#this might not be anything but it is TO ME and that's all i'm here for

[inkskinned]

i keep thinking about how rfk said that autistic people "will never write a poem." i keep thinking about that, about if humanity is calculated on the back of old verse. how far we measure personhood is in baseball and stanza breaks.

i keep thinking - i have over 7k poems on here alone. language can be a special interest, after all. did you know the word autism comes almost direct from the greek word autos, meaning "self"? self-ism.

maybe he is right - i haven't really played baseball. i was a ballet dancer instead. and besides - my sister once accidentally hit me in the face with an aluminum bat. i'm not sure if the injury gives me half points. am i only a person in the dugout? hand in a mitt? swinging?

does softball count? does cricket? am i a person if i throw the ball to my dog. am i a person as long as the ball is in the air, or do i stop being a person as it rolls into the bushes. i took my girlfriend to fenway recently; was i a person in the sun, with my hands up, with the game laid out at my feet in a diamond. i felt like a person, but that was back in the summer, and i often feel my most person-like then.

am i more of a person because of the sheer number of things i've written? does quality matter, or is it quantity? i used to write entire books every summer in high school - i wasn't doing well. i felt the least like-a-person back then. but then - does any person feel human in high school?

in the library, ink on my skin, i feel personhood shutter at the edges of myself. actually, writing feels blissfully like not being myself. it feels birdlike; escaping into creation so my body dissolves and i survive only by muscle memory. i am not there, i am writing.

but who can deny the falconlike focus of warsan shire, the tenderness of mary oliver, the sheer skill of amanda gorman. those are poets. they are certainly human. you could line them up with the way their words have influenced us and measure their literary shadows like wings.

perhaps it was very assumptive of me to want to be a poet rather than "a [ label ] poet." i wanted the work to fill itself in, rather than be stained by what i am. i do not write in despite of my neurodivergence, i am just neurodivergent and writing.

does the poem have to be in english or can i send it through my palms into the coat of my dog. does the poem have to make sense. does the poem have to love you back.

if i break a glass, will the poem appear naturally? or is the act of breaking the glass human-enough. the shards of my life glittering out beneath me - do i have to write the poem, or is it self-evident in the pile of glass splinters? i cannot grasp this world the way other people can. regardless, i endeavor to touch - even the mess - very gently.

i broke my toenail against my coffee table recently. i released a bug outdoors. i made coffee. i walked my dog.

i didn't write a poem about any of these things.

something else, then. existing without humanity.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Jamil Viper

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Jamil Viper x Reader 🐍🦐

TAGS: Fluff; a little angst; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Jamil’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 6.220 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I would also like to say: I kept the endings "sama" and "bocchan" because I thought they would make more sense, and since "sama", from what I researched, is gender neutral it could be used with Yuu. I don't know if Jamil's shawl has a specific name. And I'm not good with color names.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy 🐍

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / (Jamil) / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

Kalim seemed to have enjoyed the dream-to-dream journey, and even compared it to his carpet rides. But Vil didn't look or feel very well. It seemed like some kind of motion sickness specific to those dream travels. Everyone agrees that Vil should rest. Silver and Ortho stayed with him in the shade, while you, Grim, Sebek, Kalim and Idia, or rather his tablet, went for a walk to analyze the world of that dream a little more.

After walking around for a while, Sebek comments that it is as hot as in Kalim's dream. Which is explained by the fact that both dreams take place in Scalding Sands. Kalim recognizes the Camel Bazaar and suggests that you all should buy Vil some coconut juice, it's cold and refreshing and might help him feel better. Grim agrees, but Idia and Sebek fear that this could cause problems because they don't have the local currency. However, Kalim assures that everything will be fine.

Kalim orders, to everyone's surprise (or almost everyone's), TEN coconut juices. The vendor gives him a heap of whole coconuts with an opening at the top and a straw each. Kalim encourages you all to try a sip and you do so. It really felt good in that heat. Kalim prepares to leave with the coconuts when the vendor calls his attention.

“Excuse me, sir! You need to pay.”

“Pay? Sorry, I don't have any cash on me.” Kalim responds too naturally and tells the vendor that he can just bill his house like usual.

But the vendor didn't know what Kalim was talking about. When Kalim told him his name the vendor recognized the name, however...

“Al-Asim, huh? If that's true, that's even less reason to put anything on a tab. You think you can dine and dash at MY stall? You've got some nerve, kiddo!”

“This is going south fast...” You say. “There's no returning the juice now that we've drunk it...” You approach Kalim to talk to him about that situation and that's when the vendor finally sees you well.

“OH! (Y/N)-sama!” The vendor practically stutters your name and completely changes his attitude. “I-I didn't see you were in this group. Are they your friends? I am so deeply sorry for my bad manners. If you don't have money with you either, I can just bill the Viper's house if you'd like.”

“The Viper's house?” Kalim wonders. “Why Jamil's house?”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Grim whispers loudly at your feet. “Just say yes and get us out of this!”

You accept the vendor's offer and he lets you go with all those coconuts and a smile on his face. But a slightly scared smile. Returning to Vil, Silver and Ortho, you all discuss what happened.

“So, (Y/N) seems to have more power here than Kalim.” Ortho observes. “And apparently they are also somehow connected to Jamil Viper's house.”

“But how?” Sebek wonders. “And why?”

“Well, by the way the vendor reacted when he saw (Y/N)...” Idia says. “I have an idea... but let's analyze this place better first.”

Vil and Ortho exchange glances with each other, probably thinking the same thing as Idia.

“We can start by checking my place.” Kalim suggests. “Jamil's place is on our grounds.”

Arriving at the place where Kalim's house would be, it was deserted... Literally.

“Wh... This can't be right... MY HOUSE IS GONE! The main building, the annexes, Jamil's home, they're all gone! Where'd everybody go?!”

A local resident who was passing by asked if you were tourists and told you that the Asim Palace had a change in ownership years back. The new owner had it relocated to high ground on the outskirts of town. He didn't know who the new owners were, but he know that the Asims had to give up their house after their business failed.

You go look for the palace.

You all go to where the palace was now and Kalim is shocked to discover that it was true that his house really did get relocated to higher ground. And not only that, but it looked like the exterior's been repainted too. The roofs have gone from teal to red, and the walls from white to black.

“Hey!” A Guard suddenly approaches. “What are you kids doing here? This is a private－ ah! (Y/N)-sama! It's you, and Kalim. My apologies, I hadn't recognized you from afar. Jamil-bocchan has been looking for you to go to school together.”

“Jamil?” Kalim steps forward. “Jamil is here?!”

“What kind of question is that? This is where Jamil-bocchan lives... Viper Palace!”

You discover that the one who bought up Kalim's home was Jamil's father, the head of the Viper family. He bought that manor from the Asims when they were in sore need of money, and know the Vipers were the richest family in Silk City.

After the guard's explanation, you hear music coming from somewhere and an elephant emerging through the front gates at the head of a whole parade. You see that the guy riding the elephant was none other than Jamil, wearing a uniform just like the one the fake Jamil wore in Kalim's dream, but this one was red and black instead of turquoise and white.You also see the dreamer's silver bird around his head.

“Make way! Coming through!” Another guard announced. “Make way for Jamil-sama!”

You all step aside.

“Why are YOU making way, Kalim?” The guard who was with you questioned him. “Take this parasol and join the procession!”

Since you were distracted looking at that guard and Kalim, you got startled when you suddenly felt something grabbing you by the waist and lifting you into the air. When that thing finally lets go of you, you are in Jamil's arms and you realize that that thing was the elephant's trunk.

“Where were you, my desert bloom? You are quite late.” Jamil asks you and then looks at your clothes. “Have you been shopping? Hm... no offense, but I've seen you in better clothes.” He smirks.

Jamil lands you on the elephant's back, but you can't stand on your own and cling to Jamil. He laughs.

“You haven't gotten used to it yet, have you? But let me just change those clothes real quick. You can't go to school without a uniform.” He uses his magic pen to turn your NRC uniform into a uniform similar to the black and red clothes with gold jewelry he was wearing. “Much better~” he says in a lower, slightly seductive tone. “Black already looks good on you, but red looks even better.” He grabs you firmly by the waist to hold you, before turning to the people in the procession behind you. “Get marching, and don't break formation!”

“Jamil looks like he's having a ton of fun!” You hear Kalim say right behind the elephant.

“You there, quiet down! Less talking, more walking!” Jamil orders him.

You look back and see two lines, in front of one of them is Sebek, followed by Vil and lastly Silver, in front of the other is Kalim, followed by Ortho and lastly Grim, who you imagine would be complaining.

“So...” You try to chat with Jamil. “How long is the path to school again?”

“Is it just me, or are you more spacey than usual?” He looks at you slightly suspicious. “Unless... Oh, you're asking because you're tired from shopping, aren't you? Well, Jahar Sahir College is on the other side of the city, but the path is straight so you'll see we'll get there in no time. Enjoy the parade.” His watchful gaze returns to the people behind the elephant. “You there － your parasol is drooping. Hold it properly!”

“Whoops, sorry! I'll fix that right away.” You hear Kalim apologize.

Jamil is very suspicious and attentive. If you take too many risks, he might realize that you are not one of the NPCs from his dream. And it’s not a good idea to take that risk more than 2.5 meters above the ground.

Suddenly, in the midst of the euphoria of the moment, Jamil pulls you to lie on his other arm, making you lose your balance and scaring you. Even if you shouted in fright, it was just another scream in the middle of the cheers. Jamil laughs before pulling you back to your feet and grabbing you to hold you steady. If you hug him or cling to him, he will like it even more.

“What was that?!” You ask, it really looked like you were going to fall off the elephant.

“Ha ha ha!” He laughs in a way you don't remember ever seeing. “I just felt like surprising you.” He smirks. “Or maybe it was a little punishment for disappearing on me and arriving so late to the parade.”

And as another surprise he kisses your lips quite lovingly, but only for a couple of seconds. When he breaks the kiss, he laughs at your surprised face.

“I know, I don't usually do this with so much attention on us. But no one will dare tell us anything.” his smile had a hint of menace.

“All right, we're here.” Jamil finally announces. “Parasols closed, elephants to the stables!”

Jamil leads your elephant to a special platform for you to get off, and he helps you, giving you his hand to support you. You look around and see a school just like the school in Kalim's dream, but once again red and black instead of teal and white. And the statue in the fountain was also different. It wasn't the Ruler of the Oasis's, but you recognized this one, it was a statue of the Sorcerer of the Sands, the same man from the Scarabia Dorm.

“We should go look for Kalim.” Jamil bends his arm to invite you to intertwine yours with his. You do so and he starts walking towards the fountain. “Kalim! Where are you?!” He shouts displeased.

“Oh, I'm right here!” Kalim waves with a big smile. “Hello!”

“Don't give me that!” Jamil retorts. “How can you loaf around without looking after your boss...? Wait. What's with that outfit? Did you botch your color-changing magic again?”

It was as if all that joy of his had disappeared as soon as he approached Kalim. It was a little sad to see, both from Kalim and Jamil's side.

“Huh? I didn't botch this.” Kalim explains. “It's supposed to look like the Ruler of the Oasis. Cool, right?”

“The Jahar Sahir College uniform uses traditional red and black colors like what the illustrious Sorcerer of the Sands wore. What were you thinking, bleaching them to your whims? The nerve.” Jamil takes his magic pen and changes the colors of Kalim's clothes to the same as his.

“Ooh, the colors changed! These are pretty nice too, actually. Thanks, Jamil!”

“I think you mean to say, 'Thank you very much, Jamil-sama, sir.’” Jamil corrects with an offended expression. “Honestly... You'll never let go of that pampered rich boy demeanor, will you? Look. The Asim family owes the Viper family more money than you could pay off with a lifetime's worth of work. So you should try to make yourself at least a LITTLE useful to me.”

“Jamil!” You say, as if asking him to moderate his words.

“I know, you don't like it when I'm like this to Kalim, but he needs to know his place.” He looks at you strangely, almost sulking. “You always had a soft spot for him that I never understood.” he addresses the group again. “By the way, who are you people? Jahar Sahir College isn't open for the general public to just waltz in.”

Silver explains that they are from Night Raven College and Vil says that the reason they came to Scalding Sands was a Film Research Club project, but that they had heard so much about Jahar Sahir College that they had to visit it. He said they were looking for the reception and it was shortly after that Kalim spotted them and approached them. Jamil seems suspicious at first, but after thinking about it for a while he supposes there is nothing strange about it.

“Considering their shabby attire and vapid expressions, I'm sure they're simply students.” Jamil murmurs.

“Hey, I heard that!” Grim informs.

“Oh dear, I beg your pardon.” Jamil says smugly. “I let my inner voice slip out there...”

“Wait a minute...” Grim notices the way Jamil talks to him. “You don't recognize me?”

“Recognize you?” Jamil repeats, confused. “My apologies, but I don't remember ever meeting a little beast like you.”

“WHAT?! You know (Y/N) but you don't know me?!”

“What does one thing have to do with the other?” Jamil turns to you. “Do you know this strange cat?”

As Grim complains that he's not a cat, you think about what to say. But what should you say? That you don't know him? That you met him once? But when? And how? The more time you let pass, the more suspicious Jamil would become.

“We crossed paths with (Y/N) before the parade.” Vil saves you. “I think Grim developed a special liking for them after meeting them.”

You see Grim look surprised at that excuse and then lower his ears a little sad, reluctantly accepting his new role in Jamil's dream.

“I can see why.” Jamil smirks. “I've never met anyone who wasn't enchanted by (Y/N). Which is ironic coming from someone who is not a mage. Allegedly.” He looks at you with that mischievous smile and raised eyebrow.

“Forgive my indiscretion if so.” Ortho says. “But would I be correct in concluding that you two are a couple?”

“Yes, you would.” Jamil answers casually.

“However, you said that they are not mages, but they are students of Jahar Sahir College?”

“An exception was made due to personal circumstances.” Jamil said defensively. “Nothing you need to... worry about.” He finished in a slightly threatening tone despite the smile. “Returning to the subject of your visit. As the student council president, I would be a far more fitting person to show you around campus than Kalim.”

“Oh, truly?” Vil smiles. “How fortunate for us to receive hospitality straight from the student council president himself.”

“I wouldn't want Kalim giving them the impression that our students are subpar.” He mutters.

Jamil says that, personally, he is interested in hearing about Night Raven College. He knows about the Dark Mirror and says that Scalding Sands also has long been a flourishing producer of magical artifacts.

“There's the Magic Flying Carpet, the Great Serpent Staff, the Hourglass of Clairvoyance...” He looks at you for a split second with a smile on the corner of his mouth, when talking about the hourglass. “And the Magic Lamp.”

Jamil says that the Sorcerer of the Sands himself employed such artifacts in his great deeds, and that to this day many people in Scalding Sands, including students from Jahar Sahir College and Jamil himself, are interested in them. He also brags about his family's treasure being bursting with artifacts collected from all over the world.

“I'd love to hear more about the ones housed at your school.”

“Ooh, wow! You liked (Y/N)? I had no idea!” Kalim says. “I'm so happy for you two. And you're the student council president? That's great, Jamil!”

“Why are you acting like this is the first you've heard of it? Not only do you GO to this school, but you and (Y/N) are friends. Now stop standing around and prepare a proper reception for our guests”

“Whoops! Right, I'm supposed to work for Jamil. Okay, a proper reception means a party, right? I got this!”

Kalim starts by asking someone to prepare a party, until Jamil reminds him that this was HIS job. Then Kalim says that a party needs drinks, but instead of going to the kitchen to get some, he uses his signature spell, Oasis Maker, to make it rain.

“You fool!” Jamil says to Kalim as he uses his own shawl to cover you and try to keep you from getting too wet. “Who goes around spraying water without any warning?!”

“We'll need food, too.” Kalim continues, oblivious to what Jamil was saying. “I'll go grab some food from the kitchen! Be right back!” The rain dissipates as he runs away towards the interior of the main building.

“What's gotten into him?” Jamil mutters again. “He's never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's usually not THIS bad.”

“Maybe he's just too excited that we have guests from so far away?” You suggest.

“Trying to alleviate his incompetence as always.” he mutters to you, slightly disapprovingly, before turning back to the others. “Ahem... I'm sorry you all had to see that.”

“Please, don't worry about it at all.” Silves tells him.

“Here you are, Jamil - uh, I mean, Jamil-sama!” Kalim comes back. “I brought a bunch of your favorite foods. Look! I've got a whole pot of curry, some dates... Oh, and lots of silky melons! Where should I put them?”

“I had a bad feeling, but seriously... Who brings the food out before they even set out rugs and tables?! This is beyond bad. You're utterly useless!”

“Ah hah hah! Sorry about that! I've never done this sort of things before.” Kalim apologizes, good-humored as always. “Jamil-sama, could you hold the pot of curry? (Y/N), Grim, you hold the dates and melons.”

“Mrah! Don't plop a whole pile of melons on my head!” Grim appeals unsuccessfully. “Geez, this is heavy!”

“Okay, I'll get some rugs next!” Kalim announces excitedly and runs away again.

“Hey, wait! What kind of staff makes their bosses and guests do the work?!”

“I thought you hated dates.” You say, looking at the large basket full of them that Kalim passed into your hands.

“And I do.” Jamil confirms. “At least someone remembers. Ahem... I'm so sorry about this.” he apologizes to Grim too. “I'll keep the dishes levitated with magic. You don't have to hold them.”

“Ooh, it's all floatin' now.” Grim says relieved. “That's much better!”

“Ugh, that dimwit gets on my last nerve. Mom and Dad are far too lenient. And so are you.” Jamil tells you.

“I see you don't like that about me.” You concluded as the others spoke amongst themselves.

“It's not that I don't like that side of you and you know it. But there are people who don't deserve it.”

“Well, I think Kalim deserves it.” You defend him.

“How stubborn.” Jamil sighs. “But I'd be lying if I said I disliked it. Depending on the situation, it's quite attractive.” he smirks.

You didn't know, but while the two of you were talking about Kalim, the others were also talking among themselves about Jamil and you.

Grim wondered if Malleus's spell wasn't supposed to be giving people happy dreams, but Jamil was in a snit, he didn't seem all that happy to him. The Shroud brothers concluded that this dream followed the same pattern as Vil's dream. Kalim was a source of stress for him, just like Neige was to Vil. But Kalim exerts an outsized influence over Jamil's personality and capabilities in reality. Removing a figure that influential would make the dream more prone to major paradoxes. Unlike Grim, and maybe that's why Jamil didn't remember him.

“Nonetheless...” Ortho sees Jamil smiling at you, even after that silly little argument. “He seems pretty happy with (Y/N).”

“True, he seems more relaxed with them.” Silver agrees.

“We must not deviate from the main point!” Sebek reminds them. “We need to make Jamil realize this is a dream as quickly as possible!”

“Right.” Silver agrees. “Between this place and the bazaar, Jamil's definitely got a strong imagination. I don't think a simple shock would do the job. How do we approach this...?”

Kalim returns, saying he went to Zahab Market and got some nice pieces from the rug merchant. Vil comments that those "nice pieces" look like they'd cost an arm and a leg. Jamil finally seems satisfied with Kalim's work, taking the opportunity to boast again about his family being the richest and most influential in the city.

“Anyway, check this out! Doesn't this carpet take you back?” Kalim shows him a carpet almost identical to the flying carpet of his that you knew, but instead of red, this one was purple.

“Take me back? Why would it?”

It was a regular, unenchanted replica of the flying carpet. Kalim talks about a time when the two of them and his father went to a rug merchant, Kalim thought it was a real flying carpet, spread it out on the ground and walked right onto it. That got him a scolding.

“How could I forget? The look on that merchant's face when you stepped on a vintage silk carpet with your muddy shoes－HRK!” The dream world begins to distort. “Wait... I would never take someone as overeager as Kalim to a high-end store. Rgh... What's going on?! I suddenly feel dizzy...”

Seeing Jamil wavering, the others encourage Kalim to keep talking. Kalim remembers a time when they snuck out of the manor to visit the Camel Bazaar and drank coconut juice together, but Jamil says that Kalim was the one sneak out on his own and Jamil had to scramble after him. Then he remembers a time, just before they enrolled in Night Raven College, when Jamil used his signature spell to make the bad guys fight each other to get him and Kalim out of trouble. But this time Jamil insisted that he didn't know what he was talking about.

Kalim says that he was always the best and most dependable friend he could have, and that he trusted everything would work out just fine as long as he left it in Jamil's hands. But he was the only one of them who felt that way and now he know that Jamil hated it all along.

“That's why you used (Y/N), Grim, and the students in Scarabia to try and get me kicked out and sent home, right? Winter break sure threw me for a loop. I was super crushed when you betrayed me and told me you hated me.”

“Used (Y/N)?! How dare you... I would never... I... I did... What I did... That Winter break...? Betrayed? Augh! My... My head!”

The world distorts a little more.

Kalim says he doesn't know what Jamil is thinking, but he knows that the person he is right now isn't the person he really wanted do be. He wanted to be the best version of himself, but that isn't this.

“Remember who you truly are!” Kalim transforms his clothes into his Scarabia Housewarden uniform, which makes Jamil start to remember.

“What was that scene just now? It shouldn't be familiar to me, but... it is. The... The real me is...”

“JAMIL-SAMA!” You hear someone shout, and a second Kalim, wearing a Jahar Sahir College uniform, appears running.

“There are two Kalims!” Silver says. “That means...”

“Yes, it must be the darkness.” Vil completes.

“Jamil-sama, when I heard you went to school earlier than usual. I scrambled to catch up...” Fake Kalim says, worried. “Oh no, how could this be?! Please, hold on! I'll get you to a doctor! Guards! GUARDS!”

The ground was painted black and Jamil began to sink rapidly into darkness, surrounded by a dark fog that prevented him from seeing you all well. And guards of black goop formed to prevent you from approaching them.

“Kalim...?” Jamil says with some difficulty.

“Yes, that's right. I'm the real Kalim, your loyal retainer.”

“Huh? Jamil, look again! That's not me!” the real kalim tries to warn him.

“He's an assassin sent to end you.” the fake Kalim tries to convince him “Don't listen to a word he says.”

“Wait...” Jamil looks directly at you with heavy eyelids struggling to stay open. “(Y/N)... they...”

Black goop rises from the ground and forms a figure, a perfect copy of you, also wearing Jahar Sahir College's uniform.

“I'm right here, my love.” your copy tells him. “They had the nerve to impersonate your beloved as well. But I'm here now. The real me. The real (Y/N). Look in my eyes. As long as you stay here, you can be a ruler forever. Money, land, freedom, love... Everything is yours!”

“Yes... That's the truth...” Jamil gives in. “You're absolutely right, both of you...”

“Wait! Trust us, not them!” Kalim shouts again. “JAMIIIL!”

But none of that stopped the darkness from swallowing Jamil.

“Stop disturbing Jamil-sama's sweet dreams, you street rats!” The false Kalim commands you.

“As if we'd listen to you!” Sebek retorts. “Let's do this!”

You all change your clothes and fight the darkness. And after defeating it, Kalim jumps into the pool of black goop without hesitation behind Jamil, followed by all of you.

When you open your eyes again, you see that you’re in the Hallway of Scarabia Dorm. By the red light that dimly illuminated the place and the dark fog, you realized that it was the same scenario as when Jamil overbloated. Suddenly, you hear a creepy laugh you've heard before and you all go to the lounge.

“I did it... I finally got Kalim ousted from school and claimed the position of housewarden for myself!” Jamil is the center of attention in the room, wearing his drom uniform, and had that psychopathic smile on his face. “Bring on the food and drinks! This calls for a celebration. The foolish king is gone, and the true power behind the throne has risen in his place!”

While the Scarabia students follow his orders, you see Azul next to Jamil with that red glow in his eyes.

“Wait a minute, those eyes...”

“Hey, (Y/N). You put it together too, right?” Grim tells you in a whisper. “Looks like Azul ain't fakin' it like he did during winter break. He's really under Jamil's control.”

Most of the dorm's students, who were all actually the darkness in disguise, were gathered in the lounge. You were decidedly outnumbered. Idia says that the best thing would be to get into a more advantageous position and make a surprise attack, so you will quietly make your way behind the students and then launch a coordinated strike on cue. Silver says that Idia should give the signal and the others would carry out the attack.

“Ahh, I feel on top of the world. So this is freedom! How sweet it is.” Jamil keeps chattering. “The biggest thorn in my side, Kalim, is gone. Azul has fallen into my hands.” he looks to his right side to see Azul standing right there. “And (Y/N)...” He looks to his left side, but finds no one. “...is trying to escape again? *sigh* Bring them back to me!” he orders the Scarabia students.

Silver pulls you behind a pillar and you all hide.

“Mrah! What do we do now?!”

“Hand (Y/N) over.” Idia says to everyone's surprise.

“What?! Have you gone insane as well?” Sebek protests as quietly as he can. “What about the surprise attack?”

“Listen, if Jamil really likes (Y/N) he won't hurt them.” Idia explains. “And (Y/N) can help distract him and provide a more effective surprise attack.”

Sebek, Silver and Grim are reticent, but you are the one who takes the initiative and gives yourself to the Scarabia students while the others remain hidden. Two students hold you by the arms and take you to Jamil. And to your surprise, as soon as they let go of you the darkness forms shackles around both of your wrists.

“It pains me to see you reduce to this, (Y/N).” Jamil tells you and pulls you by the chains of the shackles to bring you closer to him. “But you insist on resisting me. Oh, and those clothes... Let's give you more suitable ones, shall we?” He uses his magic pen to turn your NRC uniform into a Scarabia Dorm uniform. He laughs with satisfaction. “A beautiful desert bloom such as yourself should be on the arm of the most powerful housewarden in Night Raven College. What do you say, my dear? Why refuse to be my new Vice Housewarden, and partner?”

“To be honest... I also have a crush on you, Jamil.” you admit and he smiles, too pleased. “But not this version of you. The real you. Or rather, the best version of you, that I know exists behind this senior psychopath.”

“The... real... Hrk!” his head hurts and the world distorts a little, but Jamil pushes you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

“I'll teach you some respect... but until then...” he orders that the Scarabia students grab you by each arm and lift you up. “Let's just calm that rebelliousness of yours for a while.”

As the students hold you by the arms, he holds your chin to make you look at him. You knew what he wanted to do to you and struggled to keep him from using Snake Wisper on you. You are saved by Kalim, who attacked Jamil before the signal with a solid blow.

“Wh... Kalim?! What are you doing here?!”

Silver and Sebek attack the students who were holding you and free you from the shackles by breaking them.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Silver asks you, holding you in his arms in case you need a little comfort.

“Huh? I don't understand...” Sebek says. “The students aren't attacking us...”

“YOU BIG DUMMY!” You hear Kalim say.

“D... Dummy?!” Jamil responds in disbelief.

“The biggest one there is!” Kalim punches him again. “How can you treat (Y/N) like that?! I may not have realized you liked them, but I know you would never do these things to them. You don't want to force them to like you. You want them to like you for who you are. That's why you started getting nervous whenever we met with (Y/N), right?

“Nervous? ... Hrk!”

The dream world begins to distort as he remembers the first time he felt good around you and then begins to worry if you secretly hated him for what he did to you and Grim on Winter break.

“You don't want to use them, you don't want to deceive them.” Kalim continues. “And the same applies to competing with others. What you wanted wasn't a prize earned through dirty trickery! And you know it! Wake up right this instant, Jamil!”

“What I wanted? ...Hrk!”

The world distorts again with another memory: Jamil telling Kalim to shut up! Telling him not to give him orders! That he was through following other's orders! That he was going to BE FREE!

“Argh, you keep trying to tell me my business...” Jamil says, annoyed. “What would someone as oblivious as you even know about me?!” he punches Kalim.

And the two of them begin to fight while insulting each other. Until the insults are reduced to one adjective at a time between punches. Cynic, Imbecile, Jerk, Airhead, Blockhead...

“Such childish bickering...” Sebek comments. “The other students and Azul are all pawns made from darkness, but they're just standing there staring.”

He suggests that you aid Kalim, but Silver stops him.

“Let them get it all out of their systems.” Silver says. “Sometimes a fist fueled by emotion is more effective than any words. ...It definitely was for me.” He gives a small smile.

After some time of fighting, Kalim starts laughing.

“Huh? What could you possibly have to laugh about right now?” Jamil questions.

“Y'know, Jamil... I think this is the first time in our 17 years together that we've ever fought like this!”

“What?! Well, obviously! If I beat you up in reality, it would spell disaster for... Ah?!” The world distorts again. “Gaaah! Augh! It hurts... My head! In reality...? Why did I say that? Rgh, augh...!”

“That's right. This is all just a dream! Please, Jamil, remember! Remember the real you!”

“Right... That day... What I did to you... What I did to... Ah, aaagh...” Jamil remembers what happened on winter break, the dream shatters and he wakes up. “Heh. Haha... Ahahaha... That's right. I failed to oust you that day.”

Kalim celebrates that you all managed to wake up Jamil, but after a little chit-chat the ground starts to shake and fissures began opening all over the place. The dream was starting to break down because Kalim wasn't supposed to exist in it.

Idia warns everyone to get out of the dream as quickly as possible, but then the floor started giving out beneath Kalim. Jamil dove in to save him and the darkness began to dragging him in. Kalim grabbed Jamil to try to get him out of there, but Jamil told him to leave him and punched him when Kalim refused to do so. If you had also tried to help Jamil, he would have just push you too. And Jamil was swallowed by darkness.

When you returned to the dream after the Shroud brothers informed you that it was safe, you landed in Jahar Sahir College. And when you see Jamil he is wearing his Scarabia uniform. Kalim ran to hug him but Jamil dodged successfully.

You and Silver say you're glad he made it back, and Jamil says that he owe all of you a great deal before asking if someone could please fill him in on what was going on.

After the Shrouds show him the explanatory video he says he gets the general gist, and admits that he wasn't entirely sure the rest of you weren't more illusions he subconsciously conjured up, but he never would have thought of the cheat tools idea that Idia came up with. And continued talking about the possibility that it was part of Malleus' spell but it didn't make sense to bring it up to him at all, if that were the case.

“So it's probably safe to accept that all of you aren't illusions created by me or Malleus.” Jamil finally concludes.

“Dude, you were questioning our whole premise...” Idia comments.

“Why wouldn't I, after having my mind, my memories, and my whole world rewritten? But... if you're all real that means...” Jamil looks at you and starts to get worried. “W-when exactly did you get here?”

“Some time before you appeared riding an elephant at the start of the parade.” Ortho answers.

“Yes, we were even part of it!” Kalim adds smilingly. “It was super fun!”

“S-s-so... those people at the parade...” Jamil stutters as the panic grows. “T-the person w-who was with m-me on top of the elephant...”

“Aaaall that until we lost you to that black goop after our fight.” Kalim adds, oblivious to the main point.

“So... that means... that (Y/N)... that whole time...”

“Jamil Viper, please breathe.” Ortho asks him. “I am detecting worrying imbalances in your aetheric structure.”

“Jamil looks like he's going to explode with embarrassment.” Idia says. “I don't even know if that's possible in a dream, but I'd rather not find out.”

You realize the best thing to do is to calm him down, he was unable to say a single word anymore. You take his hands, tell him everything is okay and ask him to breathe.

“I-I-I'm really sorry...!” He says still in panic and almost petrified. “I-I don't know why I did that... I-I didn't want to... I didn't...”

You hug him and feel how tense all the muscles in his body are.

“It's okay. I don't blame you.” You say in a whisper close to his ear. “We don't control our dreams. If you remember what happened, do you remember what I told you?”

“W-what did you tell me?”

You confess that you like him too and that you knew that wasn't the real him. Maybe you even say that you’re willing to forget all that and start over as it should be when you return to the real world.

You then feel Jamil’s muscles begin to slowly relax. Until he reciprocates your hug, is as gentle as it is strong.

“I'm sorry...” He apologizes in a whisper, probably the most sincere you have ever heard or will ever hear from him.

“Aww, GROUP HUG!” Kalim says excitedly.

“NOOO!” Everyone else grabs him and stops him from joining you.

“My goodness, Kalim!” Vil scolds him. “You really need to learn how to interpret social insights.”

When you break the hug, he still tries to look you in the eyes, but can't. You chuckle and cup his face to make him look at you.

“Ironic.” You say with a reassuring smile. “You being the one who doesn't want to look into another person's eyes.”

A small smile begins to form on his lips and he brings a hand to one of the ones you have on his face. He looks at your lips for a second and when he sees you smiling connivingly, he kisses you.

A kiss that lasts until Grim loudly clears his throat. As soon as Jamil breaks the kiss and looks at the others, remembering that they exist, he... isn't embarrassed. He smiles smugly at them, still holding you.

“Hey, last time I checked, it was still my dream.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[m4rybb]

THIS.

Booktok has basically become a synonym for "trashy" because apparently people forgot that books can just be fun. Not everything needs to be some profound, life-altering experience. Some of us just want to enjoy ourselves without being judged like we're on trial for crimes against literature.

If I had a coin for every time someone told me to "read something age appropriate" instead of fantasy, I would be richer than all the sad old men whose books they worship. And no, they don't even try to be polite about it. They mock you. Like being excited about magic and dragons is some kind of moral failing. Fuck you and your petty literature, go outside, touch some grass, and get a breath of fresh air, the dust you constantly breath while reading your old novels might have reached your brain.

These "book snobs" really read one depressing novel written by some miserable Russian dude, and suddenly think they’ve transcended humanity. Congrats, Fëdor. Enjoy your misery. Meanwhile i’ll be over here, reading about my strong female protagonist that defeats her enemies all while serving, and that inevitably falls in love with the shadowy fae that was supposed to be her sworn enemy. Because I enjoy it. Have you become allergic to happiness after reading that sad little book?

And don't get me wrong. I've read classic literature. I actually LOVE IT. BUT I'M NOT AN ASS ABOUT IT. But some people just don't enjoy reading it. AND THAT'S OKAY. What if all the funny little books disappeared? You know what would happen? Some people would just stop reading and will never open a book again. It's what you really want? Because from the look on today's society people should really read more.

Just because I like a different genre doesn't mean I don't deserve basic respect, they don't teach you that in your "intelligent people" books?

Actually, All this hate is rooted in deep internalized misogyny. Men have always hated when women have fun. Boybands? ridiculed. Twilight? ridiculed. Romantasy novels? ridiculed.

If women like it, it must be mocked. It must be shallow.

And no, it’s not a new phenomenon, look at "Madame Bovary" written in 1856.

A whole book basically blaming a woman’s dissatisfaction with her miserable life on the fact that she dared to read romance novels. When she was literally a teenager stuck in a convent. What the fuck was she supposed to do!? Pray all day? Count the bricks on the wall?? Maybe the problem wasn’t the books. Maybe the problem was that her life sucked.

And yet somehow women have always been the ones punished for wanting more. For wanting passion, excitement, emotion, joy.

I’m so done. Let everyone have their silly little books. Let everyone have their silly little fandoms. Just be happy and shut the fuck up if you don't have anything nice to say.

it’s so funny when people online act like women reading trashy romance novels is like. a new phenomenon and a sign of the downfall of society bc this has never been a thing before. this has been an extremely popular genre of book for ages. the only difference now is that they’re written by women who wanted to fuck kylo ren. which i guess is annoying. out of every man in star wars like be so serious. they had harrison ford in those movies

[puck-luck]

omg your celly is so cute! i’d like to order a cappuccino with cold foam for luke hughes. i just really want something cute or playful with yearning from luke. maybe friends or friends with benefits? i hope this makes sense and i did this right, thank uuu

thank you!! i hope this was enough yearning for you, i'm thinking that luke really does want something more with y/n. i think y/n just doesn't want anything to change between them. we'll see if this blurb continues in the future (i might add a pt.2 in another celly request<3)

“Oooh, Y/N and Luke are going in the closet,” Kayleigh chirps. Rutger sits next to her, arm slung over her shoulders. He sticks out his tongue, grinning widely. Similar chirps echo through the room as you and Luke stand up, rolling your eyes and making a face at all of the onlookers. They’re making a big deal out of this game and the fact that you and Luke are going into the closet for seven minutes. What they don’t know is that you and Luke started hooking up in his first semester at UMich and it has continued through each of his visits back to the state.

“Oooh,” Luke mocks as he closes the door, plunging you both into darkness. He turns around and faces you, grinning widely.

“I can’t believe I have to be in the closet with you,” you bemoan, pinching your lips together and scrunching your nose fondly when Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his whole body sagging. As he stands back to his full height, though, his smile is wider that Rut’s.

“I know,” Luke responds. “It’s such a joke. You and me in the closet? As if anything would ever happen between us.”

You chuckle, biting your lower lip lightly as Luke locks the door behind him. The click sounds and your eyebrows twitch, daring Luke to come closer.

He does. He approaches you with his tongue poking through his bite, giggling breathlessly as he cradles your face and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. He consumes you whenever he kisses you, always treating it like it’s the last time he’ll get the chance. 

“Is this all we’re going to do in our seven minutes?” you ask between kisses. 

Luke hums, tongue stroking yours sensually. “Consider it foreplay.”

“You confident that you’ll get to home base tonight?”

“You think I won’t?”

Now it’s your turn to hum, tilting your head to the left and reconnecting with Luke when he tilts to his left. “Hmm, I don’t know. Don’t you have to leave soon? Go back to your parents’ house since you don’t live here anymore?”

Luke makes a wounded noise, his hand trailing down from your jaw to cup your tit. “Are you making fun of me?”

You giggle. “I’d never.”

Luke’s kisses turn softer. It’s probably been four or five minutes now, so your time is coming to an end. You’ll have to separate soon, but it’s so hard when Luke’s entire palm is sealed over your breast comfortably. If you had more time, Luke would brush his fingertips beneath the underwire of your bra or reach past the cup to thumb over your nipple. 

“You should meet them,” Luke murmurs. “I think they’d like to meet the girl I’ve been sleeping with for a couple of years now.”

“Careful, Lu,” you warn in your sweetest voice. You twirl a curl around one of your fingers, tugging gently. You brush his lips again. “One of these days, someone will start to think that you like-like me.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Luke ponders aloud. He smiles into the kiss and moves his palm from your chest to your behind. He smooths over your ass, digging his fingers into the meat there before letting go. “I feel like someone has been saying that for a while now.”

“Oh, but he only says it when he’s having sex,” you tease. “It really confuses a girl.”

“Well if the girl comes to meet my parents…” Luke trails off. He fills your mouth with one last sweep of his tongue and plants a kiss on your neck. “It’s not really just when we have sex, is it?”

“Maybe sometimes when you’re on the road, but then you usually start jerking off.” You beam up at him, hands removed from his body and clasped behind your back. “But I don’t mind.” You let your eyes roam down his figure before your friends outside open the door and catch you and Luke in a situation. “You should wear looser pants next time we play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Inviting me to meet your parents really gives you a stiffy.”

He grins at you and tries to adjust himself into a position less noticeable. “Better?”

You shake your head, snickering. “It’s just too big, Lukey…”

“Don’t– talk about how big my dick is,” Luke says through gritted teeth. “You’re going to make it worse.”

You brush past him towards the door, cupping his cock through his pants. “Size kink?”

Luke hisses at you, sucking air through his teeth and circling his fingers around your wrist. He pulls your hand away, holding it in front of his chest, far away from his crotch. “Stop it.”

You wiggle your fingers at him and unlock the door with your other hand, twisting the knob and leaving Luke to sort out his big problem.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

What Sylus can do with his Evol

(That we know of)

A few notes:

1. Sylus' Evol is Energy Manipulation. Which is a bit vague to interpret just what that encompasses, but if we take it to mean all form of energy then the implications of his powers become staggering and honestly pretty terrifying. Quite literally everything around us contain energy. As per Einstein's famous equation, E=mc², mass itself is a form of energy, ie simply having mass means an object has energy. Meaning that there might be no limit to what Sylus can control and manipulate, and this is supported by the original CN text of his anecdote, where his Evol is described as essentially all-encompassing and all-powerful.

2. This post is merely a list compiling all (or nearly all) that we have canonically seen Sylus do with his Evol. It is purely for enjoyment and to hype up our man. I will not go into details on the physics behind his power or anything like that – that I leave to more intelligent minds than mine. I'm just a gremlin who likes making lists and looking at details and (sometimes) connecting dots. Math and physics? Worst subjects in school ;-; would rather sit through 89 consecutive rounds of Find Tobias than one half hour of math.

3. If I missed anything on this list, don't hesitate to point it out to me!

4. I want to give huge thanks to @kookieluvs for kindly sending me the direct (fan) translation of Sylus' anecdote! It goes into more detail on Sylus' Evol than the localization (where things sadly seem to have gotten lost in translation) does, and really gives you a sense of how truly powerful (and frightening) it is. A link to the translation is included above, and I highly recommend you check it out!

Without further ado, here is the list of what Sylus canonically can do with his Evol

✧. Disintegrate fully grown men in a matter of seconds

Nothing is left behind of these men. No blood, no matter, no nothing. As though they never existed in the first place.

(He has also done the same to inanimate objects, like bullets)

✧. Create extremely powerful energy charges

The man actually punches a crater into the ground oml

✧. Create energy bursts

✧. Infuse his energy in weapons

✧. Create black holes(?!?!)

...do you see what I mean when I say that this power is lowkey frightening af?

✧. Transform his body into pure energy

Great for when he needs to dramatically leap off skyscrapers or old cathedrals. Taking the elevator or the stairs is for lesser men. Gotta make a memorable first impression, you know?

✧. Teleport (himself and others)

✧. Heal wounds in an instant

These wounds can range from minor cuts to bullet holes. Meaning that he can repair deep internal injuries and bleeding.

✧. Mend shirts

Yes. I'm deadass. Look at the images above.

✧. Evaporate blood

And presumably other liquids.

✧. Halt fatal internal diseases

We see him do this – rather brutally – to the twins in Mischief (World Underneath Story). The twins had 3 months left to live before that. They're alive and thriving over two years later.

✧. Summon people and objects to him/Levitate them

He will occasionally do this with plushies in the claw machine too, if you let him play and if he is feeling extra helpful. A (small but still important) portion of my affinity comes from Sylus summoning plushies in a color I hadn't gotten yet.

✧. Control and restrain others' movements

✧. Manipulate Objects

Another example of this is him shutting the doors in Philip's shop in the main story. Or unlocking the handcuffs in Midnight Stealth.

✧. Put out lights

He does this in chapter 3 of the anecdote

✧. Seal off entire areas

Does this as well in the same chapter as above

✧. Strangle

What he does to Sherman in the main story

✧.Change colours of flowers

And presumably of other things. I gotta be honest, this right here is to me one of the most insane things he can do because of what it implies about just how crazy powerful and encompassing his Evol truly is.

That's all I have for the strictly Evol driven powers (I have more than likely missed something, in which case I apologize 😔 I am only human. A very tired one at that. But like I said, there probably isn't a limit to what Sylus can manipulate anyway so... writing down every individual thing would be... a lot dhdjfj).

However.

I am not done.

I still want to quickly discuss a few more of his powers, because this man still isn't OP enough ig. But I put them in a sort of separate category since I am pretty sure they are not tied to his Evol but rather to his aether core and his demonic powers.

Anyway, to start off

Sylus can control/invade minds

This is only really touched upon in the anecdote as far as I can remember.

Those affected by this lose all awareness and consciousness of their surroundings for as long as Sylus wants them to. We learn that some of the victims were never quite the same again after. These details make it clear that this is not strictly mind control, but something deeper and more terrifying – a complete and total invasion of it.

Sylus can see people's innermost desires thanks to his aether core

He reveals this to MC in LAR.

Sylus can transform into a dragon

99.9% sure of this. Check out this post for more of my reasonings.

Sylus (or Stayrus) can resurrect the dead

"Even if your desire is to resurrect the people of the Ivory City, it's still within my capabilities" word for word what Sylus/Stayrus says in Beyond Cloudfall (Chapter 3). We don't know whether Sylus at present still has this ability or if it is affected by the tether/shackles that restrict his powers.

Which reminds me of one final thing...

All of the above that I have listed (excepting the final one), have been performed by Sylus in a nerfed state. He is unable to use his full powers due to above mentioned tethers/shackles. It's still a mystery when, how, and by who they were placed within him.

Sure would be nice to have some extra lore right about now don't you think, Paperfold?

Anyway, Sylus OP as fuck. His only true weakness is the love of his life. How that will play out only time will tell (actually I can tell you right now. They will marry and live happily ever after with their baby girls and with Mephie and the twins. The end. Trust.).

With this, I am finally done with this post. I hope you guys enjoyed it ♡

I myself will finally go to bed

_(´ω`_)⌒)_

[pomelace]

amber liquid

pairing: frank langdon x afab! reader

content warnings: not proofread, no physical desciptors used for reader, implied age gap (about 11 years), takes place after s1 of the pitt, mention of breakup & divorce, alcohol consumption, intoxication, emotional vulnerability, flirting, kissing, mild smut (nothing to graphic, I can't write smut to save my life). as always let me know if I missed anything!

magui speaks! : this legit came to me at 2 a.m. when I should've been sleeping, but honestly, when you have a good idea, you have to write it. I wanted to try writing smut but gave up — I legit can't do it; all props to those who can. let me know if you guys want more fics like this! I really enjoyed writing it and stepping outside of the usual hospital setting. as always, I hope you enjoy, and requests are open! (someone pls request)

word count: 3504

Maybe you should’ve seen it coming. Maybe you should’ve guessed he wasn’t ready. And maybe—just maybe—a small part of you wasn’t either.

But guessing that he didn’t want to be together anymore?

That had never even crossed your mind.

Six years together. Six years of laughter, of holidays spent hand-in-hand, of whispered promises in the dark. You thought you were happy. You were sure he was too.

So what went wrong?

You don’t have an answer as you sit hunched at the bar of the restaurant—the same restaurant where, less than an hour ago, your boyfriend dumped you.

It was supposed to be date night. A special night. You had curled your hair, slipped into your best dress, painted your lips the shade he said he loved. You had even dared to hope he might propose.

Instead, he gave you a goodbye.

Now, you sit at the bar, your hair slipping loose from its carefully pinned bun, staring blankly ahead as the waiter slides a shot of tequila toward you.

You toss it back without hesitation, the liquor scorching your throat, leaving a burn that barely registers. Another. And another. You drink until the line between anger and sadness blurs, until your own misery drums in your ears louder than the soft music playing overhead.

It’s a slow night. Quiet. You barely notice when someone slides into the seat beside you.

You keep your eyes down, tracing the rim of your empty glass.

“What are you drinking?” a voice asks—a man’s voice, low and easy.

“Tequila,” you reply, your voice quick, almost defensive. You glance up—and meet his gaze.

He’s older than you. Not ancient, not graying, but maybe a decade your senior. His blue eyes catch the warm light above the bar, sparking just a little.

Before you can say another word, he lifts a hand to the bartender.

“Another shot for her,” he says, smooth and sure.

You manage a small smile—your first real one tonight—as the fresh shot slides in front of you. You raise the glass, clink it lightly against his, and down it in one quick swallow.

He mirrors you—less gracefully—coughing once as the burn hits him harder than expected.

“Celebrating something?” he manages between coughs, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“More like mourning,” you murmur, your fingertip circling the rim of your glass.

He coughs again, this time from surprise, struggling to find the right words.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry for your loss,” he says finally, voice soft, almost tangible in the way it wraps around you.

You laugh—a sharp, unexpected sound. He looks confused until you set the record straight.

“No one died,” you say. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

For a second, Frank just looks at you—then relief floods his face, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh. Well... in that case,” he says, shifting to face you fully, “the guy’s a goddamn idiot.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.

“Smooth,” you say, dry.

He shrugs, utterly unapologetic.

“Hey, I'm not here to win points. I'm just telling the truth.”

For a moment, you just look at him. The easy way he smiles, the unbothered tilt of his shoulders, like nothing in the world could hit him too hard. It’s a little annoying. A little comforting, too.

“I'm Frank, by the way,” he adds, tapping his chest like you might’ve been dying to know.

You glance up, eyeing him with a bit of suspicion.

“Well, Frank, are you always this charming, or is it just the tequila talking?”

He shrugs with a grin, clearly unfazed.

“Maybe a little of both. But I assure you, the charm’s mostly natural.”

You snort. “Natural, huh? More like 'forced'.”

“Hey, I'm not the one drowning tequila like it’s water,” he points out, raising an eyebrow as he gestures to your empty glass.

“I think you’ve got your own coping mechanism.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“Touché. So, what, you just come to bars to offer unsolicited life advice and overpriced shots?”

“Nah,” Frank says, leaning in slightly with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m here to save you from a night of self-pity. A public service, really.”

You stare at him for a beat, then shake your head with a quiet laugh.

“God, you're a piece of work.”

He grins, unrepentant. “You’re welcome.”

You set your glass down with a soft clink, taking in the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Alright, Frank Langdon. You’re buying the next round, right? Or am I supposed to keep drowning my feelings while you play bartender?”

He lifts his hand in a quick motion, signaling the bartender.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this. I’m here for the long haul. Just don’t expect me to let you drink your problems away.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what, you think one more round of tequila will fix it?”

He leans back, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Maybe not, but it’ll definitely make it more interesting.”

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

By the fifth shot, the tequila had softened the sharp edges of reality.

The hollow ache you'd carried has dulled, replaced by something lighter—something dangerously close to joy. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the stranger at your side, but for the first time all night, you feel a little less alone.

Tipsy now, you and Frank lean against the bar like old friends, shoulders brushing, each too stubborn to admit just how much easier the night feels with the other there.

He’s in the middle of telling you a story about the time he stitched up his own hand in med school—because he was, in his words, “too stubborn and too drunk to admit it hurt”—and you’re laughing so hard you nearly spill your drink.

“You’re such an idiot,” you gasp, clutching your stomach.

“Certified,” Frank says proudly, slamming his shot glass down. "Got a degree and everything."

You shake your head, grinning. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose a finger.”

He holds up his hand and wiggles his fingers dramatically. “All ten. Still sexy.”

You snort into your glass. “Debatable.”

Laughing, he flips his hand over, showing you a faint scar that cuts across the fleshy part between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes catch on the mark—small but jagged, like the story behind it—and for a second, you're almost charmed by the ridiculousness of it all.

Almost.

Because that’s when you notice it.

The thin silver band, sitting there plain as day on the fourth finger of his left hand.

You blink, the drunken haze clearing just enough to register what that means.

He’s married, you think, the realization landing with an uncomfortable thud in your chest.

You sit back a little, the weight of what you’ve just seen settling heavier than any amount of tequila.

Frank doesn’t notice at first—still grinning like an idiot, clutching his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him. You watch him, every instinct firing warning shots in your head.

“You wound me, sweetheart,” he says dramatically, tapping a hand over his heart. That cocky, lopsided smile is back—the one you’re starting to realize isn’t an act. It’s just him.

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” you say, your smile fading clean off your face.

He catches the shift instantly, leaning in with a teasing glint in his eye.

“What should I call you, then?” His voice drops a little, playful but not heavy, the kind of flirting that feels easy, harmless—if not for the ring still sitting heavy on his finger.

You open your mouth, ready to fire back something sharp—but all that comes out is a scoff. Your brain is too clouded with tequila and the sudden, sour taste of disappointment.

That’s when he notices. The coldness he hadn’t seen before. Confusion flashes across his face, and he leans in again, trying to catch your eye.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks, his voice quieter now, genuinely concerned, as if he has no idea what he's wearing.

You tilt your head, voice sharper than you mean it to be: “Does your wife know you’re out here handing out pity shots to heartbroken strangers?”

His smile slips, just a little. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face before he sits back in his stool, schooling his features into something easy again.

“No wife,” he says. “Not anymore.”

You arch a skeptical brow.

He huffs a low, humorless laugh, reaching for his glass and twisting the ring around his finger.

“Divorced,” he clarifies. “Signed the papers six months ago. Just... haven't taken it off yet, I guess.”

You study him now, properly. The easy charm, the quick wit—it’s still there. But underneath it, you can see the cracks. The exhaustion. The way some people carry their hurt like it’s stitched into their skin.

“Why keep it on?” you ask before you can think better of it.

Frank shrugs, the barest lift of one shoulder.

“Habit. Guilt. Laziness. Pick your poison.”

You don't have an answer to that. So you just nod and reach for your drink, letting the silence stretch out between you, strangely easy, strangely human.

Frank’s eyes stay on you, a little too intense now, like he’s not quite sure whether to keep poking the fire or step back.

He leans in slightly, his grin returning, though it’s more of a soft, knowing smile now—like he’s trying to find the right words, but not quite sure how to approach it.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low but playful, “I could’ve been a counselor, right? Deep stuff, just me and a couple of shots of tequila. I’d charge you, but I’ll give you a free session for tonight.”

You snort, trying to fight the grin threatening to tug at your lips.

“Uh-huh. What’s your rate, then?”

He gives you an exaggerated, thoughtful look.

“Well, it’s a sliding scale. But for you? Free. For now. We’ll work out the details after you pay with a drink.”

You roll your eyes, but the laughter slips out anyway.

“You’re ridiculous. What else do you charge for? Self-pity sessions?”

“Of course,” Frank says with a deadpan expression.

“I’m a pro at helping people feel bad about themselves while simultaneously offering unsolicited life advice. It’s a talent.”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“I think you’re selling yourself short. You could really make a business out of that.”

“Hey, it’s a full-time gig,” he grins, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s all about commitment to the cause.”

You shake your head, feeling the liquor starting to work its way through you, loosening your muscles, softening the edges of the night.

“I guess I should be grateful. I was about to start feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I get a free therapy session.”

“Least I could do,” Frank says, his voice taking on a quieter tone.

“But don’t expect any miracles. I’m no miracle worker.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and something shifts between you two. He isn’t joking anymore. There’s a sincerity to the way he watches you, like he can see something in you that maybe you’re trying not to acknowledge.

The silence lingers just a beat too long, and you can’t help but feel a tug in your chest.

You glance away first, clearing your throat as you take a long sip from your glass.

“Guess we’ll see if the tequila does its magic, huh?” you say, trying to brush it off.

Frank nods, but his eyes stay locked on you, searching, like he’s trying to figure out what’s behind your smile.

“I think it’s already doing its job,” he says softly, his gaze lingering.

“But maybe not in the way you think.”

You meet his eyes, and for a moment, it feels like the air is charged, a quiet tension settling between you two. The playful edge from before has softened, replaced by something more unspoken, more intimate.

For a second, you almost wish you could just forget the world outside of this conversation, forget the hurt that brought you here, forget the ring on Frank’s finger that keeps reminding him of the reality he lives in now.

But the weight of it all presses down, and you break the silence with a soft laugh, the sound forced but somehow real.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Frank had insisted he take you home, by that, he meant riding a cab with you. You two were far too drunk to get behind the wheel, and to walk straight without stumbling.

The cab pulls up in front of your house, the engine humming to a slow stop as the late-night air wraps around you like a cool blanket. For a moment, you just sit there, staring out at the dark, quiet street.

The lights from the porch are soft and welcoming, but the weight of the night presses in on you like a fog.

The door opens, and Frank is the first to step out. He moves with that same easy confidence, like everything in the world is exactly where it should be. He stands outside the cab, waiting for you to follow.

You hesitate for a second, your mind buzzing with a mix of tequila and too many unanswered questions. The cool breeze hits your face, clearing some of the fog in your head. Frank turns back toward you, catching your hesitation, and gives you a playful grin.

“You know,” he says, his voice teasing but with an edge of something softer, “I’m not gonna carry you to the door if that’s what you’re waiting for. I’m already pushing my luck by not falling over on the sidewalk.”

You laugh lightly, the sound a little more genuine than you expected. You push the door open and step out, the ground under your feet feeling a little less solid than it should.

“Good thing I can walk myself,” you say, brushing past him.

He hands the cab driver some money and asks him to wait as he follows you at a leisurely pace, matching your steps but keeping his distance—just enough to give you space, but close enough that his presene is felt.

As you approach your door, the key feels heavier in your hand than it should. You fumble with it, trying to fit it in the lock, and Frank steps up beside you, leaning slightly against the doorframe as if he's been here a thousand times before.

“You need help with that?” he asks, his voice a little quieter now. The playfulness has faded, replaced with something that feels almost... careful.

You shake your head, finally getting the key to turn. The door clicks open.

“Thanks for making sure I got here,” you say, your voice quieter now, more serious.

“I probably would've ended up face-down in a bush if I tried it alone.”

Frank chuckles, a low sound that rumbles in his chest, easy and warm.

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

As you reach for the handle and push the door open, you almost stumble, your balance slipping for a second.

Frank moves instinctively, a hand shooting out to catch you, but you tighten your grip on the handle just in time, steadying yourself with a small, breathless laugh.

You turn back to him, lingering in the doorway, the porch light throwing a soft halo around the two of you.

“I want to say I'll see you around,” you murmur, sincere and soft, "but we probably won't."

Frank’s smile falters, the grin fading into something smaller, more real. He scratches the back of his neck, looking suddenly, painfully sober.

“Who knows,” he says, a thread of hope weaving through his voice.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Then you offer him a small smile — the kind that feels like a goodbye and a maybe all at once.

Before you can turn away fully, Frank shifts his weight, like he’s fighting with himself. His hand brushes lightly against the doorframe, hesitating.

“You’re not the only one who needed tonight,” he says, voice low, almost rough.

You freeze, heart catching somewhere between your ribs. The air between you stretches, electric and fragile. For a moment, neither of you breathes.

Then you’re moving — or maybe he is — it doesn’t matter, because the next thing you know, you’re reaching for him, pulling him by the collar of his jacket.

Your mouths collide in a kiss that's messy and desperate, all teeth and heat and aching need. His hands find your waist like he’s done it a thousand times before, anchoring you against him.

The cab outside gives an impatient beep beep — a harsh reminder of the real world waiting just beyond your front porch. Frank breaks the kiss for half a second, glancing back toward the street — then without a word, he guides you inside and kicks the door shut behind him, the soft thud echoing through the quiet house.

And then he's on you again — gripping your hips, your back hitting the inside of the door with a soft thump. You gasp against his mouth, and he swallows the sound, kissing you harder, hands sliding up under the hem of your dress like he can't get close enough.

Clothes, decisions, consequences — they all fall away, unimportant in the face of this electric, reckless need.

Frank lifts you with startling ease, and you wrap your legs around his waist without thinking, your arms tightening around his neck.

He carries you a few steps deeper into the house, bumping blindly into a wall, laughing quietly against your mouth like he can’t quite believe any of this is happening.

You break apart just long enough to catch a breath, your foreheads pressed together, both of you panting. His hands skim down your thighs, rough and reverent all at once, as if grounding himself to reality through you.

“Bedroom?” he murmurs, voice wrecked and breathless.

You nod, dazed, and point down the hall.

Frank doesn’t hesitate — just turns, still holding you close, and starts down the hallway, kissing you between every few steps like he physically can't stop himself.

The world narrows to the feel of his mouth on yours, the strength of his hands on your skin, the way he murmurs your name like a secret he’s afraid to lose.

When he finally finds the door, he shoulders it open and stumbles inside, both of you laughing breathlessly through the haze of want.

He drops you onto the bed with a gentleness that doesn't match the wildness in his eyes, then crawls over you, kissing you again — slower now, deeper — like he’s determined to memorize every inch of you.

You thread your fingers into his hair, tugging him closer as his mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, down the line of your throat. He lingers there, breathing you in, his hands splaying wide across your ribs like he’s trying to steady himself.

“God, you’re...” he starts, voice breaking like he can’t even find the words. He kisses you again before he can try.

Clothes become an afterthought — a barrier that both of you work to strip away with frantic hands, punctuated by soft gasps and half-laughed curses when fabric gets stubborn or tangled.

Frank pauses every few seconds, checking your eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. But you just pull him closer, giving him your answer without a word.

When there’s nothing left between you but heat and skin, he looks at you like he’s seeing something he doesn’t think he deserves. His thumb traces the line of your cheek, gentle, reverent.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he says, rough and honest.

And then he’s kissing you again — slower, more deliberate now, like he's savoring every second, like he’s afraid it’ll be ripped away.

His hands map your body with careful, aching thoroughness, every touch setting your nerves on fire.

His hand roams down the curve of your sternum, slow and sure, until he cups one breast in his palm. You gasp, the sound spilling from your lips before you can catch it, your back arching into his touch.

He strokes his thumb lightly over your skin, reverent, almost awed, as if he’s memorizing you one careful inch at a time.

He touches you with such aching tenderness, like you're something precious — fragile, irreplaceable — something he’s terrified to hurt or lose.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his voice so low it’s almost a prayer.

You shake your head, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

“Don't stop,” you whisper, barely audible, but it’s all he needs. His mouth finds yours again, a little more desperate this time, his hands mapping every curve of your body like he’s trying to brand the memory of you into his skin.

You cling to him just as fiercely, drowning in the way he feels, the way he makes you feel — alive, needed, wanted.

Tonight, you’re not thinking about tomorrow.

Tonight, you’re just feeling.

©pomelace 2025

[seimsisk]

I'm gonna be honest here, I used chatgpt to write some emails and abstracts two years ago. I did it because I was at the end of my rope and I knew it would take me weeks to write a couple paragraphs and abstracts are basically just summaries but I just couldn't get my anxious ADHD brain to do it. I knew doing those tasks without help would be painful and slow and would fuck with my already tattered self esteem and also my schedules. I knew that because it wasn't the first time I had to do such tasks under such circumstances. Those were not small tasks. They were not easy. I had written hundreds of emails in my life and tbh each single work email was a challenge and the stuff I had to write was complex, and I had written dozens of abstracts in my life and the thought of writing a couple more in a tight schedule kinda made me wanna kill myself. None of this is exaggeration; if anything I'm underselling how it felt like.

Writing those emails and abstracts with help from chatgpt was magical. It undercut my anxiety somehow, and I managed what I had never managed before - I actually managed to complete all those tasks on time. The result was subpar ofc, but the fact that I managed to submit subpar results and not hate myself was in itself a win. I'm not sure how much harder it would have been to get my degree without that small help. I might have lost another month or two or twelve, because these things can become a snowball.

Two years later, my mental health is much better. My confidence is better. I can write several emails on a good day, but even when I don't have a good day I can still write an email in a couple of days. I haven't used chatgpt since then, because I can do so much better now. But I haven't forgotten the suffering that led me to it, and I'm so tired of the discourse here just completely dismissing it. "All of us used to write emails ourselves" yeah maybe (I mean I sure asked for help several times to the point of overburdening my partner probably) but at what cost? It's like sure I could jog everytime I need to go buy my groceries and certainly in the long term it would be healthier, but also there would be times when I would go hungry because jogging would be too hard, no matter how much practice I had.

I have many criticisms of genAI and maybe we should avoid relying on it too much but we don't need to pretend like it's not fulfilling a real need here.

the scariest thing about the generative AI thing is how quickly people have accepted it as an indefinite, irrevocable part of their reality. people have genuinely convinced themselves that ChatGPT is the only solution to most tasks - tasks they did with their own brain without any large effort two years ago. like you know damn well all of us used to write emails ourselves why are we pretending like this is an impossible task to do with your own two hands. what's with the fucking. AI revisionism. i feel like i am going insane.

[theywantedplayer]

Could you write, bringing up divorce under the angst prompts with Mat????

PromptList

MasterList

AN-I feel like I'm so bad at wrapping up fics, I generally struggle to wrap it up at the end 

Matt

“If you're really gonna say that, then maybe we should just get a divorce.”

The words slipped out before you could even process them, hanging heavy in the air between you. The bedroom went completely, suffocatingly silent.

Matt's face, which had been twisted with frustration, froze. His brows furrowed in shock, and his mouth opened, then closed, trying to find the words that would make this all go away.

“A divorce? Is that... seriously what you want?” he finally managed, his voice low and rough.

“No, no, no, I—” you stammered, reaching for him instinctively, but he took a small step back. Panic filled your chest. 

Your heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest at this point. Divorce. You'd thrown the word out like it was nothing when it could end everything.

“I don't—I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean it,” you said shakily, running both hands through your hair.

A heavy silence stretched between you. You could see his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he was physically trying to ground himself.

Matt finally sat down on the edge of the bed, his head dropping into his hands with a shaky sigh

“I just... I don't get how we got here,” he said quietly, voice cracking. “I hate fighting with you, I just-” He took a deep breath. “I hate this thing we have between us, this constant fighting.” He told you to gesture between you.

Your chest ached hearing his weak voice. You knelt down in front of him, placing both your hands on your knees.

“I know Matt, I know” you whispered. “I shouldn't have said that, I need you to know I didnt even it”

Matt lifted his head, his eyes glassy with tears with threatening to fall at any given word. He reached out and threaded his fingers through yours; you could still feel the slight shake in his hands.

"I'm sorry too," he said, voice hoarse. "I love you more than anything. I don't care about whatever we were fighting about. I just-” He took a second to breath “I just don't want to lose you over something so stupid” 

Tears blurred your vision as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. Neither of you spoke for a while, just clinging to each other, thinking about how you were going to fix whatever rough patch your marriage was in. “We’re gonna get through this, right?” He asked 

“Yeah, we’re gonna get through this.”

Jamie 

"Jamie?” You asked quietly as you stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom 

He hummed in response not looking up

“Do you-?” you took a shaking breath looking up at the ceiling trying to keep your tears away “Do you want a divorce?”

Jamie’s head snapped up from where he had been sitting at the edge of the bed, pulling off his hoodie after yet another late night practice. His face twisted in shock at the thought of you thinking that.

"What?" he breathed out. "No—no, Y/n Why would you even think that?”"

“Because Every game, every practice, every meeting….. it's always something more important. I'm tired, Jamie so tired” You told the tears breaking through your waterline “I'm tired of coming second."

He stood up fast to close the space between you. His eyes were wide with desperation. "You’re not second," he said quickly. "You’re not-God, Y/n, you’re everything to me." 

"It doesn’t feel like it," you whispered. "It feels like I’m just... here. Like I'm just the thing you come back to when everything else is done."

Jamie’s hands shook as he ran them through his hair, his whole body tight with panic. "No. No, that's not true. I swear to you that is not true."

"I didn’t know you felt like that," he whispered, voice cracking. "I swear, I didn’t know." His eyes searched every inch of your face frantically trying to pick out small details.

You wiped angrily at a tear sliding down your cheek. "Because you’re always gone, Jamie. Or exhausted. Or thinking about the next game"

Jamie pulled you into his chest  not wanting to hear the things that you believed because to him they weren't true,  you were never second to him. His chin rested  atop your head as he took a deep breath "I'm so sorry," he whispered, tears filling his own eyes now. "Please, Y/n, please tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this. I'll do anything."

You looked up at him, your bottom lip trap under your teeth “I just want you to be back in marriage, physically. I don't want to have to ask for your attention”

"I will," Jamie whispered. "I swear I'll be here. No more making you feel second. God im so sorry baby–fuck,I didnt know”

He took a deep breath, “I love you so much,h” He told you as he kissed the top of your head

Quinn

"If you want a divorce, Quinn, just say it and I'll give it to you!" you shouted, your filled with frustration 

Quinn’s head snapped toward you, his eyes filled with the same frustration in your voice 

"Are you serious right now?" he fired back, his voice sharp. "You think that's what I want? You think I’m just waiting for a way out of this?"

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, trying to keep yourself from breaking apart right there, but you knew you had to hold your ground even though you were just so tired.

"What else am I supposed to think, Quinn?!" you snapped. "You don't talk to me, you barely even look at me anymore! I feel like I'm fighting for this marriage by myself because last time I checked I got married to You! But where are you Quinn!" Your tone was laced with sarcasm towards the end of your sentence 

He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, pacing a few steps before turning back to you, chest heaving with anger and the disbelief that you even brought up the idea of a divorce.

"I'm sorry Y/n I'm so sorry ok!” he shot back. "You know how stressed and tired I am when I come home, after being picked apart all day by the coaches, the fans and the fucking media. I come home with nothing left in me but don’t you dare act like I ever stopped loving you."

Neither of you spoke for a moment, just breathing heavily, staring at each other. Both wondering if this marriage was going to crumble on a random Tuesday night. 

Your vision blurred with tears you didn’t want to fall. "Then why don't you talk to me about this, i'm over here thinking that you don't even love me anymore Quinn"

He stared at you, the anger in his face changing in the guilt he was feeling, the guilt he's been feeling for a long time, just knowing this argument was bound to happen.

"Because you're already stressed with classes and work you got your own shit to deal with," he said finally, voice breaking. “I don't want to be the person that add to that"

You blinked, stunned. That wasn’t what you expected to hear, not from Quinn, the most steady man you've ever met. He felt like he couldn't come to you with this stuff?

"So you just shut me out?" you whispered

He only nodded 

“Don't do that don't shut me out right now Quinn” You told him “We are married for fucks sakes and you think you cant come to me with your problems?”

You shook your head and walked across the kitchen to look him in the eyes. “I don't care if what you have to tell me is a complaint or you're just talking about your day. You Have to tell me these things, if you want this marriage to work.”

"I’m sorry," he whispered, voice rough. "I’m so goddamn sorry."

You shook your head, grabbing the front of his hoodie, to pull him into a hug. His body seemed to relax for the first time since you both had been arguing.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he let go you would disappear

"I don't want to lose you over me being stupid," he mumbled into your hair. His voice cracking slightly 

"You’re not going to," you whispered back. "But you have to let me in, Quinn."

“I love you.”

[thefirstknife]

Alright, so some parts of the community puzzle were solved and a website was revealed. Aion-archive. The puzzle isn't over but there's stuff to do on the website with some cool info and teasers. The rest of the puzzle is so far in the process of people inputting a million codes and figuring things out which I don't really understand and I'm only interested in the end lore results so I'll talk about what we can read so far.

First of all, Aion was mentioned in Vesper's Host as "The Aion Initiative" during the secret quest with the collectibles:

Vesper Station: I’ve got the archive of Dr. Bray’s published staff memos. Petabytes of data in the raw files. Rasputin. The Stoneworm protocols. The Aion Initiative. Soteria. I had siblings this whole time. And you never let me know.

Unclear how this connects to anything, but it was definitely some sort of project back in the Golden Age.

Playing around on the site can let you access a home button and then it lists some options to go through:

I'll put the rest under read more so people can play around by themselves without spoilers if they want and for length:

First of all, the missing numbers that are listed as alerts? You can still input them. So even though it says that 002, 004, 005, and 006 are missing, you can still select them and they give information. I'll drop all of them here and do some commentary because this is enrichment.

Input 001:

Very interesting! So "Aion" stands for "Apollo Intertemporal Observation Network," investigating time dilation and temporal anomalies that go beyond simple light-speed issues. I'm absolutely losing it immediately because this is incredibly cool in so many ways. The possibility that The Edge of Fate will involve some time travel shenanigans is exciting. Hoping for more Vex stuff for sure!

Input 002:

Obsessed. This is definitely why the whole thing was codenamed "Apollo" originally and some of our speculation about it was actually correct. Apollo, god of prophecy! Fascinated by the fact that this one aspect of Apollo was chosen as first description of him. Like, yeah, that part was incredibly important but Apollo was a god of many things. Either way, hello, I am going to be on the news.

Input 003:

Stuff about chess, which is interesting because this is how we got to the website in the first place. I feel like we're playing chess with some entity beyond our comprehension that deals with time travel. What even is going on in Destiny.

Input 004:

Not sure why this is mentioned, but it may have something to do with a later input. The Oort Cloud is a real thing (or at least a real theorised thing).

Input 005:

Unclear what this connects to at the moment.

Input 006:

Also unclear. "There is a place" is the same starter as the sentence in input 001: "There is a place where the numbers don't match." Referring to the temporal anomalies. I assume that's the same sentence?

Input 007:

Unclear. Some of this stuff might get fully cleared up once the puzzle is completed and these gaps are filled. If they are going to be filled at all. We're not sure what the end of the puzzle will do actually.

Input 008:

Interesting! This might explain the mention of the Oort Cloud? Trans-Neptunian objects are, also, a real thing and they exist in the space beyond Neptune from the Kuiper's Belt to the Oort Cloud. This text makes me also think of Nessus which is a similar object called a centaur that originally should've existed also around and beyond Neptune, but something messed with its orbit (presumably the Vex) and it was on collision course with the Exodus Black.

It's not unusual to consider a massive planetary object somewhere far out there that might be affecting the gravity and orbit of smaller objects, but it's interesting that this is a part of this whole text. Is the implication that we'll be discovering an unknown planet in the far reaches of the solar system? Bizarre because the teaser implied we're leaving the system entirely ("Kepler 15"), but also with the implied time travel shenanigans... who the hell knows. What are they cooking.

Input 009:

Unclear. No clue what this may be referring to. Hoping for more information as the puzzle gets closer to solving.

Input 010:

Also unclear. I assume that the red text is saying something along the line of "We made a mistake". Way too many gaps to know currently.

Input 011:

Interesting! The first bit lists actual dates. 29th April 2025 (Signal confirmation) is when the puzzle started this Tuesday reset. 4th May 1991 (listed as "odd") is the date of when Bungie was founded. 9th September 2014 obviously when Destiny released. One more is down there but without the year so if anyone wants to hunt down what happened on the 12th of April in any year in human history... have fun.

The second set lists a few things that can also be input into the computer. So 11101 etc. can be searched. Here's what they give:

And finally:

This bit is where the rest of the puzzle is currently happening, still with the in-game chess board if I understand correctly. People are inputting these codes which are codes you get from the chess board and then there's something going on with QR codes?? Which gives people some sort of string of letters to input into the computer and then they're compiling what works and what doesn't. This bit is unclear to me but it's also stuff that doesn't give any direct lore. I assume this all has to be sorted for the entire database to work properly and show all text.

And this is the last input, 012:

Not much to say here, lots of stuff still missing.

Exciting stuff going on! I love community puzzles and weird shenanigans going on and it's such a cool teaser for the showcase next week and the reveal about The Edge of Fate. Can't wait to see what all of this is about, especially if we're legit going to be having some time travel stuff and weird Golden Age projects and possibly going out of the solar system.

[suzukiblu]

The past question asker does have a good point... it raises some questions for me, cause I think we've figured out that Kon in your aus would fuck a clone of himself, kinda assuming if he met a friendly alternate dimension version of himself he'd be down for that too, but what about Tim? Would Tim be interested in that?

tbh the sole reason I can imagine Tim looking at a clone of himself and thinking literally anything about sex would be his insane-person version of logic immediately having him like "hey there, morals-yet-to-be-determined clone, nice to meet you, wanna help me have sex with my other two teammates and THEIR morals-very-thoroughly-determined clones now that I can show up with a good excuse to pitch the idea?"

clone!Tim: Sorry, that's your idea of a GOOD excuse?

Tim: If it might get me in bed with four people with superhuman stamina and palette swaps of two of the most attractive physical forms that I have personally encountered in my life? Yes.

Cassie, five feet away in this ethically-dubious lab with her head in her hands: jfc Robin why are you like this. If you actually sell Superboy and Impulse on that idea I am NOT saving you three from your evil clones.

clone!Tim: Sorry, I realize I'm new to being a conscious lifeform and all, but you think I'M the evil one?

Cassie: . . . you have a point and your point is concerningly valid.

Tim: I would more consider myself "neutral good", honestly.

clone!Tim: Bitch I am five minutes old and I already know you are the most true neutral motherfucker in this entire ethically-dubious lab. Now gimme your elevator pitch so I can figure out your chances of scoring this, and also do you wanna mix up another Wonder Girl while you're explaining? I feel like another Wonder Girl would help your chances here.

Cassie: WTF WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO

Tim, no longer the only person alive who thinks like himself, officially living his best life: Did we just become best friends? :)

[seventhconsumedsigil]

The following is a record of the infamous Speech of Defiance by the heretic wizard known as Ao, formerly proscribed by the Tower under penalty of immediate execution, indisputably the pivotal point between the Age of Hierarchy and the Age of Madness. This copy is kindly produced by now-Archmage Vath, who was in attendance at the time as the scribe and only other direct witness, and so could make this copy after that proscription became dead law.

Archmage Telluric - We meet here today to discuss the "alleged" heresies of Mage Ao, who stands before us. Under my powers as Archmage, I shall sit in judgement over this case, and serve as executioner when it concludes. Apprentice Vath holds position as Scribe and will ensure the transmission is clear and properly archived. The courtroom is sealed against any trickery your fetid allies might pull, so don't-

Mage Ao - Oh do shut up, you withered old windbag. We all know why we're here, and we all know what's going to happen. Stuff the formality.

Telluric - [A lot of spluttering that I don't see the point in writing down. Heretic, lich, blasphemer, none of it really coherently strung together into a sentence. He did heat the air a by 20 degrees through the whole chamber while doing it though, which was an impressive display of unchanneled power if not for how uncomfortable it made my seat. This isn't helped by the subsequent effort of will Ao made. It would take us months to work out what he had done, but at the time it felt like being suffocated by very soft pillows. An uncomfortable combination, let me tell you]

Ao - Sweet silence. Ah, that's better. What, surprised that I can do that without you opposing it? Because I'm not effecting you, Archmage. The air around you, that's another matter.

[This was patently ridiculous, as effecting non-discrete objects like that should have required a ritual circle to manage the definition by common understanding. I know this sounds horribly archaic now, but magic was a lot rougher back then. For example, the wards sealing the courtroom were on a hard-set timer of 1/23rd of a solar cycle and would not budge unless blasted down before that time. Appreciate how we can do things in non-prime numbers nowadays.]

Ao- Now, I don't much care for defending myself to the likes of you all, but let me get a few things straight, since if I'm going to be condemned I want it to be accurate. Lichdom, the act of binding one's dead and dormant soul back into the body, has a few important differences. It loses the ability to naturally grow, leaving consumption the only viable path for increased magical potential, but more importantly it deforms the soul through shear forces. It tears at it, opening holes that cannot be healed without more raw material, leading to the legendary soul-thirst. What I have done is much simpler and far, far stupider, despite the fact it works! I just filled in my skull with raw magic and let my soul press against that to induce cognition instead, at least where the scraps that used to be my brain were. That causes stress, yes, but compressive stress. My soul is a mass of calluses and grows so slowly I'll probably reach Archmage level potential... approximately never, or at least an order of magnitude late, but there are upsides. You would not believe how badly optimised that sack of fat in your skull is. We've spent over ten thousand years killing anything that strays from the nice safe bounds of known magic, and arguably for good reason in some cases, but the rest... no, you've all been sat on your thrones for too long, got too comfortable with being right in the ways we teach even the dumbest apprentice not to be, before the immortality abrades their common sense away. And here I am rambling almost as bad as you are, in front of such an audience. Terrible habit, spent too long lecturing and not enough fighting. Well, I suppose a little class demonstration to end it off is due then. Watch closely, oh Archmage, and consider this. If I can run on a substrate of magic, why should I remain constrained to one piece of meat?

[At this point, Ao proceeded to fall over stone dead, in what was shockingly actually his plan. The autopsy revealed that was in fact his body, but the first sighting of one of his crystal spiders a week afterwards confirmed that he was in fact perfectly alive and had figured out body-transference a whole month before, and it was almost safe when he used it. The Hivemind of Ao would go on to become, as Ao liked to style himself, A Big Damn Problem. They still called him a lich for the next sixteen years though, and I have it on the best of authority it drove him demented that entire time.]

When a mage is badly injured, magic sometimes "fills in the gaps"—growing an arcane hand or leg. You suffered brain damage that would have killed most. Magic filled in your mind.

[stalemidnight]

CRUSH

Billie x fem!reader

A/n: Been listening to this song on a loop recently. Not sure how this came out, probably sucks.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, I think that's it.

I might have a lot of sex/But I haven't made love in years

“What do you want, Eilish?” you sip casually from your mixed drink. The music at the after party is loud and thumping but mixes perfectly with the warm buzz in your brain. It’s your third drink of the night -your limit, especially at events like this- and after this you’ll just stick to water.

The raven-haired girl with sapphire eyes bites the corner of her bottom lip, fighting a grin that couldn’t be more obvious. You knew who she was before she approached you  - Billie Eilish, one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. She knows you as well – after all you, you did just win your first Grammy earlier that evening.

The conversation between the two of you was smooth enough, but while you were still relatively fresh-faced in industry the bright-eyed woman standing before was well established…and developed something of a reputation – one you were acutely aware of before ever meeting face to face.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” she shoots back with an easy smirk.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you subtly roll your shoulders, taking another sip. “I’m enjoying the conversation, but I’m not looking to hook up if that’s your angle.”

she says 'what do you want?/Calls me a player 'cause I wanna take her home

Billie was taken aback. She was well aware of her reputation as well as she should be – she didn’t put in that much work to maintain it for nothing. It was just – this was the first time anyone called her out to her face, let alone a girl she was already fantasizing about in her head.

“Why do you think that’s all I want?”

“Isn’t it?”

Billie swallows. Was it?  A part of her wants to say ‘obviously, yes’. You’re drop dead gorgeous – the very picture of a punk rock princess who maintains a defined edge even when dressed to the nines. Another part of her, instead, wants to say ‘no, of course not’ because if she was being even the slightest bit honest that was closer to the truth.

Okay what’s the play, Eilish?

She takes steady breath.

Here goes nothing.

“No.”

Brilliant…

“Then what do you want with me?”

Before Billie could reply her attention was pulled to a pretty blonde with ruby red lips singing out her name in a drunk whine. Billie flinches at the sound, cursing the timing of it under her breath.

I think I've developed a crush/This time I think that I'm feeling the rush now

“There you are!” the blonde grins. “I was lookin’ everywhere for ya.”

“Oh, hey…”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement but don’t say anything as you continue to nurse your drink.

“Who’s your friend?”

Billie’s ocean blue eyes cut back and forth between you and the blonde. You can’t help but notice something vulnerable in the way she couldn’t seem to focus on either of you, the nervous energy swelling in her eyes.

Billie quickly stammers out your name and the blonde’s face lights up.

“Ohh! You won Best New Artist! Congrats. I love your band’s album.”

You smile sheepishly and bow your head a little before replying “Thanks, that means a lot.”

Billie’s heart skips eight beats at once as your reaction.

God, she’s so fuckin’ cute when she’s flustered.

Billie wants to continue her conversation with you, wants to convince you she doesn’t see you as just a potential hookup. She desperately wants to ask you out on a date. Like, an actual date with flowers and dinner and hand-holding – all from one conversation, however brief.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” you raise your glass and shrug with a friendly smile as the blonde takes Billie’s hand in hers and tugs her towards the other side of the room.

“C’mon, Bills, you said we could leave early and it’s still early…!”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Billie agrees in a low voice. As she escorts the blonde -her date- towards the exit Billie can’t help but steal glances back at you, hoping to make eye contact one last time.

Unfortunately, your attention is already pulled elsewhere by one of your bandmates. Billie’s stomach flips at the way your face lights up from laughing at something your bandmate tells you. I wanna make her laugh like that.

Billie gives up hoping you’ll look her way one more time as she exits the after party. She doesn’t see the way your gaze lingers on the door as she steps through it, missing the longing in your eyes as you watch her leave.

When I'm not there is she thinking of me?

[biblioaddict]

The Many Mysteries of Kim Soleum

(Well actually I'm only writing down the three main ones that stick out to me the most but shh)

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS 192+

1. His family

Let's take a moment to put ourselves in Soleum's shoes: imagine being transported to a world where eldritch, ungodly horrors are real, where everyone dies faster than your phone battery does when you actually need it, where contact of your friends somehow still remain, but your family, who - according to the fact that you mentioned somewhere in the novel that they've warned you against entering finance - you should still have contact with in your world, is apparently wiped out, wouldn't you at least take a moment to find out what's happened to them? Or at least mention that fact beyond a single, quickly brushed-off sentence in the beginning, even if you're (maybe) trying not to think about it?

There's no way a guy like Soleum wouldn't pay attention to these things just because this isn't the 'real' world and they're not his 'real' parents. He still tries to save everyone he can even though they're just 'characters' after all. Nor would he be the type to disregard them even if they have a bad relationship with him (see: all the times he's (sometimes however unwillingly) saved Baek Saheon).

Yet, for some reason, he does. He has no reaction to their disappearance at all. He was more concerned about not having a house - and this is the guy who's sentimental as hell.

2. His strength

Bro, you are not telling me that some random office worker, who probably hasn't lifted anything but the weight of his own body to get up for another miserable day at work, can lift a grown ass man like Baek Saheon, push away a manhole cover, and subdue an incredibly trained close combat agent with the agent unable to overpower him through physical force.

Even if Soleum worked out Choi should be able to beat him easily. But it's not just that. He never, ever mentions any form of physical activity to be a hobby of his. Nor does he does he mention doing anything to maintain his physique. Sure, you could argue that running around in ghost stories is a form of exercise in and of itself (Soleum would very much agree) but then that brings us back to point one: where would a supposedly normal guy get this kind of strength?

3. His status in the Dark Exploration Records wiki and his ghost story

Here's what we know so far:

• Based on how kse's contributed to the technical school's exploration record and how he casually mentions wanting to add the way he solved the Red Dress at Exit 4 disaster to the wiki but deciding otherwise because it didn't really fit his style (ch.168), aside from lurking and reading, it seems to imply that he's a frequent contributor to the wiki.

• He also mentions having made a ghost story, but never elaborates on what story it is.

• It seems like the way you submit or edit a darkness operates in nearly the same vein as submitting an SCP in the SCP wiki does, so he'd have to be greenlit by two experienced authors before he could've gotten his ghost story published.

From this, I think it's safe to infer that Soleum might be a known, if not prominent figure as a wiki user.

What's the ghost story that he wrote, exactly? Like his parents, it's something he quickly brushes off and never really mentions, if I remember correctly, beyond chapter 1. This one can be easily answered though: maybe kse's trying not to think about it because this ghost story he made is suddenly very much real and he now has blood on his hands because of it. But, as with everything in this novel, there's that itching feeling that there must be a special reason why.

[drdtfuitgumies]

Hama should empower Arei with the power of hell and make her an immortal demon spawn. The girl's gone mad with power

tetro pink fools 2025 has officially ended!

arei gets renewed by the power of hell. thank you for the request! and with that, tetro pink fools 2025 is officially over... but i officially declare tetro pink requests involving drdt characters can still be sent! yapping (statistics + what could have beens) under cut

if the dt cast are my tormented homunculi, the tetro pink cast are the cousins i give preferential treatment to. this is still mainly a drdt doodle blog but i got too attached to another fangan cast as a whole so this is the consequence. if you're a drdt fan that hasn't watched tetro pink, Watch Tetro Pink. if you're a tetro pink fan that hasn't watched despair time, Watch Despair Time. if you've watched both, let's hold hands. that is All.

to reiterate. i am now Permanently accepting tetro pink requests in the inbox, as long as they involve at least one drdt character!

thank you so much for indulging me throughout this month!!! i hope you had fun watching me like a hamster on a wheel! i obviously couldn't get to all the requests but i kept track of all of them and there are some real Bangers in here.

amount of requests everyone got as of 30/04/2025. hu ended up getting nothing after all :( i'm more surprised arei and david only got one each though. and i'm also surprised there wasn't a single request asking arei to steal anything from the tetro pink cast, considering that it's Her Thing in this blog, though i might not have done them regardless...

"hiroaki opp requests" are requests that Specify that hiroaki and (drdt character) are fighting/beefing/(insert hostile interaction here). so 13/21 is a scary number, esp since most of the remaining requests are also likely to end in hiroaki and (drdt character) fighting...

here are some Bangers that i couldn't draw but want to show off regardless

i was going to do this one, but i had to scrap it for character distribution balance purposes :( min+hasegawa is a pair i wish i could've actually drawn but min+sasaki were a day 1 lock in and the compromise was letting min yap about clocks with eden and hasegawa

This prompt has one fundamental flaw and it's that the gumies don't have arms. in hindsight i could have just given them arms for this specific situation. whoops!

if the supervillain subplot didn't exist i would have locked this in immediately. i am Hearing you out

sent a bit too late but this is now the context behind hama banishing arturo

also, re: the tags mentioning i had to pair them up like the last kids in gym class; arturo, david, hama, and hasegawa were the last people i had to pair up for the "pair situations". the final pairs ended up being arturo+hama and david+hasegawa, but in an alternate universe it would be "arturo bothering hasegawa as he is a celebrity and thus fits into arturo's beauty metric" and "hama telling david 'he's kind of fucked up, man'". This alternate universe did not come to light because I didn't want to write that brand of Arturo dialogue

If I got this within the first two weeks of April I would have reserved a minimum of four days for a 32-person arm wrestling contest. I would have tossed one person into the nonexistent wall. Anon I sincerely hope you know that.

this one was too good for the blog. you cannot comprehend what this did to me. i would frame this on my wall. if i get back to writing it's because of this. thank you SO MUCH anon i would have never made the connection

[kittykatkatelol]

answering all these now for the sillies

🌕 - we needed a placeholder name, so we did a play on the name Fault in Our Stars, but instead it's Fallout in Our Stars, since our host is around 4 characters from Fallout and our headmates are all Fallout fictives - the name just kinda stuck lol

🌔 - The closest we have is our Vulpes fictive being a fox therian and our host being a physical nonhuman (a demon)

🌓 - Our host is the one with the unique names with Daímonas, Roxxas, Faraday, Vulpes, and Kellogg - but Vulpes and Arcade have the more unique names if you don't count our host.

🌑 - Not that we are aware of? Very possible, no clue though

⭐️ - I'd say Six tbh, Vulpes might talk a lot, and Nick might be cofronting a lot, but Six is the most properly social

💫 - We celebrate Nick's birthday on Valentine's day, mainly as a joke since he's Nick Valentine, but I don't have a doubt if we figured out someone's birthday or they chose a birthday, we'd celebrate it then, separate from the body's

✨️ - Vulpes.

🔭 - Our Vulpes fictive is our crusifier. Nick is a comforter, but not sure if that's really a non-typical role

🚀 - Not really sure. Vulpes has a huge interest in anything Roman, Arcade has a decent interest in doctoring stuff, not really sure what everyone else's big interests are, but I wouldn't say either of those is wildly out there, since our host is really into doctoring stuff and half the system is from the Legion and by proxy has an interest in Roman stuff (though Vulpes is the only one truly invested)

☄️ - Nope. Only our host is alt - a mix of emo and scene

🌍 - No. Maybe someday, but as I said before, we are all from Fallout - a few of us are from Fallout New Vegas, a few of us are from Fallout 4

🪐 - Our youngest is 8, Lupa, and our oldest is probably Nick. We don't know how old he is, I don't think he knows himself, but he was built by the Institute before anyone else was born (or if we have the dates wrong, which is entirely possible, he still is easily the oldest), so probably him.

🌙 - the morals of slavery. no i will not be elaborating

👽 - Vulpes likes talking about slavery - it's because of his source and his morals, we don't question it, just keep him from saying it through the body - so we get some really wild out of context quotes were all from him, most notable is probably "see, this is why child slavery is good, keeps them quiet and compliant" or smth like that, it's been a bit since he said that. Also, yesterday our Courier Six fictive, "wow, Jesus sure had a thing for feet. And this pastor. Why does everyone here have a foot fetish" (context, we were at church, and they were talking about jesus washing feet)

🌌 - Not that I'm aware of. Lupa might every now and then play a small "prank", usually just hiding someone's things for a few minutes or something just as small and minor that's just kinda inconvenient, no one really cares though just her being a kid and having some fairly innocent fun

🌠 - Our host is front stuck, I believe. He rarely, if ever, leaves front fully, so we don't really know. We only co-front

🛰 - Usually Nick tells me when someone new has formed. Before I realized we were plural, I randomly would hear Vulpes yelling about something. He is very loud, and he is still my way of confirming we are still plural most of the time

🌝 - Vulpes bought a fox tail, he is the only one who really has made a purchase

System Ask Game

🌕 - If Your System Has A Name, What Is The Story Behind It?

🌔 - Do you Have Any Nonhuman Or Human Adjacent Headmates? Any That Are A Unique/Non-Typical Species?

🌓 - What Is The Most Unique Name A Headmate In Your System Has?

🌑- Does Anyone In Your System Have Food Preferences That Differ Greatly From Others In Your System?

⭐️ - Who Is The Most Social?

💫 - Does Anyone Celebrate A Birthday Different From The Body's Birthday?

✨️ - Who Is The "Problem Child" Of Your System? (Not Necessarily In A Negative Way)

🔭 - Anyone With A "Non-Typical" Role?

🚀 - Are There Any Headmates With Wildly Differing Interests From The Rest Of The System?

☄️ - Do You Have Any Alt Headmates? (Emo,Goth,Etc)

🌍 - Do You Have Any Introjects From Obscure Sources? (Not Including Oc-tives)

🪐 - What Is The Age Of Your Oldest Headmate? The Youngest?

🌙 - What Is The Most Ridiculous Thing Your System Has Argued Over?

👽 - The Strangest,Most Off Putting,Or Silliest Thing A Headmate Has Said?

🌌 - Is There A Headmate Who Likes To Play Pranks On The Rest Of The System?

🌠 - Who Is The Most Noticeable When Fronting?

🛰 - What Is The Strangest Way You've Discovered A Headmate?

🌝 - What Is The Strangest Purchase Someone In The System Has Made?

[masoncantthinkofaname]

Hi!! I hope you haven't answered this but how do you feel about time ratios? Like 1 CR hour is 1 week in ur DR that stuff; I feel like there's no good balance because if I want to spend a while in my dr will I come back in the middle of the day while I'm doing something important?

Also, I've seen a lot of tiktoks about people saying that they can't remember anything from their CR after they come back or that it's super draining. This bothers me because if I shift on a weekend before an exam or test will I forget everything I've learned? This sounds so stupid but please bear with me 😭

Time ratios don't exist! They're made up. Not because you can't script a time to come back to, but because time itself doesn't exist, there's no ''I spent 1 week in my dr so an hour passed in my cr.'' There's just the intention that, when you spent a certain amount of time in your dr, you want a corresponding amount of time to have passed in your cr. Which can really be anything!

Personally I basically always shift (back) to the exact moment I left. You can shift back to the past, future. No need to worry yourself about time ratios, you will come back to the exact moment you want to come back to.

You won't forget anything when you come back, nor will you be drained unless you believe you will be. Shifting isn't a mental or physical action, it doesn't take any energy. The only thing is that, especially if you shift for a long time, you might be a little overwhelmed with all the memories when coming back. For me personally it often takes a couple of minutes or hours to completely adjust again. But that's also because I often shift for years at a time.

You can always intend you won't have any issues, and you won't! It's your experience, it's completely customisable. You will remember everything from your cr once you're back here, I can guarantee you that.