#<- even writing it out makes me mad

[swagging-back-to]

the scene where the rest of erens class choose to become scouts is SO fucking dramatic. they act like they're simba's father facing down the herd of stampeding buffalo. Jean has a whole entire breakdown and screams out.

all for what? peer pressure? you have faced down literal titans and have almost died and you're worried about peer pressure from the LITERAL faceless crowd? grow up. fucking babies.

[densitywell]

spent like an hour trying to find a post abt the disparity of origin companion's content in bg3 and couldn't so, hey, this fucking sucks

[ssspringroll]

DL (sfs, no ads)

They're reminiscent of citrus, ergo, they are citrussy.

Not much more to say than what's in the image. 18 swatches, some look like a slice of citrus fruit (in both realistic and unrealistic colors) and others were just kind of accidents while I was recoloring, but the effect was really really cool so I kept them.

Slider compatible. Custom thumbnail. All ages.

Sclera and shadows and everything were made by hand, the iris is an edit/paintover of one of the slices from this image. There are two versions, one without a spec map, and XSHINY, with the spec map the way I like it, which is super duper shiny. I use a cube map replacer, but if you use the EA cube map, you might prefer the look of the non-shiny one (the preview image up there features the non-shiny version). You can only have one version. My TOU is pretty open, so edit the spec to however you like it, I don't really care.

[kineticallyanywhere]

the amount to which I am furious on Normal's behalf is perhaps too much but also this that this kid is going through with no emotional catharsis or support from the people around him is awful. perhaps there's my "odd one out of the friend group" experience bleeding in here but like. hhhhrrrrrraaaaaaggggggggggggggggGGGGGGGGGGG if he doesn't keep throwing hands or start throwing words at everyone (except probably Scary right now) next ep I might start doing it for him

[dailykugisaki]

Day 124 | id in alt

A little bit of a rematch and my opinion on why you never see Mai's six(seven) shooter again.

Read from left to right.

[dollsuguru]

[why-is-it-always-autumn]

I am once again reminding everyone that

"I think that character will regret that decision; I can see the bad consequences coming, and if they were a real person I would yell at them." (you were engaged enough with the characters that they feel like real people capable of making their own choices)

"I would have liked the story better if the character had made a different decision" (a matter of personal preference with no bearing on the quality of the writing itself, or even whether you agree with the decision that was made in-universe)

and "Given what we've seen from this character previously, the writer having them make that decision broke my immersion" (an actual critique)

are all different statements and do not mean the same thing, even if they can all be phrased as "I don't like that the character made that decision"

[moreaugriffins]

Imagine Peter getting a call in the middle of the night

him thinking it's probably Ray getting excited about a definitely haunted hairbrush, and letting it ring

eventually picking it up as it continues to ring for a few minutes, only to find out it's Egon's wife

She's stressed, and worried, and Peter isn't sure why she's ringing him

But Winston isn't picking up the phone, and she knows that Egon and Ray have been arguing a lot recently so...

But she's worried

Because Egon's not doing well. He hasn't been sleeping much, or taking care of himself much (which Peter had noticed every time they went on call together), he's been muttering weird stuff, and obsessed with his notes and books, and usually she can help stop him spiralling but he's been pulling away recently, and spending less time and home and-

"He hasn't come home yet"

Egon always comes home, they made an agreement years ago. He's never broken the agreement before

So she's worried

And Peter is too

He knew Egon wasn't doing well, but they were men in their 40s, Egon wasn't a child, he could look after himself, and it was not Peter's job to monitor him. If Egon was struggling, he could speak up. He knew he could come to his friends for help

Then his mind casts back to the time in uni when Egon tried to drill a hole in his own head, how it all started just like this: the sleepless nights and obsessive studies, and pulling away from everyone, even skipping his lectures.. Peter and Ray just about got there on time.. Though Peter joked about the incident now, he's still rattled by it

He's still pretty rattled by many of Egon's vaguely suicidal experiments

He says he'll go look for Egon (after all, she's got a toddler to keep an eye on)

Reassures her that he's fine, that it'll all be fine, he probably just hyperfocused on the proton packs or something, you know how he is

It doesn't reassure her much - he doesn't even believe his own words either, but what else can he say

After the call, he heads to the Firehouse, knowing that if Egon was anywhere, it would likely be in the lab. It was practically the scientist's second home

He storms up to the lab (the place felt eerily quiet. Janine doesn't work at night anymore, Winston has his own home, and Ray has his flat above his shop)

the light is on

that's something

He opens the door, expecting to see Egon in a chaotic state (or god forbid...), and to be fair, the room is an utter mess, with books open, numbers and scripture written on the whiteboard, a pile of empty Twinkies packets around the bin stuffed full of crumpled papers

and in the middle of this mess, is Egon, head in hands, book open in front of him. It's subtle, but he can see the rise and fall of his shoulders

at least he isn't dead (he ignores how worrying that thought is)

He goes over to Egon and whacks him over the top of his head - usually an affectionate gesture from Peter (the affection is slightly lost)

"Come on Spengs, you really leaving your wife at home?"

Egon looks up at him, brows furrowed, and a practised guarded expression, though his eyes gave away the deep exhaustion and paranoia the scientist must be feeling

If it were Winston, he'd know the exact thing to say to Egon, a talk on how his actions are making his (Egon's) wife feel, and to get his act together, with the reminder that everyone was here for him

If it were Ray, despite all the arguments the two had recently, Ray would comfort him, know the exact words to calm the man and ground him back in some sense of reality - those two understood each other on a level like no other

But it was Peter here, right now

And he's not good at emotional conversations or situations. A serious conversation makes him feel like he's going to break out in hives. It's easier to joke than deal with emotions. (that's why he and Egon got on well. Neither liked talking about how they feel)

So when Egon replies with ramblings about Gozer, clearly lost and not in his right mind, Peter makes a couple jokes, he deflects from Egon's worries and brings the man down to the kitchen to make a hot chocolate to calm Egon's mind (that's what they used to do, right?)

There's more talk, mostly from Peter, about some studies he's working on (that are mostly accurate), and how Dana and Oscar are doing, and the show because oh boy does he have a story about that one man who believed he could communicate with fish-

Egon is barely engaging, Peter could see, his mind is elsewhere, running at a million miles an hour, doing complex calculations and making connections. Peter didn't envy the man really - it must be difficult having a mind so clever and loud.

So when he can tell the talking isn't working, he asks "We defeated Gozer, remember? when my girlfriend was turned into a dog, and Stay Puft got the biggest commercial for free, and we crossed the streams. He's gone forever, right?"

Egon seems to come back to reality for a moment, and they stare at each other, before Egon nods slightly and finally takes a sip of his hot chocolate.

Peter eventually drives Egon home, selfishly because he wants to keep an eye on his friend for a little longer, but Egon doesn't utter a word. That's fine. The silence makes Peter's skin itch but it seems to be doing Egon some good.

They arrive at the house (the living room lights are still on), and Egon goes to leave the car, but Peter reaches over last minute, his mouth moving faster than his brain, "All you gotta do is ask, if you need help. We're still your mates, yeah? I don't know what goes on in that brain of yours but you aren't alone."

Egon seems to be mulling something over in his head, then pulls away from Peter's grip - "Goodnight Peter." - and heads inside.

Over the next few weeks, Peter keeps an eye on Egon

He seems to slowly get better

There are no more phone calls from Egon's wife (except one to talk about what happened that night), his eyebags seem to fade away, he talks less about Gozer, the notes disappear and the books are put neatly away or are packed up, and most importantly he seems to be arguing less with the group and making an effort to spend time with them

Then he's gone

and all the equipment and Echo 1 are gone too.

[good-beans]

(Milgram self-insert oc masterpost hehe)

Name: For the sake of posting online I’ll call her Rose!

Color: #E7355B [the pink in the art]

Age: I guess she’d be 20 given when Milgram started huh.

Status: Milgram Staff, Machine Technician

Symbols/imagery: ballet/musical theater, science experiments

Song genre: very similar to Mahiru's, something upbeat and extra pop-y

Tentatively she's number 011? She's not really prisoner but she's also not free to come and go, so I'm not actually sure if she'd get a number (Edit: I've decided she'll actually be 012. Staff is given the 01X range, and even though Es doesn't actively have a number they'd be staff member 011, making her 012.)

Story: Since the project is supposed to be realistic/present day, the mv machine would be brand new and unpredictable tech, so they’d want someone keeping up on maintenance and making sure the brain-invasive process won’t cause any harm to the prisoners. Rose was studying abroad in Japan working on some cool neuroscience tech (irl I know nothing about technology or brains but shh) and she stumbled upon some secret tech/plans from Milgram. Long story short, she was dragged into the experiment to make sure things ran smoothly.

Writer's Reasoning: She’s really fun for me to play around with, as she allows me to work with a character who has a tiny bit of pull over Es’ mindset in conversation but not the final decision (aka mirroring the voting system), and someone who is simultaneously trapped in the prison but has a reason to see all the canon content.* I really enjoy the character interactions and dynamics Milgram has set up so far, so it’s been super fun seeing how things change for better and worse when someone not quite aligned with either Milgram/the prisoners is thrown into the mix!

*As much as I love dramatic irony in fiction, it would drive me crazy if I knew every detail of of the vds/mvs but Rose didn't – and every single Milgram character is The Worst Communicator Ever so I couldn’t justify that she’d hear it secondhand from them...

Story roles:

She’s a bit conflicted -- she’s officially Milgram staff and knows she should remain neutral on the prisoners, since she won’t be allowed to interfere with the process/executions. At the same time, her job description is literally “make sure the machine doesn't hurt them and everyone's safe :)” and she's way too emotional to avoid getting hopelessly attached to everyone 😅

I really enjoy the theory that the machine extracts videos based off of priming, so one of Rose’s duties involves listening in on the interrogation and making sure there’s been enough material discussed/not too much time has passed overall (hence the ringing of the bell happening at different lengths for each vd -- That's her ringing it :3). She then watches the mvs along with Es to make sure there are no machine glitches, and know how to calibrate it better for next time.

(IEdit: I've since decided to add in official trial mvs, but before when I wasn't ready to tackle that:) She has to run some tests on the machine to make sure things are calibrated correctly, so she'd extract little things here and there. It gives me the opportunity to think up lyric snippets and recurring symbols for her without worrying about full encompassing music videos.

I'm not afraid to admit she can fall into Mary Sue territory every so often by being everyone's friend, because it's less about "aw everyone likes her" and more about "canon is too painful rn and I need a fix-it tool to take care of these guys and give them hugs and tell them someone forgives them and cares about them and unfortunately these characters wouldn't let anyone less than a friend do that." Rest assured she's definitely not perfect and will fuck everything up on occasion :3

Miscellaneous: Whenever I play around with normal au ideas she's still working on the machine (but in a public, more ethical setting), and she's Mahiru's roommate :) Her character isn't super focused on love, but if I had to pick a cover song it'd be Stickybug II. It's very much my vibe, the lyrics fit well enough (better than most songs, at least lol) and it's one of my favorites out of my limited knowledge of unchosen Deco songs! (Edit, I've actually given her non-deco cover songs hehe)

So yeah, I hope she's not too boring without a cool crime to decipher, but I wanted to share since I was really proud of her! It took a bit of tinkering to find a way to fit her into a perfect secret-third-thing role that runs very smoothly with all of canon, so I was very excited!

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 17

continuation of byakuya's no good very bad worst shit ass day of his life (so far)(!!!)

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this chapter went a little different from how i originally planned bc I was going to make byakuya much more stupid. but. he needs to fly off the handle several times later so. we can't let loose all at once

to be very fair to makoto he did not want to do that. and yet. here we are

the king of kings!! @digitaldollsworld

Content warning tags: ableist language from various characters, Byakuya's panic spiral, mild self-harm reference

< previous - from start - next >

Time seems to grind to a halt. His breath is still caught in his throat, halfway through a relieved sigh as he had been waiting - expecting - for Makoto to help him. To pull up some vague, hidden piece of evidence to clear him of any suspicion, to cleverly point out some irrefutable proof that had previously lay unseen.

But instead - his heartbeats feel too heavy. His breathing feels too light, deprived of any real oxygen. His head pounds in the same way it did when he was struck earlier, with a dull, pulsing ring that washes out everything around him.

He prided himself, once, on being able to read a person’s intent. To judge just when and why they might choose to abandon him, to cross him, to try and use him for their own intents. For that reason, he supposes, is why this sickly, sticky feeling of dread is so new to him. He’s never known real betrayal before.

His eyes dart around the room, but the others don’t seem to believe Makoto just yet. Even Owada seems taken aback, stock still and quiet. Only Kirigiri seems unsurprised - or maybe, he was only imagining it, the tranquil quality of her silence. As if she were merely observing it all, far out of their reach.

“Seriously??” Syo’s voice is a grating jeer. “You’re telling me this whole time he had no idea what I looked like? No wonder he didn’t fall for me at first sight!”

“I…don’t think that’s the reason why,” Hagakure says, though he seems utterly bewildered. “But, that can’t be right, right? I’ve seen him reading loads of times. And he practically lives in the library, y’know?”

“Yeah, and he can do things just fine for himself.” Asahina says in agreement. “I mean, he does his own laundry and stuff, and he knows this place way better than me at least. I didn’t even know where the A/V room was during the first motive, I just sorta followed him.”

“Yes, this is sort of…” For the first time, Celeste sounds genuinely surprised, her usually unphased demeanor wavering, her accent slipping for a moment. “Ahem. While I did note that he sometimes seemed a bit…eccentric, so to speak, nothing of his actions suggested that he was impaired.”

Their skepticism is a small relief. He nods jerkily, unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to verbalize his agreement. But it’s a small, pathetic movement that goes unnoticed, hardly amounting to anything in this large courtroom.

And their disbelief only goes so far. Ogami speaks up now, for the first time since the trial began, her low voice immediately silencing the whispers.

“I performed a concussion test on him earlier,” She says, gruffly. “As Kyoko had asked me to. He was lucid when answering my questions, and he didn’t seem to exhibit any symptoms that couldn’t be attributed to other reasons.” There’s a slight creak of wood, as she shifts her weight on the stand. “However, I did notice that his pupils were…strange.”

“My- what?” He sputters now, too suddenly, too loudly. He reaches up to touch slightly-trembling fingers to a closed eye, feeling the smooth bump of the cornea twitching beneath the thin skin of his eyelid as if he might be able to identify the damage that way. Why hadn’t she mentioned this earlier? Why bring it up now? “What do you mean, ‘strange’?!”

There’s a slight, panicked edge to his voice that he hopes no one catches, but this was the first time he heard that there could be physical evidence to his affliction. “It was a bit hard to test without the proper tools, but I noticed that they do not react much to changes in light.” Ogami explains. “The shape is also slightly…off. If I had to describe it, I would say that there is…a warping around the edges.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?!”

“I assumed it was either due to the head injury, or, it was genetic.” There’s an apologetic note to her words. “Given your usual behavior, I…didn’t think it was important.”

Not important. As if she could know what was important here.

“I. Am not. Blind.” He snarls stiffly. “Obviously, I have never taken a close enough look at my own pupils to notice that deformation, but it has never affected my daily life. I am not disabled, nor have I ever been.”

“I find it hard to believe that you have never been aware of it.” Kyoko remarks, tone clipped. “I can’t imagine someone of your status being ignorant of anything concerning your physical health.”

“Then you can rest easy knowing that I am perfectly healthy.” He snaps back, venom flying off his words.

Distantly, he knows that he is digging a pit for himself. That admitting to this would help clear him of any suspicion at all. But he doesn’t care; he would rather die than suffer such indignity. That was what he’s always known, taught by his butler, and then reinforced by all his surroundings afterwards, his siblings, his father - better to perish and let your enemies cry with relief and count themselves lucky, than let them mock you as you dig your own grave.

“You should just admit it already. You are drawing this out to be unnecessarily long, or would you rather doom us all?”

“I don’t see why I should cooperate with someone who has been making mindless accusations at me all this while.”

There’s a tense, snappish tension between him and Kirigiri. A livewire current. A piece of elastic stretched taut. He glares, and to him, her blurred form looks like that of a reared snake.

“Um…” Asahina speaks up, her hand tentatively raised. “If Byakuya’s really blind, can’t we just test it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I mean! Not saying that you are blind, or anything,” She says this quickly, carefully, like soothing a spooked horse. “But, we’re not going to get anywhere if you two just keep arguing back and forth, and it’ll be really quick! Like, Sakura, can you hold up a few fingers?” She complies silently, one arm remaining crossed across her chest, the other raised to her side. “How many is she holding up?”

He tries not to squint, but he has no idea. Two? Three? It's nothing more that a blurred, brown shape. “You can’t be serious.” He almost laughs, but the sound he makes is derisive and bitter.

“Y-yes, this is-! Unfair!” Now it’s Yamada, speaking up again. “In case no one else has noticed, Mister Togami is lacking his spectacles! Asking such a thing of him…it’s akin to bullying!”

He’s oddly assertive about this, and Byakuya watches as he pushes his own glasses a little higher. For some reason, being considered something of an equal by Yamada irritates him further. “Shut up.” Who asked for his help.

“Yes, be still please,” Celeste sighs dismissively. “We are playing a game with our lives. This is hardly the time to be discussing moralistic issues.” There’s a slight metallic tap as she raps her silver finger guards against her rings. “But you do make a point. Byakuya does not have his glasses at the moment. It would be difficult to try and confirm anything without them.”

Thank goodness for those with common sense. He doesn’t look to his side, where she was standing, but he swears that he can see her eyes glancing at him, the unnatural red of her pupils bright on her pale face. “Yes,” he agrees, seizing upon it. “And they were broken earlier, thanks to Owada. Nearsightedness runs on my mother’s side, and the former Togami head was farsighted. I will admit that much, is that what you wanted? Kyoko?”

He’s rambling. He’s aware of it. But there are a few nods exchanged, and Asahina scratches at the back of her head awkwardly, as if embarrassed. Kirigiri, however, is still unmoved.

“No. When I say you are blind, I do not mean without your glasses. Or there wouldn’t have been a point in bringing it up in the first place.” Kirigiri shifts her weight slightly, the sway of her stance accompanied by the creak of wood. “Even without your glasses, you cannot do tasks such as reading. I imagine you’ve managed everything else by means of careful practice, but this is the one thing you can’t manage on your own.”

“Hey, Kyoko-” Makoto looks nervous, unsure whether to face him or her. “That-”

“And how do you plan to prove this?” Byakuya snarls. He feels a small flare of triumph, even despite everything, the looming threat of death. “As we found before, I don’t have my glasses. Did you happen to pick those up as well? Did you repair them for me while you were at it?”

Instead of offering a retort, or any sort of reply, she sighs. A soft, tired sound.

“Makoto.” She isn’t facing the other boy, but her tone is firm as she addresses him, and a little exasperated. She doesn’t say anything more, but Makoto seems to understand, and his hands drop to his sides.

“There is a way to prove it.” His voice is quiet. Quiet, and…sad, somehow. Defeated. “Byakuya…please show us your handbook.”

The realization sets in slowly. He’s already been betrayed by Makoto twice now, but still, he finds himself stunned, slack-jawed. This one was the worst by far - not only was he actively helping Kirigiri, he was betraying Chihiro as well, risking revealing everything to that accursed bear. And after all the lengths Byakuya had gone through to protect this secret.

“What are you saying,” He says, and his voice has a humiliating tremor that matches how his hands shake, clutching at the rail. Surely, he’s heard wrong. Surely, Makoto would correct himself, take it back-

“Your handbook. Chihiro, he…he put a program on it that lets you be able to do stuff like tell the time. It also reads stuff aloud. And he did it after the motives got revealed, that night when Celeste saw you guys leaving the bathhouse.” He sounds so somber, so sad and grieving. He won’t meet Byakuya’s eyes. “He did it in exchange for you teaching him how to be strong, and self-confident - which you did, by telling him to go around talking to everyone else today.”

Without really thinking about it, his hand goes to his inner jacket pocket, where his handbook sits. His fingers close around the little device, the hard edges of plastic and metal pressing into the creases of his palm. He feels a little like he’s been shot.

But he doesn’t bring it out. He glares instead, furiously, hatefully, at the boy standing just meters away. He - and Kirigiri too, most likely, Byakuya suspected that Makoto had already revealed everything that that woman - knew perfectly well the importance of Alter Ego, and why it could not, under any circumstances, be revealed. And they knew Byakuya was aware of this too, and they were holding this fact hostage, over his head.

(I could, some sore, beaten part of him thinks with poisonous intent, try and claim responsibility for Chihiro’s murder. I could say that they’re wrong. That I lured Chihiro to the bathhouse with the intent of making him less wary, easier to isolate. That he was so weak and trusting and stupid that killing him was a simple manner. That I mimicked Syo’s modus operandi to throw suspicion off of me.)

The mere thought was shameful, but it was his pride, wounded and bitter, that was seriously considering it, if only for some semblance of control. The barest reassurance that he had any real weight at all in this trial. And all he would need to do is open his mouth and say the words.

But instead, he bites down on his inner cheek, hard enough for blood to trickle out the corner of his mouth, hard enough for the pain to rival the buzzing in his temples. And tightens his grip momentarily, just enough to feel the faint, humming warmth of the handbook against his sweating palm, and exhales slowly.

“...Fine. Fine.” He spits, angry, defeated, exhausted. He’s sick of this. He just wants it to be over. “Yes. I’m blind. I have been so since we first woke up in this school. Are you happy now?”

Makoto looks down, his face shadowed by his hair. Kirigiri tilts her head slightly, a motion that’s not quite a nod but more of a bow.

“Wait, so then-” Asahina’s voice, confused and a little hesitant, pipes up. “If you’ve been…y’know, this whole time, but only after we got to this school…does that mean the Mastermind did this to you, somehow?”

“That’s what I would like to know, myself.” He turns to look at Monokuma, and finds the bear lounging across its throne, a bucket of popcorn resting precariously on the armrest. The repugnant toy giggles, and swings itself upright, spilling a handful of white puffs all over.

“Gosh, I wonder?” The thing taps at its chin, voice taking on a wondering tone. “Of course, I want this game to be fair and give you all a level playing field. I believe in equality after all! …Though this has made for so many entertaining developments, so…I figured I’d leave it as is. Besides, you’ve adapted quite well, haven’t you Mister Togami?” It cackles, paws clutching at its belly. “GIven how well you did hiding it from everyone, I think it’s fine if we leave it like this, don’t you think?”

He wants to cross the courtroom and throttle the stupid thing this instant. All he can do is glare murderously, lips twisted into a snarl.

There’s a sharp clap that has most people jumping. The source of the sound is Kirigiri, whose hands are raised, and pressed together. “Let’s move on.” Her voice is firm, with no room for arguing. “All we’ve done so far is clear one person’s innocence. We still need to identify the real killer.”

And that was it. The most disgusting moment of his life, over just like that, ended by her words. He knows that there’s bound to be some kind of punishment in store for those who interrupt trials, but he briefly wonders if he can get his hands around her neck before Monokuma can react.

Owada jerks at Kirigiri’s words, startled out of his own stunned silence. “W-wait,” He sounds panicked now, and of course he would be. His scapegoat is gone. “Then, if it’s not Byakuya, then who…?”

“Let’s consider what we know. Given how it’s not clear where the murder took place, it would have to be someone who had access to cleaning supplies or water, and has no alibi that can be verified when the murder occurred. For the most part, everyone here has an alibi that can be supported by at least one other person, but there are some that do not.” Kirigiri lists these calmly, and Byakuya imagines her cold gaze, flitting between each person in the room. “Mondo. Do you care to explain what you were doing prior to the body’s discovery?”

The effect is immediate. The other boy rears up, instantly furious. “The fuck are you trying to say? That I’m a murderer?!” He thunders. “Like I said earlier, I was taking care of my bro. You know that. Everyone knows that!”

“As you said earlier, Taka is currently compromised. He can’t give a testimony.” She shoots back without hesitation. “Your alibi is flawed.”

“Yeah? Well - well so’s yours!” He sputters. “Like- Syo might’ve been the one to find you in the bathroom, but that was just before Chihiro was found. Toko can’t say that you weren’t there the whole time, a-and even if you were, maybe the bathroom was where Chihiro died anyways!”

Owada may be stupid, but credit where credit was due, he was surprisingly quick to retort and pick at Kirigiri’s excuse. “I could not have cleaned up a murder scene in the bathroom so spotlessly in the time between Chihiro’s last sighting and the body discovery. As Makoto described earlier, the sinks of the bathroom were all dry-”

“There was that sheet, you could’ve used that before smashing Chihiro’s head over it. And there’s water in the toilets, right? And the girl’s bathroom was right next door!”

“...I’ll commend you for recognizing my perseverance. But I did not kill Chihiro.” She shakes her head. “If the only thing that will clear me is secondhand support to my alibi, then the only thing that needs to be done is to ask a witness. Toko?”

And she addresses Syo now, who just cocks her head for a moment, and shrugs. “I keep sayin’ to you guys, it’s lights out up there. There’s no telling when she’ll be back!”

Byakuya has had enough.

“Toko,” He says first, his voice low and hissing. Then, louder, building into a shout: “TOKO. Come out, NOW!”

“I don’t think it works like tha-” Syo’s words are cut off suddenly, and she collapses where she stands, like a puppet with her strings cut.

< previous - from start - next >

[dootznbootz]

I'm technically most likely demiromantic (definitely demisexual) which is technically on the aro spectrum but I'm sooooo romance favorable that it almost doesn't feel like it counts????

I'm a huge romantic sap but I'm kind of funky with crushes. I have them and I get them but I'm very particular and I almost have... control over them???

Like when I start to feel the feelings™, I then start looking at a possible relationship through "logic lens".

"Compatible here, there, there too. Okay, we're not with that though, and I will not move on that so therefore it will not work. Alright, cool! Best friend! Best friend! Best friend!"

I can just shut off the feelings™ once I get the feeling it's not gonna work, especially if it's on something I will not change. If I have a feeling there's potential, I let feelings "grow".

[hella1975]

not someone commenting on tams to tell me to update taob. what if you fucked off forever

[afniel]

Maaaaaaaaaaaan, come on.

(the post has ended up in the tags btw. I am not changing this and I need you to understand that it is just me talking to myself semi-publicly)

[poisonouspastels]

[anxiously-sidequesting]

the only reason why I dont post more about gretta darkkettle is because then I'd actually get Serious on here

[bijoumikhawal]

I'm thinking again about how much it annoys me when fics make Parmak a follower of the Oralian Way and Garak a scornful atheist when the material they draw on for that characterization portrays Garak as religious and as this being apart of his heritage- and connects Parmak to the Oralian Way in no way whatsoever. Aside from my general feelings about Hebitians and class in Cardassian society it makes my eye twitch because it almost feels like its implying they're like this because of their respective moralities and implying religious people are inherently good and kind and atheists are... whatever you want to call Garak... is pretty fucked.