#psychological entropy

[entropywritez]

SPACELOGARCHIVETEXT:FULL:2232023

(translation: Space Log Archive text: full: March 23 2023)

When an interstellar ship is docked into the Main Ship for repairs, only one human is sent up to keep watch over it. Isolation in the natural world is difficult enough, even more so in the artificial. Even considering this, the human sent up does not cope well with the deafening silence of space.

Warnings - animal and human death alluded to, suicide, brief conversations about religion and superstition. Much of the literal text is abbreviated technobabble, in a similar format to the untranslated title, which may be difficult to read. 

Wordcount: 1.8k

Text is under the cut!

INFRMTNREQ#589573851-589573856:8:36AMSENT:

CPT#678234 MLTRPRSNL:ALL

NO LOGGED INFORMATION.

CPT#678234 CVLPRSNL:ALL

1:MAYSIM ABDULLAH;27YRS;OCCU:NONE;RELATIONSHIP:PARTNER;STATUS:DEAD

NO OTHER LOGGED INFORMATION.

CPT#678234 CVLPRSNL:DPND

NO LOGGED INFORMATION. 

CPT#678234 PROFILE

RANIAH ABDULLAH;28YRS;OCCU:GNRL;STATUS:UNDT

NO OTHER LOGGED INFORMATION.

CPT#678234 LOGARCH:ALL

LOGTRANSM#1147634:8:46AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES: THIS IS WHAT, MY THIRD TIME BABYSITTING A SHIP? THE NOVELTY’S WORN OFF, BUT IT’S STILL UNNERVING.ANY TIPS FROM MAIN SHIP?

LOGTRANSM#1147634:8:46AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147634:9:14AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES: KEEP YOURSELF BUSY. MAYBE CHECK ALL MAIN SUITS OUTSIDE. POLISH THE WINDOWS.

INSTTRANSM#1147634:9:14AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147635:8:28AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:GAVE ALL THE SUITS A TRY. #9, THAT YOUNGER RECRUIT’S, HAD A COUPLE SURPRISES FOR ME. HIGH SCHOOLERS ARE HIGH SCHOOLERS, I FIGURE. FOLDERED, IN MY LUGGAGE FOR RETURN TO LAND. THE WINDOWS SURE LOOK A LOT SMALLER WHEN I’M INSIDE, NOT POLISHING THEM. EVEN I KNOW NO ONE GETS USED TO LOOKING DOWN AT MAIN SHIP. THE WORD MILLION DOESN’T STICK AS WELL AS LOOKING AT THE FUCKING SCALE. WHO’S ANSWERING THESE TRANSMISSIONS, ANYWAY?

LOGTRANSM#1147635:8:46AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147635:8:52AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:LT. COMMANDER GOLDE-DIAZ OF THE INFORMATION WING SPEAKING. I HOPE I WON’T GET SWITCHED OUT. SURE WOULDN’T HELP WITH BEING UP IN SPACE ALONE, WOULD IT?

INSTTRANSM#1147635:8:52AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147636:10:53AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:WLLCHCK

ADTNNOTES:NO MESSAGE YET RECEIVED. EVERYTHING ALRIGHT, CAPTAIN?

INSTTRANSM#1147636:10:53AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147637:8:17AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:PERFECTLY FINE. POPPED OUT OF BED, DECIDED I’D START READING SOMETHING INSTEAD OF WORKING ALL DAY. LOST TRACK OF TIME.

LOGTRANSM#1147637:8:46AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147637:8:51AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:WLLCHCKRES

ADTNNOTES:GOOD TO HEAR. MAYBE SET AN ALARM TO KEEP TABS ON LOGS. WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN READING, CAPTAIN?

INSTTRANSM#1147637:8:51AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147638:8:32AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:DABBLING IN DIFFERENT CLASSICS. DIDN’T EXACTLY STUDY THEM IN SCHOOL, FIGURED THERE’S NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT.

LOGTRANSM#1147638:8:32AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147638:8:37AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:WATCH YOURSELF, CAPTAIN. SOME OF THOSE CAN GET PRETTY HEAVY.

INSTTRANSM#1147638:8:37AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147639:8:35AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:STARTED CHECKING DEFENSE MACHINERY. NOTHING OF NOTE TO REPORT SO FAR. JESUS, DO OUR OPERATORS LIVE IN THESE THINGS? THEY’RE DISGUSTING.

LOGTRANSM#1147639:8:35AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147639:8:41AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:IN RECENT CASES, THAT WOULD BE A REASONABLE CONCLUSION. SPACE TRAVEL TAKES A WHILE IN OUR WARP VEHICLES. WOULDN’T BE SURPRISED IF SOME OPERATORS SPEND A FEW MONTHS IN THESE THINGS TO REACH THEIR ASSIGNMENTS.

INSTTRANSM#1147639:8:41AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147640:1:47PMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:DEAR GOD. SOME KID TRIED TO BRING THEIR CAT IN WITH THEM IN THE SUIT. ANY PROTOCOL AGAINST SPACE BURIALS?

LOGTRANSM#1147640:1:47PMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147640:2:04PMSENT:

ORDERS:REFRAIN. PRECAU:OBEYPRTCOL PROTOCOL:DEBRISPREV

ADTNNOTES:HAD TO DO SOME RESEARCH. UNFORTUNATELY, YES. TINY MASS CAN DO SOME SURPRISING DAMAGE IN LOW GRAVITY. RECOMMEND SEALING AND STORING IN FREEZER.

INSTTRANSM#1147640:2:04PMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147641:9:17AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:DONE. SEEMS DISRESPECTFUL SOMEHOW, BUT I’M MORE AFRAID OF HULL BURSTS THAN CAT GHOSTS.

LOGTRANSM#1147641:9:17AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147641:9:20AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS, CAPTAIN?

INSTTRANSM#1147641:9:20AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147641:9:22AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:NO, AND I SURE DON’T WANNA BE PROVEN WRONG HERE.

LOGTRANSM#1147641:9:22AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147642:9:16AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:CAN’T GET THAT CAT OFF MY MIND. STARTED TRYING TO GERMINATE SEEDS FROM TOMATOES AT BREAKFAST. WILL UPDATE AS I CONTINUE. NOT ENOUGH PLANTS IN PATROL CITIES.

LOGTRANSM#1147642:9:16AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147642:9:20AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:PLEASE DO. WOULD BE USEFUL INFORMATION FOR IMPROVING OPERATOR MORALE IN THE FUTURE.

INSTTRANSM#1147642:9:20AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147643:8:23AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:ARE YOU A RELIGIOUS PERSON, LT. COMMANDER GOLDE-DIAZ OF THE INFORMATION WING?

LOGTRANSM#1147643:8:23AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147643:825AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:NOT PARTICULARLY. GREW UP CATHOLIC, DECIDED I WASN’T CATHOLIC ONCE I MOVED OUT. YOURSELF?

INSTTRANSM#1147643:8:25AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147643:8:26AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

CASUALLY. I GO TO THE MOSQUE FOR EID, GET MY PRAYERS IN, BUT I’M NOT EXACTLY A PRIEST. TO BE HONEST WITH YOU, DAILY PRAYERS ARE ONE OF THE FEW REASONS I’M EVEN KEEPING TRACK OF THE TIME.

LOGTRANSM#1147643:8:26AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147644:8:48AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:TRIED OUT THE AUTO-TENNIS TODAY. OPERATING A SUIT’S PRETTY TAXING, BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED SOME GOOD OLD EXERCISE TO KEEP YOUR MIND OFF OF WHATEVER YOU’RE DREADING.

LOGTRANSM#1147644:8:48AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147644:8:50AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:DREADING, CAPTAIN?

INSTTRANSM#1147644:8:50AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147645:8:32AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:BEEN HAVING TROUBLE SLEEPING HERE. I’M TOO USED TO THE CONSTANT PATROL CITY BUSTLE OUTSIDE MY QUARTERS. TONIGHT I’LL TRY PUTTING ON SOMETHING TO DROWN OUT THE RINGING IN MY EARS.

LOGTRANSM#1147645:8:31AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147645:8:53AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:BEAT ME TO THE SUGGESTION. DON’T TAKE ANY SUPPLEMENTS JUST YET. FIGURE YOU JUST NEED TO GET USED TO IT.

INSTTRANSM#1147645:8:53AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147646:10:39AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:GOD, ALREADY A WHOLE WEEK UP HERE. TIME FEELS DIFFERENT WHEN IT’S NOT RATIONED OUT BY ORDERS. EYES ARE STARTING TO HURT FROM THE 24/7 LIGHT.

LOGTRANSM#1147646:10:39AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147646:10:41AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:I COULD SEND YOU SOME ORDERS IF NEEDED, CAPTAIN. START WEARING SUNGLASSES AROUND. 

INSTTRANSM#1147646:10:41AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147647:5:33AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:HIT WITH DEBRIS FROM SOME IDIOT KID’S ABANDONED SHIP LAST NIGHT. IT’S FUNNY. EVEN THOUGH IT’S ALL PASSED, I STILL GET THE SENSE OF THUMPING ECHOING ABOVE ME.

LOGTRANSM#1147647:5:33AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147647:8:17AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:UP ALL NIGHT, CAPTAIN?

INSTTRANSM#1147647:8:17AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147647:8:22AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:I SUPPOSE I WAS. KEPT WAKING UP TO THE FEELING OF SOMEONE WAS PULLING MY HAIR. NOT THE WAY TO TREAT A LADY, HM?

LOGTRANSM#1147647:8:22AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147649:8:52AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:CHECKED ON THE CAT BEFORE BREAKFAST. I’VE TAKEN TO CALLING HER SECOND-IN-COMMAND. SURE HOPE SHE APPRECIATES THAT. NO TOMATO SPROUTS YET. EVERYTHING UP HERE’S TOO DEAD, I SUPPOSE.

LOGTRANSM#1147649:8:52AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147649:8:54AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:I’M SURE SHE WOULD.

INSTTRANSM#1147649:8:54AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147650:4:48AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:DEACTIVATED

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:STAYED UP ALL NIGHT AGAIN. DECIDED TO POWER OFF AND CLEAN THE STEERING THRUSTERS. NEEDED SOMETHING DIFFICULT TO FOCUS ON AS A DISTRACTION.

LOGTRANSM#1147650:4:48AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147650:8:34AMSENT:

ORDERS:NONE PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:NONE

ADTNNOTES:DISTRACTION FROM WHAT?

INSTTRANSM#1147650:8:34AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147651:12:27AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:DEACTIVATED

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:I CAN STILL FEEL MY PARTNER’S FINGERS RUNNING THROUGH MY HAIR AS I FALL ASLEEP. IT’S BEEN TOO LONG SINCE I’VE HELD HER.

LOGTRANSM#1147651:12:27AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147651:8:23AMSENT:

ORDERS:RESTDAY PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:HLTH374

ADTNNOTES:CAPTAIN, YOU’VE BEEN ORDERED TO TAKE A DAY OFF TO SLEEP AND REST YOUR MIND. MAYBE WRITE HER SOMETHING FOR US TO SEND TO YOUR PARTNER.

INSTTRANSM#1147651:8:23AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147651:8:32AMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:DEACTIVATED

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:NEGATIVE, LT. CMDR. SHE’S ALREADY HERE, PETTING THE CAT.

LOGTRANSM#1147651:8:32AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147652:9:30AMSENT:

ORDERS:LOGREQUEST PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:MISNGLOG

ADTNNOTES:NONE

INSTTRANSM#1147652:9:30AMRECIEVED. LOGTRANSM#1147652:1:26PMSENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:DEACTIVATED

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:I KEEP HEARING CHATTING AND A CAT’S PURRING. DIDN’T GET TO SLEEP UNTIL THE WEE HOURS OF THE MORNING. STILL CLEANING AROUND THE SIDE THRUSTERS.

LOGTRANSM#1147652:1:26PMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147652:1:29PMSENT:

ORDERS:RESTDAY PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:HLTH374

ADTNNOTES:I’M CONTINUING THE REQUEST FOR YOU TO DEDICATE A DAY FOR REST AND SLEEP.

INSTTRANSM#1147652:1:29PMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147653:9:30AMSENT:

ORDERS:LOGREQUEST PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:MISNGLOG

ADTNNOTES:NONE

INSTTRANSM#1147653:9:30AMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147654:9:30AMSENT:

ORDERS:LOGREQUEST PRECAU:NONE PROTOCOL:MISNGLOG

ADTNNOTES:CAPTAIN, PLEASE PROVIDE A STATUS REPORT. I TRUST YOUR LAST MISSING LOG WAS DUE TO A REST DAY.

INSTTRANSM#1147654:9:30AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147654:10:42SENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:DEACTIVATED

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:I’M NOT ALONE ON THIS SHIP, LT. CMDR. I’LL NEVER HAVE TO BE ALONE AGAIN.

LOGTRANSM#1147654:10:42PMRECIEVED.

INSTTRANSM#1147655:7:13AMSENT:

ORDERS:SECRTCHK PRECAU:SHLD;STN;FZE PROTOCOL:UNIDEDOBJ

ADTNNOTES:UNKNOWN STRUCTURE FOUND CLOSE TO LEFT SIDE THRUSTERS. PLEASE BE PREPARED FOR HOSTILES WHILE INVESTIGATING.

INSTTRANSM#1147655:7:13AMRECIEVED.

LOGTRANSM#1147655:8:29SENT:

LIFESUPRT:FUNCTIONAL

MTHRSTRS:FUNCTIONAL

STHRSTRS:DEACTIVATED

INTRTRANSP:FUNCTIONAL

HD/NCYC:FUNCTIONAL

ARTFPERSN:FUNCTIONAL

ADTNNOTES:IT’S NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT, LT. CMDR. I WON’T LEAVE ANY FREE-FLOATING DEBRIS.

LOGTRANSM#1147655:8:29PMRECIEVED.

AUTOMNSHIPLOG#3785235:10:22AM:SGNFLOSSLOG

LIFESUPRT:NONE

HMNPRSNL:1 LOSS;CPT#678234;LFLRDNG:FZE BEAM INJURY HEART;LCTN:L14THRSTR

ARTFPERSN:1 LOSS,4 INJR;IRDNG:FZE BEAM REMNANTS AFTER INVESTIGATING HUMNPRSNL LOSS.

MAINSHIP:NONE

MTHRSTRS:NONE

STHRSTRS:L14THRSTR;LFERDNG:FZE BEAM DAMAGE,LSS/IMP/TMP EQUIPMENT.

HD/NCYC:NONE

ADTNNOTES:SHIP NOW UNSUPERVISED. RESTORE HUMAN PERSONNEL.

HMNNOTES:NONE

[sexofword]

Entropy

"The entropy of an isolated system not in equilibrium will tend to increase over time, approaching a maximum value at equilibrium"

Yes yes, but is the universe an isolated system?

[breadsquirrel]

Thinking about Entropy going from following her father’s orders to following her sister’s hopes to following her new benefactor’s directions. Losing herself in the singular focus of making their desires come true until she can’t find herself anymore. First realizing she doesn’t know what she wants in a conversation with her sister

“What are you gonna do after you escape this life?”

“Mm, dunno. What do you wanna do?”

A laugh, they’ve talked about what Nile wants before, in hushed whispers. A normal life, whatever that is.

“But we can’t stay together forever, right? You have to want something for yourself, don’t you?”

“I’ve… never thought about that before.”

“Oh… well, we can figure it out together!”

Learning to think ahead past tomorrow, and coming to terms that they can never really escape. Not together at least. Not if they turn a blind eye to the underworld’s activities. Someone has to make sure no one is coming after them. She’s the stronger one. Nile is weak but she’s smart, she can figure things out on her own.

Freedom is for those who want it. And Entropy doesn’t want anything but for her sister to be happy.

The look of betrayal on her sister’s face when Entropy offered herself to their benefactor for her safety. She tries to forget it.

“Enny? What are you doing.”

“I’m sorry, Nile. There’s no other way.”

“Bullshit. I can think of several different ways to do this.”

“Oh, my apologies for being such a moron, do enlighten me.”

“You wanna go back to following orders that bad?

“I-”

“Well, you’re not getting any from me. Think for yourself for once.”

“And that’s not an order?”

“No. Just a wish.”

And then all of a sudden, years have passed and Entropy hasn’t seen her sister face to face since. One night she visited the house Nile’s made a home in and looked in the windows. Just a quick stop between jobs.

Whatever normal is, she seems to have figured it out. The house looks like it could be any of the many she’s broken into. Nile had settled down and started a family. A crib rocks gently next to a bed for two. A stuffed moon and sun dangle over a bundle of blankets. One of Nile’s hands rocking her baby to sleep as her eyes are closed, clearly tired from the baby’s antics during the days.

A body, her partner most likely, shifts next to her and Nile stirs. When she opens her eyes just a crack, Entropy is gone. Outside the window is just a tree branch swaying in the wind.

Is this what she really wanted? To go back to what her life would have been without her sister in it?

It’s lonely.

[quotes-by-dilanka]

In all chaos, there is a cosmos, in all disorder, a secret order, Every civillzed human being, whatever his conscious development, is still an archaic man at the deeper levels of his psyche.

—Carl Jung

[pin-k-ink]

Chrollo! There isn’t enough dark content about him. I want to see how Chrollo is, compared to Yandere Chrollo. I love both, but we don’t get enough dark content of Chrollo.

Chrollo is seen as manipulative, and cold. Considering he’s a mass murder, and his empathy is nonexistent to people outside of the phantom troupe. Though, he’s able to act like a gentleman, and a curious man who seems sweet. He definitely isn’t stable, but catching his attention would be terrifying. He collects what he’s interested in. Being in a relationship with him would be interesting, but complicated.

entropy // chrollo lucilfer

tw ⇢ emotional abuse/manipulation, psychological trauma, toxic relationship, mention of self-harm, suicide attempt, dub-con, non-consensual/coercion, stockholm syndrome(?), mention of violence and criminal activities, power play, some unspecified mental health issues, rough sex, cunnilingus, begging, idk kinda rushed ending, narrator’s pov

wc ⇢ 7.1k

a/n: i really liked this idea, anon, so i present you with 7k words of chrollo brainrot. i really tried not to make chrollo a cliche, run-of-the-mill yandere but im not sure i did a good job. its also my first time using y/n and i hated it

The dim lights of the crowded bar cast an amber glow across the room, the air thick with the hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, I nursed my whiskey, the smooth glass cool against my palm, the rich amber liquid swirling hypnotically as I lifted it to my lips. The first sip burned pleasantly down my throat, warming me from within as my eyes scanned the crowd out of habit, taking in the sea of unfamiliar faces.

That's when I saw him.

He moved with a fluid grace that stood out amidst the tipsy stumbles and raucous laughter of the other patrons. Dark hair fell across his face in an artful sweep as he leaned in close to whisper something to the bartender, who nodded knowingly and slid a drink across the polished wood, the crystal tumbler gleaming under the soft light. As if sensing the weight of my gaze, he turned slowly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat, my fingers tightening reflexively around my glass.

A polite smile curved his lips as he approached with measured steps, sliding onto the stool next to mine with a nod of acknowledgment. "Good evening," he said, his voice smooth and cultured, with a faint lilt of an accent I couldn't quite place. "I hope you'll forgive my forwardness, but I couldn't help noticing you from across the room."

I felt a flush creep up my neck at his directness, a heat blooming under my skin that had little to do with the whiskey. But I maintained my composure, lifting one eyebrow in a practiced arch. "Is that so?" I asked, taking another sip of my drink, letting the smoky flavor linger on my tongue. My heart fluttered in my chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness at the attention from this intriguing stranger.

"Indeed. It's rare to find someone so comfortable in their own solitude. It speaks to a certain strength of character." His eyes held mine, dark and fathomless, seeming to search for something beneath the surface, beneath the mask of cool indifference I wore like armor.

I smiled slightly, intrigued by his observation, by the way he seemed to see beyond the carefully constructed facade. "And what would you know about my character?"

"Very little, I admit. But I'd like to learn more, if you're willing." He extended a hand, long fingers elegant and strong. "Chrollo Lucilfer, at your service."

"Y/N," I replied, placing my hand in his. His grip was firm, his skin cool and smooth against my own. A shiver raced down my spine at the contact, a spark of something electric and unfamiliar. I found myself drawn to his enigmatic aura, the hint of danger that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

As the evening wore on, Chrollo and I fell into easy conversation, trading stories and opinions over drinks, our knees brushing under the bar in a way that felt both accidental and deliberate. He was articulate and well-read, with a keen insight that made me feel like he could see straight into my soul, past the walls I'd so carefully constructed. There was a magnetism to him, a pull that I couldn't resist, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. I felt a connection growing between us, a sense of understanding and shared secrets that left me both thrilled and unnerved.

We began seeing each other regularly after that night, meeting for dinner at quiet candlelit restaurants or for coffee in cozy bookshops, the rich scent of roasted beans and old pages enveloping us as we talked for hours. Chrollo was always the perfect gentleman, holding doors and pulling out chairs, his manners impeccable, his attentiveness unwavering. But there were moments, fleeting glimpses, where something else seemed to flicker beneath the surface, a darkness that both thrilled and unsettled me. I found myself drawn to that darkness, to the mystery that surrounded him, even as a part of me whispered warnings in the back of my mind.

One evening, we were walking through the city, the pavement damp with recent rain, the neon signs reflecting in puddles at our feet. A man stumbled out of an alleyway, clearly drunk and disoriented, his clothes rumpled and stained. He lurched towards us, mumbling incoherently, his breath sour with the stench of alcohol. I tensed, expecting Chrollo to step in and help, to offer the man a steadying hand or a kind word. Instead, he sidestepped the man neatly, his movements fluid and precise, not even sparing him a glance. There was a coldness to the action, a calculated indifference that left me feeling chilled despite the warm summer air. A flicker of unease stirred in my gut, a sense that there was more to Chrollo than met the eye, but I pushed it aside, not wanting to shatter the illusion of the perfect romance.

Another time, we were at a restaurant, a trendy spot with exposed brick walls and industrial light fixtures. The hum of conversation and the clink of silverware against plates filled the air, a pleasant buzz of activity. A commotion broke out at a nearby table, a woman's voice rising in pitch as she gestured wildly at her companion, her face flushed with anger. Chrollo watched the scene unfold with a detached sort of interest, like a scientist observing a particularly fascinating specimen. When I expressed concern, my brow furrowed with worry, he simply shrugged, the movement languid and unconcerned.

"Some people thrive on drama," he said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. "It's best not to get involved."

I tried to brush off the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right, telling myself that no one was perfect, that everyone had their flaws and quirks. Chrollo was attentive and affectionate, showering me with gifts and attention, his touch always gentle, always reverent. It was easy to get lost in the romance of it all, in the heady rush of new love. But even as I surrendered to the warmth of his embrace, to the tender caress of his lips on my skin, a part of me remained wary, a tiny voice whispering doubts in the back of my mind.

But the doubts continued to gather at the edges of my mind, like storm clouds on the horizon, dark and ominous. There were inconsistencies in the stories he told, small details that didn't quite add up, pieces that didn't fit into the puzzle of his past. He was evasive about his work, about his family and his childhood, always changing the subject with a charming smile and a clever turn of phrase when I pressed for more. I tried to ignore the growing sense of unease, the feeling that I was only seeing a carefully crafted facade, a mask that hid the true nature of the man I was falling for.

It all came to a head one night when we were out for a walk, the city streets quiet and still around us. A police car raced by, sirens blaring, red and blue lights flashing against the buildings. Chrollo tensed, his body going rigid beside me, his eyes tracking the vehicle with a sharpness that made me pause, my heart skipping a beat in my chest. There was something in his reaction, a hint of fear or guilt that I had never seen before, and it sent a chill down my spine.

"What is it?" I asked, searching his face for clues, for some hint of the thoughts swirling behind those dark eyes.

He relaxed just as quickly, his expression smoothing into a mask of calm, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Nothing, just lost in thought for a moment."

But I saw it then, in that brief unguarded instant. The hairline fracture in his facade, the glimpse of something raw and real beneath the polished surface. The realization hit me like a freight train, stealing the breath from my lungs - I didn't really know the man I was falling for at all. He was a mystery, a puzzle with missing pieces, and I had no idea what secrets he was hiding behind that charming smile and those fathomless eyes. Fear and doubt coiled in my gut, a sickening sense of dread that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that everything was fine.

The doubt became an itch I couldn't scratch, a constant presence at the back of my mind. I found myself watching Chrollo more closely, looking for clues, for any sign that might confirm my growing suspicions. He was as attentive and affectionate as ever, his touch gentle, his words sweet. But there was a guardedness to him now, a sense that he was always holding something back, always keeping a part of himself locked away. It was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands, always slipping through my fingers just when I thought I had a grasp on the truth.

One evening, we were at his apartment, curled up on the plush leather couch with a movie playing on the large flatscreen TV. The room was dimly lit, the flickering light from the screen casting shadows on the walls. Chrollo's phone buzzed with an incoming message, the screen lighting up on the coffee table. He glanced at it, his expression hardening for a split second, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly before he smoothed it away, reaching for the device with a casual hand. My heart raced in my chest, a sense of foreboding washing over me as I watched him, a part of me desperately wanting to believe that it was nothing, that I was overreacting.

"Everything okay?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Just work," he replied, his thumb swiping across the screen, his eyes scanning the message quickly before he slipped the phone into his pocket. "Nothing to worry about."

But there was a tightness to his smile, a strain around his eyes that belied his easy words. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling me, some secret he was keeping locked away. The doubts gnawed at me, a constant ache in my chest that I couldn't ignore, no matter how much I wanted to lose myself in the fantasy of our perfect love.

As the weeks passed, the distance between us grew, an invisible chasm widening with each passing day. Chrollo would disappear for hours at a time, offering vague explanations about meetings or errands, his tone carefully neutral. He was increasingly evasive about his activities, changing the subject with a practiced ease or deflecting my questions with a charming smile and a clever quip. I felt like I was losing him, like the man I had fallen for was slipping away, replaced by a stranger wearing a familiar face.

I knew I should confront him, demand answers, but a part of me was afraid of what I might uncover. The man I had fallen for, the gentleman with the quick wit and the electrifying touch, felt like a stranger wearing a familiar face, a mask that was starting to crack at the edges. I was torn between the desire to cling to the illusion of our perfect romance and the need to know the truth, to see the man behind the mask, no matter how painful it might be.

The final straw came late one night when I was leaving Chrollo's apartment, my mind whirling with unanswered questions, my heart heavy in my chest. As I stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps, I nearly collided with a man coming from the opposite direction. He was tall and lean, with cold eyes that seemed to look right through me, his face all sharp angles and harsh lines. A shiver of unease ran down my spine, a sense of danger emanating from him like a palpable force.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, trying to sidestep him, my skin prickling with unease.

But he blocked my path, his large frame filling the narrow hallway, his gaze flicking past me to Chrollo's door, a flash of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. "He's expecting me," the man said, his voice flat and emotionless, sending a chill down my spine.

I glanced over my shoulder, but Chrollo had already closed the door, the sound of the lock clicking into place loud in the sudden silence. A wave of dread washed over me as I hurried past the man, my heart pounding in my ears, my hands shaking as I jabbed at the elevator button. Questions swirled in my mind, a growing sense of fear and unease that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried to rationalize it away.

I didn't sleep that night, my mind racing with possibilities, with questions I was afraid to voice aloud. Who was the man in the hallway? What business did he have with Chrollo at such a late hour? The not knowing was almost worse than the truth, my imagination conjuring up all manner of dark scenarios, each more terrible than the last. I tossed and turned, my sheets tangled around me, my heart aching with the growing realization that the man I loved was not who I thought he was.

The paranoia grew like a cancer, spreading through every aspect of my life, tainting every interaction with Chrollo. I found myself watching him constantly, analyzing every word, every gesture, looking for some hint of the truth behind the mask. Every phone call he took, every message he received, every unexplained absence became a clue in a puzzle I was desperate to solve, a mystery I couldn't let go. I was consumed by the need to know, to uncover the secrets he was hiding, even as a part of me feared what I might find.

I started making excuses to drop by his apartment unannounced, hoping to catch him off guard, to glimpse the man behind the facade. But Chrollo was always one step ahead, his mask of charm and civility firmly in place, his explanations smooth and plausible. It was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands, always slipping through my fingers just when I thought I had a grasp on the truth. I felt like I was losing my mind, like I was trapped in a maze of lies and half-truths, with no way out.

The strain began to take its toll, the constant state of heightened awareness, of second-guessing every moment. I was distracted at work, jumping at every unexpected noise, seeing shadows in every corner. My friends noticed the change, commenting on my withdrawn behavior, the dark circles under my eyes, the way I seemed to be constantly on edge. I brushed off their concerns with a forced smile and a wave of my hand, not wanting to voice the suspicions that consumed my every waking moment.

I started to pull away, to put distance between us, needing time to clear my head, to make sense of the tangled web of lies and half-truths. I made excuses to avoid seeing him, claiming work obligations or family commitments, my voice shaking only slightly as I lied through my teeth. I needed space, needed to step back and look at the situation objectively, without the haze of love and desire clouding my judgment. But even as I tried to distance myself, I found myself drawn back to him, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of his magnetism.

But Chrollo wouldn't let me go so easily, his presence a constant pull, a magnetic force I couldn't seem to resist. He showed up at my work, at my favorite coffee shop, always with a bouquet of flowers and a contrite smile, his eyes soft and pleading. He promised to be more open, to answer any questions I might have, to lay his secrets bare before me. And for a moment, I wanted to believe him, to fall into the warmth of his embrace and let the world fade away.

I started to dig deeper, to research Chrollo's past, looking for any clue that might explain the inconsistencies, the blank spaces in his history. Late one night, huddled over my laptop with a mug of coffee growing cold beside me, I found it. A news article, buried deep in the archives of a local paper, a few scant paragraphs that made my blood run cold. A string of high-profile thefts, linked to a shadowy group known as the Phantom Troupe, their methods as elusive as their identities. And there, in grainy black and white, a photograph of a man with dark hair and piercing eyes, a face I would know anywhere.

My heart stopped in my chest as I stared at the screen, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place with a sickening clarity. The man I loved, the gentleman with the silver tongue and the devastating smile, was a thief. And not just any thief, but a member of the most notorious criminal organization in the city, a ghost in the shadows, a phantom in the night. I sat back in my chair, my hands shaking as I tried to process the truth, to reconcile the Chrollo I knew with the man in the article.

The reality of my situation crashed over me like a wave, cold and unrelenting. I was in love with a lie, a beautiful fiction wrapped in a tailored suit and a charming smile. The future I had imagined for us, the life I had started to build in my mind, was nothing more than a house of cards, ready to come tumbling down at any moment. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like the walls were closing in around me, trapping me in a nightmare from which there was no escape.

And I had no idea what I was going to do about it.

The truth hung heavy in the air between us, a suffocating presence that filled the room and pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. My heart raced as I confronted Chrollo with the article, my voice trembling with a potent mix of anger, fear, and betrayal. He sat across from me, his posture relaxed, his eyes downcast, his hands resting calmly in his lap. The silence stretched on, broken only by the relentless ticking of the clock on the wall, each second an eternity of agonizing anticipation.

When he finally spoke, his voice was even and measured, devoid of any discernible emotion. "I never intended for you to discover the truth this way," he said, his gaze meeting mine, his dark eyes revealing nothing. "I considered telling you, explaining everything, but I couldn't find the right approach."

Disbelief and heartache surged through me, constricting my throat and stinging my eyes with unshed tears. "Explain what, Chrollo? That our entire relationship has been built on a foundation of lies? That the man I fell in love with is nothing more than a carefully crafted illusion?"

His expression remained impassive, unfazed by my accusation. "The connection between us is genuine, Y/N. My feelings for you, the moments we've shared, none of that was a deception."

A bitter, mirthless laugh escaped my lips, echoing harshly in the oppressive stillness of the room. "But everything else? The thefts, the Phantom Troupe? How can you claim that's not an integral part of who you are?"

Chrollo sighed, a subtle indication of impatience rather than genuine weariness. "It's not that simple. The Troupe is like family to me. We have each other's backs, keep each other safe. What we do isn't solely about financial gain or the adrenaline rush. It's about survival, about carving out a place in a world that's never given us a fair chance."

As I sat there, my mind reeling, a chill crept down my spine, raising goosebumps on my skin. Chrollo's dark eyes bored into mine, a glimmer of something cold and dangerous lurking beneath the surface of his composed exterior. In that moment, the true depth of his detachment became starkly apparent, sending a fresh wave of fear washing over me.

"You need to understand, Y/N," he continued, his voice low and even. "The Phantom Troupe is more than just a gang. It's a way of life. A family bound by blood and loyalty. I've committed heinous acts in the name of that loyalty. Acts that would make your blood run cold."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a trapped bird. "And what about me, Chrollo? Was I just another pawn in your twisted game? Another plaything to be discarded when you grew bored?"

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "No, Y/N. Never. What I feel for you is the closest thing to genuine emotion I've ever experienced. But I won't deceive you. I am what I am. That's not going to change, not even for you."

With shaking legs, I stood up, my entire body trembling with a mixture of fear, anger, and despair. "I can't do this, Chrollo. I can't be a part of your world. The things you've done...the person you truly are...I can't turn a blind eye to that."

He nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I expected as much. I knew this moment would arrive sooner or later. I merely hoped..." He trailed off, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "It's irrelevant now."

I took a step back, my mind struggling to process the revelation of Chrollo's true identity. The man I had fallen for, the charming and enigmatic gentleman, was nothing more than a meticulously crafted facade, a mask concealing the cold, ruthless criminal beneath.

"I can't be a part of this, Chrollo," I repeated, my voice quivering with a mixture of fear and resignation. "I can't be with someone who lives a life of crime, who has no regard for the people he hurts."

Chrollo's expression remained inscrutable, his dark eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Y/N. You see, you've become quite an intriguing diversion for me, a delightful puzzle to unravel. And I'm not in the habit of relinquishing things that keep me entertained."

His words, spoken with chilling calm, carried an unmistakable undercurrent of threat that turned my blood to ice in my veins. "What are you saying, Chrollo?"

A smile devoid of warmth or humor tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It's quite simple, really. You have two options. You can choose to stay with me, to accept me for who and what I am, and continue to be a part of my life. Or..." He paused, his gaze hardening. "You can refuse, and face the consequences."

My heart raced, a sickening realization dawning on me as the true nature of my predicament became clear. "And what consequences would those be?"

Chrollo shrugged, the gesture casual and unconcerned. "Death, of course. I can't risk you going to the authorities, exposing me and my associates. If you can't be with me, then you can't be allowed to live."

The words hung in the air between us, a chilling ultimatum that left me feeling trapped and utterly helpless. I searched Chrollo's face for any sign of remorse, any hint of the man I had thought I knew, but found only cold, calculating resolve.

"I...I need time to think," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, my throat constricted with fear and despair.

Chrollo nodded, his expression impassive. "Of course. Take all the time you need, Y/N. But remember, the clock is ticking. And I'm not a patient man."

With those words, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone, the weight of his ultimatum crushing down on me. I sank to the floor, my legs no longer able to support me, as the full horror of my situation crashed over me in relentless waves.

I was trapped, caught between a love that had turned to ashes and a fate worse than death. And no matter which path I chose, I knew that my life would never be the same again.

I sat there, numb and disbelieving, as Chrollo's words echoed in my mind. Stay with him, or die. The choice was no choice at all, a cruel mockery of free will in the face of his cold ultimatum. With a heavy heart and an overwhelming sense of despair, I realized that I had no other option.

"I'll stay," I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue, tasting of ashes and defeat. "I'll stay with you, Chrollo."

He nodded, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark eyes, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A wise decision, Y/N. I knew you'd see reason."

But even as I agreed to his terms, a part of me rebelled against the idea of being trapped in this nightmare, of living a life shackled to a man who saw me as nothing more than a possession, a plaything to be discarded when he tired of me.

In the days that followed, I went through the motions of my life, a hollow shell of my former self. I smiled when Chrollo was around, played the role of the dutiful girlfriend, but inside, I was screaming, my soul withering with each passing moment. The weight of my despair pressed down on me, suffocating me slowly, day by day.

I couldn't bear the thought of living like this forever, of being forever bound to a monster who held no love, no true affection for me. In a moment of desperation, I made a decision. If I couldn't escape Chrollo in life, then I would find my freedom in death.

I sat in the bathtub, the steaming water lapping at my skin, providing no comfort to the icy numbness that had settled in my heart. The razor blade rested against my wrist, the metal cool and inviting, a whispered promise of release from the nightmare my life had become. My hand trembled, the weight of my decision bearing down on me, tears streaming down my face and mingling with the bathwater.

But even as I sat there, the razor poised to end my suffering, I couldn't bring myself to do it. My hand shook, the blade biting into my skin, drawing a thin line of crimson, but I couldn't find the strength, the resolve, to finish the job. Sobs wracked my body, my chest heaving with the force of my anguish, as I sat there, paralyzed by fear and despair.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

My head snapped up, my heart leaping into my throat at the sound of Chrollo's voice. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a look of detached amusement on his face, as if he'd stumbled upon a mildly entertaining scene.

"Chrollo..." I whispered, my voice hoarse and broken, barely recognizable to my own ears.

He pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the bathroom, his movements casual and unhurried. "Did you really think I wouldn't know, Y/N? That I wouldn't sense your desperation, your pathetic attempt at escape?"

I lowered my gaze, shame and despair warring within me, my cheeks burning with humiliation. "I can't do this anymore, Chrollo. I can't live like this."

He crouched down beside the tub, his dark eyes glittering with a cruel sort of amusement. "And yet, here you are, unable to even commit to your own demise. How tragic."

With a sudden motion, he grasped my wrist, yanking the razor from my fingers. I gasped, more from surprise than pain, as he held the blade up to the light, examining it with a detached sort of interest.

"Did you really think this would be the answer, Y/N? That you could escape me, escape your fate, with something as trivial as this?"

He tossed the razor aside, the metal clattering against the tile floor, and cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You're mine, Y/N. Forever. And no matter how many times you try to run, to hide, to end your own miserable existence, I will always find you. I will always bring you back."

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the bathwater, as the hopelessness of my situation crashed over me anew. Chrollo was right. There was no escape, no way out of this hell I had foolishly walked into.

He stood, looking down at me with a mixture of pity and cold amusement. "Clean yourself up, Y/N. And let this be a lesson to you. Your life is mine, to do with as I please. And I'm not done with you yet."

With those words, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the bath, my skin pruning in the cooling water, my heart shattered beyond repair. I had gambled everything on Chrollo, on the love I thought we shared, and I had lost. And now, I had to live with the consequences, forever trapped in a nightmare of my own making.

Chrollo led me from the bathroom, his hand wrapped around my wrist in a grip that was both gentle and unyielding. I followed him numbly, my mind still reeling from the events that had transpired, the razor's bite still stinging on my skin. He guided me to the bed, the plush comforter soft beneath my bare legs as he lowered me onto the mattress.

I sat there, my hands clasped in my lap, my eyes downcast, as he moved about the room, his presence a tangible force, a weight pressing down on me from all sides. Fear and despair coiled in my gut, my heart racing as I tried to anticipate his next move, dreading what new torment he might have in store for me.

"Look at me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice soft but firm, leaving no room for disobedience.

I obeyed, raising my gaze to meet his, my breath catching in my throat at the intensity I saw there. He stood before me, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark hair falling across his brow in a way that was both casual and calculated.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, his tone almost conversational, as if we were discussing the weather rather than the complete and utter destruction of my life. "Do you see the futility of your actions, the pointlessness of your resistance?"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with unshed tears. "I understand that I'm trapped," I whispered, my voice hoarse and raw, barely recognizable to my own ears. "That there's no escape from this nightmare, from you."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good. You're learning."

He reached out, his fingers ghosting along my cheek, tracing the curve of my jaw with a touch that was almost tender. I shivered, my skin prickling with a mixture of fear and revulsion, my stomach churning at the unwanted contact.

"You belong to me, Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, sending a chill down my spine. "Body and soul, heart and mind. There is no part of you that is not mine, no corner of your being that I do not possess."

I closed my eyes, a single tear escaping to trail down my cheek, the hot sting of it a bitter reminder of my helplessness. He was right. I was his, wholly and completely, a moth caught in the web of a spider, helpless to resist the pull of his power.

Chrollo's lips brushed against my skin, trailing a path of fire down the column of my throat. I gasped, my hands fisting in the comforter, my body responding to his touch despite the revulsion that churned in my gut, despite the voice in my head screaming at me to fight, to resist, to do anything but submit to his twisted desires.

"You will never leave me," he whispered, his words a dark promise, a vow etched in blood and tears. "You will never escape. You are mine, now and forever."

And as his mouth descended on mine, his hands roaming over my body with a possessiveness that bordered on violence, I knew that he was right. There was no escape. Not for me, and not for anyone else who crossed his path.

I was his. And there was nothing I could do about it.

His kiss was like a drug, the taste of him addictive, the feel of his hands on my body intoxicating. I tried to resist, to push him away, but it was a futile effort. My body betrayed me, arching into his touch, craving more.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire, his breath ragged against my skin. "You can fight me all you want, Y/N. But in the end, you'll give in. You'll surrender to me, just as you did before."

"I won't," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

He smiled, a cold, cruel smile that sent a chill down my spine. "We'll see about that."

With a growl, he claimed my mouth again, his lips rough against mine, his teeth nipping at my skin. I cried out, my nails digging into his back, my body surrendering to the pleasure even as my mind screamed in protest.

I knew this was wrong, that I should resist, should fight him with every fiber of my being. But the line between pain and pleasure was blurred, the boundary between fear and desire a thin and fragile thing. And as he ravaged my body, his touch bruising, his voice a low and menacing growl in my ear, I realized with a sickening jolt that a part of me wanted this.

A part of me craved the pain, the darkness, the twisted power play. And that realization, more than anything else, was the final nail in the coffin of my doomed resistance.

Chrollo's hands moved over my body, his fingers tracing the lines of my hips, the curve of my breasts, a strange mix of gentleness and possessiveness in his touch. I gasped, arching into him, my pulse racing, a dull ache building between my thighs.

"That's it," he murmured, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of my neck. "Give in to me, Y/N. Surrender."

His teeth grazed my earlobe, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. I moaned, my fingers tangling in his hair, his name a whisper on my lips.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice rough and low. "Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours," I breathed, the words tumbling from my lips without hesitation, a damning admission of defeat. "I'm yours, Chrollo."

He kissed me again, hard and possessive, his tongue delving into my mouth. I surrendered to him, my body and mind consumed by the raw, primal need that burned between us.

He pulled back, his gaze dark and hungry, a satisfied smile curving his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his thumb brushing across my swollen lips. "Now, let's see just how much you're willing to give me."

He moved with a predatory grace, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, his body a weapon honed to lethal perfection. He knelt before me, his fingers deft and sure, as he spread my thighs, his lips ghosting across my heated flesh.

I cried out, my back arching off the bed, as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves at my core. He growled, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me in place as he feasted on my body, his tongue and lips working their dark magic on me.

Pleasure rippled through me, hot and urgent, my skin tingling with electricity. I gasped, my hands clutching at the sheets, my body writhing beneath his touch.

"Chrollo," I moaned, my voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, please..."

He laughed, a dark and dangerous sound, his eyes glinting with a mix of lust and amusement. "Please what, Y/N?"

"Please," I begged, the word a broken whisper, a plea for release. "I need you."

"What do you need?" he asked, his tone mocking.

"I need you inside me," I gasped, my body aching with desire, a dull, throbbing heat pulsing through my veins. "Please, Chrollo, I need you to fuck me."

His eyes darkened, a look of pure, animalistic lust flashing across his features. With a low growl, he rose to his feet, his fingers digging into my hips, lifting me effortlessly, and drove himself into me, the sudden fullness tearing a cry from my lips.

I clung to him, my nails scoring his back, my body shuddering with the force of his thrusts. He claimed me, his mouth hot and hungry on mine, his hands gripping my flesh with a bruising intensity.

The room was filled with the sounds of our bodies colliding, the scent of our desire hanging heavy in the air. I cried out, my voice hoarse and raw, the waves of pleasure crashing over me, drowning out all thought, all reason.

I lost myself in the moment, in the feeling of him inside me, filling me, completing me. For a brief, shining moment, there was nothing but us, our bodies moving as one, the line between pain and pleasure blurred and meaningless.

And then, with a cry, I shattered, my body convulsing, the release tearing through me, an explosion of sensation. I felt him follow, his movements growing erratic, his breath a ragged gasp in my ear, his release hot and intense.

We collapsed in a tangle of limbs, the sweat cooling on our skin, the aftershocks of our shared pleasure still rippling through us. I lay there, breathless and spent, a strange mix of emotions churning within me.

I was disgusted with myself, with the way I had surrendered to him, with the pleasure I had found in his arms. But beneath that revulsion, buried deep beneath the surface, was a sense of shameful satisfaction, a twisted sort of gratification.

I had given in to him. I had surrendered to the darkness, the madness, the primal desire that raged between us. And as his arms tightened around me, his breath warm against my skin, a part of me reveled in the knowledge that, no matter what happened, he would always be a part of me.

"Are you satisfied?"

The question hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning, with implications. I glanced at Chrollo, my gaze flicking over his naked form, his skin still flushed with the aftermath of our encounter. He was watching me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the challenge clear in his dark eyes.

"No," I replied, meeting his gaze evenly, a thrill of anticipation running through me. "I'm not."

Chrollo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest sparking in his dark eyes. "Oh? And what more could you possibly want, Y/N?"

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest as I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I want the truth, Chrollo. The real you, not the mask you wear for the world."

A slow smile spread across his face, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Careful what you wish for, my dear. The truth can be a dangerous thing."

I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I knew the risks when I chose to stay with you. I'm not afraid of the darkness."

Chrollo chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Brave words, Y/N. But we both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin, his fingers trailing along the curve of my jaw. "You may think you want the monster, but can you truly handle the reality of what I am?"

I met his gaze unflinchingly, my pulse racing with a heady mix of fear and desire. "There's only one way to find out."

With a sudden movement, Chrollo pinned me to the bed, his body covering mine, his eyes glittering with a dark hunger. "Then let me show you," he murmured, his mouth descending on mine in a searing kiss.

As the hours passed and the shadows lengthened, we lay there, entwined, our bodies slick with sweat, the air heavy with the scent of our mingled desire. Chrollo traced idle patterns on my skin, his fingers moving over my body with a familiarity born of countless encounters. But there was a distant look in his eyes, a contemplative expression that I hadn't seen before.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, curious despite myself.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze focused on something far away. "I was wondering," he said at last, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "how things might have been different, if we had met under other circumstances."

I felt a flicker of surprise at his words, a strange sensation of hope and longing stirring in my chest. "What do you mean?"

Chrollo sighed, his fingers stilling on my skin. "If I wasn't who I am, if I wasn't a criminal, a member of the Phantom Troupe... could we have had something real, something genuine?"

I swallowed hard, my heart aching at the wistfulness in his tone. "I don't know," I replied honestly. "But I'd like to think so."

He smiled then, a sad, fleeting thing that barely touched his eyes. "In another life, perhaps I could have truly fallen in love with you, Y/N. Without the lies, the secrets, the constant threat of danger hanging over us."

I reached up, cupping his cheek in my hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble against my palm. "But this is the life we have, Chrollo. The one we've chosen, for better or worse."

He leaned into my touch, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. "I know. And I don't regret it, not really. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder..."

His words trailed off, the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air between us. I knew what he meant, knew the bittersweet ache of imagining a different path, a different fate. But we both knew that there was no going back, no changing the choices we had made.

"We have each other," I said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Here and now. That's what matters."

Chrollo smiled, a real smile this time, his eyes warm and fond as they met mine. "You're right," he murmured, pulling me closer, his arms tightening around me. "And I wouldn't trade it for anything."

[snoutbleed]

Telling a story takes guts.

Forensic photographer Sören Heinrich can’t ignore the nausea bubbling in his throat when documenting someone's darkest day. He loses sleep over the fates he captures but is drawn to the purpose vested in his grisly role. When blood-slicked prints become Sören's next subject, he finds a message that blurs the line between his personal and professional life.

"This is where I’ve been. Don’t follow."

Unable to fathom his long-lost brother’s crimson handwriting, Sören descends into the criminal underworld for answers. The young boar's inner demons guide him toward a morbid self-reckoning.

Direktion 2 has their work cut out for them.

Crime is on the rise in post-reunification Berlin. Among the cases, the Polizeidirektorate in the city's westernmost boroughs is baffled by freak murders at the hands of denizens without motive.

In the shadow of the Berlin Wall, the crime wave takes a supernatural twist behind the lock of a post-Soviet puzzle.

Camera flashes at the crime scenes reveal gruesome secrets stirring in the shadows.

Unravel the conspiracy in #LONG STORY SHORT.

#The Filing Cabinet -- scan the profiles of those in the know. #Bloodstained Polaroids -- view the images of lives gone astray. #Evidence Board -- learn the details of secrets best kept. #Mystery Signals -- behold the lore of the mind melt. Face the music in the official Long Story Short playlist!

Everyone gathers toward the Abschnitt.

There are several Polizei Berlin stations like the Abschnitt, but everyone tied to this supernatural symphony ends up near this Spandau station particularly.

Sören Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The black sheep of the Abschnitt. Sören’s abrasive nature keeps his co-workers at bay, a division widened by their western ideals clashing with his East German upbringing. He distances himself from the station through tight focus on his job, always the first to arrive at a crime scene. Don Jae Hale -- ( elk | tag | bio ) The silver-tongued Kriminalhauptkommissar of the Abschnitt. Hale is quick to dismiss the killings up until his leadership comes under siege by the paranoid public. Umeya Romanova -- ( fox | tag | bio ) The Bundeskriminalamt detective sent to assist with the Abschnitt’s mounting cases. Rumor says Umeya is there for more than the mystery, but her motives veiled by a callous attitude. Marieke Reiss -- ( rabbit | tag | bio ) The star psychology student barely escaped a killing. Now a key witness, Marieke can’t rest easy knowing she could be the next victim, driving her to take matters into her own hands. Reinhardt Müller -- ( donkey | tag | bio ) The Abschnitt’s disgraced ace detective, worn down and living in the grimy corners of Berlin. When crime spikes, Reinhardt tries to relive his “glory days" of detective work. Ukko Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The crime lord defends his territory with brutal but firm methods. He's sworn to his found family, the country's political rift making him protective to a fault. Vorwitz Albrecht -- ( bat | tag | bio ) A gardener with good banners but bad morals. Vorwitz's unsavory career choices put him in the Abschnitt, but he finds a way out with Sören.

Entropy knows no bounds.

Stop, look and listen: stories are everywhere. Behold my settings.

Face more madness in #TALES GONE STALE.

LAID TO WASTE -- an abomination stirs in the bayou, its secrets poisoning a township. THE WASTED LIVES -- a group of galactic fugitives embark on a never-ending getaway on a runaway cruiser. (Links need an update. Stay tuned.)

The mind behind the melancholy.

ACHTUNG! This blog is 18+ for gore and suggestive content!

You can call me Dissy (she/her). I'm a writer with stories and ideas always bouncing inside my head, especially this one. Feel free to ask me about myself, my writing, my characters, or anything else. I promise you I can bark up a tree for hours.

I also do Polaroid photography: check out @hogrot for my shots!

I also encourage comments, critique, etc. about this setting. I want to pace myself while writing this, therefore I have all the time I need to refine this where I can. I don't expect this story to come out for a while anyway, especially as I run it through critiques. Hell, this pet project wouldn't have come into fruition thanks to the feedback of some incredible friends.

Shoutout to PYRY for doing character design and art for this setting, as well as giving his ideas and characters for the Heinrich plotline. Go check out his killer art. This story wouldn't exist without him.

Another shoutout to @tsanapi, an incredible artist who drew the art pictured above. Her sense of style is so keen.

And a final thanks to you, the reader, for tuning into the mind melt. This signals wouldn't have picked up without you.

[leggerefiore]

Entropy

cw: giratina volo, pokehybrid au, volo centric, 3333 words,

pairing: Volo/Reader

summary: Volo escapes from his banishment and plans to forcibly usurp the powers of Arceus. Sadly, he finds himself played in a trap by the deity with a certain human sent to stop him and his own feelings.

-----

It was a lonely existence that he lived.

He lived in shadows, in a corrupted, distorted world that was unlike the one he could only observe from a distance.

Why was he banished here, unable to interact with others, you may ask? Well, the Renegade pokemon had perhaps made a certain creator deity a bit too mad with his violence. Still, Volo could not help but feel anger for his situation.

Cogita – Arceus – Whatever the damn deity wanted to call herself today, banished him to this world and prevented his reentry into the one he observed. Sure, he had foolishly attempted to stand against her and take her power as his own, but her own strength and that of Dialga and Palkia sent him here and left him. He felt his blood boil the longer he watched humanity through his empty glances.

Hisui, the land in which Arceus supposedly first made, had caught his attention for numerous reasons. It was where his first violent outburst had happened. The blond sighed.

Was this envy? Desperation? Did he want the deity that had created him and then refused to take responsibility for him to be forced to lay her eyes on him once more? He was lonely, he knew.

His long wings, shadowy and like tendrils, swished behind him as he moved. He wished to leave this place. It was both his home and his prison, but he was tired of being locked inside. Centuries of isolation could weigh heavily upon even an immortal being like himself.

His eyes landed upon the clans of Hisui, led by the two that had helped seal him. More rage bubbled up inside him. There had been enough of him waiting around.

An attack called forth from him, slashing the very fabric that tethered the space and time of where he was trapped and into the other world. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then… there was everything. His body forcibly shifted in this world, wings fusing together into a singular entity and his ridges along his neck sealing into the pale flesh underneath. He gasped in a breath. Icy winds lashed around his as chilled water fell from the clouds. He tried to flap his wings, but he had not yet adjusted to his new form. The ground grew closer and closer…

And he crashed.

Volo laid on the muddy ground, eyes peering at the sky distantly. The portal slowly closed, leaving him where he was. He felt exhausted. Everything around him was too distant for him to gasp on to. His eyelids felt like lead as they slowly began to close.

Suddenly, however, a weight crawled onto him. He opened his eyes from the surprise to see a small pokemon had got onto his chest. The pokemon was egg-like and let out a small chirp, nuzzling into him. Confusion rushed through the dragon's mind. Carefully, he reached a hand out to touch the pokemon. It rubbed its cheek against his skin.

Volo felt completely awake.

A smile spread across his lips.

He had made it.

Arceus could no longer restrain him, and he would usurp her power for certain this time.

~

Time passed, Volo entirely managed to hide his features that gave away his true nature, both physically and psychologically. A merchant's guild had taken him in and employed him, much to his luck. He easily became a friendly face among the humans of the Galaxy Team and the clans. A travelling merchant who preferred to spend his time staring at ruins and artefacts rather than selling things.

He felt lucky.

His disguise had given him a perfect opportunity to go to the temple that lied at the peak of Mt. Coronet and begin his plan.

Once again, he unleashed his move and tore a rift in space and time above all of Hisui.

He watched as a poor sap was pulled through from some other place and time in the world. There was little reason for him to seek after the by-product of his destruction, however.

Over the coming days, he watched as the populace of Hisui became aware and frightened of the looming portal hovering above their lands. The person who had fallen through his portal had not a single a memory of what had happened to him before waking up in the frigid lands of the north most icelands. A certain pokemon of the lake had made sure of that.

He watched as speculations went wild, but not one dared to involve him. Volo escaped any suspicion of foul play by his friendly yet distant nature as a merchant.

Soon, the portal would force the clan leaders to act and try to stop the portal, lest it pull them in itself. Dialga and Palkia would fail, he knew. This trap of his design was impossible to stop otherwise.

That was what he thought, but then something he never could have expected came forth.

Arceus sought to spite him by bringing out a human to stand against him. Taken from out of space and time, falling through a portal similar to his own. He encountered them carefully, observing how they acted. They were nearly as confused and lost as the person he had accidentally brought through his own portal. He even challenged them to a battle to observe their capabilities there.

Needless to say, they easily beat his low level Togepi. He could feel their potential and pondered how to stop them before they became too much of an issue for him. There was something that he noted as they spoke to him, however. A twinkle of trust in their eyes toward them. He could not understand it himself, but any opportunity that bared itself to him would be exploited.

The legendary would set out to become your trusted ally. His friendly demeanour was obviously a welcome change to the harsh looks and suspicious glances of the Galaxy Team. He felt smug as he watched you head out to do your tasks, keeping an eye on you from a distance. Even scaring you once, much to your obvious distaste. You gave him a glare, but he offered you catching advice and an amicable grin.

It was only after you truly quelled a raging Noble, another side effect of his plan, that he realised that you would truly become a problem if he did not stop you. Volo felt frustrated Arceus would spite him with such an odd and cruel punishment. He felt even more mortified when you presented him a plate of Arceus.

… But Volo was no idiot. If his first plan failed, having a backup would never be a bad idea. You had a plate. A plate he knew very well could call out Arceus from her realm.

Poor you just had to be dragged into this by a cruel deity.

Volo's continued monitoring involved battles and attempts to dissuade you from your actions or helping you to the best of his abilities. It was most unfortunate that these involved your random bursts of bright smiles or blissfully ignorant words.

It was only after he found you utterly dejected after being banished from Jubilife when you had just helped everyone with their nobles that he realised something. A strange feeling had been beginning to bud within him for a quite a while. You were pitiful, truly. Brave and reliable, but pitiful. An outsider forced from your home by a deity to fulfil its job since it refused to play its game. When he called out to you, he watched as you turned to look at him, completely deflated. Even the clans had denied you assistance in your grave time of need, fearful of Team Galaxy.

He wanted to laugh at how pitiful the gods of time and space had proven themselves to be. Softly, he laid a hand on your shoulder and promised to take you somewhere for you to stay.

His campsite was certainly lacking, but it was not as though he could take you to his true home. Then you would be fully aware of how easily he was playing you. A pokemon from the team had appeared not long after you settled down. He shook his head at the action. If they truly cared for you, why would they have allowed your banishment? Volo understood your situation with ease. Which is why he decided to go with his second plan completely now. He was well aware of the plates you had collected through your journeys.

That is why he helped you mend the very disaster he had started. Gathering the power of the lake trio and using the red chain to stop Palkia and to stand beside her to stop the frenzied Dialga. He felt annoyed, watching from a distance, but amazed that you had the willpower to stand against the very people who wished ill-will upon you and stand alongside legendaries regarded as deities so easily.

Of course, he remained out of sight and away from them for good reason. One glance at him from either of those two would blow his entire cover completely away. Even disguised as a human, they would recognise him. He did not miss the glance back they would give back to his general area when he stood out too much.

Volo felt something when he watched Dialga embrace you after snapping him out of his frenzied state. Rage poured into his heart. Something about you made him want you all to himself, just as pitiful as you were during your stay in his camp. His plans were to keep you at his side after he stole Arceus's power for his own.

He would just have to convince you now, to help him with his next plan. After all, gathering the plates now on his own would be useless, as he only had a single one in his possession. Besides, he found himself oddly entranced with the idea of spending time with you.

Of course, you eagerly agreed, clearly happy to spend more time with him and wanting to know more about the mysteries of Hisui, too. Volo easily led you around the region, searching for the item required for his next plans. An unintended side effect of his plan unfortunately arose as he spent more and more time with you.

Hi chest tightened when you smiled at him, leaned against him during colder nights, hugged him after a difficult battle, or said such sweet words to him. There was no time to second guess himself at this point. He was too far into his plan to lure out Arceus once more to snatch you away and hide you in his dimension for all eternity, but, he supposed, if this plan failed, he would do just that.

Somewhere in the middle of his hunt with you, a familiar woman appeared before him and you while searching for information on the final plate he needed. Her grey eyes identical to his own, and an ancient, primordial energy swirled around her. He bit his tongue, knowing better to play her in her own domain. She just sighed and shook her head at you both. You tilted your head at her sudden appearance in the village.

“… Volo,” her voice was filled with heavy disappointment, “Have you learnt nothing?” Your gaze went between them curiously.

“Mistress Cogita, how rare to see you,” he forced a smile on his face to continue playing his part, “You know very well how deeply I love to learn about Hisuian legends and myths more than anyone.” As if he had not watched them develop over time from his prison as her unwanted child. She shook her head.

“You haven't then, I suppose,” her attention shifted to you, “He hasn't been too awful, has he?” You shook your head and turned to him with a sweet grin.

“I… I really like him, actually,” your voice was soft, “Doing all this with him has really made me see how much he loves his hobbies…” Cogita's eyebrow raised curiously.

“… I see,” she turned away from them both and gave one last look over her shoulder, “The Pixie Plate is in the Ancient Retreat. You know the place well, Volo.” With that, she walked out of the village and disappeared.

You looked at Volo curiously. He sighed and made up a story about her being his grandmother. They were distant, and that is why he never mentioned her before. You believed it easily. Assembly much easier than you would have believed her to be, the very being you were working towards summoning.

When he told you the story of Giratina, himself, as you walked to the remote location of the location given to you both by Cogita. Your brows pressed together as you listened to him carefully. In the end, he wondered what your opinion of the situation would be. You stopped dead in your tracks and hummed.

“If Giratina was unwanted, why would Arceus make it then?” you asked him curiously, “… You make it sound almost personal, actually. Do you sympathise with Giratina, Volo?” He froze, too. How astute were you? He supposed his bias was not hidden.

“I do,” he said plainly, “I believe Arceus should have taken more responsibility for its creation rather than banishing it. You should know all too well how cruel banishment is.” You were the stunned one this time. Your eyes went to the ground, but your hand grabbed his own.

“I do, Volo, I do know,” you told him, “But… I suppose I can understand why Kamado did, too… I don't know. Is Giratina still banished even after all this time?”

“… Yes,” he said simply, “I'm hoping it will make its appearance at the Temple of Sinnoh after we obtain all the plates.” You nodded but kept your hand locked with his. Stepping to his side, you leaned against him.

“Well, maybe after freeing Giratina from its banishment, it will understand why it happened,” you wondered aloud. Volo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Still, the feeling of being so close to his goals, and you, made him elated.

~

The time came as Volo stood in his true form at the destroyed Temple of Sinnoh. Cold winds lashed at his skin as he stared intently at the sky where his portal once reigned. You were going to arrive soon. How would you react to this truth? Anger? Rage? Dare he even consider… Acceptance? Either way, you two were about to stand opposed. He could already tell that you would not support his urge to create his own, better world than this one.

As much as he had come to care and even… love you. He knew you could not support this, not as Arceus's chosen one. His brain had been a mess since that horrid portal spit you out and laid you before him.

“… Volo,” your voice was soft as he turned to face you. Your eyes were not wide but rather red and glossy. No words had to be said, you understood it all at a glance. “… You were behind it all, weren't you?” you decided to ask the question which held the weight of the world.

“Of course,” his eyes grew cold, but he would still try to have you see his side, “This world is cruel. Ruled by an apathetic deity who would rather banish a being she created rather than take responsibility for him. She is only intervening now as a means to preserve her power. I will create a new, better world.” His hand reached for the pokeball of the first being that had greeted him in this world. You shook your head and imitated his action.

The battle was intense. Volo had not shown you his true hand until now. Battling was something that came naturally to him, especially in a moment where everything lied upon his victory. You were no pushover, either, obviously experienced in your own way. Even after you defeated his last pokemon on his team, he refused to accept it.

If he…

If he lost, he would be banished again. Left in complete and utter isolation and only able to observe distantly.

He would lose you.

In his madness, Volo himself took to battle against you as Giratina, both of his forms employed. Still, even despite the harsh adversity of going against someone as physically strong as he was, you managed to rip victory from his hands.

He fell to his knees. Rage and terror brewing heavily with him. Sadness creeping in from the edges. You breathed heavily, watching him for any more unpredictable actions.

Nothing came.

A hand rested on his shoulder as light poured too brightly behind him.

“… Volo, that is enough,” Cogita's voice was harsh yet pitiful, “I do not hate nor do I consider you unwanted. I simply do not trust you to interact with humans and pokemon of this world without harming them.” You gasped at the sight of her, thoroughly different from the dark clothing she had worn in her human disguise.

You stood up tall.

“Please… Don't banish him alone,” you begged her, “Don't banish him at all… I'll watch him. So, please.”

She gave a curious glance at you and shook her head with a sigh. “Volo… You claim you love them, do you not? Why not protect the world they so love, then?” she questioned him. His head remained low.

You had been through so much pain, just as he had at the hand of Arceus. You were kindred spirits, but you had her favour while he did not.

“… Would you even allow me to come and go into this realm as I pleased,” he wondered? Cogita gazed down at him intensely.

“Of course, if you swear to quit causing problems,” she knelt down and softly brought a hand to comb through his hair, “I do care for you and want you to be happy despite what you believe me to be. Why do you think I even bothered to let you do all of this?” He froze from both her words and the unexpected affection.

You smiled down at him. He felt stuck. If he denied everything Cogita had said, he would be banished back into the Distortion World with no hope of ever escaping, and you would be let here alone. If he agreed, he did not know what to do.

“Fine,” he relented, “… Just don't expect me to be like those two.” Cogita laughed, unexpectedly.

“I never expected you to be like Palkia and Dialga in the first place,” she stood herself and him up. Her eyes, now glowing green, turned to you, “I will hold you to your words to watch him.” You nodded.

You walked over to carry him on your shoulder as you took him from her, his injuries from the battle still needing to be tended to. She watched you both with curious eyes.

Before she left, Cogita leaned into your ear and whispered that Volo was truly her favourite of the three before disappearing into the clouds above. You understood her feelings entirely as you watched the blond man barely keep himself on his feet.

“I love you, Volo,” you told him plainly as you headed back towards the nearest base camp, “I didn't want you to be alone again… I didn't want you to be banished from this world.”

He was silent for a moment after your confession. Closing his eyes, he soaked in the feelings that the words brought him.

“I love you, too,” he managed to get out.

Sadly, despite your love, he was still a wanted criminal in Hisui for the whole nearly destroying the world thing, so he had to return to his dimension for the most part. On the bright side, you could visit him and get away from the stresses of your Survey Corps duties.

[fras-redacted-shapes]

If The End of Time is another version of The Dark Place I hope that means it's the inevitability of it happening the element that Remedy devs will be integrating.

Both already have similar properties: fucked/non linear time, only a narrow set of people are able to traverse it, Door/Hatch, etc.

Quantum Break's tragedy is the futile fight against death and entropy. The End of Time will happen no matter how much anyone fights it. It's science horror. You cannot avoid it, and every attempt at that only seems to strengthen its inevitability.

The Final Draft was a far more hopeful ending. The Dark Place being more a psychological/emotional torture chamber, several people have broken out of it or were successful in navigating it and using it for their own goals.

This contrast between The End of Time's monolithic inevitability vs The Dark Place's malleability is such an interesting playground.

The things that make me think some fucked up, world-altering catastrophic event are the images in Dylan's final cinematic, Zane emerging from the well in Yötön Yö and The Dark Presence being dormant in Alan when he first comes out. Dylan has the potential to be another "unsuspecting" carrier of a destructive entity into the outside world.

A Nightless Night over a frozen landscape, exit well, the world overtaken!

And maybe it's just me, but a return to the status quo is such an overused and expected result. I'd prefer it if the world would also survive the trauma of existence and proudly wear the scars alongside its inhabitants.

[minniiaa]

(One Piece, Law x Luffy, Explicit)

Law spent ten years praying that his soulmate would never find him. He couldn't accept that his life would be decided by something as arbitrary as "fate." Even after he meets his soulmate, Luffy, Law still desires to break free from the chains of a lifelong commitment he never asked for.

Luffy had been waiting for his soulmate for as long as he could remember. He is overjoyed when he meets Law and he's everything Luffy ever dreamed. He just can't understand why Law won't simply love him as fate decided.

Together, they face a problem much bigger than their feelings on soulmates and each other—soul bindings are absolute. If you reject your soulmate, you die.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Rejection, Smut, Self-Harm, Eventual Happy Ending, Law is Fucked Up, Psychological Trauma, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, My Inner Demons Wrote This, Angst and Fluff and Smut, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Romance, Switch Trafalgar D. Water Law, Switch Monkey. D. Luffy, Forgiveness, Fantasy elements, Manipulation by a Strange Entity, Occasional Telepathy, Trafalgar D. Water Law Needs a Hug, Monkey D. Luffy Needs a Hug, Soulmates

Length - 8 Chapters // 71,676 words

[lightlessentwine]

I don't believe Miquella to have simply failed at the hands of Mohg. I think he is trying to subject himself to a literalization of the alchemical process related to self actualization; essentially his goal has been to become a human philosopher's stone the entire time.

By making Radahn let go of his grasp over gravity and thus spacetime, the Eclipse may come to pass. within Elden Ring, entropy exists outside of spacetime which is why Death may persist in the many ways it seems to, or why Rot still spreads and Gold still tarnishes (Rot is the embodiment of stagnation and thus flourishes in the lands between as things are; pure Gold staves off the effects because it is a symbol of pure Faith; it grants the will of the user based on their belief, which can fade causing the Gold to tarnish)

Miquella has likely separated body and soul via the haligtree to leave a corpse in the blood of the formless mother- the outer god of truth. meanwhile, expecting capture, their spirit spreads faith as a ghost-like spirit, under the guise of St. Trina.. Miquella has found a way to traverse what i twntatively call "The Lands Between The Lands Between".. spreading faith in their spirit through their dreams-- as in Miquella/St. Trina. Miquella is Saint Trina, the same way Radagon is Marika. i think Miquella/Trina have managed to separate their spirit and give each their own identity.

St. Trina is the Spirit of Miquella. in fact, Trina is a reflection of Miquella, and i mean that on multiple levels: they are demonstrating understanding of the alchemical principle of "The Unity of Opposites" which ties into both alchemy and (the somewhat dated practice of) jungian psychology. basically, they're carefully planning and gambling on their every move as they position their twin spirit to contrast in a perfect dichotomy.

"Shadow of the Erdtree" could take place at a point where all is aligned in Miquella/Trina's favor, allowing their separate personas to re-emerge as one perfectly balanced entity known as a Rebis

The Dark Moon's presence could spur Deathroot to grow much stronger and faster. the light of the Golden Erdtree now gone and no longer even burning, The Dark Moon then strangles and bends any remaining Erdtrees. the lack of light pollution now reveals a light source; a previously unseen ball of light in the sky; a proper Sun. These massive, Erdtree-sized Deathroots grip and squeeze golden sap from the Erdtrees that once bore life and formed miraculous crystals. as the Dark Moon crosses the sky in front of said Sun, Death becomes life itself, the concepts overlapping as Life's inseperable counterpart flourishes.

from here, like a sick Easter in the Lands Between; The Body of Miquella awakens soulless and without a will of its own. Alongside it, the corpses of Godwyn and Ranni.*

as the light of Gold wanes, the namely Shadow of the Erdtree is cast by a Sun that, beyond some lost or forgotten Belfry or passage, was once blocked from shining light where Trina's spirit presently slept. She now awakes from her slumber, the returning Sun acts as the signal for her to act. She collects the golden sap from the wrung trees on her quest to reconvene with her body as it lay soaking.

the putrefying body of the sun lie slumbering within an egg. the Spirit of the Moon and patron saint of slumber, a reflection of the light of the Sun.. the physical body soaked in the red blood of truth and their ephemeral spirit wringing the golden yellow sap of faith from the branches that once bore them like fruit

all is in perfect pull of one another, and every aspect appears to be in place for their transformarion into a Rebis: a Blackened Corpse, a Pure white reflection, the Red Blood of truth and the Golden sap of Faith

[pigeoninabowl69]

Thermodynamic lawyer thing

So i haven't seen much people talking about thermodynamic lawyer's themes (except the bozos who think Will's an ableist cuz of the autistic baby in a ceiling fan, crying)

So the song mentions a woman that were on a relationship (maybe platonic, maybe romantic idk) with TL's protagonist (from now on im referring thermodynamic lawyer as TL)

And just to say at least she's the definition of a DOUCHEBAG

according to the song she's an extreme asshole and blames it on *checks notes* ah yes, mental illness how classic

so basically she's like the typical jerk you would find on COD lobbies:

-type of person to ruin the fun (or if the song was literal then just give spoilers to everyone)

-can't accept losing on anything, and even worse, getting aggresive when told they're in the wrong

and blah blah

The last part when it says ''so all that i see absolute entropy as the chemical bonds fall apart'' is def a metaphor on how the relationship is pure chaos and their chemistry is becoming more notorious to be nule

so they break up

The protagonist has some issues after the break-up, not because the actual separation but because the girl was sooo shitty she left him with some psychological damage

and even tho he's left ''broken'', he's happy they broke up and i mean, who's not?

now, the last LAST part of TL (in the OG version) just says repeatedly ''(kill yourself) YOU CAN GO FUCKING DIE'' and even tho it's pretty aggressive and direct the remake was kinda more uhh how do i say this

here's the quote:

''YOU CAN GO FUCKING DIE (get cancer!)''

''GO FUCKING DIE (Get AIDS and...)''

''KILL YOURSELF AND GO DIE (kill yourself!)''

like man, she must be REALLY shitty

anywho

just thought the song was trashing non-existent person how's just a douchie but it wasn't until i read all the lyrics it was trashing a maybe maybe not existent person who's a DOUCHEBAG

[phospadparadscha]

Disco Universe Pale thoughts-

Instead of being the physical manifestation (de-manifestation?) of entropy, maybe the Pale is instead a phenomenon that causes rapid erosion. Gems without adequate protection are basically getting hit by the world's shittiest sandblaster. The effects are similar to canon Pale exposure, with the added bonus of visible damage. The Paledriver has nicks and scratches across her gem, while Joyce uses some sort of clear coating to obscure hers.

Of course, those lost bits of gem don't just evaporate, they join the rest of the dust making up the Pale. The Pale is mostly inert rock, but there's still a significant amount of gem dust in there. With enough exposure, a Gem can get so worn down they can no longer hold a form and are functionally indistinguishable from shattered gems. I.e., they're fuckin dead.

Harry's druzy damage is rare, because those colors are didn't come from nowhere; they're deposits from other Gems, and the conditions under which they formed wpild normally be lethal. It's why the Skills aren't really whole people; they're miniscule fragments of other Gems, joined together. Almost like the Cluster on a very small scale.

I really really really like this Blue. FIRST of all let me thank you for being so involved in this crossover with me and giving me the enthusiasm to keep illustrating and theorizing for it, it means a lot that you and others as into this as I am because I LOVE both of these medias so just a quick thank you lol. More of my answer below so I don't flood people's dashboards:

I was wracking my brain on how to incorporate the skills into this AU and what to do with the Pale, and for a while I had a vague sense of the pale being a cosmic phenomenon rather than limited to one planet like Elysium in the game. I go into some detail about that and the failed rebellion here.

I agree with you that the pale would be something that causes rapid erosion, and that gems need to prepare physically to protect themselves (like buffing or coating). However I disagree that the Pale wouldn't be psychological in origin still. Steven Universe is a very emotional and interpersonal exploration of characters and I do think that the entropy and psychological horror of the Pale and of fragmented gems can coexist very well in this crossover.

Gems develop listlessness in their stagnating and deteriorating society in Steven Universe and the depleting resources causing physical deformities in gems like peridot and amethyst requiring limb enhancers to accommodate them. I think this idea- of a government failing its people contributing to a miasma of hopelessness and deteriorating sense of self in and outside of the Pale- works very well within the context of both the game and the show, and is part of why I think this AU can work the way it does despite the show and game being wildly different in world building and tone.

Gems like Volleyball for example are what I think the result of Pale damage would be. Volleyball's eye is cracked on her projection. This is a result of the psychological damage to her gem from Pink Diamond's abuse. It cannot be repaired like other cracked gems- it is deeply embedded in her gem and the data that projects her. And when sufficiently stressed, it can even spread. I think this aspect of the Pale damage and rapid erosion you mention would work similarly. The Pale is psychological deterioration and torture. It erodes the sense of self, and the gems themselves in a very permanent way. It is a lot like a sandblaster, but not just for the gem- also for the gem's minds as well, a bit like Houseki no Kuni where if the gem loses its inclusions their memories are lost as well.

What I love MOST about this ask is the way you incorporate the gems as particle dust into Harry's Skills, or furies, or voices. They dust over Harry's gem and erode his own at the same time, in a way that removes a large chunk of his data (his memory and gem coloration / density / powers) and dusts it with the shattered remains of past gems as well. The only issue I see with this theory though is that Harry's skills have been with him since before his wipeout in Martinaise, and are part of why Dora left him and why he was known as a can-opener. So perhaps Harry has always been able to hear these voices on the wind somehow, and only after Martinaise did they nearly over write his own gem. This is one aspect of the theory that I am not sure how to proceed but I think definitely that the drusy formations on his gem being particles of gems lost in the Pale manifesting as his Skills makes a great deal of sense.

Anyways I'm sorry for the long ass response lol I just love this crossover and I'm really glad that it caught your attention Blue because you've brought so much to the table!!! If you ever have art requests or anything at all please let me know and feel free to spam me with ideas and messages bc I'm always on that damn phone lol.

[ask-me-about-therapy]

A Mind's-Eye View

Dear Diary,

Well, it's been yet another one of those delightfully disjointed days where reality decided to take a cappuccino break without me. I swear, one of these days I'll find the negligent barista who keeps unplugging my perspective from consensus reality and put them on a strict drip of decaf.

It all started this morning when I was brushing my teeth, gazing lazily into the mirror's reflection. Suddenly, something seemed…off. Like my face belonged to a vaguely familiar, but distinctly different person entirely. I quirked an eyebrow in that signature way I do and…nothing. No reaction. My facial pantomime skills were being sorely upstaged by an utterly indifferent spectator staring back through the looking glass.

At that point, I figured I must still be aimlessly somnambulating through the gauzy realm of dreamland. So I employed my trusty reality testing checklist: Pinch skin? Check - Felt that sting. Ask Alexa something only I would know? Check - My haunted virtual spirit guide confirmed my deepest persona non grata status. Okay, I was regrettably among the waking world, just…disconnected from the main stage somehow.

By lunchtime, my mind had taken its metaphysical troubeshow on a roving tour. One moment I was chopping veggies, the next my subconscious had astral projected me into observing some stranger's culinary chopping ennui from the foreground. A real out-of-jaw experience, let me tell you. When you're not all there, might as well make like aeball and split, am I right?

At least tonight's dissociative detour came with the upside of some much-needed psychic numbing while navigating my apartment's chaotic blackhole of entropy. Sifting through towers of sentient Point Dexter piled high and aimlessly pondering what plane of existence that shirt-turned-demi-lifeform may have originated from? Just another multidimensional mind shift for the folk over here.

But I've learned not to fight these fugue state fugitives too hard. Like a resigned ballet dancer, I just try to relax into the disassociated flow, appreciating it as a whimsical reprieve from the grounding of unified selfhood. A mental siesta of split perspectives, if you will. Though I could do without the stubborn psychological lMonoglorian rattling to rejoin the singular mind numberland.

In any case, I've accepted these are just more curious tracks on the winding album that is my deliciously dissociated life experience. Vintage vinyl episodes to savor and chuckle over before the next round of out-of-body riffing begins anew. At least my mindstream has some solid Spotify quality, diary! Who needs monotonous cohesion when you can masterfully shuffle between myriad headspace remixes at any given moment? Your pal has frontrow seating for an experimental existential concert, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

[muzzleroars]

What if anything would be able to calm your version of V1 down? Like if V2 just greeted and hugged it when they first met vs attacking it on site would it calm down even a little bit or is it always running at 200%?

hello it's time to talk about v1's psychology!!!

oooooh a good question...my idea of v1 is really centered on two things that define its character, which are war and errors. v1 is an intrinsically hostile being, built purely to engage in combat and given only the bare minimum of social protocols in order to not be completely unmanageable by humans. its default state is conflict, it chooses violence as its primary course of interaction, and i think its ai has determined the world is in a perpetual state of war which leads it to constantly be "on" - that is, it presupposes every encounter will be hostile and responds accordingly (which is continually reinforced since it's in hell lol).

HOWEVER...v1 is also incredibly intelligent and riddled with errors at this point, leading it to engage in a lot of behavior that's unnecessary or unrelated to its goal of "war" - it enjoys exploration, it's curious and wants to learn (i love the idea that it likes reading, but it still has an algorithm that cuts it off if the information isn't "pertinent". it hates this) and most importantly, it's able to learn and modify its behavior to a certain extent. one of the reasons it tends to be so hyper aggressive is because it's running on the idea that it's constantly engaged, it is currently in a war, and because it's been left to iterate on its own in a mind that was never properly limited due to its project being cancelled, it's become animal-like in its pursuit of prey. but, if it can be convinced another being is approaching it peacefully, it CAN switch over to its curious nature rather than its conflict nature. due to the reinforcement i mentioned, this can be difficult - it will continue to assume hostility due to previous encounters and the general bad vibes in hell, but it's not beyond reasoning and settling down.

this quieting is admittedly fragile - its social modules are weak and it has to dedicate much more processing power to simple communication than to the most sophisticated battle strategies, yet i think in all its vast intelligence, it suffers from loneliness and isolation. it is acutely aware of what it’s doing, even in its revelry and the reward it experiences at its mass destruction, it understands entropy, collapse, and the finite resource that is its fuel. but it cannot be conservative. to be conservative is contrary to its nature, to its runaway war programming. so while it stares into an ever-growing abyss of its own making, while existential anxiety suffocates it further and further by its own hand, it never slows its wanton killing, a part of it continues to to be uncaring, to be proud, to laugh at the infinite loss of life it’s causing. it exists in both spaces constantly, errored mind and corroded code internally tearing it in two...but if it can just be persuaded the battle isn’t here, not right now, even if there is a war outside it doesn’t exist in this moment, that constant, exhausting loop can be suspended for a time and that’s how it calms down. it will still be destructive, it will still be too hard and too fast, but it can be talked to and it can learn to interface in gentler ways. and its intelligence, its sophisticated and ever expanding mind still with those little social protocols, wants to be able to do this, wants to hold onto something that it won’t break and lose forever.

and this is another part of its tragedy because it can’t really start that process. it must engage in combat, it will always choose to attack before anything else BUT if its enemy survives that encounter it can create a connection. and being able to survive it is key because v1 requires violence in its relationships, it will need to fight and spar to properly connect with another being in between quieter moments because brutality is its paradigm. it’s still not an easy process, it’s constantly leaning toward harm, it doesn’t fully comprehend its more sentimental emotions and when it does, it can consider them dangerously corrupted code and attempt to block them because its system flags it as a fatal error...but it can, in spite of all the software put in place to keep it solitary, connect with others due in large part to the “errors” it’s accumulated. of course i think about this a lot in the context of its relationship with gabriel as it learns to be gentle with him and to want to be gentle with him (like i mentioned in some tags, it likes climbing on him in part because that’s its way of getting his attention without violent means) but i really do think v1 and v2 could have worked together. they would have an inherent understanding of one another due to being built on the same firmware and similar hardware, plus i think v2 could intuitively understand why v1 acts as it does. they have major differences, such as v2 being much more socially oriented and v1′s mind being left uncompleted, but they had the capacity to connect even if they would likely always be at least competitive. it could have been tempered into a rivalry rather than on sight death matches, but with the world so broken, with communication and cooperation long forgotten, v2 engaged with it on v1′s terms, on the principles of war every being now operates on.

and since war is intrinsic to v1′s existence, it has a constant upper hand

[shepherds-of-haven]

Because you talked about how being good at both shifting and wild magic is kind of like a good painter also being good at biology (not that those would be the equivalent subjects), I was wondering if you had roughly equivalent subjects in the real world for the types of magic? Also what kinds of people tend to be good at what types of magic? Thank you!

Hi, thanks for your question! I don't have a 1:1 equivalency for subjects in the real world versus magic, as I think the inherent experience of using magic is so different from real-world pursuits that it's hard to compare them! But I have noticed that I definitely think of arcane magic as more mathematically-inclined or more scientific-minded, with Shifting requiring a knowledge of molecular science and biology, Binding definitely seeming more like engineering and programming (with more chemistry if you're an Alchemyst), and Conjuration somewhat involving more math and calculation aspects? Whereas I feel like psionic magic requires opening yourself to the outside world in a way that I've sometimes heard of the arts being talked about, sort of like how artists in the late 1800s/early 1900s thought themselves to be "channelers" who would open themselves up the spiritual or psychic world in order to paint, or how a writer makes themselves free and pliant for inspiration or "the muse" to take over, or how a pianist lets the music flow through them in order to play? So in that way I think Divination can sort of be akin to painting or the arts, where you let the vision come to you while still being focused and searching for it, if that makes any sense at all... And Enchanting and Wild Mage are sort of like that, too, opening yourself up to these outside forces and intelligences, but I'd say Enchanting is also along the lines of psychology and speech/debate with sprinklings of social sciences like anthropology, and Wild Magic is influenced by animal behavioralism and zoology as well! Astral magic seems very kinetic to me and doesn't have a straightforward equivalency other than being very in-tune with the external world, its forces, and its energies: obviously battle magic involves athleticism, combat, physics, and kinetics; healing involves anatomy and medicine and all its many branches; and and elementalism has always had a flavor of meditation and spirituality to it, at least to me, since it heavily involves being aware and making use of the interconnectedness of the world and its elements; though of course you could argue it also has flavors of more kinetic "sleeves in the mud" physical activities, maybe like gardening, hunting, fishing, swimming, metalsmithing, knitting, building, woodwork, or even to an extent cooking or baking, or where you have to become one with the thing you’re doing, in a certain sense; labor-intensive science like geology or botany; while mixed with more cerebral sciences like thermodynamics, meteorology, entropy, and physics!

...So to break it down, as I said, there's no simple 1:1 magic-to-real-life study, since I think the different types of magic involve so many different elements and aspects and are so foreign to our reality that it's hard to compare, especially in a straightforward, clean-cut way. 😅 But I'd maybe think people who tend to be more mathematic, logic-based, or scientifically or engineering-inclined tend to be drawn to the school of arcane magic; people who tend to be more creative or artistic might (?) be stronger or more at ease in psionic magic; and people who are more kinetic or physical could be more astral (?). But definitely take that with a huge grain of salt; I don't really think of them in this way when I'm writing, so this is not something that's set in stone! Like, I don't think of Idalia (who's talented in Battle Magic, Healing, and Elementalism) as a particularly "physical" person, and I don't think of Isodel (who's talented in Wild Magic and Shifting) to be both "artistic" and "science-y", so these distinctions probably don't mean anything at all--they're just different subjects you can be good in, I guess lol! Because the type of magic you specialize in doesn't often dictate what kind of hobbies you're into or your strength in other non-magic areas, so I don't think it really has a strong correlation. :) So maybe even discount everything I just said. XD Hope that all makes sense though!

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 26, 2023

Saturation of visual responses explains size tuning in rat collicular neurons. Baranauskas, G., Rysevaite‐Kyguoliene, K., Sabeckis, I., & Pauza, D. H. (2023). European Journal of Neuroscience, 57(2), 285–309.

Reconstruction of sparse recurrent connectivity and inputs from the nonlinear dynamics of neuronal networks. Barranca, V. J. (2023). Journal of Computational Neuroscience, 51(1), 43–58.

Population codes enable learning from few examples by shaping inductive bias. Bordelon, B., & Pehlevan, C. (2022). eLife, 11, e78606.

Cerebro-cerebellar networks facilitate learning through feedback decoupling. Boven, E., Pemberton, J., Chadderton, P., Apps, R., & Costa, R. P. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 51.

The role of the lateral orbitofrontal cortex in creating cognitive maps. Costa, K. M., Scholz, R., Lloyd, K., Moreno-Castilla, P., Gardner, M. P. H., Dayan, P., & Schoenbaum, G. (2023). Nature Neuroscience, 26, 107–115.

Functional geometry of the cortex encodes dimensions of consciousness. Huang, Z., Mashour, G. A., & Hudetz, A. G. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 72.

Optimal Control Costs of Brain State Transitions in Linear Stochastic Systems. Kamiya, S., Kawakita, G., Sasai, S., Kitazono, J., & Oizumi, M. (2023). Journal of Neuroscience, 43(2), 270–281.

Do cognitive and physical effort costs affect choice behavior similarly? Lim, L. X., Fansher, M., & Hélie, S. (2023). Journal of Mathematical Psychology, 112, 102727.

Deciphering functional roles of synaptic plasticity and intrinsic neural firing in developing mouse visual cortex layer IV microcircuit. Liu, S., & Li, Y. (2023). Journal of Computational Neuroscience, 51(1), 23–42.

Arithmetic value representation for hierarchical behavior composition. Makino, H. (2023). Nature Neuroscience, 26, 140–149.

Altered integration of excitatory inputs onto the basal dendrites of layer 5 pyramidal neurons in a mouse model of Fragile X syndrome. Mitchell, D. E., Miranda-Rottmann, S., Blanchard, M., & Araya, R. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(2), e2208963120.

Introducing the Dendrify framework for incorporating dendrites to spiking neural networks. Pagkalos, M., Chavlis, S., & Poirazi, P. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 131.

A statistical foundation for derived attention. Paskewitz, S., & Jones, M. (2023). Journal of Mathematical Psychology, 112, 102728.

Rapid synaptic and gamma rhythm signature of mouse critical period plasticity. Quast, K. B., Reh, R. K., Caiati, M. D., Kopell, N., McCarthy, M. M., & Hensch, T. K. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(2), e2123182120.

Lingering Neural Representations of Past Task Features Adversely Affect Future Behavior. Rangel, B. O., Hazeltine, E., & Wessel, J. R. (2023). Journal of Neuroscience, 43(2), 282–292.

Evidence for entropy maximisation in human free choice behaviour. Rens, N., Lancia, G. L., Eluchans, M., Schwartenbeck, P., Cunnington, R., & Pezzulo, G. (2023). Cognition, 232, 105328.

Choice selective inhibition drives stability and competition in decision circuits. Roach, J. P., Churchland, A. K., & Engel, T. A. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 147.

Information-processing dynamics in neural networks of macaque cerebral cortex reflect cognitive state and behavior. Varley, T. F., Sporns, O., Schaffelhofer, S., Scherberger, H., & Dann, B. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(2), e2207677120.

Transformation of acoustic information to sensory decision variables in the parietal cortex. Yao, J. D., Zemlianova, K. O., Hocker, D. L., Savin, C., Constantinople, C. M., Chung, S., & Sanes, D. H. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(2), e2212120120.

Hippocampal spatial representations exhibit a hyperbolic geometry that expands with experience. Zhang, H., Rich, P. D., Lee, A. K., & Sharpee, T. O. (2023). Nature Neuroscience, 26, 131–139.