How is this even possible that my iPad Air m3 drained way sooner and more than my friends iPad Air m2??? Both of us are heavy users using our iPad for everything- assignments,media, gaming while charging for 7-10 hours nonstop whatever you name it!!! 😭💔
So I bought my m3 a few months ago and thought about showing it off here but forgot about it until just today my friend argued saying it was boring. I thank him for reminding my appreciation and love for this franchise but I got furious and told him how steins gate is the best anime/creation ever in mankind history. Even if any anime,anyyyy animeee or movie like death note,code geass,one piece,dbz,Monogatari,fight club,inception,prestige etc. whatever it is ever becomes my number 1, Steins gate will go beyond that and become no.0 for me.
Like steins gate is the bar for me,it can’t ever go higher than that, I’ve consumed so much media all these years but never ever has anything come even an inch near steins gate.
If ever I could erase my memory to watch steins gate from the first episode,from the very first D-mail, the very first diversion. My answer will always be yessss a 10000000 times!
I’m sorry for this mess of a post but I love this series soooo muchhh, I’d chose it as my fav in every worldlines possible.
Peace out,
El Psy Kongroo.
THE MONTH OF ASHES
The first thing you noticed about your new country was the sky.
It stretched endlessly above in faded shades of silver and blue, vast enough to make you feel insignificant beneath it. You arrived believing the country would become a temporary chapter in your life — a place of lectures, parties, sleepless nights, and stories you would laugh about years later.
For a while, it was exactly that.
University life embraced you quickly. You made friends faster than expected, became familiar in crowded corridors, and found yourself constantly surrounded by people. There were rooftop smoking sessions at two in the morning, loud music vibrating through cramped apartments, girls whispering your name when they thought you couldn’t hear them, and the intoxicating freedom that comes with living far away from home for the first time.
You felt untouchable.
Then the nightmares began.
The first one came on the thirteenth night after your arrival.
You woke unable to breathe.
At first, you thought it was sleep paralysis. Your chest tightened violently as panic surged through your body. The room was dark except for the pale glow leaking through the curtains, and your roommates slept motionless in their beds.
Then you realized something impossible.
You were no longer lying down.
Your body hovered several feet above the mattress.
Perfectly still.
Cold spread through the room with unnatural intensity, crawling across your skin like frostbite. You tried to scream for help, but your mouth refused to open. Your limbs hung limp beneath you while invisible pressure held you suspended in silence.
Below, your roommates remained asleep.
They looked less like people and more like corpses.
Then, without warning, your body slammed back onto the bed.
The impact shook the frame hard enough to rattle the walls.
You shot upright, gasping violently.
Neither roommate woke.
The second night was worse.
You opened your eyes to the sound of wood scraping against concrete.
Your bed was moving.
Slowly.
Dragging itself across the room as though something underneath it was pulling you forward.
You tried to climb off, but your body refused to respond. Terror rooted you in place while the desk chair in the corner gradually turned toward you on its own.
Then the whispering began.
Not outside.
Inside the walls.
Dozens of voices spoke simultaneously in a language you had never heard before. The sounds overlapped and distorted into something almost human.
One sentence emerged clearly from the noise.
“He found you.”
The next morning, you told your friends everything.
They laughed.
One blamed stress.
Another blamed cigarettes.
Someone suggested you were losing sleep because of exams.
You tried laughing with them, but the fear remained lodged deep inside your chest.
The following night, one of them saw it.
At exactly 3:17 AM, your roommate woke to find your body hanging upside down near the ceiling.
Your eyes were open.
Your mouth stretched into a smile far wider than humanly possible.
He screamed.
The lights exploded.
Your body dropped onto the floor with a sickening thud.
After that, nobody wanted to sleep near you.
Something changed at the university the next day.
Conversations died when you walked past.
People stared too long.
The hallways felt unnaturally quiet, as though the building itself were listening.
Your phone stopped receiving calls from home.
Even the sky appeared different — pale, lifeless, almost rotten.
That was when you saw him.
A tall figure stood motionless near the university gates.
Black robes.
Black gloves.
A face so pale it barely looked alive.
But it was his eyes that terrified you.
They remained fixed entirely on you.
Not with curiosity.
Not with anger.
With possession.
The instant your eyes met his, nausea twisted violently through your stomach.
Then he smiled.
Every instinct in your body screamed at you to run.
You grabbed your friends and bolted through the campus.
But no matter where you turned, he was there.
At the end of corridors.
Standing beside stairwells.
Watching from across the football field.
He never chased you.
He simply appeared closer each time.
One of your friends began crying.
Another whispered prayers beneath his breath.
Then the world dissolved into darkness.
When you regained consciousness, you were sitting in an underground room illuminated by candlelight.
The air smelled of ash and damp stone.
The man sat across from you in silence.
Watching.
Smiling.
Not blinking.
You tried to move, but your limbs felt detached from your body, as though they no longer belonged to you.
“You survived longer than the others,” he said softly.
His voice sounded wrong.
Beneath it, you could hear other voices speaking simultaneously.
You demanded to know who he was.
He ignored the question.
Instead, he slid two objects across the floor toward you.
The first was a bracelet made of black beads.
The second was a silver locket covered in symbols that seemed to shift whenever you looked away.
The man leaned forward.
You smelled smoke and ashes on his breath.
“For one month,” he whispered, “you belong to me.”
You tried to attack him.
Your body refused to obey.
The man laughed quietly.
The sound echoed unnaturally through the room, as though the darkness itself were laughing with him.
Then he stood and stepped backward.
Not through a doorway.
Into the darkness itself.
When you finally stumbled back outside, the world felt distorted.
Your vision blurred.
Your balance disappeared.
It felt as though gravity itself rejected your existence.
That was when she found you.
A girl from your university.
Quiet.
Observant.
The kind of person who always seemed to understand more than she admitted.
The moment she noticed the objects in your hands, fear flooded her expression.
She muttered words under her breath in another language.
The air around you became colder.
You grabbed her arm and demanded answers.
She looked directly into your eyes.
“Black magic,” she whispered.
The words sent freezing pain through your body.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
You felt something move beneath your skin.
Quickly, she explained the rules.
If someone marked you willingly, they gained ownership over part of your soul.
The objects had to be worn exactly as instructed.
Panicking, you wrapped the bracelet around your forearm instead of your wrist.
Pain exploded through your arm instantly.
The flesh tightened against bone.
Veins darkened beneath your skin.
Your arm began shrinking as though something inside it were being drained away.
You screamed.
The girl ripped the bracelet free.
Slowly, your arm returned to normal.
But the veins never completely lost their faint black color.
Then she said something that terrified you more than anything else.
“He shouldn’t have found you yet.”
That night, sleep became impossible.
Because you were no longer fully controlling your body.
You woke barefoot in the rain outside your apartment building.
You woke with dirt beneath your fingernails.
You woke speaking languages you did not recognize.
One morning, your friends found you staring into the bathroom mirror for hours.
You were not blinking.
Not moving.
Only smiling.
And your reflection smiled wider than you did.
Something was entering you.
Or perhaps something inside you was finally waking up.
Terrified, you and your friends decided to flee the country.
No explanations.
No goodbyes.
Just leave.
At the airport, hope returned for the first time in days.
Then the lights shut off.
One by one.
Darkness swallowed the terminal.
A hollow laugh echoed through the speakers.
His laugh.
Your friends vanished.
Then a hand touched your shoulder.
Cold enough to burn.
Darkness consumed you again.
When you awoke, you found yourself inside an enormous estate hidden deep within the mountains.
The building felt ancient.
Not abandoned.
Maintained.
Alive.
Dead trees surrounded iron fences outside the windows. Endless hallways stretched in every direction, lined with security cameras that followed your movements.
Students wandered silently through the corridors.
Hundreds of them.
All from your university.
Some looked terrified.
Others looked empty.
Broken.
As though they had surrendered something essential long ago.
You tried escaping.
Every hallway curved back into itself.
Every exit led deeper into the estate.
And no matter how far you ran, soft laughter followed somewhere behind you.
The house was watching.
Eventually, you collided with someone familiar.
Your class leader.
Relief crashed through you instantly.
Finally, someone normal.
Someone safe.
You begged him to help you escape.
But he only smiled calmly.
“That’s why I’m here,” he replied.
Something about his expression felt deeply unnatural.
Too calm.
Too practiced.
He guided you through endless corridors before leading you into a massive dormitory room.
Dozens of students sat silently on beds, staring as you entered.
Then you saw her.
Your sister.
She sat alone in the corner wearing the same black bracelet.
You rushed toward her.
She slowly raised her head.
Her expression remained completely empty.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered.
At that exact moment, every student in the room turned toward you simultaneously.
And smiled.
Behind them, the tall man stood silently in the doorway.
Waiting.
As though he had expected your arrival for years.
Then he finally revealed the truth.
The university had never truly been a university.
It was a selection ground.
Every few years, students from different countries were unknowingly chosen and brought there.
The lonely.
The gifted.
The broken.
The admired.
All selected for one purpose.
To become vessels for something ancient buried beneath the estate.
And you?
You had never been chosen randomly.
You had been marked since childhood.
The nightmares.
The fainting spells.
The endless feeling of being watched.
It had all been preparation.
The month was never about survival.
It was a countdown.
A slow descent toward the moment you would stop being human entirely.
Then came the final realization.
Your sister was never trapped there.
She had arrived long before you.
And she had been waiting for you to come.
THE MONTH OF ASHES
The first thing you noticed about your new country was the sky.
It stretched endlessly above in faded shades of silver and blue, vast enough to make you feel insignificant beneath it. You arrived believing the country would become a temporary chapter in your life — a place of lectures, parties, sleepless nights, and stories you would laugh about years later.
For a while, it was exactly that.
University life embraced you quickly. You made friends faster than expected, became familiar in crowded corridors, and found yourself constantly surrounded by people. There were rooftop smoking sessions at two in the morning, loud music vibrating through cramped apartments, girls whispering your name when they thought you couldn’t hear them, and the intoxicating freedom that comes with living far away from home for the first time.
You felt untouchable.
Then the nightmares began.
The first one came on the thirteenth night after your arrival.
You woke unable to breathe.
At first, you thought it was sleep paralysis. Your chest tightened violently as panic surged through your body. The room was dark except for the pale glow leaking through the curtains, and your roommates slept motionless in their beds.
Then you realized something impossible.
You were no longer lying down.
Your body hovered several feet above the mattress.
Perfectly still.
Cold spread through the room with unnatural intensity, crawling across your skin like frostbite. You tried to scream for help, but your mouth refused to open. Your limbs hung limp beneath you while invisible pressure held you suspended in silence.
Below, your roommates remained asleep.
They looked less like people and more like corpses.
Then, without warning, your body slammed back onto the bed.
The impact shook the frame hard enough to rattle the walls.
You shot upright, gasping violently.
Neither roommate woke.
The second night was worse.
You opened your eyes to the sound of wood scraping against concrete.
Your bed was moving.
Slowly.
Dragging itself across the room as though something underneath it was pulling you forward.
You tried to climb off, but your body refused to respond. Terror rooted you in place while the desk chair in the corner gradually turned toward you on its own.
Then the whispering began.
Not outside.
Inside the walls.
Dozens of voices spoke simultaneously in a language you had never heard before. The sounds overlapped and distorted into something almost human.
One sentence emerged clearly from the noise.
“He found you.”
The next morning, you told your friends everything.
They laughed.
One blamed stress.
Another blamed cigarettes.
Someone suggested you were losing sleep because of exams.
You tried laughing with them, but the fear remained lodged deep inside your chest.
The following night, one of them saw it.
At exactly 3:17 AM, your roommate woke to find your body hanging upside down near the ceiling.
Your eyes were open.
Your mouth stretched into a smile far wider than humanly possible.
He screamed.
The lights exploded.
Your body dropped onto the floor with a sickening thud.
After that, nobody wanted to sleep near you.
Something changed at the university the next day.
Conversations died when you walked past.
People stared too long.
The hallways felt unnaturally quiet, as though the building itself were listening.
Your phone stopped receiving calls from home.
Even the sky appeared different — pale, lifeless, almost rotten.
That was when you saw him.
A tall figure stood motionless near the university gates.
Black robes.
Black gloves.
A face so pale it barely looked alive.
But it was his eyes that terrified you.
They remained fixed entirely on you.
Not with curiosity.
Not with anger.
With possession.
The instant your eyes met his, nausea twisted violently through your stomach.
Then he smiled.
Every instinct in your body screamed at you to run.
You grabbed your friends and bolted through the campus.
But no matter where you turned, he was there.
At the end of corridors.
Standing beside stairwells.
Watching from across the football field.
He never chased you.
He simply appeared closer each time.
One of your friends began crying.
Another whispered prayers beneath his breath.
Then the world dissolved into darkness.
When you regained consciousness, you were sitting in an underground room illuminated by candlelight.
The air smelled of ash and damp stone.
The man sat across from you in silence.
Watching.
Smiling.
Not blinking.
You tried to move, but your limbs felt detached from your body, as though they no longer belonged to you.
“You survived longer than the others,” he said softly.
His voice sounded wrong.
Beneath it, you could hear other voices speaking simultaneously.
You demanded to know who he was.
He ignored the question.
Instead, he slid two objects across the floor toward you.
The first was a bracelet made of black beads.
The second was a silver locket covered in symbols that seemed to shift whenever you looked away.
The man leaned forward.
You smelled smoke and ashes on his breath.
“For one month,” he whispered, “you belong to me.”
You tried to attack him.
Your body refused to obey.
The man laughed quietly.
The sound echoed unnaturally through the room, as though the darkness itself were laughing with him.
Then he stood and stepped backward.
Not through a doorway.
Into the darkness itself.
When you finally stumbled back outside, the world felt distorted.
Your vision blurred.
Your balance disappeared.
It felt as though gravity itself rejected your existence.
That was when she found you.
A girl from your university.
Quiet.
Observant.
The kind of person who always seemed to understand more than she admitted.
The moment she noticed the objects in your hands, fear flooded her expression.
She muttered words under her breath in another language.
The air around you became colder.
You grabbed her arm and demanded answers.
She looked directly into your eyes.
“Black magic,” she whispered.
The words sent freezing pain through your body.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
You felt something move beneath your skin.
Quickly, she explained the rules.
If someone marked you willingly, they gained ownership over part of your soul.
The objects had to be worn exactly as instructed.
Panicking, you wrapped the bracelet around your forearm instead of your wrist.
Pain exploded through your arm instantly.
The flesh tightened against bone.
Veins darkened beneath your skin.
Your arm began shrinking as though something inside it were being drained away.
You screamed.
The girl ripped the bracelet free.
Slowly, your arm returned to normal.
But the veins never completely lost their faint black color.
Then she said something that terrified you more than anything else.
“He shouldn’t have found you yet.”
That night, sleep became impossible.
Because you were no longer fully controlling your body.
You woke barefoot in the rain outside your apartment building.
You woke with dirt beneath your fingernails.
You woke speaking languages you did not recognize.
One morning, your friends found you staring into the bathroom mirror for hours.
You were not blinking.
Not moving.
Only smiling.
And your reflection smiled wider than you did.
Something was entering you.
Or perhaps something inside you was finally waking up.
Terrified, you and your friends decided to flee the country.
No explanations.
No goodbyes.
Just leave.
At the airport, hope returned for the first time in days.
Then the lights shut off.
One by one.
Darkness swallowed the terminal.
A hollow laugh echoed through the speakers.
His laugh.
Your friends vanished.
Then a hand touched your shoulder.
Cold enough to burn.
Darkness consumed you again.
When you awoke, you found yourself inside an enormous estate hidden deep within the mountains.
The building felt ancient.
Not abandoned.
Maintained.
Alive.
Dead trees surrounded iron fences outside the windows. Endless hallways stretched in every direction, lined with security cameras that followed your movements.
Students wandered silently through the corridors.
Hundreds of them.
All from your university.
Some looked terrified.
Others looked empty.
Broken.
As though they had surrendered something essential long ago.
You tried escaping.
Every hallway curved back into itself.
Every exit led deeper into the estate.
And no matter how far you ran, soft laughter followed somewhere behind you.
The house was watching.
Eventually, you collided with someone familiar.
Your class leader.
Relief crashed through you instantly.
Finally, someone normal.
Someone safe.
You begged him to help you escape.
But he only smiled calmly.
“That’s why I’m here,” he replied.
Something about his expression felt deeply unnatural.
Too calm.
Too practiced.
He guided you through endless corridors before leading you into a massive dormitory room.
Dozens of students sat silently on beds, staring as you entered.
Then you saw her.
Your sister.
She sat alone in the corner wearing the same black bracelet.
You rushed toward her.
She slowly raised her head.
Her expression remained completely empty.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered.
At that exact moment, every student in the room turned toward you simultaneously.
And smiled.
Behind them, the tall man stood silently in the doorway.
Waiting.
As though he had expected your arrival for years.
Then he finally revealed the truth.
The university had never truly been a university.
It was a selection ground.
Every few years, students from different countries were unknowingly chosen and brought there.
The lonely.
The gifted.
The broken.
The admired.
All selected for one purpose.
To become vessels for something ancient buried beneath the estate.
And you?
You had never been chosen randomly.
You had been marked since childhood.
The nightmares.
The fainting spells.
The endless feeling of being watched.
It had all been preparation.
The month was never about survival.
It was a countdown.
A slow descent toward the moment you would stop being human entirely.
Then came the final realization.
Your sister was never trapped there.
She had arrived long before you.
And she had been waiting for you to come.