#but the Ginger thing is too much to be a coincidence
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So I had this class about a specific niche of Hollywood history this year and my main take-away from it is that Bolinâs arc in TLoK s2 is 100% inspired by Fred Astaire.
A sibling duo who rose to fame together but the older one leaves the industry so the younger one has to adjust and find his own path? Check.
Starts a career as an actor in black and white films that already have audio? Check.
Gets paired with an actress called Ginger and together they rise to new heights of fame/success? Check.
Anyway, I guess this is my contribution to the fandom. Do with it what you will.
#I googled to find out whether the creators have acknowledged this in any way but I couldnât find anything#but the Ginger thing is too much to be a coincidence#avatar: tlok#tlok#the legend of korra#lok bolin#bolin#fred astaire#30s movies#40s movies#50s movies#early hollywood#theory#fan theory#parallels#the fire ferrets#tlok ginger#ginger rogers#bolin and mako#fred and adele astaire
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gingerbread
himbo bf x male reader
summary: spending time with your boyfriend and his family for the holidays. some fluff, lil angst, bad jokes (i apologise in advance), and minimal smut of course.
notes: merry chrysler! hope yâall pretty people are doing amazing. notoriously indecisive in true bootylicious fashion, i settled on one of my fave typa men - gentle giant himbos. think danny wheeler from baby daddy. now, i would never call my men dumb, but always be saying real stupid things. thereâs a specific kind of wonder that you can see in their eyesâŚiâm whipped.
disclaimer: i also tried to keep it as open to as many tastes as possible, so a lot of who he is, you can do create yourself. but i had to make him a bit of a redhead, they too fine.
yâall better gass me because the way i wrote this 3 hours before the end of xmas day, enjoy babies <3
saved in his phone as gingerbread - heâs a ginger, and you get bred xx
you always loved spending time with your boyfriendâs family, almost as much as they loved you. his mother was the first to catch Y/N fever, mostly because you reminded her of herself and it was a relief to know that someone could handle her sonâs antics . then it was his brothers, they loved how mellow you made him, as if all of his struggles melted away when you waltzed into his life. they felt like your guardians, wanting to protect you because they knew how much you meant to their baby brother. and his sistersâŚtheyâre lowkey your best friends. when you first met, yâall got on so well with one another bonding over fashion, pop culture, and weirdly philosophy.
his dad liked you as a person, believing you were a kind soul, but not the person for his son, because of how different you two were. they were a quiet luxury kinda family, which didnât necessarily coincide with how connected you were with celebrities. this was until he saw how well you worked together. whilst working on a huge project for the family business, your boyfriend was stressed in the office. you walked in, ready to go on a date after heâd finished. âhey baby, you look hot, where you going?â heâd forgotten, but you never held it against him. you loved to see the cogs turn in his head as he came to a realisation. âshit. itâs date night.â he groaned head in hands. âIâm so sorry Y/N, workâs just been so busy, the clients wanted to move the order forward, the contractors needed more data on the financial markets, andâŚâ you sat down on his desk, holding his chin so you guys exchanged eye contact. âbabe, itâs all good, i know itâs a really busy time for you.â you stroked his face reassuringly, a sigh of relief emitted from his lips. âi ainât leaving your side, weâre in this together,â you said as you went in for a kiss. it was deep and sensual, and if you didnât stop when you did, you wouldâve left that room walking side to side. âso, what can i help with?â you responded, looking at the documents on the desk. he stared up lovingly, âi donât deserve you,â he admitted âtoo good to me.â which garnered a little chuckle from you. his dad saw how supportive you were, pulling an all-nighter for the benefit of your man. you were so tired that the two of you spooned on the couch in his office, and slept there. early the next morning, the two of you were met with a breakfast course on the coffee table and your respective starbucks orders. you kissed your bf goodbye, so he could work, and just as you were about to leave, his father stopped you. âgood morning Y/N, did you enjoy the food?â he questioned as you entered the elevator together. âit was lovely sir, thank you.â you replied hesitantly. âthe only thanks due is to you, i appreciate how youâre always there for my son.â you smiled inside, longing to prove yourself to him. âI love him sir, he needs to know that any problem he has, automatically becomes our problem to solve together.â he knew at that moment, you were the perfect fit.
one of the core memories of your relationship was the weekend in the alps. your boyfriend thought this wouldâve been the perfect opportunity to have some alone time with you before the new year. with award season coming up, many celebrities needed to be styled, you legit had no time to see him, it was going to be amazing. you stayed in the chalet his parents owned, but neither of you knew that itâd be an entire sibling getaway. the two of you snuggled under the blankets, drinking hot chocolate, whilst listening to some quiet smooth jazz in the background. revelling in how cozy and warm it was, he was dozing off whilst cuddling and you decided to follow suit, but not before a quick kiss on your bfâs nose - heâs so cute. unfortunately, like most precious things, this didnât last long. there was a huge clatter at the door, awakening you two. âwhat the fuck are you guys doing here?â your man blasted at them. âoh hey lil bro,â one of them said as the others made themselves feel at home. âwe heard you lovebirds were here and wanted to see Y/N again, we missed him.â they all waved at you. you blushed and immediately got up greet them all with hugs and squeals. âomds, i havenât see you guys in ages, we have so much to catch up on.â you blurted out in an excited frenzy. your love, on the other hand, didnât share the same energy. whilst you had walked to his sisters, his brothers playfully punched your bf to cheer up. âyou idiots, have the worst timing, he said as they got ready to get some wood for the chimney.
it was just you and the girls, as you gossiped about the drama that went down during fashion week as they ate up every word. you mostly had done a lot of listening to their relationship dramas and work lives, as you shared a couple giggles. you has made gingerbread men, as his sisters watched the master at work. âY/N, these are delicious, how are you so good at everything?â they praised which made you blush. the boys had returned, with your man wincing with pain as his brothers carried him in. âthe dummy tripped on the snowâ they said snickering as you walked to help him. âhow many times have i told you to be careful out there?â you said, concerningly staring at the bruise on his hip. you touched it gently earning a wince from him as he pushed away your hand. âsorry babe.â he stared dead in your eye and looked away, giving you the silent treatment. âwhat do you need?â he continued airing. âiâm gonna get some bandagesâ you said, unsure of what you did to hurt him emotionally.
âthe fuck is wrong with you?â his sisters protested, thumping his head. âow! what do you mean?â âthat boy loves you, so much so that he puts up with all of your shit and stupidity.â they come to your defence. he looks to his brothers for help, but to no avail. âdude, Iâll be real, you fucked up.â one says. âhe was just trying to helpâ another adds. like the youngest, he continues to deflect âwell, if you guys hadnât come, i wouldnât have gotten hurt, and me and Y/N would have been happier. he finally admitted. âoh damn.â their faces became gentler as they circled in on him. âI just never get to see him now, with work and everything, and i donât want him to get used to not seeing meâ he started to get teary but hid it behind a scowl. âbro, you are meant to be with Y/N, i see it in your eyes every time he walks into a room, like heâs the only one there.â your bf smiles at the mere thought of your face. âsee, he ainât even here and youâre cheesing so bad rn.â they all laugh. âi donât know how to tell him, heâs so good at communicating his feelings, i just, i just canât do it the way he does.â his heart begins to beat faster. âthatâs the thing though, he knows you better than you know yourself.â the eldest brother says âthereâs nothing that he wonât be able to understand because the two of are so connected.â
you enter with the bandages and medical supplies. âhereâs a chance to fix thatâ his twin sister says as they leave and move to the other side of the mansion, locking the door behind them as they wave you bye for now. you sit beside him on the sofa, placing a hot compress on his bruise. âY/N, we need to talk.â you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine by being stand-offish âspeak then.â you say glaring into his eyes that made you melt every time but now. âi am so sorry for my rude behaviour, i know you were just tryna help my stubborn ass.â you continued tending to his wounds, with an apathy rivalled only by the unconditional love you have for him. âwhatever.â you muttered. âaw, come on baby, donât be like that.â he grimaced. âlike what,â your voice growing in confidence âlike someone who, as hard as they try, can never get their boyfriend to fully open up?â you admitted. âyou know thatâs not the whole story.â he looks down. âmkayâ you say, tired of arguin, he just needed to cool off. he takes a deep breath. âY/N, you know i love you more than anything â your boyfriend boldly states, deepening your eye contact. âand you know i love you the same, but sometimes love is not enough,â you struggle to get the words out, getting choked up as you hold his cheek for stability. he turns to kiss you, itâs like nothing youâve ever experienced before. he caresses your thigh, as your tongues dance for dominance in the warmth of your mouth. you pulled back. âhere goes nothing, babe, Iâm afraid, afraid of losing you.â he admitted desperately. âwe barely ever see each other and Iâm scared that it has, um, like, maybe, umâ he failed to articulate his thoughts, angering him further. âcalm down love, i hear what youâre saying. youâre worried about the possibility of us being comfortable with rarely seeing one another and what that means for us.â you always knew how to soothe his heart. âexactly, youâre just so good at letting me know what we need to do to make this relationship work that Iâm clueless at asking for help.â he smiled earning a chuckle from you. âweâre in this together boo, you wonât ever lose me.â as he sneers into another smooch. âfuck.â he moaned into your mouth as a tent forms in his boxers. âyour voice always gets me going.â you looked down and immediately dropped to your knees.
you hadnât sucked your boyfriendâs cock in what seemed like forever. you pulled his boxers to his ankles as his thick cock sprung up, throbbing in the cool air of the room. you grabbed his pole, gaslighting him into thinking you were going to start at the tip. instead you began to massage his beefy, low-hanging balls in your mouth. âY/N, fuck, thatâs where the spunk is stored, not where you drink it fromâ he snickered, removing them from your mouth. âyouâve got to st-UGHHHHâ you deepthroated with ease, loving how his dumb, naive nature was still translated to your time in the sheets. âthatâs it baby, good boyâ he praises, looking at the slobber that made his dick glisten. âshit.â he cums without warning, giving you an impromptu facial. âsorry darling, i came as soon as i saw you slap my dick on your thick lips.â your boyfriend helped you to clean up, pushing his hand all over your face and fingering your mouth with his nut.
you moved to undressing, as you straddled your man. âi know you wanna pound me into tomorrow, but you canât,â gesturing to his bruise. he whined and cooed. âhoweverâŚâ you whispered into his ear, jerking him of with a mix of his cum and your spit âimma help my man out tonight.â as you sank onto his schlong with ease. his hands immediately grabbed your globes, as he licked his lips salaciousy, enjoying your physique. âso fucking hot.â your bf mumbled. you started bouncing on his cock as he slowly rutted in you from beneath, your hole was already sore.
it was gonna be a long nightâŚ
@gayaristocrat imma save your fantasy for dacre, that man is 90s fine fr
#gay#smut#bottom male reader#male x male#mlm#male reader#christmas fanfic#male x male fluff#male x male angst
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Oh my god I woke up this morning and my Stardew Valley meta post had almost 150 notes????? Hello?????????? Anyways I started writing this last night because @moon-is-pretty-tonight left nice tags on the original so thank you so much!!
We know from the starting scenes of the game that the farmer's grandfather loved Stardew Valley. So why did he leave? Pelican Town is a good place to grow old; George and Evelyn are just fine. It's a fine place to raise a kid, but maybe he just wanted to raise his child closer to real schools and other children.
Or maybe, just maybe, he understood.
Was there a day when he was in his thirties where he looked at his friends and realized they weren't like him? That he could run faster than them, work longer, explore deeper into the hidden places of the valley?
Was there a day when he went to the wizard to ask him for help, for knowledge if nothing else? Did he learn then that his family was different? Special? Chosen? And how did he react? He couldn't possibly raise a child in the valley if they would be as strange and fey as him. He had to leave. There was no other way.
But years later, on his deathbed, did he regret that choice?
Is that why he gave the farmer the letter?
Is that why they went back home?
When the farmer steps off the bus that first day, the valley is still on the cusp of winter, just barely tipping over into spring. The flowers are starting to bloom, but a chill still hangs in the air. As soon as the farmer's boots touch the soil there's a change. The air gets warmer. The trees get greener. Not by too much, not all at once, but it changes.
The junimos watch the farmer as they do their work. They're new to farming, but take to it with frightening speed; their first batch of crops is perfect. None of the townsfolk tell them that parsnips don't normally grow in less than a week, that cauliflowers don't grow to be ten feet tall, that fairies don't visit when the sun goes down and grow potatoes and beans and tulips overnight. The junimos talk amongst themselves in their strange, wild language, and agree: this is the one. They're back. The valley recognizes its own, even when they've left for a generation. The farmers have come home.
Things change fast in the valley. The community center, empty and decrepit for so many years, is rejuvenated. (Lewis says it was abandoned only a few weeks after the farmer's grandfather left. Strange coincidence, he says, that it both came and went with the farmer's family.) The mines and the quarry, similarly abandoned, are explored for the first time in ages. The town becomes cleaner, brighter, more vibrant, happier.
And it is happier. Not just the environment, but the people. It's the talk of the town for weeks when Haley does her first closet purge. Leah's art show in the town square is a huge success. Shane's smiling for the first time since he moved to the valley. All of them, when asked, say it's all thanks to the farmer.
People love to ask why Lewis didn't fix the community center on his own. Why Willy never repaired the boat to ginger island. Why Abigail or Marlon never went down to fix the elevator in the mines, or why Clint didn't fix the minecarts.
But isn't it so much more interesting to ask how those things were there in the first place? How they got so broken down? If the stories the townspeople tell are true, the valley was once a beautiful place, flourishing and full of life; why did that change? When did it change?
Was it when the farmer's grandfather, the locus of the valley, its chosen representative, left town?
And if so, what happens when the farmer comes back?
#lich says shit#stardew valley#stardew farmer#sdv#my writing#Hope y'all enjoyed!#I'm thinking about developing this into. Like. An actual Fan Fiction. Still sort of short-form but like with more detail?#LMK if you'd be interested to see that! Also if you want to be tagged in future installations of this please just let me know :)#I'm super into this version of the farmer as like. Blessed and cryptic child of the valley with all the strange behavior that entails#If i DO write a more in-depth version of this it'll be from the perspective of someone in town#maybe Leah? She seems like she'd be the one to notice the farmer being Odd. Either that or I'll do it from the perspective of multiple--#--different people to get their unique insights and stuff#I'd also want to dig into like#The family history of the farmer. And what that's like.#Because like why did grandpa leave?#He clearly loved the valley#So why didn't he stay?#Why did he give the deed to his grandchild and not his literal child?#And is it a coincidence that everything in the valley went downhill when he left?#I don't think so.
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Part 7 - Date Activities
Slasher Handler Masterlist
NSFW under the cut.
CW: Non-descriptive mentions of torture, numbers and math, brief nudity, allusions to cannon-typical violence (Ghost's backstory), red herrings, bones
âWhere âm I?â You slur around a dry tongue. Struggling to balance your weight on your hips, try to wrap your arms around yourself. Too late, you realize that thereâs not enough slack on the chain to complete the motion. âWhereâre we?â
You want to scream. You want to cry and hide your face. Youâre horrified to realize that you want Simon, your version of Simon, to materialize on the edge of the bed and comfort you. Unfortunately, all you can do is blink and sway.
âIf youâre dizzy, you should lay back down.â Simonâs voice from that jaw-less skull is so disconcerting. In your nightmares, the skull mask sounds inhuman. Distorted, echoing. The burning bush overlap of every person whoâs ever made you unsafe. Now, itâs just Simonâs measured speech.
But the rest of him is just as big and dangerous as you remember. Heâs dressed like he expects to have to fight someone. His black jacket is covered by some kind of utility vest with a bunch of pockets. A handgun sits in a thigh holster, and on his other hip is the Big Knife. Heâs not wearing his usual boots, these are heavier looking. If you werenât so overwhelmed, youâd be terrified.
The masked killer on the other side of the room tilts his head and regards you for a long moment. The weird silence is such a Simon thing to do that you let yourself take your eyes off of him enough to take a quick look around the room. His chair is by the only door, a solid looking wood. To the left side of the room, thereâs a bare folding table. On it, from what you can see, sit bottles of water, a bag of grapes, and some brown packaging. Thereâs another folding chair. At the foot of the mattress, thereâs a huge, black hard case. The kind youâve seen in action movies.
âRight now,â Simon finally answers. âYouâre in the safe zone."
You blame the drugs in your system. Itâs the only reason you can think of to look him in his eyes and blurt, âThatâs not a fuckinâ answer, you cryptic asshole.â
Youâre glad youâve learned to read his eyes, because theyâre amused when he stands. Even across the room, he towers over you. You clutch at the blanket to, what? Protect yourself? But Simon just crosses to the table and picks up a bottle of water and a sleeve of saltine crackers. He chucks both of them at your legs before returning to his seat.
âSip the water, eat slowly,â he instructs. âAnd Iâll tell you the rules of the game.â
You canât think of a reason not to, so you struggle for a moment with the bottle cap before bringing the bottle to your lips. Your mouth feels gross and fuzzy, but the water is cool. The crackers, when you finally tear the packaging, are exactly what you needed. You wish you had some ginger ale.
âYou told Kyle that Iâd taken you hunting,â Simon starts. âBut I hadnât really. First time was a happy coincidence. Second time, you planned the date activity and I kind of hijacked it, yeah?â
If your neck wasnât so thick, Iâd strangle you, you think. You take another sip of water.
âSo I thought to myself, what parts of hunting might my sweet, clever girl be interested in? How can I make sure sheâs having just as much fun as me? And I remembered your little cubes.â
You narrow your eyes at that. The Rubikâs cubes were one of the first signs that heâd been breaking into your apartment. By now, he knows that you know how to solve them. Two weeks after heâd moved in next door, though, he hadnât figured that out. It had made your skin crawl to come home from work and see the colors in the wrong places. Now, sometimes, heâll present the cubes for you to solve while you talk. When you hand him the completed puzzle, he scrambles it up and hands it back.
âYou didnât kidnap me to make me solve a giant Rubikâs cube,â you say.
âNo,â he answers. If you could see his face, you think heâd be smirking. âBut the first part of the game is a puzzle. You have to get out of the room.â
When he doesnât say anything else, you want to scream. Instead, you slowly eat your way through the crackers and sip your water and think. The metal cuffs on your wrists are far enough apart that you can easily reach the locking mechanisms. Theyâre just tight enough that you canât wiggle out, but theyâre not uncomfortable. You canât see where the chain to the ground is latched, so if thereâs a clasp on that end, maybe this will be more simple than you think. You doubt it.
Daylight is streaming in through the window behind you. The shadows of the bars are very obvious, so the only way out of the room is going to be through the door. Simonâs sitting on the hinge side, but the only way youâll get out before he blocks the way is probably if heâs on this side of the room. Facing the table, maybe. Preferably not standing.
Maybe you can strangle him with the chain.
You freeze as soon as the thought enters your mind, cracker halfway to your mouth. Wrapping the chain around the neck of that death mask only makes sense. But the idea of killing Simon makes you feel like vomiting.
When you look back at him, his eyes are as heated as they ever get. âDonât worry, precious. I made you a promise last night. No killing, no wounds. No âSawâ puzzles. Just a little escape room. Told me you like those.â
Had you? That sounds like something you would have said, back in the beginning, to see what he would do. You take another sip to clear your mouth and settle your stomach. Youâre already feeling better. âWhat are the rules?â
âYouâve got ninety minutes to get out of the cuffs and get into the chest. Once youâve done both, the timer stops, and I explain the next part of the game.â
âCan I ask you questions once I get started?â
âOf course,â Simon says, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.
You bite your lip. âWhen does the timer start?â
âYou tell me when you start,â he says. âWeâre not in any rush.â
âWhatâs in the chest?â
âThat,â he answers, eyes crinkling with an obvious grin this time, âyouâll have to find out for yourself.â
That is not an answer you want to hear, but thereâs nothing to be done about it. You rack your brain for any more questions. There are, of course, about a million. But the one that sticks out is, âWhy were you so nice to me, last night? You could have just drugged me. You did, anyway.â
Simon doesnât say anything for a long time, just looks at you. He holds eye contact, so you donât look away. After a full thirty seconds, he hums. âYou said you missed me. That you wanted to be with me. You asked me to stay. I liked it.â
The way he says it, warm voiced and slow and soft, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Thereâs a spark of something in his eyes that you donât want to examine. Youâre too afraid to look away. But then he blinks and lets his eyes drift up and away from you. The breath you didnât know you were holding whooshes out of you.
âGuess Iâd better get started,â you say.
When you stand to the side of the bed, you find that youâre wearing one of his shirts, a pair of underwear, and a pair of socks. The room isnât unbearably cold, but itâs not comfortable. The chain to your cuffs is much longer than you expected. You think itâs long enough for you to walk all the way around the room, unimpeded. If so, itâs long enough to get out the door, with a little extra slack. Itâs locked to a loop bolted into the floor with a key lock.
You walk around to the table to get a good look at everything. Thereâs the water. The brown packages are four MREs, which you recognize from camping trips back when you were a teenager. Thereâs actually a few different fruits - grapes, apples, bananas, a bowl of chopped watermelon of all things. All of that is gathered on one side of the table. The side close to the empty chair has a manila folder. A glance inside shows printouts, three pages of text and forms, with some of the information redacted.
You let the folder fall closed and walk over to the chest. Thereâs two combination locks, each with four dials, one with numbers and the other with letters.
Thatâs two wrist cuffs, the lock for the chain, and two locks on the chest. If the cuffs share a key, this might be doable. If not⌠âTwo or three keys, and two combinations?â you ask.
âTwo keys, two combinations,â Simon confirms.
You do a quick calculation in your head. âA little more than 20 minutes per puzzle. Thatâs pretty tight, but doable. What happens if I donât get it done in time?â
You turn to look at Simon and catch him looking at your legs. When he meets your eyes, his are smirking again. âYou lose time in the second part of the game. And youâre going to want that time.â
With a sigh and a shake of your head, you walk to the wall across from the table. There are some cracks in the paint, a couple of scattered, discolored spots. But it doesnât seem deliberate. So you leave it and head back to the table. The folder is tempting, but obvious, so you start with the fruit.
Bag of grapes, three apples, five bananas. You open the package of watermelon and poke around in it. No keys. Not in the bag of grapes, either. The apples and bananas are whole. But one of the bananas has a series of numbers followed by Xs written on it in black ink. 11 21 32 XX. You pry it from the others, carefully, and take it over to the folder.
The metal chair is cold when you use your hand to pull it out. You turn back to the bed and grab the thin blanket to cover it, then have an idea. You shake the pillow from the pillowcase and strip the sheets from the bed. No key, but the pillow has another set of digits and Xs written on it. 7 13 26 XX. You lift the mattress to look under it, but thereâs nothing else, so you let it fall.
âCan I have a pen?â you ask, absently. Youâre surprised when Simon plucks one from his vest and holds it out for you. You snort as you walk over to take it. âCan I have the key to the cuffs, while youâre at it?â
Simonâs eyes do something complicated as you take the pen. Then he tilts his head, reaches up, and pulls a thin chain from under his shirt. On it dangle two keys, one a tiny cylinder of a thing, the other a proper key. He lets them both drop against his collarbones.
You dart your eyes between the keys and his eyes. âAre you serious?â
â��D prefer if you opened the folder,â he says with a shrug. âBut I do have the keys. Cost you⌠15 minutes for one.â
âDid you just make that number up?â You laugh. Then it hits you and you glare. âYouâre distracting me and stalling.â
âYou asked,â he points out, chuckling as you whirl on your heel to go back to the folder.
That is neither disputable or worth responding to, so you donât. You drop into your seat and open the folder. The first thing you do is jot down the numbers and where you found them on the inside. None of the numbers are repeated, so you leave them for now. Then you pick up the first sheet of paper.
Itâs the service record for one Simon J. Riley.
A lot of the information is redacted. Most of the page is blacked out lines. But you see that he enlisted in 2001, had some kind of redacted gap from 2003 to 2004, then resumed his service. Then it jumps out at you. 2007, KIA. You canât help but look up at him, and find him watching you already. You scour the page for any other information, but thereâs nothing. So you flip the page.
This one is some kind of tactical⌠memorandum? Too much is redacted for you to be able to get much information about who the report is for, so you just start reading.
Mission to Mexico. Drug cartel, name redacted. Compromised leadership. Someone got double crossed. You start feeling sick at the description of torture, but most of the details are obscured, so you push through. Then a line makes you pause, and you have to re-read it. You flip back and forth between Simonâs service record and the report.
âSimon,â you say slowly. Your stomach is really twisted in knots, now. Youâre afraid to look at him, but you make yourself meet his eyes. âWere you buried alive?â
He says, âYes.â Your heart breaks.
The next few lines are blacked out. You really donât want to ask, but, âHow did you get out?â
âBlood, sweat, and tears,â he says, vaguely. âProbably not something you want to think about, sweet thing. Donât want to waste time.â
âI need to pause the game,â you tell him. âbecause I just read that you were buried alive.â
âAn explanation will cost you an hour,â Simon offers. His eyes are crinkled like heâs smiling.
âSimon.â Your voice is sharp to your own ears. âWhat the fuck?â
âTick tock.â
You know from past experience that getting any more information from him will be like getting blood from a stone. So you make yourself read on. Thereâs a confusing bit about⌠brainwashing? Without the full context the report is a mess. Multiple civilian casualties, then⌠mission objective complete? Lots of blocked out text, surrounding a single word. ROBA.
You jot that on the lower half of the folder, then skim through the documents again for any numbers. Besides the years in the service record, thereâs nothing that jumps out. So you jot down 2001, 2003, 2004, and 2007.
You decide this is a good enough place to start with the puzzles. The numbers on the pillow seem simple enough. Youâre not good at math, but youâre good at patterns. You eliminate a few possible addition patterns, recognize it probably isnât pure multiplication. Considering who Simon is, you gamble that thereâs probably no fractions or decimals involved, so itâs probably going to be some combination of multiplication and subtraction. And as soon as you think of that, you see it. Times two, minus one. So the last number is 49.
The the second puzzle, from the banana, tickles your brain because you know youâve seen it before. The numbers arenât doubling. And itâs not simple addition. Adding in sequence seems to work. Adding 10 to 11 makes 21, then adding 11 works to get to 32. Plus 12 would make the next digits 44. That seems almost too easy, but these kinds of puzzles usually are. And it is a possible answer, so you write it down.
The only other potential numbers are the dates. If you pick the last four digits, thatâs 1347. Another code. Unless itâs 2222. Or 0000. Or 2020...
Now you have a few potential 4 digit codes, and a possible 4 letter code.
âTime check?â
Simon looks at his watch. âSixty-two minutes left.â
You hum an acknowledgment, and flip the pages in the folder, and the folder itself. Thereâs nothing else, so you leave the papers on the table and take your notes over to the crate.
Simon makes an interested noise through his nose. âThat was fast.â
âHavenât found the keys, yet,â you answer, âGotta get a move on.â
You start with the letters, because it seems straightforward. And then youâre a bit stumped, because the lock doesnât have a B available in the third slot. Or an A in the first. So youâll have to find a cypher or something before you can tackle this one. Disappointing, but you still have time. You move over to the other lock and hope you have what you need. 4944 doesnât work. Neither does 4449, 9444, or 4494. 2222, 0000, and 1347 are all a bust. You make your way through 1374, 1437, 1473, 1734, and 1743 before you give up.
âFuck,â you grumble.
Crouched as you are, you have a new vantage point to consider. You scuttle your way under the table without putting your knees on the ground, and look at the underside. Sure enough, thereâs a doodle of two bananas with a pillow in between. The dates were most likely a red herring. Or theyâre the cypher to the letters.
âI got the numbers wrong,â you grumble.
âYouâre a smart girl,â Simon says. âYou can figure it out. Fifty-seven minutes.â
You scoot from under the table and make to stand up, but something on your leg catches your eye. Dropping onto the now bare mattress, you lift the edge of your shirt, Simonâs shirt, and see writing on your inner thigh, upside down so you can see it easily. Four digits, 01 10, and another fucking banana.
âYouâve got to be kidding me,â you groan.
Simon snickers from his chair.
You grab your folder and pen and jot the new string of numbers down. 01 10 11 21 32 XX. Obviously, adding in sequence no longer works. Itâs gotta have something to do with the number of 1s in the sequence, so you try to let go of math related assumptions. The first two numbers swap their digits. Then two ones. Then a two and a one. Then a three and a two. Zero plus one is one. One plus zero is one. One plus one is two. Two plus one is three. Three plus two is⌠five as the first digit? Sliding the tens to the ones place is one, zero, one, two⌠three. 53.
Banana pillow banana, then, is 5493.
Before you go to check, you stand up to lift your shirt up to look at your belly, then higher to look at the skin of your breasts. You ignore the low wolf-whistle Simon makes to do a quick inspection. Nothing jumps out, so you let the shirt drop a bit and pull your underwear away from your hips. You feel a bit silly staring at your own crotch, but itâs Simon so you figure nothingâs really off limits. And youâre rewarded with the discovery of a piece of tape with a doodle of a heart on it. The tape is garment quality, which explains why you didnât feel it.
The heart doesnât really give you much, but you pull it out and slap it on the folder anyways.
âForty-nine minutes,â Simon says when you look up at him.
Back at the chest, you click the dials to the number sequence you identified and grin to yourself when the lock gives an easy snick as it opens. The other lock is still a mystery, but youâve got one down, and still plenty of time to request the cuff key if needed.
You turn to look up at Simon from where youâre crouched. âHow much does a hint cost?â
He pretends to think for a moment. âFor that lock? Flash me your tits again.â
âNasty,â you roll your eyes as you stand up. You lift the shirt up to your neck and are startled when he sits forward to rest his hands on your hips. The skull mask gets even closer, and then heâs kissing over your heart, eyes locked on yours. He leaves his lips against you through his balaclava, thumbs rubbing over the place where your hips meet your belly.
You stare down at that bone face from less than two inches away. You used to hope it was plastic. Now you know for a fact that it is not.
And then he lets you go and sits back, crossing his arms over his large chest. He looks at his watch.
âForty-six minutes.â
You gape at him. âWhereâs my clue?â
âThat was your clue.â
âThatâs the least helpful clue ever,â you complain.
âYou found all the other ones,â Simon points out. âBut Iâll tell you the solution if you let me fuck you.â
You scoff. âI donât need you to tell me. I can figure it out.â
âI know,â Simonâs grin is easier to make out this close. âMy clever girl.â
You grumble, but you canât help but grin as you try to think of what the four letter sequence could be. On a whim, you try TITS. The letters are present, but thatâs apparently not the combo. Heart has too many letters, but maybe has something to do with feelings. The lock doesnât have the right letters for LOVE, forward or backward. Same with HATE. You try SRSK for Simon Riley the Serial Killer, but thatâs not it. Youâre on a date, so you try combining his initials with yours where it fits, but thatâs not it either. In a fit of pique, you try TITS again.
Then you take a deep breath and think about Simon and you. Your relationship. DATE, KILL, and CARE are a bust. AMOR, EROS, HOLD, BOND. None of them work.
Youâre getting antsy because you still need at least the key for your handcuffs and you're running out of time, but you make yourself take a deep, slow breath. SLOW and DEEP donât work. And then you pause and look up at Simonâs face. At the skull.
BONE.
Nope. But it was worth a shot.
But thinking about skulls and bones makes you think of skeletons. Dead bodies. Cemeteries. Simonâs service record, breaking your heart.
BURY.
The lock clicks open.
Youâre giddy as you swing the lid of the chest open. And, almost immediately, you scramble backwards, shoulders colliding painfully with Simonâs knees. Without thinking, you clamber up until youâre perched in his lap, staring in horror at the human skull grinning up at you from atop black cloth.
A piece of tape is on the right temple. In Simonâs scrawl, it simply says BRANDON.
#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction#cod#fanfiction#simon ghost riley#dark fic#simon riley x you#slasher handler#simon riley x you smut#manic pixie dream ghost
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FLOW, CIRCULATION, AND THE LOVER
A Venusian Temple Arts Channeling Most problems related to the female (or male) body are due to a lack of circulation in that area where the ailment is occurring. Also, a lack of circulation will negatively impact your bag and coins. Said differently: in this system, unless you were born into "old money," you must own that the condition of your body is directly related to your quality of life. Circulation is related to your heart, blood, sensuality, sex, passion, deep feeling, creativity, and overall life force energy. And there is no coincidence that there is a large amount of shame and mysticism around the female body and its resourceful capacity for epic circulation i.e. creation and regeneration--not only for ourselves but for the cells of our loved ones and for the collective cells of our village/community. How beautiful, right?! This is what I was channeling in my first book when I wrote "A sensually activated woman is a wealthy natural resource for any community. Pleasure is power." If you are desiring to strengthen your skills as a lover Goddess which is your flow state capacity to create.... anything including tactile abundance like money and better health, without exhausting yourself, the circulatory system has to become your favorite system of the body. It has to be your friend, your loved one. Because the prime quality of a lover is that she knows how to inspire and stimulate circulation or flow states in others as well--a type of muse consciousness. It could be with her compassion, heart, use of language, use of hands, breasts projections, face/mouth/quality of conversation, dance, beauty, singing, etc. Artists, men, women, children, and animals are attracted to muse consciousness in different ways. Improving your circulation helps to not only open your heart (releasing current and ancestral heartache/heartbreak) , but also increases your lubrication and libido, repairs your skin into a suppleness, and keeps your systems healthier. You will not only look better, but you will feel better in a more authentic way. When you smile, it will be truthful and emanate from deep within. Keep your feet and belly warm during winter month. Once your circulation improves, the blockages start to move and issues start to repair. It is the heat and warmth from your energy FLOWING that creates new body narratives. A lover knows the beauty of stimulating good circulation in self and in another. Anytime there is pain or stagnancy in the body, it is an indication of lack of FLOW--meaning--a need for lover energy! A lover has to strengthen her connection to her hands as well. Hand-heart connection is all lover energy. Also the constant necessity of self-massage and self-touch is important for the body of a lover. Also, the skill and service of having your well-placed, prayed-over loving hands massaging the pain points or blockages of another is just as important. A lover also has to be able to relax and fully receive touch by another, whether a professional massage therapist or your lover. Other considerations: Drink water with a pinch of celtic sea salt/green juice. Keep ginger oil or powdered ginger in your apothecary. Use ginger paste (ginger powder/oil mixed with warm water) rubbed into pain or troubled sight or energetic stagnation including bald spots plus reducing sugar intake including *too much* fruit sugar and starchy carbs and dense meats -which slows down your blood flow while increasing some combination of movement, deep breathing, hot+cold water therapy, sauna/spa, sunbathing, walking, and the like are acts incorporated in a life of a lover and those who we care for. Train your mind to focus and stay calm--to be able to drop into deep presence and feel. Do to one thing at time like wash dishes without stopping to do anything else. Presence, an unscattered mind, is a high-skill and quality of a lover. Recalibrating the mindset and belief systems you've been holding onto for 20 years into more lighthearted, open-hearted frequencies are critical.
*I used "she/her" but lover energy is available to any gender in any shape or texture. *
-India Ame'ye, Author
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Out of the OL bubble
Sidenote: this post owes everything to the incredible sleuthing skills of an already longtime trusted friend, who wishes to remain discreet. All credit goes entirely to her - this is such an idiotic topic, yet the Ur Troll insists.
I answered one of you in the comment threads yesterday, that once you get the hell out of the OL bubble, things begin to make sense. Why? Well, because of distance and context, I suppose. And also because this always was the dirty little secret of our Dedicated Manipulative Trolls: to make you believe in a terribly poor narrative, fit for a linear world. A world without compromise, drama, secrets and lies. Collective lack of time, perspective and/or Internet research skills did the rest and gave birth to this monster: the OL Fandom.
We are now told and are supposed to believe that because Scottish Xena apparently chose on purpose (with this and only this, I could agree, but for opposite reasons) to show us she trains in a Cumbernauld gym, that means... well, you know the rest and it involves The Magic Golden Dirk. That troll was never exactly subtle, was she, bless her heart?
That mother and entrepreneur has a life of her own and an entourage of her own and business collaborations of her own and her own agenda. Some of it is shown on her Instagram account, most of it can be speculated. Connecting dots just for the sake of it is neither productive, nor remotely interesting.
Let's see, for example, how she reacts to a very insistent fellow German athlete, whom she is going to meet at the Hyrox Cologne event (13-14th of April, during the Landcon week-end):
đŹđą
What is Flamingos Club? Nope, not an ikebana society, no:
Tee-hee.
They were there before, in good company, last year, when they actually first met (rings a bell?):
(April 2023, ok? I am still waiting for my own DeLorean)
Who is this guy?
Fellow athlete, HYROX Ambassador (something I bet the farm she wants to achieve) and a contestant in this year's German reality show First Dates Hotel, on VOX (https://www.vox.de/cms/sendungen/first-dates-hotel.html):
The concept is simple: a renowned German chef, Roland Trettl (no idea!) now takes his blind date cooking show to the next level, with singles from all over the country parked into a Spanish dream holiday resort (Mallorca), shake, stir and see whatever happens. The classical Endemol recipe, now produced by Twenty Twenty. It also has an UK version, running on Channel 4 (coincidence? I doubt that very much, thank you!).
On set, Max's 'love interest' is a certain Linda. He recently wrote her ' a sweet love letter', taking the good advice of his namesake cast friend Max-the-Bartender:
(I swear to God, I feel like I am prostituting my đ§ , right now).
There is obviously nothing to see, here (or is it, such as two wannabes desperately wanting limelight?). She leads the typical no strings attached life of a single mom and he is still looking for a real job:
Since VOX does not give his full name, neither will I. It took five minutes to find him, with a bit of luck.
Why on Earth would one connect that woman to S, rather than to this nice, ambitious Bavarian?
I know why. It's almost too damn easy.
Two words: Channel 4. Truman Show. Ginger and Fred (oops, these are Our Couple).
Is it anything we haven't seen before?
Nope. We've seen way worse. But gone are the Days of Flukenzie Floozy.
[Edited] - there is no need to further expose our people.
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A Total Coincidence (Part 01)
Rating: totally family friendly đđź
Word Count: 3.4K
Warnings: Foul language, Mentions of blood, It's pretty angsty
A/N: OHHHHH we're so back. If you're new here, welcome. If not, welcome back! I am extremely excited for this. Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated. You can comment on this post or the masterlist to be added to the taglist!
You work a tiring and thankless corporate job. It pays well but itâs draining. You put a façade on in the office, one of polite, unruffled professionalism, but it slips quite quickly as soon as you push your way through the polished revolving glass doors of the modern high-rise.
He knows all of this because he watches you.
Itâs not creepy, he attempts to convince himself, because he goes to that coffee shop too. The cozy, dim-lit one that overlooks your place of work. Granted, he used to only go once every blue moon. Heâs there far more often now, in a darkened back booth, at the same time in the day.Â
A total coincidence.
Simon Riley never used to spend a lot of time in London. He has a permanent address there, under a fake name, just to smooth over certain legalities. He never bothered too much with the details. In between assignments he comes back to ensure everything is as it should be, and to water the small cactus on the windowsill, a joking gift from MacTavish following their op in Las Almas. Itâs one of those low-maintenance ones; you should soak the soil once every two months just to ensure it doesnât turn a duller shade of green. Simon is half certain he could feed the thing gasoline and it would still flourish. But he liked his routine. It was touch and go, busy, never too much time in one place. The injury threw a damn wrench in it all.
The team had been deployed somewhere in the South American jungle, attempting to uncover part of an elusive arms trafficking operation. While the job had been successful, Ghost had been rewarded with one in the gut. Hemorrhage, internal bleeding, the works. They had patched him up real well, but the Captain had insisted he take some time, at least until after Christmas. He hadnât wanted to. Thereâs nothing to do. It gets all too quiet when he is left to his own devices. He gets restless. But in this cafĂŠ, under warm string lights and surrounded by chatter, it isnât as lonely. Especially for the ten minutes just after 17:00 hours when you come in to place your order.
He isnât entirely sure what had drawn him to you in the first place. I could have been any number of things. The light gait of your walk, the way you struggle with the heavy door, your sweet voice, or the way you treat the serving staff. They all like you. Especially the ginger kid with the glasses⌠he likes you a bit too much. It could have been the way you shrug off your blazer in the late summer heat, folding it into the crook of your elbow and rolling your neck. It could have been the way you usually fumble to hold everything in one hand, always one cup, one paper bag, along with your purse, jacket, blue light glasses. Peppermint tea, he had found out when he had walked too closely past you one day. You were delicately trying to pry the lid from your cup to let the drink cool andâeven through the maskâhe had smelled the fresh aroma of it. He lists all the possible causes of his interest as if there is some hidden, puzzling meaning behind them. Realistically, itâs probably just because he finds you real fucking pretty.
Whatever the reason, he has formed some strange one-sided connection with you. You havenât noticed him, maybe you never will, because he sits in the darkest corner of the shop, hood pulled over his head and medical mask in place whenever he isnât eating or drinking. Heâs been reading a lot recently, James Patterson, John le CarrĂŠ, but George R. R. Martin is his current. Itâs a welcome change of pace. And a good excuse to spend the bulk of the afternoon here, nursing a black coffee and croissant BLT.Â
It's still summer and in central London, itâs sweltering. The cafĂŠ has their AC blasting, but as the sun dips low between the buildings it reflects off city glass and into the tiny shop, heating it like a microwave. The warmth feels oppressive today, even with his change to an iced coffee. The hoodie doesnât help. Thatâs one of the only downsides of being here; he canât shuck the damn hoodie. The tattoos would draw enough eyes, but the scars would make people stare. If thereâs one thing he canât stand, itâs people not minding their bloody business.
The ginger kid, Harvey, as his name tag says, sets an oscillating fan atop the espresso machine. Fat lot of good itâll do on a day like this. As if in spite of his inner dialogue, its artificial breeze flutters Simonâs bookmark right off the table and to the wood-panelled floor. Reflexes faster than his memory, he bends down to grab it and bites his tongue to fight back what would have been a rather nasty string of curses.Â
âYouâll have to watch it for a bit. No folding forward or back, or to the sides.â
âSo I canât even fucking move now, hey?â
âJust be careful. The stiches should hold, but I donât want you testing it, alright?â
Well now he had just gone and bloody tested it. Fucking hell. He had copious bandages overtop, but he needed to make sure nothing had pulled. If it had, heâd be sitting in a pool of his own blood by dinnertime. Masking another grunt of pain and fighting off his dizziness, he heads for the bathroom. No one will bother the shit on his table, the employees are usually pretty good about that.Â
The fluorescents flicker on automatically as the door shuts. He lifts his hoodie up and inspects the damage. Nothing is showing through, thank fuck. But he bets when he changes the wrappings later tonight, the gauze underneath will probably hold evidence of his stupid mistake.Â
He hates it, the wound. And hates himself for it. Itâs a reminder that heâs not invincible⌠that heâs anything but. That despite the skull mask and the layers of armour and the assault rifle slung over his shoulder, heâs only human. Weak. Heâs had injuries before, stabs and slashes and broken bones. But none quite so severe as one well-placed gunshot wound. Usually he bounces back pretty fast, but this timeâŚ
Simon hates the paleness of the face in the mirror. He thinks, just for a moment, of throwing his fist into the glass, just to rid himself of the reflection. Opting instead for a frustrated sigh, he rearranges the sweatshirt once more before throwing the door open and rounding the corner, stopping just inches from where you lean against the wall, waiting on the barista.
Fuck, he hadnât even noticed the time. Your back is to him and youâre on your phone, texting away. He snoops, just a little. Heâll reprimand himself for it later. Itâs your mother. Sheâs asking if youâve eaten and sending pictures of a mischievous looking grey cat. He watches your shoulders shake in a light laugh. Thereâs a lock of hair obscuring the pulse in your neck and he wants to brush it away.
Enough, you bloody creep.
âPardon,â he mumbles, pushing past you.
âSorry.â You press yourself close to the wall as he moves, barely looking up from the screen. He can smell your fragrance. Youâre so small compared to him; he canât stop himself from picturing what his hand would look like splayed possessively over the small of your back.
Fucking hell, he needs to stop.
Youâre oblivious to his thought process, engrossed still in the conversation with your mum. Only when the employee says your name do you look up, smiling even wider and profusely thanking as you reach for your cup. He likes your name, he thinks. It suits you. What would it sound like on his tongue if he said it aloud?
Heâs going bloody soft. Simon theorizes that Johnny is largely to blame. He had been introverted before that op, preferring to work alone, avoiding interaction with others unless completely necessary. Since then, he found himself missing the raucous laughter of the task force, the cracking of army humor jokes. He couldnât find it in himself to care much, though. After all, itâs not like it was making him any worse at his job.
His reputation had preceded him in the jungle. Once the cartel had caught wind of 141 touching down, they were talking about him, fear lacing their voices. El Crânio, they called him. The Skull. The kill count had been fucking brutal.
It feels strange to be thinking about that in a place like this. Itâs like two different lives that donât ever intersect. Three even, if he counts his real identity. Ghost, Simon, and William. Will is the name he gives to the barista here, the one on the bills that come to the flat, the one attached to the SIM in his phone, the one on the fake driverâs licence and motorbike certificate in his wallet. He hates it, but he wasnât the one who got to choose it.
He watches the way you play a coin from your change between your fingers, spinning it over the back of your thumb before catching it. You tend to fiddle with things while you wait: debit card, pens, hair pins, like your hands are aching for something to do. He can empathize. Heâs started biting his nails again.
The employees have worked fast today, and you have your tea and biscuit in hand in record time. It almost seems unfair. Five minutes he gets with you, watching at a distance. At least he knows heâll see you again tomorrow.
And he does. Again and again and again. Over a few weeks, the hole in his gut starts to heal, but itâs replaced with a new one. Something more insistent and far less easy to treat.
One day, youâre late. He starts to ruminate without meaning to but naturally, his mind goes down darker routes. He shakes the unwanted thoughts off, trying not to dwell on just how much they unnerve him. But you show up eventually, smile still plastered on. He wonders if itâs real.Â
âTheyâre extending my day,â youâre telling the server. âNot by much, just one or two hours.â Something about an expedited move from digital to hardcopy files. âAt least itâs overtime pay.âÂ
He doesnât like it. The days are getting shorter; itâs getting darker earlier. He doesnât like the idea of you walking home alone in the shadows of the London streets. Crime is on the rise; thereâs all sorts lingering around the city at night. But then again, it shouldnât bother him. Itâs not his commute; youâre not his.
He sticks around most days though, just to make sure you get out alright.Â
Today is different. Itâs different because itâs 19:00 hours and you have dark circles under your eyes and youâre staring at nothing in particular and when the barista hands you your drink you say thank you, but you donât smile. You always smile. And heâs trying to tell himself that itâs none of his business, that itâs not his problem but it is. Suddenly, itâs his biggest problem.
He holds the door open for you as you leave because itâs all he can do. You thank him, quietly, but donât even look up from the floor. He wonât follow you; thatâs crossing a line, a breach of privacy. So, he turns towards his own flat, looking back only once to see you disappear behind a street corner.
He sees your haggard face in his dream that night.
The next few days are more of the same. Even the coffee shop employees are starting to talk about it. How you look tired, shaky. Harvey talks about asking for your number as a way to cheer you up. The baristas all shut him down pretty quickly.
Weeks pass. Heâs almost done the Game of Thrones series. But youâre only getting worse.
Itâs October now, and the autumn chill is starting to set in. You wear a black trench over your office clothes, tugging it closed to fight the cold of the wind. Your eyes look bloodshot, hollow, like itâs been weeks since youâve slept. He knows the look intimately; he sees it enough in the mirror. Ginge has asked for your number anyway, and youâve politely declined. Ever the diplomat. He feels bad for smiling at the dismayed look on the boyâs face. Luckily, it hides behind his mask.
It rains the next day. Torrentially. Itâs the kind that can dampen a thick cotton sweater within seconds, so he begrudgingly takes an umbrella with him. The shop is warm and ambient, a world within a world. The coffee tastes better on a day like today, warm, bitter, and reviving. He loses himself in his book, looking up only to realize that itâs passed your time. He thinks for a moment that he might have missed you, but thatâs impossible. He could have blindfolds on and still feel your presence.Â
You havenât shown up. Thereâs a twist of something akin to anguish in his chest and he tells himself to calm down. Maybe they kept you late; youâll show up eventually.
Except you donât.Â
Soon, the workers are wiping down tables and raising chairs. He has no choice but to abandon his station and venture back out into the cold. Something is off. It might seem silly, but heâs learned never to discount his hunches. So, he sets up camp in the courtyard, umbrella obscuring what little is visible of his face, and he waits. And waits. And waits.Â
Itâs nearing 22:00 hours when you finally exit the elevators and break for the revolving doors. He knows something is wrong immediately, your feet are moving too fast and youâre casting glances over your shoulder as if youâre being followed. As soon as you exit the building youâre running, as fast as your heeled pumps can allow.
âFucking hell.â Heâs up within seconds, umbrella closed and leaving him open to the onslaught of rain. He jogs to try and keep up, a safe distance behind but youâre too fast. By the time he rounds the corner, heâs lost you.
Heâs checking each cross street, turning back on himself. The patter of raindrops is almost deafening, the cabs sending sprays of sludge up from the gutters as they race down the laneway. But through it allâas heâs been trained toâhe hears sounds of a struggle. A scream, half muffled. Itâs yours. He knows it immediately. Simon follows it as if heâs tracking you. One block north, one west. A half. Retracing his steps. Thereâs no sounds past the slick splash of car tires on wet asphalt. An alley lies to his left, no streetlights. Heâs about to venture down it when you come hurtling around the corner, straight into his chest. Your coat is ripped, hair soaking, and he swears thereâs blood on your clothes. Your tired eyes are panicked and laced with fear, looking at him with desperation. He doesnât have time to be shocked. Because from behind you comes a hooded man, tall build, muscular, though not nearly as big as him. Taking hold of your forearm, he draws you behind him. The man pauses.
âCan I help you?â Simon asks. His voice is anything but friendly. The man seems to size him up and decide the fight is unwise, turning on his heel and walking briskly back the way he came. Good. Heâd go after the guy, but he sure as shit isnât leaving you alone in the middle of the street.
You âre clinging to the sleeve of his hoodie and shaking like a leaf. He has slid into that lethal calm familiar to field work, assessing the location, noting information, protecting. Once the man is out of sight, heâs got your face in his hands and your skin is so soft but so cold.
âYou alright?â he asks, already fully aware of the answer. You canât even speak, barely looking at him, just back down the alley as if your pursuer might remerge. Shock, he thinks. What was he supposed to do with a civvy in shock? Get them to a safe place, speak calmly and stably, check for injury.Â
âRight, come on.â He pulls you lightly by the arm and you follow without much resistance, probably too weak to refuse. Like hell heâs letting you go anywhere by yourself right now. Itâs almost unsettling how small your wrist feels in his hand, fragile, too easily breakable.Â
His flat is warm, but youâre still shivering. Simon had deposited you on the couch after helping you shrug out of your destroyed jacket. A blanket sits around your shoulders now, and the kettle is boiling. Heâs retrieved his somewhat depleted med kit from the bathroom, kneeling on the floor in front of you. Distantly, he curses himself for not replenishing bandages from the drugstore. Thereâs a nasty cut on your upper arm, open and bleeding, a knife slash. Anger isnât something he can afford to feel right now.
âLetâs have a look,â he says, more to himself then anything. You havenât said a word to him. But when he dabs at the wound with clean gauze, you grasp at his forearm, inhaling sharply.Â
âI know. I gotta clean and stitch it though, alright?â Heâs never been great at patch ups, but he has been trained. He doesnât want to hurt you, but you canât keep bleeding either. Fucking hell, he wishes he had gentler hands. Or something stronger than ibuprofen.Â
âYou drink?â he offers. You nod. Good enough. He brings you back a glass of whiskey. You down it, wincing at the strength, offering the empty glass back to him. He takes it, placing it on the low table before assessing you again.Â
Clean. Disinfect. Needle, thread, vertical mattress stich. Under up, under down and tie off. This would be a breeze for the field medic. But his fingers are thick and much less nimble. You keep clutching at his arm through the sleeve, squeezing to stave off some of the pain. His eyes flicker up occasionally to check your face, but your own are tightly shut. He can tell youâre gritting your teeth, but you barely make a sound. Impressive, though itâs probably partially due to adrenaline. He ties off the final stitch. âDone.â
When you open your eyes thereâs relief in them. And a loosening of tense muscles that is worrisome because itâs happening too fast. Your upper body is swaying, and your features are going unfocused, and he knows what happens next.Â
He manages to cradle your head just before it hits the arm of the sofa.
Bloody fucking hell.
You wake up in a bed that isnât yours.Â
Itâs plain. In fact, the whole room is. Grey-brown drywall and exposed brick. White sheets, white bedspread. The only real piece of dĂŠcor is a bookshelf, spanning a considerable length of the wall, practically exploding with titles. What the hell?Â
You rise onto your elbows only to gasp in pain.Â
Itâs a nasty looking cut, red and swollen around the edges but tied together with neat stitches. The sight of it opens a floodgate of memories, one after the other, ending with the man who saved you, shrouded in darkness.
Shit. This wasnât good. None of this was good. You need your phone, but all of your belongings had been in your handbag, lost in that alley. You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, onto cool tile. Tiptoe out the doorway, taking in pieces of the quiet apartment as you go. Industrial design, morning light, a view of the city, a tiny cactus on the sill.
âYouâre awake.â The Manchester accent is heavy and laced with concern. You spin on the source only to stop dead.Â
His brown hair is so light it might as well be blonde, eyes dark with the shadow of lowered brows, skin peppered with pale pink scars. Prominent ones over his left eyebrow and bottom lip. The hint of a tattoo peeking out the collar of his t-shirt. Though eerily beautiful, his face is one that might send people running. But you find you arenât afraid of him, not in the slightest.
âYou wanna tell me what happened back there?â
If you liked it, please let me know! đŠś
#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley fic#simon riley fanfic#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod mw fanfiction#ghost fanfiction#ghost x you#simon ghost riley angst#ghost x reader#cod fanfic#cod x you#cod mw x reader#my fic#jreadswrites
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Okay, I know next to nothing about FNF (except that the little blue-haired dude is bisexual and used to be in a relationship with the little orange-haired dude, but is now in a relationship with the brunette girl) (and that's all very cute). So what exactly is the story with this Yourself character? Also, is he the same as Silly Billy?
OKAY so there's a lot to unpack with this question here-- first I'll give a little background on FNF itself:
The blue haired dude is named Boyfriend, and the brunette girl is called Girlfriend, the ginger guy is called Pico (but he's not important to this question). GF and BF are obviously together, hence their names (even though in their view it's merely coincidence).
Now, as you know, BF is in a relationship with GF, right? In their own universe, yes, but Yourself (AKA Silly Billy as he's so commonly nicknamed (due to the name of the song he appears in)) is an alternate universe version of BF. Yourself is from a universe where his GF (AKA Herself) died in a tragic accident of some kind (of which we don't know) and is left in tatters, quite literally. He is shown to be a tall, lanky version of BF who appears to have lost himself when Herself died, no longer taking care of himself.
BF is normally shown as short, and this is to show off his innocence, to make him appear cute and nice. Yourself has lost that innocence, appearing at his full height, his true height. He shows that he can still be seen as innocent in the middle of the song he sings with BF as he shortens down, but that doesn't last too long as he soon grows back to his full height with a nasty laugh.
In the song Yourself sings with BF there's a cutscene near the end of the song that includes a lyrical portion, and as Yourself sings you can see Herself for a split second as he sings the line "So stay awake just long enough to see my way". He's singing with her as she appears, and you can even hear her voice in the song- and this is because her spirit resides in Yourself's mic, you can even see it glow in the beggining cutscene of the song. These lyrics are also a nod to the original mod's creator that had first created Yourself, Divide, who sadly died in his sleep due to cancer.
Yourself sings to BF with such passion, such pain, it's almost like he's warning BF to cherish GF and not lose her like he did Herself. Here's all the lyrics in the song:
I'll make you say How proud you are Of me So stay awake Just long enough Too see My way
My way
Yes, these are a nod to Divide, but I also like to view them as a nod to Herself as well. Like Yourself wishes for her to be proud of him even if she's no longer with him, to stay awake just long enough to see how far he's come, and how far he's fallen.
Also, in the frame where you can see Herself behind Yourself you can also see that Yourself has tattered angel wings, possibly to infer that he's practically dead, or some type of fallen angel - possibly as a metaphor for how broken he is without GF.
Now, a good chunk of this is simply speculation as there isn't too much info on Yourself or his story. Though, I do hope we get more on him someday.
I hope this clears some things up!
#ask#jkl-fff#friday night funkin#fnf#fnf silly billy#fnf yourself#also worthy to mention that yourself is NOT a canon character! as said he's from a mod of the base game#also worth noting that all songs in the base game of fnf have no lyrical portions save for the tutorial song#so lyrics are RARE and for them to be sung so WELL? insane#please give the original song a listen!! it's SO worth it!#so uh. yea. this is the character i'm currently. obsessed with rn hehe#silly billy is just the name of the song he sings with bf and it's implied that the name silly billy is what herself used to call yourself
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1670's costume department being great OR how zofia's relationship with rozalia is reflected in her wardrobe
Zofia starts off as a very closed-off character with a morbid sense of humor and equally morbid religiousity. That's the thing that is the most visible about her. Over the course of the story she changes and grows, her bond to Rozalia changes her, makes her life better. And this is so very clearly seen in her costuming I couldn't not talk about it. Spoilers for the first season of 1670 ahead.
To start, the first two episodes. These show her in quite the same way - she is covered head to toe in black (and bits of brown) with a crucifix as her only jewelery. The fabric varies, of course, but the color stays the same old black. It may also connect her to Jakub, also covered in black as a priest. Thus, black shows not only her obsession with death but also her devotion to religion (in her second scene she literally lies on the floor like a cross chanting ave maria)
(not important, but i just love how Zofia and Jakub are mother and son in terms of looks. especially noticeable when they stand closely)
The third episode brings changes from the very beginning. This is when we meet Rozalia, and right away Zofia is different. Rozalia comes and brings the air of spring and violets; Rozalia comes and Zofia wears something white. (TBF this is an important day, a celebration of sorts, so white is sort f Moreover, she shows her skin - first behind a white collar (but we still see quite a lot of skin) and then we see her in her bedroom for the first time, and that's when we first see her that vulnerable - when she talks to camera of Rozalia bringing her worries. When everyone leaves, we see her in her bedroom again, holding Rozalia's finger, and again she is covered fully in black, maybe assuming she will not encounter her again.
Next two episodes we see none of their interactions, but Zofia is changed already. She begins wearing blue and violet - barely distinguishable from black in the candle light of her home at times which may be a coincidence and a trick of light yet may also symbolise that to her family she is the same, more or less. But in the light of day the blue and violet are bright and vibrant, as though she can't hide from everyone completely however she tries. And she does try - blue sleeves may catch your eye but the overcoats and overskirts stay black or dark.
The nest episode, Zofia starts talking about someone new in her life - yet with her husband entering and mentioning Henrik she changes it for their lives, life of the family. And telling this, she is wearing the same dress but even more open without a collar and seemingly vibrant (so bright it is noticeable even in the house - showcasing Aniela suspects something is going own?). Her crucifix is also higher on her chest and her caul/cap/hood is decorated. After meeting Rozalia she feels and is brighter, happier, and it is almost harder to hide.
(While this outfit does have a purpose in the episode, I do believe there was an opportunity to just let her wear the same black-and-white dress from the second episode. Or to make the lightning more similar to make her dress appear darker. So I think this isn't too much of a reach to say that this at least somewhat shows her changing because of the previously shown date with Rozalia.)
And finally, the last episode. The wedding. Time to wear the fanciest clothes. And not only Zofia wears a bright red dress, she also loses her caul/cap/hood exposing her bright ginger hair (perhaps a metaphor for her inner self being eager for some love and happiness that religion, marriage to Jan Pawel can't provide?). Her crucifix is quite high up this time as well and hangs on a string of white pearls, as compared to the previous black beads.
It could be noted that red symbolises love and passion, so not only is the color appropriate in the context of the wedding but also in the context of her love to Rozalia (and passion - having sex in your and your husband's bed while the husband could potentially come in is an interesting decision).
(just a note - when Zofia leaves with Rozalia, her overcoar has these cute hearts on it. she doesn't get an opportunity to wear it again.)
Although she loses Rozalia later (and drowns her sorrows in the tavern), her dress doesn't change. She is changed by their romance. Not her dress, not her hair, not her crucifix. Not one part of her that was changed by love is given up, whatever she says of family coming first for ever and ever.
What fucks me up the most is this final portait. It feels like some wwdits shit, I swear to gods. The way that she is changed and doesn't attempt to hide it and yet the portrait shows the early, unhappily married, closed-off version of her? And her dress is the one she was wearing during her first meeting with Rozalia? Insane shit. I understand that this has some white so this is probably supposed to be just her in her Sunday/good clothes; but also, I remember the sweater and earrings I was wearing on my first date with my first girlfriend. And I would believe Zofia does, too.
TL;DR: Zofia's outfits change during the 1st season of 1670 as her relationship with Rozalia grow; her life, as her dresses, become brighter and more colorful because of love she found; and the said love, however broken up they are in the end, stays with Zofia despite her choosing family over it. All the while she barely changes for her family.
#1670#zofia adamczewska#zofia x rozalia#aniela adamczewska#the team behind 1670 was so insane for this honestly#i was tearing up and choking on thin air because of the portrait btw#love myself some clothing symbolism and when it's also lesbian? let's just say i'm. unwell. because of it. deeply.#also i just love the unexpected old women yuri#when i first saw them i went a little insane because i assumed it was fandom speculation but 1670 is just that good#something something no love is wasted#however brief it was it mattered
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CONGREGATION OF MIDDAY, FAITH IN THE SUN
OVERVIEW
The Congregation of Midday is a religion that originated from the dark underground labyrinths of Lamai Nation. It was founded by humans who grew sickly from the lack of sunlight, so they began performing sun-worshiping rituals to heal themselves. Over time, these rituals expanded into a whole lifestyle and religious ideology.
Followers of this religion are called Middayists. The religion itself is sometimes called Middayism. Its symbol represents Luzkuroâs darkness on one side and Solahiâs light on the other.
While this religion began in southern Wokina, its followers have brought it to other regions over time. Middayist ideology is a hard sell in sunny regions, but has caught on in cold, dark regions such as the Shrieking Mountains and Waterwalk. Today, most Middayists can be found in Wokina and northern Noalen, but small populations exist on other continents as well. Followers are quite diverse in species, but itâs rare to see Middayist trolls, gorgons, cecaelia, or dworfs. Itâs no coincidence that these species are sensitive to sunlight, and this religion requires rituals that are difficult for them to perform.
MIDDAYIST BELIEFS
-The sun is a goddess called Solahi. This goddess gave life to all things upon Gaia and beyond, and continues to foster life. She can be equally benevolent and wrathful.
-Darkness is a malevolent god called Luzkuro. He slowly drains life from everything he touches. He is an unholy harbinger of sickness and death.
-Gaia is not a sentient being. It is only a dead rock, but Solahi has allowed life to grow upon it.
-Sunlight is holy. Heat is nurturing. Fire is purifying. Darkness is an unholy substance that must be cleansed with light each day.
-Pyriads are holy daughters of Solahi, worthy of reverence and tribute. To harm a pyriad is a sin.
-Fungus is the âMark of Luzkuroâ, a signal that his unholy energy has infested an area. It must be cleansed from living spaces and should not be consumed for food until it has been purified by light and flame.
-The dead should be burned so that Luzkuro cannot claim them. The souls of the cremated will ascend to the Realm of Light, while the souls of those left to decay will sink into the Realm of Darkness.
-Sunlight is a gift from Solahi, which she offers out of love. Those who become greedy and take too much from her will be punished with sunburns. Those with sunburns are forbidden from receiving her gift again until the burn fades.
-Fish, egg yolks, and mushrooms (purified only) are sacred foods blessed by Solahi and should be consumed daily for good health. Garlic, coconut oil, oregano, ginger, cinnamon, citrus, onion, and chili peppers are also considered healthy by Middayist doctrine. Conversely, cheese, yogurt, beer, wine, and most fermented foods should be avoided because they are tainted by Luzkuro, and cannot be purified by Solahiâs holy flame.
-Cleanliness and holiness are one and the same. Keeping a clean person and environment is of utmost importance. Filthiness is a sin. Followers should wash themselves each day to please Solahi and keep Luzkuro away.
-Sleeping on the floor is an invitation for Luzkuroâs influence. Followers should sleep in cots, hammocks, or otherwise be elevated at least a handâs length off the ground.
-Followers should show respect to their bodies by avoiding toxic substances such as alcohol and recreational drugs. Tattoos, piercings, and cosmetic surgeries are forbidden, as they offer unnecessary opportunities for infection.
MIDDAYIST RITUALS AND HOLIDAYS
MIDDAY WORSHIP: Followers congregate for an hour each day around noon to worship Solahi. They begin by stripping naked and going outside, so that the sunlight may directly touch their skin. They perform specific poses while they chant, ensuring that every inch of their skin is blessed by Solahiâs holy light. This segment of the ritual may last anywhere from 10-30 minutes, depending on how much sunlight is available that day.
Afterwards, followers put their clothes back on and begin the Feasting Ceremony, where they eat mushrooms, egg yolks, and fish. They believe that mushrooms are an unholy product of Luzkuro, but offer health benefits after being purified by Solahi. Middayists purify the mushrooms by cooking them over an open flame while they pray.
The most devout followers never miss a Midday Worship at their local church, but casual Middayists commonly attend just 2 or 3 of them a week, or simply perform the ritual at home.Â
This ritual may be performed differently depending on the region. Followers in cold regions, for example, usually do not remove all of their clothes for sun worship; instead exposing their faces only. Vegetarian followers exclude fish from their feasting ritual, while carnivores exclude mushrooms. Vegans exclude both fish and egg yolks, and only eat mushrooms.
SOLAHIâS GREETING: Each morning at sunrise, Middayists greet Solahi by striking a match and saying a prayer. The flaming match is believed to purify Luzkuroâs dark energy that has taken hold during the night. Before eating or doing anything else, a Middayistâs first act of the day should be to wash themselves.
SOLAHIâS GOODBYE: Each evening at sunset, Middayists bid Solahi goodnight by singing a specific hymn and cleaning their sleeping area. Typically this is done by flipping their mattress and pillow, shaking out blankets, and sweeping the floor. Any mold or filth should be removed immediately, as sleeping among Luzkuroâs influence will bring an early death.
52 CLEANSINGS: On the last day of every week, Middayists clean their living space from top to bottom. Once their environment is clean, they finish the ritual by washing themselves with purified water (water which is boiled with herbs and then cooled). These weekly cleansings add up to 52 per year. Each successful cleansing pleases Solahi, while sloppy or missed cleansings give power to Luzkuro.
SEASONAL FASTING: A seasonal fast is done 4 times per year, on the first day of each new season. On these days, Middayists fast for 24 hours, drinking only clear liquids like water and broths. This ritual is said to cleanse the body from the inside. More devout followers are known to take laxatives to purge their bowels more thoroughly.
YEARâS END: On the last day of the year, Middayists don pure white robes and congregate at their local church to honor Solahi with a large bonfire, where they burn cleansing herbs. The specific herbs may differ by region, but sage, lavender, and peppermint are common. Each Middayist writes down their sins, fears, and sources of stress on a paper card and throws it into the fire to cleanse their souls for the new year. The illiterate instead speak these things to the card.
The ceremony lasts from sunrise to sunset. During this time there is much dancing, singing, burning, and feasting upon sacred foods. At sunset, the big fire is finally extinguished with purified water.
CULTURE
Middayists are stereotyped as physically fit, health-conscious, and meticulously clean people. Some outsiders consider them to be neurotic, obsessive over their health, and obnoxious about their cleaning habits. Some Middayists look down upon non-Middayists, considering them filthy because they do not meet their religious standard of cleanliness. They can be seen as âstuck-upâ for avoiding drugs, alcohol, and body modifications.
Cleanliness is a big theme in Middayist doctrine because this religion was born from the dark, damp, Lamaish labyrinths, where many species do not fare well. Mold, disease, and vitamin deficiencies are serious dangers in this underground environment, so humans and other susceptible peoples had to take great measures to survive here. By incorporating good health and cleaning into religious practices, they were able to thrive.
The Middayistsâ strict diet and daily sun exposure protects them from vitamin D deficiency, while their rigorous cleaning protects them from dust and mold. Not all Middayists live in underground labyrinths like the Lamaish, but these practices are also helpful for those in wet, dreary climates.
Lamaish Middayists tend to take their religious practices more seriously, as they live in a less forgiving environment than most people. Followers outside this region are largely more casual about their rituals.
Many Middayist rituals and beliefs are incompatible with those of Vermists. As a result, there are many conflicts between the two groups. This conflict is most apparent in Lamai Nation, which has large populations of Middayists and Vermists living in close quarters.
SEE ALSO
Ask - Religion
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Questions/Comments?
Lore Masterpost
Read the Series
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wait aint no fucking way an actual genshin loretuber even jokingly acknowledged the rabbit hole insanity that is childe 3rd descender theories what the fuck.
is it finally legal for me to break my self imposed silence on the subject without publicly and shamefully removing all my credibility on genshin lore. please please . this is a super fucking vulnerable moment for me guysssss
(under read more bc full disclosure 100% i Will embarrass myself here. this is NOT on my top of the line Childe Theories And Analysis That I Will Defend In Court Under My Legal Name if Questioned list please understand. this is way more self indulgent and wildly speculative for me as much as i do Genuinely see there being a ground for the theory to stand on. ik when im off to the deep end JKWDKJJKWDJKWD)
like seriously be Aware this WILL be a complete mess btw you have all been warned so like no refunds accepted. if youd like to keep an image of me in your head where i am even slightly respectable and realistic when it comes to my theories please stay there. in the light. where the sun shines.
......
...
so. you have chosen death. o7
ok firstly. YES i KNOWW childe 3rd descender theory is batshit stuff thats Why i havent said shit abt it all this time bc i do Not trust myself to be truly objective on the subject bc i Want the theory to be real so bad so its like of course ill readily disregard all other possible candidates for 3rd descender bc bias. and also see it as more plausible that ajax has sth to do w that and make connections more readily. than any lore enthused person existing without his continued rent free existence in their brain for the last 3+ years. so like. yes. listen. i Know i know its prolly not real. but also i must # speak my truth .
anyway the vid didnt even fully touch on all the like. shady fucking shit when it comes to the Curious coincidences. bc like. so firstly the star thing and connections w childe
so wei did bring up the whole . ajax is released on patch 1.1 called "a new star approaches" (and also polar star is his sig) . except like Theres More bc while i was researching random childe brain rot stuff (sadly dont remember/have a link to where i first saw it) . that title in CN is even more pointedly About ajax bc apparently its about a "guest star". and a guest star again according to that post at least is specifically considered an omen of bad luck in chinese astrology. a guest star approaching = a disaster approaching. like mayhaps a ginger guy resurrecting osial or something . huh . maybe ajax Is the guestpilled starmaxxer in that title. the approacherrrrrr, even
secondly. there are some well hidden references to ajax As A Star in the fontaine AQ too. bc the act III where we go looking for him after he goes missing is called "to the stars shining in the depths" except again i have found a source (yes no link to it saved once again my bad) that its titled "to the morning star in the deep water" in chinese. which is again star singular. curious
then theres the act III official description. that goes "the moment it seized its destiny, the star quietly fell from its lofty perch". and like idk abt yall but if its fontaine AQ act III and you ask me WHOS out there seizing their destiny of all things. It Seems Somewhat Plausible To Argue that its PROBABLY referring to the guy thats out there getting teleported to the primordial sea to face the creature thats Literally etched into the stars as his constellation. like . i have a very Difficult time trying to see the star that is seizing its destiny at this moment as Anyone but him reuniting w the narwhal for the first time in a decade and his 1st thought is to throw hands JKJKWDJKWDJKWDJK
(also. "fell from its lofty perch". fell from where. falling towards where. mayhaps even................ descending?????? if Seizing your destiny is taking your fate into your own hands.... a star that Falls from its perch.... that Descends after seizing its destiny....... Curious is all i will say. hey guys do you think your vision would mayhaps begin rejecting you if you start seizing ur own destiny and thus failing to follow the "duty" of predestined fate that same vision had bestowed upon you. guys do you think a star that seizes its destiny and falls from its lofty perch would get vision error 404. guys----)
also this is a smaller thing bc i think ascension mat theories are largely fringe and not that reliable (ning guizhong reincarnation "theories" ThoseWhoKnow) but i do think it can be acknowledged as a sort of. Extension to all these curious references to stars and being A Star when it comes to childe. he does use Star Conches for ascension . so like it can be a little extra on top of the other more serious more Professionally Certified star things hoyo is curiously attaching to him
so like . a star. a star also being a thing the traveler is repeatedly called. its so quirky that this pattern continues. so thats one thing
oh and also. if childes the non-descender (bc he clearly hasnt regained that status Yet) reincarnated soul of the 3rd descender.
you know what. a dead star. if its massive enough. like perhaps massive enough in some genshin metaphysical fantasy way. to be a star that counts as a descender with a will that rivals a world. if a heavy enough. star. dies. you know. you know what they turn into---
[THERE IS A MAD GLEAM IN MY EYES. YOU HEAR BOSS MUSIC.]
Anyway Hello Dear Reader Of Mine Humble Blog Would You Like To Spare A Moment To Discuss How The All-Devouring Narwhal That Consumes Any And All Stellar Object Coming Into Its Orbit Also Known As Ajax' Reflection In Teyvat's Skies Is Essentially A Sentient Living Black Hole And How A Black Hole Is Formed When A Star Dies? No? Okay.
like wouldnt it be super fucking funny if the constellation of the dead descenders reincarnated soul is a creature that for all intents and purposes is a black hole. like. a dead star. wouldnt that be funny
and before you ask. yes i have thoughts that would make ajax & narwhal are soulmates slash halves of the same entity that remains fully compatible with the 3rd descender brainrot but i. will Not subject you people to that. theres "respectably self aware insane theory i indulge in but know the limitations of" and then theres "jens top 10 personal jenshin impact plot twist wishlist please fulfill mr dawei pwease i swear itll be peak" like ffs. it might seem otherwise given the words i am saying right now but i do have Some propriety
the divine halberd was shattered into NINE piece---- (GUNSHOT)
whoa. what a loser high on her own hopium i wonder who that was. good thing the snipers got her ass there
back to your regularly scheduled programming. obviously theres other things that would very conveniently be explained by this 3rd descender shit as well like. dead eyes. soul of a dead descender thats in Literal Pieces body wise. the dead star that carries a curse above ground upon first making contact with the truth of his being aka post abyss training camp post meeting his mirror imaged destiny in his narwhal. a curse like mayhaps bringing chaos whenever he goes. an incompatibility with the world. drawing everything into his orbit being the eye of the storm or perhaps... the Singularity???? the event horizon??? a source of endless unrest and disaster........ just like the curse of a gnosis TEE HEE .
anyway super funny how that goes. and then another thing wei didnt really. fully go into is naturally the
(DEEP BREATH)
3rd son of his family with 3 older siblings and 3 younger siblings 3rd limited character ever released with 3 names and the 3rd weekly boss with 3 phases each representing 3 unique sources of power (vision, delusion and foul legacy) a 3 petaled symbol aka the triquetra of riptide and six in-game constellations divided into 3 subgroups with 3 unique prefixes (foul legacy, abyssal mayhem, havoc in eng) 3 days missing from teyvat and 3 months spent in abyss is 3rd to wield foul legacy after surtalogi and skirk
also the first character to receive a 3rd rateup banner ANYWAY (also the possible. is the 3rd reincarnation of the original ajax thing. but yeas)
[Me When I'm In A Be Suspiciously Associated With The Number 3 Competition And My Opponent Is Childe Ajax Tartaglia]
isnt it just silly. how many times it comes up. Nobody talk to meeeee its so over
theres prolly some other things too that i have driven myself to madness with when thinking abt this but idr em right now and like . not like this is any manner of serious respectable theory anyway sooooooooo
anyway ill stop embarrassing myself now. like as i said i have been legally forcing myself into silence on this bc listen. i KNOW this is bullshit i KNOW im a deranged biased childe main who will do Anything just to cook up a fantasy version of genshins endgame lore where My Dude is at the center stage and gets to be a massive fucking deal yes 100% deserve to be disqualified on account of terminal stage blorbo bias when it comes to theories on the subject i just. the fact that this is the FIRST time i see Any loretuber person acknowledge the theory. i just had to come in here and let it be known that. Yes. ive been seeing this shit and thinking abt it SINCE 4.2 dropped since that stupid fucking note about forsaking the self and being reborn in the abyss as a holy infant or a primordial human or a descender and that somehow Thats called Ajax. of all things. its horribleeee it eats me alive
#(runs away and hides) btw you CANNOT come at me for this. i know i am saying deranged things i knooooowwww i just simply had to speak#with the many words and thoughts that plague my mind about this . i know its prolly not real at all#but also.... if its not real why are there all these strange thingsssssssss#why do things line uppppppppp im gonna cry#anyway. me when genshin loretuber does wild far fetched theory i dislike: omgg this is why i cant take this stuff seriously. be seriousss#me when genshin loretuber insane theory but its MY man and MY favorite insane theory: SPEAK THE TRUTH#i am such a hypocrite when it comes to ajax its actually embarrassing..................#like ive never even Watched any of weis vids before this but i saw this one and its instantly like YESSSSS IM NOT ALONE IN THE VISION#honestly i kinda just wish for my own sake that this all turns out to be as fake and far fetched as it feels sometimes bc like.#my egomania. if this is real. i will be the absolute worst i am terrified of even the thought of what a complete bitch i will become#if i actually call it JKDWJKJKDWJKEJKSFJKWDJKWJK#anyway#genshin#rambles#childeposting#long post
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DC/Danganronpa crossover part 4 <3
( Part 1 , Last , Next , Masterlist )
If this is the first one you've seen - I'm making a crossover of DC comics and Danganronpa by assigning the characters a vigilante that I think suits them
Time for Young Justice! I used drv3 characters for these guys and I haven't read the comics so some of this may not be 100% accurate
Red Robin - Shuichi Sahara
Most of my YJ were picked due to their connections with him, my Tim/Shuichi Reasoning is back in part 1
Superboy - Kaito Momota
- Dumb jock energy? (the two of them have really similar vibes imo)
- Incredibly homoerotic subtext with Tim/Shuichi, people often take it as a near-canon romance
- Astronaut / Half alien (space boys)
- K names (just a coincidence but its nice)
Impulse - Kokichi Ouma
Okay I know practically nothing about Impulse. I am going off of some fanon things I've seen and one clip from the yj show
- Pretty clever but too chaotic for people to notice
- That clip of impulse running away from everyone on the team reminds me of kokichi running away in the love hotel scene
- Pretty commonly shipped with Shuichi/Tim and Kaito/Kon, seen as a trio shipping or not
Wondergirl - Maki Harukawa?
The only thing I know ab Cassie is that she's Kon's gf. So sorry ab that, I didn't know who to put for Maki so I thought this worked
- warrior race and ultimate assassin
Miss Martian - Himiko Yumeno
Is she in the comics? Idk, I might me combining the comics and show but oh well
- A bit shy, doesn't really talk to people outside of their friend group much
- Miss M's powers feel a lot like magic, plus she can go invisible and Himiko was talking about making an invisibility spell
- I kinda wanted all the drv3 survivors on this team yk
- Short ginger hair
#dc comics#danganronpa#dc/danganronpa crossover#batfamily#tim drake#red robin#superboy#kon kent#dc impulse#bart allen#cassie sandsmark#wonder girl#miss martian#mgann morzz#shuichi saihara#kaito momota#kokichi ouma#kokichi oma#maki harukawa#himiko yumeno#danganronpa spoilers#danganronpa v3 killing harmony#danganronpa killing harmony#killing harmony#drv3#drv3 killing harmony#saioumota#timkonbart#harumota#koncassie
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so, i now have a third Fnaf related thing. until i come up with a proper name for it, i like to call it "This Is The Closest Y'all Are Gonna Get To Me Doing Canon Fnaf"
this is mostly the result of me seeing some Fnaf designs and concepts and realizing "oh i can just. do what i want. with canon at this point."
so have some fun facts!
half because i think it's a cool concept, half because i want to make the designs different between this au and the Rewrite, Mike and Cassidy are both biracial. why is Liz the only completely white kid in the Afton family? well...we'll get there in a bit.
y'know Andrew from the books? Vengeful Spirit of the books? yeah he's here. he was one of Mike's friends prior to Getting Murdered. also close to Cassidy, but y'know.
i'm making Charlie more transmasc. specifically, she figured it out pre-Murder, but didn't get to explore gender stuff as much as he wanted :/ (still transmasc bigender, though. just more transmasc)
MCI kids are a bit different. Fritz is still here, though!
it's basically like a fusion of some of my own ideas and Dual Process Theory's timeline (Mike is (one of) the Vengeful Spirit(s), Cassidy is CC + got springlocked, stuff like that).
Cassidy, mayhaps, witnessed Andrew's murder. maybe. and Mayhaps William did some gaslighting. maybe.
Cassidy knew all of the MCI kids, especially Andrew.
Michael Definitely Took Charlie's Death And Andrew's "Disappearance" Very Well And Didn't Start Lashing Out By Bullying His Brother. Definitely Not.
the other Fnaf 4 bullies were some other kids who were "in the wrong crowd," as some might say.
Liz Gets To Live Because I Said So.
so...Willry happens in this universe. William had a Technically Affair ("technically" because Claire didn't care. if her husband wants to [REDACTED] his business partner, that's none of her business. she just wants to raise her children. similar situation to Anna; she's a lesbian and hadn't figured it out yet so she just went "huh. i'm weirdly more chill with this than i thought i'd be"). one day, William just. shows up with Elizabeth claiming "Oh I found this poor baby abandoned on my way home from work :( Guess I better take her in :(( Please ignore the fact that she's a redhead with freckles like my business partner that's just a coincidence"
then Liz got older...and it was kinda obvious that she inherited some traits from William (Bunny Teeth and the Bunny Ear Hair Things). so now it's a lot harder to just claim that it was a coincidence. the fact that Liz also had Henry's green eyes just made it ten times worse.
William ignored the rumors...and then a woman who worked at the Diner (Tammy Schmidt), who had ginger hair, green eyes, and freckles, claimed that she was the mother of Liz. so...Henry doesn't get outed as transmasc! yippee!
Claire divorced William (in 1981) because she did NOT like him roleplaying Icarus so hard and wasn't going to stick around to watch him inevitably fly too close to the sun. she was going to get her life together before deciding to take the kids (not Liz because. well, Liz isn't her biological daughter. this isn't to say that she doesn't consider Liz as effectively being her own child, but like. y'know. Not Her Kid Biologically Speaking), but uh. she ended up getting into a car accident only a few months later. RIP Claire đ
William, being the "very reasonable" man he is, got drunk one night (because this man took the divorce Really well (sarcasm)), and because he internally blamed Henry for this mess (like he wasn't the guy who decided an affair was the greatest idea), and murdered Charlie. (which is partially why she's so pissed at him in this au; because he had the gall to take his anger towards Henry out on her. not that she would've liked it any better if he did take it out on Henry, but y'know).
the first four MCI kids (Bea, Fritz Jr., "Gabriel"/Gabi, and Isaac) were a mix of "William's on a minor power trip of sorts," "William unfortunately discovered the fact that he finds murder fun and now everyone's suffering," and "William isn't done hurting Henry. This time he's hurting Henry's business." Andrew's death was due to a minor argument that started between him and William over how Michael was doing that kinda. Escalated. William knocked Andrew out on accident, and then he went "okay guess i'll murder him now." so he springlocked Andrew. and Cassidy kinda witnessed it.
the Fredbear plush was a gift from Charlie and Andrew. Andrew partially possessed the plush to keep an eye on Cass and Mike (and it then led to him witnessing Mike being a dumbass for the next two years).
so...Mike, Andrew, Charlie, and Sammy were all around the same age (12-13) when the Murders happened in '81. so uh. Mike maybe had a crush on Andy that he never got to tell them about. he definitely doesn't have any regrets about that!! no siree!!
by the time Fnaf 2 was going on, Mike was kind of. spiraling. he recognized Jeremy as one of the few people who was nice to him after Things Went To Shit, so they started talking at work, crushes developed...and then almost half a year later, when Jeremy had started healing somewhat, they kinda went "hey we're adults. let's go to Nebraska." and then they did that. Mike had that sort of Mini Crisis that some traumatized young adults have where it's like. he has agency. he can do whatever. so he cut his hair a bit, dyed it bright red, got a tattoo on his chest, all that stuff. didn't call his dad at all during this. sort of started realizing how fucked up his childhood was. also met Tammy again, and she helped the two of them. Mike kinda changed his last name to hers, both because he viewed her as a mother figure and also because he did Not want to risk people finding out who he was.
Phone Guy survives. fuck it. he did kinda get maimed, though. unfortunately.
Mike found out about MCI stuff around the time of Fnaf 1. he was Not happy.
you now get: Charlie fun facts!
decided to give her both "weird girl" and "tomboy, but there's transness there" energy.
style vibes are sort of like. a mix of punk, "this looks like it's vaguely steampunk," and flannels. mostly because that's the kind of clothes he had readily available to him.
feral. extroverted introvert. she's even autistic. does the wildest shit and pulls Mike, Andrew, and Sammy along with him. sometimes even Cassidy (even though Cassidy was like a toddler at this point; three years old).
also just. really fucking petty and sassy. responded to a bully who was being homophobic and transphobic with, what effectively amounted to, the early '80s middle school equivalent of "You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid. đ"
still very protective over people, and a sweetheart. if it isn't obvious, i love this au version of Charlie. my beloved.
one time got some weed from a high schooler and went "hey guys wanna smoke this in the backroom at Freddy's on Friday night?" and then Mike and Andrew went "Fuck Yes." Sammy acted as the guard to the room. Henry and William were busy at Fredbear's, so they left one of the more reliable teen employees in charge for the evening. he walked in on those three smoking weed, was told "please don't tell our dads," shrugged, and just left. didn't say a word to Henry or William about it. Cassidy also walked in on it, but he wasn't going to snitch on them regardless. mostly 'cause he was three and didn't even know what they were doing to begin with. in Charlie's words, "8/10 experience, would do again."
just the most chaotic child imaginable. i've seen enough 80s movies to think that Charlie, a 6th grader, probably would've been believably this chaotic. like. you don't know how many movies where "kid in the age range of middle school to high school discovers weed and then proceeds to smoke some out of curiosity" was like. at least a minor plot point or scene. i also included this because I Can And It's Funny.
this song fits him perfectly. i'll let you listen to it to understand why, but. That's Just Her In This Au.
also, as for who the Vengeful Spirits/Ones William Should Not Have Killed are, here they are from Least Vengeful to Most Vengeful.
Charlie: doesn't hate William; just in UCN to do the ghost equivalent of kicking William in the balls repeatedly before leaving, hopefully with everyone else in tow.
Cassidy: Got Springlocked. also angry on behalf of his friends.
Andrew: also Got Springlocked. just pissed at William in general.
Mike: William killed him in the fire (neither he nor Henry planned for Mike to die this time. he tried to leave, but William didn't let him), William technically got him killed by sending him into the now-abandoned Freddy's, where the spirits (minus Andy, Cass, and Charlie, aka The Spirits Who Would've Recognized Him), confused, basically mauled Michael to death, where he then crawled out onto the streets and died. Charlie found him and brought him back, though. Mike's just pissed in general from where William basically ruined his fucking life. he'll probably be the last soul to leave.
also...if you're curious, i can tell you why the souls would see Mike and think he'd be William, when William would already be dead and springlocked at this point (something that they all witnessed, mind you). :]
Ough... like George I am a curious little monkey. Please tell me more ehehehe
#CHARLIE IS MY CHILD THAT IS MY KID NOW HOLY SHIT MY BELOVEDDD#the clown! it speaks!#the clown! it answers!
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What the hell are Sephiroth and Genesis wearing in Dissidia and Dirge of cerebrus? Parade outfits?!
Sephiroth's outfit didn't change TOO much apart from this incredibly flamboyant curtain-thing and a few dangly-bits on his wrists.
Genesis, however...I don't even know what he's going for here. He's grown out his depression-hair to frightening levels. I guess he stopped tending to it after losing both his friends and heading underground for his nap. The weird gothic straps though? No clue. I assume it's to coincide with the gothic vampiric element the game has, but he mostly just looks kind of...well dumb. He looks dumb.
And a lot less ginger??? I guess they modified some things for CC's design. Probably for the best. Gackt manages to pull off the look in live-action at least.
#asks#ff7#ffvii#crisis core#final fantasy 7#sephcanons#sephiroth#genesis rhapsodos#dirge of cerberus
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did i mention i love kyman crossovers? i have come up with a kyman au that is a crossover with infinity train.
first of all if someone has no idea what infinity train is, thatâs a cartoon about an odd train with an endless amount of cars in it. people get to this train suddenly, and they have a green flashing number on their hand, each is individual. it represents the main psychological trouble a person has. number can go up and down depending on how far a person is from solving the problem. the main aim of the train is to help ppl solve their trouble and make peace with themselves. (for example the main character of season 1 was a girl whose parents were divorced, and she blamed herself for that. she could only get off the train when she realised sheâs not responsible for their decision and sometimes things change for the better)
so basically m4 + butters got to the train to the different cars each, but eventually they would find each other. i think first of all kyle found someone like butters or kenny, and cartman found stan. they would wander around through all those cars trying to understand the meaning of the numbers. when they finally all met up they saw that everyoneâs numbers are different (butters has the biggest one and kenny has the least one) except for kyman because they share the same number. and it really pisses them off, because they have no idea why the hell they have something (anything) in common. so theyâd start arguing and fighting AND THE NUMBER SUDDENLY WENT UP.
cartman: Aye! Are you copying me or what?
kyle: What are you talking about, Fataâ oh! Your number! The same as mineâŚ
cartman: Yeah, Kahl, thatâs what I wanted to ask you about!
kyle: I have no idea why it is this way. Probably a coincidence?
cartman: What are the odds of this, huh?
kyle: I donât know! And fuck off already, Iâm already pretty sick of hearing you again.
cartman: Youâre sick?? Iâm the one who is forced to stay in a godforsaken closeted space with fucking Kyle!
kyle: Ughhh, it was much better to walk with Kenny, you fat fuck.
cartman: Yes, I also prefer Stanâs company muuuch better! âŚWait.
kyle: Huh?
cartman: The number. It changed. It was 167 and now itâs 176!
kyle: âŚMine tooâŚ
cartman: So they are connected.
kyle: I guess they areâŚ
cartman: Oh, screw it, now my number is connected to the jewâs number! Thatâs not good, I swear itâs a bad luckâŚ
kyle: Shut up already, would you?? Iâm trying to think. You made our numbers go up.
cartman: Oh, so now itâs my fault?!
kyle: Whose else could it be?
cartman: My number was totally fine until I met you! I bet you did something to it and now because of your tricks Iâll never leave that train and never go home and that means Iâll never eat my goddamn KFC dinner my mother had promised me today.
kyle: Oh, so thatâs the only thing that bothers you??
cartman: No, it actually bothers me a lot that Iâm stuck here with you, of all people!!
(lmao btw the numbers are not random, 167 is a number of s16e7 âcartman finds loveâ and 176 is âginger cow :D)
so they fight a lot and their number goes up and up, and then cartman does one small nice things for kyle and number goes a but down, so he realises the number depends on their friendship??? so he starts using it trying to act nice and good to kyle (not genuinely ofc)
cartman, opens the carâs door for kyle: After you, my dear friend.
kyle: What are you doing?
cartman: What? Just trying to help you, thatâs all.
kyle: âŚYou enter this one first.
cartman: What. Why?
kyle: I donât trust you. Itâs probably the most dangerous one and you just want to lock me there or something.
cartman: Why would I do that, Kahl?
kyle: Because you hate me.
cartman: Thatâs not true! Itâs just friendly fighting, nothing more. Come on, Kyle, Iâll help you with that car! Hey, and did I mention you look sooo great today?
kyle, raising an eyebrow: The fuck are you talking about? Whatâs the catch? And why do you keep looking at your number?
cartman: Oh my GOD! Canât I just be nice to you for a goddamn minute without you suspecting me of some delusional ideas, you fucking jew?!
kyle: I want to know why youâre nice, because I will never believe youâre genuine about that.
cartman: Oh, for fuckâs sake, just keep going!
and he realises it doesnât work until itâs sincere.
so it takes them about two months to fix their friendship and be honest about it. that they donât actually hate each other, that they have much more in common than they thought. and then theyâre stuck at something like 10, for, um, two weeks. nothing they do can change their number no matter how nice and good they are to each other. the thing is the train wanted them to be honest to themselves, and they couldnât do it without admitting they like each other more than friends :3
AND OH GOD PLS TELL ME IT DOESNâT SOUND DELUSIONAL AND CRINGE BECAUSE IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS SHIT FOR LIKE THE WHOLE DAY.
#south park#sp#eric cartman#kyman#sp kyman#kyle x cartman#kyle broflovski#cartman x kyle#kyman headcanon#sp cartman#sp kyle#kyman crossover#infinity train#I LOVE STUPID CROSSOVERS#idk if anyone here has even watched both infinity train and south park but
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uhhh what would ur other ocs think of gort (me personally i love thinking about how he would break each one of my characters mentally & physically in a way specifically crafted entirely for them but thatâs not an ask i should send i think)
so i thought the question was âhow would gortash manipulate your ocsâ and answered that question as well so. youâre getting the answer to both cos i donât wanna delete. its kinda long so đ
Leo Hawke, Dragon Age 2: kill kill kill bite devour mutilate. Gortash is everything he hates and everything she wants to be. cool, commanding, smart, feared, respected, loved, powerful. swag off the charts, i know heâd love the outfit.
How heâd manipulate him: easy. kill the only family he has left, Anders and Isabela, or keep them from her. actually yeah locking Anders up in solitary confinement, somewhere he spent an entire year before, that she regularly holds him about when he gets claustrophobic or has nightmares about. the thought of Anders in a small dark cell all alone with his thoughts would break him and heâd simply do Anything to ensure heâs not in there a moment longer than he has to be :/ that being said her first instinct would simply be to kill the man, and heâd definitely try, even if itâs a dumb idea. and honestly not to hype my own oc up too much but if anyone could, itâd be her. one woman (not really a woman) army of a reaver when a loved one is on the line. monster. could probably cleave his way through a dozen lackeys and at least 2 steel watchers solo before getting tired, and thatâs only if theyâre even in the way.
Slater Adaar, Dragon Age Inquisition: sheâd be smart enough to know to be terrified of him. just be a useful tool while keeping as much distance as possible and keeping an eye out for the exits at all times. run at the first opportunity, no heroics.
How heâd manipulate her: i am realising i donât actually know her all too well. autistic qunari sera romancing artificer pursedog butch lesbian who just wants a normal life away from politics and armies and magic and sainthood, damnit. thatâs all iâve really got on her. so, i guess using the promise of a normal life. tell ya what, sheâd make a great deep cover secret agent. she is definitely an oc i could stand to make more interesting lmao
Vice, Skyrim: competition, quite simply. he has a thing about dragon imagery, right? subtler than the sun stuff, but itâs there? but is it about being a dragon himself, or subduing them. either way, theyâd scoff at his posturing. underestimate him for sure, letting their ego and lack of respect for humans stop them from being smart. they have lawful evil no empathy aroace megalomaniac in common, so theyâd definitely have an interesting time together :)
How heâd manipulate them: power. specifically the power to do their human experiments in peace. freedom from legal consequence, basically. it would be difficult to dominate or even get a good read on Vice and their desires tho, even for Gort. i mean. they donât speak. and have pretty good control over their emotions. theyâd be playing psychological 4D chess and it would be so entertaining. (remembers it doesnât have to manipulation, it can be about breaking physically) OH YEAH. YEAH thatâs the one. it would still be HARD to keep them down, draconic force of nature that they are, but iâm sure the gorster would be able to figure something out.
uhh . oh man is that all my ocs. i mean no, thereâs my newish tav, âwe have Romeoâs zeke at homeâ Ginger (half elf, same face shape, ranger, shart romancer??! i promise this is a coincidence idk how it happened) uhh i have a Khajit oc iâve never talked about whose name is Ace and i have nothing else on him. OHHH GALE MY DRAGON AGE CIRCLE MAGE OC WHO DIDNâT WORK AS SURANA. uhh yeah heâd simply have no use for that old woman sorry. i need to change her name man canât let her get confused with the bg3 wizard.
how could i forget Jack, Jack Valentine, my gta 5 guy iâve had for like 3 years and also never once talked about despite loving him forever even if iâve kinda forgotten him lately cos i havenât played it in ages. kind of a self insert type, or at least the closest oc i do have to one, so. heâd make an alright lackey, i think. heâd probably hate the gort but ultimately fall for his shit after a while. like with gale heâd be very disposable.
man i need to think of better ocs these guys are boring
#uhh letâs see whoâve we got#leo hawke#slater adaar#vice#oc ginger#girl i guess#your daily dose of idiocy#asks
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