-seven,” Vox sputtered.

“Splendid!” Alastor replied.

And then he said three words that just about fried Vox’s circuitry.

“It’s a date.”

Vox’s vision blurred around the edges, tunneling until all he could see was Alastor’s smiling face.

He’d fumbled the invitation, made it sound like just another fucking business meeting. And yet, Alastor… Alastor still…

“It’s a date,” Vox repeated.

Alastor smiled at him fondly. Vox thought he might be in love.

*A*

Vox insisted on picking Alastor up from his radio tower and driving them both to the restaurant.

Alastor had laughed when he first suggested it, thinking it was a joke. Afterall, it was hardly necessary. Alastor’s powers involved not one but two means of magical transportation that far exceeded the abilities of even the latest and greatest modern automobile.

But Vox wouldn’t budge!

When Alastor asked him why, he’d lowered his big block of a head and muttered something about how it was, ‘more romantic that way.’

Alastor had no idea what that had to do with anything. But in the end, he acquiesced. The whole thing was Vox’s idea, after all. Might as well let him handle the transportation.

*V*

Today was the day. Vox had everything set up. He double and triple checked the reservations – and bribed the waitstaff to play along with his little white lie – cleaned his car, practiced driving the route from Alastor’s tower to the restaurant, and most importantly, bought Alastor flowers.

He’d waffled on the flowers for a while. He didn’t wanna come on too strong – roses felt like more of a third date thing – but he also didn’t want it to seem like he got something cheap or generic.

In the end, he settled on red tulips and rhododendrons – red was definitely Alastor’s favorite color – with some white candytufts to break up all the red.

Vox arrived at Alastor’s tower at 6:26 pm and knocked on the door at 6:29. That would leave two minutes for Alastor to open the door, three minutes for conversation, one for Vox to escort him to the car, and still let them reach the restaurant with a minute to spare.

Alastor opened the door. He was wearing his usual coat and suit – which was fine! Nobody was going to enforce dresscode on the fucking Radio Demon. Vox had dressed up, though. Oh fuck, was he overdressed?

Vox panicked. He thrust the bouquet in Alastor’s direction and said something that sort of resembled the words, “For you.”

Alastor took the bouquet. The bouquet promptly wilted.

“Thank you!” Alastor said, and casually threw the wilted bouquet aside.

“Involuntary phytokinesis!” Alastor explained. “Flowers don’t agree with my powers.”

“Oh.” Vox rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Apology accepted, my friend!” Alastor clapped Vox on the shoulder. “Well, let’s get a move on! Shake a leg, old pal!”

Alastor pushed past Vox and headed towards the car. Vox followed closely behind, resisting the urge to curse under his breath.

This was not how he’d expected things to go.

*A*

The ride to the restaurant was unsettling in a way Alastor couldn’t quite put his finger on.

It wasn’t the automobile or the road or the pedestrians that were the trouble. No, it was the driver. It was Vox.

Something was off about him. How queer.

*V*

They arrived at the restaurant right on schedule. Vox pushed past the crowd of various lesser demons to get to the host station. Alastor watched, clearly in awe of the confidence and power he exuded.

*A*

Vox rudely pushed his way through the demons waiting their turn to speak to the maître d’. Alastor curled his upper lip in disgust, appalled by Vox’s terrible manners.

*V*

Vox flashed the maître d’ a smile. “Table for two.”

“Your usual table awaits, sir,” the maître d’ lied. “Right this way.” He bowed his head, showing Vox and Alastor due respect as Overlords, and led them to their table.

It was the best seat in the house, Vox had made sure of it. Far enough from the kitchens and bathrooms to avoid excess foot traffic or unpleasant smells, close enough to the grand piano to get the full effect of the music without it drowning out their conversation.

The table was set for two, complete with romantic candle light. It was perfect.

Vox pulled out a chair for Alastor – only to have him sit in the opposite seat.

Vox short circuited.

*A*

Vox pulled out a chair for himself. Alastor sat in the seat across from him.

Then, for some unknown reason, Vox froze. Something misfired in that big, square head of his. Alastor laughed.

“I meant to do that,” Vox said, once he regained what little sense he had, and sat down.

“Of course.” Alastor folded his hands in his lap. He smiled as he watched Vox awkwardly fiddle with his silverware.

Vox seemed to be returning to his natural state – insecurities covered by a thin veneer of false confidence which bordered on arrogance, with a deliciously desperate, easily exploitable thirst for attention that couldn’t be hidden no matter what measures the poor man attempted to take.

Good. Whatever that other thing was had started to become… unnerving.

*V*

Vox kept his head down for a while, feigning interest in the silverware while trying to get his shit together.

He was on a date with Alastor. He’d planned the date down to the letter. Nothing was going according to plan.

Vox stole glances at Alastor whenever he dared to lift his gaze.

The candlelight cast Alastor in a warm glow, his eyes a dazzling ruby red. The shadows around him danced – whether from the flickering of the flame or the nature of Alastor’s powers, Vox didn't know. He looked… He looked beautiful.

Vox decided to tell him so.

*A*

With Vox acting more like his usual self, Alastor turned his attention to the menu.

He didn’t suppose they had Sinner meat on the menu – and little more than a cursory glance confirmed his suspicions. Oh well! He was sure to find a cut of meat he’d enjoy.

And besides, he preferred to be selective when it came to sourcing once sentient meat. He’d rather make the kill, himself, or procure it from another cannibal whose tastes he trusted, like Rosie, than order from an establishment he knew next to nothing about.

Speaking of which, the restaurant actually seemed quite tasteful. Live music in the form of a vulpine Sinner playing a grand piano, tasteful decor and fine architecture. Alastor hoped that the food would live up to the atmosphere.

Hm, he’d better get back to the menu. He wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared when their server arrived.

Alastor was just barely aware of the fact that Vox was paying more attention to him than to his own menu, but that really wasn’t any of Alastor’s concern. In fact, it would be rather entertaining to watch Vox scramble to choose a dish last minute.

“You look beautiful,” Vox blurted out, completely unprompted.

Alastor’s ears swiveled in Vox’s direction, but he didn’t deign to take his eyes off the menu. “I look exactly like I always do, Vox.”

“And you’re always beautiful.”

That time, Alastor’s eyes flicked up on their own accord. He felt his ears stand up straighter, and his tail – of all things! – attempt to flip upwards, prevented from doing so by the way he’d tucked it firmly beneath his clothes.

Alastor hummed his acknowledgement and returned to his menu.

So much for Vox being his usual self. What the hell was he on about?

*V*

Vox didn’t need to read the menu. He’d already memorized his order for tonight, down to the last detail. And he’d also chosen Alastor’s. Ordering for your date was a great way to impress them by showing off your confidence and your intimate knowledge of their preferences.

*A*

By the time the server – a lioness Sinner with a sparse mane; Leyonarda, according to her nametag – arrived at their table, Alastor had chosen a drink and an appetizer, and was well on his way to deciding what he would have for the main course.

Vox had apparently also decided, despite barely glancing at the menu. Well, if he had a standing reservation, perhaps he already had a signature order.

Vox gave the waitress his own order, which Alastor didn’t care to pay much thought to, and then did something that caught not only Alastor’s attention, but his ire.

“And he’ll have the-”

“Ha!” Alastor interrupted. “I’m quite capable of ordering for myself, Vox.” So he did.

After the waitress left, Alastor sat, fuming.

The fucking audacity on the man. What had possessed him to think he could make decisions on Alastor’s behalf?

For something as mundane as ordering an appetizer, perhaps Alastor should’ve let it slide. But Vox had been acting strangely and lacking manners all evening.

Now, Vox had always been a bit strange – Alastor rarely wasted time on people that weren’t – and had generally been letting his new Overlord status go to his head when it came to interactions with the masses, but this… This was something else.

Alastor glared daggers at Vox from across the table. Vox wouldn’t meet Alastor’s eye in return. At least he had the decency to be ashamed of himself.

*V*

So much for impressing Alastor by ordering for him. Vox had put so much effort into learning Alastor’s non-cannibalistic eating habits, too!

Not to mention the fact that Alastor had had all of ten minutes to look over the menu while Vox had been studying it for weeks.

And now Alastor had the nerve to be angry with him? What the fuck?

Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. Everything was blowing up in his face. At first, Vox had blamed himself, but now that he’d had time to think about it, really, the problem was Alastor.

Alastor had agreed to go on a date with Vox, and then rejected him at every turn.

Alastor had nitpicked Vox’s choice to drive them to the restaurant, then clammed up on the drive over, practically ignoring Vox the whole way there.

Alastor had destroyed the flowers Vox put so much time and effort into choosing. Thrown them away like trash. And he’d snubbed all of Vox’s attempts to be romantic since.

Alastor had played hot and cold from the very beginning, smiling and laughing and being the first one to call it a date! And now he was giving Vox the cold shoulder?

Talk about mixed signals.

*A*

Vox was giving off mixed signals. One minute he seemed subdued and apologetic, the next he was making some comment or another about Alastor.

Alastor’s appearance, Alastor’s attitude, Alastor’s choice to order his own Goddamned food.

Alastor had no idea what had triggered this shift in Vox’s behavior, but he had half a mind to start taking that mechanical head of his apart in hopes of finding out. Or simply to change the channel from inane commentary and false guilt to screams of pain and cries for mercy.

Either option sounded more appealing than sitting here and enduring Vox’s rapid decline in intellect.

The only thing stopping him was that – tonight’s oddities aside – Alastor considered Vox an ally, perhaps even a friend.

Because Vox’s television broadcasts used radio waves, his empire relied heavily on Alastor’s domain. Alastor had used this as leverage for countless favors, and would continue to do so until Vox outgrew either his usefulness or his entertainment value.

Alastor could always rely on Vox as a source of amusement when that ever-creeping sense of boredom threatened to consume him, and he enjoyed pushing Vox’s physical and metaphorical buttons to no end.

It wasn’t much of a stretch to say that Alastor usually enjoyed Vox’s company. Or that he was hesitant to end their working relationship over one night of… whatever this was.

So, Alastor endured.

And that was how Alastor wound up here, feeling a bit like he should be clawing his own skin off and a lot like he should be flaying Vox’s with one of the handily provided steak knives.

And doing neither because he was waiting to see how the night would play out. Waiting to see if he would get the Vox he used to know back at the end of it.

Leyonarda returned with their drinks. Vox drank freely. Alastor didn’t touch his.

Instead, he rested his hand on the table, tapping his claws against the wood. His skin prickled and itched. His legs were restless. His ears were still standing alert, swiveling and twitching in reaction to the sounds around them.

Since arriving in Hell, there was a part of Alastor’s brain that he’d done his best to ignore. A primal, animalistic part of him that had come free with this cursed cervine form. A prey instinct.

And currently, it was screaming.

Alastor’s claws drummed against the table. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. And his heart matched it beat for beat.

Time slowed.

Vox reached across the table.

Alastor stabbed Vox’s hand.

Vox let out a staticky hiss of pain. His hand was stabbed clean through with the steak knife Alastor had been eyeing. Pinned to the table, just inches away from where Alastor’s hand rested.

Alastor’s bones began to creak. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Vox’s wound was sparking. Alastor’s left hand was still holding the knife. Fortunately for him – though, unfortunately for Vox – the handle was an insulator.

“Me?” Vox all but screamed. “What the fx-ff-fuck are you doing?”

“Enforcing a well-established rule regarding touch,” Alastor informed him. His antlers grew heavier on his head and feedback crackled in both his voice and the air around them.

Somewhere, someone who was not Vox screamed. Then another. Then another. Dishes crashed to the ground, tables were flipped, demons were trampled. A cacophony of terror as the other patrons fled from the sight of two Overlords on the precipice of battle.

“The rule…” Vox’s mouth hung open dumbly for a moment before being replaced by a ‘technical difficulties’ screen.

When his face returned, it was distorted with lines of static. “The fz-fx-fucking fi-i-ive foot rule?”

Alastor twisted the knife. “That’s the one!” he said, aiming for cheery and landing on hysterical.

Vox slammed his non-injured hand down on the table. “You ssz-st-st-STILL wanna use thx-the FIVE FOOT RULE?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Bec-cx-cause we’re on a DATE!”

Alastor’s feedback spiked, screeching with the voices of every Soul that’d met their end at Alastor’s hands. For a moment, Vox’s scream was among them.

Alastor removed the knife from Vox’s hand and laid it down on the table. He reigned in his static the best that he could.

Alastor turned away from Vox. “Forget tonight ever happened.”

“Alastor-”

Alastor turned his head one-hundred and eighty degrees and all the static he’d held back returned to his voice. “Forget it.”

Alastor left the restaurant. He didn’t see Vox again for a long while.

End Notes:

Usually, I leave end notes as an AO3 exclusive perk, but these were very important end notes.

The flowers are foreshadowing. Vox doesn’t know Victorian flower language and picks them on looks alone, but they’re actually indicative of what’s to come.

Red Tulips -> Declaration of Love (Vox’s intentions for the date)

Candytufts -> Indifference (Alastor’s reaction to most of the date)

Rhododendrons -> Danger (shit’s about to go down)

There was another detail that I couldn’t manage to fit which was that the restaurant was meant to be called Carnivora, as in the order of animals Carnivora, and is staffed entirely by carnivore Sinners. Vox either didn’t notice or figured that since Alastor’s a cannibal, it wouldn’t bother him. But that was definitely part of Alastor’s innate sense of danger here.

[batsplat]

omgg i started following you because i loved your motogp posts and i did not expect to get emotionally attacked about my tennis fave like this. you've lit expressed everything ive felt abt tennis lately like daniil's return game has developed so well these last few years if only his shoulders were still functional he wld be soo unstoppable (i remember like last 2 year-ish when his serve suddenly went to shit and i was like wtf is going on?? but then it turned out his shoulders don' work anymore😭😭😭) ngl i did not expect him to make it to the ao finals this yr at all but then he did and i started getting hope again and then well uk what happened next... (i actually went to bed when he was up 2 sets because i alrdy had premonitions for what was abt to happen and i didnt need that experience twice 😭) anyways i finally quit watching the men's tour reguarly middle of this yr-ish because mostly because my biggest opp started winning big tournanments/slams consistently and i cld not take it anymore (part of why i got into motogp ig, i needed a new thing to fill in the hole)

also ur thing being having to be the chosen one in men's tennis is soo true but i wld argue it cld even be broadened down to being in the chosen generation... every 90s born player doomed to be seen as the weak links of the sport, both forever destined to be surpassed by those who came before and those who came after...

anyways mostly i also just wanted to thank you for writing all your super information motogp posts!! not only is ur writing style super informative/consistent, all the topics u've written abt feel super unique like i doubt i wld ever randomly stumble elsewhere. i'm not that good w/ words so idk how to fully express my appreciation, but your posts are the main reason i started delving into more past motogp races and interviews instead of just sticking to current ones which has 1000% made my experience of becoming a motogp fan more enjoyable!

🥺🥺 such a nice ask from a fellow sufferer... I actually tried to sleep in for the ao final and managed for like. maybe a set. it's so funny to have a whole fanbase quite literally begging their player not to go up two sets to love, zero hindsight needed I was HORRIFIED by that second set going his way... especially since I noticed the balance of play in the actual games had changed and meddy wasn't winning any return points anymore, just relying on an earlier break to seal that set iirc. and then I started going for increasingly desperate tactics to distract myself when the inevitable happened in the next three sets (including rewatching marc marquez: all in, it was rough man, like I get what you're saying about getting into motogp to escape because generally I too have fled to this sport whenever tennis has most been pissing me off)

and obviously that final was very trauma flashbacks to my definitive sports trauma, a match I'm STILL not over and at this rate have accepted I'll be miserable about until the day I die. but this time I couldn't even BLAME him because it was an insane effort to even get to the final, he'd done such a fantastic job given his tennis really wasn't there at the start of the tournament, he just kept figuring out ways to win... the hurkacz match where he basically ran out of fuel in the fourth, that crazy semifinal where he just refused to know when he was beaten, and then taking two sets off sinner in that final!! the resilience and the grit but also the tactical acumen, like my god when he blindsided hurkacz by radically altering his return position RIGHT AFTER doing that post-match back-and-forth with courier where he explained in detail why he favoured his regular return position. the cleverness and the bravery he showed in clutch points in that semi, something that zverev is completely incapable of (monte carlo 2023 still lives rent free lol), like the psychology of that match slapped. how he took it so sinner, completely caught him off guard by mixing up his game, and it was WORKING. really managed to change the dynamic of that match up... he lost that match first and foremost in his legs. just so cruel after everything. we had the guy who easily disposed of an admittedly rubbish djokovic in the semis on the ropes. and it still. was. not. fucking. enough. one of the best slam final runs in recent memory and it still wasn't enough!! he's already far outperformed what he SHOULD have been capable of in his career and somehow he keeps developing a game style which should have plateaued ages ago and I have so much respect for the work him and gilles have done post-2022... and he really should have more to show for it

anyway yeah I remember the serve decline in 2022, back when I was really in the weeds with analysing meddy's game. and that was also the year it felt like his legs completely deserted him. his deciding set record that year was horrific after ao, very rarely even got it that far win or lose and when he did so almost always lost (karatsev was cramping, let's not talk about the other third set win)

scorelines from the tour finals genuine miracle i did not throw myself into the sea

only one four set match post-ao and he also lost that, incidentally. and obviously that was partly because his brain was fucked, BUT I also wondered whether it was the aftereffects of the hernia operation that year affecting both the physicality and the serve. and I can't remember if he confirmed that anywhere but the theory's certainly cottoned on to help explain the serve decline, even if his endurance obviously has massively improved again. and then add in the shoulder... it's so brutal because it used to be such a key pillar to his game, like the whole magic was tied together by being able to whizz through his own service games while making his opponent's return games hellish

and like,, the thing I really admire about him is that there was a period in 2022 where it did feel like he'd been 'figured out', like there was increasingly a game plan that could be used against him. serve and volley, etc etc. but to some extent, he's managed to resist just being written off when facing elite competition BECAUSE he keeps coming up with ways to throw his opponents off-balance. what he's been doing this year, for all that it hasn't gotten him great results, has been so much fun to watch - really reminded me of his summer/autumn 2019 stretch where he'd played so much he should've constantly been at risk of keeling over of exhaustion but adapted to it by just becoming a completely different player. wawrinka uso 2019 match still goes crazyyyy, one of his most underrated performances. serve and volley in the uso 2019 final I wanna run to u. it's such a wonderfully unique game that's frankensteining all these unique parts together that all sort of shouldn't work but all sort of do, harnessed and constantly reinvented by (let's face it) the smartest top player currently in the game. and it really does piss me off that he hasn't been rewarded more. he's been the best of the rest since 2019, he's absolutely maximised his game for someone who doesn't have that stratospheric big three-level of talent and I WANT it to actually matter. but men's tennis will always see talent triumphing over guile I fear, and meddy has consistently been a victim of poor timing

and yeah, the generational aspect is true, where the entire ''''''''nextgen''''''''' cohort has essentially been doomed - partly because they just weren't good enough, but partly because they arrived at just the right time window to still be thoroughly traumatised by the big three without getting any kind of a break before the next super talents showed up. until 2022 I really did naively believe we were getting a chaos era of SOME kind until that decrepit spanish ghoul showed up in australia to trample all over my soul and give me depression, and then immediately another bloody spaniard started going at it. how can you not be a little bit bitter that alcaraz got to swan to his first slam title without having to face a single member of the big three? idk man like sometimes it really is the magic of sports that the anointed few don't just have talent on their side, they are also fantastically lucky. you see it with how the big three all secured their first slams... things just seem to work out somehow. infuriating and existentially horrifying

anyway. lol. as you can see I do always have a tennis rant in me. will always be a major part of my life, obviously something I have a far far better understanding of than any other sport, still keep up with the women's game fairly closely... where icl it helps that the players I'm most invested in have dropped off SO badly this year, partly due to injury, that I can merrily ignore their existence. plus, and this bit is crucial, I don't loathe the players who actually win things. so I'm in a happy place where I just enjoy the sport and (if anything) want Certain top players to do better than they currently are... but also don't lose any sleep over the results. like, have I been massively frustrated with iga this year? yes, but it's also not made me stare at a wall for five hours. also, it's just been a way better product than this predictable basher servebot shit from the men. women's wimbledon semi day THE best tennis day of the year, prove me wrong. they've had actual classic matches, which the men have been noticeably short on. just sort of been an odd season for the men, with djokovic shrivelling and alcaraz patchy outside of two slams and sinner doing his whole 'I'm not a cardboard cut out I'm a REAL boy' routine on his way to fifty hard court titles and everyone else irrelevant. as I've already said... it's fine. whatever. hope the sport enjoys fifty thousand alcaraz/sinner slam wins as the earth keeps turning around the sun and eventually we all turn to dust. it's fine

and seriously, thank you for everything in the ask... always happy to hear I've made someone's fan experience like. better. and that I add something a little bit different to the mix lol, also literally no compliment I like to read more than anything to do with my actual writing. because this ask was so lovely, here's my personal favourite moment as a tennis fan this year:

still think that australian open title should be restored to us

[gayalanwake]

WARNONG: WOKE

i know this is . like one of the least important parts of this fic but its Taking Over.

thinking about david. how he grew up with those girls. he saw them in kindergarten and he saw them at graduation. he didn’t just know them, he was friends with them. maybe not the entire time but long enough for it to mean something. granted, “friends,” plural, is pushing it. but everyone knows you cannot even speak to shirley without joanna getting a word or two in. anyways.

thinking about what was unspoken. we know they were friends, but the only glimpse we get is after the fact: after david graduated and left them. why did he leave them. what happened that remains unspoken? was it a specific event, or rather, was the entire friendship the reason? was there any reason at all? was it truly just life getting in the way, making them go down seperate paths, and every vow to call kept piling on top of one another until the only way to deal with the weight was to throw it off your shoulders completely? was it a culmination of factors? what was hurting david: the girls, or himself? does the guilt come before or after he left?

thinking about how we don’t know why they went separate ways but joanna knows. thinking about, “you missed your chance, davey. to save her, too.” in a way, everything we know can be explained with joanna’s words. maybe there was never a friendship. or if there was, it died long before May of 1976.

“The savior complex is a psychological construct that describes a person's need or compulsion to save others, often neglecting their own needs in the process. It's a behavior pattern often rooted in empathy, but when left unchecked, it can lead to unhealthy dynamics in relationships and personal distress.”

anyways.

thinking about guilt, and how much of it david felt. thinking about how unfathomably worse it became on october 28th, 1979.

thinking about how he held beckham and bailey when they were babies. thinking about him crying when he placed beckham back in that crib, back in the possession of joanna. thinking about him staying the night at a hospital, making himself as comfortable as he can in a wooden chair in the waiting room, because an old friend that he believes he abandoned just had a baby and this baby might die.

he believes he abandoned them. he believes he abandoned all of them. shirley and joanna. beckham and bailey.

thinking about how he carried that guilt for years. how he blamed himself for what happened to those girls and the unthinkable horror that will happen to their boys. thinking about all of those sleepless nights where he stared at the ceiling, conjuring up yet another way he could have saved them. infinity plus one.

thinking about him receiving the roster for this class in 1993.

thinking about him seeing these babies again. only they’re no longer swaddled in blankets and falling asleep against his chest to the sound of his heart or screaming in pain from all the tests the hospital is putting him through. they’re boys. teenagers. and they are out of control. they’re uncontrollable. they’re dense. they’re insensitive. they’re disgusting. they’re violent. they’re shameless, something david is not. he blames himself.

thinking about what made david decide to keep the past a secret.

thinking about what made david decide to keep the present a secret, cause the girls are gone. he knows.

thinking about chapter one where beavis says van driessen cried when they graduated and called them, “his boys.” thinking about how that went from a simple narrative joke about van driessen being a wuss to something more. thinking about the hope david was finally able to feel as he watched them walk across that stage. thinking about how when he calls them, “his boys,” it is sweet, as well as grim. they are his boys. his responsibility. david believes he is responsible for everything.

thinking about david wondering if he would ever see them again. thinking about the day he did. he learns beavis plays guitar. shirley played guitar. butt-head is holding shirley’s guitar. it’s broken.

thinking about david being the only person left who remembers when butt-head’s birthday is. how could he forget.

thinking about him playing guitar with shirley’s boy. thinking about everything he was feeling when he realized beavis knows. about the past, their past. thinking about david saying, “your mother… she played very well, too.” thinking about beavis not picking up on this. but of course he wouldn’t. did david begin to cry because beavis did not understand, or did he cry because he knew beavis would not understand? was “your mother could play very well, too,” a way for david to feel like he tried. is he incapable of facing his guilt. is that why he cried. was he able to sleep that night. or the next.

thinking about beavis getting that job. thinking about david seeing him in such a state. thinking of david having a sliver of hope despite his terror. maybe this is it. maybe he can save beavis. maybe he can save butt-head, too. butt-head isn’t here.

thinking about beavis quitting that job.

david failed him. again. he wasn’t able to save someone. again. again, and again, and again, and again.

thinking about how beavis and butt-head are gone now. that house belongs to someone else. they are somewhere else.

thinking about how long david will go without hearing from them. how long will that be before he starts to wonder. how many phone calls will that be before he starts to get nervous. it will only take one visit to that house for that to turn into panic. how many times will he call the police. how many times will he call the hospital. how many times will he visit the morgue looking for unmistakable john does. how long before he thinks they met the same fates as their mothers. mothers he couldn’t save. children he couldn’t save. fates that he believes are all entirely, and indisputably, his fault.

anyways

[merlincersei]

Merlin BBC UK TV Show - A Psychological Analysis Series Part 8

“ The deterioration of Arwen in season 5”

My biggest takeaway from Season 5 is how the Arwen ship was dismantled piece by piece by the show creators.

In season 5, Arthur and Gwen are married, but their relationship was shown to be exceedingly formal, chaste, without true communication and lack of personal touch. Let me elaborate:

Formal : They never kiss in season 5 !!!!!!!!!!

2. Chaste : Arthur and Gwen are always shown completely dressed even in the bedroom

whereas other couples are shown in a more sexually charged light than them.

Shirtless Gwaine and Eira who are not married

3. Lack Of Communication : Scene From Season 5:

Gwen: I know you sometimes desire time alone away from me… If you don’t wish me to accompany you I’d rather you told me yourself than have Merlin do it

4. Lack of Personal Touch :

It looks more like an intentional reference to the episode where Arthur and Gwen first kissed:

Arthur: I can kill a chicken from a thousand paces, just don’t ask me to cook it. That’s what servants are for.

Gwen: I’m not ashamed to be a servant. At least I’m not a liar.

Arthur: We had a nice meal together. What does it matter where it came from?

Gwen: Because I thought you’d shown some humility. You had done something kind for me even though I’m just a servant.

NOW THAT BEGS THE QUESTION, WHY WOULD THE CREATORS DO THIS ?

In cannon stories, Arthur and Gwen are married. Gwen has an affair with Lancelot. Their affair brings about the fall of Camelot.

In the TV series, Lancelot is dead, so the series creator try to highlight another love triangle

GWEN ------------------ARTHUR---------------- MERLIN

They could have Gwen out of this scene, but they didn’t. And if you know how these things are shot, then you also know it wasn’t a mistake on the filmmakers part, it was on purpose.

There are always 3 people in this marriage, and I don’t think that Gwen is very happy about that, even though she doesn’t always voice it out loud:

Gwen’s dissatisfaction of her marriage shows in the Dark Tower episode. Gwen: “Arthur doesn’t tell me anything”. And it wasn’t just a flippant statement.

It all plays into her greatest fears (as Morgana confirmed once again: “The mandrake root is cruel. It pierces the depths of your soul, twisting your unconscious into the very image of fear and dread.”)

So why would Gwen fear her husband lying and mocking her the most? As well as her brother and Arthur’s knight Elyan and Arthur’s best friend - Merlin?

It’s because she doesn’t fully believe Arthur on some subconscious level. This is what Morgana plays into. She knows that Gwen was feeling a little alone even before the Dark Tower (we see bits of it in the earlier episodes, when Gwen asks Arthur to stay with her and he politely refuses and goes with the knights to yet another mission.) “Gwen, you’re not alone now. You need never be alone again. I am the only one you can trust.”

Arthur acts as a knight should with his wife, he gives her beautiful compliments. You can’t really accuse him of abandoning his wife:

But what he does immediately after that? After all, it’s a Gwen/Arthur’s date, he pays attention to Merlin.

And if you ask me, Gwen doesn’t look happy about it:

The last Gwen/Arthur moment in the show ends with Arthur saying ‘Merlin’ and bolting out of bed because he dreamed his servant was talking to him.

LOL at Gwen’s face

And no goodbye :

More importantly, In the final episode of the series there is not a single scene between Arthur and Gwen. What happened there? They gave 'proper’ goodbyes to Perceival/Gwaine and Merlin/Gaius, even Arthur/Gaius. It was actually a stunningly disrespectful ending to the relationship they seemed to prioritize for so long.

It is because the show creators finally emphasized what the show was about in their finale episode:

Arthur does not mention Gwen once in his dying moments what so ever.

2. The Arwen romantic theme plays between Arthur and Merlin. The musical score is shot from Arthurs perspective showing Arthur falling in love with Merlin. LISTEN CAREFULLY

3. And the final clue to the puzzle, Julian called the final episode a love story between 2 men.

Mind you, I’m not saying Arthur didn’t love Gwen and vice versa. They did, but their marriage just wasn’t working as it should have. Give the show creators some credit for drastically reinterpreting the Gwen-Lancelot-Arthur triangle into a Merlin-Arthur-Gwen plot point.

Gwen certainly deserved better than this, so I’m glad sir Leon will be there for her. 

From Season 5 Episode 13 Commentary:

Katie: But she has Sir Leon, why would she need -

Julian Murphy: See, that’s another undercurrent in Merlin. Isn’t it? Sir Leon. Him and Gwen.

And some people like to say that Julian was joking and his words don’t count as a confirmation (And why is that, exactly?), but I disagree. Because Leon is heavily hinted to have feelings for Gwen in the show itself And there is this official promo photo. Mind you there is not a single photo of Gwen with any other knight for season 5 except Leon.

I think it totally counts as canon, because it would have been insensitive to show it explicitly in the show right after Arthur’s death. But still Leon was deliberately shown standing near Gwen and the throne in the last scene.