#because there is a lot of potential for angst

[dailypj]

(Assuming that you’ve already put some thought into characterizing PJ, tho feel free to ignore this if not! I’m just trying to scope out how to potentially write PaperJam’s character into a fic, since him being sort of a skeptic could mean that he wins the idgaf war too well and has no impact on the central plot yknow)

Do you have ideas for any fun internal conflicts or character arcs for PJ? If there’s a multiverse-threatening conflict unfolding, what would PJ be doing about it, if anything? What mcguffins or circumstances could be triggered that would quickly pique PJ’s interest enough to get involved?

As always my first piece of advice for writing anything pj is to go through the resources provided by his creator, @7goodangel (@-ing in case you wanna put in ur 2 cents, he is ur guy)

Here are the links for:

Pj’s bio

Pj info tag

Pj faq page (bit of a shortcut for the info tag since it holds answers to a lot of previously asked questions, tho not all of them)

now for an actual answer, there's a long ramble under the cut, enjoy

first thing that ik for sure is canon, pj would step in if it's necessary to protect his family (I believe it was a comment somewhere by 7 that stated that pj would go as far as suffocating someone for threatening his kid's life)

if the multiverse being in danger has the capacity to hurt his loved ones I'm sure he'd do something about it, but I think the lengths he's willing to go will vary depending on what/who is causing it and which other characters are joining the fight

Ink for example is definitely an interesting ally considering their past. a conflict between them is pretty much inevitable, especially if you take from canon and had them separated years prior

Now if pj’s loved ones aren't present here, that’s where my guesses on how she’d act get fuzzy. In the past, pj took it upon herself to judge whether certain aus should stay alive or be erased. She believed that what error did was wrong not because it was a massacre of innocents, but because he did it too indiscriminately

(I’d say it was pretty easy to gain a dehumanizing view of others when the 2 biggest influences she had referred to the masses as just fictional characters or anomalies…)

Now, she does indeed spare aus she deems acceptable, but I’m not sure how much she’s willing to risk for them. Cuz like, part of her self-given job is motivated by the want to prove she isn’t a mistake to the man who wants every universe to die

Basically she’s got some pretty dark grey morals and it’s fun to deconstruct them (or make them worse if you wanna go the antagonist pj route, equally fun imo)

now a more headcanon-y idea (aka the trait I tend to exaggerate in nearly every pj varient I've made thus far for angst purposes) is leaning into the whole "I have to be useful to be worthy of anyone's care" thing, and just strongly wanting to disprove bad assumptions/expectations about herself (especially the mistake thing) which couldd lead to her going down a phase of believing she should follow in ink's protector footsteps to try and become more of a priority in his eyes (with the added bonus of keeping fears other characters may have about her "becoming like error" at bay)

does it work? idk but maybe if she just obsesses over it even more the identity crisis will be worth it Slash J

so ya that's my 2 cents on a potential conflict based on canon stuff, absolutely feel free to go ham on whatever direction you feel like taking pj I'm just a big advocate for "learn the rules before you break them" 👍✨

[edwardhartenjoyer]

Would You Love Me Enough To Kill

As the date of your curse taking over you draws closer, but you can't help but think of the grim outcomes that await you. Being taken in by Darkwick to be experimented on, or even hurting someone you love. You think of something, and you know it's unfair to ask for it, but, well, if there's anyone you trust to do this for you, it's your boyfriend. You just hope he'll be willing to help with your last wish, if it comes to it...

Featuring: Tohma | Taiga | Jiro

Warnings: angst, mentions of death

Tohma Ishibashi - You chewed your lip nervously as you made your way down to the vaults of Frostheim in search of your boyfriend. You could have texted him to come meet you, but you wanted the extra time to think on what you were about to ask him for.

When you reached the vault and peered inside, you saw he was there, his back turned to you. You didn't have to do this, you could just turn around and go home and never bring this up.

"Are you going to come in, my dear, or just keep staring at me?" Tohma called, not even sparing a glance your way. Damn he was too good at knowing everything.

You slowly entered the room as he finally turned to look at you. He must have read the expression on your face as he stepped over to you and offered up himself for a hug. You gladly took the offer and wrapped your arms around him.

"Care to tell me what's wrong?" He asked gently.

"I've been thinking a lot about my curse and what it could mean for me if it takes over. I know everyone is still looking for the cure, but I want to ask you for a favor. One final thing you can do for me if the curse takes over me."

"What would that be?"

"Kill me. Don't let me become a monster." You couldn't meet his gaze, and his silence after your admission seemed to stretch out. Just as you were starting to panic, he tightened his grip on you.

"If that is your request, then I shall fulfill it. But know that I will never let it come to that."

Taiga Hoshibami - You hesitated outside the door to Taiga's bedroom. This wasn't your usual, is he going to try shooting me, hesitation. This one was because you had a serious question you needed to ask him, and you were nervous about how to go about it.

Finally, you raised your fist and knocked on the door. "Taiga, it's me. I'm coming in, ok?" You called, giving it a moment before slipping into the room.

Once you entered, you were greeted by the sight of your boyfriend lying on his back on his bed, his head hanging off as he looked at you.

"Hey Kitty Cat, what brings you by."

"Tai? Can I ask you a serious question?" You asked, walking over to sit on the edge of his bed, not daring to look at him.

You hear him snort out a laugh "The fuck you need my permission for?"

"I've been thinking about my curse and how we're down to two months left and no sign of a cure. I don't want to become a monester." You took a shakey breath. The bed shifted as Taiga moved, but you stared at the floor, not wanting to look at him until you were done. "If, if we can't find a cure, can you promise me something?" You whispered. He was silent, so you carried on. "Kill me, don't let me hurt anyone. Don't let me be a monster."

A hand grabbed you by under the chin and turned your head, making you lock your gaze with Taiga's, his face suddenly right next to yours.

"Fuck you on about Kitty Cat, you ain't turning into a monster, not if I have a say in it."

"Just...humor me, please. Maybe it's the least likely outcome. Maybe it doesn't happen, but I just.. I need to know i won't hurt anyone or become an experiment for Darkwick.. Please.." You pleaded.

He narrowed his gaze as he studdied your face. "I promise Kitty. But I ain't gonna have to....not this time.."

Jiro Kirisaki - You nervously paced the floor of your room. Jiro was coming over any minute, and you were trying to work up the nerve to ask him what had been on your mind. You'd been doing a lot of thinking lately, and the grim prospects of your potential future freeightened you. You knew it would be unfair and horrible, but you also knew you didn't want to risk hurting others. Risk becoming that which you feared the most. If you were destined to die, you wanted to go on your own terms.

When Jiro finally arrived in your room, he could tell immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were red from tears and it was clear you'd been trying to cope with panic.

"Are you alright?" He asked immediately, concerned over your health and worried you asked him to come over because you were too unwell to make the walk to Mortkranken yourself.

"I'm okay, but I have something I need to ask you, a final favour if it comes to it." You explained, and he nodded.

"What do you need?"

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. "I've been thinking a lot about my curse and how I have so little time left. I don't want to become a monster, I don't want to hurt anyone. I also don't want to become some experiment for Darkwick. If, if it comes to that, and there's no cure and I start to turn...kill me. I know it's so unfair to ask you but you're the person I trust the most and I-"

"Okay." He agreed. "If that's what you want, I can do that for you." He pulled you into his arms, and tried to understand why it felt like his heart was breaking at your words. He wouldn't let it come to that, he'd make sure he and Yuri found you a cure.

[perry-the-platypus-f1cs]

List of my favourite COD rare pairs because I love yapping on this app.

Bell x Case. MMMMMMmmmmm This is a pairing I NEED to see more of, the angst potential, the fluff potential the beautiful, beautiful brainwashing parallels just tingle my brain. I fell like bell would be sceptical of case at first before reopening up and eventually telling case about his past brainwashing and case being unable to talk about the pantheon just kinds comforts bell in a way that really connects with bell and their both just AUGHHHH

2. Phillip Graves x Soap. Now I know that their enemies BUT I'm talking g about their relationship BEFORE Phillip betrays cause it didn't happen. Totally. anyway I love their pairing because of how well the complement each other in their chattiness I have a feeling they could both just talk and talk,talk,talk to each other for HOURS and that's how they would bond together . Even after Phillip betrayal the trope of lover to enemies stop lovers is just AUGHHHHHHHH

3. Gaz x Ghost. This isn't a ship I see a lot because of the whole Gaz erasure in the fandom and that's a whole other thing. BUT I absolutely love this ship because I can just see Gaz making Ghost a cup of tea in the morning and Just the two of them being fluffy Duffy with each other and Gaz persuading Ghost to get therapy and AUGHHG

[finniestoncrane]

My fave thing to hear is “tell me more about the things you think about” so i made this during a power outage at work lol. Free rein to talk about Connie or any other OCs in yer noggin! Her favorite movie, random plot points, tragic backstories etc etc.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS THE SWEETEST THING!! i'm finally going through my ask box for today and i literally got out of my bed to go back on my computer to talk about connie ;-;

gosh there's so many things i can think of to talk about and yet my brain has gone blank lmaooo i'm going to take your suggestions though!! and i'll read more stuff, because i'm going to add a little nasty commission of connie that i got from my dearly beloved @/worri-wort which is a lil bit cheeky hehe (no nudity, but it's a highly sloppy smooch with george) 💚💚💚

her favourite movie is ghostbusters. she loves horror, but in the eddie x connie canon she either introduces eddie to ghostbusters OR they've both loved it from childhood and both had the same bisexual crisis over egon and janine lol

lately i've been giving her SO MUCH angst, i'm ramping up for potential plotlines in my long fic with her!! obviously it is. the most trope filled and stereotypical angsty love triangle ever, but i'm erring towards... getting some of my own feelings about my body out with her.

i'm veering towards eddie being embarrassed at the idea of a) falling in love with ANYONE and b) not wanting to be seen with someone who isn't conventionally attractive, and george talking about all the very hot girls he's been with as a way to make her think he's a player but having it backfire completely because she's a little bit of an idiot BUT LO AND BEHOLD who should save her from the misery of hating herself but big beautiful bane who can lift her like she was made of feathers and air and appreciates not having to be as careful with her when he's got his fingers digging into her love handles >:3c

she's going to have. a somewhat tragic backstory. all villains need one. i mean besides being late diagnosed autistic and having to force down a lot of self-confidence issues, she's not got any family (other than alfred u-u)

AND BESIDES CONNIE i've been thinking about finally making a rdr2 oc, definitely a little loner who ends up with micah. i'm gonna give her a leucistic coyote that she raised from a pup because i can do whatever i want forever hehehe 🙂‍↕️

THANK YOU MY LOVE IT WAS SO NICE TO TALK ABOUT CONNIE ;-; here's a reward (or a punishment) for anyone who got this far!! again, the line art, the pose, the dialogue, the composition are all by the wonderful terri, and i got to spend an inordinate amount of time colouring it in and gazing at it in complete awe khjjhkjashd

[xxfaithlynxx]

No One's Script

Word Count: 11.4k

Hearts In The Static

⚠️Have tissues nearby! ⚠️❤️

A lot of emotional turmoil....

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Isekai, OC insert, Polyamory / Polyamorous Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Chronic Illness, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, body image issues, Unreliable Narration, Protective Male Characters, rivals to lovers (sort of), past trauma, Everyone Loves Her But She Doesn’t Know Why, Heavy Angst, Fix-It Fic (but of the soul) Mental Health Themes (Depression, ADHD, pcos, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), Suicidal ideation (past), Self-Harm Mention (Non-Graphic Flashback), Emotional Abuse (Referenced past) - Freeform, Body Dysmorphia, Trauma Recovery, Discussion of Medical Symptoms, feelings of worthlessness, Slow Healing & Difficult Conversations, themes of death, Survival, and identity

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

Chapter 13:

The silence was no longer a comfort.

It throbbed now, vibrating under my skin like pressure building behind a dam, desperate to break free. My chest ached. My palms had begun to sweat. The quiet was too loud — too real.

It wasn’t just them . Not anymore.

It was the scan. The glitch. The readings.

A singular potential. An unknown Evol. A spectrum I didn’t choose.

I didn’t choose any of this.

And now I was affecting their world. Causing fluctuations. Disrupting metaflux.

Becoming a mirror for things I didn’t understand and couldn’t control.

My heart slammed against my ribs, a sharp pang of panic unfurling like cold fire in my lungs. If I broke something here — if I hurt someone…

My mind flashed back to the song. That song. From Destiny Café. From my world.

“Won’t Let Go.” By Fivefold.

A song that never existed here. A song that shouldn't have crossed the veil between worlds.

But it had.

They’d heard it. Rafayel, Xavier and Caleb. Even the twins. That song had bled through with me.

I stood on shaky legs, stumbling toward the piano before my knees gave out again. My fingers grazed the polished edge of the keys like I might burn from the contact, but I sat anyway — because I didn’t know what else to do.

The bench creaked beneath me. I pressed one key. Then another.

It came slowly, not from memory, but from somewhere deeper —the same place that still remembered how to cry even when no tears came.

A chord. Another.

My hands moved without thought. The melody built, low and aching, as if the piano itself understood.

I began to hum, soft and uncertain. After a soft moment of playing, I sang.

“I found the ghost of the past, a memory that last…”

“Seems like yesterday that we had it made…”

I let the music flow through me, its current rippling across my nerves, my skin.

“They say you never know what you have, until it’s gone...”

The lyrics trembled from me in pieces, like they weren’t mine to hold but I needed them anyway.

“These memories keep me wide awake...”

I could feel it as an Evol stirred — not like a storm, but a tide — slipping quietly into the room around me. The air shimmered faintly, warped by sound, touched by emotion. The floor didn’t shake. The walls didn’t tremble.

But something shifted.

Something heard.

“And that’s why we won’t let go, oh no, oh no...”

“All the memories we hold. Oh no, oh no...”

“Teach us how to go on without you...”

“And I swear we won’t let go...”

My voice cracked. My hands trembled. But I kept playing.

“I swear we won’t let go…”

Behind me, soft footsteps.

I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop.

I felt them before I heard them. A presence so familiar it made my chest stutter.

Sylus — first. His energy ran sharp and quiet, always watching. Always calculating.

And beside him… Zayne.

I didn’t have to look to know. The subtle electricity in the air told me. Zayne always brought a change in gravity when he walked into a room — not literal, not like Caleb — but emotional. Like everything in the atmosphere tilted toward him whether you wanted it to or not.

Neither of them said a word. They didn’t have to.

They just listened.

And for a moment, I let myself exist in the music. In the sound that wasn’t supposed to be here, in a room that wasn’t mine, in a life that didn’t belong to me.

Because even if I didn’t understand anything else... This, at least, I could still play.

My voice softened on the last line, barely audible.

“I swear we won’t let go…”

And then it was gone — the words dissolved, leaving only the lingering echo of the piano in the hush that followed.

I didn’t lift my hands.

I couldn’t.

My fingers stayed in motion, slipping gently into the progression again. Slower. Simpler. Just the chords now — as soft as a secret, as steady as breath.

Behind me, I felt it: a weighted silence. Thick and pulsing. Like neither of them dared speak.

So I did.

“I used to play this song back home,” I murmured, not daring to look at either of them. “Over and over. On my phone. In the dark. I knew every word. Every pause.”

The chords shifted under my fingers. Minor to major. Grief to grace.

“I didn’t have much… not then. Not really. But I had music. I had songs that didn’t lie to me. And a piano in my school’s back hall with a broken middle C that no one else touched. That was my escape. Always has been.”

The breath that left me sounded cracked, but the chords didn’t falter.

“I’d come home to silence, or yelling, or nothing at all. And I’d shut my door and put my headphones on, and pretend... just for a while... that I was somewhere else. Somewhere like this.”

I laughed under my breath — but it wasn’t joy. It was disbelief.

“And now I’m here. Actually here. And that song... that damn song followed me.”

The music shifted again. Slower. Like grief whispering through time.

Sylus stepped closer first, his boots silent on the floor, but I heard the soft scrape of his jacket sleeve against his leg. His Evol — subtle and sharp like him — flickered faintly in the atmosphere around him, like static trying not to spark.

Zayne came a moment later, quieter still. But the presence of him hit deeper. The way gravity pulls on water.

I kept playing.

“This was the only thing that ever made sense,” I whispered. “Not the world. Not my body. Not the way people looked at me. But this… this made sense.”

Finally, I glanced over my shoulder.

Sylus' jaw was tight, his dark eyes glossed with something he wasn’t letting spill. His arms were crossed — but it wasn’t to distance himself. It was to hold himself together.

Zayne’s gaze was somewhere between sorrow and awe. He wasn’t blinking much, as if doing so might make me disappear.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them had to.

I turned back to the keys and let the last few chords ring out like closing bells.

I wasn’t sure if I felt better. But I was still here. Still breathing. Still playing.

The silence stretched, but I wasn’t done. Not even close.

My fingers hovered above the keys, still trembling slightly from the adrenaline, from the emotion wrung raw and soaked through every note. I didn’t look back at them. I couldn’t. My voice was already breaking, and if I met their eyes, I was scared I’d fall apart all over again.

“I’ve been so fucking stupid ,” I whispered, the confession small and jagged in my throat. “This whole time… I’ve been looking at you—at all of you—like you were pieces of something I used to hold in the palm of my hand.”

The piano’s final chord hummed gently under my words.

“I treated you like characters. Like constructs in a game I used to fall asleep playing because it made me feel something. Because it was the only thing that didn’t make me feel like nothing. And now…”

I laughed again. It was sharp. Bitter. Almost self-mocking.

“Now I’m here. And you’re real. All of you are real . Not lines of code. Not perfect little fantasy men dropped into my loneliness like a bandage I didn’t deserve. You’re not scripted. You’re people. ”

My hands fell into my lap, clenched.

“And I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to talk to you. I feel like every word out of my mouth is a mistake. Like if I say the wrong thing, I’ll screw this up — I’ll set one of you off, or ruin whatever weird fragile thing I’ve somehow been allowed to build with you.”

I swallowed hard, throat burning. Still no movement behind me. Still no words.

“My life… it’s been dictated by fear. By silence. By people teaching me with every look and every rejection that I wasn’t enough. That I was too loud, or too big, or too much —or not enough of the things I should’ve been. For years I just survived. I didn’t live. ”

I blinked, and my vision blurred.

“And now… now I’m here, and I’m not invisible anymore. And it’s terrifying. Because you’re all showing me kindness I don’t know what to do with. Because I keep waiting for the catch. For the shoe to drop. For the moment one of you tells me I imagined all of this and you don’t actually want me here.”

My voice cracked on that.

“I’m not used to people giving without expecting something back. Without conditions. Without taking a piece of me with them when they leave. And I just—”

I gripped the piano bench with both hands, my knuckles going white.

“I don’t know how to navigate any of this. You’re all trying. You’re being patient. And it’s killing me because I don’t know why. Why me? Why now? Why this?”

The tears I hadn’t meant to cry slipped down, warm trails cutting through the exhaustion on my cheeks.

“I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to lose it. But I don’t know how to hold it either.”

A long silence followed. Not cold. Not empty. But heavy with understanding.

The kind of silence that only came when words weren’t enough.

And behind me, still unmoving, were two men I had admired from afar for over a year — not knowing they were so much more than I ever imagined.

The bench creaked as I leaned forward, hiding the trembling in my arms by curling around the weight in my chest. My hands gripped the edge of the piano like I could anchor myself there — like sound and wood and memory could keep me from slipping under the surface again.

I heard him move first. Zayne.

Not with abruptness. Not like someone who didn’t know how to approach. But with the kind of intentional stillness that betrayed just how deeply he felt every word I’d said.

Boots on marble. Careful. Measured.

He crossed the distance slowly, as if not to spook me. But his presence was undeniable. The low warmth of him rolled in gently, like morning sunlight slipping through a storm-clouded sky.

I didn’t turn. I couldn’t. My eyes burned too much. My breath had started to catch again.

And then, without asking, he crouched beside the bench — not touching me, but close. His knee brushed mine lightly, a point of contact that asked permission before it ever crossed the boundary.

His voice, when it came, was soft. But it cut right through the haze.

“You weren’t stupid, Aven,” he said, his tone lower than I’d ever heard it. “You were trying to survive. You reached for what you had, for what gave you hope. You did what any of us would’ve done if the world we lived in never looked at us like we mattered.”

I blinked fast, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Zayne’s presence felt like a slow exhale I hadn’t been able to take in years. Solid. Real. Deep in ways I’d only dreamed pixels could be.

“You didn’t treat us like constructs,” he went on, his voice steady despite the emotion crackling in the air around him. “You treated us like we were worth something. You cared . That’s more real than half the people I’ve known my whole damn life.”

My breath hitched as a sob clawed at my throat.

“You think we’re perfect? You think we don’t wake up wondering who we really are? Every single one of us has carried memories we can’t explain. Nightmares from places we’ve never been. Voices that whisper names we don’t recognize until we look at you.”

He shifted slightly, one arm moving across the edge of the bench — not to restrain, not to push, just… to be there .

“Since the moment you showed up, Aven… everything’s changed. Yeah, we’re scared. Confused. Hell, I don’t know what the rules are anymore. But I do know this—”

His voice caught. The barest tremor of something more than he could voice.

“—you’re not ruining anything. You’re reminding us what it means to feel. To protect. To care like it’s breathing.”

I turned to him finally, a shattered gasp leaving me. His eyes met mine — hazel green swirled with gold, rimmed in wetness he wouldn’t let fall. But it was there. And so was he .

Zayne Li. The second man to find me in this world. The first to show me that even the fragments of kindness I didn’t think I deserved… might just be mine to hold.

My lip trembled. My voice shook.

“I’m so tired of trying to be the right version of myself,” I whispered. “So tired of thinking I’m going to wreck something every time I speak.”

Zayne leaned in just enough for our foreheads to brush. No more than that. The pressure light. His hand hovered near mine on the bench, his fingertips barely grazing the edge of my knuckles.

“You don’t need to be any version but this one,” he murmured. “Not perfect. Not beautiful. Just you . That’s all we’ve wanted. Even if it takes you time to believe that.”

And then—another presence. Just behind. Just off to the right.

Sylus.

I didn’t hear him approach — typical — but the shift in the air gave him away. His Evol was always there before he was. A subtle tension in the light. A faint current in the space between breath and thought.

He didn’t say anything.

But I felt him. Standing close enough that the warmth of his body curled into the edge of mine. Close enough that I knew if I leaned just back slightly, I’d find him there — waiting, steady, unmoving.

His hand brushed my back. Not a full touch. Just the backs of his fingers, ghosting between my shoulder blades. A grounding touch. The kind that said, you’re not alone without needing to explain why.

And in that quiet moment — flanked by Zayne’s open emotion and Sylus’ unwavering presence — I broke.

The kind of break that wasn’t destruction, but release. The kind that carved a new space inside me where fear had once lived.

I pressed my face into my hands and sobbed like the girl I’d never allowed myself to be — vulnerable, messy, real.

And neither of them moved away.

Zayne’s breath shuddered against my temple. I felt the moment he forced it down, pressed it into silence, swallowed the raw edge of emotion like it wasn’t his to show. But he didn’t move until he knew I wasn’t shaking anymore — not violently, not dangerously. Just soft now. Fragile. Open.

And then, carefully, he shifted away.

His warmth disappeared, retreating like tidewater. He moved around to the other side of the piano, turning slightly from me — his hands in his pockets, head bowed just enough that I couldn’t see his eyes. I didn’t need to. I could feel the weight he was carrying in his silence. The ache he wouldn’t let fall in front of me.

And in his place, I felt someone else move closer.

Bigger.

Heavier in the air, in the world.

Sylus.

He didn’t ask. He just lowered himself beside me on the bench, the piano creaking under the change in weight. His thigh brushed mine — not deliberately, not forcefully, just... there. Warm. Real. His arm rested along the back of the bench, the way someone might stretch if they weren’t trying to get close. But this wasn’t a stretch. It was a presence.

He didn’t look at me right away.

Instead, his hand reached for the keys.

The first chord was slow, unpolished — the rhythm uneven, like he wasn’t sure his fingers understood the shape of the song. But it was mine . Or… no. Ours now. The same soft melody I’d been playing before, trembling with grief and filled with more silence than sound.

Each note came out like a held breath. Cautious. Deliberate.

And then he spoke — low, quiet, his voice rasped in a way I hadn’t heard before.

“You know… I never really believed in fate.”

His fingers pressed the next chord harder. A little off-beat. Still beautiful.

“I believed in patterns. In systems. In threads we could trace. But fate?” He shook his head. “That was for dreamers. For people who needed an excuse for their pain.”

The melody faltered. He exhaled.

“But then you showed up.”

I turned toward him slowly. Sylus still wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on the keys, his expression carefully guarded — a man made of edges trying not to cut the person sitting closest to him.

“And all the data I thought I had — all the theories, the trajectories, the anomalies I’ve been tracking for years… they fractured the moment I saw you.”

His hand stopped playing.

And then, slowly, he turned toward me.

His eyes — that intense, endless red — searched mine with something just shy of reverence. Something painfully human.

“I don’t know what this means, Aven. Your Evol, your scan, your presence here... none of it matches what’s possible. Your power is not in any of our research. Not in the Sphere. You’re a ghost where a person should be.”

I sucked in a breath, something about his words cutting through me in ways even kindness hadn’t.

“But you’re here ,” he said, voice lower now. Almost like he was confessing it to himself. “You’re real . And you’re not just mirroring this world. You’re affecting it. Changing it. Do you understand what that means?”

I shook my head before I could stop myself.

He leaned in, just slightly, his shoulder pressing more fully into mine. The warmth of him flooded my skin, grounding and heavy and… something more. Something I couldn’t define.

“I’ve watched hundreds of anomalies. I've dissected temporal splits, metaflux disturbances, echo particles, even proto-emotive spikes.” A pause. “But I’ve never seen anything like you.”

I looked down, but his voice chased the silence before it could close in again.

“You think you don’t belong here because your past is loud and your self-worth is quiet. Because someone else once told you you were only good for being hurt, and the echoes of that voice haven’t stopped screaming since.”

His fingers touched the keys again. This time more certain. The melody taking shape between his words.

“But you are here. And you didn’t just arrive — you resonated. You left a fingerprint on our world, Aven. On me .”

My breath caught.

Sylus looked at me now, fully. The weight of that gaze sent shivers straight through my ribs.

“Maybe your Evol doesn’t make sense yet. Maybe it terrifies you. But it matters . And so do you.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat felt wrapped in thorns.

He leaned a little closer. The barest brush of his temple against my hair, his breath warming the side of my face.

“I don’t know if physical touch still means what it did to the Sylus you knew,” he murmured, as if he’d read my thoughts. “But if it does… then let me offer it. Not as a claim. Not as a fix. Just… as a reminder that you’re not alone in this.”

His fingers pressed another chord. The soft echo of the song between us. Rebuilt.

And I — broken as I was — leaned into him.

Not all the way. Not with full trust.

But enough.

The melody continued — smoother now. More intentional.

Sylus’ hands moved with quiet confidence, each note drawing a thread between the ache inside me and the air that held it. It was like he knew how to translate silence into sound. How to take the heavy hush of my grief and turn it into something that could be heard without being spoken.

And as the chords deepened, Zayne turned.

Slow. Hesitant. Like the moment had stripped him raw and he wasn’t sure what was left.

His eyes caught mine — and I forgot how to breathe.

They were rimmed in red. Not from fatigue or irritation, but from the effort of holding something in. Something that had cracked inside him and was only now beginning to bleed through the golden-green of his gaze. The shimmer of tears clung to the edges like he was too proud to let them fall, but not strong enough to pretend they weren’t there.

And gods, it hurt to see him like that.

Because Zayne Li was composed. Controlled. The kind of man who could hold galaxies in his mind and never let the weight of them bend his spine. But here, now—he was just a man. Standing a few feet away from me with his pain worn like a second skin.

“I hate that you think you’re a burden,” he said, quietly. The words weren’t angry. They were wounded . Like he was bleeding on the inside every time I doubted myself.

“I hate that your first instinct is to shrink yourself so you don’t take up space. That you flinch when we care about you, like kindness is just the warning shot before the pain.”

He stepped closer, slow and careful, but with more certainty than before. Like his hesitation had melted beneath the truth that he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Do you know what it did to me,” he continued, his voice rougher now, “to see you on that hospital bed when Xavier brought you in, after finding you under that overpass that day? He told me how he’d seen you from a distance. Alone. Unconscious. Barely breathing. You didn’t exist in our records. There was no trace of you in the city systems, no echo in the Sphere. It was like the universe just— birthed you from nothing.”

His throat worked around a sharp inhale.

“But the second I saw you... I knew. ” His voice cracked then. “I knew you mattered. I didn’t need a scan or a protocol or a government record to tell me that.”

I felt Sylus shift beside me, the chords he played taking on a deeper resonance — like he was echoing Zayne’s words with every stroke of the keys.

Zayne looked at me like I was gravity and light and something he didn’t understand but desperately wanted to.

“You’ve been carrying your world on your back. All that pain, all that doubt. And you think it makes you weak, but it doesn’t. It makes you real . It makes you human .”

His hand lifted slightly, hovering in the space between us — as if asking without asking if he could reach me.

“You’re not a mistake, Aven. You’re not a glitch in our system or a shadow of some prettier girl from another world. You’re you. And that’s already changed everything.”

He blinked, and one of the tears slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He didn’t wipe it away.

Didn’t hide it this time.

Just stood there, golden-green eyes glowing in the low light, every line of him pulled taut with emotion — like if I reached out, he might shatter. Or maybe I would.

Beside us, Sylus kept playing. The notes wrapped around us like warmth in winter, like breath in a void. They held us both as Zayne looked at me like I was the answer to a question he hadn’t dared ask in years.

I stared at him, heart twisting.

Zayne, standing there with a tear running unchecked down his cheek, his hand trembling in the space between us like he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch me. And Sylus beside me, playing the melody I’d breathed into life with my pain — except now, it sounded like comfort. Like grounding. Like home.

And when his voice joined it—soft, low, not quite singing but not quite humming either—I shattered all over again.

He was humming the words I’d sung minutes ago.

"Teach us how to go on without you, and I swear we won't let go… oh no… oh no…"

Gods.

I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to trap the sob before it could rise, but it clawed free anyway — a whimper laced with disbelief, with a thousand buried screams I hadn’t known I was still carrying.

They saw me. They heard me.

And it broke something loose in me I didn’t think I could survive without.

“I don’t… I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” I whispered, my voice cracking like splintered glass. “To deserve either of you. Any of you.”

Zayne shook his head immediately, but I pressed on, my hand still covering my mouth, as if I could hold in everything spilling out.

“I came from a world that taught me to apologize for existing. For taking up space. For having emotions. I learned to keep quiet, to smile when I was bleeding, to give when no one ever gave back. And now…”

I looked between them — Zayne’s eyes bloodshot and full of gold-lit ache, and Sylus’ profile still turned toward the piano, focused on the melody but humming softly like it kept him steady.

“Now you’re here. And you’re real. And you’re treating me like I matter. And I don’t know how to… how to let you. ”

My voice trembled like a heartbeat underwater.

“I keep thinking I’ll mess it up. That I’ll say something wrong, or push too hard, or get too close and you’ll see what everyone else saw — that I’m too much. Or not enough. And then you’ll leave.”

I turned back to Zayne, who hadn’t moved, who looked like he was waiting for permission to breathe again.

“I’m terrified of needing you,” I said, softer now. “Because I think I already do. And I don’t know what that means.”

The music wove between us like a thread — binding, gentle, pulsing like breath.

I finally lowered my hand.

And as I blinked away another tear, I heard it — the faint shuffle of footsteps behind me.

Not rushed. Not loud. Just… deliberate. Familiar.

Xavier.

I turned slightly, and there he was — framed in the doorway, tall and motionless at first, a silhouette against the soft interior light of the music room.

He stepped in slowly, like the air inside had weight and he didn’t want to disturb it. His eyes went to Zayne, then to Sylus, and finally — finally — to me.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

His gaze softened, the coolness always carved into his features melting just enough for warmth to rise at the edges.

He approached with the silence of someone used to observing, but his hands were visible — open, relaxed, not guarded. And when he reached us, he stopped just a foot away, like he didn’t want to break the circle forming between us.

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure I could.

The moment felt impossibly delicate — like if I breathed too hard, it might slip away.

But then Xavier did something that made my throat close up all over again.

He crouched in front of me.

Not far. Just close enough that his knees brushed mine, and his silver flecked—deep blue gaze was level with my eyes.

And with that quiet intensity only Xavier could command, he whispered, “You’re not alone, Aven.”

My breath hitched.

“Not anymore,” he added.

Behind me, Sylus kept playing.

And the song… It no longer sounded like loss.

It sounded like the beginning of something I never thought I’d be allowed to have.

For a moment, all I could do was breathe .

Heavy, uneven, shuddering. Like I was learning how all over again, with each of them holding pieces of me I’d never meant to hand over.

Sylus kept playing — soft, sure now. The same tune I’d poured out of my own fingertips earlier, when the grief had felt too large to carry in silence. But now, the song sounded different. Not because the melody had changed, but because I had.

Because I wasn’t alone anymore.

My hand moved before my thoughts caught up — slow, trembling, as if crossing a threshold too sacred to name. I reached toward Zayne, whose fingers still hovered in that half-space between longing and restraint.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe.

And then our hands touched.

He exhaled like something in him had snapped loose and begun to float.

His fingers curled around mine instinctively — warm, steady, shaking just slightly — and I held on like he was a lifeline. Because he was . Somehow, impossibly, he was .

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, I leaned sideways.

Not far.

Just enough that my shoulder pressed into Sylus’ side — his frame solid, grounded, the quiet weight of someone who didn’t flinch when the world fell apart around him. His music didn’t pause. If anything, the notes grew warmer. Richer. Like he’d been waiting for me to lean into him all along.

And then—one last gesture.

The last leap.

I tilted forward.

Xavier didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

But the moment my forehead touched his shoulder — soft, brief, trembling with silent apology and reluctant trust — his hand came up to cradle the back of my head. Gentle. Reverent. Like he knew exactly what this meant for me.

I breathed him in — faint cologne and clean air, like stormlight on metal.

And there I was.

Tethered between three men who had undone me with kindness, steadied me with patience, and held me without expectation.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to.

This… this was the answer.

This was mine.

And then—

“Aven?”

The voice came from the hallway — low, concerned, unmistakably Caleb.

Followed immediately by Rafayel’s more frustrated, breathless, “Okay, seriously, where the hell did you guys go ?”

Zayne tensed first, his head tilting back toward the door, but Sylus was the one who answered.

“Music room,” he called, not breaking his rhythm on the piano, his voice almost amused beneath the reverent hush. “You two walked past it. Twice.”

The footsteps stopped just beyond the doorway.

“You’re kidding me,” Raf muttered, voice muffled through the partially open door. “Do you want us to have a collective cardiac event?”

“Honestly?” Caleb’s voice was closer now. “Yeah, I thought you all got abducted. Or Sylus snapped and started running unauthorized psych eval experiments again.”

“ Again ?” Raf’s tone went higher, more indignant.

And then they stepped inside.

First Caleb — tall, built like a storm in waiting, his shaggy brown hair slightly tousled like he’d been dragging his hands through it. His eyes caught mine instantly — violet-orange, too sharp, too focused — and softened in the same breath. He stopped mid-stride, taking in the scene without a word.

Then Rafayel.

All sculpted cheekbones, pink-blue eyes, and loose elegance even when he was exasperated. His expression shifted the moment he saw me — less smug, more curious, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of the stillness wrapped around us.

But he didn’t speak either.

No one did.

Because they saw it.

Me, leaning into Sylus. My hand wrapped in Zayne’s. My forehead resting against Xavier’s shoulder. A constellation of trust in motion.

I pulled back slightly — just enough to sit upright again, not break the moment entirely.

I looked at them both — Caleb and Raf — and gave them the smallest, barest smile I could manage. It didn’t reach my eyes, not yet. But it didn’t need to.

The silence that followed was thick. Not empty—but full. Saturated.

With warmth. With presence. With the echo of all the things we hadn’t said yet, and maybe never thought we would.

I let it linger a little longer, breathed it in. Felt it settle deep beneath my ribs where the ache lived, that hollow spot where everything I’d buried from my world still festered in the dark.

Five sets of eyes were on me.

Each of them carrying their own storm.

Sylus, still beside me, fingers now stilled on the piano, his crimson eyes watching like he could feel every fluctuation in my breath.

Zayne, his hand still in mine, his jaw tight, his throat working like he wanted to say something but refused to interrupt me.

Xavier, standing in his quiet strength, patient, unreadable but unwavering.

Caleb, arms now crossed loosely over his chest, leaning against the doorway with eyes too sharp, too knowing, the muscle in his jaw twitching like he already knew what I was about to say but was bracing for the weight of it anyway.

And Rafayel. Ever radiant, always dramatic, but now… still. Watching with something softer, more open, written in the way his brows pinched and his lips pressed together like he didn’t want to smirk for once.

I took one more breath.

Then I let go.

“I knew all of you before I ever got here.”

The words came out soft. Too soft. But no one spoke. No one moved. So I kept going.

“In my world, you were just a game. A story I could carry in my pocket. Something I downloaded when I didn’t have anyone else. When the walls got too quiet. When the silence started sounding like the things I wasn’t saying out loud.”

The tears were already building again, but I didn’t stop.

“Each of you meant something different to me. Sylus… your silence. The way you held the weight of everything without complaint. The way you broke things down and rebuilt them—people included—made me feel like maybe I didn’t need to be perfect to matter. That maybe being broken wasn’t the end.”

I turned to him, my voice tighter now.

“And Zayne… gods. You were logic. Compassion. The kind of strength that doesn’t need to shout to be heard. You kept me grounded. Even when I felt like I was losing my grip on everything. You… you made me feel safe. Even when the world didn’t.”

He didn’t say a word.

He just held my hand a little tighter.

“Xavier,” I whispered, turning toward the man whose silence had always felt like scripture.

“You reminded me that stillness isn’t emptiness. That quiet people carry the most. That I didn’t have to explain myself to be understood. There were days I replayed your cards just to feel like someone saw me… even if it was only through a screen.”

Xavier’s eyes softened. Barely. But I saw it. I felt it.

I looked toward the others, my breath catching again.

“Rafayel. You made the world brighter. You were the light. Even in your arrogance. Especially in your arrogance. You smiled when I couldn’t. You made me laugh when I forgot how. I used to imagine what it would be like to have someone like you in my life—someone who could pull color from shadows.”

Raf looked like he wanted to say something smug. But he didn’t. He just swallowed. Hard.

“And Caleb…”

He straightened. Eyes narrowing, but not in defense. In focus.

“You were my mirror.”

The words hit harder than I meant them to. For both of us.

“You were angry . Guarded. But there was always a part of you that wanted to belong. That wanted to love and be loved without being punished for it. You were the one I understood the most. Because your pain looked like mine. Because you wore it like armor and still got up every day and fought anyway.”

A breath.

A heartbeat.

“I used to look at your faces. Listen to your voices. And think… if you were real, maybe someone like me could be worth something too.”

None of them moved.

Not even a twitch.

And I was crying now. Fully. Quietly. Not the hysterical kind. Not sobbing. Just the kind of tears that fall because you’ve carried them for too long.

“I know this isn’t the game. I know you’re not those versions of yourselves. But… in a way, you still saved me. Because every night I sat alone in my apartment with the world closing in around me, you were there. On my screen. In my headphones. In my dreams.”

My throat burned.

“That night, I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to jump,”

Zayne closed his eyes.

Xavier’s hand flexed at his side.

Caleb took a sharp step forward before catching himself.

“But I’m glad I did,” I whispered. “Because if I hadn’t… I never would’ve landed here. With you.”

The tears kept coming.

“And I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what this Evol means, or what the hell is happening with the Deepspace tunnel, or why I’m bleeding into your world like I was always meant to be part of it…”

I looked at them all — every single one of them.

“But if this… you … is what I found when I fell, then maybe for the first time in my life, falling wasn’t a mistake.”

And then—

I let it break me.

The truth. The grief. The hope.

The silent, shaking surrender of a girl who never thought she’d be allowed to belong.

And the room didn’t collapse.

The world didn’t shatter.

Their eyes didn’t change.

They just listened.

Caleb didn’t rush forward.

He didn’t speak right away either.

But I could see it in his shoulders—the way they rose slowly, like the air in his lungs had thickened under the weight of something ancient. Something unspoken for too long. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling in and out of fists like he was deciding whether or not this was a moment he could allow himself to have.

And then he looked at me.

Not through me. Not around me.

At me.

His eyes, amber and violet, softened—not in pity, but in something raw. Something that stripped him down to the marrow.

“You talk about knowing us from your world…” Caleb said slowly, his voice husky and worn. “You knew our stories. Our smiles. Our pain. How each of us helped you hold on when things got dark.”

He took a step forward. Not aggressive, just grounded—deliberate. Every inch of his movement felt like it cost him something.

“But in this world…” He swallowed, and the tension in his jaw twitched. “No one truly knew mine .”

The room was silent. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

“Do you know what it’s like,” he asked, voice low and bitter with memory, “to be passed around like a fucking burden? File to file. Case to case. A name on a clipboard with a number beside it and no one who looked at you like you were real ?”

Zayne looked away.

Rafayel’s brows drew together, his entire body still.

Sylus… Sylus had stopped breathing.

Even Xavier’s normally unreadable expression broke at the edges.

“I was ten when they first took me in. Eleven when the third placement gave up. And then there was the facility. ”

Caleb’s eyes drifted—somewhere distant, somewhere haunted. “They didn’t call us kids there. We were Subjects. Trials. I was X-02. I didn’t even have a fucking name for six months.”

I pressed a hand to my mouth, shaking.

“They wired our spines. Cut us open like machines. Said we were special. Said pain meant progress. We weren’t people—we were potential .”

His voice cracked.

“And I’d have died there. I was ready to. Until Sylus…”

His eyes flicked to the man still seated beside me. Sylus didn’t move, but I felt the weight of his past press like stone into the silence between them.

“We ran,” Caleb continued. “Together. Into a world that didn’t make room for kids like us. No money. No homes. Just shadows and cold pavement and the ache of being almost forgotten.”

He took another step forward, his voice softening into something near-breakable.

“And I learned how to live like that. Like a ghost. Even after we got out. Even after the worst of it was over. I kept people out. I kept my walls so fucking high that even I didn’t remember what was on the other side.”

My chest felt like it had collapsed inward.

“I didn’t have stories or faces to hold onto. I didn’t have some character in a game in another world reminding me I mattered.”

He looked right at me again.

“But you …”

His voice dropped, deeper now. Not quieter. Just lower . Weighted with something he hadn’t shared with anyone before.

“You looked at me like I was someone worth remembering. Worth reaching for. And I don’t understand why. I don’t think I ever will. But I know that when I woke up next to you this morning, I didn’t feel like a weapon. I didn’t feel like a mistake.”

He was shaking now, not from anger—but from the effort of saying everything he’d never let himself say.

“I didn’t dream. I didn’t flinch. I just breathed. And it scared the hell out of me. Because it felt like peace. And I don’t know what to do with peace.”

He dropped to a knee, eye level with me now. And when he spoke again, his voice fractured like a storm choking on its own thunder.

“If falling into our world gave you to us … then maybe, just maybe, I can believe that something in this fucked-up life actually went right. ”

My lungs stuttered, shattered. Tears filled my eyes again, spilling freely, matching the sting along Zayne’s lashes, the way Sylus leaned ever so slightly closer like he needed to touch me just to know I was still here.

And then Caleb whispered—

“I’m glad you jumped, too.”

I didn’t think.

There was no hesitation. No careful planning. No internal monologue arguing whether it was a good idea or not. I just moved.

One second I was sitting there, shaking, broken open by everything Caleb had poured into the room, and the next I was across the floor, my arms around his shoulders, my body curling around his frame like maybe—just maybe—I could hold some of that pain for him.

He tensed at first.

Like it shocked him that someone wanted to be near him after a confession like that.

But then—

He folded.

It was silent, almost imperceptible at first. Just a tremble through the lines of his body, a single shuddered breath that sounded too hollow, too strangled to be stable. And then his arms came around me, not cautiously but completely , as if something inside him had finally broken open and there was no going back.

His face pressed into the crook of my neck, warm breath ghosting across my skin as a sound escaped him—low and hoarse and broken in half.

He cried.

Not just tears. Not quiet sniffles or the kind of composed sorrow that looked good on camera.

This was grief .

This was weight.

This was a man who had carried so much for so long he no longer recognized what it meant to be held.

His fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt like if he didn’t anchor himself, he might fall right through the floor. His body trembled against mine in slow waves, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. And I held him. I held him. No hesitations. No fear. Just the full-force instinct to be there for someone who had never had anyone.

There was no shame in it.

Only silence.

Sacred and tender.

A kind of stillness that felt like the world had paused to let him be human again.

By the time he finally pulled back, there were tear tracks on his cheeks, flushed skin beneath his eyes, and a tension in his jaw that looked like he was trying to pull himself back together before anyone else could see too much.

But I didn’t let go of him.

And he didn’t let go of me.

We stayed that way, suspended in something delicate and necessary, until—

“Well, shit. Now I’m the only one who hasn’t had an emotional breakdown in front of her yet.”

The voice was unmistakable.

Rafayel.

I looked up, half expecting his usual teasing smirk, the familiar slant of mischief in his words—but what I saw instead made my heart stop.

He stood just inside the doorway, arms folded, his weight leaning into one hip like always. But the look in his eyes… it wasn’t smug. It wasn’t flippant.

It was naked.

He gave a crooked smile, soft around the edges, and shrugged.

“I’m serious, you know. I thought I’d come in here, toss a joke, maybe lighten the mood. But then I saw him—” He gestured vaguely toward Caleb. “—and realized I’ve been hiding behind that shit for so long I forgot what it felt like to just say the damn thing.”

He stepped closer, but not all the way in. Like maybe even he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get.

“I’m not good at this stuff. I wasn’t built for it. Emotions, attachments… They were always something that looked better on someone else. Someone softer. Someone not made of thorns and seawater and too much goddamn glitter.”

A small laugh escaped me, unbidden.

He grinned faintly, but it faded too fast.

“But when you said what you did earlier… About how we made you stay , even when you were ready to fall? It hit me, Aven. Right here. ”

He tapped his chest.

“I don’t… I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me. Not like that. Not without asking for something in return either.”

I saw the tightness in his throat. The flicker of something fragile in his brilliant sea-glass eyes.

“So yeah,” he said, voice lower now. “I act like I’ve got it all figured out. Like I’m untouchable. But the truth is…”

His voice cracked, just barely.

“…Every time you look at me like I’m worth something, I feel like I might finally be.”

It wasn’t flashy.

It wasn’t loud.

It was Rafayel, stripped down to the bleeding edges, offering me something no one else ever got to see.

And just like with Caleb, I knew—

This moment mattered.

More than a myth.

More than a memory.

More than any imagined story ever could.

They were all still. Watching me. Not like I was fragile, or broken, or something to be fixed. Just… waiting.

And for once, the storm in my head didn’t scream. It just listened.

I stepped forward—not because I had the words, but because I didn’t. And maybe that was okay.

“I used to think I knew you.”

My voice felt smaller than I wanted it to, but it was honest. I let my eyes drift across each of their faces.

“I thought I knew all your lines. Your histories. The choices you’d make. I memorized your smiles. I chased after your affection like it meant something because—back there—it was the only thing that did. ”

I swallowed hard. “I used to call it comfort. Tapping the screen, getting the answers I craved, the illusion of being seen. But I think… I think I loved you all before I even realized what love was. Not the romantic kind, maybe not yet. But something that felt like safety. Like gravity.”

My eyes burned as I looked at Caleb, then Zayne. “You kept me tethered when I didn’t want to be.”

I glanced down for a second, my voice catching. “You made existing… feel less impossible.”

And then my gaze found Sylus.

“But you’re not scripts,” I said, more quietly. “You’re not here to save me because I tapped the right words. You're not… mine like that. And that terrifies me.”

I paused, breathing through the tightness building in my throat.

“Because now I have to choose to trust you. Not because the game pushed me that way. Not because it’s written. But because you’re real. And I want to.”

I looked at Rafayel and Xavier, both quiet now in their own ways.

“I don’t know how to unlearn the idea that I was never enough in my world. That I was always reaching for people who wouldn’t reach back. You don’t feel like a reward for surviving.”

I took a step closer, not physically touching them yet, but speaking like I was laying something down between us.

“You feel like a beginning.”

Silence wrapped around us—dense, charged, sacred.

And for the first time, I let myself hope that maybe I didn’t have to be the one who gave everything away to feel like I belonged.

Maybe I already did.

Zayne shifted forward, slow and deliberate.

Not hesitant—just measured. Like every word he carried was something fragile, something that might shatter if handled too fast. His eyes, that brilliant swirl of gold and jade, didn’t leave mine for a second.

“I’ve never said this aloud,” he began, his voice low and impossibly steady. “Not to anyone. Not to the others. Not to myself, even. But… something changes in me when I’m near you.”

He looked down, almost like he couldn’t bear to meet my gaze while saying the rest, but then forced himself to hold it anyway. That alone nearly unraveled me.

“You make it feel quieter,” he said softly. “Inside.”

My breath caught.

“I spend most of my life listening to chaos. The endless calculation, the signals, the data—every voice in every room layered behind my thoughts. My Evol doesn’t sleep. It doesn’t stop. The coldness—it’s never been armor. It’s how I cope. It’s how I survive.”

He exhaled, the faintest furrow pinching the space between his brows. “But when I’m with you… it stills.”

He stepped close now, not reaching for me, just… present. Solid and real and impossibly raw.

“Not silenced,” he added, “but softened. Like for once I don’t have to be ten steps ahead of every moment just to stay sane. Like I don’t need to rationalize what I feel when you’re in the room, because what I feel— is already enough. ”

The others didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Even Sylus sat with his hands still on the keys, his dark eyes lowered, listening without interrupting, the resonance of Zayne’s honesty hanging between us like fine-tuned glass.

“I’ve never opened up like this to anyone,” Zayne said, and I could see it now—the barest tremble in his hand, the shimmer of unspoken ache caught in the green of his eyes. “I’ve never needed to.”

A pause.

Then, just above a whisper—

“But I want to, with you.”

And I felt it—that break inside my chest. The small, sharp twist of being seen in a way that was chosen , not assigned. Not demanded.

He wasn’t here because of some path I’d selected in a game. He wasn’t standing in front of me because an algorithm had pushed him toward a romance arc.

He was here because he wanted to be.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

Zayne, so stoic and unreachable to so many, was giving me this piece of himself—his stillness, his ache, his rarest truth—and I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve it.

But I wanted to hold it carefully.

Sylus’s hands lingered on the piano keys long after Zayne’s words settled like ash in the air, but he didn’t play again. The soft, unfinished chords faded into the quiet between us, unresolved.

Then… he stood.

Pushed the bench back with barely a scrape, the movement slow—like every breath between us mattered, like if he moved too fast, it might all collapse. His broad frame cast a shadow as he stepped into the center of the room, not towering, but grounding. Like gravity had shifted its anchor to him.

I watched as he raked one hand through his white hair, eyes burning—dark and storm-slicked. He was always like that, wasn’t he? Beautiful in silence. Sharp at the edges. A living contradiction of restraint and ache.

But now… he was letting the ache rise.

“I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel when I first saw you,” he said, voice low and strained like it cost him to pull each word from the pit of his chest. “Not because you were unfamiliar. But because you felt like something I’d been waiting for—and I hated that.”

My lips parted, but no sound came.

“I hated that I felt anything ,” he went on, his voice cracking like static under pressure. “Because for so long, I’ve been numb. Ever since the facility. Ever since they carved pieces out of me and told me I was a tool. That I was built for control. That my Evol was never mine—it was theirs.”

He wasn’t looking at me as he spoke. He was somewhere else. Some dark hallway in the back of his own mind, where pain still lived in the corners of his memory.

“And then you appeared. Showed up at Akso. Lost. Broken. Real. And I felt something crack open. I didn’t even want it to.”

He finally looked at me.

And it hit me like a blow to the chest.

Because Sylus— Sylus —looked shattered. His eyes glossy, rimmed with grief he hadn’t allowed himself to show until now.

“You terrify me,” he whispered. “Because you remind me of the things I tried to kill inside myself. The softness. The need. The hope.”

He took a step closer. “But you also… remind me I’m still alive.”

His hands trembled at his sides.

“I thought I had buried everything that made me human. Thought I had to, to survive. But then you walked into my life and looked at me like I wasn’t some experiment gone wrong. Like I was worth saving. ”

He stopped just in front of me, and I could feel the energy rolling off of him—his evol simmering under the surface like a heat wave, restrained only by sheer will.

“And now all I want to do is be someone who deserves that look.”

His voice broke.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be that person. But I want to be.”

The silence bloomed.

Dense. Charged. Cracking at the edges like the pressure of stars about to be born.

Sylus lowered his head slightly, his voice no more than a breath against the air between us.

“You make me want to live like I never did before.”

And gods help me, I could feel my heart give out and start again all at once.

Because for a man built of silence and fire and suffering, Sylus Qin had just offered me the most fragile part of himself.

My breath caught in my throat as Sylus stood there — wrecked in his silence, his shoulders trembling from the weight of what he'd said. He looked like a man ready to burn from the inside out and not stop it. All because of me.

He terrified me too, but not because I was afraid of him.

Because I'd never seen someone like him break for someone like me.

And maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was dangerous. But in that moment, I stepped into the fire willingly.

I moved to him.

No hesitation. No overthinking.

Just instinct and need and something soft blooming in my chest I hadn’t felt in years.

My hand reached up to brush his jaw, trembling like the rest of me. His skin was warm. Alive. Human. Not some digital avatar or scripted fantasy, but a man who had given me something raw and impossible to repay — his truth.

“Sylus,” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “I don’t need you to be perfect.”

His eyes fluttered closed, like the words physically struck him.

“I just need you to be real,” I continued, stepping close enough to feel his breath. “And you already are.”

Something in him fractured then — not in a painful way, but in a way that let him exhale for the first time. Like he'd been holding his breath since I arrived. Since before that. He dipped his head, pressing his brow to mine, our foreheads resting together as the air between us pulsed with something silent and sacred.

It wasn’t a kiss.

It was deeper.

A promise that neither of us had the words for yet.

We stayed like that for a moment. One heartbeat. Then two.

Then the sound of a step behind me made us pull apart.

Xavier.

He stood there like a statue carved from dusk — poised, grave, eyes shadowed with something unreadable… until he finally spoke.

“When I saw you that night,” he said, his voice low but steady, “I was prepared to write you off as just another civilian.”

He didn’t move closer. Not yet. His arms were crossed — not defensively, but like he needed something to ground him.

“You were under the overpass. Soaked, shivering. Eyes unfocused. You didn’t say much. And part of me told myself that this wasn’t my problem. That I could do my job, escort you where you needed to go, and forget.”

He looked up at me then, and something in his face cracked open — not all at once, but slowly, like light bleeding into a dark room.

“But your eyes…” he said quietly. “There was something in them. Not fear. Not even desperation.”

A pause.

“It was emptiness. ”

His voice caught, and for Xavier, that was everything.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in this world. I’ve lived through things no one should have to. But I’ve never forgotten what it looked like — that kind of emptiness. I’ve seen it in the mirror.”

His arms dropped to his sides, and he took a step forward.

“I told myself not to care. I told myself you weren’t my responsibility. But I couldn’t walk away. Because for the first time in a very long time… I saw someone who felt like me. ”

His words hit me like a slow, crashing wave. Drowning and cleansing all at once.

“You changed something in me,” he said, voice thick with emotion now. “You made me feel something I thought I buried years ago.”

And then, softly, like a confession—

“You made me hope again.”

He finally reached me, stopping just short of touching. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

But his eyes — dark and warm and full of a quiet kind of grief — said enough.

I didn’t know what to say.

I just felt.

I looked at Xavier — really looked at him.

So still. So serious. So devastatingly open.

There was a quiet strength in him that had always felt unreachable from the other side of the screen — like he’d been carved from ice and fire both. But now, I understood: it wasn’t coldness.

It was grief. Layered. Controlled. Endlessly quiet.

And he’d chosen to let me see it.

My hand reached out — slow, tentative — and I touched his arm. Just above the wrist, where the pulse runs soft and steady beneath the skin.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice so soft it almost disappeared. “For not walking away.”

His breath hitched. Barely. But I felt it.

“I see you too, Xavier,” I added. “And I’m not going anywhere either.”

Something shifted in his expression — a flicker of warmth cracking through the careful walls. He nodded once, a barely-there smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

It was small.

But it was real.

And then—

“Okay, okay, I’m not saying I want to break this extremely moving, soul-baring moment,” came a familiar voice from behind us, “but if we all cry any harder, I’m going to start leaking glitter out of my tear ducts.”

Rafayel.

He stepped closer with that signature saunter, hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming with emotion and mischief — the rare alchemy only he could pull off.

“I mean seriously,” he said, gesturing around the room, “what is this? A tragic reunion special? A dramatic reading of our collective emotional damage? Should I be worried there’s an after-credits scene where we all hug it out in the rain?”

I let out a laugh — short, sudden, raw. It escaped before I could stop it, and maybe that was the point.

The tension cracked like a sheet of glass, not shattering, but releasing.

Even Sylus smiled — just barely — while Zayne shook his head with a tired sigh, like he’d heard this kind of thing a thousand times before and still secretly appreciated it.

Rafayel stepped between us and gave me an exaggerated bow. “Miss Aven, on behalf of this emotionally constipated council of handsome men, I would like to formally thank you for completely wrecking all of us in record time.”

He straightened, flashing a grin before his tone softened, just enough.

“But also… thanks for being here. With us. Still. ”

I blinked, the laughter still caught in my chest.

The ache hadn’t gone. The tears hadn’t dried.

But in that moment — with all of them around me — it didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Not with Rafayel’s levity grounding it. Not with the quiet comfort of Sylus at my side, or Zayne’s lingering presence at my shoulder, or Caleb and Xavier just steps away.

They were here.

And so was I.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The six of us spilled into Sylus’ penthouse kitchen—my heart still fluttering, brimming with emotions we’d laid bare moments ago. Though the charge remained, it felt lighter now—like the surface of water settling after a storm.

The kitchen gleamed with a cold elegance worthy of Sylus’ reputation—floor‑to‑ceiling windows hugging polished marble floors, the view of N109’s neon sprawl shimmering around us. A sculpted island of black quartz, veins slashed with silver, anchored the room. High-gloss cabinets hovered above brushed steel fixtures. Recessed lights traced each angle, highlighting a vase of midnight orchids and a pristine copper breadbox. Nearby, fresh basil in a ceramic pot softened the austerity with green warmth.

I leaned against the island, the space buzzing with unsaid possibilities. My eyes flicked over each of them: Sylus, poised near the wall; Caleb and Zayne exchanging a small, knowing glance; Xavier’s arm draped unconsciously at his side; Rafayel’s quiet smirk. My gaze landed on Sylus, who moved suddenly toward an almost hidden section of the kitchen—where a massive walk‑in fridge and freezer stood concealed behind a matching panel.

He swung the door open, revealing tiers of everything from fresh produce to artisanal cheeses, bottles of wine, and artisanal ice cream in gleaming tubs.

He returned, two bowls in hand. He slid one toward me, thick with swirls of vanilla and caramel, and the other nestled in front of himself. He offered me a spoon with that small, half‑smile—one that carried both generosity and a touch of pride.

“I got the best we had,” he said, tone matter‑of‑fact but warm.

I immersed the spoon into the ice cream, the cold bursting across my tongue. The creamy flavor grounded me in a way I hadn’t expected.

Everyone else hovered, their gazes cast long in the kitchen’s ambient light.

Rafayel finally moved forward, breaking the hush with theatrical flair. “Ice cream for Sylus and our lady? Trash for the rest of us? Disintegrate us at the base, why don’t you.”

Zayne shot him a look: amusement hidden behind a controlled exhale. Caleb offered me a gentle smile. Xavier merely nodded approval.

Raf leaned in conspiratorially. “I call dibs on the next dessert run—don’t think I’m letting you get all the ice cream, boss-man.”

Sylus didn’t say anything; he just settled onto a stool, ice cream in hand, eyes flicking between Raf and me.

I laughed softly—warm and relief‑heavy. “Remember when you solved my living situation for the next decade?”

I scooped another bite. “Sylus bought the apartment right below Xavier’s —furnished it, stocked me with clothes. He paid for years of rent already. Literally, he fixed my next ten years before I even moved in.”

Sylus’ brows rose slightly—an almost invisible blush creeping across his cheekbones.

“Practical,” he said dryly. “But yes.”

I looked around at them again. “And now here I am. In your world. In your kitchen,” I added, voice quieter, vulnerable. “I’m settled. I have… clothes. I have a place that isn’t on the edge of losing it all. But… I still don’t know—what I do now.”

My thumb scrawled the rim of the bowl.

“In my world, surviving meant constant danger. My future was broken dreams and empty rooms. Now I live here. I have you all. I’m scared shitless—to hold this, to believe it.”

I swallowed, steadier now. “But… I’ll try. Not just survive. But—live. With you.”

The ice cream warmed, softening under the restaurant‑grade lights. Around us, the kitchen held its breath.

Sylus murmured: “Then live.”

Zayne nodded with an almost imperceptible click of his jaw.

Xavier raised a glass of water in a silent toast.

Caleb reached out to link our hands on the counter.

Rafayel offered me a triumphant grin—“Mission affectionately sabotaged,” he whispered.

I took a slow bite, savoring more than sweetness—the knowledge that I belonged somewhere, even if I didn’t have the map.

Sylus leaned his forearms onto the dark quartz counter, his bowl of half-melted ice cream abandoned in front of him. “You could work for me,” he said, like it was the most natural suggestion in the world. “I have enough contracts to keep you busy for a lifetime. Something behind the scenes, maybe. Whatever you want.”

I choked out a soft, disbelieving laugh, the kind that caught behind the ribs. “Yeah, no offense, but the idea of working for a guy who dabbles in black market protocores, unregistered weapons, and the occasional corporate takedown? It’s... a little intimidating.” I gave him a teasing glance. “You give off just enough mob boss energy to scare the hell out of me.”

Sylus didn’t even blink. “You wouldn’t be scared if you trained.”

“I’ve never even fired a gun,” I confessed, tapping my spoon against the edge of the bowl.

“Then we’ll fix that,” he said easily. “Not because I want you to use it. But because I want you to have the choice.”

His words wrapped around something soft inside me. Something I didn’t know had longed for that kind of autonomy.

Xavier tilted his head slightly, arms crossed over his chest from his spot by the window. “You ever thought about becoming a Hunter? I could put in a good word.”

I looked at him with quiet gratitude but shook my head. “I don’t think I have it in me to chase danger on purpose. I’ve had enough of that in my life.”

There was no judgment in his eyes, only understanding.

Caleb leaned forward, squeezing my hand under the island. “Then what do you want to do?”

That stopped me.

What did I want?

I glanced around the kitchen, all five of them watching me with different shades of hope in their expressions. But my eyes locked onto Zayne. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His presence always felt like gravity—anchoring, unwavering.

And something clicked.

I remembered that ridiculous Valentine’s Day event card from the game. The one where he hadn’t been an ER doctor with blood on his gloves and exhaustion in his bones. No. He’d been a veterinarian… among other things that I refused to bring to mind during that event.

That card had meant nothing in my world, just digital fluff with leather meant to sell a fantasy. But now, it felt like a whisper from the version of me that had still believed in something gentle. Something kind. Something alive.

“I…” I cleared my throat. “I love animals. More than I’ve ever really loved people. That’s probably why I kept getting hurt. But... is there a school? A clinic? Somewhere I could learn how to help them? Take care of them?”

Zayne’s expression softened into something I didn’t have a name for.

“There’s a veterinary medicine program at the Nara Institute, not far from the East Sector,” he said, voice low and sure. “It’s intense, but they have a beginner track too. I have contacts there. I can help you get in.”

The way he said it—without hesitation, without doubt—it nearly unraveled me.

“You’d help me?” I whispered.

He smiled, just a little. “You don’t have to be alone in anything anymore, Aven.”

Something fragile cracked open inside me. I nodded, unable to speak.

“Done then,” Sylus said simply, already reaching for his tablet. “I’ll cover the costs. Supplies. Books. Tuition.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked at him.

“You want to learn,” he said. “So you’ll learn. That’s all that matters.”

Rafayel grinned. “Our girl’s about to be surrounded by puppies and kittens. I give her two weeks before she tries to adopt five of them.”

I laughed despite myself, brushing away the heat in my eyes. “You’re not wrong.”

And somehow, in the flickering light of that kitchen—between the sharp edges of trauma and the soft weight of new beginnings—I let myself imagine a life that didn’t hurt.

Not all the time.

Not anymore.

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

[2xchomp]

Just a thought, but in a stream, Pearl asked who we wanted her to partner up with (other than Gem) in the next life series if there is one.

And the conclusion she saw most in chat was Grian ‘cause of y’know, Skyblings, and that gave me a thought.

If those two did partner up, someone is going to have their curse broken.

It’s become a general uh, theory (?) within the fandom that both Pearl and Grian have some variation of the Widow’s curse - Grian with having a hand in (final) killing his teammates in some way and Pearl outliving her teammates in each series.

Therefore if they do partner up together! One curse will be broken and I honestly don’t know which I want to be broken more.

Anyways thank you for coming to my sleep deprived rambling , have a good rest of your day y’all.

[methoughtsphantom]

Danny fake guardian angel au

You know how sometimes it’s highlighted how you have to be very careful on what you say in the presence of a spirit because they can twist your words and end up bidding yourself to it?? well uno-reverse-card the spirit also has to be careful on what he says because when Danny had said he owed the dude one for coming to his rescue in a gala Vlad had dragged him to, he didn’t expect that to be taken literally.

danny: wait seriously?? i literally say that all the time!

cw: not after being crowned ghost king, you haven’t

danny: but—but I was also human when I said it. doesn’t that protect me or smth

cw: *shakes his head*

danny:

danny: omg this is a nightmare

cue timmy’s brucequest period (cuz he’s the guy) being so high strung and tired, he just wants some company, which is a so low stakes thing to want the deal Danny unintentionally goes sure we can do that and pulls him towards the guy, despite Timmy never outright saying he wants company. (tim always speaks in the sanctity of his own mind, not out loud)

So. random spirit manifesting. Tim going all who the fuck are u

and Danny panicking and saying your guardian angel

Tim not being impressed while Danny promptly blushes like a moron because that did not come off as he wanted it to.

Yes accidental dead tired where the dynamic goes from Tim trying to shake this probably demon that somehow latched to him being all like ??? dude leave me alone, and Danny being there like bitch i’m trying

to

huh. im actually being protected by a spirit like he said he would. he’s strangely an idiot but also he’s overpowered and just never leaves my side which he says it’s an angel obligation but I think it’s bullshit but also hoping it’s not because it appeals to my crippling fear of abandonment (anyways he really seems to take after those little cartoon angels that poof into your shoulder to keep from me doing wrong decisions) translate into my future boyfriend seems increasingly appalled to what i am up to

meanwhile danny

Bitch you better thank your god I’m dead because otherwise I would already been killed. I did not sign up for a assassins what the fuck I thought you were a normal civilian not a literal superhero and omg that is a fruitloop. no no back off you wrinkly raisin this is my emotional support idiot you can’t have him and what do you mean you’re messing with time whatever this way I can get back to clockwork—

[jynxedshapeshifter]

It's really funny to me that Apollo canonically gets jealous when Klavier receives attention and arguably gets jealous when Klavier gives anyone else attention too. Like dude you two aren't even an item, you need to take a chill pill lmao

[batfam-stuff-posts-0]

The fact that this is a tag makes me. so happy, actually

[murdockhawkeye]

sometimes i think about the girls telling their families after graduation. and the comedic (but also angst) potential that has

like, imagine the lore dumps they'd have. like, oh yeah, emma accidentally killed miriam that one time, or rikki's been kidnapped four times, or hey, that lady down by the docks people said was a witch? she was actually a mermaid too

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s7 episode 21 “je souhaite” thoughts

welcome back to M2LS for the newest episode liveblog!

i have to say, this feels monumental. we are almost at the end of s7. i know a lot of people enjoy this episode, and i’m in the mood for something light and airy before we descend into the s8 angst. 

yes, you must recall that i googled this show and read the wikipedia page a year ago before i started watching it, so i know some things. but to be honest, i’m kind of sickly excited for the s8 angst😈there are some particular tropes at play that i’m looking forward to investigating.

but! we have to get there first. and i plan on getting all of my s7 stuff around before watching the finale for cliffhanger reasons. and also, my posting will probably get way less regular very shortly… but it was a brilliant year of 2 or 3 posts a week that we shared. 

anyway. let us get comfy and cozy and started!

reading the description… a man without a mouth…? a corpse without a head? a genie?? what will mulder wish for!! and why the french title… lmao. let us see

(post-episode thoughts: peace and love. and also may i SPECIFICALLY note goodwill toward men!!!!)

we open in missouri. someone is looking for anson, who is reading a magazine filled with pictures of boats. i support him chilling in a storage unit and looking at boats instead of working. 

he hasn’t cleared out 407! oh. don’t tell him he won’t amount to anything! “a monkey could do this job, right, jay?” “well, you can’t, so what’s that say about you?” <- OOP! jay commands him to go clean out 407 THIS INSTANT!

he cracks the lock on the storage unit, which is filled with old furniture covered in plastic. and many cobwebs. and a rug. with something in it! it jumps! then unrolls it as spooky music plays…. OH! a woman? with a gem under her eye! was chilling in the rug!

she opens her eyes…. and he seems to have vanished! jay comes back to the carpet rolled out. but then jay starts to grunt. HE LOST HIS MOUTH? well. that must be the guy without a mouth part of the episode explained.

how will bro eat or drink!!!

intro time… literally GET spooky with it. i love the scene of baby agents with the guns. very short intro. we must have an action-packed episode.

mulder is at the desk, asking someone- who i presume to be jay- if he can get him some coffee, or water, or anything. he shakes his head no. probably because he has no mouth. and mulder goes over more paperwork, bouncing his pen around. i do love that man.

OHHH SCULLY… she opens the door, says good morning, and then makes a very funny face at mulder when she realizes there is someone else in their space. AWWWW. my princess :(

LMAOOOO her pointing and mouthing “who is that?” I LOVE HERRRR!

LMAOOOOO, THE WAY SHE GASPS WHEN SHE SEES HIS FACE AND THEN CATCHES HERSELF WITH A “NICE TO MEET YOU” <- THAT IS MY QUEEN!!! she wants to be POLITE!!!

it seems jay cannot say certain words. mulder shows scully the pictures of his mouthlessness, while jay says that anson did this to him. so i guess they cut him a new mouth somehow. which is good, all things considered! glad he found a doctor who could do that.

so anson told jay to shut up and then… jay had no mouth. yeah. anson was found several days later, but refused questioning. mulder points out they had nothing on anson- but politely!

“they had to make me a whole new mouth”, replies jay, and that would also make me so mad, so i sympathize

poor guy is mopping up his new mouth blood…

the agents head to mark twain trailer court in missouri, which must have been a long drive slash flight.

scully is telling mulder about the effects of a disease known as scleroderma, which is the overproduction of collagen, and i love her so dearly. there is so much tenderness in my heart for her. but mulder is like… that doesn’t just happen in a blink of an eye! mulder shoulder grab….

she’s still coming up with various medical reasons for a vanished mouth. and i see this episode was written and directed by our friend vince. tbh, i can’t really remember if he has a certain style of episode. i’ll probably figure it out along the way. 

(so. i see he's a little shippy at moments)

LMAO, SCULLY GRABS HIM AS THEY SEE THE GIANT BOAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TRAILER PARK… this show is so funnyyyyy sometimes.

anson sees them approach, saying they must be from the IRS, and warns someone named leslie to get rid of them. scully says hi :) and leslie starts to stutter that the boat is not theirs! they’re… holding it for someone else. “and they pay the taxes on it” “oookay” <- AWWWW. i love her reactions when people are being weird.

leslie tries to shut the door in their faces, but mulder does not allow this. oh, leslie is anson’s brother. mulder sees someone in the back… and says hello. she looks goth.

leslie says jay’s mouth thing comes from chemicals. like, one time, his brother found a guy with a meth lab in the storage unit, so, they should check that out. LMAO.

mulder declares he knows what is going on here… then they investigate the storage unit of mystery. he finds a calendar from 1978, and scully says it’s too bad, this furniture is really wonderful. (my heart skipped a few beats at her admiration of it all)

it’s expensive- very expensive. tell us more about your fancy furniture knowledge, queen. maybe anson stole something from in here and then dipped. and then used the money to buy a boat… “there’s your crime: theft”

my heart is just overcome with love for these two. idk what is wrong with me on this fine evening. maybe nothing is wrong with me and everything is supremely right. 

mulder finds a picture in a frame and calls her over. it’s a picture of a guy with three women surrounding him- one of which was the goth lady from the trailer! chilling in a fancy car. queen. and she hasn’t aged at all, despite the photo being very old. 

anson says that he has two down, nothing to show for it. “you got the boat” points out leslie. which anson declares has done him no good! goth lady says it’s like a white elephant. “so what the hell did you give it to me for?” “because you asked for it” <- ohhhh, clock his tea!!! he argues that he shouldn’t have had to specify the boat should have gone in some water!

this genie queen…. 

OH. leslie says maybe he could use the last wish to get rid of the boat, and anson threatens to put him in a home. now, i can support slacking off at work, but i cannot support this sort of language. genie is playing with the TV remote that is in the shape of a woman’s body. classy

“you could always give that guy his mouth back” LMAOOOO 

leslie suggests money. an infinite number of wishes. she kills both of those ideas quick. 

“you know, i have a thought. granted, it’s pretty obvious” (she gestures to leslie’s wheelchair) LMAOOO they don’t pick up on what she is saying at ALLLLLLL 

anson FINALLY says he is absolutely ready: he wishes he could turn invisible at will. use it to sneak around, pick up stock tips, snoop on women. james bond stuff. she tells him it is unoriginal. and then declares that it is done. 

BUT HE DIDN’T SPECIFY THE CLOTHES PART, LMAOOOO. absolute rookie mistake.

so he strips right there. she asks him to please turn invisible. and he does! then he goes for a walk. runs straight into some trash cans. he is on his way. hollering about being invisible. 

goth genie disappears. her work is done. anson runs around, invisibly kicking and pushing stuff. sees some women across the street. presses the crosswalk to approach them in a creepy man fashion. but the cars can’t see him!!! and he gets hit by a tractor trailer!!! 

well. instant justice for objectifying those women.

an undisclosed amount of time later, a biker trips over his rotting invisible corpse.

scully is here. an empty stretcher is pulled into her lab. and the assistants ask if they can leave. an autopsy on an invisible guy! that has to be new for her.

she traces his figure. looking for that glowy powder. gently taps it on….. she looks so excited. LMAOOO, LOOK AT HER HAVING FUN WITH IT. girl is gonna need soooo much of that stuff. she makes out a face!!!

eventually, she has made the whole guy yellow. and mulder comes by to antagonize her. the body has a perfect match to anson’s dental records- scully thinks he must have been hit by a car or truck. “and he’s invisible” “yes, he is” <- she seems soooo excited. i’m happy for her.

OHHH, she says it is the best thing she has seen in their 7 years working together. it will change the boundaries of science! she is covered in yellow powder, and he looks at her like she’s the whole world, which she is.

mulder says it is amazing, but he doesn’t think it has anything to do with science. sad scully face. he looked up that guy from the photograph they found back in the storage unit- turns out he made $30 million in a year. and then died of… hold on, let me google something. she is sooo taken aback by whatever it is he says.

ah. death by extreme boner. LOOK AT HER FACEEEE, she does not wanna think about that, LMAOOOOOO

he thinks the mystery woman is the link between the strange old man and anson's case, and therefore they ought to investigate. but scully wants to stay with the body to make sure no one comes and messes with it- it is truly amazing. and he nods and smiles. she is still covered in yellow. i love her soooo much. 

back at the trailer park, “you suck” has been written on leslie’s boat, while mulder tells him he is very sorry for his loss. leslie wants to know if his brother suffered- mulder says no, but asks about the invisible thing. and then where the woman went. he thinks she is a genie! and then they start singing a song together. good for them, i suppose.

leslie says he doesn’t know what mulder talking about. and mulder says you should hand me the object containing the genie right now- for your own safety. leslie wheels away. grabs a case of something. hands it to mulder. who tells him he is doing the right thing. did he really give him it?? i don’t buy it…

scully is taking a million pictures of invisible man while leslie goes back to the storage unit to see if the genie has returned…

OHH, scully doesn’t want to leave the dead guy. “come on, he’s not going anywhere” <- OHHH HER PAINED EXPRESSION… I LOVE HERRR. and she says “bye” to the body before leaving, then tells mulder so excitedly that a group of researchers will be flying in from harvard to inspect him!!

she investigates the little box leslie gave him… which mulder says is what the brothers keep their weed in. LMAO, HER FACE AGAIN- THIS WOMAN IS KILLLLLING ME.

why do i feel the body is going to go missing….

OH! mulder pulls up a video of mussolini which has the genie woman next to him, LMAOOOO. i did not see that coming. he ran her image through the facial recognition database and then the national archives. AWW. he is so clever. 

and then she’s with nixon!!! “both men who got all the power they ever wished for and then lost it” <- ohhh…. very interesting. maybe the act of wishing is doomed in itself… or maybe their wishes were stupid, and mulder can come up with the perfect ones.

back at the storage unit, leslie has found the genie!!! “can we just get this over with, please? three wishes. go” <- LMAOOO I LOVE HER. so she must live in the rug and he brought the rug back to the boat.

she gestures to leslie and says “your disability” …. LMAOOOOOO, HE SAYS HE COULD WISH FOR A SOLID GOLD WHEELCHAIR- BAHAHA, KING!!!

but there is something he wants more than a solid gold wheelchair. is he going to wish for his brother back? what will happen to the body if he does??

scully presents the body to the team of researchers…. but there’s nothing there. NOOOOOO, POOR THING. she’s reaching for him and coming up with nothing.

anson is a zombie!! leslie is not pleased. he did not ask to bring him back to normal- just back. another technicality oversight.

so leslie wishes zombie anson could talk- even though genie says no, you don’t- he insists. and zombie anson just opens his mouth and SCREAMS.

OH, POOR SCULLY SAYS SHE SHOULD SHOOT HERSELF AS MULDER INVESTIGATES WHERE THE BODY WAS…. NOOOO QUEEN, NEVER KILL YOURSELF!!! she was so happy. she thinks it was too good to be true. in her sweet green sweater. mulder says he thinks the disappearance was the result of a wish. who would want anson back? 

cut back to the boat with leslie, where anson is STILL SCREAMING, LMAOOO. he asks leslie what he did to him. leslie wheels away, muttering he wasted two wishes on him. anson turns on the stove…. he tries to light a match as leslie plans his third wish. 

the agents return to the boat as anson tries to light a match. leslie decides on his final wish: LEGS!!! but anson lights the match and blows the whole place up just as he makes his choice! the agents are nearly blown away!!! SCULLY BLOWING HER HAIR OUT OF HER FACE AS SHE IS SPRAWLED ON THE PAVEMENT, LMAOOO

and the rug THUDS behind them. 

THEY FIND THE GENIE!!!! he asks to call her jen. scully wants an explanation!!! mulder wants to know if she is a good or evil genie! “the only thing you people are cursed with is stupidity” <- get their asses. people have not changed a bit, she says. but they smell better now. 

“you’re saying that you have been a firsthand witness to 500 years of human history” <- oh scully, you big nerd, i would ask the same question.

she says she used to be human in 15th century france. she unrolled a rug. found a genie. asked for a mule, a sack that was always full or turnips (amazing!), and then…. great power and a long life. but in french, of course. hence the title of the episode. she says she should have been more specific. 

she wants to know if she’s under arrest, and scully is like… well, can’t think of anything you did, so feel free to go. but she can’t! mulder has to make his wishes! bro begins to contemplate. 

will his overthinking prove worthwhile?

back in his apartment, the genie says she doesn’t think scully likes her very much, LMAO. “oh, i don’t think she knows what to make of you” <- a very measured response. and he doesn’t know what to make of her either!

he tries to ask what her wish would be… she wants to live life moment-by-moment instead of worrying about what it isn’t. she’d drink coffee and watch the world go by. 

“you say that most people make the wrong wishes, right?” “without fail. it’s like giving a chimpanzee a revolver” LMAOO

he thinks the trick would be to make a wish that benefits everyone. 

he asks for peace on earth. she groans. “what the hell’s wrong with that? you can’t do it?” and then it’s done. he looks out the window….. everyone is gone!!!! NOOOOOOOO. he asks for scully, LMAOOO. aww, he goes back to their office…. calls out for anyone…. looks for skinner…… calls the genie back. “you know damn well that is not what i meant” 

LMAOOOO, SHE IS BULLYING HIMMM

AND HE WISHES TO UNDO THE WISH AND STARTS YELLING AT HER… BUT HE IS IN SKINNER’S OFFICE AND HIM AND A TON OF OTHER PEOPLE REAPPEAR IN A MEETING WHILE HE IS TEARING INTO HER

“i think there another possibility here, and that’s just that you’re a BITCH” <- LMAOOOO

NOOOOOOO, SKINNER HEARS ALL THIS!!!

so mulder is typing up his final wish on the computer so he can get it PERFECT using super legal language that CANNOT be misinterpreted.

in comes scully, saying skinner called to check on him- is everything alright? “you don’t remember disappearing off the face of the earth for about an hour this morning?” “no” “well, i guess everything’s okay”

i predict that he is going to wish for this genie to be free so no one else can make these sorts of mistakes… and also because he is a nice guy deep down

LMAOOOOO, THE WAY SHE TURNS AND ASKS THE GENIE IF SHE COULD GIVE THEM A MINUTE PLEASE, BAHAHAAAA. the genie doesn’t go anywhere. “like today?” and then she is gone. 

love when scully gets so mad her carefully curated facade of politeness cracks- it always makes me giggle… tell that genie to GTFO so you and the bestie can have a chat, dr. scully. i support you!

if this REALLY is a genie- what he is doing is very dangerous! he thinks he can make a perfect wish and fix the world. “maybe it’s the whole point of our lives here, mulder- to achieve that. maybe it’s a process that one man shouldn’t try and circumvent with a single wish” <- ohhh, scully and her wisdom… and mulder and his puppy dog eyes…. she goes to leave. he keeps typing. then he says he is ready for his last wish.

AWWW, I PAUSED TO SEE THE THING HE WAS TYPING BEFORE HE TURNED IT OFF. it reads, in part: “i hereby do lay out my wish with consideration of every loophole possible” <- awwww, he was trying so hard!!! he wants to save the world!

back at his place, he puts in a movie with scully, teasing her about not wanting butter on her popcorn. they’re watching caddyshack. “it’s a classic american movie” “that’s what every guy says. it’s a guy movie” “okay, when you invite me over to your place, we can watch steel magnolias” LMAOOOO. they crack open some beers (possibly some other generic sort of soda or bottled beverage, but it LOOKS like a damn beer. only making note of this because i know what happens in the next episode). she laughs as he tries to toss his cap into the trash and misses.

ohhhhh, so they must not do regular movie nights… it seems like that anyway, based off of how she asks what the occasion is. well, don’t worry. movie nights are still gonna happen in fanfiction, even if they don’t talk about anything deep.

seems like he is willing to do at least a LITTLE deep talking tonight, though: “i don’t know if you noticed, but i never made the world a happier place” “well, i’m fairly happy. that’s something” <- OHHHHHH MY GOD. i’m gonna fall to my knees. and they smile at each other. she asks about his final wish. 

and we see that the genie is…. watching life go by in a cafe!! drinking a coffee!!

OHHH MY GOD.

immediately rewinds. 

i need to google what caddyshack is. it is a comedy about golf. writing that down to inform his taste on other matters. OHHHH, and his “i don’t know. just felt like the thing to do” when she asks why a movie night… STOP.

i kept thinking they were going to kiss again, but they didn’t. THEIR SMILES AT EACH OTHER…….

stop. mulder choosing to wish for something that would help the genie….. because he knew he couldn’t fix everything on his own… and he realized this only because scully pointed it out to him... an actual moment where he recognizes his well-meaning hubris... and the genie’s smile as she gets to live her dream… he is just a nice guy…

rewatches the scene AGAIN. her laughter when he misses the trashcan. and her nervous tapping fingers on the bottle. the fish tank in the background. and her smile when she says “that’s something” and he’s looking at herrrrr and AUGH.

and the way they get to have this rare moment of peace after so much pain…. oh my GOD, i need to lay down.

and knowing what i know happens next…. well. like i said, maybe it’s root beer and not real beer. maybe there’s a time skip of a few significant weeks or months between this episode and the next. the designs on the bottles are vague!!

RAHHHH i need to explode a little, please give me five minutes. 

(watches it again) the way she looks at him when she asks what his final wish was, AHHHH

oh my god. so yeah, this one lived up to the hype, LMAO.

a balm for my soul before we plunge into the dark times. which, like i said, i am kinda sickly excited for anyway. they said we need to pile on the silly ones NOW before things get crazy. 

i have a bunch of question as to how this next arc is going to pan out given that i know like, the very basics. but i shall try my best to be incredibly patient and wait for the answers even if they are retconned into existence a decade later, which i think is what happened. that’s the sort of stuff i bring to the table: patience (<- said by someone who is lying)

shoutout to the genie- she may have been a bitch, but she was THAT bitch. like, she took down mussolini AND nixon… that’s getting the job done!!!

ahhh…. so refreshing to feel their happiness in canon. it just bathes over you. like a balm of some sort. i can’t imagine how people see this as not worthy of exploration. you need these moments to breathe to give the audience rest in between a million episodes of saving the world. because at a certain point, saving the world isn't enough of a reason to justify the story you’re telling. you have to show us why the world deserves to be saved: because it has moments of real and genuine connection and love that make all the suffering worth it.

SIGH.

i’m sure i will have more thoughts tomorrow, but right now i need to go just sit and ponder. listen to the rain. read a book. think about what it means to be alive. 

okay, so it’s been a few days since i watched the episode, and i still have so many thoughts. one of which is that i was so SAD scully didn’t get to share her discovery of an invisible corpse with the whole world 💔 my poor queen… she was SO happy to dab all of that yellow powder on a body. not sure if we have ever seen her more excited. and she was covered in the damn stuff and it was soooo cute.

and mulder… he is just a nice man. sometimes his character writing is inconsistent or sometimes he gets ahab-y, but like at the end of the day, that is a guy who, with his full chest and heart, asked a genie for world peace. baby. baby boy. he may be a grown man, but to me that is also a baby. you understand, of course.

and he was so SMUG when he thought he figured it out lmao “can i call you JEN?” like this man 💀💀 he killlllls me!!!

and then let’s talk about scully just kinda accepting that, sure. maybe we do genies now. idgaf. we can’t arrest her. and also can she PLEASE give us like 5 minutes alone? LMAOOOO, that sent me OVERBOARD “like, today?” <- you TELL HER!!

but of course she had lots of deep and true scully wisdom to impart on him: that making the world a better place takes hard work, and maybe that is why we are here, and we cannot simply wish perfection into existence. which. when you think of the context of their stories and how much they have lost, but they keep trying to make the world a better place, even if it’s a little bit at a time, be it through finding scientific truths or putting dangerous criminals behind bars or making each other smile… SIGH.

an excellent episode. i will cherish it and hold the memories close as i type up my end of s7 favorite moments lists and then dive into the finale and s8. i look forward to meeting some new faces and seeing if i enjoy them and also obtaining a temporary citizenship in angst nation. but also i cannot do TOO much angst (gestures to s4), so we will have to see how i feel about the whole thing. i am approaching with an open mind and heart.

[qoldenskies]

What do you mean when you say Donnie is an extrovert?

OH i dont know if he's an extrovert, he just acts extroverted like all of them do. he's definitely the quietest of the four, and arguably the most independent (the other three flock together very closely, while a lot of donnie's episodes are about him and april, or him individually), but he expresses a lot of desire for companionship, appreciation, and attention.

the purple jacket is probably the best example of this tbh. he jumps for joy at the idea of meeting like-minded people, and he's the only one who has ever really expressed interest in school.

and his interest is social!! it's less about wanting to work and learn because he seems to already know everything, it comes from the urge to bond with people who are interested in intellectual topics like him. i'm thinking he kind of has a glamorized perspective of school because he's not in it, he'd probably find it upsetting if he was (the social aspect of it, at least).

he has no problem waltzing up to them and confidently inserting themselves into their conversation, and awkwardly trying to do so to their friend group. there's also things like him being so excited to talk to the librarian in mystic library; he's actually relatively outgoing.

i think the idea of him being this ultra-introverted social recluse who spends most of his time holed up in his lab is very much an invention of the fandom. leo hates public outings a lot more than donnie does. as long as he wants to be there and is interested in the topic, it's an environment he likes being in. i actually just see him as a very social creature burdened by having a very lonely job, especially because of how considerate his work is and how aggressively praise-motivated he is when he presents it. hell he even kept shelldon Like That even though he's probably around him while he works constantly.

he's probably an ambivert tbh

[contententhusiast]

okay but has anyone else thought about what it must have been like to manifest a signet that is basically a death warrant except for one small caveat and then how do you explain and prove that to the people in charge who literally would not hesitate to kill you in an instant if your story does not check out? Because I can't stop thinking about how scared Dain prob was when he started manifesting

[phoenixcatch7]

Loz fandom stop being angsty and give the daydreaming kids on big fun adventures with a cool glowing sword some actual whimsy and joy challenge

[total-drama-brainrot]

Noah is canonically the youngest of eight sibling. Eight.

You don't grow up in a family that large, as the youngest and therefore the favourite victim, and not have a super casual relationship with touch.

This guy is light enough to be literally blown away by a strong breeze; if you think even for a second that his family didn't take turns carrying him around like a briefcase and abducting him from whatever he was doing into a Family Pile™ then you're objectively wrong.

(You also can't convince me that he wasn't spoiled rotten as the baby of the family.)

So frequent platonic touching is pretty normal for him, expected even, and he tends to be more tactile than his personality or demeanour would suggest.

He gives Owen side-hugs and pats on the arm every time the two interact, and wilfully flops himself onto Eva whenever he's overwhelmed and wants the company of someone comparatively quiet (she always uses it as an excuse to carry him to the gym and encourage him to bulk up, though it never works). He tries to tire out Izzy's boundless energy by play-fighting and grappling with her (much to his chagrin) despite him essentially ending up as her glorified chew toy, and often times passes out due to being a stick insect in human form.

It's unexpected, just how casually clingy he is to the people he trusts/likes.

But you know who isn't used to physical contact?

Cody E.J. "my parents forgot my birthday" Anderson

This wet noodle of a boy bigs himself up as a ladies' man and a hot commodity but wouldn't know what to do with himself if someone held his hand. The concept of affection of any kind is so foreign to him, especially positive physical contact- I wouldn't be surprised if he could count the amount of hugs his parents had given him on one hand.

And this is backed by his canonical desperation for acknowledgement! Every time he pursues Gwen, even when he's directly shot down and sometimes harshly rejected, he still tries to win her affections and festers the delusion that she likes him. After all, everyone who's supposed to care about him does the same! His parents, 'friends' or lack thereof, ect.; they all ignore/rebuff him so it must be a sign of endearment.

Additionally, he sleeps with a stuffed emu at the ripe age of 16/17- as stated by Sierra, which he never denies (not that there's anything wrong with that, stuffed animals are top tier imho). You know who else sleeps with stuffed animals? Touch-starved people.

Cody is incredibly attention-starved, touch-starved and, post World Tour, in all likelihood somewhat touch-averse- at least when it comes to other people initiating contact.

To elaborate; Sierra is constantly breaching his personal bubble non-consensually, which would inadvertently condition anyone into being at least a little haphephobic, but Cody himself is more than happy to instigate contact with people he trusts (i.e. hugging Alejandro when he protects Cody from Sierra overnight in Rapa Phooey!).

...See where I'm going with this?

We see these two cuddling twice in canon; once in the Awake-a-thon and again in the Celebrity Manhunt. Once is happenstance, but twice indicates a pattern or coincidence but I'm going to gloss over that for the sake of this post.

Plus, with their consistent proximity during Action, they had plenty of time to form some type of relationship be it friendly or more.

(Wouldn't you want to at the very least get some closure from the guy who kissed you/you kissed for the world to see? It would be awkward to completely ignore each other, and they literally shared a cabin at one point so it's not like they were strangers either. So of course they're at least cordial from Action onwards.)

Then, as Noah becomes more comfortable around Cody, his tactile tendancies come to play.

Cody, predictably, reacts skittishly at the alien phenomenon known as friendly touch and tries to play it off to preserve his cool-guy image. Except Noah's not falling for it. He's observant, if emotionally illiterate, and watching the guy you just backpatted in greeting jump five feet into the air and screech like a falcon is a flashing red alarm for even the most empathetically challenged people.

Eventually, Noah gets Cody to divulge his issues with human contact and offers his assistance to the brunette. If giving his pal a hug every now and then, and letting him in turn initiate whatever he's comfortable with, would help him overcome his rocky relationship with touch then Noah is more than happy to oblige. It's not like it's out of the norm for him, so he doesn't mind at all.

Then, gradually, Cody loses his touch aversion.

But a lifetime of isolation won't be magically cured that easily, and he finds himself craving Noah's embrace more and more. Again, the taller of the two is content to give him what he wants. Their agreement evolves into the duo napping together and feeding into Noah's sleep-hugging habit, or just spending quality time in a heap of pretzeled limbs under a weighted blanket.

(Whether their relationship is platonic or romantic is entirely up to interpretation, though I'm partial to the two being friends who are just Like That since it allows for the funniest potential character interactions. The bromance is real.)

That's as good a place as any to end the post, before I end up writing a whole drabble.

[shiraoyagi]

I miss fantasista squad . does anyone else miss fantasista squad