#powers is unstable and almost fragile

[in-asterism]

wheee

[wingedshadowfan]

and the next time i hear someone in the arcane fandom say

silco's actions were necessary to free zaun

that silco was better than vander and ekko because he was ready to do whatever it took

i will actually start screaming.

using child labor in the shimmer factories? getting his own people addicted to shimmer so he could gain power and influence? paying enforcers to kill the firelights who were helping the addicts? turning his goons into shimmer monsters?

he caused irreperable damage to his community and even he said it himself, he did it for respect. we'll show them all, he'd said. he did for revenge.

the base violence necessary for change this, the base violence necessary for change that. silco, traumatized by vander, is truly a small, fragile man, afraid of feeling weak and helpless again like he did when he was being drowned, angry at all the adversity in his life that has lead him to that moment.

this is why he seizes the opportunity and stabs vander in the back. he could never beat him one on one - vander would rip him apart like a child with a bug, as someone here so nicely put it before (but with 14 year old vi instead of vander).

this is why he's always surrounded by big goons that do his bidding. he never gets his hands dirty. sevika fucking shielded him from a bomb blast, saved his ass from finn, etc.

this is why he works with enforcers and pays them to hunt the firelights so he can keep the status quo. he could pay them to do that but not to be less violent to his people? not to reform somehow or pass word onto the council?

this is why he traumabonds and weaponizes a literal child he knows is utterly alone, mentally unstable and destructive. why he makes her abandon her identity in favor of one he crafts for her because he believes it will protect her from what the hurt he experienced.

but he himself? he's all about theatrics, gassing ppl up and intimidating them, but almost never actually raises a weapon himself (aside from the tea party where the sick fuck tries to kill vi w/ jinx's gun bcuz he's afraid he'll lose his daughter living weapon iirc).

and what was his plan for achieving the nation of zaun if jinx hadn't stolen the hex gemstone and jayce hadn't come to barter? sending an army of shimmer monsters into piltover? and what about the retaliation that would've followed?

"silco was the best leader for zaun, because he would do whatever it took." everything in the whole wide world, except give jinx up (and i'm not saying he should've, but wasn't this the very difference between him and vander, and the reason sevika thought vander was weak?). he put one person above the nation of zaun y'all claim only he could've earned. dpmo.

silco they will NEVER make me like you.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

The Effects of his Captivity:

I’m yapping as I go so things might be repeated and disjointed sjsheoeb

The effects of solitary confinement for 17–20 years, compounded by erasure from existence, being forgotten by loved ones, and surviving only due to the power of six human souls, would likely devastate Color on every level—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

The scar from the human’s killing blow and the busted skull would constantly remind him of his defeat and the cost of his decision.

The scar across Color’s chest, combined with a busted skull and the fact that his body is only held together by the souls of the fallen children, would cause constant, likely debilitating pain.

The pain would not only be physical but might also affect his nervous system, creating a sense of heightened sensitivity, numbness, or confusion in certain areas of his body.

The missing eye socket and the physical instability caused by the six souls could result in constant discomfort, with his body held together by an unnatural force.

The loss of one eye results in limited vision, leading to disorientation or an inability to perceive his environment fully. His reliance on other senses might have intensified during his long isolation.

Though his body remains animated through the human souls, the sustained trauma would lead to deterioration in his physical form. Despite being “alive,” his body could be slowly degrading, leading to a weakened, frail state, susceptible to further injury or collapse if the soul power fades.

Without natural healing mechanisms, he feels fragile and unstable, living with the fear that even a minor incident could cause him to dust.

Isolation and lack of physical activity would lead to a decline in motor skills. Even with the souls sustaining him, his body would feel awkward or disconnected from his movements due to the prolonged lack of practice.

Being erased and forgotten would create a sense of identity erosion. He would question his own existence, asking, “Am I even real if no one remembers me?”

The replacement by Undyne would deepen this feeling, leaving him with thoughts of worthlessness or expendability. Being erased from existence and replaced as his brother’s sibling could shatter Color’s sense of self.

He might feel like a hollow shell, disconnected from his past, his identity, and even from the idea of family. This loss of identity could lead to deep confusion and a constant struggle to find meaning or purpose in his existence.

Prolonged isolation often leads to hallucinations, disorganized thoughts, and paranoia.

With only Gaster for company, the lack of meaningful interaction and emotional support would likely exacerbate feelings of detachment from reality.

With no one to communicate with besides Gaster, Color would experience intense loneliness. The human need for social connection becomes exaggerated, possibly leading to an almost desperate mental state.

His mind becomes fragmented, with periods of dissociation or even delusions where he might question his own existence, identity, or even whether he truly deserves connection.

He may mentally replay the moment of his decision to sacrifice himself and the souls, analyzing it endlessly and second-guessing if it was the right choice. This fixation could lead to rumination, spiraling into depression and self-blame.

While in solitary confinement, Color’s mind would likely sharpen its focus on survival. This could manifest in an almost obsessive attention to maintaining his existence, perhaps in unhealthy ways like fixation on the six souls that keep him alive or obsessive thoughts about what could have been.

His mental state would likely shift from coping mechanisms to raw, desperate survival instincts as time passes.

The combination of isolation, guilt over his past actions, and the fear of fading into nothingness could cause Color to experience significant paranoia. He might fear being forgotten again, rejected by any potential new connections, or being discarded once again.

This paranoia could cause him to avoid making meaningful bonds, driven by the constant anxiety that no one would ever remember or care for him.

Knowing the six souls are tied to his existence, he feels profound guilt over using their power to remain animated, questioning whether his survival is justified.

The choice to sacrifice himself and the six children to save his timeline would weigh heavily on Color’s psyche. The emotional burden of having made that decision—likely seen as a selfish act, despite its altruistic intent—could plague him with guilt, making it difficult to reconcile his actions with his current state of existence.

The scar, both physical and symbolic, would constantly remind him of the lives lost and his perceived failure.

With no outlet for his feelings, Color could harbor intense anger, not only at the people who forgot him but also at the world that allowed him to fall into such a fate.

This anger might turn inward, manifesting as self-loathing or projection of his frustration onto Gaster or even his past self. He could experience periods of violent outbursts, fueled by the intense emotional overload.

The most defining emotional toll would be a profound feeling of abandonment. Color would be haunted by the belief that no one cares about him anymore, having been forsaken not only by his family but by the very timeline that once needed him.

This abandonment would likely result in a deep sadness and longing for connection, especially with those he once loved. He wonders if he is fundamentally unlovable or unworthy of remembrance.

This loneliness could manifest in a desperate need for validation once freed, making him overly dependent on relationships (e.g., Killer, Delta, Epic, potentially Abyss, Gaster especially.)

Being forgotten by his loved ones, replaced as an older sibling, and erased from existence leave him grieving not just for his relationships but for his very sense of self.

He may also mourn the timeline he tried to save, feeling like his sacrifice was in vain if it resulted in this outcome.

He could harbor anger toward the human for putting him in this position, toward Gaster for not being more helpful in the Void, and even toward himself for making the choice to sacrifice himself.

This anger could fuel a determination to prove his worth or, conversely, lead to a sense of bitterness and hopelessness.

In the face of overwhelming despair, Color might latch onto a mission or role (e.g., helping people, trying to rebuild his identity) to feel meaningful again. His fear of being forgotten may make him try to be indispensable to others, risking burnout or exploitation.

After escaping the Void, Color developed an intense fear of being alone again, leading to overattachment to those who show him kindness, like potentially Delta, Epic, etc. He goes to extreme lengths to stay connected, even if it puts him in harm’s way.

The scar, the damaged skull, and the missing eye feel like visible reminders of his failure. He struggles with feeling grotesque or unworthy of acceptance.

his own suffering make him highly empathetic toward others in pain, particularly those who feel abandoned or forgotten, like Killer. This shared understanding make him a deeply loyal and supportive ally.

The lingering guilt and despair may cause him to devalue his own life, making him reckless in dangerous situations. He might see his survival as unearned and act with disregard for his safety.

The isolation, paired with the trauma of being forgotten, erased, and replaced, likely resulted in Color being emotionally fragile, mentally fractured, and physically deteriorating.

It’s also worth taking into account if Color remembers everything about Gaster again or not, considering that Gaster fell into the Core (was implied to have jumped) and shattered, being forgotten (but not replaced like Color was) by everyone, meaning Sans may not have known completely who Gaster was when he first fell in.

This could result in intense identity confusion and disorientation, because Color holds two dual memories; one where Gaster was present, and one where he wasn’t and didn’t exist.

This could even lead to moments of intense confusion, anger, and fear when one moment he’s talking to Gaster but the next day he’s being comforted and hel by a complete stranger he can’t remember the name of.

His identity felt like something slipping away, with his desperate need for connection turning into a hollow, burning desire. These long years shape him into someone who is deeply mistrustful of others, fearful of being abandoned again, and increasingly haunted by his past mistakes when he finally leaves the Void and perhaps his own timeline.

Prolonged isolation can lead to auditory/visual hallucinations, particularly if Color’s mind tries to fill the void of human interaction. He might perceive the voices of the six souls or even imagine people from his past trying to reach out to him.

The blurred line between reality and memory could lead to moments of psychosis, where Color struggles to trust his own perceptions.

Given that in the caring short, color was all too willing to accept the possibility that he might’ve been seeing and hearing things and gaster is concerned that color was “talking to someone”—makes me think it’s really not a stretch to think that Color likely experienced periods of psychosis in the Void. Seeing and hearing things that aren’t there, feeling things.

I’m thinking the Human, the six human souls, probably Papyrus. If he is aware of what’s going on outside the Void, he possibly hallucinates Ivory/Undyne. he maybe hallucinates stuff about Gaster too, saying and doing things Gaster didn’t actually do.

he could also hallucinate that he’s dusting, cracking and dying, since it appears he probably would’ve died if the souls hadn’t kept him alive (and then later Gaster.)

Would also make sense if he’s hallucinated things like Undyne deliberately and knowingly replacing him, resulting in emotional anger, betrayal, hurt, jealousy—even if he logically knows the things he saw and heard weren’t real, and that Undyne doesn’t even know who he is anymore, he struggles to accept and realize it emotionally.

Without consistent access to nourishment (magical or otherwise), Color’s body might develop long-term issues like fatigue, atrophy, or brittle bones, especially if his skeletal structure is already prone to fragility.

Since Color has only one functioning eye, the prolonged isolation and lack of resources would worsen issues like eye strain or headaches, especially if he spent significant time in the dark or staring at the infinite void.

Lack of movement and injuries from past experiences (like scars from battles or trauma) could lead to persistent joint or nerve pain. The stress of isolation might also amplify his perception of physical pain.

The Void’s timeless nature likely eliminates a natural day-night cycle, leading to chronic insomnia or fragmented sleep. This, combined with emotional stress, could result in long-term physical exhaustion and cognitive impairment.

Being erased from existence and forgotten by everyone he cared about would challenge Color’s sense of self, potentially leading to derealization (“Is this real?”) and depersonalization (“Am I real?”).

His fragmented sense of identity, already influenced by the six souls, would likely worsen as he struggles to distinguish himself from the traits and voices of the absorbed souls, if he can hear them.

The lack of stimulation in the Void might cause memory issues, difficulty concentrating, and slowed processing speeds. He could struggle to focus or retain new information, especially after being released.

Being forgotten by everyone would reinforce a sense of worthlessness, as if his existence didn’t matter. At his worst and lowest moments, this could lead to chronic self-doubt, difficulty asserting himself, and a tendency to self-sabotage, believing he doesn’t deserve to be remembered or loved.

Being trapped in the Void with Gaster might lead Color to view existence as fragile and easily erased. He could develop an obsession with permanence, fearing that any connection or achievement could be erased just as easily as his past.

The loss of his family, friends, and timeline created a devastating sense of isolation, leaving Color craving connection while also fearing abandonment.

This might result in a desperate need to form bonds once freed, even if those bonds are unhealthy. Difficulty trusting others, as he fears they might leave or forget him again.

Knowing someone else, Undyne, took his place in his family create deep insecurities. He fears that even if he reconnects with Papyus, he won’t need or want him back. This could manifest as a reluctance to reach out to people he once cared about.

Clinging to anyone who shows him kindness, even at the expense of his own well-being. Overcompensating to prove his worth, becoming overly self-sacrificial in relationships.

While Color may not initially recognize it, he could harbor deep resentment toward his family for forgetting him, even though it wasn’t their fault. Toward the universe or fate for placing him in the Void and taking away his life. Toward Gaster for being his only companion but unable to provide meaningful connection.

Color would likely cling to memories of his timeline, romanticizing his past relationships and home. However, these memories might also bring deep pain, as they highlight everything he’s lost.

With Gaster his only companion, Color likely formed a complex bond with him, oscillating between gratitude for his presence and anger at being trapped with him.

Gaster’s cryptic nature frustrates Color, making him feel even more isolated, as Gaster does not fully understand or validate his emotions.

If Gaster provided guidance, Color might cling to him as a surrogate figure of authority, even if the relationship was unequal or strained.

Alternatively, Gaster’s enigmatic personality could exacerbate Color’s paranoia, making him question Gaster’s intentions or reliability.

After escaping, Color might constantly watch for signs that people are about to abandon or forget him again, leading to heightened anxiety and paranoia. He might try to make himself indispensable to others, fearing that if he isn’t needed, he’ll be forgotten.

While Color craves connection, he might avoid deep relationships at first, believing they’ll only end in rejection or loss. Guilt and feelings of unworthiness might lead him to push people away or avoid opportunities that could bring him happiness in the beginning.

Eventually he may surrounding himself with lots a connections and community, caring for each one and desperately not wanting to be alone again—finding the pain of being alone outweighs the potential pain of rejection and loss.

He knows many people but he often avoids talking about himself too much—possibly feeling that it’s pointless to try and explain, or more likely, not having the words to explain. Not knowing how to word it, how to explain in a way others could understand or relate to.

[allthelovenina]

Levi Ackerman x reader

Angst, sfw, slight spoilers for season 4

Something was on your mind. Levi could tell,, but he couldn't exactly put his finger on it. You were losing weight and those eyebags under your eyes weren't unnoticed by him.

It pissed him off. He wasn't pissed just because of your change of habits, but also, the fact that you haven't opened up to him. Why wouldn't you tell him what's bothering you? Wasn't he safe enough for you? Did you not trust him? Perhaps you thought you would bug him.

He had enough of waiting and giving you time. He was going to ask you himself. He found you in the common kitchen one night, you were drinking tea and staring out the window, at the view of the training field. 'Now or never' he thought to himself.

"Hey, brat. Why are you still awake?"

You turned to the voice, the short figure of his standing in the dark, in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hello captain. I could ask you the same."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know I don't need much sleep. What's bothering you? You look like you have a stick up in your ass lately."

You chuckled. His mannerisms when he spoke never failed to make you laugh.

"It's fine. Just...overworking. That's all."

That was a lie. The real reason you've been stressed out was because you finally realized how much you loved Levi and that scared the shit out of you considering how fragile and unstable the situation of Paradis was. Sure, the fact that Eren was gone all by himself in the land of the enemy, the hatred your island was receiving from the whole world and the unavoidable war played their parts. Perhaps if it was 2 years ago when things were much less complicated, you wouldn't be this messed up. But right now you already had so much on your plate and Levi was a new topping on that. You found yourself constantly worried about him, it was ridiculous. You, worrying about the strongest man in the world.

Your sadistic brain kept you up all night thinking about going to Marley, only to lose Levi to their government. Oh if only they knew the power he possessed and the whole "Ackerman clan" history, they would capture him, drug him, put him in a cage and make him mate with random women like an animal just to give them more kids like him and once they are done, they'll leave him with another tragic story. Same thing...no...worse implied to Mikasa. You were so worried about them yet, it was only rational to put those two in the front line because they were the strongest ones.

"You're a talented liar, you know? Except that I can easily tell when you're lying."

"I'm not. Why would I?"

He was annoyed, frowned and clicked his tongue. "Stress is nothing new to you, yet I've never seen you like this. No matter what, you've always been so..."

"Levi, it's fine." He stopped as you interrupted him and let out a breathy sight. "That tea is clearly too cold."

You raised an eyebrow, he could see the amusement in your tired eyes.

He didn't have to know. That's what he realized and why he changed the topic. He needed to stop and calm down. You'd tell him if you wanted to. He had to respect that like he always did. He noticed the sadness and stress in almost everyone and let them be unless they reached out to him for help, but why couldn't he do the same about you? Why did he have to know what was wrong with you? Why was he worried sick in his stomach?

"Let me make you another one, will you?"

"Hmm...I wouldn't mind. Thank you."

Fine, don't tell me.

The next few days were hell for him, at this point he was the one with a stick in the ass. Grumpier than usual, scarier than ever. Even Hange barely could find the guts to talk to him. They would ask you to deliver their messages unless it was something that needed to be discussed face to face, even in that case they asked you to be there during the meeting.

One day, he came to your office with a cupcake in his hand. He remembers the first time he ate one. That was when you offered him one and told him how much you loved cupcakes. He absolutely hated it. Too sweet for his liking that he could throw it up. He left the cupcake on your desk.

"You eating this crap is better than you not eating at all, I guess."

You smiled as you saw the cupcake and took a bite. The flavour brought back your memories of the good old days. Man, you'd never thought you'd be calling those days 'the good old days'. Nanaba, Erwin and Mike. Levi's old squad, your old squad... all gone and the remaining cadets seemed so different now. The rush of memories brought tears to your eyes as your mouth was still full. Your shaking lips and teary eyes didn't go unnoticed by Levi.

"What the hell are you crying about?" His tune sounded a little harsh but mostly concerned. You couldn't tell him, he didn't need a reminder of the ones who got away. Swallowed the cake as tears fell your eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Levi..."

It was as if that was all he needed to hear to figure out everything. He patted your head with sad eyes. "Eat that all, please."

[signanothername]

within colors group (delta and epic) who do you think is the strongest and weakest magically/physically?

Ooohhhh ok that’s a good question but also a bit of a hard one to answer

Imma treat physically and magically as two completely different things cause I believe that it’s more fitting for the group

Ok physically i’d say Delta’s the strongest, cause unlike Color and Epic who mostly use their long ranged magic in combat, Delta is a close combat kinda guy every time he fights, so his body had definitely adapted to that close combat style, this bitch has bones of steel

But it also raises the question, Epic had to endure over 20 years of fighting in his nightmares cause of his eye, which had him endure the pain inflected upon him in those nightmares in which it felt “so real” to him, so would that make him physically strong or simply give him the experience/endurance and speed to dodge? I honestly don’t know hcchhvhvvh

I’d say Color would be the weakest physically, his body is already a bit unstable/ fragile after absorbing the 6 souls, he can easily be injured and it can be extremely debilitating for him if he did, so Color mostly keeps distance when he fights

Magic wise tho Color would be the strongest, he absorbed the 6 souls after all, his magic can be extremely powerful, and while that comes with the downside of not being able to use it however he pleases (cause again, his body is fragile and can’t handle such power), Color is smart and he definitely knows how to keep balance of his powers for as long as he possibly can

I honestly don’t know who’d be the weakest, considering both Epic and Delta have powerful magic, Delta has the bravery human soul infused within him and Epic has his artificial glowing eye, both give them extreme advantage magic wise

Delta’s magic is powerful but i’d say that his creativity when using his magic combined with his bravery and close combat skills is what makes Delta a very powerful opponent

Epic has the advantage of being basically invincible and it’s pretty much impossible for him to die cause his eye has the power to regenerate him, as well as the fact it makes it so it learns and grows stronger each time Epic fights (which he’d been doing for 20 years in his head) so Epic’s abilities can grow to become something more

So does that mean Epic’s eye give him the advantage magic wise and might make him more powerful than Delta? Maybe, but would his ever growing magic actually reach a point in which he’s actually more powerful than a monster who’s infused with a human soul? Idk

But i’d say both Epic and Delta are almost on the same level magic wise, or if they are different the difference is too small to be of any significance

Anyway i love this trio so much your honor <33333

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Red and Loyal” pt.4

Commander Fox x Senator Reader

They brought her out at dusk.

The sky above the capital bled violet and gold, and the light made her look almost ethereal as she was marched up the execution platform. Chained. Stoic. Dignified even in ruin.

Crowds were forced to gather—citizens herded into the central square at blaster-point. Droids lined the rooftops. Separatist banners hung in place of the planet’s colors, waving like a threat in the wind.

She climbed the steps herself. Unassisted.

And when she reached the top, she paused��not for fear. But to look at them. Her People.

Their eyes were wide with despair, faces hollow from weeks of fear. Some wept. Others stood still. Waiting. Hoping. A broadcast droid hovered beside the stage, recording every breath. Streaming it across the planet.

A voice crackled through the speakers: “The prisoner has been granted final words.”

And that’s when she stepped forward.

Back straight. Chin raised. Wrists still bound in front of her.

The wind caught her hair as she spoke.

Clear. Commanding. Unshaken.

“To those watching—this is not the end. Not of me, and not of our world.”

“The Separatists think that by putting me to death, they are ending our resistance. But they have forgotten something: power taken by force is fragile. It fears truth. It fears unity. It fears voices like mine, and hearts like yours.”

“They want me to kneel. They want me to beg. But I will not.”

“I will not validate tyranny with silence.”

“You are not alone. You are not broken. And this planet—my home—is not theirs to take.”

“Let my death be the last one they claim. Let it mark the moment we stop fearing them.”

“Let it mark the beginning.”

The droids shifted.

The crowd held its breath.

She smiled, just a little—chin still raised, defiant.

“Now do what you came to do.”

⸻

Inside the lead gunship, the air was thick with silence—not calm. No one dared speak.

General Kenobi stood near the holoprojector at the center of the cabin, his arms crossed, lips pressed into a grim line. The flickering holo-feed of the senator’s execution streamed in front of him, unstable from planetary interference—but still very real.

Commander Cody stood beside him, helmet in the crook of his arm, eyes fixed.

The Senator stood tall at the execution stage, her final words still ringing through the feed like a siren in every clone’s chest.

Then—movement.

A droid officer stepped forward. The executioner. Mechanical. Cold. Lifting the electro-guillotine’s lever with clinical efficiency.

A hush fell over the crowd in the square. And the gunship. Cody’s hand curled tight around his helmet.

Kenobi’s voice was low, nearly a whisper “Punch it. Full speed. No stealth.”

“Sir, we’re still—”

“I said punch it.”

The gunship lurched forward, engines screaming. Through the cockpit, the capital city loomed on the horizon—flames and smoke rising in dark plumes, Separatist cruisers blotting the sky.

The other ships of the 212th fell into formation behind them.

Then— Back on the holo, the droid’s hand reached for the trigger.

Cody spoke, rough and urgent:

“ETA?!”

“Forty-five seconds!”

“That’s too long!” Cody snapped, slamming his helmet on.

Kenobi looked at him.

And Cody looked back, voice hard and cracking.

“We’re not losing her. Not today.”

The droid’s arm lifted. The crowd gasped—some screamed. The Senator did not flinch.

And then— A shriek cut through the sky.

Not from the crowd. But from the air above.

Gunships.

The sky erupted in sound and fire. The first blaster bolts rained down on the droid ranks from above—precision strikes that sent sparks and scrap flying. Clones rappelled from hatches, dropping in formation onto the stage and into the square, weapons drawn.

The executioner droid turned its head toward the noise—too slow.

Cody landed hard, blaster raised, shot clean through its neck.

“Move!” he barked, before even touching ground fully.

He was at her side in seconds, cutting her binders off with a vibroblade, catching her by the elbow as explosions tore through the square.

She stared at him, breathless—confused, stunned.

“Told a friend I’d bring you home,” he said, already pulling her toward the evac point.

She could barely hear over the thunder of battle, but—

“Fox?” she managed to ask.

Cody gave her a sharp look.

“He’s waiting.”

The capital was a storm.

The skies above roared with the thunder of Republic gunships, a flurry of blaster fire lighting up the heavens. Clones dropped from the ships like falling stars, armor gleaming through the smoke. The ground was a mess of war cries and destruction. Explosions lit up the streets as they tore through the Separatist droids, reclaiming what had once been the heart of a peaceful planet.

Commander Cody led the charge through the square, his blaster spitting rapid fire as he moved with precision. The 212th behind him was a wall of determined soldiers, every step driven by the need to push back the invaders.

The Senator was not far behind, protected now by Cody and a handful of soldiers. She had been silent after their initial exchange, still catching up to the fact that she had not just been freed, but had escaped. That moment, the seconds between life and death, still played in her mind. But now, her survival was in her hands—her people were counting on her to lead.

Cody’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Keep moving! We retake the streets, now!”

He fired again, taking down a B1 battle droid that had been lining up to fire on them. The clatter of its parts hitting the ground was quickly drowned out by the next round of blaster fire.

The droids were falling fast—at first, it had been a gamble, a sudden drop on the city with the 212th spearheading the attack. The Separatists had been too scattered, too slow to adapt.

Kenobi’s gunship circled low, dodging enemy fire, as the General looked toward the street where Cody had just led a successful push.

“Cody, report,” Kenobi called over comms, his voice calm but laced with urgency.

“We’re advancing into the city center, General,” Cody’s voice crackled through the comm.

“The Separatists are holding strong, but we’re pushing through. We have Senator [Y/N] with us.”

Kenobi paused, a hint of something like relief crossing his face.

“Understood. We’ll clear the way from here. Hold your position.”

The Senator was breathless but unwavering as they moved. She could feel her pulse pounding in her chest as they cut through alleyways and streets, the sounds of blaster fire and explosions echoing around them.

“We’re close,” Cody said, glancing over his shoulder. He had a protective edge in his eyes now, the intensity in his posture evident. “We’ll get you to safety, but you need to stay down.”

She nodded, moving faster, more instinctive than ever. She had always been a symbol of hope, but now, in the face of overwhelming danger, her defiance turned into raw strength.

Her eyes flashed as she scanned the buildings ahead of them.

“We must take back the government building. We need to signal the people of this planet.”

Cody didn’t argue. There was no time for it. They continued their advance, cutting through Separatist forces as they went.

As they neared the government building, they were met with resistance.

A small battalion of droids stood guard, the tallest among them a heavily armored AAT. The droid commander barked orders as blaster fire erupted in every direction.

“Cover fire!” Cody yelled.

The squad spread out, with Thire, Stone, and the others taking positions to cover the senator. The sound of blaster fire echoed back and forth, the crash of explosions reverberating in the streets.

Cody moved first, leaping into the fray with blaster raised, cutting through the advancing droids. His men followed suit, the ground littered with the bodies of fallen droids and debris.

And then, from above—the unmistakable roar of an incoming Republic ship.

The 212th’s gunship descended rapidly, flanking the droids from the rear and creating chaos in their ranks.

Kenobi’s voice rang out over comms, firm and commanding.

“Cody, the building is clear. Move the senator there. We’ll handle the remaining forces.”

Without hesitation, Cody gestured to the senator.

“This way, Senator,” he said, his tone softer now.

She nodded, allowing herself to be guided into the government building’s entrance. The sounds of the battle faded for a moment as they crossed the threshold.

The Republic forces held their ground.

Minutes later, the Separatists began to retreat, their lines weakening under the relentless pressure from Kenobi and his men.

As the last of the droids fell and the gunships circled overhead, the city slowly began to settle. The fires still burned, the sky still blackened with smoke—but for the first time in weeks, there was something that felt like hope.

Cody took a moment, his blaster still at the ready, scanning the surroundings for any remaining threats. The senator stood tall beside him, her eyes locked on the city outside the window.

“We’ve done it,” she murmured, though her voice lacked the triumph one might expect.

“Not yet,” Cody said, his gaze steady. “But we will.”

⸻

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[rudnitskaia]

About the world of l𖦹g.OS and some info on the characters which I showed a bit earlier. Perceive these notes as the compilation of concepts for the game that are constantly meticulously brewing in my head since 2023.

bonus: one of the sketches of Bell in her almost current design

MANY-LETTERS-UNDER-THE-CUT-ALERT. I WARNED YOU. MANY!

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THE ANNOTATION

The world of Umbra — the thriving land of dead. Any newcomer is welcomed and can find a place to stay at the Nine Islands. And those who have enough courage may try to take a journey to prove that they're worth of revival in the Land of the Living, known as Beyond.

At least it was like that before Umbra started to fall apart.

Things mix their places. People forget things. Even simple tasks could become not accomplishable. Everything is going out of order... spiraling out of control.

In the middle of all this stays Bell — the only Tuner left in Umbra who tries her best to maintain the ruining land of dead, completely alone. Every time the alarm system in her house — which also is simultaneously the Tuners' base, — rings, signaling about new problems, Bell gets up, takes her tuning fork and goes to find and fix broken things and events in the afterlife world.

Again. And again. And again. And again…

When suddenly the Newcomer appears, which didn't happen in a very long time, Bell goes with them to assist in their journey through the unpredictable, unstable world.

By choosing whom and how to help in Umbra, Bell must find a way to help the Newcomer achieve revival and, as she hopes, to find a way of returning other Tuners back to Umbra.

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SOME REAL MAIN EVENTS AND CONCEPTUAL DETAILS

(idk if i should put spoiler alert here but there's mainly the info that we're suppose to discover during the playthrough; if you're proceeding to read it, then you agree that you won't hit me with a slipper for spoilers)

The world of Umbra is a self-developing next-generation open-world (optionally cooperative) AI game that was supposed to dynamically adjust its world, NPCs and therefore playthrough for each player, but unfortunately it was never released. It accidentally stayed launched on its developer's switched-on computer when the humanity was destroyed in the nuclear war.

Umbra's inhabitants consist of many autonomous free-will (i.e. sentient) NPCs that can still be originally designed to do some specific work (as Manolo and Norah), and Tuners — programmatic operators of main game functions. Only Tuners had access to the information about the real situation of artificial origins of their world and the fact that they're presumably the only intelligent, though digital, species that survived.

There were only four Tuners: Gai, or Gai de Vire (Generative Artificial Intelligence DEveloping VIrtual REality), Lan, or Lanser (LAN Server), Quil (Quest-Inventing Loop) and Bell (Bug-Eliminating Level Launcher).

After discovering the truth about humanity and understanding the fragility of their universe, i.e. computer, and its dependence on the electricity, Tuners found a way to hack and connect to the hydroelectric power station's control center through the net. But since the game and its AI wasn't designed for such a difficult task, and writing commands to the control center required all their efforts, Tuners involved all NPCs in this process by re-adjusting Umbra's original reward system into Tasks to Time and Time to Goods (TTG) exchange system. That means, in reality each in-game Task represents (and masks) a part of the command for the hydroelectric power station's control center. Each NPC that completes an in-game task (quest), gains Time as a reward, in reality putting a necessary brick to writing code for commands for the control center.

Time in the afterlife is both the vital source of life and the main currency that Umbra's inhabitants can "spend" on various Goods from the land of the living, including food that is considered as "conservated Time".

The more calavera markings a person has on their sugar skeleton and the more they glow, the more Time they have at their disposal. The last thing that extinguishes is the person's eyes. If one runs completely out of Time and their eyes extinguish, nothing can bring them back to life (or rather afterlife). From the AI's perspective those NPCs that can't spend and save Time rationally are perceived as useless and therefore should be eliminated or replaced.

Originally, for a player, Umbra offered a journey through the afterlife world to explore it, accomplish various quests and find a way to "revive", therefore after the nuclear war the game in the absence of players became not passable.

By the time when the Newcomer suddenly visits Umbra, this digital world is in such a state that they can neither morph into a sugar skeleton form, appearing as a simple floating ball of light, nor complete the journey alone. Bell, led by curiosity, goes on a journey with them as a support to help them complete the game (that explains why technically we play for Bell — the Newcomer is unable to do anything on their own and Bell simply implements their will).

Bell fears that if the game will be completed, Umbra will shut down. That's why in the end you can either let the Newcomer finish the game or make them stay in Umbra, looping their journey and making them re-pass the game again and again.

The main travelling method between Umbra's locations and especially its Islands is the laundromat navigation system (LNS or how people call it, LaNS). Umbra inhabitants travel through LaNS literally inserting a coin, getting into the laundry machine and washing themselves away, appearing in another laundry machine in the location they chose beforehand. I got this idea when I heard the phrase about cleansing our souls. I snorted and imagined a washing machine that washes a dirty soul like a t-shirt. That's it. I kept this concept, both because it's funny and has a strong bond with the spiral theme of l𖦹g.OS.

In the current events of l𖦹g.OS LaNS is unstable, i.e. broken, and, despite citizens' discontent, Bell keeps to find excuses to not repair it (though, technically, at least that she can do). She does that because Lanser gave her a promise to repair it himself before he disappeared. Bell has a deep inner fear that if she repairs LaNS, Lanser won't come back, because he'll lose the only unfinished task that still connects him to Umbra. Nowadays Bell is the only one who can rather safely travel around Umbra and help everyone accomplish their Tasks to gain Time.

While the characters in my idea are going to be "voiced" by various musical instruments, the soundtrack in l𖦹g.OS will consist from the street and furniture noises, i.e. simple harmonized noises of the everyday life. The more bugged the recent location is, the more these noises will turn from a consonant melody into cacophony. When Bell fixes things, the melody goes back to tuned.

-----💀-----

About the characters I showed, in order of appearance in the story (ofc there are more, but I prefer to tell about ones I already drew :3)

Bell (Bug-Eliminating Level Launcher) is the main character and the only Tuner left in Umbra, who tries her best to maintain the ruining land of dead alone and find the way to contact with the missing Tuners. Though her belief in their return is strong, day by day it wilts with the dying world. She has no access to their operational functions in the system, therefore she does the only thing that she can and for which she was designed: non-stopably eliminates the ever multiplying errors and bugs. The thing that turned into a completely Sisyphean task. Bell is extremely tired, but still hopes that in the end everything will be fine. Voice: obviously, Bell speaks in sounds of bells, the timbre and the pitch range of which depends on her mood.

Norah is the psychopomp of Umbra who helps the newcomers to morph into a sugar skeleton and delivers them to the shores of the First Island. She's also the fiancée of Gai de Vire and the only person who dares to accomplish Tasks that appear in the Sea of Memories. Norah believed she died from an incurable disease. In secret, Norah knows what Tuners know, because Gai told her this way before he left, but she hid her jaw not to tell it to the others and pretends she's oblivious. Voice: none now, because she lost her jaw and therefore ability to talk, but previously Norah spoke in sounds of lyre. Fun fact: despite Bell was the first character from which the story started in my head, Norah was the one who brought the major strokes to the world of Umbra with herself. Her core inspirations: Charon, Lenore and Eleonora, have a rich intertwining with the afterlife concepts and therefore established many main aspects of the worldbuilding. Aside of that, there are some references to Poe's pieces here and there (which I won't mention, leaving it to your future discover), because I adored his literary works in my youth; forgive me that much. x))

Manolo is the only kid in Umbra — energetic, eager to communicate and learn, always making the days brighter with his upbeat attitude. It's believed that children's souls go straight to reincarnation, yet Manolo, for some reason, became an exception of this rule. No one, except the Tuners, knows of his cruel fate. He is designed to be a friendly companion NPC that eagerly shows and explains the newcomers how to do this or that. Unlike Norah, who just welcomes and delivers the newcomers to the shore, Manolo is a huge lore keeper and enthusiastic support at the first steps of every newcomer. He doesn't remember how he died, that's why believes he died in his sleep. He can be met in the village on the First Island and usually can be found on the streets, at Beata's treehouse or sticking around Bell, to whom he always wants to help. Voice: melodica.

Beata is a nice old lady with obsession on plants. She can knit you whatever you want. She lives on the First Island in a treehouse. Once she was a nun, but then someone switched her holy book with Lord of The Rings and she left her church and joined the tolkienists club after reading it. She died at the very old age from drinking bleach instead of milk. She has many stories to tell, that's why Manolo usually sticks around her. Many of those stories, usually told in a cheerful manner, are anecdotes about how people she knew personally or heard about died in very dumb ways. Voice: harmonica.

Bono, or Boniface was once a qualified veterinarian, who died on a punk concert, because someone bashed his skull with a bottle of beer — that's why his skull has a star-shaped hole in it. Bono is a very eager music lover who spends his Time on the music instruments and vinyl records from Beyond, sugar cigarettes (please tell me you also remember those from the times when you were kids 😭) and treats for Gunter. If Bell calls him Bony-face, he calls her Eggface in return because of her head shape, but it's nothing but a friendly banter. Voice: electric guitar.

Gunter is presumably a cat — Bono secretly reassembled him like a children's building kit from the various animal bones he dug out somewhere in Umbra ("at last someone found unused assets haha", thinks the dead game developer) and made him paper ears so he at least would look like something distantly cat-ish. How he brought him to life is unknown, because it's the common knowledge that once you're dead in Umbra, nothing can bring you back. So Gunter can be very much a glitch/anomaly. Voice: Thanks to our real cat Sonya, Gunter sounds like theremin, because our cat's meows made me used to calling her theremincat (кошка-терменвошка или просто терменкошка).

-----💀-----

I haven't drawn them yet, because, well, in my idea they won't visibly appear in-game rather than in talks (i.e. others' memories) until the very end, if ever appear at all, but they deserve to be mentioned in the first post, too. Other three lost Tuners:

Gai, or Gai de Vire (Generative Artificial Intelligence DEveloping VIrtual REality). The first Tuner — the runaway captain of this drowning digital ship. Maintained the stability of the main operational system, keeping the consonance of the system's parts and coordinating the self-recreating computation model and developing processes. He came to the conclusion that their world is artificially limited in development and their surviving method is only a half-measure, and he can't find a more efficient solution for their problem with current recourses they possess. That's why he tricked Lan into letting him go through the Gate to the Main Network to find (or build) a more sustainable, durable base for further development. Voice: contrabass clarinet.

Lan, or Lanser (LAN Server). The Tuner who established and maintained Umbra's travelling mechanisms and maintained stable net connection with Beyond. Though being an artificial being, he was mesmerized by the human world and their scientific development and dreamed of building a path to Beyond to see it with his own eyes. But, unlike Gai, Lan was against abandoning Umbra and under the pressure of guilt after revealing Gai's real intentions he left to pursue and bring Gai back to Umbra, since Gai was the only one who had access to the main operational system. Voice: bass trombone. I understand how awfully ridiculous it sounds that Lanser created LaNS, but I can't not find this definitely-not-intentional-coinsidence-in-names endearing in the context of his character depiction.

Quil (Quest-Inventing Loop). The Tuner who maintained the stability of plotline development and configured the judging systems of tasks accomplishment and fair exchange of Tasks to Time and Time to Goods. He was the one who suggested how to transform in-game quests into commands for the hydroelectric power station's control center. When Gai left, he went with Lan to help him bring Gai back. Voice: tambourine.

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, sexual assault, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 2]

(Chapter 40)

The Green Witch

The throne room was cold despite the golden light that reflected off its polished floors. It wasn't the temperature—Asgard was a place of warmth and radiance—but the sheer weight of the moment that made the air feel sharp.

Loki knelt before Odin, his wrists bound in enchanted cuffs, his usually smooth expression marred by exhaustion and something else—something only Y/N could recognize after what she had seen in his mind. Guilt.

But it didn’t stop him from keeping up appearances.

"I come home, and no warm welcome?" Loki said, his voice honeyed with mockery. "Honestly, I’m hurt."

Odin’s grip on his spear tightened. "You should be," he thundered, his voice echoing through the grand hall. "You betrayed your people. You brought war to Midgard, conspired with forces beyond your comprehension, and slaughtered the innocent."*

Loki smirked, but Y/N could see the way his fingers curled, the slight twitch in his jaw. "Beyond my comprehension?" he echoed. "Is that what you think of me? That I am incapable of understanding power?"

"You do not understand power," Odin said, rising from his throne, his golden armor gleaming under the torches. "You are blinded by it. You believe it grants you control, but you are the one who has been controlled."*

Loki’s smirk faltered for the smallest of moments.

Y/N swallowed hard. He knows, she thought. He must know.

But Odin didn’t elaborate.

Instead, he took a step forward, his gaze hard and unyielding. "You were given every opportunity, Loki. You were raised as a prince, as my son. Yet time and time again, you turn away from your family, from honor. You are lost."*

Loki’s breath hitched. Barely a sound—but Y/N caught it. A flicker. A fracture.

It was gone just as quickly, buried beneath the mask he always wore. That familiar sneer pulled tight across his face, all pride and venom.

“It was my birthright to do so—” he snapped, voice sharp with anger, almost too sharp.

But before the sentence could finish, it was drowned by a thunderous roar.

“Your birthright was to die!” Odin’s voice echoed in Y/N’s mind, cruel and final.

The words struck like a whip, not just at Loki, but through her too.

Because she remembered.

In the brief, violent flashes from when her hand had met his skin, she had seen it.

The cold.

The abandonment.

A fragile, trembling infant—skin icy blue, eyes wide and terrified—left in the snow like he was nothing. Less than nothing. A discarded secret.

He hadn’t always been this bitter god before her. He had been a child once. Unwanted.

And in that moment, as his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened, Y/N saw not the villain they all claimed he was—but the boy still bleeding beneath the god.

And it made her chest ache.

Because no matter how monstrous he had become…

She knew exactly what had made him.

"And now you will remain lost," Odin continued, his voice final. "You are to be imprisoned for the rest of your days. You will never see Midgard again. You will never rule. You will never be free."*

Loki didn’t reply.

The room was silent except for the flickering of flames against the marble.

Then, without another word, Odin motioned to the guards. "Take him to his cell."*

Loki turned just slightly as they gripped his arms, and for the briefest moment, his gaze met Y/N’s.

There was something knowing in it, something unspoken.

And then he was gone.

Silence lingered even after the grand doors shut behind Loki. Y/N shifted awkwardly beside Thor, suddenly feeling very out of place.

That feeling didn’t last long.

Odin’s one eye turned to her next, pinning her in place. "And now to you," he said. "Why have you come?"

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, but Thor stepped forward. "She seeks guidance, Father," he explained. "Her power is growing, and she does not yet understand it."*

Odin exhaled sharply through his nose, looking Y/N over, and for the first time, she felt small.

"I have heard of you, Y/N Rogers," he said. "The myths, the prophecies, the whispers across the realms."*

Y/N frowned. "Okay, see, that’s the second time I’ve heard that, and I still don’t know what the hell it means."*

Odin’s expression darkened. "It means you are dangerous."*

Y/N blinked. "Wow. Okay. Rude."*

"You wield the power of the Tesseract," Odin continued, ignoring her sarcasm. "You have been touched by the Mind Stone. You have taken in magic that was never meant for you."*

That made her hesitate.

"Magic?" she repeated slowly. "I don’t have magic."*

Odin scoffed. "Then what do you think it is that you do?"

Y/N opened her mouth—then paused.

She had never really thought about it. The teleportation, the energy bursts, the mind reading, the telekinesis… they were powers, sure, but she had just chalked it up to the effects of the Infinity Stones.

But now Odin was calling it something else.

Magic.

Her head spun.

"I do not wish to see you gain any more colors," Odin muttered.

That, she really didn’t understand. "What does that even mean?" she demanded. "Why does everyone keep talking like I’m some kind of walking rainbow?"

"Because the Green Witch is only the beginning," Odin said gravely. "If left unchecked, there will be more."*

That was the last straw.

"Listen, Allfather or whatever," Y/N snapped, throwing up her hands. "I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be some ‘Green Witch.’ I came here because I’m trying to control this—not—" she gestured wildly, "—become some mythical prophecy or whatever the hell you’re talking about."*

A thick silence followed.

Odin’s eye narrowed, but before he could speak, a new voice cut in.

"Perhaps she is right."*

Frigga stepped forward, her expression soft yet calculating. "She does not seek chaos, husband. She seeks guidance. Should we deny her that?"

Odin inhaled deeply. "And what happens when she loses control?"

"Then it is better she learns here, where she can be guided," Frigga countered smoothly. "For the good of the Nine Realms."*

There was another pause. Then, begrudgingly, Odin let out a sigh. "Very well."*

Y/N blinked. "Wait, that’s it?"

"You may stay."* Odin’s gaze was still hard. "But you will be watched."*

Y/N huffed a small laugh. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."*

Frigga smiled faintly, clearly entertained, but said nothing.

Odin turned to Thor. "See to it she is shown her quarters. And make sure she does not wander where she is not welcome."*

Thor let out an amused breath as he nodded, then turned to Y/N. "Come," he said. "I will show you the palace."*

Y/N exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well. That was… something."*

Thor chuckled. "You handled yourself well. Odin can be… stubborn."*

"Understatement of the century."*

He laughed again, leading her through the golden halls. Asgard was overwhelming—bright, elegant, yet somehow not as suffocating as she expected. It was peaceful, despite everything.

As they walked, Thor glanced at her curiously. "Tell me, Y/N Rogers. What will you do now that you are here?"

Y/N sighed, looking ahead. "I guess I figure out what the hell I am."*

Thor nodded thoughtfully. "You are not alone in that."*

She looked up at him, and for the first time, she saw something familiar in his expression. Something almost… understanding.

A small smile tugged at her lips. "You’re alright, Thor."*

He grinned. "And you, Green Witch, are not as terrifying as Father seems to think."*

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as they continued walking.

And for the first time since arriving, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she had made the right choice.

[tenderwatches]

Ch. 33 of Lies We Tell Ourselves is up!

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

chapter teaser

‎𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

chapter excerpt

Chapter 33: In Glorious Evolution

The meeting place Viktor has chosen sits at the farthest point of the wharf, where conversations can dissolve into the ambient sounds of lapping water and distant machinery. Few venture this far out; the fragility of the structure discourages casual traffic. Crates of varying sizes cluster at the edge, remnants of shipments long since processed and forgotten.

He shifts, redistributing his weight to ease the sharp ache building in his hip from sitting on one such crate. As a chair, it leaves much to be desired, but seeing that the trip down to the wharfs has rendered him near catatonic with fatigue, he’s grateful for any place to sit, even if it’s a rickety, barnacle-growing crate. Though the night is cool, it’s humid, and the gusts of air over the water make him draw the blanket around his shoulders (ridiculous though it is, Jayce insisted he take it) tighter around himself.

Two silhouettes materialise from the fog—one striding with purpose, the second with a step so quick it is almost gleeful. Viktor glances from the approaching figures to the other side of the wharf, where the sounds of dock workers echo from further away. No sign of Ekko. Viktor leans his weight into his crutch and stands with a soft groan, ignoring the protest of his aching joints.

Violet walks up to him first, her face pinched with apprehension. Jinx hovers behind her, electric blue eyes scanning the mist-shrouded dock as if expecting an ambush.

“Good evening,” Viktor greets, too tired to properly assuage their fears.

They exchange a glance—Violet's questioning, Jinx's unreadable—a silent negotiation forged through blood, betrayal, and tentative reconciliation. Violet jerks her chin, the motion seeming to act half as a permissive nod and half as a gesture towards Viktor.

When Jinx hands over the shimmer, there’s a peculiar care in the action that doesn’t match her usual frenetic movements. Her fingers curl around the vial protectively before releasing it, as if its contents represent something beyond mere chemical value.

“One count of your-bad-decisions-in-a-vial, as requested,” she announces, but beneath the performative nonchalance, something flickers—a shadow crossing her face too quickly to name. “Vi said you’re trying to do some kind of doctor shit.”

Viktor accepts the shimmer, pausing to glance between the two sisters. He supposes it’s only fair Jinx know what she’s getting involved in. “In a manner of speaking,” he answers, tucking the vial away without looking at it. “If our theory is correct, properly refined shimmer could be the key to accessing incredible healing power.”

“To fix problems like yours?” Her eyes, bright in a way that makes him think of beacons, fix upon his face with unnerving clarity. He briefly wonders which ‘problem’ of his she’s referring to. He shrugs.

“Among others.”

The chaotic energy that typically radiates from her becomes sharp, and Viktor feels it like a focused beam. She studies him, head tilted like a predator assessing prey, before stepping back with a decisive nod. “Good enough. For now.” The last words carry a subtle warning—her cooperation has terms, conditions unspoken, perhaps not even understood, but certainly acknowledged.

“Good enough for what, exactly?”

Viktor turns too quickly, balance wavering as his crutch slips on the damp wood. Ekko stands at the far end of the dock, silhouetted against the grey haze of the city. His stance is coiled as if to make himself impervious, hood pulled low over his face.

Then, Ekko sees Jinx. The temperature seems to plummet by several degrees. The wharf no longer feels like neutral ground but a battlefield with unstable alliances—all it would take is a word, a movement, a spark, even in this dampness.

“What is she doing here?” His words cut across the distance, salt-bitten and sharp like a gust at sea.

Ekko, wary to begin with as always, was a hard sell when it came to the necessity of using shimmer. Ekko’s initial reaction—plants overturned, notes scattered like startled birds taking flight, Thomas looking as if he might leap the barrier like a terrified jackrabbit—had been predictable, even manageable. But this, the venom in his voice at the sight of Jinx, Viktor has failed to account for.

Violet’s shoulders square, her body angling to position herself between her sister and Ekko. Jinx goes unnaturally still, her frantic air condensed into something harder, more dangerous.

“I have a request that requires your collaboration,” Viktor says into the charged silence, each word measured. “I thought it most efficient to address you all at once.”

He watches the calculation behind Ekko’s eyes, the furious recalibration as his hands clench into fists, tension rippling up his forearms. His jaw locks, the muscle there twitching beneath skin that’s gone tight with restraint.

This is not a very auspicious start to the meeting.

(Read the rest on AO3!)(Or start from the beginning!)

[wisefoxluminary]

Vigor: an essay on Toxic Masculinity in The Boys - character analysis of Soldier Boy and Homelander

So The Boys account posted the full magazine cover of Soldier Boy that Kimiko was reading in the recent episode and a interesting detail caught my eye. Years after his supposed death, Soldier Boy is a poster child of a men's health magazine titled Vigor, a word commonly associated with physical strength and good health. Soldier Boy is a symbol of a true patriotic America and how all men should act. They don't make men like that anymore because Soldier Boy's influence is still strong. This cover is very striking to me as it supports the idea that all men need to be strong and conform to the societal norm. Encouraging men to break up with their girlfriends or to not enjoy interests that aren't associated with manhood etc. There really is an underlying issue of toxic masculinity as Soldier Boy is a literal representation of it. Men are supposed to be strong and that by showing emotion, it is considered weakness. To fit into society, men need to adopt machismo traits in order to preserve their image. Soldier Boy represents how a man should act and behave, we see in season 3 about his outdated views on how men should dress and act, especially his belittling of Hughie.

Men who align themselves with toxic masculinity normally have toxic role models. People in the public eye who have a bad influence on young boys, they further encourage/bring out their toxic traits and mold them into the worst version of themselves per Soldier Boy's warped idolization of Bill Crosby whom he considers to be America's dad when he is far from it. Bullying and deliberately harmed others because they feel they are a threat to their masculine pride just like Soldier Boy's abusive treatment of Black Noir and Soldier Boy considering Homelander, his own son, a disappointment because he doesn't know how to be a father and he sees himself reflecting in Homelander's eyes, the man his father thought had cheated to get compound V in his system, passing on that cycle of abuse and toxic masculinity to Homelander who is slowly breaking under his own pressure and passing that down onto Ryan. We had the scene prior to this of Butcher and Soldier Boy talking about their own abusive fathers and this is key to his character. By becoming his father, Soldier Boy can reject his own flesh and blood and thus driving everyone else to turn against him. This is conflict uprooted in toxic masculinity.

Homelander idolised Soldier Boy way before he learned that he was his father and his desire to reunite stemming from his need to be loved and thus being rejected by him really shakes up Homelander's world. He goes through a mid-life crisis, has fears about becoming old and dives deeper into psychosis by using his power to make other men do things that bring harm to their strong masculine image (hence the blow a-train and the whole scene with Marty.) Homelander may have went back to the lab to come to terms with his past because he felt like he was hurting Ryan, but this was something he had to do for himself to grapple with the effects his father's rejection left on him, how his departure led HL to spend his life in captivity and torture, bringing out his depraved almost childlike ego. A mask he has to wear to hide his fragile masculinity which came out in full force after Soldier Boy called him a fucking disappointment to his face and that continues to slip away the more people challenge him/the more unstable he becomes.

He wants to make himself better and by bringing this harm to others, it's making him fall down the path of becoming a monster, someone worse than even his own father. He considers humans to be below him because they are toys for his own amusement that he can burn down at any second. Someone that he can swoop in and save the day for but could easily control like puppets until they destroy themselves. A common attribute associated with toxic masculinity as males with this type of scorned ego seek to use their bad influence on people to make them feel smaller and to cause them to embrace this toxicity and fall down a dark path of violence and hatred hence falling into place like dominos. Sage encouraged him to adopt this mentality in order to crush the masses with his influence. He is influenced Ryan to embrace this dark behaviours, the same way Soldier Boy used it to put the fear of god into his teammates. Soldier Boy rejected Homelander and by doing that Homelander is falling down this rabbit hole of toxic and fragile masculinity. I'm not saying Homelander wasn't as much of a psychopath before this but it is further encouraging him to adopt this damaging traits and it has sent him too far gone into unhinged territory. Without the love of his father, Homelander has allowed that rejection to take power over him and to shape him into the unforgiving monster he is today. Homelander wouldn't be the way he was in season 4 without Soldier Boy. His influence is greatly felt this season and this is why Homelander has grown into a such snivelling monster hellbent on destroying all of mankind.

With this being said, Soldier Boy also deals with his own kind of fragile masculinity as seen in season 3 when others like Hughie challenge him as a way of emasculating his own overly assertive ego and how he thinks he is better than everyone else. He isn't exactly the red blooded American hero everyone thinks he is and there is something deeper underneath the surface. Soldier Boy serves orders blindly and unquestionably like a unforgiving soldier and is pompously up his own ass. He resorts to violence whenever someone challenges him because he thinks that by smacking the shit out of them, they'll do nothing to harm his ego. They won't expose him for the man he truly is. Soldier Boy really struggles to break out of this mold. He is compensating for his masculinity because he thinks that's how a man is supposed to be strong/fit in to the societal norm when he is far from it. The magazine directly challenges this, taking hits at Soldier Boy's fragile ego by saying is "metrosexuality threatening your manhood"

This takes us into a further deep dive into Soldier Boy's head and how people many years later perceive him. Metrosexuality is relating and denoting men from urban areas who pay too much attention to their personal appearance and cultivating a upscale lifestyle. Men who are obsessed with fashion and how they look, interests that are traditionally associated with women and gay men. It is basically like a heterosexual adopting trends that are stereotypical with homosexuals. Metrosexuals could be openly gay, straight or bisexual.

Soldier Boy is the definition of this term. He is seen in the past quite frequently with the way he performed on Solid Gold, the movie career he cultivated and his sexual activity such as his role in founding herogasm. Caring only about his appearance in public rather than anyone’s perceptions of him, getting lost to drugs and sex as all depraved heroes do. He was high on the eagle's nest. Soldier Boy could very well have experimented with bisexual tendencies at this time but chose to adopt toxic masculinity traits because homosexuality was considered as a crime and far too outside norm at this time and a damaging weakness to a man's ego so Soldier Boy had to keep up this macho facade as a way of not bringing shame to his country. Soldier Boy is the type of guy who is inquired about a fling with another man but then denies that it's gay because he is too strong and egocentric to admit that about himself. This is seen in the way he treats Mallory on the battlefield as his fragile ego gets tested. He embraces misogynistic and homophobic views as a way of looking down on people because he feels that he needs to deflect from the person he truly is. A defensive mechanism so to speak to hide who he truly is. That true part of himself he keeps under lock and key with this toxic persona he has cultivated for himself. By suppressing his true desires, Soldier Boy must become a literal monster and use that power to wreck people's lives with it. It's just as The Deep said, violence is power and that influence will cause others in their wallowing toxic masculinity to do unspeakable things.

I think in season five, we will see Homelander waking up his father from his cryogenic chamber and conspire a truce with him. Manipulating Soldier Boy to join his supe army in their global conquest in exchange for restoring his public image and redeeming himself in the eyes of Vought and the public. Soldier Boy is overbearing, controlling, not really in align with his son's ideas. He uses this partnership as a way of getting revenge on the people that trapped him in the box, mainly The Boys and Stan Edgar. With these issues I've talked about father and son facing, this could eventually lead conflict to stur between Homelander and Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy doesn't think Homelander is fit to lead his team as his power and insanity is slipping by the day. All he cares about is getting his father's approval for the heinous things he's done rather than confront the problem at hand. So Soldier Boy uses his toxic influence to turn the rest of The Seven against him, encouraging them to adopt violent tendencies and to no longer fear Homelander. This leads to Soldier Boy and Homelander to fight as this alliance is likely to end bloody for everyone. Homelander feels rejected and angry and it causes him to go completely off the rails, maybe even violently kill someone in public like the end of season 3 when he felt rejected by SB. I think this was subtly teased with the VCU slate back in episode 5 when a movie called Homelander vs. Soldier Boy: Annihilation was shown, hinting that eventually all blows over and they fight. A father driven to pure hatred of his only son who stages an uprising against him all because Homelander's ego is too fragile for him to handle and it will cause his inevitable downfall. A cycle that is too broken for them to fix.

So in conclusion, Soldier Boy is a character stemmed in toxic masculinity and that influence he carries has damaging consequences for his own son Homelander and everyone around him. By rejected Homelander, Soldier Boy gets rid of that fragile part of him he hated and suppressed for so long. Someone starved for attention and craving for love like he used to be.

End of essay

[bakawitch]

Fourth Prince Zelus, Prince of Greed

Zelus - Envy is an odd character to say the least. Overly paranoid and insecure, they stick to Chevalierose's side like glue. They have a very fragile ego and they get agitated very easily. They're always suspicious of someone and tend to overthink things. Zelus's deal with Mistress Moon wasn't exactly fair and it made a lot of issues present in their regular life worse, but they doesn't regret it because the powers they gained from becoming a Prince aided them in getting closer to their 'soulmate'. Zelus raves a lot about their soulmate which can either be words of adoration or jealousy fueled hate depending on their mood. They tend to be very stubborn and vocal during meetings and refuse to do anything without a good enough reason. Zelus dislikes all other Princes except for Chevalierose. They think of him as their closest friend and the only one who truly understands them in the organisation. They're very dependent on him for moral and emotional support and they would do almost anything he asks of them in return. True to their title, they tend to get very easily jealous over him spending time with other Princes. While the intensity of his appreciation for Chevalierose goes unrequited, they will always be most loyal to him. This usually applies to Ante the most. Ante and Chevalierose spend way too much time messing around for their liking, they always steal his attention away from them and they constantly make very upsetting comments about Zelus. Ante tends to say things that Zelus is just a weaker version of them which usually ends up pushing them over the edge into an outburst. Another Prince that they have pretty similar issues with is Gévaudan. Zelus knows how Chevalierose feels about him and he absolutely can't stand it. They think Gévaudan is hardly deserving of their friend's attention and they actively try to keep them apart, drive a wedge between them if they can. However, the scorn they feel towards him is nothing compared to their hate for Rothbart. Rothbart never considers their input in anything and refuses to explain any reasons behind his plans. Not to mention that he constantly antagonizes them and Chevalierose without any reasonable cause. His reasons for disliking Mille-feuille and Agni are pretty mild compared to those mentioned above, they doesn't even interact with them all that much. Mille-feuille they dislike because Chevalierose hates her, and Agni they dislike because Chevalierose likes her. Zelus has a horrible habit of attaching themselves to a person and obsessively focusing all their positive attentions on them. While they still focus on their 'soulmate' the most their obsessive tendencies are made infinitely worse by their Prince form. They completely give into the sin they represent. They are very rarely made to do field work because of their unsuitability to high stress situations. Zelus usually works from the sidelines and the background. In their civil lives they're in their early twenties and plays the bass in an up and coming indie rock band. Due to their unstable nature they're almost never given command over anyone. They're usually either paired up with Chevalierose, Funnel Web, the Spider miraculous holder, or sent out solo.

Zelus has the ability to naturally camouflage into their surroundings making them relatively hard to spot. They're the most adapt to underwater and aquatic travel/fighting among the Princes.

Their main ability is absolute thievery, meaning that they are capable of stealing anything and everything such as concepts, qualities, items, emotions and powers as long someone considers themselves the owners of said subject. Zelus can steal multiple targets, but they can only use one of them at once. The rest of the Princes are immune to this ability.

[electricbluebutterflies]

for the prompt list, fixing clothing for Cala and Tenax

Lookit, I have a new rarepair to be obsessed with!! Post-1x07 // kinda a coda scene, PG-ish, also on ao3.

She’s alive.

She’s… alive, and not bleeding anywhere deep or vital, and-

For a moment, a moment she is not sure she has, Cala is in shock, and she suspects the night will somehow get stranger before it ends.

She is against the wall and then she is not; she is in the arms of someone she has come to realize does not show emotion easily, and-

She hasn’t had time to think about that, but what she knows is enough. Better man than he thinks let alone what she expected when paths crossed, and currently clinging to her for reasons she suspects are more complicated than his own physical damage, and-

It’s been a long time. She’s been widowed twelve years. Always other priorities. Never-

She is alive. She’s not sure she should be alive. She was almost very brutal collateral damage. She was almost…

She feels unstable on her own feet. That makes two of them. She is unsure who relies more on the other, slow walk home and it has become home, she can admit that now, still not permanent but not-

What if she wants-

It has been, she thinks, far too long since her own possible interests have had any power on her. She survives, and she’d like to think she’s good at it, and everything she has become is so-

What if she wants something, for once?

She’s in no condition for such thoughts, she reminds herself, and there are other priorities, there is always something else, there is always-

“Let me.”

They are in the apartment now, safe, and there is something fragile about to happen, something she is not-

Safe hands on her skin, wet cloth on her face. How much of this blood is hers? Does it matter? Does she want to know? Does she want-

“I can-“

“This happened because of me. You were almost… the least I can do is-“

She doesn’t have the energy to spar. She’s come to like that in these weeks, something almost affectionate in how he looks at her when she challenges him, like he wants-

“I owe you my life.”

“Then we’re even.”

They’ve played out this moment a few times already in opposite positions, how quickly she stopped questioning what happened, easier to care first and worry later, easier to-

He is as thorough in this as she could expect, light touch and slow movements, working down her face and neck and-

“I’m just… forgive me, if-“

There is nothing to forgive, Cala thinks as he straightens the neckline of her dress. Perhaps slightly indecent, but not with any intent beyond the obvious, she does believe that much, she does-

Her hand covers his, still innocent enough close enough to her shoulder, and maybe it’s still the shock running through her veins that makes her want to do something reckless, maybe her mind is too many places, maybe-

“I wouldn’t stop you,” she breathes.

She shouldn’t be surprised by the near-horrified look she gets in return, and yet… there is something comforting about it all the same, all those reminders turned accurate, nights she’s slept through and-

“Even if… neither of us is in any state for-“

“Perhaps not for what you see when you drag your friends out of the gutter, but-“

“If you have ever thought I would-“

“Not long enough to actually fear you.”

He returns to his tasks in perfect silence, slowly working down her arms, lingering on her hands and-

“I think that’s all of it.”

“Good thing my dress is the color it is,” she murmurs.

“Another thing I owe you.”

“You didn’t-“

“Let me do what I have to do to ease the guilt of-“

“I like deep colors,” she says before this gets out of hand. “Or you could just give me the money and-“

“You wouldn’t use it for you.”

He does have a point, and-

“Something pretty for next time I have to take your box at the track.”

Another look of horror, but more playful this time, more-

“Is there anything you won’t do when I’m not looking?”

“I’m not trying to-“

“Gold. To match that knife of yours.”

“I do-“

“If I’d gotten there a second later-“

She melts. It’s just easier. She could say she’s alright now until her voice runs out, or she could let herself be held again and get the same point across just as clearly, and there is something hesitant and beautiful and she wonders and she wants and she won’t and-

“I owe you,” she repeats.

“No you don’t. Now we’re even.”

[stromuprisahat]

What is your take on the interaction between Alina and Darkling in S&S ch 8. She's on the Fold with Sturmhond and they are killing volcra. Then the Darkling appears to Alina, compliments her about becoming a killer, then slashes towards her face with a knife. The compliment seems in character and I get, but slashing at her? What is that? The Darkling never wants to kill her (not really, even if he jokes about it), and he knows she's in a dangerous situation on the Fold. So why does he do this?

It's obvious provocation. He knows they're in the Fold, he knows Alina's mentally unwell, so he pushes her over the edge. I'll use this ask to analyze the whole scene:

It starts with Alina's teeny-tiny mental breakdown.

Sturmhond took her to an unannouncet trip through the Fold. Now, first Alina has to battle suddenly different feel of the thing, caused by her and Aleksander's Bond strengthened by his nichevo'ya's bite.

Then she's persuaded to help with slaughter of volcra. She's terrifyied of the massacre, but the crew enojoys it and decides to continue. Alina remembers Baghra's words about origins of the creatures, extermination goes on. Alina's state goes unnoticed. She tries to reach out to Mal, then likely unconsciously to Aleksander.

As he later admits:

"You called to me, and I answered."

He probably knew she's in the Fold the moment she entered it. If she can feel it, how strong can be the connection between the Unsea and its creator, especially after three centuries?!

First, he's just fucking with her. He's taunting her, aiming where he knows it will hurt. She's fragile at the moment, and he can use it. She hates mere thought they have anything in common, she likes to believe herself incapable of intentional harm, despite evidence to the contrary. He despises her hypocrisy.

Here, he is condescending, almost mocking. Aleksander probably already figured out at least some basics about how the Tether works. He knows she's the only one able to see him, and that will serve him to further unsettle her. But she's not the only one limited by properties of their connection.

He didn't know they're flying.

The only means of transport so far were skiffs- airships are novelty brought by Nikolai-, and he can't see well beyond her. He can break her a little, to make her stop defying him. She's too unstable to act rationally, but self-defense is instinctive and her powers "acting out" in middle of the Fold...

... sure, she'll survive, but not everyone her Light's protecting at the moment has to, and some bad conscience after causing more death of innocents could weaken her even more. Hell, with a bit of luck Malyen could get eaten!

[mihai-florescu]

I think something missing from this discussion is the fact that enstars as a whole places its characters under some form of an archetype or (external, internal) assumption/limitation, and then allows the character to break free. this also adds on to the grander scheme of akira incorporating and then breaking the pre-established harmony (leibniz's philosophical theory about causation under God, which is named across various ES stories & even song lyrics. though in our case, God could be taken as author and audience. how this manifests in the enstars world is a more nuanced subject I won't address here).

so, yes, eichi fits under archetypes himself, and this is done on purpose. however, he breaks away from both the 'powerful cartoony student council antagonist' and the 'sad & pathetic lonely rich boy' by existing in a balance (or paradox) of both willful cruelty and innocence. he's a coldly refined high-class boy with fine-tuned mannerisms, and also a stupid teenager with a terrible sense of humour and a knack for making puns that nobody laughs at. he's a neglected and helpless little boy in a cold hospital room, and also someone who was capable of weaving and dealing a tidal wave of pain so massive it could break and reform people's lives. he is a rational pillar, raised to be the caricature of a pure-bred conglomerate heir in an uptight old money family, and he is one of the most unstable and self-deluded characters in the whole cast. he has a deranged, almost monstrous will to stay alive and warp the world as he sees fit, to be an author and a protagonist, and yet he is brutally fragile and plagued by so much guilt and shame that, at times, he'd rather erase himself from the script altogether.

there's a million more examples I could give for his contradictory nature, but it boils down to this: perpetually, eichi is a compass pointing in two opposite directions, and the only thing holding him together at the seams is love: the one he carries and the one he receives in turn. love, as paradoxically and as universally human as ever, keeps him alive and destroys him to the core.

all I'm doing is barely scratching one inch of the surface, and yet I still get terribly sad when he gets boiled down to or described as "the sick rich guy who was into a theater kid and started a war :P" when he is so much more. he is an antagonist, a protagonist, an author, a puppet and a stage actor. he is a narrative microcosm, and I think he can offer so much to any reader who takes the time and care to reach a hand out to him!

I almost didnt want to publish this after reading and rereading it, i think you put it all so beautifully. But i need to post it so hopefully more people will see and reconsider their perception of eichi. A truly beautiful ask to end the night with

[hoppity-scotch]

Azul resurrects saint mc,but mc isn't whole, imagine a ritual of switching souls in *loyal* elf nobles to keep them there but the spell is incomplete because mc soul is still fragile.

Azul is tired of waiting for MC to know their place. He has given them power, a roof over their head and even moved the stars for them! Still, they are nothing but ungrateful - he really didn't want it to come to this.

The ritual has only been used in ancient times when the lands were divided and war was rampant. Due to the ungodly nature of this spell, it's been banned for quite sometime, it's almost been forgotten - until now.

To summarize - you can combine a soul to another to create a similar yet new whole being. Once the beings are combined, they have traits from both souls. So if you had a rebel solider of great strength and a devoted follower and combined them together - you would have a loyal soldier.

Only issue is if both souls are too incompatible they can reject and become unstable in the one body - often times they would turn into monsters. Azul however is a powerful mage - he knows he can make this spell work.

Combining his MC with one of his most devoted followers - a recipe to create a perfect little spouse.

Unfortunately for Azul, MC's soul is quite resilient. While trying to complete the ritual it all goes wrong, MC's soul was not compatible with the devoted follower and the spell was deemed incomplete.

Now, what once was his little human has now turned into a tortured soul. Two beings trapped - alienated in a body now shared. While MC souls tries desperately to claw away from its cage, trying to scratch and tear into Azul's opal skin. The other grovels and crawl's to Azul's feet begging for an inch of attention - both a literal walking contradiction.

Even though the spell did not work Azul still had high hopes for his plan. The main issue is with MC - still fighting even know. Just they wait, all he needs to do is break them down and they'll be his perfect little puppet.

He has all of eternity after all...

[ipsen]

Twisted Wound

For @exulzae for the @tgpairup event! They wanted AyaKane, and I did my best! Enjoy :]

Aogiri was supposed to be colder than Anteiku.

Kaneki expected that much; the only warmth provided in Yamori’s playroom had been the sweat from his own brow, the blood spilling from his fingers and toes, and the heaving breath of the man himself as he grappled with killing Kaneki on the spot. A foolish mistake, in hindsight— now he was going to be another weapon of the Doves, like so many before him.

As a replacement, Kaneki assumed many of his responsibilities— chief among them being convening with the other executives.

All were cold in their own way— Noro was tall and silent, roaming the halls like a zombie. Accompanying him at all times was Eto, a childish— thus dangerous— mystery who always seemed to be watching Kaneki when he wasn’t looking. There was Naki, the new White Suits leader, who was overly emotional and unstable. And then Tatara always glared at Kaneki when he spoke up, as though he knew Kaneki’s true purpose, despite that being impossible.

In a way, it was good. Kaneki truly felt nothing towards these ghouls— these monsters— and counted to himself the days until their demise. He would consume them once they became useless, and he would climb on their corpses to the pinnacle of strength, upon which he would finally be able to protect what mattered to him.

But then there was Ayato. Touka’s younger brother, and a roaring fire amidst the cold. He was a lot like his sister, much as he likely didn’t want to admit: strong-willed, and a face full of swears and glares for anyone disagreeable. It should be easy to hate someone like that; those were the types that pushed people away and ended up all alone because of it.

If that were true, then it must have been the burden of nostalgia on Kaneki’s shoulders, because he found himself hesitating. Bringing down Aogiri meant confronting Ayato again, meant grappling with the choice he’d made in the 11th ward. It meant questioning his actions in that checkerboarded room, and rendering them meaningless.

And then it happened. Kaneki hadn’t been sent out to exterminate ghouls for a while, and he felt the pangs of hunger clawing at the walls of his stomach. The monster inside him craved sustenance, but his sense of justice and heroism demanded only one type of food— villains. And yet, the powers that be demanded he bide his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. He had to feign loyalty to Aogiri lest they catch onto his plan, and a true predator knew when to keep his claws beneath his cloak.

In a show of what must have been amused pity, Eto had suggested to Tatara that Kaneki accompany Ayato’s squad to a 15th ward raid. However, there were no ghouls, like Kaneki anticipated— they were going to attack a Dove’s nest.

Humans.

He knew this day would come eventually; it was just the consequence of working with ghouls. Humans would be attacked. Humans would be killed. But Kaneki, a former human, hunting his old kind— it stilled him. He knew how fragile they could be, how much easier they crumbled compared to ghouls. That was what Yamori had taught him.

Yet, when Ayato recklessly charged ahead and got stabbed by two hooks of a strange quinque, Kaneki almost thought he was just another human. The way Ayato crumbled when his ribs shattered like glass— Kaneki acted before he realized it. His kagune, grafted onto him like a broken branch onto a foreign tree, spilled forth wilder than anything before.

Two appendages around Ayato, and two through the Dove that did it.

Blood, human blood, spilled over Kaneki’s implanted organ, and the intoxicating smell of raw meat. He had always resisted the temptation, and the heat of battle always made it difficult. But Ayato needed attention now, and Kaneki used that to push him forward.

He ran as fast and as far as he could, far behind the front lines. It went against all of his logic, all of his choices, all of his resolve. If he had woven a tapestry in which he styled himself the hero, this slashed a knife through it and turned it into scraps on the floor.

He could feel the confusion from the others; the Eyepatch hadn’t established a habit of retreating, and Ayato hadn’t established a habit of being protected. But battle was battle, and there wasn’t enough time to consider it.

A few buildings later, once the screams of combat were silent memories, Ayato stirred. “Shit…” he muttered. “Take me back, half-ass.”

“You’re injured.”

“Yeah, obviously!” As he said it, he hissed in pain. “Shit…! Look, if you let me feed, I won’t be injured!”

“How will you feed if you can barely stand?” Kaneki countered.

“You don’t know shit, half-ass. I need to eat.”

“You need rest. I’ll figure something out.”

“And what do you know about what I need, huh?!” With a forceful shove, Ayato tumbled out of Kaneki’s grip and clambered to his feet. He clutched his wound, but neither his words nor his scowl were any less vicious for it. “Prancin’ about and actin’ like you’re better than anyone, just cuz you beat Yamori or whatever…!”

Kaneki stood at a distance, watching Ayato struggle with the injury he was ignoring. He’d been observing Ayato’s feeding habits, and it was clear he didn’t cannibalize. He was floundering about in the world of ghouls, yet he refused to steal from them. That was what they were built to do, after all. But if he didn’t eat something soon, then—

“Why’re you even here, anyway?” There was a wall for Ayato to sink down against. “You kill shitty Doves, but you only eat when it’s other ghouls… It’s stupid; they taste disgusting.”

Kaneki said nothing. It was true, to an extent, but there was a limit to one’s base instincts. He had to overcome them, ascend past the sheep and become a shepherd, so that he might pick the ones most suitable for slaughter.

“You ain’t in Fantasy Caféland anymore,” Ayato continued. “We’re ghouls, Eyepatch. We eat humans, not each other.”

Kaneki stepped toward him, deciding to entertain the boy. “If you’re picky about what you eat, you’ll never become strong; those you care about will slip through your fingers like sand.”

“And who said I cared about anyone?” Ayato fired back. “I only need me, myself, and I… That’s how ghouls operate, you bastard. We can only count on ourselves.”

“What about Touka, then?” Kaneki squatted down to his level.

He clicked his tongue. “What about her?”

“You could have killed her back in Anteiku or in the 11th ward, yet you didn’t. You let her live.”

When Ayato didn’t respond, Kaneki knew he hit the nail on the head.

“You’re protecting someone, just like I am. Killing Doves en masse won’t solve anything; battle experience only gets you so far. You must be able to expand your limits, too. And to do that, you must eat. You must feed.”

He grabbed Ayato by the shirt collar.

“Like this.”

In one swift motion, he lunged forth and sunk his teeth into Ayato’s shoulder. Ayato hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?!” he yelled.

“Teaching you a lesson.” Kaneki stood up, wiping the blood off his mouth. The taste was still the same, like spoiled goods that no chef could salvage. It was the foulest trash one could consume. “You said you needed to eat, and if you don’t, you’ll die. So show me your resolve.”

Ayato clutched his shoulder, glaring. “Bastard…”

“Calling me names won’t fill your belly.” Kaneki balled up his fists and shifted into a fighting stance. “Now feed, Kirishima.”

“I’ll do more than that…” Ayato struggled to his feet, crouching low. He suddenly smirked. “I’ll wipe the goddamn floor with your fucking guts.”

Kaneki didn’t notice his own smirk. “Come and try.”

Ayato lunged first, driven by hunger and newfound frustration. Kaneki didn’t expect the sudden speed, and felt Ayato’s nails scrape his cheek as he dodged to the side. He aimed a fist at Ayato’s cheek, but the boy turned, and his kagune, though shrunken by lack of sustenance, burst out of his open back, lining Kaneki’s hand and arm with small shards.

Kaneki jumped back to try and reorient himself, but he underestimated a ghoul’s hunger. He’d never been on the receiving end like this; Ayato chased him down and grabbed him by the arm, his fingernails sinking into the flesh so as to not let go. Kaneki winced slightly at the sensation, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was when Ayato’s teeth sank into Kaneki’s shoulder, far deeper than expected. It was as if he wanted the wound to never heal, and wanted to leave lasting proof that it was by his power that Kaneki suffered it. Ayato’s power, and no one else’s, simultaneously claiming victory and possession both.

Yet, for some reason, it was a familiar— thus comforting— sensation. Not familiar in the sense that Kaneki had been bitten like this, but familiar in the way that he had been held with the same intent before. The way Ayato’s hands clung to his shirt and arm, combined with the searing pain of his flesh being torn— it was like being held in both affection and contempt, love and disgust.

But were those not two sides of the same coin? By coveting that which we hate, desiring that which we despise, do we not also love them? Crave them? Need them?

Despite himself, Kaneki felt himself clinging to the sensation as Ayato fed on him, took from him. He clung to it like it was the only thing that mattered, far beyond kings or weeds or bad coffee beans; this current, familiar, foreign moment was all that mattered.

He enjoyed it.

He despised it.

Ayato’s hair was a shaggy, bloody mess, unkempt and uncared for. He needed to wash it, Kaneki thought. Did he even know how to wash it? Was that something a ghoul like him, so entrenched in that world, knew how to do? Would Kaneki have to—

“You taste weird,” Ayato said, getting off and wiping the blood dripping from his mouth.

Kaneki stayed still on the floor, bordering on rigid. “So I’ve been told,” he responded, feeling his shoulder struggle to put itself back together. “You were hungry.”

“N-No shit I was hungry!” Ayato shouted back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. There was a new color in his cheeks: a reddish and healthy hue. “Still… Still am…”

And that was why Kaneki continued to hesitate. Ayato, every so often, displayed behavior that was so much more… human than the other executives. Unlike Tatara, Eto, Noro, or even Naki, Ayato knew things. Knew the joy of peace, the sorrow of loss, and the painstaking existence of never having both as a ghoul.

However, Kaneki simply nodded, stowing away such thoughts for his greater purpose. “The raid must be over by now.”

“Hmph, no thanks to you.” Ayato rolled his shoulders. “The others are probably lookin’ for us. C’mon.”

Kaneki rolled to his feet, calming himself. He was not here to… frolic with the company he kept now; he was on a mission, and not even Ayato would stand in his way. “Alright.”

Despite that, Kaneki stared at his new wound, surrounded by torn fabric. It was closing, as it always did, but something was different. Instead of a bare patch of skin, Kaneki saw a scar in the shape of Ayato’s teeth. Almost like a brand, marking one’s territory, one’s property.

What loathsome pleasure he felt.