Doppokitty - Thundercloudcat

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Our team has been working very hard to bring as many players as possible in-game streaming, a new technology for Sky that we hope will bridge the real-world and in-game experiences. handshake This technology will be available to players on iOS, most Android devices, PlayStation, PC, and Steam Deck.

Unfortunately, over the course of development, we ran into numerous technical challenges, and some could not be solved in time for SkyFest despite a lot of time and effort on the part of our engineering team. Players on Nintendo Switch devices, as well as a small percentage of Android devices, will not be able to experience SkyFest Cinema tech for this reason.

Learn more about what this means for Sky Kids far and wide in our latest blog!

Why are you running???

I was running after this moth in circles around the boneyard area of the hidden forest, where they were being drowned by the rain. As soon as I ignite them, they go running away to get extinguished again. Multiple times.

I'm unsure if they're panicking or if it's my sky child's rather disgruntled appearance.

It's almost like the manga but more a n g s t y

Kunikida, the man who lived by ideals realises how wrong he was to ever have them, it was all fine until he slowly by slowly lost everyone he loved without being able to do anything to help them. Could he really continue his ideals after he failed them?

Torn Pages

Kunikida x GN!Reader

warnings: lots of mentions of death and suicide

genre: hurt/angst

word count: ~900

a/n: alright i’m officially dead inside. i may have teared up a few times while writing this but it was somehow comforting too? i’ll tag a few people who’ve been participating in this angst week i hope you won’t be mad at me :’) @pompompurin1028 @jadegreenimmortality @alittlesimp @bsdparadise @kiyokoxd thank you for the very sweet prompt, Riley.

oh sweet, sweet pain. <3

“I’m so sorry, Kunikida. They were… They were already dead when you brought them in.”

Yosano’s voice resonated in Kunikida’s brain as she left him alone with the body. Strong winds were whistling in his ears while he was trying to process what her words meant.

Sorry?

Dead?

He held your inanimate head and pressed it to his chest, the blood that covered your beloved face rubbed off on his vest.

The tears that started streaming down his face weren’t enough to wipe it off.

He buried his face into your hair and inhaled your otherworldly scent. One last time. He cried, and cried, and cried. Your body muffled his sobs. His steel grip on you got locked, never wanting to let go, never believing that you were… gone.

His ideals included fighting against the evil.

His ideals never included encountering that dangerous man.

His ideals included never giving up and never losing courage.

His ideals never included you using your body as his shield.

His ideals never included your departure from life.

Just as how his ideals never included pulling the trigger on an innocent, brainwashed child. Letting a little girl commit suicide in front of his eyes. Causing another little girl to go through the severe trauma of waiting for the sweet voice of death with a ticking bomb on her chest.

Every single drop of blood that had been shed because of him slowly formed a silhouette and gripped his throat tightly. He felt short of breath.

“How do you like playing God now?” the silhouette hissed with hatred. “Deeming it possible to program the life with some fucking schedules, to have everything under control after noting down some shitty ideals. Pathetic.”

With that last word, the grip suddenly tightened and Kunikida didn’t feel strong enough to escape it. He knew those words were true. More accurate than anything he had believed in. As he was starting to see stars because of the lack of oxygen, he struggled in vain with a last sprinkle of hope and managed to turn his head slightly to meet the eyes of his executioner, the eyes of his Confessor.

The eyes he met was yours.

“Why did you kill me, Kunikida?”

The metallic voice he had been hearing slowly turned into yours.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. Why did you kill me? Why did you kill us? We didn’t do anything wrong. We never did something wrong. Did we do something wrong?”

He hopelessly shivered at your words, and stopped fighting.

“I guess I did. I wasn’t the ideal one, right? Not the ideal partner. That’s why you killed me. Is that why you killed me?”

His legs gave up and he felt his trachea crack under your fingers’ strong clutch around his throat.

“I will never forgive you.”

He woke up in sweat with a sharp pain.

He was lying in the Agency’s bed, the bed where your body was once resting peacefully.

He didn’t do anything. He was in a numb state where his body wouldn’t be able to support even the smallest movements.

He wished he could do the same with his brain. He wished he could just stop it, make it cease to work, cease to ask painful questions without answers.

When was the last time his ideals made him happy?

When was the last time he sincerely thought he was grateful to have them by his side?

If he asked them to bring you back, would they be able to do it?

He knew the answer to this last one. Of course not.

Written words can’t do anything.

He had propped his whole life with those written words. He had been holding his ideals to such a high standard that he was blinded by them. He was so concentrated on making the world perfect that he couldn’t see how his world was slowly falling apart with every beloved resident in it.

They had absolutely no worth.

No worth at all.

He had been living a lie for all those years.

He turned his head and saw his vest with his notebook on it.

Tear it out.

His vest looked as neat as ever. There was no longer any trace of your blood on it.

They were able to clean it off.

What about the trace it left on his mind? Would Yosano be able to remove that stain out of his brain? What about his ideals? Do they have a solution for that?

Tear it out.

It was your voice that gave the order.

Tear it out.

He reached out for the notebook.

Tear it out.

He opened the first page.

Tear it out.

He tore it out.

He tore the second page out.

He tore the third page out.

Tear it out.

With every page he tore out, he was getting closer to the fine line between sanity and madness.

With every page he tore out, with every ideal he witnessed getting ripped to shreds, he was trying to make himself believe that you would forgive him now.

But he knew the truth. He knew that you would never forgive him.

He knew that your blood wouldn’t ever fade away. Neither from his hands, nor from his mind.

The flames of his ideals had taken root in him, and were razing everything around him.

He was determined to get rid of those roots. The notebook was just the beginning.

But it’s only common knowledge that when you rip the roots off, the tree dies.