Welcome to my side blog! It's a very casual space, I created it just so I can rant about LaDS and reblog all I want. Maybe one day I'll start posting some ff too :) Sylus is my hubby, that's all. Have fun!
Maybe start reading idiot motherfucker mc says she and caleb are blood related siblings, there's literal incest ingame now
Gege miemie defenders like you still cant explain why she doesnt call zayne gege then. And also the translation is not done literally from chinese to english retard, they are not idiots, they have a full seperate english team. As a chinese person who knows english and haas compared dialogues, I can read aand comprehend unlike you that the translation is not done literally word to word, it changes where it's needed.
I shouldn't even answer to you because the way you talk lacks politeness and grammar (were you foaming at the mouth while writing...?), but I'll do it for the sake of pillorying you and your vulgar aggressiveness.
If you knew the basics of reading comprehension, you'd understand I've been saying their relationship is incestuous way before the release of these cards, way before they explicitly called each other brother and sister in the new event and cards. I do NOT defend people who insist that gege isn't used as a brotherly term, because I'm the first who can't stand the purposeful ignorance on this subject. (If that's what you're attacking me for? I don't understand what you said after a certain point lol)
The Devs want them to have a struggle with sibling-like dynamics in their relationship, and as much as it bothers me because it's a peculiar trope that doesn't fit my tastes, I also understand they're trying to convey Caleb's feeling of responsibility towards MC, which forced him into a protective, brotherly role.
I don't like it, but I won't start preaching about whether it's right or not because I don't care enough to be the moral arbiter. All I said was that I've always known this was the subtext of their relationship and people denied blindly.
If you bother me again, I won't answer to you, I've wasted enough time with this one post <3
Picked up LaDS after months of burnout and generally losing interest, only to be jumpscared by Caleb openly calling MC "sister" in the new event LMAOOO. This is for all the people who were in denial and like "noo but Chinese word gege isn't inherently used for brothers!! You're seeing things!! You're gross for seeing the incest!!".
I'm not attacking people who hate incest, because I personally hate this setup too, but 90% of the posts I saw back then were straight up denial. And even if you didn't outright defend incest but tried to explain that yes, the relationship is based on sibling dynamics, you weren't taken seriously. Everyone used the excuse that Chinese is ambiguous and that you were problematic for seeing incest, even when certain Chinese sentences clearly referred to that (we're not talking about simple terms of endearment like gege, there was a whole context there).
Well, too bad I remember that at the start of the game MC explicitly says "brother" when referring to Caleb. I know for sure because my first thought was like "wow, first time I play an otome and the MC has a brother that's a big part of the story". To me, they looked alike too (because of the hair colour, that's all), so I was 100% sure he was just MC's brother and had no idea he was meant to be a future LI. The game made me think they were siblings, it told me.
And now we're finally getting it in big bold letters: brother and sister.
I'm sorry for all the people who ignored it like me and now have it slammed in their faces. Headcanonning they're childhood friends was easy because they rarely said anything explicitly in the English translation, but god does it feel good to know I was right all along.
Edit: btw, I want to make one thing clear: I talk about incest but the relationship between Caleb and MC is much more complicated than that. What permeates from the narrative (especially with Chinese dialogues) is that Caleb took on a brotherly role mostly because he felt responsible for MC's safety, denying his growing feelings just like she did. What I got is that they're stuck in family roles that don't belong to them (because they're in love).
HOWEVER, I still feel like addressing it as incestuous because, idk about y'all, if I grew up in the same house with my grandma and a boy around my age ever since we were kids I'd see him as a relative rather than a friend. I don't think it's much of a natural evolution of their relationship, in my personal opinion and based on my cultural standards.
All this just to clarify that I'm not interested in going to war to either defend or attack their relationship, I just want to point out what's already there: a complicated and, at least for me, forced "siblings" to lovers romance (?)
Sylus would 100% be freaking out internally every time you do something even mildly flirty in his midst. You could even be doing some of the most basic things around the N109 zone, simply walking around his mansion with his shirt on and his brain would just short circuit while he gives you a carefully crafted snarky response. His internal monologue would simply be “oh my god she’s my girlfriend and she doesn’t even know it yet. Is she doing this on purpose? Does she know what she’s doing to me?”
This man is absolutely horrendously down bad and pathetic and we love him for it. Watching you fall asleep in his clothes, in his bed and in his mansion would simply do irreversible damage to his poor dragon heart, because his hunter finally feels comfortable being around him.
It was a headache at first. And then the itching—oh the itching! She clawed at her head relentlessly, to no avail. Something other than relief sprouted beneath her fingertips.
But her pain was soothed instead of scorned, her horns met with kindness instead of a knife.
synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.
tags/warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies, credit to @/haven__ly on x for the middle pic, mdni
chapter summary. ┆ caleb tries to adapt to his newfound role as the web-slinging hero of linkon city, and you receive the opportunity of a lifetime.
chapter warnings. ┆ slightly sexually suggestive content and a little bit of bodily harm…… but nothing too crazy i swear!
prev: too easy, this game. ┆ series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!
“Aw, come on. Again?”
Caleb feels like he’s been at this for hours. Realistically, it’s been four minutes—maybe five—but time stretches a bit slower when all you do is fail.
He straightens up, tugging at the red ski mask that clings to his face. Despite the crisp morning air, the layers he’s wearing are doing him no favors. The mask in particular is itchy, tight, and, if he’s being honest, suffocating. Maybe you were right—maybe he did have big head syndrome.
But he pushes that thought aside, rolling his shoulders back and planting his feet firmly against the rooftop. With careful precision, he flicks his wrist toward the corner of Mama Louisa’s Pastry Shop—a well-loved business by both himself and every other Linkon University student running on caffeine and sugar. Hopefully she won’t mind him using her bakery as a makeshift training ground.
He tenses his wrist again, and finally—finally—a strand of silk shoots from his pulse point… only for a gentle breeze to carry it away like it’s nothing more than stray thread from a sweater.
Caleb exhales sharply through his nose. Okay. That’s fine. Progress is progress.
He tries again. Fails again, too.
But then, on his next attempt, something changes. He can feel it. A flick of his wrist, the perfect angle with just the right amount of tension.
Thwip!
The web sticks, thick and sturdy like the ones he’d shot in his dorm room, right against the bakery’s awning.
Caleb grins so wide it could rival the Empire State Building. He doesn’t fully understand why this is happening—these heightened senses, the silk-slinging, the unnatural strength—but if his research means anything, it all traces back to the spider bite in the university lab. Probably. If he were to be honest, it’s more of an educated guess for the moment.
Without thinking twice, he sprints forward and leaps from the rooftop. In hindsight, thinking twice might’ve been a good idea, because when he goes to shoot another web at the next building, his aim is—how should he put this?—gods awful.
The silk completely misses its mark, latching onto a birch tree instead. And before Caleb can course-correct, he goes slamming into it face-first.
BAM!
Leaves rustle. Branches snap. Somewhere, a pigeon squawks in alarm, and it might be simultaneously scolding Caleb in a language he can’t understand.
He groans, peeling himself away from the tree trunk, only to find himself tangled in a mess of twigs and leaves.
“Mister!”
He blinks, his brain still rattled from the impact.
“Mister! Down here!”
It takes a second for his senses to recalibrate, but once they do, he follows the tiny voice downward until his gaze lands on a little girl standing at the tree’s base. She looks no older than five, her curly hair swallowing her small face as the wind ruffles through it. Despite her tiny stature, she stands with her hands on her hips, staring up at him with a look of determination.
She points upward. “Can you get Mr. Pickles? He’s scared of heights.”
Caleb blinks again, squinting in the direction of her tiny finger.
And there, perched precariously on a flimsy branch, is a scrawny grey cat.
“Mr. Pickles?” he mutters, already moving before he can think twice. (And this time, that was a good thing.)
His fingers stick effortlessly to the tree bark as he climbs, his static cling allowing him to crawl along the surface like he was made for this. He scales the trunk with ease, reaching the trembling feline in a matter of seconds.
“Here, kitty kitty,” he coos, slowly wrapping an arm around the cat and tucking him securely against his chest. “You’re alright. No need to be scared now.”
Once he makes his way back down, he lands gracefully on his feet, adjusting the cat in his arms before handing him off.
The little girl grins, cradling Mr. Pickles like he’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, mister!”
Caleb smiles. “No problem, sweetheart.”
She beams up at him before dashing back toward a nearby apartment building. “I’ll give Mr. Pickles a hug for you!”
“Make it extra warm for me, yeah?”
“Okay!”
And just like that, she’s gone, disappearing behind the lobby doors with her newly rescued companion.
The air is cold, the streets quiet. No sirens, which was a luxury these days. The perfect time for a peaceful stroll.
Or, in Caleb’s case, the perfect time to fail at web-slinging.
That was fine, though. No one saw.
Except for a small child who owned a runaway cat.
Caleb walks down the sidewalk in an attempt to forget about the embarrassment of the moment, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie, the ski mask still clinging uncomfortably to his face. The whole city feels half-asleep, barely stirring under the early sun, and for once, Caleb lets himself enjoy it. Well, as much as he possibly can enjoy something after a morning of throwing himself at trees and towards buildings.
“Excuse me, young man?”
Caleb halts, turning to find an elderly woman peering up at him through thick-framed glasses, her wrinkled face pulled into a look of concern. She clutches a tote bag to her side, a plaid scarf wrapped neatly around her hair.
“I just saw you help that young girl, and I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest dry cleaners,” she asks, adjusting her grip on the bag. “I swear, my memory is getting worse by the day. It’s around here somewhere, I just can’t seem to—”
“Oh, yeah, it’s just a few blocks down,” he gently interrupts, gesturing toward the street corner. “Take a left at the bakery right over there and then it’s right past the old bookstore. Can’t miss it, I promise.”
The woman sighs in relief. “Oh, you’re an angel, thank you! I was walking in the wrong direction for who knows how long.”
Caleb chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Happens to the best of us.”
“I hope you have a wonderful day, sweetheart,” she says, already turning to go in the direction he’d gestured to.
He offers a charming smile that reaches his eyes. “You too, ma’am.”
And with that, he continues down the sidewalk, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s funny, really. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but he actually enjoys this aspect of his new predicament more than he originally anticipated. Helping people, even if it’s just with the small stuff. Before, it seemed like those opportunities were fleeting, and now, they laid around him in abundance.
Then, just as he’s about to take a right onto the next block…
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!
His head snaps toward the alleyway up ahead. A car alarm wails through the narrow space between buildings, the sharp noise sending a jolt of electricity straight down his spine.
And before he can think—before he can even process what was going on—his legs are already moving. Maybe that was a new impulse that the spider bite had brought upon him, too.
He sprints into the alley, heart hammering wildly in his chest, and that’s when he sees him.
A man hunched over the driver’s side door of an old blue sedan, hands fumbling with a crowbar against the handle. He’s working fast—too fast and too irresponsibly—not even sparing a glance over his shoulder as the alarm screeches on.
Caleb doesn’t hesitate. His wrist flicks.
Thwip!
The web shoots out before he even registers it happening, sticking clean onto the man’s hand… and the door handle he was prying open.
“What the—”
The guy jerks back instinctively, only to realize that his hand isn’t going anywhere.
Caleb halts to a stop a few feet away, breathing hard, adrenaline singing through his veins.
Sirens wail in the distance, he then realizes.
The thief panics, tugging at his hand with increasing desperation. “What the hell? Get this off me, man! What is this—glue?”
Caleb tilts his head, taking a slow step forward. “Tch. What glue do you know that looks like that? You’ve got the mind of a real scholar, you know. Ever thought about givin’ up grand theft auto for Harvard?”
The sirens grow louder.
The man flails now, yanking at his wrist, his feet slipping against the pavement. “C’mon, man, you gotta— you gotta help me out here.”
“Yeah, see, I don’t think I do,” Caleb muses, his heartbeat finally slowing to something steady, something that was almost calm.
“What are you? A cop?”
Caleb tilts his head. Even through the mask, his deadpan is palpable. “Really, man?” he drawls. “You think I’m a cop?”
The thief scoffs, loud and hard, shaking his head like Caleb is the idiot here. “Tch. Whatever.”
Then, his free hand vanishes into his coat. When it returns to his line of sight, a blade flashes before he even has time to blink. “Don’t make me use this, kid.”
A knife. A whole kitchen knife. Serrated edges, too. Probably stolen. Probably dirty. Probably the worst attempt at a threat that he has ever seen in his entire life.
Caleb gasps. Theatrically. He drops straight to his knees, too, his arms flying up over his head in a show of fake panic. “A kitchen knife? No! No, please spare me!”
The guy nods. “Yeah, that’s right. Just let me go, and—”
Thwip!
The thief jerks, eyes so wide they nearly bulge out of his skull.
And just like that, his mouth is gone.
Well. Not gone, gone. Just… thoroughly webbed shut.
“Mmph! Mm— mmph!”
Caleb straightens up, resting his hands on his hips as he tilts his head, a layer of faux sympathy dripping from his voice. “Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t quite catch it.”
The guy flails once more.
Useless. Helpless. Pathetic.
So pathetic that it almost makes Caleb feel bad. Almost.
Then the sirens return. They’re more persistent now. Louder. Closer.
Flashing red and blue swallow the alley, bouncing off the walls like stage lights for the thief’s almost-perfect crime.
The man whips his head toward them. Caleb follows his gaze, then hums, turning back with a single gloved finger pressed over his own masked mouth.
“Sh.”
He disappears before the first cop even steps out of the car, and as he whisks into the city, slipping between alleyways, a single thought loops through his mind.
He can do something with this.
Like—really do something.
Not just helping lost grandmas and rescuing stranded cats.
But this…
This was something that went far beyond what the Linkon PD was capable of: stopping the bad guys before they got away.
And now, he swings with a newfound ease, a confidence that wasn’t there before, flipping between buildings, twisting through the bright glow of billboards. Caleb finally gets it. The mechanics, the rhythm, the thrill of it. The way the city unfolds before him like a playground of concrete and steel.
Beneath him, people point. People cheer. People wonder.
But one man does not wonder.
One man knows.
That man stands just outside a quiet café, his untouched tea steaming in his hands, his sharp gaze never leaving the sky. He was on his way toward the Oscorp building in the distance, his badge reading Dr. Curtis Conners — Head Biologist.
Unlike the others, he does not gape. He does not cheer.
He only watches.
His glasses slip down his nose as he tilts his head, following the figure’s trajectory with a stare so focused and precise it could slice through bone. His mind moves faster than his pulse. Not a suit. Not a rig. Not a device. No, no—it’s organic. The silk isn’t shot from him. It belongs to him.
His fingers twitch.
Click.
The photo is grainy due to the shakiness of his grip, but the silhouette is unmistakable.
Curtis Connors exhales slowly through his nose, fingers already moving, already typing, already sending. His recipients were none other than the student team who wrote for the medical journalism column in the Linkon University Chronicle.
Curtis Connors: [image attachment]
Find out as much info as you can on this figure.
He watches the message send. Then, he watches as this figure, as blissfully unaware as can be, swings off into the sky—free and untouchable.
For now.
♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎
Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but you don’t have half the mind to reach for it—not when a sea of sorority girls is already waving you down with welcoming smiles and outstretched arms.
“Tara!” you greet, barely getting the word out before she yanks you into a bear hug that nearly knocks the wind out of you.
“You came!” she squeals. “I totally thought you were gonna back out at the last minute.”
“How could I?” you reply, returning the hug before reaching for Cleo, who wraps her arms around you like she hasn’t seen you in years. “I made a commitment. I had to follow through, even if midterms are coming for my throat and I haven’t touched my biology flashcards in, like… two weeks.”
Tara laughs, shaking her head. “You worry too much. Just relax, have some fun. You deserve it.” Then, she leans in conspiratorially, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Plus… he who shall not be named isn’t even here. I think he bailed. You might actually be Caleb-free today.”
Your eyes widen with a gleam that could outshine a kid in a candy store. A sunny afternoon with your friends? Caleb-free? Total score.
“I love your suit!” Cleo chirps, dragging your attention back to Earth. Her fingers lightly trace the hem of your bikini top. “It suits your skin tone so well. Where’d you get it?”
You glance toward the sky like the clouds might give you your memory back. “Uh… probably Target? Like, two years ago?”
“Well, I’m definitely raiding the swimwear section before Spring Break,” she laughs, handing you a half-full bucket of water. She pauses for a moment, then adds with a grin, “I mean seriously—that top is really working for you.”
You laugh, awkwardly tucking the large bucket against your torso. “Thanks. I thought it might’ve been… too much,” you say, gesturing a hand over your chest.
“No, no!” Tara interjects immediately, hands flying into the air like she’s warding off some curse. “It’s the perfect amount of boobage.”
You eyebrows raise. “You think so?”
“I know so,” she says with full confidence.
Before you can say much at all, Cleo’s voice cuts in like a bullet. “Looks like someone else thinks so too.”
“Someone else? Who…?”
But you don’t finish. Your voice trails off the second your eyes follow her pointed gaze.
Across the lot. Lambda Chi Alpha’s side. Shirtless guys joking and slinging sudsy water at each other like they're in a beer commercial. But your gaze settles on one in particular.
Caleb.
Shirt off. Abs fully present and accounted for—all eight of them, you made sure to count. Somehow looking even better than he did a few days ago, which is rude. Biceps glistening from the sun and suds. Hair a mess in the best possible way. And those arms—Gods, those arms should be studied in a lab.
“Yoohoo?” Tara sings, tapping your forehead like she’s knocking on a front door.
You blink, snapping out of your trance. “What?”
Tara and Cleo exchange an all-knowing look.
“I thought you didn’t want to see Caleb today,” Tara says with a lopsided smile.
“I don’t.”
“And yet…” Cleo gestures broadly, “there you were. Gawking.”
You scoff. “I can dislike someone and still objectively—totally objectively—acknowledge that they might not be the most hideous person to walk the Earth.”
Cleo hums. “Uh-huh. Totally objective.”
“It is an objective observation!”
“Sure, sure,” Tara teases. “Just science. A visual data analysis of muscle definition.”
You sigh, pointing at her. “Exactly.”
. . .
Caleb isn’t faring much better.
In fact, he’s doing worse. A lot worse.
He tries to apply logic to the situation. To rationalize the incredibly logicless mess he has found himself in.
It must be his new senses—yeah, that has to be it. His body adjusting, his nervous system overcompensating, deciding that now, of all godforsaken times, would be a great moment to send every ounce of blood in his body to a very unhelpful location.
His eyes widen, panic rising in his chest.
No. No, no, no. This is not happening.
Almost instinctively, he wrenches himself away from your general direction, physically turning his body like that alone will make his predicament less of a predicament.
It’s not his fault.
Seriously. It’s not.
No amount of superability could ever counteract the very human reality that, at the end of the day, Caleb Xia is just a man.
A man with… an appreciation for certain assets.
And today, his attention seems to have locked onto yours in particular.
Now isn’t the time for this. There would never be a time for this. He feels horrible, like a pathetic schoolboy with zero control over his own body.
Somewhere in his haze of absolute distress, his dog tag ends up wedged between his teeth, because apparently, his body has decided that biting metal is his last line of defense against catastrophic embarrassment.
Gran naked. Gran naked. Gran naked.
He squeezes his eyes shut, practically chanting the words in his head to paint a better picture like a desperate exorcism.
Gran naked. Gran naked. Gran na—
“You’re going to ruin those if you bite on them any harder.”
Caleb’s entire brain short-circuits.
His eyes snap open, locking onto yours. You’re standing there, bucket in your arms, tilting your head at him like he’s some kind of science experiment gone wrong.
He is barely keeping himself together.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
But then, you pout.
“Go on, boy,” you tease, voice dangerously sweet, mockingly condescending, like you’re talking to a dog. “Drop ‘em.”
His entire soul leaves his body. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he finally drops the dog tag from his teeth.
You beam at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair like he actually is a well-trained mutt. “Good boy!”
Caleb scoffs, swatting your hand away. “Shut up.”
You laugh, and he hates how much he likes the sound of it.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” you grin, reaching into the bucket. “Here’s your treat.”
Before he can react, a water-soaked sponge lands smack against his chest with a loud slap.
“You’re the worst,” he grumbles, peeling the sponge off as you shut off the hose and hoist your bucket back into your arms.
“Sure I am,” you chirp. “Good luck, waterboy.”
Caleb huffs, his head snapping up as you begin to walk past him. “The newbie is callin’ me a waterboy? Who brought in the most customers last year again?”
“Blah, blah, blah,” you say through a sigh, waving him off. “Who cares about last year?”
He’s about to counter—because he cares, and his title as reigning champ of the car wash must be defended at all costs—but then, you stop right beside him.
And for the love of all things holy, the air thickens.
You turn slightly, tilting your chin, that same smug glint in your eyes. “I, for one, certainly don’t care about last year. You’ll have to work harder this time around, anyway.”
Caleb narrows his eyes. “Why’s that?”
You don’t answer verbally. With a small sway of your fingers toward the parking lot, you point his attention elsewhere. Delta Gamma’s station currently had a long, ever-growing line of cars. A parade of eager customers at your fingertips.
Caleb exhales slowly. “Ah.”
“Mm-hmm,” you hum knowingly.
And then—you look him over.
Like blatantly look him over. Up. Down. Unrushed. Deliberate. Unfair.
And then, just like that, you pivot on your heel. “Gotta go.”
Before you can fully escape, his hand catches your wrist.
“Hey, hey, hey— not so fast,” he murmurs, voice dropping just slightly. Just enough. “If you’re so confident… maybe we should bet on it.”
You stop and turn back toward him. There’s a competitive glint in your eye. It’s exciting.
And unfortunately, it’s doing nothing to help with the currently unsolved issue in his shorts.
“Alright.” It takes zero hesitation. The opportunity to publicly defeat Caleb Xia is simply too good to pass up. “You’re on.”
His lips curl into an almost-there smile. “Terms?”
Your smile should be legally registered as a deadly weapon. “Loser has to wash the winner’s car… and purposely take a B- on the next lab report.”
Caleb lifts a brow. “You don’t have much to lose.”
You shrug, all casual, all effortless charm, and it’s killing him.
“Nope,” you reply smoothly. “I have everything to gain.”
Caleb should be fighting for his life against whatever spell you’ve just cast over him.
Instead, he falls for it.
(Hook. Line. Sinker.)
“Fine,” he says, sliding his hold from your wrist to your palm, giving your hand a firm shake—his fingers lingering just a little too long against yours.
“You’re on.”
. . .
Caleb should have really thought this through.
But instead, he let you get under his skin, let your smug little grin trick him into underestimating you.
Big mistake, because not even five minutes in, the Delta Gamma girls are practically drowning in customers, and Caleb has barely started scrubbing down his first car.
Caleb squints in your direction. This is not fair.
It feels like only ten minutes pass by before he looks in your direction again, and this time, he finds himself sweating.
Partially from the sun, partially from watching you rinse off a car with zero mercy—your movements way too efficient for someone who supposedly hasn’t done this sort of thing before.
And still, he refuses to lose. He has to switch tactics.
If charm is your secret weapon, then it can be his too. It was his before it was yours, anyway.
He yawns, stretching his arms just enough to get the attention of a group of girls suspiciously and slowly passing by in a yellow slugbug.
"Hey," he greets, sending a smile their way as he leans against the car, muscles flexing just right. "Need a wash?"
And to no one’s surprise but your own, it works.
Unfortunately, by the time the car wash ends, the results are as clear as day—you won.
And now, here Caleb stood—arms crossed, lips pressed into a firm line, trying to accept his defeat.
“So,” he exhales, dragging a hand down his face, "when am I washing your car?"
Your grin turns dangerously smug. "Oh, I don’t have a car."
Caleb stares at you like his brain needs a full reboot to comprehend what you just said.
"Sneaky."
You shrug. "I prefer genius."
"Not cool." Caleb shakes his head, his hands going to his hips. "I don’t like havin’ unpaid debts."
"Well…" You rock back on your heels, tilting your head at him. "Maybe you can get creative. Find a new way to pay up."
Caleb arches a brow. "Like?"
You hum, tapping your chin like you’re actually putting serious thought into it. "Hm… bring me coffee from the café every time we have a lecture."
Caleb scoffs. "You're joking."
"I'm not."
He lets out a long, drawn out sigh. "Fine."
♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎
Caleb knew as well as anyone that crime woke up when the city went to sleep.
So tonight, he stayed up to witness it. Maybe he’d do something good for the city. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he had to try. He had to.
It felt like something was calling to him, something so instinctive and certain that he couldn’t help but listen.
That was how he found himself here, sprawled across the roof of a liquor store, killing time with a game that had no winner. He flicked a pebble toward the ledge, watching as it bounced back near his hand. Again. Again. Anything to keep himself occupied while he listened for any sounds of trouble.
The bell of the liquor store’s entrance rang, and the sudden noise jolted through him, causing his grip to slip. Instead of hitting the ledge, the pebble sailed clean over the rooftop.
“Ouch!”
Caleb froze, and then scrambled to the edge of the roof, yanking his ski mask into place. He peered over the ledge, pulse spiking.
And when he saw who he’d just pelted in the head with a rock, he really should have expected it.
You.
Of course it was you, because why wouldn’t it be?
He watched as you winced, rubbing at the spot where the pebble had struck. You glanced around but, not seeing anyone, just sighed and continued down the sidewalk, bag of groceries clenched in your hand.
And as you walked, Caleb noticed a few things.
The way your pace sped up near the alleys. The way you slowed when you passed under a streetlamp, lingering just a second longer in the light. The way your fingers curled a little tighter around the grocery bag.
You were afraid, and he could understand why.
This wasn’t the best part of the city. It was dark and lonesome, a breeding ground for all things dangerous.
So, without much thinking—without even giving himself the chance to talk himself out of it—he decided to make sure you got home safe.
For purely vigilante reasons, of course.
. . .
You swear you’re not crazy, but someone is definitely following you.
The almost silent breathing. The faint but deliberate footsteps against pavement.
You pick up your pace, but curiosity is a terrible thing, and despite your better judgment, you glance over your shoulder.
And there he is.
A shadow perched on the edge of a rooftop. Watching.
Your heart stutters.
What the hell? Was he… doing parkour? You huff, shaking your head. Not important.
Your pulse spikes, and your body reacts before your mind does. You do the only logical thing you can think of: you bolt.
Your bag slips from your grip, but you don’t have time to care. Every survival instinct you’ve ever had is screaming at you to run.
Like clockwork, the footsteps behind you quicken.
A voice speaks up. “Hey, you dropped your—“
Shrieking, you whip around mid-sprint, finger already slamming down on the trigger of your pepper spray.
The man barely has time to react. He coughs and chokes, stumbling backward like he just got decked in the face. Your groceries fly through the air as he flails, practically throwing them back at you in the process.
“What—” he wheezes, hands clutching his eyes as he coughs again. “What was that for?”
“You…” your breath is coming out in sharp gasps as you clutch the pepper spray tighter. “You were following me!”
He tries to open his eyes, then immediately winces. “I was making sure you got back to campus okay!”
You take a step back, grip still firm around the bottle. “Well… well why the hell did you start running after me when I ran, huh?”
“You dropped your groceries!”
You hesitate because he sounds genuinely frustrated. “Well… don’t do that again, you freak! Don’t you know you shouldn’t follow people home?”
“I wasn’t— I mean, I was, but not for any reason you might be thinking of,” he stammers.
There’s an awkward beat as he forces himself to stand upright again, shoulders tense. Then, as if realizing how bad this looks, he raises his hands in surrender.
“I mean no harm,” he says. And despite everything, he sounds sincere. “This is just… kinda what I do now. I’m looking out for the people of the city.”
You exhale sharply. Then, after a beat, your free hand dips into your grocery bag.
You pull out a bottle of water and toss it to him.
“You should really work on your methods, Spider-Man,” you mutter, shaking your head as your gaze falls down to the spider design on his sweatshirt. As you turn away, you add, "Rinse your eyes. It’ll help."
Your heart is still hammering in your chest as you begin to walk away, but you manage to steady your breathing as you near the dorms. Your mind, however, is still racing.
Because the moment you calm down enough to think, a realization hits you.
The image. The blurry, low-resolution shot that Dr. Curtis Connors sent your group just days ago. The figure looked identical to the man you just encountered. The one he wanted to know more about.
Your stomach drops, and you whirl around, phone in hand with your camera ready. Much to your dismay, the figure is already gone. He has vanished into thin air without leaving so much as a single trace.
You curse under your breath, fingers flying over your phone screen as you open up the message thread.
You: I have a lead. I just ran into him. I think he’s a student at Linkon University.
series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!
a/n hi guys :P…. sorry i didn’t update for awhile buuuut here’s chapter 3!!! i wrote and edited some of this chapter with a 103 F fever so… if it’s ineligible at any point that might be why. i’d love to know your thoughts so please share them !!! <3
also i just wanted to say that i love all of the comments and messages you guys send into my asks :,) this made me laugh so i really hurried to get this chapter out
The fact that this just confirms that there was NO NEED for them to fade out the Beyond Cloudfall kiss makes me so...
Like wdym Sylus waited SIX MONTHS for a FADE TO BLACK KISS that technically wasn't even real but a shared dream between him and MC????
I don't ever wanna hear the "Sylus is new" argument again cuz it was always bullshit and now this further solidifies it.
PAPERFOLD YOU WILL CATCH THESE HANDS
Them treating Sylus and his mains unfairly time and time again is so frustrating and just sad tbh. Especially considering how much money, and how many new players Sylus has pulled — and still keeps pulling — in. At the time of writing this, he is the most profitable character in the game. And the most well known outside the sphere of the fandom. This is not me being biased, it's just fact.
Please don't take this as me hating on any of the LIs or their mains. I have nothing against either. In fact, I like the other LIs. They're all great characters. No, my frustration is directed solely at Paperfold and at the way they continually mistreat Sylus, his team, and his mains.
It's all just very upsetting.
They better cough up that missing content soon or istg I'm going down there myself...
Let's talk about the fact that Sylus, who has a huge collection of various weapons, who has many of armories, fights... with fists (and feet too( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))
That is, he literally has guns hanging on the wall at home, but he doesn’t use them (here and there it occasionally flashes that he used this or that gun, but this is more the exception than the rule).
For the sake of interest, let's look at how he fights in the context of gameplay, as a companion.
Abysm Sovereign
In combat, he uses his claws and tail to deal damage, which are enhanced by his abilities. But...
But being a dragon he fights not only with his fists, but also with his dragons skills. However, in fact, he still doesn't use additional weapons. This is us carried next to him with a heavy claymore and swings it as if it weighs nothing (• ▽ •)
Otherworldly visitor
This companion actually has one of my favorite fighting styles. The way he does the knee strike, ahem... Anyway, here we have the same trend: punching and kicking, enhanced by evol.
Relentless Conqueror
God, this man is ready to fight the Wanderers even in an expensive suit (which got a little torn during the recording of the fight, but that's not the point). The fighting style is a little different than Otherworldly Visitor, but the fact remains that he enhances his hits with evol.
This was all to emphasize a certain pattern, namely that he uses the power of his own body, his skills and abilities to the maximum, constantly training. Let's remember his Radiant Brilliance card, where he just goes to fights for fun and fights without using evol, where he can lose, but he will become better in order to win next time. He is strong, but he still strives to develop his skills further. In Grassland Romance, he literally pumped up, for who knows how long, just so that he could win 100%. I think he could have done it anyway, but for the sake of MC's peace of mind, he tried to prepare as much as he could and it gave its results.
He doesn't need to rely on the weapons he has, he is strong on his own. Whether in his past, when he lived in his dragon lair, where there were collections of weapons, or now, he still relies on himself and his own strength.
And I'll just insert this moment from Luke and Kieran's story. And it's true, he trained himself so much that he really doesn't need it.
something that is both heartwarming and heartbreaking about Caleb is the way he consistently continues to fight his fate, despite every sign he encounters pointing toward its inevitability:
it's in the way he defies the Toring Chip, and the meaning of 7%
When Caleb falls apart on the bench with MC and the chip resets in Farspace Bloomfall, 100% of his mind is supposed to reset.... and yet only 93% of the chip is integrated and able to do so.
We know Caleb is aware of this too, when he tells MC to tell him about her problems “while I can still respond.” Because he knows he'll inevitably lose some information once it happens, like the 'patrol data' Enforcer mentions.
This means it’s happened before, Caleb's mind had been reset before. Which means, he knows if the chip’s integrity ever gets to 100% and resets, anything he feels toward MC will also reset. And so..
“…he’s purposefully ‘sealed’ his brain rather than damaging it.”
So Caleb gathered up every emotion, every memory, and every impression of MC in his mind, wrapped it all together into one small piece, and has since, against all odds, continuously used his Evol to put a barrier around it, to protect it. To keep the chip from finding it and wiping it. And what is that piece? That 7%?
7% is MC. 7% is his memories of MC. 7% is his love for MC.
it's in the way he's turned himself from "perfect weapon to destroy each other" to "perfect weapon to destroy others"
I could be wrong (please correct me), but I'm pretty sure it's murky right now whether Caleb (subject 002?) knew MC during any of her 'incarnations' in the lab and/or their purposes to be a killswitch for each other. But if he does know or remember any of it, the protection of that 7% from the Toring Chip becomes even more vital and strategic as all hell.
Because that would mean Caleb orchestrated a situation where he's become the lab subject, a decoy in MC's place as they try and correct the chip within him.
And that would mean that Caleb planned for them to "sacrifice a great deal to obtain him," — apparently, so much that they're unwilling/unable to simply dispose of him when he's resisting the very thing that would seal his fate as "the key", as MC's killswitch.
and it's in the literal beat of his heart
when you lay your hand over caleb's heart to hear his heartbeat, no matter how fast that beat starts out, if you hold your hand there long enough, his heartbeat inevitably tapers into a calm 50-60.
Despite all he's doing to preserve that 7%, he can't fight the nature of the other 93%. The nature of the chip and it's purpose to keep him in an emotional stasis.
His excitement to see you, his happiness to have you there, the fluttering of his heart? Those are abnormalities to the chip, those aren't in line with what that stasis is supposed to be. And so... no matter how quickly his heart beats for you initially, it inevitably gets suppressed.
We see how it affects other members of the Fleet too. How all of them have accepted the inevitability of the chip. Tuum Officer No. 6025 and Liam in particular shows us exactly what it looks like to give in.
And yet, every time you come back, Caleb's still excited, Caleb still fights it. He's fighting it with only 7% of his memory, he's fighting it with every quickened beat of his heart.
If the chip is a tether, if his fate is a tether, Caleb will never stop sawing at the strings, and i am not okay about it.
blame for any and all crash outs can be directed to @solifloris and @starmocha, who have managed to make my "down bad" for caleb turn into "sick to my stomach with eternal devotion"
gamechangershow
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
jimmyeatworldofficial
