#Clipping Path Excel

[ladykailitha]

Forever Young Part 1

Hello, my lovies! I'm on with yet another AU! I can't stop, won't stop until I'm dead. The ideas just keep coming.

This was supposed to be lighthearted and funny aaannndd it got hit by the angst train HARD! Like that meme with the bus on the tracks and getting hit by the train? Yeah, that's this fic in a nutshell. It seems I can't write Steve without exploring his childhood and for me that's always going to be a traumatic thing.

Summary: Dustin sneaks into Steve's house to try and convince him to take him to Indy, but when he walks into his bedroom, Steve isn't there. Or rather the Steve Harrington he knows and loves. For hiding in the closet is a scared five year old claiming to be his friend. Then news starts coming in from Will and Mike, Nancy and Jonathan have been changed into kids too. Robin and Eddie make the full set, so the six younger teens have balance watching kids and finding out how to reverse it. And what happens if they can't find the cure in time?

~

Look, Dustin knew he shouldn’t be using the hide-a-key to break into Steve’s house, but he really needed to have Steve take him to Indy and if he just bundled him up and got him out the door with shoes on his feet and keys and wallet in hand it was easier to get him to agree to such a long drive.

So he looked around to make sure no one was watching and then went straight for the third paving stone and lifted it up. He quickly worked free the key and set the stone back down.

He slipped into the house and quickly scanned the house to make sure that Steve was in fact still sleeping. With being a former jock, there were times Steve would already be up and having gone for a run, and Dustin would be stymied for the day.

But there was no coffee brewing, no shoes by the door and no Steve on the ground floor. Dustin rubbed his hands together. Excellent.

He snuck up the stairs and threw open the door to startle Steve awake.

Only Steve wasn’t there. The bed was clearly slept in and the car was still in the driveway. Had he gone on a run and just wasn’t back yet?

Then he heard sniffles coming from the closet. Dustin frowned and walked toward it carefully. He opened the door and suddenly had to duck a shoe being thrown at his head.

“Ow!” he cried when it clipped his shoulder. “What the fuck Steve?” But the person in front of him was not Steve. It was some five year old kid looking up at him in absolute terror.

“Who are you?” Dustin hissed, bending over to pick up the shoe. “And what are you doing in Steve’s house?”

“I’m Steve!” the boy insisted. “But this is not my house! I woke up in this room with clothes that were too big for me and no one was home and I’m scared.”

Dustin blinked down at the child for a moment as he tried to think about when Steve moved to Hawkins and what his parents names were. “So where do you live?”

The little boy looked him in the eye with tears welling up and his lip quivering. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

Dustin worked his mouth, but no words came out. Because the kid was right. He wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. “I’m Dustin. I’m just trying to find your mom. Can you tell me your mom’s name?”

Little Steve looked up at him skeptically and then frowned. “You’ll help me find her?” Dustin nodded. “Her name is Maureen Harrington, my daddy’s name is Clint.” His face lit up. “I know my phone number. Maybe I can call home!”

“Like ET!” Dustin cried. “ET phone home!” But the kid stared him in confusion. “What, you’ve never seen ET! Like it’s awesome!”

Little Steve shook his head. “Like can I use the phone now?”

“Uh...” Dustin hedged. “I guess. Steve keeps a phone in his bedroom. It should be on his desk.”

Little Steve crawled out of the closet and eyed Dustin warily as he passed. Dustin followed the little boy’s path with his eyes as the kid picked up the phone. Immediately it went a busy signal, the sound loud in the quiet of the early morning.

Little Steve looked at the time and then back at the phone in his hand. “Daddy won’t be up for another half hour and Mommy never gets up before ten, why is the phone busy.”

Dustin’s brain finally caught up with everything the kid had said since he opened the door to the closet. Clint and Maureen Harrington. Living in Indy. The line being busy.

“Holy shit!”

Steve turned around with the phone in his hand. “Mommy says that’s a bad word, but Daddy says it all the time.”

Dustin ran through all the possibilities in his head. “It’s Occam’s Razor or to quote Sherlock Holmes: ‘When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'”

“You’re weird.”

“Oh, kid you have no idea,” Dustin said solemnly. “You have no idea. But I have to get ahold of some friends and pray to whatever deity is out there that you’re an isolated incident.”

“What’s ice oh lated innocent?” Little Steve asked, cocking his head to the side.

Dustin sighed. “And there it is.” That stupid little head tilt Steve did when he was confused about something. Fuuuuckk. “It means a one off. Something that happened one time.”

Steve frowned but said nothing, so Dustin took it as confirmation he understood, because he was about to panic. He started searching the room, until he found what he was looking for. Steve’s walkie talkie.

“Lucas, Mike, Will,” Dustin hissed into the device. “Come in. Code...” he looked over at Little Steve staring up at him in wide-eyed innocence. “Code Red. Come in, over.”

All three of his friends immediately came on and sound off that they were there.

“What’s the Code Red, over?” Mike asked once everyone had sounded off.

“Steve is a literal child,” Dustin said, breathlessly. “As in he went to bed a nineteen year old man and now he’s four-ish.” He waved his hand back and forth with a grimace.

“Hey!” Little Steve protested, clenching his little fists and stomping his foot. “I’m five! I’m not some baby!”

Dustin looked over at him and his eyebrows shot up. “That’s new.” Then into the walkie talkie he said. “I’m also making sure Steve’s the only one we have this problem with.”

There was silence on the line for a beat or two before Mike and Will hissed out, “Shit!”

“Why does everyone get to swear but me?” Steve pouted, sitting on the bed and crossing his arms. He glared up at Dustin, who just rolled his eyes.

Dustin let out a pained sigh and wondered how much he should tell him.

“Uh...” Lucas said into the walkie, “but I’m guessing if Mike and Will come back with a yes their older siblings are in fact small children, someone should check up on Robin and Eddie? Over.”

Dustin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, but I don’t know how we’re going to get there. None of us drive and Joyce and Hopper are out of town, over.”

“Code Red!” Will shrieked. “Jonathan is a kid and he’s hiding from our dad, absolutely refusing to come out for anyone but Mom!”

Then Mike was crackling through the line, sounding already harried. “I now have two baby sisters and judging from the photos Mom keeps everywhere, I’d say Nancy is around four, which considering Holly is five, is just too weird, man. Over.”

“Well, fuck,” Dustin said bluntly. “Lucas was thinking that Robin and Eddie might be affected too.”

“What’s fuck?” Steve asked from the bed, looking a little too curious for Dustin’s nerves.

Dustin turned to the walkie talkie and just screamed: “HELP!”

~

Lucas managed to get everyone calmed down and it was decided that everyone meet up at Steve’s because there would be enough rooms for all of them to sleep in and they could keep it as quiet as possible. Especially since they didn’t didn’t know if this was Upside down related.

He also tried to Max to find Eddie and take him to her place before Wayne got home.

“No can do,” she replied. “He already knows and since we need someone to drive us around to get things for five four year olds as well as picking up Robin, it might as well be him.”

No one liked that plan, but what choice did they have when Wayne already knew his nephew was now a child?

They grudgingly agreed and allowed Wayne to ferry them all to Steve’s house, which he did so borrowing Eddie’s van.

Once they were all together (El had helped Jonathan come out from under the bed with her telepathy) Wayne patted Dustin on the shoulder.

“I have to go to work,” he said sternly. “I am trusting you older kids to take care of your friends. As best as we can tell they don’t have their adult memories, but if they do start to return, it will probably come in the form of nightmares.”

Mike and Lucas shared a glance. They knew. Night terrors were just a part of kids’ life at that age. They nodded.

“All right,” Wayne said with a sigh. “I’ll try and stop by Melvin’s on the way home for like food and stuff. The main thing they need right now are clothes that fit. The girls will be easy because they can borrow Holly’s things. But the boys are going to be tough unless your parents saved any of your clothes from that age.”

The four boys looked over at Steve, Jonathan, and Eddie all in clothes that were positively drowning them.

Dustin turned back to Wayne. “Even if my Ma did save my shit, they wouldn’t fit any of them. They’re all skinny!”

“Shit,” Eddie repeated with a giggle. “That’s a funny word.”

Wayne snorted. “Yes it is, but what did I say at the trailer, boy?”

Eddie looked up at Wayne, wide-eyed, almost as if he had forgotten he was there. “Swears are big people words.” He frowned for a moment. “But they say swears.” He pointed at Dustin specifically to Wayne’s utter delight.

Wayne just shook his head. “I can’t help it if their mama never raised them right.”

“You take that back!” Dustin cried. “My Ma is the best!” He put his hands on his hips.

Wayne just raised an eyebrow and ruffled Dustin’s hair. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ve left the number to the plant on the fridge. When you call ask for Bill and then have Bill come get me. Anyone else and they’re gonna laugh in your face.”

“Aye, aye!” Lucas said brightly. “Hopefully we’ll be fine. We’ve already told our parents we’re having a movie night sleepover and to not expect us home tonight.”

“That still leaves what happens if this doesn’t resolve itself by tomorrow,” Mike groused. “But if it does, we have someone else we can call.”

El made a face. “I do not trust Dr. Owens,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

Mike rubbed her arm gently. “I know, but if it is Upside Down related, maybe he can help, okay?”

El nodded, but Wayne could see she didn’t like the idea. Wayne wasn’t a fan of the man himself, if he was being honest. Anyone who would experiment on children, no matter how nice they appeared was not someone to be trusted.

“Last resort only,” Wayne said with a nod. Then he said his goodbyes and left for work.

Dustin ran his hands over his face and groaned. “I don’t know how to talk to kids that age. I’m an only child.”

Lucas shrugged. “It’s not that difficult really. You just have to keep them fed, make sure they nap, and give them things to do. We’ll want to avoid the back though. Because I don’t how many of them would know how to swim at this stage.”

Steve was probably a good bet that he knew how to swim, Nancy too. But the other three? That was up in the air.

“So keep them away from the back, feed them, make sure they get enough sleep and try not kill them in the mean time?” Will asked, his voice high with concern.

“Pretty much,” Mike assured him. “There are more of us then there are of them, we should be fine.”

Max raised her hand slowly. “Uh, guys...um. I hate to ask but has anyone seen Steve?”

Dustin whirled around and quickly did a head count. Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan were all playing with a ball in the corner and Eddie had found a marker and was drawing on himself.

But Steve was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit!”

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Cliffhanger!!! Bwahahaha!!!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[xoxoaugust]

at the first glance

prince!reo mikage x lady!reader

(Alludes to Bridgerton-esque themes mostly bc of the time period)

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Time has passed since this author has put pen to paper, but I promise the story I am about to tell you is worth the wait.

Barely friends since childhood, the young prince and the young lady reunite. Lingering stares were simple the beginning of what was to be a grand romance. A romance full of anger, sorrows, and most of all, love.

How does one outrun fate? Do they abandon all they’ve ever known? Defy every rule set in stone? Or do they simply choose the next path?

Prince Reo Mikage, the firstborn son of the Mikages. The heir to the throne. Women threw themselves onto him, likely for the title, money, fame perhaps, but his looks certainly helped. He knew, and that is why, even at the age of twenty and three, he is yet to be wed. People may call it ego or pride, but that could not be further from the true reason.

Being the firstborn, Reo Mikage was always expected to be the best. Second place was not a choice, nor was it even in the picture. Top of his class, excelled in every subject, played as captain on the football team at his prep academy, and now waiting for his title.

He hated it.

What a boring life.

Little did he know, everything would change by nightfall.

The transition between girl to woman, then lady is not for the faint of heart. Hours spent choosing the right dress, the right way to lay your hair, the poise, the particular laugh—not too loud but loud enough to make a man feel good—and the “just-right” smile that felt simply comforting. It can and will wash away at any kind of true feeling.

You, the firstborn of four children, one brother and two sisters, destined to marry a rich man and make all the other ladies even more jealous. Top of your class, excelled in every subject, deemed a role model.

The perfect girl, born to be a lady, or so everyone thinks. Sure, you may be the labeled as the picture perfect wife, but marriage was not your desire. Refusing marriage was not a guise to feel different or progressive, rather you wanted a life of your own. Your inheritance was enough for you and three generations forward to last with fulfilling lives. So, here you are, at the age of twenty and one, still unmarried, how horrid.

So, how did the pretentious young soon-to-be king and the wasted potential soon-to-be spinster curate a love story for the ages?

Fate.

Queen Mikage, the woman she is.

Hosting the first ball of the season, as she does every season.

Girls and their mothers running to the seamstresses to meticulously select the dress that will best capture a lord, or maybe even a prince. Your mother was one of them. Running around dressing your two younger sisters, Kiyoko sixteen, and Koyuki seventeen.

You watch as she picks which color best suits the tone of their skin, what style of hair best suits the dress, and what jewels stand out.

You on the other hand, watching, still in your nightgown.

“[name], you ought to get dressed! It is not two hours before the ball. I cannot have you looking like a mess!” Your mother lightly scolded.

You sighed and nodded before stretching your arms and walking back to your room. You looked into your closet, eyeing which dress would likely look effortless.

Bingo.

You usually have your maid, Charlotte, dressing you, however, you requested otherwise, it was not like you still a child. You allowed for their help since they insisted helping you with the jewelry.

“My lady, would this be of your taste?”

Charlotte holds up the dark amethyst necklace, one large violet stone in the middle, then slowly getting smaller going back and lined with diamonds. You nodded as she clipped the necklace into place and put on the matching set of earrings and a bracelet.

The jewelry matched your dress perfectly.

The dress was dark blue-purple with a slight train, sleeves slightly puffed, and lilac lace embroidery all over the dress.

“Mama! How long must you take? It has been an hour!” You exclaimed out into the echoey hallways. As you spoke, your father and your brother walk out of the study.

Your father stares at you, then to the door you were calling to.

“Still not ready?” He sighs.

“Not even close.” You laugh

“Oh dear god.” Your brother breathily laughs.

You and your father, while not exactly the most communicative, felt at ease with one another even in silence. He wasn’t the typical man, and you knew. He didn’t mind you not getting married, in response, he taught you how to be independent. He was willing to increase your inheritance, but even with the current amount, you would have no issue with finance. From an outsiders view, you could be considered an atypical family. The men were more feminine, teaching the girls business instead of simply sending them off for marriage. It was out of the ordinary, but your family was bonded in ways a regular person could never understand.

When your mother was finally done preparing your sisters, the carriage took off, heading for the palace.

The carriage ride was…interesting. Your sisters checking the hand mirror at least a dozen time per minute. You and your brother glance at each other before snorting under your breath.

Your twin brother, Chigiri Hyoma, you two had always gotten along, he had always been on the more feminine side, of course having three sisters would do the trick. He was a bit rough around the edges, short-tempered at times, a bit audacious too. Nonetheless, he was a kind boy, always looking out for your younger sisters Koyuki and Kiyoko.

As the carriage arrived at the palace ballroom entrance, you let out a sigh of an acceptance. Acceptance that this was going to be the most boring night of your life.

Koyuki and Kiyoko rustled out the carriage, fixing their dresses before walking up to the entrance gracefully alongside your mother. You and Hyoma entered the hall together, passing knowing looks. You ended up following Hyoma to his group since your friend Anri hadn’t shown up yet.

Walking over, you’re met with many familiar faces. Faces seen rolling around in the dirt playing football as children, faces now matured. As you approached, the five other boys men looked up to greet you with welcoming smiles.

As children, Hyoma and his friends were inseparable, still inseparable even now. This often meant that they were always playing in your family estate. Football, rugby, pall-mall occasionally, you had always been there.

Though you never participated in the activities, since that would just be unladylike, you would simply converse with the group.

And by converse I mean gossip.

Out of his six friends, the one who had always listened to what you had to say was Kunigami Rensuke.

A kind young man, bright orange hair now faded to a deep bronze, chiseled facial structure, sturdy tall build and very chivalrous. He always had a strong sense of justice, there was a period in time where he became cold and abrasive, but he eventually had returned to his normal sweet self. Out of the five boys, you liked him the most. Hyoma and Rensuke were the best of friends, thus why you were also close to him.

The next one in the group: Isagi Yoichi, the one who brought them all together. He was the glue that held everyone together, he was the one who had built this group, in a sense. All the boys had passion for football, and Yoichi was always there to push them forward, in a supportive and extremely competitive way. He was more delicate. Round eyes and cheeks, sturdy but slim and shorter, and dark features.

Bachira Meguru, the playful one. Short, sweet, and very energetic. You had always liked him, you had always thought he was too hyper for his own good. Though he was your age, he had always looked up to you. He thought you were admirable and wise, always immersed in your conversation, when he’s not distracted by something or falling asleep.

Rin Itoshi, the stoic one. Rin had always been quiet and simple. You had always appreciated his presence, his conversation was never considered time wasted. He was tall, slime but strong, dark handsome features and prominent lashes. You understood him quite well. Though you weren’t close, you know that his cold demeanor was a facade. A shield. He was kind, gentle, and considerate when needed to be.

Nagi Seishiro, the lazy one. You never understood this strange gentleman. He was tall, sturdy, and had white locks and curious eyes. He was a strange boy, kind but unbelievably sluggish. Lazy and unmotivated, but still, an adorable soul regardless of his…tendencies to do absolutely nothing, but sleeping.

Only five of the six boys were presented in front of you, the sixth was missing, and for obvious reasons.

For the next half hour, you simply talked and talked, catching up with all of them, it had been a year since you last saw them. Life had gotten busy.

Deep in conversations with old friends, you failed to sense the presence behind you.

Nagi looks up, eyes widening before speaking (for the first time all night).

“Wow, Reo I did not expect you to be here.” Nagi deadpanned, not in a mean way, but just unbothered.

Your shoulder hitch up, before turning around to meet Reo’s eyes, just to see him already staring right at you.

Reo Mikage, the prince. You did not have anything else to call him, because he was always dragged out of the hangouts. You maybe had a few interactions, a few shared laughs but you hadn’t seen him in years. Seven years to be exact. You remembered his purple hair, and that he was very close to Nagi. You honestly did not care much for him, he was always pulled away for piano practice or some kind of princely activities. You didn’t know him at all.

He steps over to the spot right in between you and Kunigami.

“Well of course I would be here, this is my home.” He laughed in such a genuine manner.

“Well you have not shown up for the last ten balls that her majesty has hosted, and they were all in this very room.” Hyoma joked.

Reo laughs while looking down at the ground, then he looks up and over to you.

“Wow, it has been a while, I have not seen you in ages!” He exclaimed, while his eyes wandered upon you in an unsubtle manner.

You noticed the glance he gave you, and you laughed a bit to yourself before responding with

“I could say the same thing for you, your royal highness.” You stated, slight sarcasm laced in your words while you did a playful curtsy, eliciting a laugh from Reo and the others.

You had always known that Reo was like a magnet, attracting people towards him with an infallible force. His charismatic and welcoming nature did not fail to impress, and it certainly had impressed you.

The entire night, you had felt his presence. Watching you, observing every little detail. You had not a clue as to why he was so intrigued by your existence, but it was starting to get a bit awkward.

As you stepped onto the dance floor once again, you felt a presence behind you.

“May I have this dance?”

Oh dear god.

xoxo, august

an: this is the first part to the “I wanna be yours” series, this part is kinda buns but I promise it will get better

LOVE YALL

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Can I ask for Untitled 3? (I'm not tagged just curious)

oh, excellent choice. this one has layers

so this was a little diddy i came up with @lunart-ce (check out their stuff i love the game changer vids they have) and we were thinking up what game changer clips would work well with which op characters for funsies. and this resulted me in having the best idea anyone probably had ever, too bad i didnt have to motivation to see it out.

So i was thinking up a situation where Garp wanted to fuck with his grandsons because they didnt follow down the path of becoming marines, so he invites them to his game show.

The idea sounded fun enough and he promised to not try to recruit or capture them whilst they were there so the three brothers hopped along to play some silly little games with their gramps.

One of the games garp would play with them is the Sam Says episode with all three brothers, and the other would be the yes or no episode with just Sabo, but with koby and helmeppoas the other two contestants.

in both the games sabo would "be" brennan, luffy would be izzy, ace would be Lou, helmeppo would be Zac, and koby would be Ally.

So basically garp would invite the brothers over so that they can all together play a game that they cannot win at unless they listen to everything that Garp tells them to do, and so that Sabo plays a game that he cannot physically win at at all.

heres the link to the sam says episode

and heres a link to the brennan lee mulligan monologue that my art references

thanks for the ask!

[mapsthewanderer]

Maps headcanons

The LADS boys

🐰 - Happy Easter edition

Details: 3000ish words of Egg Hunt Easter with the flower boys—because I wanted to write something with their flowers and, well, this is what happened. It’s adult fluff, steam, a lil smut, and probably 18+? with the amount of implied notinoti going on. Cute Caleb, slightly Dom!Sylus (yum), artsy horni Raf, Dom!Xav absolutely ruining me (sorry Xav fans), and Zayne being sultry, smart, Dom-coded excellence. I went overboard again. Oops.

🧡Caleb

The egg hunt takes place in the garden of his home in Skyhaven—quiet, serene, all stone paths and soft grass, the scent of earth and spring carried on a gentle breeze. Crabapple blossoms drift lazily through the air, catching in your hair like confetti from another life.

Everything about the space feels familiar—not just because it’s beautiful, but because it’s a near-perfect replica of the garden you grew up in. Every path, every bloom, laid out with uncanny care. And you know he did it all himself. No assistants. No drones. Just Caleb, probably humming to himself with dirt on his hands, and the memory of your childhood laughter guiding every stone he placed.

“You still like a challenge, don’t you?” he says, offering you a woven basket with a wink. There’s dirt smudged across one cheek, and he’s never looked more boyish.

“Okey, Pip-squeak. First one to count the most wins.”

You both know he’s going to lose.

Because he wants to.

Still, you play along—ducking behind flowering hedges, peeking beneath garden stones, pretending not to notice the telltale red glint tucked exactly where you’d always go looking.

You find it just as the sun starts to dip, washing the whole garden in gold. Nestled under a soft cluster of fallen petals: a deep red egg, glossy and weighty. You lift it carefully. No rattle. No sound. Just a steady warmth in your chest, like something old coming home.

When it’s over, he tallies the numbers with a theatrical frown, counting aloud on his fingers like he’s never done math before.

“Well, well… looks like you win again,” he sighs, nudging your hip with his. “Unbelievable. I’m filing for a recount.”

You just roll your eyes. “Sure you are.”

Then you open the red egg.

Inside, cushioned in black velvet, is a small golden apple. Not a trinket. It’s heavy in your palm, warm from the sun. You twist it open.

Inside the apple:

A slim gold bracelet, delicate but sturdy, engraved with tiny crabapple blossoms that wind across the band like they’ve always belonged there.

Hanging from the chain is a small apple-shaped charm, a golden mirror of the one Caleb wears around his neck. On its underside, nearly hidden: a series of engraved coordinates. You don’t need to check. You know exactly what they mark. Your childhood home.

He stands behind you, arms sliding around your waist as he carefully fastens the bracelet on your wrist, fingers steady as they work the tiny clips. His chin settles on your shoulder, grounding you like he always has.

“I wanted you to find it on your own,” he says softly, lips brushing your hair.

You glance back, teasing. “And if I hadn’t?”

He hums a little laugh. “Then I would’ve kept it. Maybe worn it myself. Started a rumor. You know. Something casual.”

But then he leans in, closer—his voice low and thick with affection, a little smug and a little breathless.

“Happy Easter, Pip-squeak.”

You turn to meet his eyes—and he’s already looking at you like you hung every star in Skyhaven. Like you’ve always been the only thing he’s ever reached for.

His fingers graze your wrist, then trail down your arm to the small of your back, drawing you in until your hips brush. He plays with the chain around his neck—

“Hmm… I lost,” he murmurs, voice dipping low, almost a growl. “But I still walked away with the runner-up prize.”

His hand slides to your hip, eyes gleaming. “Think I’ll unwrap it now.”

Your breath stutters.

He watches you—eyes hungry, hands patient—and when he finally leans in, his lips press to yours in a kiss that says I know what I have, and I’ll never let go.

Because Caleb doesn’t only take what’s his.

He treasures it.

And you? You’ve always been the ultimate prize.

——————————————————————————

❤️Sylus

It starts with a vinyl playing in his penthouse.

Something sultry. Vintage. The kind of music that clings to your skin like smoke. The lights are low, the curtains open just enough to show the city spread out beneath him—like it’s his to command.

The air smells like burning cedar and something darker—like ozone just before a storm.

You step inside and find him shirtless in his boxing tank, hands still taped, sweat drying on his collarbone. He’s already pouring you a drink—of course he is.

Everything with Sylus begins before you know it has.

He doesn’t say anything about Easter. Not directly.

You set your glass down, and something shifts beneath it—too stiff, too smooth. Your fingers lift the base, and that’s when you see it: not a coaster, but a black envelope, edges crisp, the weight of it deliberate.

Sealed in red wax. Crow insignia glinting in the light.

You already know it’s for you.

Inside:

A slip of thick card stock. Heavy. Precise.

His handwriting slices across it like a blade:

You’ve got three minutes to find the egg. Don’t check the fridge. You’re not that lucky, kitten. —S.

You move through his penthouse like you’re casing it—carefully, efficiently, knowing better than to expect anything obvious. He watches you from the couch, legs spread, glass in hand.

You check the bookshelf—just paperbacks and dust. The organ bench is hollow, predictably empty. In the kitchen, you search cupboards, behind cans, above the fridge. The bedroom yields nothing: under the bed, inside drawers, the closet. Bathroom last—mirror, cabinet, even the toilet tank. Still nothing.

The record ticks on.

You find the egg in the base of his vintage turntable.

Where the vinyl weight should be.

Matte black. Big. Heavy. Cold.

You glance over your shoulder.

He’s perched lazily on the edge of the couch now, one brow lifted, smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Congratulations,” he says, amused. “I was starting to think I’d have to instruct you.”

Inside Sylus’s Egg:

A jet-black satin ribbon. The fabric is thick, lush, and expensively embroidered with a barely visible damura flower curling at one end, delicate as breath. A small tag attached reads: “Every leash needs a willing neck.”

And wrapped in dark silk: a vintage vinyl EP, hand-pressed. No label, just a single etched note: “To be played when you’re moaning.” You already know it’s not available anywhere else.

He stands as you open it, silent, slow. No need to rush. He takes the ribbon from your hands, brushing your fingers like he’s sampling the idea of your pulse.

“Do you know what I like about you?” he murmurs, voice like smoke curling against your skin.

You lift a brow. “My charm?”

He smiles.

Sylus moves behind you, the egg forgotten, the vinyl humming low and lazy in the background. The ribbon tightens in his hand.

“You play the game,” he breathes into your ear, “knowing you’ll lose.”

His lips brush your neck.

“And you always look so damn good doing it.”

He loops the satin around your throat—not tight. Just enough. Just enough to feel. Just enough to claim.

His other hand slides down your side, resting at the dip of your waist.

“You gonna behave tonight?” he asks, voice dipped in velvet and teeth.

You whisper “no,” breath shaky.

He laughs—low, wicked, fond.

“Good kitten.”

The ribbon tightens.

The record skips once.

He pulls back just enough to look at you—really look at you—with that lazy, hungry grin, red eyes half-lidded and glowing faintly under the dim light.

“Let me guess,” he murmurs, fingers brushing the knot at your throat. “You thought the egg was the gift?”

He tilts your chin up, gaze sharp. His fingers trail down your spine like a blade drawn slow—and his mouth is already descending again, sharp with want.

And Sylus kisses you like he already knows how this track ends:

You.

On your knees.

His name in your mouth.

——————————————————————————

🩷 Xavier

You find it on your pillow, perfectly centered.

No ribbon. No note. Just a soft blue egg, smooth and faintly cool to the touch. The exact shade of the forget-me-nots blooming on your windowsill—the ones he brought you without a word two weeks ago.

You pick it up. It’s heavier than it looks.

And when you look up, Xavier is already in the doorway. Holding a bag of takeout in one hand and chewing slowly on a piece of meat he’s stolen from your box.

His shirt is rumpled, belt undone like he forgot to finish dressing halfway through a thought. His expression is unreadable. Calm.

“You found it,” he says, like he’s stating a fact about the weather.

He crosses the room, sits cross-legged at the end of the bed, and waits. For you to open it. For you to understand.

Inside Xavier’s Egg:

A pair of soft white bunny ears, wired just enough to be bent whichever way he wants. Light. Gentle. Deceptively innocent.

A tiny note, folded once. You recognize the handwriting—he only writes when something matters. “Wear these. Or don’t. I’ll put them on for you 🐰” Small and almost shy: a hand-drawn little bunny face. The ears are uneven. One’s flopped. It’s… devastatingly Xavier.

And tucked in a lavender silk pouch: a small metal plug with a white faux-fur bunny tail. Not a joke. Not a suggestion.

You look up.

Xavier’s watching you without blinking. He licks the last bit of sauce from his thumb, slow and thoughtless.

“It’s not candy,” he murmurs.

Then his voice dips—lower, rougher. Not quite a whisper. Not quite safe.

“But I want you to have a taste of it anyway.”

You ask—half teasing—if he means the toy.

He tilts his head, but he doesn’t answer.

Later, you kneel at the edge of the bed, dressed only in your sleepwear—soft, minimal, clinging where the heat still lingers low in your belly. The white bunny ears rest atop your head, a quiet dare. The air is still—but charged. That Xavier kind of quiet, where you know he’s watching before you ever hear him move.

You think you’ve done it right.

“Do you like the ears?” you ask, trying to keep it playful.

He blinks slowly from where he leans against the wall, arms crossed. Still. Unreadable.

Then—

“Come here.”

You hesitate. You always do, just a second too long.

“Closer.” His voice lowers, quiet and sure.

You crawl forward until you’re between his knees.

He reaches into the silk pouch that came with the egg, draws out the toy—the bunny tail, glinting with silver and sin. He holds it up between two fingers like it weighs nothing, like it’s a question.

But it isn’t.

His eyes stay on yours as he brings it to your lips—not forceful, just… watching.

“Taste it for me,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth. He slides the cool base in, slow, and his thumb brushes your bottom lip as he does.

“Good,” Xavier says softly, voice warm with approval. “Now we can start.”

And just before stepping away, he crouches down in front of you, one hand braced on his knee, the other still gently cupping your jaw. He leans in, close enough to steal your breath, and presses a kiss to your temple—so soft it almost doesn’t happen.

“Happy Easter.”

——————————————————————————

💜 Rafayel

The egg isn’t hidden.

It’s displayed—placed—on the windowsill of his seaside studio, kissed by gold light and the occasional curious glance from the seagulls. It’s wrapped in soft linen, hand-painted with flame lilies curling along its curve in graceful strokes. His signature. Bold and intimate.

You pick it up. The linen slips through your fingers like water. It smells faintly of sea salt and roses—the scent that clings to his skin when he’s been painting shirtless with the windows open, salt-touched and glowing.

“You found it,” Rafayel says from behind you. His voice is light, casual, but his gaze? It’s locked on your hands. On the rise and fall of your breath. On every flicker of anticipation he engineered.

“I didn’t think you’d come looking so early, cutie.”

You glance over your shoulder. “You put it where I eat breakfast, Raf.”

He shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “I wanted it to catch the light.”

Liar.

Inside Rafayel’s Egg:

A delicate rose-gold chain, strung with a single opal that glows faintly with iridescent shimmer—not jewelry for going out. Jewelry for coming undone.

A pair of sheer white thigh-highs, soft and glimmering, trimmed in silk ribbon.

And folded like something secret: a tiny sketch of you. Posing. Wearing only the necklace and the stockings. His handwriting loops across the bottom like a sigh: “For reference.”

Your voice stumbles out, breath caught. “You drew that from… memory?”

He leans over you, breath hitching as he traces your neck.

“Noo,” he breathes, lips ghosting your skin. “I drew it from desire.”

His nose graze the curve of your neck.

“Put them on,” Rafayel whispers, voice tight. “The stockings. The necklace. Please, cutie…”

You say nothing. Just reach for the buttons of your blouse, slipping each one loose with slow precision. The fabric glides off your shoulders, down your arms, pooling at your feet. You let your skirt fall next—soft as a sigh.

Rafayel doesn’t speak. You feel the weight of his gaze like a brushstroke on bare skin.

You step into the stockings one at a time, smoothing them over your thighs with careful hands, ribbon trim snug against warm skin. The necklace follows—a shimmer of rose-gold and opal settling at the base of your throat.

You inhale. Turn.

And Rafayel is already there, trembling fingers holding something delicate and glinting between them.

A tiara. Sculpted in fine gold with gentle curves—peaks that mimic the shape of soft bunny ears.

“May I?” he asks.

You nod.

And as he sets it gently atop your head, his voice barely a breath against your lips:

“You always were… Perfect for me.”

His breath catches as he traces the opal pendant against your chest—like he can barely hold the want inside him.

His fingers drift along your thigh, barely skimming skin—but it’s enough. You shiver. Goosebumps rise like a ripple across a canvas.

“Cutie,” he murmurs, voice fraying at the edges, “you’re already trembling… and I haven’t even painted you yet.”

You reach for him, instinctive. He catches your wrist, brings it lower.

He groans.

“Please… Hold still,” he says, voice low and almost shaking.

You shift slightly, adjusting the stockings.

His breath catches. “Just like that.”

His eyes rake over you—slow, stunned, greedy in a way that makes your skin prickle.

“You don’t know what you look like right now, do you?” he whispers, more to himself than you. “God...”

He takes a step back and picks up a brush, though it trembles faintly in his hand—his gaze flicking from the canvas to the way the thigh-highs kiss your skin, to the tilt of the tiara resting delicately on your head.

“My perfect Easter bunny.” A pause. Then, half-laughing, flushed:

“Spring should be jealous of you, cutie,” he breathes, brush frozen midair. “You make the whole season feel like an afterthought.”

——————————————————————————

🩵 Zayne

You find it on the kitchen counter the morning after he stayed over.

A sleek white egg, tied with a silver ribbon and tucked carefully into your favorite porcelain teacup. Centered. Perfect. Clinical.

It’s so unlike him that you pause. But then again—Zayne doesn’t “do” cute.

Not unless he’s planning something.

Next to the egg, a folded sticky note. Neat handwriting. Not like a normal doctor’s scribble—Zayne’s penmanship is immaculate. Sharp. Controlled. Like he measures every letter before he lets it exist.

Don’t open it until after breakfast. —Zayne

So, naturally, you open it immediately.

Inside Zayne’s Egg:

A small tin of gourmet white chocolate, shaped like delicate jasmine blossoms. Pale, intricate, impossibly detailed. Impeccably made—and clearly not store-bought

And nestled at the very bottom: a pair of silken black bunny ears, smooth as a whisper, the fabric catching just enough light to shimmer like ink, and a handwritten note that reads: “Happy Easter. I don’t keep carrots in the house. Luckily, I know other ways to feed my bunny.”

Your breath catches. Heat flares in your chest—and lower.

You barely have time to reach for your phone before it buzzes.

ZAYNE: Knowing you, you opened it early. Of course you did. Put the ears on. I’m bringing dessert.

You’re wearing the ears when he walks in, precise as always—coat slung over one arm, gloves still on, expression unreadable.

He sets a small bakery box on the counter without a word. Removes his gloves. Unhurried.

“You didn’t follow instructions,” he says, as if logging it in your chart.

You start to reply—but he’s already in front of you. His hand comes to your throat. Not tight. Not rough. Just there—firm, like he’s checking your pulse through skin and heat.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, slow.

“You’re already worked up,” he murmurs, tilting your face up to his.

You nod. Small. Ashamed. Thrilled.

He exhales, deep and slow, like he’s letting go of restraint by degrees.

Then he steps back. Straightens his sleeves. His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing.

“If the bunny’s hungry,” he says, slipping his tie loose, “I’ll feed it properly.”

You move. Slowly. The ears still perched in your hair, the soft weight of his words coiling down your spine. When you lie back on the bed, heart racing, his eyes follow every shift of your body.

He steps closer. Calm. Silent.

Takes his time.

Then, while his fingers brush lightly along your thigh—barely grazing, just enough to make you twitch—

“You know,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on you, “those ears are a little misleading.”

You try to speak, breath hitching.

He leans in, voice smooth:

“Bunnies don’t usually make this much noise when they’re touched.”

You gasp. He smiles—barely. The kind of smile that means he’s already thinking ten steps ahead.

“But I suppose,” he breathes, pressing a kiss just behind your knee, “you’re a rare breed.”

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Happy egg hunt season, folks! I’m out here celebrating with totally imaginary egg hunts featuring the boiiis. I was lowkey hoping Infold would drop an egg hunt event, but alas—if you want eggs hidden, you gotta do it yourself. So I wrote it and added some spiiiice. Hope you enjoy my festive bois no matter who you main! Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[mirensiart]

I’d love to hear what you enjoyed about FE: Engage, if you cared to talk about it! I loved the older games (Awakening was so fun! The primary plot device is one of my fav tropes) but never enjoyed the pacing or boarding school setting of 3H enough to get into it so I’d kind of fallen out of touch with the fandom. I’ve been thinking of trying to find a copy of Engage, though! I miss the way FE does battles and making the silly little characters have their silly little heart-to-hearts. You think it’s worth it?

it is definitely worth it!

you see, fire emblem engage got so many critiques BECAUSE they decided to go back to classic fire emblem and leave behind the fire emblem 3 houses gameplay

i personally also didn't like fe3h's approach and i struggled playing that game, even if i do understand why people like it!

Fire Emblem Engage is an anniversary game, so as to celebrate the game's entire franchise there's a plot device called EMBLEM RINGS, if you wear an emblem ring you can summon the ghost version of another world's hero (aka the protag of another fe game) to help you and give you abilities during battle

these ghosts are called emblems! the emblem rings available to use and the old ghost characters you can summon are

1. marth (fire emblem shadow dragon)

2. celica (fire emblem gaiden)

3. sigurd (fire emblem genealogy of the holy war)

4. leif (fire emblem thracia 776)

5. lyn (fire emblem blazing blade)

6. roy (fire emblem binding blade)

7. eirika + ephraim (fire emblem sacred stones)

8. ike (fire emblem path of radiance)

9. micaiah (fire emblem radiant dawn)

10. lucina (fire emblem awakening)

11. corrin (fire emblem fates)

12. byleth (fire emblem 3 houses)

if you engage with an emblem, your souls merges with the ghost and for a couple turns you get the unique attacks from the fe protag you engaged with

here's a small gameplay clip!

you can see someone fighting with a marth ghost by their side, marth in that form gives you a boost stat but that's it

but like right after a character called celine engages with celica's ghost and they both combine into one and now celine has celica's tome from fire emblem gaiden and also now has a new ability which is to transport around the map!

ANYWAY the academy mechanic doesn't happen here, the plot is very simple, a fell dragon is back, it stole all the emblem rings BUT marth's so you start with one one, so you kinda have to find all the rings so the fell dragon won't do evil stuff

also, the avatar is a dragon themselves lmao so you play as a divine dragon!

anyway, the maps ????? and the gameplay??? EXCELLENT, i personally believe it's THE BEST in the franchise so far!

just don't expect political intrigue and betrayals and nuanced characters like in fire emblem 3 houses, this game is fun! this game is camp! and it knows it! the plot is very simple but it does the job!

people keep trying to compare it to fe3h when it's not, it's a whimsy fun anniversary game WITH AMAZING gameplay, not fe3h 2!

[lilxmoo]

Aurora Cycle Poetic Essay Series Pt 2 - Scarlett Jones

Part two is here :) my girl was quite hard to write for, but I love her so much more after this!!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Scarlett Isobel Jones has no mother. Neither does her twin, Tyler. But this is different for her, affects her more than it ever affects Tyler. Because her brother has their father. Tyler Jericho Jones was named after their father - Scarlett, as far as we know, was named after no one. Tyler had an image to lead him. Scarlett had nothing.

This results in Scarlett carving her own identity, away from any pre-perceived expectations. She dyes her hair, she makes her own friends, she finds solace and comfort in men and in her best friend, rather than old photos and medals. Scarlett has no metal ring around her neck, which, as mentioned in part one, represents Jericho Jones' legacy. Instead, she gets her own necklace, telling her to Go with Plan B. Scarlett has her own necklace, telling her to create a second path and follow it, rather than one that was pre-planned.

Surprisingly, her hair dye is symbolic of her carving her own path. Tyler is represented by colors of blue and yellow, sunshine and oceans. Blue eyes, blonde hair, same as Jericho. Scarlett has her blue eyes, connecting her to her family and her brother, a feature of herself that she can never erase, forever showing the bond between her and Tyler. But she has removed that gold. Instead, the bright, fiery red of her hair disguises herself. It is bright enough to distract from her face and her identity, to instead look at the colorful choices she makes. Scarlett builds herself on her actions, rather than her character, and she consistently expects the same of others.

Scarlett is afraid of herself and her roots. She does not feel clever, or helpful, or intelligent. She has deeply hidden insecurities and especially, she feels incredibly inadequate at all the skills Tyler excels at. But her journey follows her finding herself through helping others. Forging her own path through the process of helping those around her and reminding them of what is special about themselves, and her good graces finding her in return. Her constant searching and distraction from what ails her - her lack of "skill" - she tried to remedy through years of feeling connection through men. It is only once she is isolated from that comfort, once her best friend is dead, and once Tyler is gone, Scarlett is forced to look at her path instead of distracting herself from it. And by the end of her story, her mind is not the yellow of Tyler's, or the yellow of the Face logo, or even blue of her eyes, where she was born - it is the fiery red of her own hair, the hair she chose to adorn.

And here is where I list random things I love about my girl :)

Her anger is so clearly coming from love?? She's not bitter like Kal, or spiteful like Cat, every time she gets mad you can just feel the empathy and pain that caused that reaction :(

"Why be normal when you can be interesting instead?"

I know for sure she was in a full face of makeup the whole journey and HELL YEAH THATS MY QUEEN

I said this in another post, but I really love how she's never slut shamed :)

Whenever she does anything, really, I'm that one clip of Lady Gaga saying; "Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before-"

As an older sister myself.....*starts crying*

She never has that super cringe moment of, "I'm a girl, I wear heels, AND I'LL KICK YOUR BUTT" like no!! She's a girl who wears heels and absolutely hates her current situation, and every time she's brave, she absolutely hates it because she's still scared!! So human and much better writing

The way she's a big sister to everyone!!! Zila and Auri are her girls, and she gives Kal the "how to date a girl" talk! So cute

Her response to her Dad's death is so complex and we truly don't discuss it enough :( she's angry at him but she mourns him, she thought the way he died was stupid, but she respects him for it. She doesn't think he was a great man, but she misses her Daddy. My sweet, grieving girl :(

And that's my post for Scarlett!! I hope you like it :) I learnt more about our queen than I thought making this! I hope you don't think I talked about the men in her life too much - I was trying to emphasize her struggle with her identity and how strong those bonds affect her, not their importance over her character :)

[randomfoggytiger]

Season 8: Tying Up Loose Ends and Forging New Paths

(Credit: Everett Collection)

The recurrent themes of The X-Files are resolved by the close of Season 8-- a nice touch, even if the execution is unavoidably flawed.

THE CULMINATION OF 8 YEARS

In the Pilot, Mulder divulged that "the family" had been torn apart; and that his quest was to find his sister. He was searching for his family-- a family-- and thought "the truth" would give him closure. In the Pilot, Scully related that her parents considered her recruitment "an act of rebellion"; and in Beyond the Sea, The Blessing Way, Quagmire, Never Again, and all things, she further revealed a reticence (and fear) to trust her own instincts over "other fathers." She was searching for herself-- and came to hope that "the truth" would lead her to justice and peace.

In The Jersey Devil, Scully briefly expresses interest in a family, juxtaposing her desire for a "life" with Mulder's disinterest in one-- a parallel that pops up again, six years and an almost kiss later in Dreamland I. In Home, Mulder ruminates on a life like his childhood, sees his partner as a mother for the first time, and secures the door between his and her motel room-- reinforcing Scully's instincts: he isn't ready for a "normal life." In Quagmire, Scully recognizes, "You are Ahab"; in Never Again she rebels against "other fathers"; and in Milagro she affirms, "Loneliness is a choice." In Season 1, Mulder asserts, "I have a life"; in Season 6, Mulder learns to partake in "life on this planet" (and tries a cycle of IVF with his partner shortly thereafter); and in Season 7, Mulder turns away from "another life, another world" to appreciate one with his partner. Scully's ruminations on motherhood are brought to the fore with her infertility and Emily Sim's death: "a miracle that wasn't meant to be." Mulder joins her wishes with hopes of his own in Per Manum: "Never give up on a miracle." In Requiem, both are touched by Teresa Hoese's child; and he insists, "Looking at you tonight, holding that baby... knowing everything that's been taken away from you. A chance for motherhood and your health and that baby.... There's so much more you need to do with your life. There's so much more than this." Mulder is abducted and returned and turned out from the files while Scully is pregnant and head of the files and "retired" away from them. Both realized that "other worlds" and "other paths" only led them away from themselves and each other (The Unnatural, Amor Fati, and all things, respectively); and both found that the truth "out there" (e.g. alien abductions or ever-evolving conspiracies on the files) was secondary to the truth "in you."

Mulder follows the same journey as his father, Bill Mulder: compelled into an impossible position (by men or aliens) and returned a fractured person. However, Mulder broke the generational curse-- running past his own weaknesses to help others in pain; nearly dying to the same Conspiracy, and leaving the "truth" behind for his own son. Likewise, Scully follows the same journey as her father, Captain Scully: diving deeper into work to excel and escape, surfacing only when faced with an inescapable tragedy. But she, too, broke the generational curse-- proving her mettle on the files and leaving it behind to be there, fully, for her own child.

Fate and freewill are in constant battle until Existence's close: in Paper Clip, the files and Fate are tied by mythological forces ("I think it's about something we have no personal choice in. I think it's about fate") which other mytharc episodes (and Monday) re-emphasize. In Mulder and Scully's partnership itself, either fate or a fluke brought them together but freewill kept them by each other's side. Scully's pregnancy is cloaked with the same questions-- a miracle, an act of God, an agent of freewill?-- but destroys the "fated" narrative with its closing lines: "Maybe he isn't what they thought he was. That doesn't make him any less of a miracle though, does it?" Fate and freewill converge, resulting in an ordinary life created through an extraordinary partnership-- normal, whole, and the "proof" Mulder and Scully sought.

8 YEARS OF THROUGH-LINES

(Credit to: Entertainment Weekly)

MULDER'S JOURNEY

In Requiem, Mulder considers: "I don't know, maybe they're right. The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons. It's the personal costs that are too high. There so much more you need to do with your life."

In Three Words, Mulder admits: "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cold or ungrateful. I just... I have no idea where I fit in. Right now. I just, uh... I'm having a little trouble... processing... everything."

In Existence, Mulder replies: "I don't know. Maybe it doesn't [end.]"

In Existence, Mulder acknowledges: "I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both know" and embraces a new life.

SCULLY'S JOURNEY

In Never Again, Scully states: "This isn’t about you. Or maybe it is, indirectly. I don’t know. I feel like I’ve lost sight of myself, Mulder. It’s hard to see, let alone find in the darkness of covert locations. I mean, I wish I could say that we were going in circles, but we’re not. We’re going in an endless line - - two steps forwards and three steps back. While my own life is...standing still."

In Biogenesis, Scully asserts: "Mulder... look, after all you've done, after all you've uncovered-- a conspiracy of men doing human experiments, men who are all now dead-- you exposed their secrets. I mean, you've won. What more could you possibly hope to do or to find?"

In all things, Scully discusses: "What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to."

In Essence, Scully demands: "Look, Mulder, look, I can't take this! I can't live like this-- as, as the object of some unending X-File."

In Existence, Scully asks "Which [the truth] is what?" and forges a new path with her partner and child.

BONUS

SKINNER'S JOURNEY

In One Breath, Skinner insists: "I’m afraid to look any further beyond that experience."

In S.R. 819, Skinner confesses: "I always played it safe. I wouldn't take sides. Wouldn't let you and Mulder... pull me in. Not the kind of ally that I could have been."

In Deadalive, Skinner says: "I had no choice. He wanted me to kill Scully's baby-- Alex Krycek-- for the vaccine. It's the only way he'd give it to me; but I couldn't trust him. I couldn't do that to her."

In Existence, Skinner pays for his freedom in blood, breaking free from his constraints once and for all.

CONCLUSION

(Credit to: @thexfiles)

Season 8 is, I believe, best summed up by a Frank Spotnitz quote.

Jan. 2001

"Whatever happens-whether Mulder appears next season [Season 9] or not-something is coming to an end at the end of this season. There’s the Mulder abduction storyline, which gets resolved, and there’s also the Scully pregnancy story line that gets resolved. And I think a big chapter is going to close in those final two episodes. And the series will be different, whoever comes back for it-if there is another year. We’re still working out what that final story is, but there are a couple of elements that we know are going to be in there. And those two elements close the chapter.”

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[filmofhybe]

my Golden Disc Award

ੈ✩‧₊˚ pairing : Lee Heeseung x oc GENRE : fluff , idol x idol warnings nothing but not proof-read🙁 WC - 560

MASTERLIST TO ALL MY WORKS

; AUTHORS NOTES : we got fate stage after almost a 8 months at Golden Disc Award. Everyone did so well I’m so proud. If it isn’t that good I sincerely apologize I’m having the WORSE fever rn🙁

You walked out and stood under the glimmering lights of the Golden Disc Awards stage, clad in a stunning white dress that seemed to radiate its own ethereal glow. The audience hushed as you stepped up to the microphone, your presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

"Good evening everyone, Welcome to Golden Disc Award show! Wow.. I Hope everyone is having a good time tonight enjoying all the groups performances!" Everyone was amazed by your beauty as the camera focuses on you, gasps and cheers filled the arena. "As the night comes to the end we have our finally award to be present, last year was a memorable year as lots of amazing albums. The winner of the best album award goes to ENHYPEN!" Y/n announced, her voice resonating through the venue. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Y/n gracefully held the coveted award, a symbol of musical excellence, in her hands.

All 7 members walked up towards you, bowing as Heeseung stepped forward to receive the award. Your eyes met his briefly, and a subtle connection passed between you both as you handed him the trophy. As your hands briefly touched, a spark seemed to flicker in the air, unnoticed by the cheering crowd.

Heeseung took the microphone, expressing gratitude on behalf of his group. “Thank you so much for our fans, family, staffs producers and especially y/n for presenting this award for us. We will continue to work hard for you engenes!! “ As the other members took turns sharing their thoughts, Heeseung couldn't help but steal glances at you. Secretly admiring your elegance and charm, he found himself captivated by your every move.

Meanwhile, you stood at the side, watching ENHYPEN with a smile. She felt a warmth in her heart, appreciating the talent and dedication of the group she was honoring. Little did she know, Heeseung was stealing glances back at her, enchanted by her grace and beauty.

During the acceptance speech, Heeseung's eyes often strayed toward you. The connection between them, though unspoken, deepened with each stolen glance. You sensing his admiration, couldn't help but smile at him. It was a silent exchange of appreciation and acknowledgment, creating a moment that lingered in the hearts of those witnessing the subtle connection.

The fans, both of yours and ENHYPEN, were quick to capture the unspoken chemistry between the both visuals. Social media buzzed with excitement, as fans shared screenshots and clips of the duo's brief but enchanting interaction. Hashtags like #YNxHeeseung and #GoldenCouple began to trend, with fans eagerly awaiting any additional content from that magical night.

As the award ceremony continued, Heeseung and you found yourselves occasionally crossing paths backstage. Each encounter was filled with exchanged smiles and brief conversations, leaving both of you with a growing fondness for each other. The fans, fueled by the hints of a potential connection, eagerly delved into every available piece of content, cherishing the moments where you and Heeseung's worlds collided.

“I love your albums so much!”

“Thank you y/n it means a lot…”

“Please invite me to collab with you on your next come back.”

“I’ll gladly collab with you every chance I get.”

The award show ended with a spectacular finale, but the whispers about you and Heeseung's enchanting connection continued to reverberate in the entertainment world. The fans couldn't get enough of the subtle glances, the smiles, and the unspoken chemistry that had unfolded on that prestigious stage.

While the world continued to turn, you and Heeseung smiled at the unexpected bond they had formed on that magical night. The Golden Disc Awards became more than just a celebration of music—it became a chapter in a story that unfolded beyond the stage, a story that the fans cherished and continued to explore with passion and creativity.

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

[cellarspider]

28/30 Katamari Damacy

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We return to NA NAAA NANANA NA NANA NA KATAMARI DAMACYYYY

[Video description: It's the We Love Katamari soundtrack, specifically Katamari On The Swing.]

You wanna see the dumbest thing you’ve seen all movie? Of course you do. I’ll try to figure out a way it could have worked. Content warning for character death, and a monster attack that I’m mostly not showing because I’m squeamish and y’all are going to have to deal with that. Yes, I, a person who used Pink Flamingos as a cinematic comparison earlier in this series, am squeamish about a scene in Prometheus. Sometimes stuff just hits you different for no discernible reason. 

Vickers and her lifeboat quarters ejected separately from the Prometheus, so she's wandering around on the surface not that far from Shaw. Both of them are therefore in The Danger Zone when the Engineer ship crashes, intact and rolling along its circumference. Spare a thought for how seasick the Engineer is probably feeling right now, and for David's still-conscious head, rattling around like a coin in a washing machine.

But we only see Shaw and Vickers, as they realize what's coming, and start up run away. …Down the path of the gigantic ship.

I want to emphasize, both of them do this. Do panicked people make dumb decisions? Yes. Are movie audiences predisposed to being charitable about that? No they are not, the audience expects rationality. The audience needs to be brought down to the perspective of the characters, so that irrational decisions make emotional sense. 

You need to make people feel the disorientation of encountering something so much larger than you that your sense of space is completely thrown off. It can be done. There's an animal fear in there, where self preservation kicks in and can steer you right or wrong. Something’s too large, or moving too fast to grapple with, or both. Jacob Geller has an excellent video essay covering this topic in video games, for instance.

For movies that do that? The one that comes to mind first is Edge of Tomorrow (2014). The beach landing scene in particular gets you into the perspective of a guy who is not supposed to be there and is completely disoriented, while remaining visually readable. It sticks close to him and his panic. The danger around him is all-encompassing, and he cannot keep track of it all. This overwhelming speed returns at points throughout the movie, leading to points in the theater where I physically leaned away from the screen, like I was in the original audience for The Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat. (1895)

And somehow this manages to be tense despite the fact that the man we’re following is Tom Cruise.

[Video description: A clip of the aforementioned scene. I highly recommend Edge of Tomorrow to anyone for whom Tom Cruise isn’t a dealbreaker. In fact, you get to watch Tom Cruise die! In this very clip! It’s a tense, engaging science fiction action movie, with good bits of humor, Bill Paxton as the most unhinged Master Sergeant you’ve ever seen, and Emily Blunt plays a goddamn space marine, power armor and all. As that description may imply, I especially recommend the movie to any 40k enjoyers–it hits a similar tone. You may also find the movie listed under the title Live Die Repeat.]

But no. In Prometheus, we the audience are shown the whole thing. The entire context. And what we see is a couple of morons that seem to believe they can outrun a wheel the size of a small town.

Neither of them actually think to run left or right. Shaw just trips, and then rolls to the side. The average human does not roll that fast, so it really drives home how unbelievably bad they are at this. Vickers also trips, and gets squished.

[A clip from The Naked Gun (1988), in which a stand-off between police Lt. Frank Drebin (Leslie Nielsen) and Vincent Ludwig (Khan Noonien Singh himself, Ricardo Montalbán) ends with Ludwig falling off the side of a stadium before being run over by a bus, a steam roller, and the USC marching band.]

This scene, obviously, does not work. I am, however, stubborn enough to try and workshop how it could have worked.

Vickers needs to be broken beneath the wheel, and to do so in a way that the audience won’t jeer at. We’ve already discussed the issues of having too wide a view of the action, so let’s table that. How could you keep that perspective, while flattening Vickers?

You do have options. Maybe have Vickers do the smart thing and run off at an angle toward the sun, so she wouldn’t get any looming shadow to tell her when the ship begins falling over until it’s too late. Have her injured in the crash and unable to process what’s going on. Have her escape pod door fail to open, trapping her in the path of the ship. She was part of the corporate machinery, having petty power over others but ultimately trapped by circumstance. Make that all literal. 

And for fuck’s sake, don’t have the entire ship fall over on Shaw a few seconds later, letting her come out okay because she was huddled near the world’s strongest rock.

When the narrative blatantly plays favorites, my instinctive reaction is to resent the recipient of the movie’s favor. It feels like they're cheating.

Y'know what would’ve helped here, weirdly? Shaw thanking God for this. It would’ve theoretically been in character! The whole movie runs on christian logic anyway, so why not leave people wondering if there’s a supernatural power at work in the unbelievably fucked up universe of Alien. You’d swing back around to making people wonder what kind of loving god would allow chestbursters to happen.

But no. There is no god. Only the rock. You’re welcome.

Shaw has a hole in her suit or somesuch, and thus is propelled onward toward the lifeboat, which we know contains her newly-birthed squiddo, trapped in the med-pod room.

It’s not dead. Of course it isn’t. But what makes no goddamn sense is that it’s gotten massive. Yes, I know, Alien didn’t give an explanation for the embiggening of the chestburster either, but I am willing to give Alien the benefit of the doubt, and Prometheus just showed me a woman get killed by a donut.

David, possibly cognizant that Shaw is his only chance to not have to drag himself around by the lips, calls her to warn that the Engineer’s on their way to finish her off.

I waffle on whether this is dumb behavior from the Engineer. I know the movie’s reason for doing this is just to have one last action beat, and an unsatisfying payoff at the end of the film. 

The Engineer spared Shaw before. Maybe that was a tiny amount of sympathy for how she was getting kicked around. She’d die alone on this alien moon, sure, but it wouldn’t be their doing. But the humans got their act together enough to crash the ship. Maybe sparing her was a mistake. Even one of them might be too dangerous to let live, especially when we find out soon that there’s more ships quite close by.

There was a cut bit here–I’d previously avoided showing these, but why not. The Engineer stopped and looked at the books strewn on the floor. Watched a little of Vickers’ weird screensaver wall, as it played one of the videos included in the transmission David had sent toward the moon during the journey, while everyone slept.

Ironically, most of the human material culture the Engineer gets to see is due to Vicker's disinterest in the mission, which completely failed to consider the fact that it's polite to bring gifts when you visit somebody. Her material comforts becoming the single point of cultural contact. A strange little coincidence, and a little more silent characterization for the Engineer, until David’s voice over Shaw’s radio sets everyone to murderin’.

But because this movie is allergic to characterization, so we can’t have that. Instead, we are only using their reappearance to hit another horror movie cliché: the bad thing that's gotten back up again. Here, have a clip from Scream (1996), which deliberately did a send-up of the trope.

Originally there was going to be a whole fight scene here, which they took out because they felt it lessened the Engineer. But as it is, they’re still reduced to a big ol’ monster with a scary face that lumbers in and tries to kill the heroine.

Want to know what’s weird? Both Alien and Aliens solve their final alien problem by opening a door. This is literally the same thing. This is their one weird trick.

And frankly, I can’t look at it, because what happens squicks me out. So good job I guess, the non-consentacles got me squirming in my seat. When I’ve subjected other people to this movie, I’ve shamelessly muted and walked away for a minute. Maybe at some point I’ll figure out what limit it’s hitting there for me and Litany Against Fear it to pieces, but not right now! Facehuggers are a manageable sort of unsettling, but I do not like the bodyhugger.

The screenshot hunt for this was not fun, lemme tell you.

So, yes, the last of the Engineers on this planet laid low by their own creation(s), they’re mortal after all, ironic circle of rebirth, yadda yadda, moving on.

You know what, I’m actually with Shaw right now. Lying face-down and having a cry is a very understandable, human reaction to all this. Good job, movie, you got me vibing with her for about thirty seconds.

Want to see how they screw it up?

⛬

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Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://youtu.be/y-pE9j98jP0 da baaa, da ba da ba da ba da doodoodoo dabada daba da–

https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407316141 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZ6JK1mPT-A&list=PLZbXA4lyCtqpMbPbUtqdnpx72tgxjSjo8&t=82 

https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407316059 

https://avp.fandom.com/wiki/MU/TH/UR_6000 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dicranurus

[dubylou-draws]

*Aggrieved pufferfish noises*

[Translators note: "You’re always whining about not wanting to go to work, you’re always hitting on girls, and you snore SO loud!"]

(no, I don't know what a pufferfish sounds like either)

____

Merman Zenitsu and pufferfish Chuntaro!

I was backing up some files earlier, and stumbled across this dumb AU doodle from a few years ago. Seemed appropriate to colour it with watercolours!

Cute little Chuntaro is a prickly pufferfish in this AU... but that raises the question: what marine species would the rest of the corps use to communicate underwater?

Swordfish are extremely fast swimmers, have convenient weapons/ letter clips stuck to their faces, excellent eyesight, are highly migratory loners with a massive range, and... ugh, fine. They're the obvious choice, aren't they?

Most members of the seaman slayer corps use swordfish.

Further fishy ideas beneath the cut:

Tanjirou:

My first instinct is to say sunfish, but the mental image of one of those massive creatures drifting menacingly behind him at all times is just too ridiculous.

And yet... somehow it makes perfect sense? A gentle giant that acts like a shield, patiently sheltering his sister from the sun whenever they travel near the surface.

Shinobu/ Kanao/Kanae: Butterfly fish, of course! All with polite and graceful personalities.

Shinobu fights using a variety of marine animal venoms including stonefish. Stonefish stings are treated with the applicaton of heat to denature proteins in the venom... so if Douma's an ice guy in this AU too, he's in for a rough time.

Inosuke: Briefly had a cute little pigfish, but he ate it within a day. Now he just has a regular corps- assigned swordfish. They're also tasty, apparently... if only he could catch it!

Tengen: Really wanted a Fireworks fish/ some other absurdly flamboyant tropical fish. Instead, he was assigned a bland- looking, tiny little fish that's well- suited to stealth missions.

It's been thoroughly ✨bedazzled✨by now and loves him. The most popular family member by far. Very plump and spoilt.

Gyomei: Green humphead parrotfish. These guys are massive, pretty docile, and spend most of their time crunching through rock- hard coral with big teeth to scrape off yummy algae, pooping out the rest as sand. They are cleaners that are instrumental in maintaining the health of coral reef ecosystems.

Gyomei's parrotfish is no exception; however, it used to be an insatiable glutton, to the point of destroying the coral reef it once resided in and being ostracised by its peers as a result. Wracked with guilt and with nowhere else to go, it received an invitation to serve in the corps. Its new master helped it learn self control.

Rengoku: There's no shortage of bold, flame- coloured fish species out there... but I reckon this guy just has the same generic swordfish species assigned to the rest of the corps. The only difference being that his used to be his father's loyal companion, and it's aged a bit, so it's not as speedy as it once was. It should've retired years ago, but refuses to abandon its self- imposed duty of keeping its master's son on the right path.

Was a rebellious playboy in its youth. Now it's a straight- laced military type, follows corps rules to the letter. Doesn't trust that slimy sea slug Nezuko one bit.

Sanemi: SAILFISH, hands down. Aggressive, vaguely wind- themed predator, and the fastest swimmer in the ocean. Both of them are pretty smug about that last point.

Genya: An archerfish would make sense thematically... but again, Genya just seems like another corps- assigned swordfish kinda guy to me? He definitely has a pet snapping turtle though. It's very small, and VERY grumpy.

Muchiro: A sweet natured blue- ringed octopus who wants nothing more than to be friends, but suffers from crippling social anxiety that makes it seem aloof and unapproachable.

Everyone is TERRIFIED of it except Tengen, who thinks it's flamboyant as heck, and Shinobu, who is simultaneously obsessed with it and wants to stab it dead.

Muchiro just ignores it, for the most part.

(Giyuu can relate).

Mitsuri: Blobfish lacking in self- confidence. Mitsuri thinks it's cute, and is absolutely correct in her opinion. Accepts cuddles from Mitsuri and Obanai only, and blushes at compliments. It's also insanely flexible, just like its master. Copes well under high pressure!

Giyuu: This man has a manta ray, no doubt about it. A creature of few words with a serene and peaceful disposition... yet inexplicably a huge social magnet that effortlessly draws everyone's attention (away from Giyuu). Especially popular with young merchildren, whom it often allows to ride on its back. Holds a deep respect for both its master and Urokodaki (who has a manta ray too, by the way).

Obanai: Had the toughest time deciding this one. A striped beakfish would match his colour scheme perfectly, but... I just don't think it suits him. A striped marlin, maybe? Anyone with more ideas, let me know!

Kaburamaru is a sea snake, obviously. A black- banded sea krait.

[brokendreamscreation]

Harshest thing anyone has ever said to them? And can Gabe legally fist fight the person who said it?

Darker Muse Qs

Oh there had been plenty of times when harsh words were directed at the blue seraphim, especially with his superiors of the High Council. Warnings and reminders that Lucid was crafted in the same image and power of his predecessor Lucifer Morningstar, and thus made him equally as dangerous. That he would always be in the Devil’s shadow and equally capable of slipping up. Lucid had always hoped that one day he would have proven himself enough to step out of that shadow, to no longer be viewed as another Lucifer on the verge of slipping up. But as it was, he was still so young, and surely it would take several millennia more to even sway a few of them.

The harshest warning however had come from one of the archangels, Michael. The time that the young and ambitious, newly fledged six-winged seraphim had talked back, defiant and stubborn. An opposition to having his abilities stunted and true potential clipped. Lucid knew he could do more, offer more, excel far beyond the limits imposed on him. And with it he was met with restraint, a pain that while it left him physically unmarked, frightened and wounded his spirit.

“You think this hurts now? The council won’t hesitate to drive a dozen spears into your flesh if you keep this attitude up. You’re going down a dangerous path, Lucid. Consider this your final warning.”

The message had been clear and understood: Any show of defiance or self-declaration by Lucid would be seen as treason and a parallel to Lucifer. Even his own kin would turn their blades upon him without hesitation. The seraphim could be considered expendable if he dared to rise above what he was ordered.

[cleavetheclover]

Like a Shitty Little Guardian Angel

Cypher doesn’t trust Iso.

Like Chamber, his record was just a little too excellent. Served in the Chinese military, moved to a special unit and received specialized Radiant training, defected and began a search for organizations that would make “better use of his talents.” A plain story. Right at the same time that Valorant was looking to hire another Agent.

Inconspicuous and conveniently at right place at the right time…

Just enough so that it tickles the instincts in the back of Cypher’s mind.

Ah, but Cypher is getting ahead of himself. He has no concrete evidence against Iso. Chamber, on the other hand, showed up with the exact blueprints and coordinates and passwords of the entire Fracture site— including information he certainly wouldn’t have access to if he were merely an optical engineer as he described. That was blatant. Something didn’t add up there, and Cypher still hadn’t been able to figure it out.

Not so much with Iso.

Until he was alerted of a Sheriff missing from the Range Armory.

Under normal circumstances Agents could borrow equipment from the Armory for practice drills. Cypher had set an alarm to notify him of any missing equipment, on a timer of six hours or if equipment left the Range. Most of the time they were false alarms (Phoenix, please stop leaving your pistols in the locker room…), but today was different.

Cypher checked the time. A Sheriff had been removed from the Range two minutes ago, half past midnight. Definitely not during draining hours. He flicked through the security system, looking for the culprit, and found the 24th Agent on his way out of the Armory.

Curious. He was carrying the Sheriff by his side, clearly conscious that he had stolen it.

Cypher stood from his chair and slipped out of his office, deciding to tail the Duelist just in case. His own Ghost was holstered on the inside of his coat (a little exception that he technically shouldn’t have, but if anyone knew, no one had ratted on him so far.)

Iso was making his way through the corridors with decisive strides. Every few seconds, Cypher would note his pathway and check the rooms ahead to see if anything of importance might be there. Just in case, he also prepares to activate an emergency call for Sage and Brimstone. They could help if things went south.

Nothing for ten minutes. Their paths cross at about the five minute mark, Cypher intercepting from behind with Iso none the wiser.

The Duelist had passed by all the rooms housing important power banks, servers, computers, laboratories, and workshops. What was he after, then?

Cypher checks the cameras of the rooms ahead. Killjoy’s workshop, darkened. She is out on a mission now. His own workshop (yes, Cypher had ironically circled back here without intending to). Chamber's workshop, dark, the frenchman was a morning person who enjoyed early bedtimes. Omen in a room further ahead, tending to his favorite bonsai.

(He never said it was his favorite, but Cypher knew because it was the one he was always most careful with.)

Cypher leans his back against the wall, watching Iso continue his path down the hall through his cameras. The Duelist shows no interest in any of the workshops, which is a relief to the Sentinel.

Until Iso stops at the room Omen is standing in, and takes aim at Omen's skull.

Omen doesn't even look up.

Cypher curses under his breath and breaks into a run. An assassination? Why? He braces himself for the sound of the Sheriff’s fire and what he knows he must do afterwards— take out Iso, take Omen’s corpse to the medbay, and get Sage to revive him as soon as possible—

But even as he catches up to the corner, no sound has come. Only silence.

Cypher switches to his cam, where he has a good view of both Iso and Omen. The Sheriff is poin muted at the back of Omen’s head, held evenly in Iso’s hand as he stands out in the hallway. The revenant is none the wiser, continuing to clip away at the bonsai.

Iso does not fire. Five seconds. Cypher holds his breath, preemptively drawing his pistol from his coat.

But Iso lowers the gun.

Iso, for whatever reason, has spared Omen’s life. Instead, he has left a device on the table beside the Controller, one too small for Cypher to examine through the camera.

Cypher rounds the corner, leaning against the doorframe as the duelist once again enters the hallway. The Chinese man stares him down, daring him to say anything. Cypher maintains his gaze and wordlessly rolls a tripwire across his knuckles, playing innocent even though both of them know that Cypher was fully aware of the actions Iso had almost taken.

Iso returns the nod.

Good. Now Iso knows that Cypher is keeping an eye on him, and hopefully he won’t try and pull any of this bullshit again.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Michael Rother - Knockdown Center, New York City, March 30, 2025

Have I been consumed with deep feelings of envy over everyone who caught Michael Rother on his recent tour of these not-so-United States? Well, yeah. The NEU!/Harmonia genius doesn't tour often — and the clips filtering through my various feeds over the last couple weeks sounded downright celestial. Fortunately, our guy Roolin was at the last show in NYC, ever-steady-handed, providing a you-are-there experience for the rest of us. Thank you again and again! Rother's band (including NEU! member Hans Lampe) is nothing short of kickass, bringing these timeless Motorik jams to vivid life, from the dark caverns of "Negativland" to the soaring skyscapes of "Hallogallo." And hey, your friend and mine Thurston Moore shows up at the end to add his signature skronk to an excellent rendition of "E-Musik."

Rother Says: I often wish for more artistic obstinacy and ambition. A lot of people these days cite Klaus Dinger's Motorik beat, for example, because it's in fashion right now. And purely superficially, it's easy to imitate. But the magic's not that easy — without the combination with all the other elements of NEU!'s music, there's not much point to that beat ... All that counts is what innovation you really achieve, whether with or without a vision, with or without a Motorik beat. And even having that idea that you want to take your own path is no use in the abstract sense. In the end, what matters is what you really create on your own.

[monochromaticbeans]

🌸The Thread of Fate

Chapter 4 Where the Blossoms Fell

The sun dipped low, calling it a day, painting the sky in blazes of red and orange that gave way to the deep sapphire blue of nightfall as Sayuri left the shrine. Walking the familiar path home, she stopped by the konbini near her apartment. That's when she felt it.

An odd prickling sensation on the back of her neck and eyes boring into her.

She glanced over her shoulder at the man standing a bit too close behind her in the line to check out. When she inadvertently made eye contact with him, he gave a slick sort of smile that made her hair stand on end.

Her head snapped back to facing the cash register, clutching her basket of yakisoba, dorayaki, and a can of tea closer to her body. Something about that man left a greasy feeling in her stomach.

After paying for her items, she left the konbini with a clip to her step, trying not to appear like she was running away. She approached a crosswalk and pressed the button on the post, waiting for the signal light to change. Still feeling uneasy, she hazarded a glance over her shoulder. The man was headed in her direction.

The queasy feeling in her stomach screamed at her to not go directly home. Instead of turning left towards the apartment building, she took a right, intending to loop back around to the konbini. Along the way, she passed a pachinko parlor and ducked inside.

Although the parlor was packed with people, it offered little in a sense of security. She dug her phone out of her bag and dialed the first person she thought could help.

“Hey, you,” Sanzu answered on the third ring. His tone one of pleasant surprise. “What's up?”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue,” Sayuri said, sounding more than a little rattled. “But can you stay on the line with me for a bit?”

The uneasiness in her voice put Sanzu immediately on guard. “Yeah, I can. Where are you, what's going on?”

“I'm kind of hiding out in the pachinko parlor near my apartment,” she answered, peeking around one of the game machines, checking the door.

“Why are you hiding? Talk to me.” Sanzu grabbed his keys, already on his way out of the penthouse.

“It's probably nothing, but I'm kind of creeped out.” Sayuri fought to keep the rising panic at bay. She clung to the strap on her shoulder bag, gripping her phone tightly. “I think there's a man following me.”

“What?” Sanzu's fist tightened around his car keys, the metal biting into his skin. “Describe him. What does he look like? Is he still there?”

She peeked around the game machine again, eyes darting about. No sign of him at the moment. “He looks like a freaking tree trunk. He's tall and stocky, slicked back hair. I've never seen him before.”

“Hang on, I'm on my way.”

A twinge of guilt twisted in her chest. She didn't mean for Sanzu to drop whatever he was doing, she only wanted to have him stay on the phone with her. And from the sound of his car engine, he was driving like a bat out of hell.

🌸🌸🌸

Jiro stood just outside the parlor, a cigarette stuck between his meaty fingers as he typed a message on his phone.

Mochizuki Sayuri. Miko at Musashi Shrine. Mocchi’s little cousin. Cornered her in a pachinko parlor.

Discovering that Sayuri was connected to two Bonten executives instead of only one sweetened the pot. Double the pain, double the fun. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

A reply came in:

Excellent. Proceed.

With a small nod, Jiro stuck his phone in his back pocket, took a drag from the cigarette, and walked around to the back of the building, towards the rear exit.

🌸🌸🌸

Sayuri watched the sleek black sports car screech to a halt in front of the door. Relief washed over her, quickly replacing the guilt as he threw the car door open and stepped out. She let out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. With her focus on Sanzu, she didn't notice the tree trunk of a man slip in through the back door.

“I'm so sorry,” Sayuri told Sanzu as she met him at the front door, a sheepish expression on her face.

“What the hell are you sorry for?” Sanzu's gaze swept over the sea of faces, all transfixed on their machines, before settling on Sayuri. “It's not your fault some asshole followed you.”

“I know,” she replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “But, I'm sorry you came all the way out here to–”

Sanzu placed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “No apologizing. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be.”

Sayuri's eyebrows raised in surprise. Her heart skipped not because he'd shushed her, but because he touched her lips.

“Now, let's get out of here. This place is a goddamn germ factory,” he said, grabbing her hand and all but dragging her through the door. If the man she described seeing was who he suspected it was, he'd have to protect her at all costs.

🌸🌸🌸

Jiro smirked as Sanzu left with Sayuri in tow. Interesting that she'd call him for help instead of her cousin. At any rate, today was a success. Sayuri was rattled and it put Sanzu on edge. Perfect.

🌸🌸🌸

Sayuri buckled her seat belt just before Sanzu stomped on the accelerator. Her head jerked backwards with the sudden movement of the car, bumping against the headrest. She braced herself to turn onto the street leading to her apartment, but he kept driving straight.

“Uh, my apartment’s that way,” she said, pointing behind the car.

“It isn't safe. We're going to my place.” Although his tone was nonchalant, his thoughts were anything but. If Akuma no Ikari were lifting their ugly heads again, Sayuri would be a tempting target. She wouldn't be safe until they were destroyed.

“Your place?” she echoed, the uneasiness returning. “I don't know if that's necessary. The man only–”

“It's absolutely necessary.” The serious tone of his voice made it clear this wasn't up for debate. It was highly likely that her apartment was being monitored, if someone wasn't already there waiting for her. He wasn't taking any risks with her.

🌸🌸🌸

Sayuri's jaw dropped as he opened the door to the penthouse. Floor to ceiling windows with a fantastic view of the city, clean modern lines, sleek furniture. And this was only the living room.

“You live here?” she asked in quiet disbelief.

“Yeah.” Sanzu's shoes were already off and he had his phone in his hand, texting someone.

Sayuri slipped her shoes off, padding across the hardwood floor to the window. Tokyo stretched out below her, its lights sparkled in her eyes. She felt so small up here, and incredibly out of place in this setting.

Sanzu glanced up at her from his phone. Her amazed expression reflected in the window and it gave her such an innocent appearance. She had this gravitational pull that drew him in, his feet carrying him closer to her before he even realized he was walking.

“I bet this never gets old, huh?” she asked, inclining her face towards him. “Seeing this every night?”

“Yeah. It's nice,” he replied. Having Sayuri here at his place, seeing this every night—it could never get old.

Her eyes gazed at the lights again. “It's really beautiful,” she said quietly.

Sanzu hummed in agreement. Yes, you are, he thought. His fingers twitched, wanting to touch her hair, to brush it behind her ear and linger for a moment. But he shoved his hands in his pants pockets, turning away from her.

“I'll find you something to sleep in,” he said, stepping towards his bedroom. “Just give me a minute.”

He'd used the sleepwear as an excuse to leave before the urge to touch her became unbearable. She made him feel… things. Things he didn't know what to do with. And if he didn't know what to do with all that, it was best to keep his distance. Because if he fucked up and hurt her, someone was going to die.

His eyes swept the room—immaculately tidy, clean bedsheets, but the bottles of pills on the nightstand had to go. Especially the unmarked, special ones. He gathered them up and stuck them in the drawer. Well, most of them ended up hidden in the drawer. A few found their way into his pockets for later.

🌸🌸🌸

“This okay to sleep in?” Sanzu reappeared with a pillow and a blanket tucked underneath his arm, waving a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt that would probably swallow her whole.

Sayuri nodded, rising from the couch. “Thank you,” she said. “You really didn't have to do all this.”

“I already told you if I didn't want to help, I wouldn't.” He tossed the pillow and blanket onto the couch as she padded into the bathroom to change.

Sanzu stood in front of the couch, running a hand through his hair. Sayuri’s scent lingered faintly in the air, but it wasn’t from perfume—just something soft and subtle, like fresh air after the rain. It made his head spin.

He flopped down, staring at the blanket he’d thrown onto the pillow. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find a message waiting for him.

Confirmed sighting. Akuma no Ikari.

A video loaded with the text, showing footage from traffic cameras. It clearly showed Sayuri being followed by Jiro to the konbini, then to the parlor, then the black sports car screeching to a halt.

“Fuck.” Sanzu's grip on the phone tightened. Akuma no Ikari were back and they were after Sayuri. No doubt they knew she was Mocchi's cousin, and if they weren't aware of his own involvement with her, they sure as shit were now.

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled him back to the present. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and glanced over.

Sayuri stepped out in his shirt and shorts that were almost ridiculously too big. The shirt wasn't as bad as the shorts. She held them up by the waistband, a sheepish little smirk on her lips.

“I'd say they fit pretty well, huh?” she remarked with a soft little laugh.

Seeing her in his clothes, in his living room, made Sanzu's mind wander to places it shouldn't. And her little laugh didn't help matters any. The corners of his mouth began lifting into a smile. How in the hell was he going to keep his distance if all he wanted to do was pull her close?

Sayuri sat down beside him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I don't normally tell anyone about experiences I have at the shrine. But something happened, and I know why we're having our dreams.”

“Yeah?” he asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

She nodded, still hesitant to speak about the bird and the yarn, but eager to tell him about the message itself. “The red thread of fate.”

The red thread of fate. He knew the story, and what it meant—sort of. “So, we're what? Supposed to meet, or something?”

Sayuri nodded again, slowly. “And given what we both saw at the shrine…” She trailed off, the image of the samurai and the miko vivid in her mind.

Sanzu sat quietly, his expression one of disbelief, skepticism, and confusion all mixed together. He never really gave much thought to the spiritual or supernatural, not until now. But with the dreams coming every night, finding Sayuri, and whatever it was they saw with the cherry blossoms, weird shit was pretty hard to discount these days.

“The red thread, for us,” Sayuri said in a voice that was both gentle and confident, “isn't just for this lifetime.”

[coricatchthorne]

Cori Reads: Countess

Suzan Palumbo’s (@gothicsyntax) Countess is a brutal yet brilliant tale of a woman turning against the Empire that discarded her. It’s a queer, Caribbean, sci-fi take on the Count of Monte Cristo; more importantly, it’s a story wholly its own, with much to say about oppression, resilience, and resistance. Some spoilers to discuss what I admired and enjoyed in this work.

Set in a future haunted by the injustices of the past, we meet our protagonist Virika Sameroo just as years of hard work and sacrifice appear to be paying off with a promotion to captaincy. But despite prioritizing her service over her artistic dreams and the wishes and worries of her widowed mother, Virika’s integrity is called into question under the thinnest of pretences, illustrating how little she is trusted or valued. 

The narrative moves at a brisk clip, propelling us through Virika’s brief moment of triumph, meteoric fall, and her path forward from the ashes. Despite the book’s brevity, it covers a lot of narrative and thematic ground (far more than I’m covering here). Focus is reserved for the moments that matter: a parade of microaggressions that foreshadow the fragility of Virika’s position; a tale of tiny creatures who must flee the birthplace they barely know and will always remember in order to survive; a harrowing visit to a cursed planet ringed by funerary bones and haunted by regret. This works because words are chosen deftly and honed to a fine edge: “spit out like rotten mango”, “lumbering tectonic plate of a warship”, “fear is bravery’s mother”.

Through Virika’s difficult journey, we see what sustains her, and may help sustain us, even in the worst of times. Anger and spite are her fuel of last resort, keeping her upright when all else fails. But more than anger is necessary to nourish us and keep us in the world. Familiar (and deliciously described) food ties Virika to her family, heritage, and the simple pleasures of the body, expressing love and building fellowship and solidarity. Art, etched on even the bleakest of canvases, allows her to process her experiences, articulate what words cannot, and connect with others. And above all, care and community enable her anger to be channeled into a force for positive change that extends far beyond just herself. Virika’s greatest moments depend on her ties to others, from her complex relationship with a sympathetic prison guard to her alliance with a crew of familiar privateers to her romance with a revolutionary’s daughter (also an excellent cook, and an articulate advocate with an ability to connect in a way that Virika’s trauma has made difficult.)

An intimate betrayal late in the story has been lodged in my brain since I finished it, hinging around the devastating assertion that “love isn’t enough”. There’s a lot to think about in this moment and what leads up to it, but my biggest takeaway so far is our obligation to consider the ways in which we’re entangled with systems of oppression, and how those entanglements may be leveraged to control us and make us weapons against even the people we love and the principles we hold dear. 

Countess is a brief, bright blade of a book, and my heart is still bloody from the read. But I’m so glad it exists; even at its bleakest, it believes in the importance of human emotion, connection, and indomitable hope in difficult times, a refrain I believe we’ll need in the days ahead. Find links to buy it here: https://suzanpalumbo.carrd.co/#countess

[singeratlarge]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Lili-Babs, Samuel Barber, Carl Betz, the late, great guitarist Chris Bovard, Trevor Burton (The Move), John Cale, Robert Calvert (Hawkwind), Ornette Coleman, Jane Antonia Cornish, Jim Cregan, Jerry Eubanks (Marshall Tucker), Jimmie Fadden, Linda Fiorentino, Martin Fry (ABC), Will Geer, Mickey Gilley, Zakir Hussain, Raul Julia, Kato Kaelin, Laura Lee, Mahler’s 3rd Symphony (1897), Mark Mancina, Jeffrey Osborne, Lloyd Price, Bobby Sands, Thomas Schippers, Bodhi Setchko, Keely Smith, Taeyeon, Chris Thompson (Mannfred Mann’s Earth Band), Diego Torres, Robin Trower, U2’s 1987 JOSHUA TREE album, Gary Walker (Standells, Walker Brothers), Paul Winter, and one of the greatest frontmen in rock’n’roll: Mark Lindsay, best known as the singer for Paul Revere & The Raiders. In their major label era of the 1960s and early 70s, PR&TR were one of the tightest and most visible acts in the business. They were the first real rock band signed to Columbia Records, and their garage band energy and declarative stage look pushed back on the British Invasion bands of 1964.

 

The Raiders kicked out hit after hit in multiple genres including bubblegum, country rock, hard rock, psychedelia, and soul/r’n’b, all with dazzling excellence. They cut the first definitive version of “Louie Louie” before leaving their Oregon base for Los Angeles, joining Terry Melcher (Byrds producer) to launch a prolific and innovative run of great records that still play today: “Just Like Me”, “Kicks” and (recently in the film ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD) “Good Thing,” “Hungry,” “Mr. Sun Mr. Moon,” etc. Between 1965 and 1970, as Dick Clark expanded his jukebox TV empires, he hired PR&TR to host three TV shows. Before The Monkees even twanged “Last Train to Clarksville,” PR&TR had already set the bar for TV bands, gluing pre-adolescent me to the tube with rock’n’roll comedy and ear candy—and there was eye candy for 1000s of girls screaming for teen idol Mark Lindsay. He set the bar as a powerhouse vocalist, able to croon soft sensual pop ballads then flip to paint-peeling bluesy growls.

 

The Raiders crested in 1971 with the #1 hit “Indian Reservation,” which was a repackaging of a Mark Lindsay solo recording (backed by the Wrecking Crew). As a solo act, Mark was already charting with “Silver Bird” and the hippy girl anthem “Arizona.” He branched into other music business roles, composing jingles and songs for films and TV shows. Legendary author Stephen King expressed his fan-dom with Mark’s 2001 cover of “Treat Her Right,” backed by Los Straitjackets. 

 

Meanwhile, Mark’s career intersected with The Carpenters, The Chesterfield Kings, Eric Johnson, Carla Olson, Gerry Rafferty, Barbra Streisand, Dionne Warwick, and The Monkees, whose orbit led me to cross paths with Mark a couple of times, and he always treated me like a gentleman. I first saw him in concert in 1993, and it was a rock-solid show loaded with the hits and deep cuts. Lately he’s been active doing radio shows and webcasts, the latest being “The American Revolution” on Sirius XM.

 

If I had to pick one Mark Lindsay track, it’s "Too Much Talk.” It blew my mind when I was a kid—my 45 of it cracked but I kept pressing it with my fingers till the vinyl tissued. The fidelity on this clip is a tad distorted, but the visuals speak volumes. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EG30aN53GkY Meanwhile, HB and thank you Mark for continuing to inspire and entertain with your skills and talents.

 

#marklindsay #paulrevereandtheraiders #vox #davyjones #monkees #garagerock #countryrock #terrymelcher #birthday #psychedelic #bubblegum #silverbird #arizona #tvrock #keithallison #johnnyjblair #mickydolenz #birthday