#for clarity's sake i don't think all of these are going to turn out to be foreshadowing in the long run

[nonsensical-shitposting]

Decided to comb through a few separate playthroughs of Indigo Park with the intention of tracking down potential bits of foreshadowing that I haven't seen anyone recognize as such yet. Here's what I've got in no particular order, along with a few accompanying theories:

The player's screenname on the Discord expy seen in the opening cutscene is eEnsign. My first instinct is to say this is just a hint towards their surname, as their presumable first name is Ed and Indigo Park has already established a precedent for alliterative names: so, their full name could be "Ed Ensign." I do think there could be more to it symbolism-wise, though, so I'll just leave you with these definitions I grabbed from Wiktionary and let you come to your own conclusions about the potential implications for Ed's backstory, narrative role, and/or fate:

Could just be me reading too much into it, but Rambley's "or did you just get plastic surgery?" joke may be a hint that Ed will suffer some form of facial damage or alteration in a future chapter.

The power generators don't feel like they were "originally" part of the park, but rather seem to me as if they were a more recent addition- the only question is when and why. Rambley says the employees stopped showing up before the guests, so maybe they were installed during the time before the last employees ditched the park in an attempt to keep it functioning in their absence for as long as possible. Alternatively, maybe Mollie made them after the park was evacuated: she's already been established as good with machines, assuming her plane-building habits carried over from the character to the mascot.

Salem's cardboard cutout is bisected at the waist, which could be a hint that a similar fate has befallen the "real-world" mascot (there's precedent for this sort of foreshadowing with the headless Mollie standee at the park entrance). Similarly, on the cluster of screens Rambley appears on after the Rambley's Railway section the screen over where his right eye "should be" is noticeably deactivated, which could be a hint that his mascot counterpart (if it exists) is missing its right eye. Alternatively, Rambley might suffer a similar kind of damage in a future chapter- in that case, I'd interpret the potential foreshadowing more metaphorically in that the damage'll leave him "half-blind" in a sense, such as something that knocks out most of the park's security cameras or just locks him out of using them.

I think the general consensus by this point is that the Critter Cuff's resuscitation ability Rambley mentions will be unlocked and/or come into play somehow in a future chapter, but I haven't seen anyone dwelling on the implications of this- or, rather, the implications of this coexisting with how we've seen Rambley simply unlock a higher access level on Ed's cuff with zero physical modification to the device and no on-site capability to physically modify the cuffs that we've seen yet. I don't think it's a stretch to suggest that the resuscitation ability is likely pre-installed on all Critter Cuffs but only gets unlocked for the higher access levels, which. Y'know. Doesn't say great things about how Indigo Park treats its human employees or its customers. (I'm not saying this is a plausibility issue, mind you- as far as we know, Indigo Park is located somewhere in America- but still!)

I've watched over the scene where Lloyd attacks Ed multiple times now, and it looks to me like Lloyd specifically goes to grab at his nose/muzzle area when the Critter Cuff starts emitting the high-pitched frequency that drives him off. Building off of this and the fact that Mollie appears to be bleeding from her beak immediately prior to and throughout her chase sequence, my theory is that the park set the mascots up with some kind of multi-component implant located in the nasopharynx and Eustachian tube, and the implants themselves are what triggers the Critter Cuff to start emitting what I'm just going to refer to as "the deterrent frequency" from here onward for simplicity's sake. My best guess would be that the implants and Critter Cuff work in tandem via proximity detectors in both the implants and the cuff, which are in turn linked back to the heartbeat monitor and mood ring features of the Critter Cuff to determine whether a visitor seems to be in danger of being attacked by a mascot and automatically sets off the deterrent frequency if these conditions are all simultaneously present. (Granted, this does seem a bit advanced for the time period if we're working under the assumption that this was all developed before the park closed down in 2015-ish, but Rambley's AI would also be anachronistically advanced for even the present day, let alone 2015, so I don't think it's a stretch to say that Indigo Park was working with some pretty cutting-edge technology before its closure. Either that, or the Indigo Park universe is just more technologically advanced than ours.) If I'm right about the implants/their placement, the deterrent frequency probably drives the mascots off via both the high-pitched noise we already know of that hurts their ears and by screwing with their middle-ear pressure... which I think would induce some form of barotrauma in the long run, especially if it's repeatedly used? I'm not a doctor and I don't know if the game's going to go that deep into scientific explanations, though, so don't take my word for it without researching the topic yourself and/or seeking input from an actual medical professional.

Anyway, working from this assumption about how the deterrent frequency functions, this suddenly explains the apparent weirdness in Mollie's chase sequence. It seems clear that she was watching when Ed's cuff set off the deterrent frequency to drive Lloyd away, which would've tipped Mollie off that the deterrent frequency is still functioning; I think that this led to her deciding to tear out her implant beforehand. This would explain why she's visibly bleeding in the leadup to the chase sequence and why Ed's Critter Cuff never emits the deterrent frequency when she first appears or starts chasing them down, and it also explains the different high-pitched frequency heard at the very end of the chase sequence: based on the above theory, my assumption is that Rambley tried to set off a backup deterrent frequency to get Mollie to leave (which didn't work because Mollie tore out her implant), and when that failed he panicked and slammed the door shut.

I feel like Ed having been employed on the spot by Rambley is going to be of major relevance later. If it ends up being important for the ending, maybe there'll be some kind of weird legal loophole where, due to Ed being the only person working at Indigo Park at the time, ownership thereof automatically defaults to them? If the full game has multiple endings, this would also be an easy way to make choice-based multiple endings work, as if you do something that rubs Rambley the wrong way he could easily send security recordings of Ed breaking into Indigo Park to the authorities to ensure Ed can't exploit the loophole to gain ownership of Indigo Park, while on the flipside having Ed's hard work pay off with them getting rewarded for helping Rambley restore the park (rather than the company just swooping in after the fact to reassert control and reaping the benefit of Ed's work while Ed gets nothing but a fine for trespassing) could be a nice way to close things out... or alternatively, it could be a conduit for an anticapitalist "you cannot fix the system by working within its constraints, the whole rotten edifice must be dismantled" message, especially if Ed turns out to be more of a morally-gray character than we thought.

This is more instinct than anything else, but the references to Indigo Park as a "kingdom" that appear in the trailer and in Rambley's song feel like something that's going to be a recurring thematic motif rather than just a metaphor that gets used in a few throwaway lines. Not quite sure what relevance this could end up having, though.

I don't think I'm the only one to have noticed this, but Rambley seems to have a tendency to become more animated and use more in-between frames the more he opens up and/or deviates from what was likely programmed into him. However, I don't think this is an automatic or unconscious thing, but is instead an active choice to communicate genuineness and sincerity. He has been left running without pause for almost eight years, which as far as I know is Very Bad for computers, so if anything I'd be shocked if he had the remaining system resources to fluidly animate himself 24/7; as such, I think he physically can't do the higher-quality, more fluid animations all the time, so he chooses to save them for when it "matters" most.

[kozachenko]

And now for Zanmu, who I am having issues with stylizing her face in my current style because I am a perfectionist and have very high expectations for when I draw my favourite characters lmao.

Artist's notes;

Continuing from my New Year Keiki piece, I once again took a crack at simplifying shapes with this piece by focusing a lot on silhouettes. I really, really, really love how the shapes of this piece turned out. I didn't do any proper rendering with this and there are a few details I omitted from Zanmu's design for the sake of clarity (and also, my sanity), but overall I love how this turned out. I had so much fun with using her shirt's sleeves to create a blocky silhouette, and I am so happy with how I did her hair. This is around the time where I realized that I don't need to render every single strand of hair, and I am so happy I realized that because it has helped me in my art process so much. I also really like the colour palette for this, it was kinda inspired by the Zorn colour palette for this, and I wanted to use solid black for some of the shading since I liked the contrast it provided. I also experimented with giving her tanner skin and once again it helped in unifying the colour palette a lot. While I do wish I could make Zanmu look a little older with her face, I do like how simplified I made it. I also gave her a white undershirt, mainly from a "how does this outfit make sense" perspective because I can be a bit of a stickler for that sometimes lol.

Now to just talk about Zanmu a little more because she has officially supplanted Keiki as my favourite Touhou character and I love thinking about her. So first of all, every time I come back to Touhou 19's story and dialogue and I read any scenario with Zanmu in it, I just appreciate her more and more.

Like, take this piece of dialogue from if Zanmu wins in Saki's scenario.

This has the same vibes as a villain in a shounen anime saying to the protagonist, "get up" and then taunting them while they're injured from their fight on the ground. Zanmu is what would happen if you shoved a shounen villain into Touhou project, she goes into monologue's about how she's basically won before literally every fight against her in everyone else's scenario.

Also, I can't get over this moment from Mamizou's scenario.

This makes me want a short Touhou story where Mamizou convinces Zanmu to come with her to the outside world to show her modern things and Zanmu just...has no fucking clue what's going on. Keep in mind, Zanmu has been staying in Hell for thousands of years at this point, and aside from Hecatia raiding three Hot Topics at once every now and then, Zanmu has no idea what the modern world even looks like.

What I'm trying to say is, I wanna see Mamizou give Zanmu a bag of doritos, they should go on a road trip around modern Japan together.

Also, I'm calling it now, if we ever get a new fighting game with both Zanmu and Yukari in it, people are gonna make memes and shitposts about Yukari showing Zanmu a train for the first time....by throwing one at her....

[rainbow-nerdss]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Enjoy this hit from the bucktommy pit I've fallen into over the past few days! 💙💙

“Eddie gave me a shovel talk, you know?” Tommy says, next time they get together. They're at Buck's again, and Buck is cooking for them. He drops the spatula at Tommy's announcement, spinning to look at him. “He what? Jesus, I am so sorry, he shouldn't have—” “It's fine,” Tommy assures him. “It was cute. He cares about you.” Buck snorts. “Sure. He hasn't scared you off, at least?” "Nah, trust me, I've sparred with the guy enough times to know I can take him if I need to.” Buck raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn't underestimate him. That guy knows how to fight dirty. Trust me. He's scrappy.” “Scrappy, huh?” Buck turns back to the pot and stirs it again. “Hey, come taste this?” He holds out a spoon. Tommy joins him at the stove, standing far closer than necessary, almost flush against Buck's back as he takes the spoon in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “Delicious,” he announces. “Is that Bobby's Chili?”  Buck nods. "Yup!" “Man, he was always so secretive about that!” Tommy complains. “How'd you talk him into sharing?” “Pays to be the favorite, I guess!” Buck preens. “So, what? Eddie suddenly decided to go all white knight protecting my virtue now I'm dating a guy?” He asks, steering the conversion back around. Tommy leans against the countertop beside Buck. “Nah, nothing like that. He just said that… He reminded me, forcibly, that you're a good guy, and I should probably refrain from hurting you, if I can help it.” Privately, a part of Buck glows at the knowledge that Eddie did that for him, even while he plans to rip him a new one for interfering. “I should clarify, Evan. I'm not… I’ve mentioned Victor, right? My ex?” Buck nods, turning to face Tommy in order to give this his full attention. “He sort of… did a number on me. Meeting you, doing… this, it's great. I'm just not…” “You're not ready for something serious,” Buck realizes. Tommy nods. “But, what we've been doing so far…?” “Is great! The dates, the, uh… other stuff, all amazing, but—” “You just don't want anything more serious than that.” “Exactly. If that's a deal-breaker, I can—” “No!” Buck rushes, putting a hand on Tommy's chest. “I mean, this is good for me too. Takes some of the pressure off, actually.” Tommy visibly relaxes, and Buck takes a moment to turn down the heat on the stove, leaning further into his space. “You said you were a relationship guy,” Tommy says, clearly wanting to make a hundred percent sure. Buck does him the courtesy of taking a moment to consider his answer. “I used to think I was. I thought my options were either ‘serious relationship’ or ‘meaningless sex that left me feeling like crap’.” He steps closer, close enough that he can feel Tommy's breath ghost across his skin. “But lately I've been discovering the joys of things being… somewhere on a spectrum. Keeping things fluid.” “Yeah?” Tommy asks, moving even closer. They might as well be kissing now, but they aren't quite, just a hair between them. “Yeah,” Buck repeats. “Though,” he adds. “For the sake of clarity. When you say other stuff, is that referring to the flying lessons you still owe me, or—” Buck pulls away just a fraction, just enough to allow Tommy the opportunity to reach out and keep him there, pulling him back into a dizzying kiss.

Tags:

I was tagged by @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon and @bidisasterbuckdiaz

And tagging:

@theotherbuckley @aspecbuddie @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 @neverevan @loserdiaz @goforkinard @kwills91 @trenchcoatsandtimetravel @devirnis @steadfastsaturnsrings @sunflowerdiaiz @lover-of-mine @liabegins @lovelettertothewise @slowlyfoggydestiny @buddieboos @shitouttabuck @pirrusstuff @jesuisici33 @nmcggg @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @your-catfish-friend @eightpackdiaz @gigi-gigi @bisexualbuckleys @loveyouanyway @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @arachanae

[maybe-im-dark]

X-Men Origins: What if?

What if Logan had decided to willingly become Strykers weapon in order to not have his memories erased and to protect Victor and the lives of innocent?

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Erase his memory."

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding harder than the pain in his bones. The idea of losing his memories, everything that makes him who he is—his past, his love for Kayla, his brother Victor—it’s too much. For a moment, rage flickers through him, his claws twitching beneath the restraints.

But then something shifts. Instead of the violent fury that usually drives him, a rare moment of clarity cuts through the pain. He knows Stryker is dangerous, manipulative. But if he lashes out now, if he fights, Victor—his brother—will be in danger. And innocent people will keep getting hurt. He can’t let that happen.

Logan forces himself to relax, though his body screams at him to resist. His breath steadies. This isn’t the time to fight. Not yet.

As the adamantium process finishes, the machinery around him hisses, the final pieces of metal settling into his bones. The restraints on his wrists and ankles hiss as they release. Logan’s eyes snap open, his body weak but still alive. He climbs out of the tank, drenched in the cold fluid, steam rising from his skin.

Instead of attacking, Logan staggers forward, hands raised in a gesture of submission, his voice raspy but steady.

Logan:

(pleading)

"Stryker, wait… don't do it."

The room goes silent. The scientists glance nervously at each other, and Stryker turns, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Logan standing on his own, pleading instead of fighting. He hadn’t expected this.

Stryker:

(coolly)

"And why would I wait, Logan? You’re a weapon now, the strongest one I’ve ever created. We can’t have you remembering the wrong things."

Logan stumbles forward, the pain still coursing through him, but he ignores it. His mind is focused, clear. He knows what he has to say, and he knows it’s the only way to protect the people he cares about.

Logan:

(strained, but determined)

"I’ll do what you want. I’ll fight for you. I’ll be your weapon. But leave Victor alone. And don’t hurt any more innocent people."

Stryker arches an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Logan’s response. Logan’s breathing is labored, but his gaze is unwavering.

Logan:

"Use me… for whatever wars you need. I’ll follow orders. I’ll go where you tell me to go. But Victor… he’s my brother. You leave him out of this. And you leave innocent people out of it. That’s the deal."

Stryker stands still, clearly weighing the offer. He walks down from the observation deck, stepping closer to Logan, circling him like a predator, eyeing his new weapon with cold calculation.

Stryker:

(softly, considering)

"You’re offering me loyalty? Voluntary obedience? What makes you think I won’t erase your memories anyway? It’s much easier to control someone who doesn’t question their orders."

Logan’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening, but he forces himself to stay calm. He has to stay in control, for Victor’s sake.

Logan:

(steady, resolute)

"You don’t need to erase my memories. I know what you’re capable of. I know how far you’ll go. But if you leave Victor and innocent people out of this… you’ll have what you want. I’ll be the weapon you need. You don’t have to wipe my mind to get that."

There’s a long, tense silence. The scientists and guards watch the exchange closely, unsure what Stryker will do. Stryker himself stares into Logan’s eyes, searching for weakness, for fear. But all he sees is determination—Logan is offering him everything he wants, without needing to force him.

Stryker smirks, clearly intrigued by the idea. A willing Wolverine, one who would obey without needing to be brainwashed, could be even more useful than he’d planned.

Stryker:

(slowly, carefully)

"And if I accept this… deal… you’ll fight for me? No questions asked?"

Logan:

(nods)

"As long as Victor’s left alone. And as long as you keep innocent people out of it."

Stryker tilts his head, as if considering the terms. For a moment, Logan fears Stryker will reject the offer and order the memory wipe anyway. But then, Stryker gives a slow, calculating smile.

Stryker:

"Alright, Logan. You have a deal. Victor will remain unharmed, and I’ll… limit collateral damage. But remember this—you’re mine now. If you cross me, I’ll make sure you regret it."

Logan lets out a slow breath of relief, though his face remains stoic. He knows Stryker’s word is worth little, but for now, it’s the best chance he has of protecting Victor and keeping innocent people out of harm’s way. He nods, resigned to his fate as Stryker’s weapon.

Logan:

(quietly)

"I won’t cross you. Just keep your end of the deal."

Stryker steps closer, his voice low and menacing.

Stryker:

"Oh, I will, Logan. Just remember—you may have your memories, but that doesn’t make you any less of a tool in my hands. Don’t forget who holds the leash."

Logan glares at him but doesn’t respond. His chest rises and falls heavily, the weight of the adamantium—and the weight of his decision—bearing down on him.

Stryker:

(to the room)

"Prepare him for his first mission."

The scientists and guards spring into action, but Logan remains still, his fists clenching at his sides. He’s trapped, but at least he’s made sure Victor is safe. For now.

----

INT. WEAPON X FACILITY – NIGHT

The sterile, metallic corridors of Stryker’s facility hum with a clinical detachment as Logan walks through them, still covered in the blood of his first mission. The adrenaline has faded, and exhaustion seeps into his bones, but his healing factor keeps him moving. His mind, however, is weighed down by what he’s done. He wasn’t fighting for himself, or for honor, but as a tool—just like Stryker wanted.

As he approaches the control room, Logan straightens himself. He’s still thinking about Victor, about the deal he made, and about the cost of what he’s done. He can still feel the warlord’s life slipping away beneath his claws.

Stryker waits in the control room, surrounded by monitors and a team of scientists. He barely looks up when Logan enters, his fingers tapping on the control panel as if this is just another day at the office. Logan, bruised but resolute, steps forward to deliver his report.

Logan:

(voice low, tired)

"The mission’s done. You can move in and take the tech. The warlord’s dead."

Stryker glances up, a cold smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He nods in satisfaction but doesn’t acknowledge Logan’s fatigue or what he’s just endured. To him, this is just business.

Stryker:

"Good. Efficient, just as I expected from you."

Logan takes a step forward, his body aching for rest. His muscles are tight, and despite his healing factor, he feels the weight of everything pressing down on him.

Logan:

(gruffly)

"Where’s my room?"

Stryker looks up, surprised for a moment. Then, he laughs—cold and sharp. The sound cuts through Logan like a blade. The tension in the room builds as Stryker rises from his seat, stepping toward Logan.

Stryker:

(voice dripping with condescension)

"Your room? You think there’s a bedroom for you, Weapon X?"

Logan frowns, confusion and anger flickering in his eyes. He stands his ground, but his fists clench instinctively as the weight of Stryker’s words sinks in.

Logan:

(quietly)

"What are you talking about?"

Stryker steps closer, circling Logan like a predator sizing up its prey.

Stryker:

(taunting)

"You’re not Logan anymore. You’re not some man in need of rest. You’re Weapon X. That’s your name now. That’s your identity. You’ll be called nothing else."

Stryker motions to two scientists standing nearby. Without warning, they grab Logan by the arms, dragging him toward a large, metal chamber in the corner of the room. Logan growls, trying to pull free, but their grip is strong, and his weakened state after the mission leaves him vulnerable.

Logan:

(growling, resisting)

"What the hell is this?!"

Stryker watches with amusement as Logan is pushed toward the chamber, a thick metal pod with a single window in the front. The chamber is cold, sterile, and uninviting—a far cry from the rest Logan was expecting.

Stryker:

(smirking)

"You thought you’d have a bedroom, a place to rest your head? No, Weapon X, you’re not here to rest. You’re here to be the perfect weapon—my weapon. That means no luxuries, no comforts. You’ll sleep when I say so, and you’ll eat only what I give you to maintain peak performance."

Logan’s anger surges, and he begins to struggle against the scientists, trying to free himself. His claws start to extend with a metallic SNIKT, but before he can act, Stryker steps in front of him, his voice cold and commanding.

Stryker:

(voice low, menacing)

"Remember your promise, Logan. You said you’d obey. You said you’d be my weapon. You want to go back on your word now? Do you want to see what happens to Victor if you do?"

Logan freezes. The mention of Victor is enough to stop him in his tracks. His claws retract with a heavy sigh, and his body slumps in reluctant submission. He knows he’s trapped, and for Victor’s sake, he can’t fight back. Not yet.

The scientists force him into the metal chamber, strapping him down into the small sleeping pod. The restraints click into place, leaving Logan unable to move. He grits his teeth, glaring at Stryker, but says nothing.

Stryker:

(coolly)

"Good boy. Now, from now on, this is your home. You’ll sleep here, in the chamber, where we can monitor you at all times. You’ll be fed through artificial means to ensure you maintain the perfect physical condition. No more ordinary food for you. We wouldn’t want you to gain any unnecessary weight, would we?"

Stryker motions to the scientists, who approach with a tube and an IV drip. Logan’s eyes widen as they force the tube into his mouth and down his throat, connecting it to the feeding system. The sensation is uncomfortable, humiliating, and painful all at once. Logan gags, but the scientists hold him steady, making sure the tube is secure.

Stryker watches, pleased, as the thick, nutrient-rich mush begins to flow down the tube and into Logan’s stomach. It’s tasteless, a cold, artificial substitute for real food. Logan’s chest heaves as he tries to resist, but there’s nothing he can do. His body is being sustained by this thick, metallic-tasting sludge.

Stryker:

(leaning in, whispering)

"Get used to it, Weapon X. This is your life now. No more Logan. No more luxuries. Just obedience. Just the mission."

Stryker turns and steps away, signaling for the scientists to close the chamber. Logan watches helplessly as the metal door slides shut, sealing him inside. The lights flicker off, and he’s left alone in the darkness, with nothing but the sound of his own breathing and the steady hum of the machines.

The cold air of the chamber presses in on him, the restraints digging into his skin. The artificial feeding tube continues its relentless work, pumping the nutrient mush into his body. Logan grits his teeth, trying to endure the sensation, his muscles tensing with frustration and anger.

For the first time in a long time, Logan feels truly helpless. He’s a prisoner in his own body, and there’s no way out. All he can do is close his eyes, try to ignore the tube, and let sleep take him.

As the machines continue their work, Logan drifts into a restless sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of escape, of rebellion, and of the promise he made to Victor.

---

INT. WEAPON X FACILITY – SLEEP CHAMBER – MORNING

The quiet hum of machines and the cold darkness surround Logan as he lies restrained in his chamber. The nutrient-rich mush has been flowing into his body through the feeding tube all night, his muscles nourished despite the lifeless, clinical way his body has been kept functioning. Slowly, the chamber’s lights flicker on, cold and bright, signaling the start of a new day.

With a soft click, the restraints holding him in place spring open, releasing his arms and legs. The feeding tube retracts from his throat with a slow, uncomfortable hiss. Logan coughs as the tube exits, but he stays silent, his expression grim and resigned. He steps out of the chamber, feeling the strength in his body, his muscles firm and strong despite the lack of natural food.

Instinctively, his hand goes to his abdomen, touching the taut skin. His belly is as muscular as ever, his body a perfect specimen of human power. And yet, he feels… full. Nourished. As if he had eaten a full meal. But the emptiness remains somewhere deeper—an emotional void that food could never fill.

INT. WEAPON X FACILITY – BATHROOM – MORNING

Logan is led through the metallic halls by two scientists, their footsteps echoing in the sterile facility. The sound of their heels on the cold, unwelcoming floor mixes with the hum of machinery, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. They guide him into a bathroom, an area as clinical and cold as the rest of the facility.

A shower cubicle sits in the center of the room, and Logan pauses for a moment, eyeing it suspiciously. The scientists offer no explanation, only motion for him to undress. His eyes narrow slightly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, but he knows resisting isn’t an option. Not yet.

Reluctantly, he begins to undress, stripping off the basic garments he had been given before stepping into the cubicle. His muscles tense under the cold gaze of the scientists. There’s no privacy here—only the relentless surveillance of a man no longer seen as a person, but as a living weapon.

Logan steps into the cubicle, expecting water or some form of cleansing, but he notices immediately that there’s no showerhead. Confusion flickers across his face, but before he can react, a sudden blast of disinfectant liquid sprays him from all sides.

The liquid stings against his skin, burning in his nose and throat as he inhales the sharp chemical smell. He growls under his breath, instinctively shielding his face with his hands as the spray continues. His healing factor kicks in, keeping the burning sensation from doing any real damage, but the discomfort is undeniable. His skin prickles as the liquid seeps into every pore.

After a few agonizing moments, the spray ceases, leaving Logan standing in the middle of the cubicle, soaked in the sterile liquid. He glares at the scientists as he steps out, but they remain impassive, emotionless as they offer him a set of clothes—another uniform, devoid of personality or individuality.

Logan dresses quickly, the stench of the disinfectant still clinging to his skin as he pulls on the new clothes. They fit perfectly, as expected, designed to allow for maximum movement and combat efficiency. But there’s no comfort in them—just the cold reminder of what he has become.

INT. WEAPON X FACILITY – CONTROL ROOM – MORNING

Stryker waits for Logan in the same room where their last encounter occurred, surrounded by monitors displaying live feeds of the facility and various ongoing operations. He watches as Logan enters, his sharp gaze never leaving the man who had once been known as Logan. Now, to Stryker, he is nothing more than Weapon X—his prized creation.

Stryker steps forward, a pleased smirk curling at the corners of his lips as he approaches Logan. His eyes flick over Logan’s body, assessing every inch of his newly perfected form. He circles him slowly, as though admiring a piece of fine art, a rare and valuable artifact.

Stryker:

(softly, almost reverently)

"What a beautiful, immaculate weapon you’ve become."

Stryker reaches out, gently caressing Logan’s cheek with the back of his hand, a sickeningly tender gesture that contrasts sharply with the brutality of what he’s done to him. The touch is cold and clinical, devoid of any genuine affection. To Stryker, Logan is a product—a tool.

Logan’s jaw clenches, his muscles tensing as Stryker’s hand brushes his face. His eyes burn with anger, and he jerks his head away, the sharp movement a clear sign of defiance. But he says nothing. Not yet. He’s still playing the role Stryker has forced upon him.

Stryker chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the control he wields over Logan. He steps back, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.

Stryker:

"You’re perfect, Weapon X. A perfect killer. No distractions, no weaknesses. Just strength. Just power."

Logan stands rigid, his fists clenched at his sides, his expression unreadable. But the fury simmers just beneath the surface. He hates every word that falls from Stryker’s mouth, but he knows he can’t act on that hatred—not while Victor’s safety is still in Stryker’s hands.

Instead, he straightens his posture, forcing himself into the role of the obedient soldier. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it, a quiet warning buried beneath the surface.

Logan:

(voice tight, controlled)

"Awaiting new instructions, sir."

Stryker grins, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He knows he has Logan exactly where he wants him—for now. He turns back to the monitors, his fingers dancing over the control panel as he brings up a new set of orders. Logan watches, his body tense with barely contained rage, but his expression remains neutral.

Stryker taps a few buttons, pulling up a holographic map of a new location—a target for Logan’s next mission.

Stryker:

"You’re being sent to the Middle East. There’s a growing mutant insurgency, and I need you to take care of it. You’ll have full operational control. Eliminate the insurgents, recover any valuable intel, and report back. No witnesses, no loose ends."

Logan’s eyes flicker toward the map, but his thoughts are elsewhere. Another mission. More killing. More blood on his hands. But he has no choice. He nods, his expression grim as he prepares to do what he must.

Logan:

"Understood."

Stryker watches him for a moment longer, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He knows Logan will follow orders—at least for now. But there’s a part of Stryker that enjoys watching the conflict in Logan’s eyes, the struggle between the man he once was and the weapon he’s been forced to become.

Stryker:

"Go. And remember, Weapon X—you’re mine."

Logan says nothing as he turns to leave the room, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turn white. He may be following orders now, but deep inside, the fire of rebellion still burns. He knows that one day, he’ll have to break free. But for now, he walks out of the control room, his body strong, his mind sharp, and his soul weighed down by the cost of obedience.

[midnight1nk]

okay, cool theory event but since you mention it- we talk a lot about how 4 is affected by the whole thing but- what about 3? How do you think he was affected by the whole- event-virus thing. From what we saw he was barely conscious of what was going on, THOUGH not entirely unconscious which is a scary thought. Like, what do you think, what did he experience there and how could it compare to what 4 got to feel? I don't know how loaded this question is btw.

[your question's the right amount of load, dw about it 👍]

3's role in the whole thing is a lot to think about. Hell, viewing all of IGBP through 3's POV is crazy.

Imagine, one minute you're on a rescue mission to save the idiot from these creepy parasites. Then, by the next, you're being pulled into the strange space by classic model 4, and turned into this:

I'd be confused as hell too.

There are a few things from this theory, we have to establish:

the black goo's host is 4

the red monster's host is Mr. Puzzles

[and we'll leave it at that for other people to ask ;)]

In the events of IGBP, 4 had control of the goo itself but was influenced by a certain narrative, the one Mr Puzzles wanted. It was the red monster corrupting the castle. It was the red monster who pulled 4 back to his PC despite being rescued the first time by 3's speech. 4, just for how he is, surpasses his trauma and yet still feels guilty for it bc in his mind, he was the one who bought the keyboard. he was the one who almost killed his friends. he was the one who almost ended the entire universe.

We all know he was pushed to that point, from stress and insecurities. He didn't mean to do what he did. But seeing from his side, it's understandable how he could blame himself for it.

As for 3, he was only controlled by Mr Puzzles, once again for the sake of the narrative. That being part of the red monster, an obstacle for Meggy and Mario. He wasn't mentally pushed to do anything, he was literally dragged into this situation against his will, why he pleaded with the others to help him.

While 3's body and mind are trying everything to fight against it, 4 was consumed by it. 3 spent minutes under the monster's control, 4 spent at least a week by both parasites. One knew there was a way out of this, the other didn't. And neither of them should take the blame for what was done.

It's absolutely terrifying to think about 3 unable to control himself, how much time has passed. And the insane part of it all:

if it weren't for 3's Youtube Arc, he wouldn't have been able to save 4.

Sure, 3 going through his villain arc isn't what you call fantastic but if it weren't for that, to learn from that experience, 3 wouldn't have understood the pressures 4 was going through. At the beginning of the movie, possessed 4 said that no one understood, and when it seemed all was lost, it was 3 who said that he did. 3 has done what 4 asked for: to be understood.

Ofc right afterward when 3 returned to rescue 4 the second time and was dangled over the Pit. It all relied on 4, 3's life or the perfect video. He could've died or worse, become like Peach. Understandably, 4's been mentally damaged by the goo's negativity and the keyboard's torment, how can he not debate about this? Once again, it was 3 who brought him back to clarity, telling him that they were friends. It's the whole point of it all.

(love did indeed win. platonic love was what saved both of them)

Despite their experiences being different and the choices they have made, there's a level of understanding only they knew. From the pressures of creating content to being possessed in some way. If anyone could reach 4, it would be 3, and vice versa.

thanks for the ask! and for joining the QnA! [link]

[archangeldyke-all]

idk why i didn’t think of this sooner but bodyguard!Sevika 👀

her being overly protective, saying it’s bc of “her job” when it’s really bc she has a fat crush on her beautiful, celebrity client and doesn’t want anyone to lay a finger on her girl 😩

this is SO cute like SOOOO cute omg

men and minors dni

sevika's the best body guard you've had. and you've had plenty.

she isn't afraid to push people around when they're crowding you, and she isn't afraid to get in a fight or two.

she's always got a protective hand on the small of your back as she escorts you to and from appearances-- a comfort you've grown accustomed to.

in the mornings she picks you up from your home or whatever hotel room you're staying in, always prepared for you with a warm drink just the way you like it.

she's always got snacks tucked away in her pockets that she shoves into your hands when you've gone too long without eating, in between interviews and meetings.

she's not afraid to step in when journalists and interviewers get too comfortable or run on too long. inappropriate questions are often lobbed at you, about your personal life, your love life and your appearance, and each time sevika's there to witness them, she'll glare at the reporter until they take the question back or move on.

she's always ready for any problem you might face. raining? sevika's opening an umbrella over your head already. randomly got your period? she's subtly passing you a pad or tampon, then two painkillers and some water. tired? sevika's already wrapping her strong arm around you to let you sleep against her chest during the car rides to and from gigs.

she's been by your side as your personal guard for a year now, and you've never been happier. there's just one thing.

you've kinda got a crush on her.

how could you not? she's protective of you, kind to strangers, strong and beautiful and always touching you.

it's starting to drive you a bit crazy.

last week, she was hanging out in your house while you got ready for a red carpet, helping you lace up various dresses and clasp necklaces as you picked your outfit, looking handsome as hell in her all black suit.

there was a moment, as you were applying your makeup and she was fiddling with your television, where this wave of clarity washed over you. you watched in the mirror as behind you sevika huffed at the screen and mashed buttons on the remote, and you thought, 'oh. i think i want her here with me forever.'

three nights ago, she was dropping you off at home after you hosted the opening night of a new club, slightly sweaty, black buttonup shirt unbuttoned low enough you can see a little bit of her cleavage, hair slicked back, lips and eyes painted black, a smile on her lips and her hands on your hips to steady your drunken stumbling; and when you got to the door you could've fucking sworn she was about to kiss you goodnight. she was staring at your lips, licking her own, slowly leaning in, and you smiled. she froze, blinked, then pulled away.

"don't forget to lock your doors." she said. she's been saying it to you every night since she was hired. you rolled your eyes.

"text me when you're home safe, sev." you replied like you always do. she huffed as she began stumbling backwards so she could keep her eyes on you as she crossed your front yard.

"i'm a bodyguard for fuck's sake!" she said, exasperated.

she still texted you a 'home.' twenty minutes later.

you couldn't sleep that night, replaying the moment over and over again, butterflies in your stomach keeping you tossing and turning all night.

and then, the next time you saw her (last night) you decided to turn the charm on a bit, see if you were just delusional and drunkenly imagining things or if maybe the feelings you were having for sevika were... mutual.

you were at a gala, sevika sitting next to you in a tux as ballroom music played. you gulped down the last dregs of your drink and turned to her. "let's go outside." you whispered in her ear. she smiled, and followed you out to the empty smoking balcony.

sevika covered your exposed shoulders with her jacket before you could even shiver, then pulled a cigarette and lighter from her back pocket. you laughed, then pulled a joint from your cleavage, waggling your eyebrows at her. she chuckled.

you snatched the lighter from her hands and lit up as sevika tucked her cigarette away. you took a long puff and passed it over to her. she grinned, and took a drag.

when the joint was gone, you turned to her. "i've got kinda a stupid question but..."

"go ahead." she said with a chuckle.

"okay. but you have to be honest, promise?" you asked. she nodded. you took a deep breath, then whispered, "were you gonna kiss me the other night?"

sevika blinked. "i... don't know what you're talking about." she said.

you blinked, nodded, then went back inside.

neither of you talked the rest of the night.

and now things are weird.

you haven't heard from sevika. you haven't had anything scheduled, so there's no need for you to hear from sevika, but still. you can't remember the last time you'd gone more than 6 hours without a text or call. just to check in.

it's only now that you've gone so long without talking to her that you're starting to realize just how much she's become for you this past year. shit. you really need to give sevika a raise.

you've spent the day in bed, wallowing in self pity and heartbreak. your pajamas are wrinkled, your eyes are puffy from crying, and you're laying in a pile of crumbs from the cookies you've been munching on all day.

your doorbell rings. you freeze, mid munch on your cookie. there's only ten or so people who know the code to the gate around your property, who can get close enough to ring the actual doorbell.

you scramble out of bed pulling a robe on over your pajamas and running toward your front door. is it your mom? your manager? you tug open the door.

it's sevika.

you blink. "hi." you say. "do i have something today?" you ask. she shakes her head no.

"no, i--"

"i think i should give you a raise." you blurt. sevika blinks.

"what?"

you shrug. "do you wanna come in?" you ask. sevika shakes her head no. you freeze. "...okay?"

"here." she says, shoving flowers into your grip. you look down at them, a bouquet of your favorite colors. "i lied to you." she whispers.

"...about what?"

"i did want to kiss you. i'm sorry. if you want me to resign..."

"what!?" you shout. "why would i want you to resign?" you ask. sevika blinks up at you and shrugs.

"i have feelings for you. it's unprofessional." she says.

you laugh. sevika cringes, like you're laughing at her. you reach out and grab her hand before she can spiral.

"i have feelings for you too. i was really hopin' you were gonna kiss me. i spent all day in bed today 'cause you said you didn't want to. it's beyond unprofessional." you admit. sevika's jaw drops. "i don't want you to quit. i was serious about the raise. i just wanna say that before i kiss you so it's not, like, nepotism or something." sevika blinks at you. "is that okay?" you ask. she nods. you grin.

her arms have always inticed you, the steady way they guide you through crowds, the powerful way they push and beat off people who try to get near you, the way they fill out her blazers and button ups. but your new favorite, by a mile, is the gentle way they wrap around your body to hold you closer to her as you kiss.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights

[9w1ft]

Don't you love how she told us this narrative over a year ago... "Move to Florida by the Kar you want." Recently I've been thinking about the timing of it too. The articles of Travis training there and then multiple sightings. All happening right around when Karlie did her interview mentioning Kingdom Keys, LWYMMD release, then masters announcement. Wondering if the car wont start up until you touch me is a reference to keys. Keys being the masters. Get the keys, start up the Florida narrative.

just a technical point but it was the interviewer that said the words “those are the keys to the kingdom” in response to karlie saying something different

it would be really cool if it ends up being some sort of future prediction song because i think the themes of the song depict the ongoing phenomenon of them getting closer and closer to a public interaction year by year. here’s a post i made about some of my thoughts on that!

in the meantime, i have been able to see fortnight as a song about the past. i think “all of this to say, i hope you’re okay but you’re the reason and no one here’s to blame but what about your quiet treason” has the potential to be a public-facing description of their relationship post-masters heist back in mid 2019. the wording sounds like she’s writing a letter and the treason keyword fits that narrative. (for the sake of clarity that’s not what i really think the truth is but i can see it as a version things used as part of a public facing narrative of their relationship). and i think that this detail works toward a future prediction interpretation of the song as well. i do think that it helps ground a starting point for the song in either case.

in terms of how it can fit a timeframe of things that already happened, i look at the major beats of 2020, the year when karlie publicly moved to florida. first, at the start of the pandemic taylor (and karlie) both spent time in california in a very documented way. taylor posted to instagram from there in spring (the “biiiig isolation” post, among others) and karlie moved out to california for a time from june-ish? i think? and it’s a little bit vague but you can’t rule out that they didn’t overlap for a period of time. in california, taylor posted a lot from her property and karlie made a lot of youtube content at a rental. she was photographed with josh there a bit in july too if i remember correctly. then they were reported to have gotten the place in miami back in august 2020 (i think the deal was reported to have closed on august 31st) and that became her home base on through 2021 as she made the transition to parenthood. the song depicts the two people as being sort of touch and go, being together for increments of 14 days, then not being in the same place and not picking up the phone for one another sometimes, losing fortnights in the process, but, ultimately, the song finishes with taylor moving to florida [by the kar she wants]. when i think about it, i can see this song matching the themes of this period of time in their lives. also, arches played such a big visual role in the eras tour set, and of course the miami property is known for its big arches and echoey, open layout, which suggests taylor may have already gone to florida in the sense that the song is describing. i also think she might have written dear reader there?? just because of the soundscape and, well, some of the lyrics.

i do hope fortnight turns into a future prediction song though that would be incredible! (and hey, por que no los dos)

[drconstellation]

Taking Things At Face Value

This post is dedicated to all those Ninas out there, who are "just enjoying the show."

I have been pondering an problem that had come up for a second time in another meta I'm writing (I left it out of an earlier one for clarity) regarding acknowledgement of identity and faces in S2, but when you keep running into the same road-block, you have to tackle it head on. Then I ran into the exact same problem a third time here, and the beginnings of this meta has sat in my drafts file staring at me for several weeks while I've been doing other things. But finally, finally, the answer has come to me, while being kept awake by a passing thunderstorm at 1.30am.

MRS SANDWICH: You're a good lad. CROWLEY: I'm not actually, either. But thank you.

Let's start with this exchange between Crowley and Mrs Sandwich, after Crowley has led all the Whickber St shopkeepers out of the ball to apparent safety. She calls him a "good lad," and he denies it, but thanks her anyway, and gives her a charming smile. We all know Crowley hates being called 'nice' and the last time he did something 'good' he got dragged down to Hell for punishment, so it seems like an odd thing to happen.

But the thing is, while Mrs Sandwich is complimenting his actions, he is responding about his appearance - that is neither 'good' (i.e. he is a demon) or a male human (i.e. he is an supernatural non-gendered entity.)

At this point you might be going "yeah, yeah, we know, we get that! Move along op..." but this matters, as you soon will see. We should also note that neither Crowley or Aziraphale judge Mrs Sandwich for being a brothel madame (how Aziraphale does not know this when her shop is just over the road from his I will never fathom, but there you go) and Crowley is actually quite charming all-round to his parallel character (prostitution and demons going hand-in-hand - er, not literally. But they went out the door as the vanguard arm-in-arm, though.)

The Metatron turning up at the bookshop in person is the next scene on the cards. Firstly, archangel Michael doesn't recognize him, but Saraqael obviously does.

Now, I know I'm guilty of saying that Michael may have had their memory adjusted at some time, but I'm going to suggest something else at this point. Saraqael knows who this is, because they have just had a fresh reminder from watching the recordings of Gabriel with Crowley and Muriel. And Saraqael is a pretty smart angel, so lets give them some leeway on this one. But for Michael, well, they are in the same situation as Aziraphale. They have only seen the Metatron as giant floating head without a body, so don't associate him with this appearance before them, and also because he has a beard.

Just before you jump on me and say "But he had one in the recordings!" yes, yes, I know. Two things, though, I want to bring to your attention: angels are not supposed to have facial hair,* and he doesn't have any in S1 (I checked!) and he also makes the comment "This calls for much less attention, though." Yeah, well a giant head floating through the streets of Soho would be quite a sight, wouldn't it, even though they had already been treated to the view of Gabriel's royal rear-end. Aziraphale had only met him once before, as a giant floating head in S1E4 who had had to introduce himself, so we could surmise this is Michael's problem as well, even though they were at Gabriel's trial. This is backed up by a tumblr ask/answer from NG as well, where he said "I think because they normally see him as a giant floating head, and not as a little man in a raincoat."

MICHAEL: Um, and who are you? METATRON: For Heaven's sake. And I mean that most literally. You don't know me? Well, uh, what about you? Demon? Do you know me?

Demon. That is what the Metatron chooses to call Crowley in that company, and we know in hindsight that he knows Crowley's name - as does Uriel, and Gabriel. Even Muriel learns it. But they don't use it, at least not in S2.

Even more notable is that the archangels don't deign to him give the respect of using his chosen name at all. He's not not even their enemy at this point - he's beneath their notice altogether, even though they are in the same room. Only Aziraphale seems to acknowledge his existence, instinctively trying to reach out to him as he passes by.

To Nina, people are coffee preferences.

To Mrs Sandwich, they are desires that need servicing.

So then question I had, and that stopped me, was why did both Crowley and Gabriel question Beelzebub about their new face?

It stood out to me because you don't normally make an obvious comment about the change of actor for a character, and to do it twice - !! You can't ignore that. No meta writer should ignore that. There is a trope term for this, actually, called "lampshading," which means to intentionally call attention to an incongruent situation within a story before moving on, but in a show where nothing is an accident, this seems a bit trite to me. Eventually I realized that this was the whole crux of the problem to me - that while we all too readily take things at face value, its not the faces that really influence us, its our internal values.

In the case of Beelzebub, Crowley recognizes the demon, their power, and their identity via the flies without any doubt; he merely comments on the change of exterior appearance. In terms of value, he knows straight away he's dealing with someone dangerous, no matter what they look like. Gabriel, on the other hand, is judging the book by its cover, and because he doesn't recognize the new cover, he needs proof of which demon he's dealing with, or maybe if they are even a demon at all.

"Bravo," says Nina, "Just enjoying the show." She's already seen a few that week, not to mention just in the general flow of life as a shop owner involved with customer service. If you've had any sort of life in a customer service role I'm sure you've got a few stories you could tell of things you've seen or experienced as well! I know I can.

The conversation between Nina and Crowley after Aziraphale walks away is amusing for all the assumptions Nina makes about them based on what she's observed that week, but also because Crowley tells the truth every in every reply to Nina, and yet she still has no idea what he's really saying. But her judgements, based on her experience and values, still manage to drop the proverbial ton of bricks on his head so badly he slinks off to sooth himself with some alcohol while he thinks about it instead of catching up with Aziraphale to continue being the angel's nameless shadow.

This problem with judging people on previous experience and not on who they actually are is everywhere in S2.

It's Ennon treating Aziraphale, an angel he's never met before, as a slut.

It's Elspeth judging Aziraphale on his accent.

It's Mrs H. giving a powerful demon a blistering tongue-lashing because she thinks he's a just simple human black marketeer.

It's Crowley refusing to call Gabriel "Jim" because he believes Gabriel is faking it.

...and so on. These are just a few examples. I'm sure you can spot a few more.

Which brings us back around to the meeting of the supernatural Councils in the bookshop in S2E6 and Crowley's "invisibility" to the other angels and demons gathered there. A demon to the archangels, an arch-traitor to the demons, why would they want to acknowledge him? Once he restores Gabriel, he becomes rank-less and faceless to them because they don't need him any more - its basically an act of celestial racism.

Nina and Maggie don't really know any better, they still think Mr Crowley and Mr Fell are just, well, "partners." OK, so maybe they've been doing some weird shit the last few days manipulating things in the neighbourhood but they're still obviously a couple a group of the two of them in their human eyes - and neither do they seem to care that they seem to be mlm, either. No judgement there.

A number of times I've seen ops say they've been watching GO with family members who are seeing it for the first time, and the family member thinks they are just "close friends." Why? Because they haven't seen S2 and the kiss? Because they haven't verbally said "I love you" to each other? Do they really need to say that to prove their feelings for each other? Is that just your values creeping to the fore?

And where did you get your values from?

Sometimes you need to stop and question why you think what you think. I'm not just talking about religious indoctrination. Some expectations put on us by by society at large can be insidious. Expectations around how gender should act, the life purpose of a gender, your worth to society if you don't meet certain unspoken standards, age-related behaviour, social norms around alcohol consumption, the way they dress, what someone eats, the way they eat it, that you must be seen to be productive, or busy...take your pick for whatever is prevalent around you at the moment and for your culture. Just start by noticing, and being aware.

Yes, it is pointless, because demons and angels all come from the same angelic stock. There was a bit of a disagreement at one point and they split into two groups, and judgemental labels got applied to them. They are both still bureaucratic horrors. Which ever side wins the final battle, humans still lose.

Mortal humans all look the same inside, too, if you take their face and skin away and take the societal labels off them. We forget that about ourselves all the time.

There doesn't have to be any wibbly-wobbly timeline stuff going on to explain things. What ever happened to the concept of Occam's Razor? The simplest answer is usually the correct one. And that was what I realized in the middle of the night - the cliche I had used to title this was the answer. It's about being aware of those ingrained, instinctive, judgmental values that you don't realize you've learnt, and looking past the faces that you meet.

*oh lawdy, I'm giving strength to all of you who want to believe he is a demon then, aren't I? But do demons have facial hair either?

[bingeeaterblog]

Messy kaneki breakdown (kakuja centric)

Kaneki is genuinely so unwell but he still manages push past that and create a life for himself???? He's been through so much and instead being like "I suffered why wouldn't they" he actively wants to make a change in the world so people don't suffer like he did! He would do anything for the people he loves he would DIE for them.

I wanna talk about his kakuja form, there's no way around it is a psychotic break he is actively self sabotaging and killing himself thinking what is doing is for the sake of the people he cares about.

His hallucinations of rize and Jason destroy him even in death he can't escape them always in the back of his mind they will always be part of him rize genuinely INSIDE him and Jason in his mind and his stomach in the centipede appendages that trail down his back.

He's pushing people he loves away thinking it's for their own good if he doesn't he's still the pathetic man that let ryoko die right? He doesn't know if what he's doing is actually right but he has to try doesn't he? Cause if he doesn't what was it all for? All the pain all the counting the sick cracking of knuckles HIS knuckles being ripped off over and over it has to all be for something doesn't it?

Kaneki is actively decaying and I mean this is his state of mind, the lack of help and support after his torture maybe but also the cannibalism, it is actively eating away at his mind making him go mad his constant gorging disgusts him but he keeps GOING.

When he hears Amon say he's just like every other ghoul (I actually prefer the dubs anime version of this line "you're nothing but a heartless killer" it just hits a little harder for me) and in a moment of clarity he realizes what hes doing and he gives in, bowing before Amon "I don't wanna eat anymore" (whatever punishment you see fit kill me in an act of justice).

I think Amon is a very interesting parallel to him, someone who sees the world in purely black and white having that view changed when he meets a ghoul who /doesn't/ want to kill him. He's curious it gives him some sort of hope that the world could be different. Yet still when he sees a ghoul who he once thought as (almost) pure hearted eating and tearing at someone he looks up to? He doesn't fully resent him. He does at first but seeing that ounce of regret and shame when he comes back to earth? What happened to him? What made him turn out this way? What happened in that aoigiri base that changed you so? Will I ever truly know you?

Ok byeeee :3

[thoughtcascades]

Hello, uh well idk what brings me here, tbh I don’t know you enough, I am not even sure if I have followed you as I type this(I’ll be doing that after I finish typing, please don’t hold that against me) but your posts catch my eye every now and then. And I read the post where someone shared about their situation with the person they love and that inspired me to come here. And well, since I’m already here, I’ve been struggling with a lot since I lost my job last year(now it’s “last” year, feels unreal). I got disconnected with my best friend who meant the world to me. I then dated someone who was kind enough to love me and accept me and tell me “you deserve support while you sort out your employment situation and I’m here to do that for you”. Two months later, when I was finally getting back on my feet, they told me “you are already finding your way, you will be fine even without me, i want to break up” and I did my best to accept it gracefully. I’ve had my ugly moments with them, sorry for being a human being. But now few months later when I feel so alone, so cornered, I keep thinking about that promise they made initially and how they conveniently thought that I don’t need that support anymore and how confident they were that I’ll be just fine without them. Everything about the promised love was a lie but I keep thinking why did they stir me so badly when i was at my lowest. And one of the reasons they gave me to make me accept that nothing will change their mind about us was—“you haven’t even sorted your financial situation yet, I don’t want to wait and pass up an opportunity in case I find someone who is more plausible than you.” And now they are already planning to erm take a step in the direction of their crush who has been around longer than me. And all I can do is sit and wonder, what did I ever do to deserve this. Frankly speaking, they were the one who showered me with care, patience, love, support first; and I chose them for it and perhaps that was my sole mistake. I can’t knock on their door now and say, hey you told me that I’ll be fine without you, but look at me, I’m worse than before you picked me up. Are you going to take responsibility for it? God forbid, if I ever say this I will be hit with another storm where everything is my fault. For the sake of clarity, I have no enmity or hard feelings against them but sometimes my mind takes me for a terrible spin and there are moments when I need to talk but have no one to listen to, even the walls turn away from me if I try to converse with them, that’s the extent of my loneliness. I’ll end my rant with that.

People love to play the role of saviour until it no longer suits them. They swear they'll stay, make promises they never thought through, and then when you start to stand on your own, they rewrite the script - suddenly you don't "need" them anymore. As if love is a rehab programme and they're the discharge nurse signing you out. You already had someone else in mind. That "you'll be fine without me" speech was just a guilt-free exit plan. They didn't leave because you were fine - they left because they found something they liked better. And that's not love. That's planned obsolescence. You sit there questioning what you did wrong, but the answer is simple: you believed them. And that’s not a crime, just a hard lesson. People say what feels good in the moment, but when reality hits, they change the narrative to justify their exit. You can’t even call them out without getting blamed for your own abandonment. I know the loneliness. That deep, aching kind where even the walls refuse to listen. But you don’t need love that’s conditional, that expires the moment you become an inconvenience. They left. Let them. You’re still here. And that has to count for something.

[factcheckingmclennon]

hey! making a pinned that will for now hold some basic info/disclaimers & may in the future have a read more with a guide to deep dives

navigation

james/lorraine, they/he/she, 24. BA in religious studies/history, going back for a MA in history in january (that's relevant okay that's my CREDENTIALS for this silly blog)

my main is @menlove

I am indeed a shipper! no hate is meant at all by this blog existing, I'm just a historian that is going crazy trying to sort out fact & fiction in this fandom. there's a lot of both and I think a blog like this could be useful

and in that vein, I will never, ever directly come after or @ anyone who shared that misinformation. if you send me a request and start it with "I saw so and so post x, is this real?" I'll make a post without your ask in it. I don't want to send hate anyone's way. if it's an older post, i'll probably link the source of the misinformation for the sake of clarity, but if it's a blog that's still active i won't & i'll just screenshot. (maccaswife1978 is not a real person btw dgshdhshs. as far as I know! sorry if anyone's ever had that username)

I'm always open to correction. I have 0 way of knowing or finding everything, so if you have a credible, reliable source that I didn't find in my deep dive of something I rated fake/neutral, please let me know! I'd love for some of these to be real

I also take requests! feel free to ask me about anything that you want fact checked. just know sometimes I might not be able to find an answer or I might be bogged down & not be able to answer just then. I'll do my best to get to everyone, but inevitably my mental health and life Will come first so......

rating system

fake- this is a source that, from everything I can find, only loops back to other mclennon blogs/forums. again, I'll take correction on these.

neutral- this is a source that is fake in some way but real in others. maybe it's a quote taken wildly out of context, or the quote passed around is fake but the content really did happen & has a more grounded source. or maybe it was written in a biography that didn't use citations and I have no idea where that author got that information, so you should take it with a grain of salt. or maybe it's something that isn't necessarily fake, but there's not enough evidence to definitively prove it one way or another (i.e. did anything happen in india?) whatever the case, this source has ended up neutral in the grand scheme of mclennon.

real- happy day for us all, these are for ones that turn out to be real! these are ones that are backed up by one or more reliable source & have hard evidence

source reliability

what do I mean by "reliable source"?

for me to count a source as "reliable" and count it towards a fact/quote being real, it has to be one of these things: first-hand (interviews, auto biographies, etc), recorded (video/photographic evidence, basically), or a well-sourced/respected biographer.

sources that fall into the in between category and might still earn a "real" rating but should be taken with a grain of salt are things like: second-hand sources (& who they are is important in determining how big that grain of salt should be), biographers who are allergic to sourcing, and things like lyrics/poetry/short stories which rely heavily on interpretation unless explained by either john or paul themselves. none of these automatically mean a "neutral" or "fake" rating, but they're taken into account.

and sources that will earn a fake rating once they're found to be the original source: tumblr blogs, deviantART pages, fan forums, gossip columns, etc. basically, if all I can find is someone writing out "slash beatles quotes" on a page in 2011, it's getting chucked in the bullshit pile unless someone else can find a source that predates it.

[bogkeep]

(medical stuff, i'm doing fine)

had a little adventure today!!! baby's first trip to the ER (that i know of, there is one other time i might have been but it was twenty years ago)! i've been feeling dizzy/lightheaded, having persistent chest pain and weird breathing for weeks now, and Finally got anxious enough that i decided to talk to a medical professional about it - especially after my med student friend definitely urged me to get it checked out (along with some google searches that Also suggested doing that but we all know googling symptoms tends to add to the anxiety).

i've been dragging my feet around talking to swedish doctors about anything just because i am unfamiliar with the system, and the slight communication barrier is awkward, but i decided that fuck it, i'll just talk english for the sake of clarity, scandinavian pride be damned. it helped so much to let myself do that. gold star sticker for me. i had first thought to get an appointment with a GP, but the receptionist told me to go directly to the ER. so that was my after school activity for the day decided!

it felt like a very dramatic thing to do but everyone was very nice about it and took tests and, Drumroll Please....!!!! Nothing Seems To Be Wrong!!!! yippee!!! yahoo!!! i don't have to deal with a medical emergency during the exam period of my last term at school!!! it is just psychosomatic bullshit Once Again, probably caused by stress and/or anxiety!!!! just like a good 95% of my ailments in life it seems :')

it was very kind of the doctor to tell me it was good that i got it checked, because i definitely felt a little foolish. i agree though, just knowing i am not in immediate danger is probably going to make me feel better, since i suspect part of the problem was the anxiety ouroboros (oh no! scary chest pain -> anxiety makes chest pain feel worse -> oh god am i going to die in my sleep -> anxiety makes chest pain feel wors-). i Also suspect that a lot of the anxiety stems from the way doctors (particularly the ones at the norwegian gender clinic) talk about taking testosterone and how it taking it puts you in sooo much danger for cardiolovascular diseases etc - combined with my GP worrying about my cholesterol. i guess brains with anxiety disorders love to turn everything into infohazards. i don't think that should be allowed if i'm honest!!!

sooo we're adding that to my list of Symptoms That Seemed Very Concerning To Everyone But Turned Out To Not Be Anything After I Got It Checked By Medical Professionals ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (though i am definitely getting myself checked for sleep apnea again in the future.)

[elventhespian]

The only way Will not wanting to be caught by the crew at the start of DMTNT makes sense is that he Would Have to use the same kind of cruelty Jones used To keep them in line and mutant or not, Will refuses to do so. He’s just that good.

Yeah, I mean. He's demonstrated to extend a certain level of sympathy for others who have wronged him in specific circumstances, and I don't see him doling out floggings left and right or whatever. And the concept of what patterns of corruption he resists compared to Jones is kind of key to the mirrors of their narratives. So it's definitely an interesting idea!

But I think one small thing I would disagree with is that I personally think that specific scenario with Henry would have less to do with how Good Will is, and more to do with him getting wiser and less rash with age.

Because the thing is the scenario DMTNT starts with puts Henry in danger, so to begin with it's not the same as Jones just stabbing people for the sake of it. And Will just doesn't have any established qualms in the trilogy with slicing or blowing people up when they're a perceived threat to him or his loved ones. Like the guy has exploded people by stuffing a grenade in a living man's rib-cage, and one of his first inclinations when meeting Jones' crew was to start stabbing and cutting with a fire sword. He pretty always waits for a sign that the other party is an aggressor before attacking--same with his pettiness and betrayals, he waits until he's been betrayed or is certain he will be betrayed first. But once he's got that understanding that someone's trying to attack him or his with intention, violence is his kind of his established go-to answer.

The main problem with his younger trilogy self is that that violence can often be responded to in ways where he loses pretty severely. And I think one of the nice things about the trilogy is watching how by At World's End, he's learned to be a little more cautious and calculated before launching himself into fights. Most of the time.

So I think if someone threatened Henry, he wouldn't have a problem with protecting him through violent means--which is separate from Jones' cruelty for cruelty's sake. But I think he would also be more calculating about what fights are realistic, and refuse to put his son in danger when running away is an option (ironically like Jack does for himself). And in that context sending Henry away does make sense.

But the problem for me is fundamentally that I don't believe the entire crew would all turn out like Bill did around the time he killed Norrington as one massive hive, even if there was a good reason for the curse kicking in.

Like there's other components to how the curse affects the crew, like how Wyvern wasn't a violent person as he fused with the ship and remained some clarity but could not maintain his physical autonomy except in spurts. There seems to be patterns with how much regret an individual carries with them into the job, and how much they do or don't want to be there?

[willalove75]

Mother witch x fem!witch!reader, she and reader were best friends (secretly in love with each other and in different covens) but after MW used the power spell reader lost trust and stopped hanging out with her. Decades later they reconcile?

Also, what do you think Mother witches real name would be??

Oh I LOVE this!!!!

Thank you so much for the request!!💕💕

A/n: For the sake of making my life easier, I'm going to pretend that witches covens inhabited Salem long before the settlers actually arrived and that you don't need ingredients for the spell hehee

ALSO I'm sorry this got out of hand and I have to make a part 2 bc this was getting longgggg heheh but no fear I'll have part 2 out tomorrow!💕

18+ only minors DNI

Part 2

Wandering the Forbidden Woods in your cat-form during the large full moon, you feel the power inside of you grow. As the moon ascends into the sky, you look up and stretch out your paws, gently kneading the ground below you. In an instant the fur on your back stands up, an unsettling charge filling the air. As the leader of your coven, it's your duty to investigate any disturbances, especially those with any magical effect to them.

With a quick hiss, displeased about needing to investigate on a night like this, you head off into the direction you feel the magic pulling you towards.

Memories fill your head as you make your way through the forest, knowing every downed tree, every vine, every hill and valley like the back of your hand. You grew up in these woods, ran through the dead leaves, played in the darkness, the forest is your home. Most people, regular humans mostly, are usually terrified of these woods, but here, you thrive.

One of your earliest memories comes to the front of your mind, The Meeting of the Covens, you couldn't have been older than 5 or 6 at the time. Flashes of your parents, the former leaders of your coven, welcoming the surrounding covens into your territory. Hundreds of witches and warlocks gathered from different covens, your coven alone had about 30 or so members, one of the largest covens having nearly double that. Some of the smaller covens had only a few more than a dozen members, but during The Meeting of the Covens, you were all one. The meetings took place every other month or so, so the leaders can discuss important matters, but to also give the opportunity for socialization between the neighboring covens.

It was Midsummer, your favorite time of year. The sun was warm and the sky was blue without a cloud in sight. Your parents had left you with the other few children in your coven to play and you remember watching as the older children from yours and the surrounding covens dancing around the Maypole. Watching in awe, your focus was broken when a little girl with curly blond hair and bright green eyes stood in front of you. With her head tilted to the side, she looked at you with curiosity on her face.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm watching the dance." You replied shyly.

"Why?"

You remember the question confusing you a bit, why wouldn't you watch?

"Um, I- I don't know."

"You're silly. I'm Griselda what's your name?" The little girl asks with a big toothy smile.

"Y/n."

"What coven are you from y/n? I'm from the Sisters of Clarity!"

"Coven of the Setting Sun."

Just when you thought the little girls eyes and smile couldn't get any bigger, they widened even more.

"Woowwww! This is your home?!"

Nodding your head, you look around, taking in the scene around you.

"Do you wanna be my friend?!" Griselda asks with excitement in her voice.

You turn back towards her, noticing a spark in her eyes, you could feel that even at such a young age, this little witch has power in her. But her power didn't scare you, knowing you had power in yourself as well, it actually excited you. It dawned on you in that moment that you really didn't have any friends, sure there were other kids in your coven, but none of them were your age. None of them wanted to play with you, so you usually spent time alone, practicing your magic or playing by yourself.

"You, you want to be my friend?"

"Of course I do!"

"O-okay."

"YAY!"

Griselda grabs your hand and takes off running towards the open field.

"You can call me Zelda!" She shouts as you run.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Even though you came from different covens, you later found out that her covens territory backed up to yours, making it easy to meet up and play. Although you didn't see each other every day, you got together at least once a week, sometimes more if you were lucky.

The older the two of you became, the closer you got. Once you both turned sixteen you both began to come into your powers. When your formal training began, you two saw less of each other and you hated it. The two of you begged your parents to send you to train with a sorcerer together, but both of your parents disagreed until you were in more control of your powers. You and Griselda were powerful witches and for the next two years you both trained extensively to control and develop your skills.

On your 18th birthday, your parents agreed to send you both to the same sorcerer for more intense training. It wasn't something that was usually done, but given your closeness and the fact that both yours and her parents were the leaders of their respective covens, they allowed the two of you to train together.

The day you moved in with your mentor was the most excited either of you had been in your lives. Instead of having to plan your next meeting, the two of you would be living under the same roof for the next few years, it was a dream come true for the both of you.

It had been some time since you were able to see each other because of the extensive training, so when Zelda made it to your mentors house, you ran into each others arms. Looking into her eyes, your stomach filled with butterflies, brushing it off as excitement to see your best friend, you didn't think much of it.

As the weeks went on, you caught yourself admiring her beauty more and more. How her beautiful, long, blond curly hair fell around her face, how her green eyes flashed into the most captivating shade of purple when she got excited or would use her magic. You could have sworn you caught her admiring you from afar when you would train, but each time you talked yourself out of it, telling yourself how ridiculous it would be for someone as beautiful as her to feel that way towards you.

The two of you only lived with the sorcerer for two years before having to return back to your covens. With the end of your training rapidly approaching, neither of you wanted to leave the comfort of the other. Knowing it could be months until you two were able to see each other again after you returned home, you spent every waking moment together.

On the very last night, Zelda came into your shared room with a mischievous look on her face.

"Oh no." You say, looking up from your book.

"What?" She asks innocently.

"No, I know that look, what are you up to?"

"Me? Up to something? Y/n I'm offended!"

"Mhm, sureeee."

"Okay maybe I am."

"I don't know why you think for even a second you can get anything past me. I'm in your head." You say, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Oh I know, and you're not even paying rent! Freeloader."

The two of you laugh and she motions for you to scoot over and sits next to you on your bed.

"Actually if you must know, I have a surprise for you."

"Should I be concerned or...?"

"No!"

"You know I have to ask, last time you had a 'surprise' for me you almost set the forest on fire!"

"Will you ever let that go?! It was one time!"

"Hmm..." You tap your chin pondering for a moment. "Nope, never."

Griselda rolls her eyes at you and pulls a cupcake out of thin air. Flicking her finger over it, a candle appears, with one more flick the candle is lit and she holds it in front of you.

"I couldn't not wish my best friend a happy birthday before she leaves tomorrow."

"Aw, Zel."

"I know it's not until tomorrow, but since we're leaving early I decided it's acceptable to celebrate a little early. Happy birthday, y/n."

Looking at your best friend, your heart feels like it's about to burst, so do the butterflies in your belly. The last two years with her have been the best two years of your life, not only were you able to spend it with your best friend, you realized you were in love with her. Never for a moment thinking she reciprocated the feelings, you never let your feelings for her show, but as long as you had her in your life, you were happy.

"Make a wish!"

You close your eyes and think of what you want more than anything. Immediately, you think of her. All you want, is her. To love her, to care for her, for her to love you back. Opening your eyes, you blow out the candle.

Griselda rips the cupcake in half and hands you one half, shoving her half into her mouth. You can't help but laugh at her while she does it. As regal and dignified as she may come off, you know deep down this is who she really is. After you finish your half you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug.

"Thank you. I'm going to miss you, so much Zel."

"I'm gonna miss you too, y/n."

When you pull away you notice frosting on her cheek.

"You're such a mess, what are you gonna do without me?" You say playfully as you wipe the frosting off of her.

"I'm going to be really sad." Griselda's tone is serious, somber even. As you look into her eyes you can see that they're starting to fill with tears.

"Aw, Zel, don't, you're gonna make me cry." Tears begin to well up in your eyes. A tear rolls down her cheek and you wipe it away, your hand lingering on her cheek. Gazing back into her eyes, you see them flash that beautiful shade of purple you love so much. It confuses you for a moment because you don't know why they did that. A moment later it dawns on you, maybe she does feel the same way.

"Zelda-"

Her lips cut you off when she presses them into yours. Shocked for just a moment, you melt into the kiss and she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into her. Her lips are soft and warm, the sweet taste of the cupcake lingering on them. A gentle tongue brushes over your bottom lip and you part your lips, letting her in. Her tongue flicks across yours and a moan slips from the back of your throat into her mouth.

Griselda shifts her weight and lowers you onto the bed. Warm lips kiss down your jaw and down your neck. You feel her warm breath on your skin as she peppers your neck with kisses. Her hands grab your sides and she squeezes, your body squirms under her when she hits one of your most ticklish spots and you start laughing. Guiding her face back up to yours, you look into her purple eyes once more.

"I can't believe- I didn't- I-"

"Shh." She says, placing a finger over your lips. "I love you, y/n."

"I love you too Griselda."

The two of you spent the rest of the night in your bed, kissing and cuddling, squeezing in as much time together as possible before the morning came and you both had to go separate ways. The two of you have slept in the same bed countless times before, but this time was different. This time, you spent the night in the arms of the woman you loved, and it was the best nights sleep you ever had.

A few months went by without being able to see each other and you hated it. Both you and Griselda began learning how your covens run, preparing to take over in the next few years when your parents are set to retire as the leaders. Learning how to be the leader of a coven is exhausting, not nearly as much fun as learning to use your magic, but it's still rewarding. Your parents finally allowed you to dive into your covens spellbook, something that only the leaders and those who have successfully harnessed their powers were able to do. The spells both fascinated and terrified you, but you learned about how many of the spells in there could be used to help your coven and most importantly, to protect everyone. There were some spells that were off-limits, ones you briefly reviewed but paid no mind to. There was a reason why they were forbidden, and you didn't dare question why.

To ease the pain of not being able to see each other, you and Griselda wrote letters to each other every week. In your letters you talked about what your training has been like, the different aspects of leading a coven of so many, how it's much different than what you had expected, but that you were pleasantly surprised at how much you've been enjoying it. Griselda also wrote about what her experience was like, although it varied from yours given that her coven was one of the smaller ones with just over a dozen witches and warlocks in it. She expressed interest in trying to grow her coven size, how she wants to expand her powers, do as much as she possibly can to make her coven thrive. Her determination and aspirations always inspired you, she was always so devoted to her coven. In her letters you can tell just how passionate she was about doing everything possible for them.

The time finally came where you were able to be reunited with Griselda once more, every cell in your body vibrated with excitement. Neither of you had mentioned your love to anyone, so when you were able to go visit her, the two of you kept up your appearances as best friends until you made it to her home. It was small, nothing extravagant, but it was hers and she was proud of it. Plus, it was private.

Before you knew it, the two of you were in her bed, tugging at each others clothes and tossing them across the room. Your fingers roamed her body as her lips roamed yours. With an arched back and goosebumps across your skin, your whole body filled with ecstasy as her mouth took you over the edge into bliss. When you finally came back down to earth you laid Griselda down underneath you and worshiped her like you had dreamt of for what felt like so many years. With her hand grasping at your hair, beautiful cries escaped from her lips as you made love to her. Her legs shook around your head, dragging out her release as much as you could before she pulled away.

Laying in each others arms, you confessed your love for one another once more, sealing your love with a passion filled kiss.

"I brought you something." You say as you lean over the edge of the bed and grab your bag.

"You did?"

"Yup, just a little something to remember me by and something to show the alliance between our covens." You pull out a circular pendant of your covens sigil. On the left side, a crescent moon, on the right, the trees of the forest completing the circle. In the middle, a star, with a red ruby sitting in the center.

"Y/n, this is beautiful. Thank you." She says, kissing the side of your head.

"Not as beautiful as you are, my love." Her eyes flash purple once more and her lips find yours again.

When your lips part Griselda traces her fingers across the details of the pendant, deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about? I see those wheels turning in that pretty head of yours." You say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I was thinking of a spell I read in our covens spellbook. Magicae Maxima, the Power Spell."

"Why on earth are you thinking of that spell? Zelda that's one of the forbidden spells."

"I know, but think of how much good it could do. How much I could help my people, how much power it could give me."

"Zelda that spell is dangerous. You know how magic works, even just to cast a simple fire spell, you have to give something to get it. The Power Spell, you'd have to sacrifice so much to gain that much power. It's forbidden for a reason-"

"I know, but-"

"No Zel, no buts. Promise me, you won't even think of using that spell. It can be so dangerous. I don't want anything to happen to you. I know you'd use it for good, but it's not worth it. Promise me, you won't ever use it."

Griselda looks down at you and sees the worry on your face, she presses her lips into your forehead and sighs.

"I won't. I promise y/n."

"Good. There are so many other things you can do, to expand your coven, to gain more power, you don't need that spell Zelda. You have it in you to be one of the most powerful witches ever without needing that stupid spell."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I knew the moment I met you that you had more power than either of us were able to understand at the time. You're amazing Zel, it's one of the many things that made me fall so hard for you."

"I love you, y/n."

"I love you too Zelda."

With another shared kiss, the two of you drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The next time the two of you are able to meet again is a few months later. Training to become the coven leaders have amped up for the both of you, making you both busier than ever before. When you finally see each other again, the first thing that your eyes go to is the pendant you had gifted her, sitting on her chest, replacing the old clasp to her beautifully made cape.

"You like it?" She asks when she see's you eye the pendant.

"I love it."

"I wasn't sure what to do with it at first, but I knew I wanted to wear it every day. Then suddenly this idea popped into my head and I thought it was quite a brilliant idea."

"Well, you are quite a brilliant witch so I'm not surprised." You quip.

Griselda pulls you in for a kiss and you melt into her arms.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, y/n."

The two of you spend the day together and as far as you're concerned, it's a perfect day. As the two of you walk hand-in-hand towards the boundary between your territories, you feel a nervousness from Griselda you haven't felt before.

Stopping and turning towards her, you ask her "Are you okay? You seem, I don't know, off all of the sudden." Griselda looks you in the eyes and looks away, a worry spreads across her face that makes your stomach twist. You bring your hand to her cheek and caress it with your thumb. "Zelda, what's wrong? You know you can talk to me, about anything."

"I know," she says, with a sigh. "I just, I don't want you to hate me."

"Love how could I ever hate you?"

"I love you, y/n."

"I love you too Zelda. What's wrong? You're starting to worry me."

With a flick of her wrist, Zelda's covens spellbook appears next to her. She takes the book and it opens to a spell. Zelda looks you in the eyes before she turns the book around.

"There's, there's something I need your help with." A fear creeps into your chest. Looking at the book, you see a worry in its eye. "Y/n, I love you, and I want you to do this with me." Turning around the book you see the Magica Maxima spell open.

[rascal-xo]

The Angel of Death Part 2 - Simon 'Ghost Riley' × Fighter Fem Reader

Summary: You and Simon finally talk which leads to a realization...

Warnings: Violence, language, Action!Fic, bodily injuries, Overlapping of timelines and characters, FLUFF, ANGST

Tags: @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelaninn @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23 @thatchickwiththecamera @glitterypirateduck @glitteryeggalmondherring @allaboutirem0

A/N: Question for the culture… part 3???

You stand leaning against one of the large cement pillars in the arena behind Laswell as she briefs the undercover agents on their task at hand. Under the dim light, sit 4 combat agents, courtesy of the CIA special forces. As Laswell speaks, you can hear the unwavering confidence in her voice, the way she lays out the plan with precision and clarity.

You scoff in your mind, thinking about how you swore you would never go back to the military, and yet here you were, letting the military come back to you. Funny how life worked that way. The Pit, once a symbol of your freedom and a way to leave the past behind, now becomes the stage for this dangerous dance with Al Qatala.

As Laswell continues, your mind drifts back to the memories of the past few days. The reunion with Simon had been bittersweet. The emotions were raw and overwhelming, yet it felt like coming home after a long journey. He understood you in a way that no one else could, and his presence brought a sense of comfort and support that you desperately needed.

But the weight of the mission still hangs heavy on your shoulders. The prospect of facing Al Asad again, of confronting the organization that once held you captive, brings a mix of fear and determination. It's not just about taking down the arms dealer; it's about reclaiming a piece of yourself that was lost in those dark days.

"Y/N?" Laswell's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you refocus your attention on her. "We need you to take the lead on the secondary extraction route. We can't afford any slip-ups."

You nod, snapping back into the present. "Got it, Laswell. I'll make sure everything is in place."

She gives you a reassuring nod before turning back to the agents. "Remember, this is a high-stakes operation. We need to be precise and quick. Any deviation from the plan could put all of us at risk."

As the hours pass, The Pit fills with spectators, the air buzzing with anticipation and excitement. The fights that take place here are raw and intense, but they remain off the books, hidden from the public eye.

This clandestine nature adds an edge of danger to the atmosphere, reminding you of the high-stakes mission that awaits.

In the backroom, you put on your gear, your mind focused on the task at hand. Just as you're adjusting the straps of your tactical vest, you hear the door creak open, and there stands Simon, his presence like a beacon in the darkness.

He looks at you, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "I know that look." he says, his eyes locking with yours knowing your mind. His face is bare for the sake of the mission, which still shocks you a bit knowing the lengths Simon is willing to go for this operation.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the past weighing heavily on your shoulders. "Its the only look I got." you reply, your voice humorous but honest. After a few beats of silence you finally let out a breath you don't realize you're holding. "I'm sorry." You admit, meeting his gaze.

Simon's expression softens as he listens to your voice. He reaches out and gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "We can't change the past, Y/N" he says, his voice tender.

You feel a lump forming in your throat, the weight of the past few years crashing down on you. "I should've said something before leaving." you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know how to deal with everything."

Simon pulls you into a comforting embrace, holding you close. "I should have fought harder for you," he murmurs, his words tinged with regret. "I let you go knowing it was what you needed, but I was angry for not being there for you when you needed me the most.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. For so long, you had carried the burden of leaving him behind, thinking it was the right thing to do.

But now, as he holds you in his arms, you realize that you weren't the only one affected by the aftermath. Simon places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his touch sending warmth through your entire being. "I'll see you out there, Y/N." He says, before walking out.

As you walk towards the door, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and for a moment, you don't recognize the person staring back at you. The face in the reflection is strong, resolute, with eyes that hold a flicker of determination you haven't seen in a long time.

The dim light in the backroom casts a soft glow on your features, accentuating the lines of resilience etched into your expression. Your eyes, once clouded with uncertainty, now burn with a fiery resolve.

In this moment, you see the reflection of the person you were, the person you are, and the person you are becoming.

As you continue to study your reflection, a switch is turned inside of you. The weight of your past no longer bears down on your shoulders, but instead, it becomes the fuel that ignites the fire within. The determination in your eyes deepens, and you know that you are no longer running from your demons; you are facing them head-on.

"Y/N, all ready on your end?" Laswell's voice crackles over the comms.

"I'm ready."

[milfmorrowind]

And I Don't Want to Leave (But I Have to Go)

The duties of the dragonborn are never-ending. If it were up to Brynjolf, they wouldn't exist at all.

word count: 1,791

rating: teen

relationship: Brynjolf/Mailie Chester (original female LDB)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66352933

Brynjolf awoke in a comfortable darkness. While he could not deny the appeal of a warm beam of sunlight, he'd spent enough time underground that a bit of damp and pitch blackness were just fine. Sleepily, he reached out to the other side of the bed, seeking the warmth he knew would lie there. When, however, he found nothing but cold blankets, he snapped from drowsiness to awakened clarity. He bolted upright, quickly looking around to confirm that the bed was empty apart from him. 

"Lass?" Brynjolf called softly. Hearing no answer, he swung his legs out of bed. He grabbed a shirt from the floor and hurriedly pulled it over his head before shoving his feet into his boots and heading into the hallway beyond the door. He was relieved to see it unlit and to hear no conversations from its other end, meaning he hadn't overslept or otherwise missed some major commotion.

He headed down the hallway at a brisk pace. Along the way, he paused as he caught a whiff of cold air. He glanced up and peered through the grate above his head. Through the slats in the metal could just barely make out the stars twinkling in the distant sky. It was still nighttime, then, as he'd suspected. So why had his bed been empty?

He turned a corner. He was nearly to the cistern; hopefully he'd find some answers there. He was just about to take the final turn needed to reach his destination when he realized one of the rooms he'd just passed was illuminated from within.

Brynjolf turned around and approached the door. This was the Guildmaster's office. The light poking out from underneath the door was faint, but it was there. With a lingering sense of anxiety he couldn't quite place, he reached out and pushed open the door.

The office was lit by a single candle sitting on the desk. A few neat stacks of books and paper littered its surface, and the heavy metal strongbox still sat in the far corner of the room. In that sense, the room seemed undisturbed. But just behind the desk, a woman crouched on the floor, back turned to the door as she rifled through a bag.

"Mailie," Brynjolf said quietly.

The woman jumped, startled, then let out a string of curses as her bag toppled over. "Gods' sake, Bryn, you scared me have to death," she said, scooping up the spilled contents.

Brynjolf looked at the items as Mailie deposited them back in her bag. Rope. A whetstone. A pair of knitted stockings. A small paper package tied with string. His eyes moved to the sword buckled to Mailie's waist, and the bow and quiver resting on the chair next to her.

"You're going somewhere," he said. It wasn't a question.

Mailie straightened. "I am." She looked at Brynjolf without quite meeting his eyes. Something-- guilt, maybe?-- seemed to cloud her vision.

Brynjolf closed the door and stepped further into the room. Mailie's arms crossed in front of her as he approached, but she did not back away. Her face was set like stone. Brynjolf recognized that look; It was one of grim determination, and only came out when things had gone very, very wrong.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Dragon attack." For the first time, Brynjolf noticed the small folded parchment near the edge of the desk. "So far it's only hit a fort, but it's been spotted circling a village. I have to deal with it."

"When did you find out about this?" Brynjolf wracked his brain, but he couldn't think of anything from the previous day that suggested Mailie had been preoccupied. She was a much better liar than she once had been, but she wasn't that good. At least, he didn't think she was.

"Just hours ago." She leaned against the edge of the desk. "The messenger didn't arrive in the city until nightfall. Apparently he was quite insistent that he needed to speak with me as soon as possible. Sapphire had to come wake me."

Brynjolf furrowed his brow. "I didn't hear anyone come in."

"That's because you sleep like a cave bear," Mailie replied. "And snore twice as loud. She never did come in, anyway. I woke up at the knock on the door."

"Even through my snoring?"

An eyeroll broke through Mailie's grave expression, and Brynjolf smiled. It always worried him to see her this serious, especially since these things usually ended with Mailie throwing herself onto one sword or another.

"Somehow, I managed," she said dryly. "Regardless, from the jarl's letter it seems to be quite urgent."

Brynjolf put his hand on the edge of the desk, the tips of his fingers a hair's breadth away from Mailie's. He couldn't say he was thrilled by this turn of events. If it were up to him, the jarls of Skyrim would find another hero to come crawling to every time they needed another giant or cave full of bandits dispatched. Unfortunately, dragons were a different matter. He could only hope that Laila wasn't sending Mailie too far. "Which tower was attacked? I'm surprised we didn't hear there's been trouble."

Mailie's breath hitched. "It's in Falkreath."

Brynjolf's hand tightened around the table. "Tell me Siddgeir's sending guards."

"You know he isn't."

"Go through Whiterun and take Lydia."

"There's no time for that." Mailie met his eyes, defeated. "Bryn, you know that I--"

"Don't say you have to go." His voice sounded angrier than he'd expected, but he couldn't find it in him to care. "You don't have to do any of this. You choose to run headlong into danger at the first distress call without the slightest thought as to your own safety."

"I didn't choose this," Mailie bit back. "I didn't choose to be dragonborn any more than I chose to be born. This is my lot, whether I like it or not. I'm the only one who can protect the people of Skyrim from this, and I have a responsibility to do so."

"You have a responsibility to the Guild as well." The words fell out of Brynjolf's mouth before he could think about them. "When we made you Guildmaster, you swore to protect this place and these people. You'll have a hard time doing that on the other side of the bloody country." Without even realizing it, he'd edged closer and closer to Mailie with every word, until he was inches from her face.

Mailie didn't flinch. "I beg your pardon?"

There were times that Brynjolf found Mailie's stubbornness endearing, attractive even. Other times it made him swell with pride. Time like these, however, it only made his heart lurch in his throat. Mailie's face was close enough now that he could feel every breath as it left her lungs. "A Guildmaster doesn't fuck off to go on another adventure every other week."

Mailie's eyes narrowed. "I don't think I appreciate your implication, Brynjolf. I'll remind you of who you have to thank for the Guild's success." She turned away. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a dragon to kill."

Brynjolf was fast running out of ideas. "You can't," he said desperately. Mailie ignored him as she picked up her bow and quiver. "Lass."

Mailie picked her pack up from the floor. With a sigh, she turned back and looked at Brynjolf. "Bryn, when have I ever let you tell me what to do?"

Brynjolf didn't really know why he did it. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe he was finally out of ideas. But without thinking, before Mailie could reach the door, he pulled her in and kissed her.

Mailie's hand landed on his shoulder, and for a moment he was certain she was about to push him away. But then her fingers curled around his upper arm and she pulled him in, deeper into the kiss. He let one arm slip around her waist and another up to her shoulders, fingers tangling in her hair. She was so close, Brynjolf was sure she could feel his heart beating.

Their lips separated, though just barely. Brynjolf tilted his head forward and touched it to Mailie's. "You don't have to do this," he whispered.

She closed her eyes. "You know that I do," she said quietly, voice resigned. "I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice." His thumb rubbed circles into her side. "You can stay, lass."

"Not if I want to sleep at night." For the first time that night, Brynjolf realized just how tired Mailie looked. She'd likely only slept a couple of hours before being woken. "Those people are undefended, Bryn. The jarl won't send men to save them, and even if he did, it wouldn't be enough. I'm their only hope. I've done this before, and I'll do it again."

"And what if you can't?" Brynjolf asked. He swallowed, trying to ignore the burning in his throat. "What if you don't make it back? The Guild is depending on you, Mailes. We can't lose you."

She pulled back. "We?"

He sighed. "I. I can't lose you." He tried to blink away the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but when they closed, he couldn't bring himself to open them again. He was just about to pull away completely when he felt Mailie's hand on his face.

Her thumb wiped away the tear that had escaped down his cheek. "I don't like this any more than you do." She brought their foreheads back together. "But it's necessary."

"What if I came with you?" Brynjolf offered in a scratchy voice. "I'm not too shabby with a blade and bow."

"No." Mailie's voice was soft, but firm. "I need you here, with the Guild." She pulled his head down into another kiss.

Brynjolf forced his eyes back open when they parted. He watched Mailie blink away the welling in the corners of her eyes and shake her head, as if ridding herself of any remaining doubt. He wracked his brain for something even remotely clever or profound to say, but found himself coming up blank. "I love you," he finally managed.

"I love you, too." Mailie kissed him on the nose and stepped back. "I should go."

He watched as she swung her pack over her shoulders and picked up her bow. "If you decide to rob anyone along the way, try not to get caught."

Mailie rolled her eyes. "Only if you promise to keep the Guild somewhat organized while I'm gone."

"Deal." Brynjolf smiled, despite himself. "Be careful."

"I'm always careful," Mailie said dryly. "Take care, Bryn. Don't steal anything too interesting without me."

"No promises there," he replied, and with that, she was gone.