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caker-baker · 1 year

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Peace

“You look beautiful.” The villain murmured, their lips light above the hero’s knuckles before letting go.

“You look hideous.”

It warranted a laugh from the villain, leaving the hero to wonder what was humorous in this situation.

“Shall we?” The villain extended a hand.

And in those fineries that the villain had prepared for them, the hero knew there was no other option than to take the hand, and to dance.

Dance they did, gliding across the floor in a beautiful grace, one might be breathless if they were actually watching.

But the hero knew that they weren’t watching, they were just there, dolls under the villain’s control.

“Do you have to have them here?”

“The other villains and heroes? Yes, I want them to see you.”

“But they don’t see me, not really, not when you’re in their heads.”

The villain made a humming sound, thinking of how best to phrase it.

“Think of it like a trance, they are there, they just can’t move.”

Ah, the hero was wrong. It just made the villain’s ability more horrifying, knowing that their friends were in there somewhere, trapped and waiting to get out, waiting for someone to save them.

And save them they would, the hero just needed to keep dancing.

So they let themselves be dipped, twirled, waltzed around while some lovely orchestra played some lovely song.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to do that to me?” The hero asked. “Rather than…” they couldn’t say it.

“Control the rest?” The villain could say it, of course they could. “I guess it would be. But I don’t want to, not to you. I respect you too much. I love you too much.”

“Don’t say that.”

The lovely song ended.

“What shall I say instead?”

“Say that you’ll let them go.” The hero pleaded. “Say that you’ll end it all.”

Another lovely song began, and the hero, somewhere in the back of their mind, wondered if the orchestra was also controlled by the villain, or if they were just paid handsomely.

The villain didn’t speak for a moment, they simply pulled the hero into another dance.

“I could have taken this whole city by storm.” They began. “I could have each and every civilian in my mind’s influence, and it would be painfully easy. Is that what I’m doing? No. I’m dancing with the person I want, in the place I want, surrounded by people we consider friends, the people who fight pointlessly. I want them to see that I could have stopped them all, that the fighting isn’t a choice so long as I’m here. The city’s greatest enemies in the same room together, and they have no choice but to listen. I’m not a villain, Hero.”

Ok, maybe the villain wasn’t doing the worst thing they could have been doing, but it didn’t make their methods anymore right. It didn’t make this right.

“And you think this is how you get it done? What’s next, world peace?”

“I don’t care about the rest of the world, I care about my corner, I care about this city.”

The second lovely song ended.

“Now what?”

“Now, there’s no more squabbling, they know that there will be consequences.” The villain shot the crowd of heroes and villains a look. “Now, I love how I like, and how I like is with you.”

The hero really didn’t know how to respond, so the villain continued.

“Do you remember fighting me? Back when I could only control one person at a time? The others,” they motioned to the heroes. “always had a group of four, for when I inevitably turned one against the rest. You came alone, you didn’t want to fight your own team, so you faced me by yourself. I knew I couldn’t control you then and there, I would never want to risk destroying the compassion and personality that I so rarely see in the others.”

The hero frowned. “The others have personality, compassion, kindness. That isn’t unique to me.”

In turn, the villain stared. “I’m in their heads, Hero. You shouldn’t lie to me on their behalf. I know the things they think, the anger they have, especially towards you.”

That made the hero step back. “Towards me?”

“They assumed I held my punches when it came to you. It didn’t matter if every other villain didn’t, because I did, and that was enough to earn their…hatred isn’t it, but it’s turning to hate now, as they see you with me, not stuck like them.”

“I didn’t ask you to let me go free.”

“Did you hear that?” The villain said, the message directed towards the frozen crowd, all the while still looking at the hero. “They didn’t ask for my affections, nor did they ask me to do this to you.”

The hero didn’t want to ask, but they wanted to know. “Do they still hate me?” And then another thought crossed their mind. “Or are you lying to me so that I’m swayed to your side?”

“There are no sides, Hero, that’s my whole point.”

They held out their hand for another dance, but the hero refused.

“Let them go, please.”

The villain cast a sweeping glance towards the crowd.

“And you will stay with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is as you wish.”

The crowd began to move again, some in marionette like movements, jerky and delayed, others more fluid, jumping back into the motion denied to them like an old friend.

But no one attacked each other, no one went towards the villain or the hero, no one dared to cross the one who could easily take control like that again.

“My gift to you, peace in the city. And now, we dance.”

The hero took the villain’s hand.

A third lovely song began.

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hazelsmirrorball · 5 months

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PAPER RINGS | Charles Leclerc

SUMMARY: Charles and his long term girlfriend go to the eras tour

FACE CLAIM: Olivia Rodrigo

pairings: Singer Swiftie! Reader x Charles Leclerc

authors note: first formula 1 oneshot! hope you guys enjoy

y/nnn_ just tweeted!

y/n’s instagram post

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc, and 4,050,245 others

y/n kids, manifestation works! got to meet my one true love today at the eras tour, still can’t believe it.

tagged @taylorswift

view all 5,694 comments

y/nsmirrorball mother is mothering with mother

y/nsferrari i’m sorry but i’m crying this is the y/n x taylor content we needed and craved for years

charles_leclerc you’re one true love? what am i? chopped liver?

→ y/n *your

→ charles_leclerc your digging yourself into a bigger grave, love.

→ landonorris *you’re

carlossainz55 thank you for including me in your date! Never would’ve thought that i would enjoy a third wheeling hangout with you two.

→ y/n what can I say? we are the best throuple

→ charles_leclerc please don't make that a thing

→landosssnorris too late for that

taylorswift I’m glad to meet such a sweet soul as yourself, xoxo.

→ y/n love you love you love you

→ user101 I will forever be jealous of taylor swift

→ charles_leclerc get in line buddy

landonorris next time I expect an invite.

y/nlover i’m sorry but y/n’s the queen of manifestation. not only did she manifest meeting her idiot but also finding her dream man. i need to take notes

charles_leclerc instagram post

liked by y/n, carlossainz55 and 950,078 others

charles_leclerc had fun with my lover at the eras tour.

ps. we got paper rings and daylight as our surprise songs.

tagged @y/n

view all 1,437 comments

y/nandlando omg! the friendship bracelets.

y/nbabes I'm currently screaming, crying, puking.

lalalandy/n seven friendships bracelets makes me want to fall into a ditch and die

charlescruelsummer guys! guys! guys! don't you remembered y/n's tweet?

→ charlesxyn "I'll get engaged if we get paper rings and daylight as our surprise song" @charles_leclerc start finding a ring sir.

carlossainz55 thank you for the photo credits on the last one by the way.

→ charles_leclerc please shut up.

username12 wait! are they dressed up as miss americana and the heartbreak prince?!?!?!!?

→ y/n fuck yes! Best couple outfit for the eras tour.

lewishamilton congrats you two!

→ y/n @lewishamilton thank you lewis!

user123 why is lewis hamilton congratulating them. LEWIS WHAT DO YOU KNOW? Speak now.

y/n love you to the moon and to saturn, charles!

wag.updates just tweeted.

charles.updates just posted.

liked by y/n, landosmirrorball, and others

charlesupdates @taylorswift saw y/n's tweet and choose violence and I'm here for it!

view all 573 comments

user126 like how is it possible that she played those two songs?

verstophim what connection does she have to charles, that's something I want to know.

charlesxy/n taylor is just like us!

user21 omg!!!! y/n liked? What does this mean, please y/n. SPEAK NOW.

user101 she is a mastermind

Y/n slowly walked around the parking lot trying to find their car with Charles and Carlos trailing behind her. If she was being honest, she had a lot of feelings going through her head and the thing she was least worried about was finding the car. A big smile plastered on her face as she saw fans walking out of the stadium in the same condition as her. Y/n let out a laugh as she looked down at her socks remembering that Charles had taken her shoes. All she wanted to do was sit down and process the night she had. She was still on cloud nine, not only did she go to the eras tour with the love of her life and her best friend. Y/n had also met Taylor Swift, she still couldn’t believe it.

“Did you guys see the way she looked at me? What does she know? What is she hiding? No, because how is it even possible that she sung those two songs? Out of all her discography, Paper Rings and Daylight? Is she dropping an easter egg? Is she playing with me? Are you getting what I’m trying to say?” Y/n rambled while walking faster to the end of the large parking lot. She ran a hand through her hair desperately trying to understand how it was possible that she had not only gone to the Eras tour but gotten those two songs.

“Y/n” Charles had called for the fifth time in the past minute trying to stop her rant so she would turn around.

“Not but really, Charles. What do you think? Wait, where's Carlos?” Y/n said turning around to face Charles noticing that Carlos wasn’t next to him.

“Do you remember your tweet?” Charles asked nervously while slipping his hands on his front pockets swaying back and forth.

“What tweet? I tweet a lot of things, hun” Y/n asked while furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. She slowly reached for Charles' shoulder, noticing his nerves in an attempt to ease them.

“About the surprise songs” Charles responded searching for her eyes. Y/n squeezed his shoulder, sending him a comforting smile.

“Yeah? I ranted about the surprise songs all the time. Can’t you believe it? Daylight and Paper Rings, insane. Now let’s find Carlos” Y/n responded not getting what Charles was trying to say.

“Mon Cheri, Taylor played Daylight and Paper Rings” Charles managed to let out a nervous chuckle, getting on one knee on the pavement.

“Oh” That’s when it clicked. Y/n moved her hands to her lips attempting to cover any noise that would come out of her mouth. Charles with shaky hands took out the red velvet box from his back pocket showing it to her. Tears started flowing from her eyes as she let out a nervous laugh which Charles followed. Y/n slowly bent down to Charles level leaning into him, both of their teary laughs taking over.

“Y/n L/n, you have been one of my biggest supporters since day one and I am forever grateful for that. You made me the person I am today and I can’t imagine a world without you by my side. I would spend countless eternities with your love. I really don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you, Y/n. Before I met you I thought love would be black and white but now that I have you I know it’s golden. What I’m trying to say is would you do me the honor of spending an eternity with mon cheri. Y/n L/n, will you marry me?” Charles said in between tears as Y/n gripped on him tightly. She shook her head yes as she handed him her hand which Charles gratefully took, slipping a hand made paper ring.

“You didn’t” Y/n laughed while looking at the beautifully done paper ring. Charles smiled back while looking at her proudly.

“The real ring is at home but I thought the paper ring was better for the occasion” Charles replied while pulling her into a passionate kiss.

y/n just posted

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and 1,930,430 more

Y/n Taylor you are a mastermind! Can't believe I got married with paper rings.

tagged: charles_leclerc

user10 OMG OMG OMG FINALLY IM SCREAMING

maxverstappen1 congrats!

landonorris be grateful that i showed him how to do paper rings

user212 my parents are finally getting married

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asmutwriter · 2 months

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The Gangsta's Wife (Part 6)

DESCRIPTION: You complete your first business ordeal as a Shelby family member. Your husband, Thomas, wants to thank you for your effort.

A/N: Was this section of smut overly necessary or was I just horny when I wrote this part? I guess we'll never know

WORD COUNT: 2510

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, blackmail, mild sexism, threat, talk of murder, drinking, sex whilst drunk (able to consent), smut, rough sex, no foreplay, mild breeding kink, pet names (love/sir), creampie, overstimluation, mild dacryphilia

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

Not been proof read - part may change slightly once I've proof read it

The clock chimes 8pm. You take in a breath. You and Tommy had parted ways since you discussion earlier this afternoon. Going about your business during the day. Due to him unable to find a different plan you were going with your choice. So here you were. Standing outside the garrison. You take a deep breath. Going inside you see a man sitting at a table. Looking smug as he drinks a pint.

You go over, putting on a false smile as you sit opposite him. His eyes meet yours before going over your body. His tongue darts out slightly as he smiles. You place your hands on the table, one hand over the other as you keep eye contact with him as hes finished checking you out. "Harry Thompson correct?" he nods "I have some business Id like to discuss with you" he chuckles slightly

"And you are?" he says in an almost mocking tone

"Sorry, where are my manners?" you hold your hand out for him to shake "Mrs Florence Shelby" he laughs again. Taking your hand and shaking it. You place yours back ontop of the one still resting on the table.

"So which one are you married to?"

"Does that matter?"

"I want to know which one sent you to do their dirty work"

"They didnt send me. They dont even know Im here" he nods, leaning back in his chair.

"WHat is it youd like to discuss then?"

"Id like to discuss your children. You have 5 I believe" he laughs

"I have 3. But carry on" a smirk on his face as you keep his eye contact

"Youre right. You and your wife have three children. Alfie, Anna, and William. But if you include the two children you had with your mistress then you have five"

"I dont know what you're talking about"

"So you dont know who Robert and Michael are? Or Rose, your mistress who had your children?" his smile drops. Eyes on yours as you continue talking "they live in London correct?" he goes to stand up

"My business isnt with you its with them" he stands

"SIt down Mr Thompson"

"I dont have to speak to one of their whores. Because that is exactly what you are"

"I said sit down Mr Thompson. Or I start screaming" he looks at you as you keep eye contact with him "how do you think thatll go for you? Given the current location we are in" he keeps looking at you, staying standing. You lean marginely closer to him, hushing your voice slightly so only he can hear you. "You may think you have this city wrapped around your finger but if any of the men in this building think you laid a hand on Thomas SHelby's wife then you better start digging your own grave" he takes in a deep breath. Sitting back down again.

"What is it you want?" he asks, a slight anger in his voice.

"I want you and your men to leave. The same conditionings my husband wants in fact" he grits his teeth

"And if I refuse?"

"One of my men goes and has a little visit to your family. The one up in London. The one we both know you care the most about. And slaughters them. One by one" his eyes dart around the room. You can sense the amount of fear going through his body. "If you leave then both of your families will remain safe. I wont tell my husband about Rose and your sons". You put your hand out for him to shake "do we have a deal?". He looks at you. Your calm behaviour being very different to the anxiety you feel welling up in your body. He reaches a hand out. Taking yours and shaking on the deal.

"Good decision. I'll give you until midnight tonight to leave this place. If you arent out by then... well, you know what'll happen" you smile at him. Standing up "Have a good night Mr Thompson" you leave the pub. Getting back home you open the front door. Taking your coat off and hanging it up. You can hear your husbands voice in the building next door. Given your previous experience of evesdropping you decide that it wouldnt be the best idea. Instead you retire early to bed. taking out a book you start reading.

You place the book down on your bedside table. Unsure of how late it is. But feeling dreadfully thirsty. You try settling down to sleep. Dehydration catching up to you. You mumble slightly as you get out of bed. Heading downstairs. Grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen to head back upstairs. You notice the living room light on.

Poking your head around the corner you see your husband. Whisley in hand as he watches the liquid swirl in the glass. "Mr Shelby?". His eyes look at you. The blue standing out among the darknessof the room. You step inside slightly. Seeing his jacket and waistcoat discarded on the sofa. "It appears to have gone well with Mr Thompson". He nods. Sipping his drink. Placing it onto the counter top he stands up.

"Go back to bed Flo. I'll be up shortly". His voice quiet. You nod. Turning back around. Going up the stairs. Reaching the top step you hear the living room door shut. Looking down the stairs to see darkness. You look downwards. Letting out a soft sigh as you head to your bedroom. Shutting the door and getting under the warm covers.

You wake up the next morning. Letting out a soft groan as you sit up. Hearing happy voices downstairs. Unsual given the normal tone of voice your new family has. AWare of the cold spot next to you. Not unsuaul. He sometimes stayed downstairs or in his own room next door.

You get out of bed. Wrapping your dressing gown round your body as you hear multiple voices. Heading into the living room you see your husband and his brothers. The three of them drinking and smoking. You fold your arms over your torso. Aware that you are still in your night clothes.

Arthur is the first to spot you. Coming over to you. The smell of alcohol on his breath. "Tommy told us what you did. That you helped Harry to fuck off" you chuckle slightly

"I suppose you could put it like that" you smile as he hugs you. Your arms going to your sides. Hanging awkwardly. Moving away he holds up his drink

"To Mrs SHelby"

"Ayy Mrs Shelby" you hear John call out. Your smile growing slightly as they drink their drinks in unison.

"Alright you two. Go on. We've still got stuff we need to be doing over in the shop. I'll be over in a bit". They both down their drinks. Heading past you. Them both smiling widely at you as you hear the front door go. Tommy titls his head as he looks at you. Then heading to his bottle of whiskey he grabs out a second glass. Topping up his one before puring you one. Walking over to you he hands you the fresh glass.

"I take it the plan worked?"

"Harry Thompson left late last night. He was seen getting into a car and driving off with his belongings". He clinks his glass to yours "Well done to your first official business ordeal. You're offically a Shelby" Taking a sip his drink as a soft smile appears on your face. His eyes watching yours as you do the same with the glass. Him standing about a foot away from you. You get the scent of whiskey and smoke from him.

"Thats excellent new Mr Shelvy. I'm glad the plan worked"

"As am I"

"What time did you find out he'd gone?"

"Early this morning. John and Arthur came round to tell me. We decided to celebrate the victory and have been celebrating since" you chuckle slightly. His mind only seeming to have noticed your nigthdress. He glances downwards. Trailing his eyes over the fabric before bringing them back up to meet yours.

He downs the rest of his drink. Placing his glass on the small coffee table. Standing straight again he closes the gap between you. His hand coming up to cup your face. Moving his thumb over your lips. Your cheeks going a soft shade of crimson at the affection. Your eyes still fixed on his. "Drink. Got to celebrate this victory, ey?". You smile, turning your head to the side slightly as you down your drink. He takes the opportunity to start kissing yur neck.

You let out a satisified sigh. Feeling his hand take the now empty galss from you. Hearing the soft clink as he places it onto the coffee table. His hands going to your hips as he holds you close to him. Feeling him start to grow in his trousers. The thin fabric of your night dress leaving very little to the imagination for the both of you. He unties the loose knot in the front of your gown. Pulling it off your shoulders and discarding it onot the floor. One hand snaking your waist. The other coming up and gripping at your breasts. His lips attacking your neck as he begins to massage your boob.

Your hands come up. Gently going to the side of his head. Reminvg it from your neck. Making him look at you "Mr Shelby... we cant here... my sisters..."

"You are my wife. And this is my house. Where else do ypu propose I can fuck you, ey?"

"But what if they see us...?" you whisper "Or even hear us for that matter?"

"I'll be quick" his hands moves from your chest where it was happy resting. Resting it over your mouth as he lowers his voice "All you have to do is not make a sound..." a soft whimper escapes your lips. Causing him to grin. His hands both drop to your hips. Forcibly turning you around. Pushing you to armchair in the room. Your hands going to the back of it as a means to not fall over. Your knees hit the plush seat. He rakes up your dress. Holding it up with one hand as he unbuttons his trousers. You hear him spit, seconds later feeling him rubbing his palm over your core. You whine out. Knees going up onto the chair as you push your hips back into his touch.

A few seconds later and he plunges himself into you. The lack of foreplay making the strecth almost unbearable. Causing you to cry out. The hand holding your night dress up moves. Snaking around your waist as he pulls you flush against him. Holding you up as the other hand covers your mouth. He turns your head to look at him. His dull nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks as you feel tears coming to your eyes. He comfortingly sushes you. Giving you a little bit of time to adjust before he starts to move his hips into yours. The pain going through your body quickly turning to pleasure as you cunt quickly adjusts to him. Your hands come up to his arm wrapped around you. Gripping at him.

Holding onto him for dear life as he continuesly plunges his cock in and out of your needy hole. You shut your eyes. Feeling the tears from your eyes fall down your cheeks. But you dont care. Your so focused on him filling you out that you dont care about the tears staining your cheeks. The dull pain between your thighs. The truly vulnerable and submissive state hes put you in. You only care about him. About how good he feels inside of you. And about how close hes managed to get you to your high.

"SUch a good girl for me. Letting me fuck this pretty cunt of yours. Fill you up with my seed. You deserve it, love. Being such a good wife. You deserve to be filled with my cum".

You subconsciously tighten around his words. Although you cant see it, you can feel the grin adorning his face. The hand from your mouth moves. Causing you to open your eyes. Being met with his dark, borderline sadistic gaze. A soft whine leaves your lips as you try and remain quiet. His thrusts slowing slightly.

Your hands come up. Moving from his arms to hold at his face as a feeble 'please' escapes your lips. A few more tears fall down your cheeks. His thumb quickly wiping them away, resting it gently onto your shoulder as he watches your eyes. Fresh tears quickly appearing as you can feel your high slowly drifiting away from you. His thrusts slow but continueus.

"Please sir...". he brushes the hair from your face. Tucking it behind your ear before placing his hand back over your mouth. Your arm goes around his neck as he continues to hold you flush against his body. Your other hand going to his wrist.

He starts thrusting at a godly speed. You practcily scream. Digging your nails into the flesh f his wrist. He kisses your shoulder. Grunting as he pushes himself deep inside of you. Feeling his cum hit your walls. You feel your hips start to spasm. Your own orgasm hitting you. Helping to milk him dry as he mutters a soft 'fuck' against you. His blunt nails digging into the softness of your cheeks as you tighten around him. You shut your eyes. A few more tears trailing down your face as you come down from your high.

His hand going from your mouth to gently brush the liquid away. You reac your hands out. STeadying yourself on the chair again as he pulls out of you. Watching his seed fall from your folds. He collects the jucies onto his tip. Pushing them back into your hole. You whine out in discomfort. Overstimulation and the dull ache being to much for you. But he thrusts a few more times before pulling out fully. Bringing your nightdress down to cover your intimate part before he puts himself back int his trousers.

Your breathing becomes steady again. Resting down into the chair. Feeling his hand brush your hair out of your face. You open your eyes. A tired smile on your face as you meet his blue eyes. "I have some work to do" you nod. Turning so you can stand up. Him steadying you as you wobble slightly. A slight smirk on his face. Knowing that hes the reason for your unsteadyiness. But your to cock drunk to care at this moment in time.

"I'll see you later then Mr Shelby" he smiles. Nodding as he lets your arm go. Going to the front door as yu hear it bang behind him. Quickly followed by the sound of his voice next door. You give yourself a few more minutes before getting up off the chair. Going upstairs to get dressed.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

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tuituipupu · 8 months

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ok, i was in the shower thinking about the concept/plot for icip mv + my thoughts began to spiral as more layers of unhinged washed over me so if you'll allow me to just place some stupid plot predictions here... *cracks knuckles, clears throat*

so Käärijä is pregnant...

✨ metaphorically ✨ at least.

HE IS PREGNANT WITH THE NEW KÄÄRIJÄ. PREGNANT WITH A NEW VERSION OF HIMSELF.

i don't know if that at least has been theorised already?, but that's what i'm mainly guessing the concept is.

with all the 'coming soon' hints in the staging and on insta? YEAH THE BIRTH OF A NEW KÄÄRIJÄ / A NEW ERA is coming soon, making room for new sounds, new styles and newer audiences.

also preparing nicely for the upcoming album, could be intro: icip?

so now we have that out of the way, here's my icip mv prediction

⚠ WARNING: MAY CONTAIN STUPIDITY, VIOLENCE, SEX. ⚠

Ok so mv starts. the scene is instantly p intense to match how the song starts.

they're (käärijä & tommy) deep in the forest isolated at their very own crazy party 'rave' complete with green flashing lights.

... and they're 'partying' for sure ahem simulating / being pretty suggestive it throws you into it immediately and will piss off parents and homophobes straight away. 👋 hei hei suckers

cut to häärijä waddling into the woodland clearing - he spots tommy and kä *ahem* 'partying' together and immediately gets jealous/protective of our current cha cha cha käärijä (excuse you that's his best bro. bf. bro. dance partner)...

häärijä furiously waddles out from behind a tree into the midst of the rave, revealing himself + trying to separate them (complete with concerned fast eyebrow wiggling expressions from the yellow man)

käärijä gets pissed at this (häärijä why are u here again ruining the vibe and my fun mf) author's note: häärijä is a precious angel stop being mean to him >:((

tommy either hands käärijä a shovel he bought for protection from forest beasts and käärijä hits häärijä round the head with it (lmao no) and they kidnap him / or they just kidnap him minus that lol.

cut to a shot of tommy and käärijä digging häärijä's grave (the grave seems more häärijä shaped to me) as they stare eerily from above shovelling dirt onto the camera from a häärijä in the ground pov - burying him (kind of alive??)

is there some other kind of murder weapon in their hands below??

... at the next slower bit (pre-chorus?) this is where the baby (new era käärijä) is made as they resume the gay agenda.

so my idea is that obviously they can't be TOO suggestive on yt (everyone booed,) so the way they 'make a baby' is to conceive through the art of TOUCHING HANDS. (so romantic) see below:

something akin to the ken's 'beaching off' if you've seen the barbie movie (super gay ;)

then the next section of the song the new käärijä is created/comes into existence and reveals his new image / personality (water birth scene in the lake with tommy helping? lmao)

as soon as new era käärijä meets his maker (current cha cha cha era käärijä,) he wants to murder/destroy him 🗡💥🩸

tommy instantly goes along with this, preferring new era käärijä and the "hey käärijä u wanna party with me?" spoken word part of the song is tommy speaking to the new era käärijä just created.

as soon as "right here right now? yeaaaaahhh..." is spoken and the final intense drop comes, they finally kill present cha cha cha käärijä probs through drowning him in a lake (what is the lake for? idk you decide, i think it's 2 separate murders)

the new era käärijä + tommy finish raving and collapse by the lake.

✨ the end. ✨

#creativity isn't dead guys #also this is all just stupid silly speculations from my mind as it ran free in the shower.#it's fucked up and funny (to me) and has fucked implications #we will get something crazy for sure either way.#so yeah i think all this strange pregnant talk is like metaphorical.#anyway this is how i spend my sundays #yayyyyy #käärijä #tommy cash #it's crazy it's party #icip #häärijä

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corvusalbus93 · 1 month

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Unrest

Author's Note: A short, taking place near the end of the Nephilim crusades. It’s basically about how the Horsemen (or two of them anyway) found together, before offering their services to the Council. Here, Death learns Strife no longer supports their campaign of conquests, as the two talk, after the Nephilim take another world. Strife POV.)

+++

It had been some hours since nightfall, yet it was far from dark. Fires still burned all over town, some eating away at the ruins, while around others the celebrating Nephilim had gathered, to drink and feast. Their howls and laughter echoed through the otherwise lifeless streets to be heard far and wide. Strife tried to pay them no mind. Until recently he would have happily participated, but tonight he had snuck away and returned to the ruins.

It had taken him some time to find the house he’d been looking for. He remembered kicking down the door earlier that day, when the Nephilim army had taken the town. He remembered raising his guns only to find himself staring at helpless civilians. Two parents huddling in a corner, their small child between them, shielded by their arms. The look of horror in their eyes.

Strife tensed at that memory.

He’d stood there, fingers on the triggers, and for the first time in his life, been unable to pull them. And so he’d remained frozen in place, until one of his brethren had stormed in, pushed him aside and done what he could not. He had not fired a single shot today.

Now he’d come back, using the curved shard of some pot to dig up the little garden beside the house. Usually, he didn’t like getting his gear dirty, but currently he couldn’t care less that he was kneeling in the dirt. By the time he'd dug out a shallow hole, Strife heard footsteps approaching him. He didn’t turn around, as out of the corner of his eye he could see a figure emerging from the shadows, one of the Firstborn.

“Is it not a little late for looting?”

Strife’s eyes narrowed and he turned his gaze back to the hole. “Maybe I like the ambiance.”

“Careful. Remember who you are speaking to.” Strife was about to make some snide remark, but for once in his life managed to hold his tongue. That guy wouldn’t get it; after all, what could he expect from one, whose name literally meant ‘Death’. Still, the older Nephilim stepped closer, perhaps only now making sense of the hole’s shape. “A grave? I’m unaware of any losses.”

“It’s not for one of us, okay?”

“A native?”

“...a family.”

There was an uncomfortably long pause, before the Firstborn spoke again, the faintest hint of curiosity lingering in his voice. “Why would you care about them?”

Strife stopped digging. “Why?”

“That’s what I asked.”

“No. Why did we take this realm?” Strife got up to his feet and turned to Death, tossing his improvised shovel aside. “We defeated what few warriors they could muster, when we first arrived, but today was senseless slaughter. So, before I answer you, I want to know why.” This was bold, even for him. However, a growing number of nagging questions were keeping him up each night now. And his last job...no, he didn’t want to think about that right now.

The older Nephilim frowned. “It’s but another world along our path. We take what we need, what we want and move on, as we always have.”

“But what’s the fucking point?!” Strife snapped. “World after world put to the torch and for what?!”

He had seen them, realms and civilizations before the invasion, when he went on jobs between conquests. He’d seen thriving cultures, walked across the lush fields, been on words teeming with life. Until the Nephilim came to burn it all down and replace it with nothing. Nothing but ash and rubble.

It had taken him way too long to start asking why, and it troubled him that he had found no good answer.

“Are we just gonna keep doing this until there is nothing left?! Until all of creation is destroyed?!” It was the first time he uttered such questions out loud, and briefly he wondered, if shouting them into a Firstborn’s face was going to be his last mistake. It didn’t matter. Strife gestured to the house behind him. “These were civilians, parents, children...we had no reason to slaughter them!”

Death, if anything, seemed unimpressed. “You never cared before. And now you are trying to do right by them, pay your last respect to this family?” He sighed. “That won’t change a thing.”

“It’s something.”

“It’s meaningless,” the older Nephilim insisted. “Their souls are in the Kingdom of the Dead and won’t know about this. You did this to ease your own mind.”

“So it’s selfish. Is that what you are saying? That is still something.” Strife clenched his fists. “Now what? I’m gonna get punished?”

For a moment it seemed as if Death was sizing him up. “Tell me; what if there was an alternative to our crusades, another path our people could take?”

“I think it depends on what that entails. Are there new plans?”

“Considerations. What do you know of the Balance?”

Strife shrugged. “Not much. Know about the war between Heaven and Hell, laying waste to realms before some council stepped in.”

“Yes; before they could destroy all of creation.”

“Yeah, something like that." He put on a bitter smile. "Why? Are they pissed we’re now doing such a great job at continuing that legacy?”

The Firstborn folded his arms. “We’ve fought forces of both Heaven and Hell before. It’s only a matter of time before we demand their full attention. And that of the Charred Council.”

"That can’t end well for us. So what? We’re gonna make peace, settle down?” He had trouble picturing Death using his scythe on crops rather than people. He had trouble picturing what he himself would do. Strife was a killer, through and through. While his views on their crusades had changed, the urge to fight and kill was still there, probably always would be. Death seemed to think much the same.

“I doubt peace would agree with us. But you are right in one respect; as it is now, we’re just blindly destroying everything in our path. That needs to change.”

Strife recalled hearing him argue with others of the Firstborn weeks ago, though hadn’t caught enough to know about what. Was Death of all people, honestly sharing his doubts? And agreeing with him? It was nice and all, but it wouldn’t matter much, unless...

“Does Absalom see it the same way?”

Death’s eyes twitched ever so slightly, but the younger Nephilim caught it, nonetheless. “Not yet. He’s as stubborn as the rest of us. At least you and I aren’t the only ones, who are...dissatisfied.”

There were others? Somehow this revelation made Strife feel a little lighter. It wasn’t just him going crazy, or maybe there were others just as crazy as him. He was happy with either. “So, what now?”

“I’m looking into a few options. Ways we might end this.” Death looked over his shoulders to the fires, around which their brethren were still feasting, before he gave Strife a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

With that he departed, disappearing back into the shadows. For a while Strife looked after him, listening, until he could no longer hear any footsteps. What options was he talking about? Strife somehow doubted Absalom would want to end their crusades any time soon, no matter what arguments the Firstborn had. The original Nephilim feared neither Heaven nor Hell, and probably not some council, no matter their authority.

In that case, how far would Death go? A coup? If he found enough supporters, it was certainly an option, though it would mean Nephilim fighting Nephilim.

Strife walked into the house. The bodies were still how he’d left them, huddled together in the corner, though the blood had long dried. He began to untangle them, carefully so, as if trying not to cause further harm.

How far was he himself willing to go?

Frankly, he wasn’t sure, but their campaign of conquest had to end, or countless more worlds would burn like this one. Or the Nephilim would eventually meet their match. Heaven, Hell, Makers; if they could make treaties, how long until they decided to put their differences aside just long enough to deal with them? Even if they didn’t, Absalom would eventually try to conquer the two kingdoms, of that he had no doubt. And that was a fight Strife was not sure they could win.

Whatever Death was planning, perhaps it was the better alternative. The smaller evil in the long run.

Finally, he’d untangled the bodies from one another, and one by one he carried them to the shallow grave. The parents were first, placed so they would be facing each other. The child was last. As he walked outside, Strife looked at the small bundle in his arms.

He had no trouble fighting and killing demons, angels, beasts, creatures of the void or any other warrior standing in his way; he enjoyed it, the bloodshed, the thrill. But not this. He’d found his line. Or maybe he had just finally realized that there had to be a line. It made him sick to his stomach to think how often he’d already crossed it, and before he knew it, he was cradling the bundle, as he stepped into the garden.

Gently, as if afraid to hurt it, he placed the child in between the other two bodies, before putting one arm of each parent around it, mimicking their final embrace as best he could. Nephilim didn’t really have funeral rites, not beyond just burning the bodies, which was the most common practice, since everything tended to be already on fire when they were done. But something about burying them this way felt right. The first thing to feel right in some time.

+++

This had been meant to serve as a flashback in my discontinued Darksiders Pariahs-story, but I thought it works as a standalone too. Hope you enjoyed.

#darksiders #darksiders death #darksiders strife #darksiders nephilim #darksiders pariahs

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leafkingofbirds · 20 days

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Next chapter Preview: Eclipse Edition!

In honor of the total solar eclipse today, have this snippet I just finished writing! 😄

**this is still a first draft and you may find typos. But I am open to feedback & suggestions! 🥰

***

Somehow, Kieran winds up at the base of Sir Monty’s favorite tree. On his knees, his heart pounding, staring blankly at the dirt but seeing nothing. Too lost in his own mind and the troubles of his soul.

Give me peace, he begs whatever unseen force rules over life and death. Give me clarity. I must be everything Ella needs me to be.

But there is no divine intervention. Only himself, alone. As it has always been, since the death of his mother.

He would have sought his mother's grave, but the royal mausoleum is buried beneath the rubble of the destroyed Full Moon Chamber.

Instead he has come to Sir Monty’s. The last parental figure he would ever have.

His oldest friend is gone to the tyrant’s side. Whether Oleander has betrayed Kieran or has some plan up their sleeve doesn’t matter. Oleander isn’t here to give any of their sage advice.

Dear Longclaw has her own heavy grief. Even her big heart is weighed down with the loss of not only the last of her beloved family – as abhorrent as Radiance was – but the loss of her own sense of self. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for her help, even if she was currently capable of giving it.

Ella would try to be there for him. But to go to her would be worse than dealing with it alone. Her heartless state is but more evidence of his failure and his guilt.

“Mother,” Kieran gasps aloud without meaning to. A deep-set plea to a woman he had not set eyes upon since he was almost too young to remember and who will never answer his cries again.

The word only opens the wound inside him, digging deeper, ripping open old wounds until they bled anew. His mother is the reason for all of this. Jack is the reason.

As if called by Kieran's very thoughts, he hears soft footsteps in the grass cautiously approach behind him.

“So this is where you ran off to,” Jack muses. His voice is subdued. A hush has fallen over the entire place in the wake of the battle, an aura of death and defeat.

“Leave me,” Kieran growls without turning around.

Instead, the footsteps only come closer. To Kieran's shock and irritation, Jack kneels before the small square of stone at the base of the old, broken oak.

A stone marker had been installed at the base of the tree. Oleander had quietly decided upon the wordering and installed it themselves, after Kieran had irritably snapped at them “I don’t give a damn; do it yourself!”

It was not enough to describe all that Sir Montgomery was in life, but then, no headstone would ever be able to capture the entirety of a man’s soul.

Here Rests the Most Honorable

Sir Montgomery Snow

Who Gave His Mortal Life

In Service to the Moon Court

For a long moment, Jack gazes at the headstone in silence, his expression intense and unreadable. He looks almost angry.

Kieran braces himself to hear Jack say something vicious, and knows he won't be able to hold himself back this time if Jack speaks disrespectfully about Sir Monty before his very grave.

Then, Jack sighs deeply, hands on his thighs, and hangs his head. Kieran peers at him curiously.

“We have both suffered the loss of the most important people in our lives,” Jack says finally. He glances up at Kieran ruefully, his expression for once vulnerable and sincere. “Haven't we?”

Kieran can only glare at him.

Jack looks back toward Monty’s headstone. “I want to say I regret what I've taken from you. But the truth is, if I had not killed Monty, he would have killed me. And I can't apologize for not allowing that to happen. Not honestly. Because I was not just fighting this battle for myself, and I owed it to those people in there that I would let nothing and no one stand in my way. No matter how noble.”

There's a silence where Kieran considers leaping at him at closing his hands over Jack’s throat. But there isn't enough energy in him now. What would be the point?

“But I regret the pain I have caused,” Jack says, in a way that makes Kieran think he's never apologized before in his life and it's physically painful for him. “I know that's foolish. I can't wish the past undone and know I would have changed nothing, all at the same time.”

“You wish it hadn't come to this,” Kieran manages to say, surprised at how rough his voice sounds, how close to tears. He can't even look at Jack.

“Yes.”

Kieran scoffs. “So do I.”

Not that it mattered what any of them wished. Wishes are futile things, even for Fae.

“Nothing I can say will undo the damage I've done. Believe me, I'm well aware,” Jack says bitterly. “But I want to say this anyway: I was wrong about you. I was wrong about so many things that it makes my blood boil to look back on it. About Sir Montgomery and Eisa. About the right way to fight for equality in this realm.”

“You were wrong about Ella,” Kieran reminds him snappishly.

Jack has the gall to look surprised. Then embarrassed. “I…yes.”

Kieran raises his brow expectantly, demanding a better answer than that.

Jack sighs explosively and runs a hand through his hair. “I thought her addled at best, foolishly naive at worst. I thought you were like every other Fae I had ever had the misfortune of meeting, who had dazzled and enthralled an unwitting human into doing your bidding. But…you truly love her, don’t you?”

“With all that I am.” Kieran feels his hands clench into fists. “Ella has the most pure and genuine heart for others I’ve ever known a mortal to have. And a stubborn, inner strength that has never ceased to impress me. She is braver than any Fae I have ever met. That you misjudged her angers me even more than being misjudged. And that she is in my palace right now, heartless, where she should have been safe, angers me more than anything else.”

“You feel like you failed her.” It’s a statement, not a question. Jack gazes at him evenly.

“I did fail her,” Kieran snaps. “She felt she had no choice but to use the Immortality Curse, because this realm is so dangerous for mortals. I didn’t do enough to ensure she felt safe among Fae. I wasn’t able to break her curse, despite my promise that my love would be strong enough to save her. And yes, I ignored the threat of your Eclipse and the suffering you endured, as generations of Moon Court heirs have done before me. I own that mistake as wholly mine. But, Jack - it was your arrogance and prejudice didn’t want to believe Fae lives were in any way worth sparing. You came to kill us without knowing us. Without giving us even a chance.”

Jack’s brow wrinkles. “To be fair, that is exactly how mortals have been treated by Fae for the entirety of history.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Jack looks contrite. “No. It doesn’t.”

“I'm glad we can agree on something,” Kieran mutters.

“Perhaps that's why I was too late to save my father,” Jack muses quietly, as if to himself. “His innocent life, spent in payment for my sins. I live now only because you demand it, Kieran - else I would fall on that damned sword as penance. And I will do what I can to help fix this. But some things I can't fix. And for that…I truly am sorry.”

Kieran's eyes fill with tears, hot and angry. He can feel Jack’s gaze on him, and doesn't meet it. His emotions war in such a furious swirling tempest he can't keep track of any of them - he doesn't even try to name them.

What strikes him, though, is how much of Jack's words mirror Kieran's own internal guilt.

An innocent life paid the price of my arrogance.

I would fall on my sword for my failure.

Some things I can't fix.

Kieran senses himself at a fork in the road. He can do what his old self would have done - the bitter, broken, cold version that used viciousness to isolate himself and wallowed in his own misery - and rebuff Jack’s attempt to repent. Jack would live, but they would be forever strangers. Forever estranged.

Or he can be the man Ella always believed him to be. The man Kieran strives to live up to.

Kieran lets out a long sigh. “I can’t forgive you, Jack. Not yet. But I accept your apology. I believe it’s sincerely offered.”

“If nothing else, know that I am a man who means what he says.” Jack’s level gaze doesn’t waver. He shows no sign of discomfort from kneeling so long in the dirt, even though the gashes Kieran had delt to his flank are barely scabbed over. Up close, Kieran can see the disciplined way Jack holds himself. The quiet confidence of a true warrior. This has been his life's sole purpose, and Kieran realizes, just now, how broken Jack must also feel.

“We are two of a kind that way,” Kieran answers quietly.

Jack huffs a short laugh, then grows serious again. “Kieran…for what it’s worth? I’m sorry for what happened to Ella. I hope, one day, she will be restored. And on that day, I will ask her forgiveness as well.” Jack climbs to his feet and idly brushes off his knees. “I think my chances will be better if I wait until then.”

The harsh bark of a laugh that escapes Kieran's throat just then doesn't slow Jack's steps, and soon Kieran is alone again beneath this silent, doomed tree.

His laugh turns into a sob.

His hands claw the grass and hard-packed earth as if he could tear it away. Rip open the grave beneath his feet and demand it all to be different, for fate to change according to his will, for the chance to go back in time and undo his mistakes, to unravel all the terrible things that have happened.

But he’s powerless now, and his hands can no more open a hole to bury himself than they could bring back the dead.

Kieran puts his forehead to the earth in defeat, and lets himself weep like he has not done in a hundred years.

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viewsbourg · 11 months

Text

Breaking the silence ( Shinybeyzer / Mc )

⚠disclaimer⚠

Do not witch hunt or harass shinybeyzer / shinymc / any other aliases they go under . Many things I will claim later on in the post can only be alleged as a lot of evidence has been lost from the deletion of my old discord account ( 0rbrot#5083 ) , their deletion of their old blog ( Shinymc ) , and their deletion of the current blog ( Shinybeyzer ) . this post will contain passages about manipulation , emotional abuse , and mentions of suicide and self harm . Everything detailed below is my own experience and it may vary between people

TLDR at the bottom

this will be the last time I talk about this unless this somehow manages to outrage me more . but I feel like this whole ' goodbye letter ' is just the pure embodiment of manipulation .

Here is their final letter to me .

it starts off by guilt tripping me , ' you can block me ' as well as the later part where ONCE AGAIN they assume that I hate them , or that I'll forget about them .

guess what ? I'm never forgetting you . I would never forget someone who manipulated me for 4 years and drove me near insanity just from the sheer amount of times I needed to repeat that fact . Then gauging the fact that I " sent her away " as if I hadn't warned them hundreds of times that I would cut them off if they kept going .

Then they pull the sympathy card . " I won't hate you " . No shit , you're right , you have no reason to , I'm not the one who made your life the way it is , I'm not the one who enabled it either . The reason the truth hurt so much is because you're living in god damn denial . the truth hurts , yes , but if you never face it , you'll only keep digging your grave .

once again , assuming I'll be outraged . that I'll ask them to never talk to me again . Basically just saying this to ask me to prove them wrong , but you know what ? you're right this time . Never talk to me ever again .

and finally , they definitely weren't the bad person in this situation , see ! they're wishing me happy pride month ! ! how sweeeeeeeet ! ! ! /s .

Sorry , the first part was rather emotional . But I've got a lot of things I want to provide now that this person has left tumblr , again .

it's rather hard to provide withstanding evidence for emotional manipulation , as it is a gradual thing and difficult to prove with as few screenshots , but I'll still try my best .

I've been friends with Shiny since late 2019 ( 4 years ) , we met through the AF / PR community ( now Stars Align ) On discord , most messages still being there , mostly being a relatively positive friend ship until 2021 ( below ) where they were chased out of the community for being hyper - sensitive to jokes and criticism and not being willing to listen to others ( will bring up later ) .

before long , I was greeted with a long message detailing about how I was their only friend left , and how much they loved me and needed me in those trying times . Unfortunately I have no evidence to provide so feel free to not believe me on this one .

Our relationship turned sour quick as we'd argue regularly . I set my boundaries straight and refused to blindly accept them without criticizing them for their actions at the time . this continued on relatively often but I never paid mind to it . but it only got significantly worst .

Their manipulation tactics :

they will claim that they have suicidal thoughts and need your help

they will claim nobody else accepts them , they will bash themselves for their looks and / or state of being ( unemployed , living with parents )

they will claim that they have no other friends despite being them having many readily available to use as a speaking vessel whenever you intend to block them

A lot of evidence for the claims above have been unfortunately lost from our earlier conversations and may not be evident at first , once again , i apologize for being unable to provide full proof for all of my claims .

All these actions are used to gauge your sympathy , or to pity you into caring . If you do not reciprocate , they will :

They will exaggerate your words . ( ex : We should stop being friends ➞ You hate me and want me to die )

They will assume that you dislike them because of X reason ( their words : being ugly , having no friends , etc .)

Double down and claim to go cry , self harm or kill themselves .

They will ignore your points in favor of the above .

their selfishness : Shiny is an incredibly selfish person , even if you are there in their time of needs , they won't treat you better than a stranger . Despite the superficial amount of support they give you , they don't want to treat you like a person with their own thoughts , or even care about what others need / want .

[ These conversations happened while I delayed a roleplay mission from a discord server I and friends created to roleplay fighting missions . They god mad that I wasn't willing to upload the mission until the members of the group got a hang of the concept of role playing , as some were new to it ]

[ Below : this is just childish ]

3 . they will never change .

They might tell you that they're in a horrible position , and that they're way of living everyday on their phone is bad , but don't let that fool you , they don't want to change .

Despite telling you they're changing or that they've changed , their behavior has remained the same for the 4 years I knew them . You might say " ooh well , changing these fundamental and integral parts about oneself is quite difficult and requires a lot of willpower " . That's true ! That is difficult . But you know what's not ? Working 20h a week

Despite this , you might tell yourself that you can still help them . Put their life back together , fix them , even . But I'm sorry . I have not observed any change in their behavior except for short moments where they act nicer while still making excuses to avoid changing .

Miscellaneous :

Things that belong a bit everywhere .

[ Below : refusal to change ]

[ Below : " Evil Self " ]

[ Below : Sheer breakdown and respectful response . ]

[ Below : " They go easy on me , but you don't " , referring to how I told them to get help . ]

TLDR : Shiny is a selfish , manipulative , abusive , controlling , lazy and childish 23 year old . And from my experience , they only need friends to justify themselves and validate their actions blindly . They do not desire to change despite constantly insulting themselves for the way they are . And finally , they manipulate and emotionally abuse their friends for the benefits without reciprocating the feelings in any meaningful way beyond telling you so .

But actions speak louder than words . And so far , I've only heard silence .

hello ! this is possibly the only edit i will make in regards to this situation , since theyve returned and my post has gotten a lot more attention . i posted this edit in reposts but i'd also like to add it here for simplicity's sake

the edit :

I honestly believe the original post is outdated , and written in a time where i was incredibly upset and hadn't yet had time to process any of it .

Though most of it still stands true , I want to stress that this was my personal perspective of my situation at the time . I never got to detail a lot of other things since at the time I just cobbled whatever I could to try to Express my frustration .

If you can , please find other sources as well to form a more conclusive opinion of the matter .

As well , my post / this thread will only ever detail what's happened between me and her during the years 2019 - 2023 . I do not wish to interact with them further . I also will not be updating it since it's no use digging something from the grave , if they say theyve changed , use your personal judgement for that , not information I have to provide that dates months if not years old .

As well as well , do not harass anyone who associates with shiny either . People are entitled to their own decision so being friendly with shiny is absolutely none of your business .

( added from original ) I'd also like to express that you should be allowed to want to be friends with shiny , but please be mindful of the way they interact with you , do not feel obligated to stay their friend just because of XYZ . A friendship should be mutual , one where both benefit , you should feel equally valued as how much you value shiny . if you feel like you are only getting frustrated , or feel unable to help them no matter what you do , its okay to tell them when you want to end it on the spot .

Thank you !

#Shinybeyzer #Shinymc

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goonflower · 7 months

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moodboard and snippet of my current wip

basically an exploration of nancy's jealousy over robin from a different angle, where she's jealous of robin&barb rather than robin&steve. featuring slow burn enemies/annoyances to friends to lovers ronance, (past?) bancy, nancy's grief and comphet.

+ bonus image of random planned additional tags

(ID: for second image:

maybe the real love triangle was the homoerotic friends we made along the way

barb holland haunts this narrative gayly

a conscious overuse of brackets

is it gay to wanna smooch your dead best friend? 🤔 *emoji of person with a raised eyebrow in a thinking stance*

breaking news: lesbian tries desperately to be hinged… and fails

a hodgepodge of metaphors and colours and themes)

ID/text of first image under cut

"Alright this is stupid, us ladies will stick together, unless… You think we need you to protect us?" Robin quips. Steve gives a sarcastic, annoyed smile like Robin caught him red-handed. Nancy thinks Barb would be proud. Of Robin. She thinks if Barb were here to see this, she'd smile shyly. At Robin. The thought has a bitter, acidic aftertaste. With a large, toothy grin, Robin walks away from Steve, the victor. Nancy follows, coiled up tight like a spring, mind full of Barb and Robin.

She bets Robin made Barb laugh, maybe harder than she did with Nancy. She bets Robin, with her intelligence, her rambling and tomboy style resonated with Virginia Woolf like Barb did, in the way Nancy never quite could, no matter how many of Barb's annotations she memorised and parroted. She bets Robin made Barb swoon, that Robin is a better kisser than Nancy.

(She bets Robin would choose to speak, would never even think to die when she could just speak.)

It stays with her the whole day, that horrid aftertaste. In fact, it only grows and grows - when Robin confesses to struggling with social cues like Barb did, when they're in the library surrounded by the memory of Barb and Nancy can't help but wonder if Robin feels her too. She finds herself fracturing under her growing animosity. It grows larger the more Robin doubts her (everyone always doubts her, until it's too late). Nancy hates Robin, her honesty, her rambling, her dumb attempts at humour and most of all, she hates Robin for making her feel like this, for digging up old graves.

#wip #current wip #stranger things #nancy wheeler #ronance #robin buckley #bancy #barb holland #wlw #barb x nancy #nancy x barb #my girl nancy is a gay angsty mess #thats it thats the wip #comphet nancy wheeler my beloved #moodboard

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pulpandgristle · 6 months

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V: A CITY ON A HILL

Pilot ID: Matthias Shawcross, third-generation bioframe veteran of the Mourning War

Status: Inactive (Honorable discharge)

Asset Class: Bioframe, bipedal combat model, low-gravity configuration (Deceased)

Site of Asset Decommission: Colony Veritas, Bay of New Antioch aquatic terraforming facility

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

Citizen: Intissar bint Yushib

Homeworld: Yushib

Status: Active (Yushib, shore of the Sea of Lilies)

Current Assignment: Field technician, translator and diplomat (Septarchy occupation)

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

Begin transmission.

Greetings from the Sea of Lilies. To my comrades in the Periphery, blessings and salutations. To the people of the Septarchy, listen closely.

I am Intissar bint Yushib—Intissar, the daughter of Yushib, the Jewel of Achernar, Shelter at River's End, my homeworld. You would slander Her as "Colony Veritas". I will do Her no such dishonor.

The Septarchy tribunals that discover this message will likely know who I am. I have worked alongside them for many years. If you are listening, Executors, you may consider this my resignation.

I speak today with pride and love. In the name of my mother and all her mothers before her, I hereby renounce my vows to the Septarchy, vows that were extracted from me unwillingly, through pain and coercion, and in their place I choose to bear the banner of Yushib, a free world of the Periphery.

There is an estuary, not far from here, whose shape mirrors the transit of Adila, Yushib's moon. The arc of the river follows naturally into the sea, a near-perfect parabola. My family and I have tended to that estuary for more than two hundred years. My ancestors sculpted its banks to honor Adila in her travels.

Today, I was supposed to demolish that estuary and bury a leviathan in the upturned silt. I will be doing no such thing. That animal will rest, in time, naturally, as all dead things do . . . but not until I am done. Not until there are words as inalienable as the estuary.

Not until you understand.

At this very moment, Yushib is changing. Being changed. Scarred. The Septarchy calls this mutilation "terraforming"; they intend to flood my homeworld's rivers, to call down rains and salts and metals and build a hive for their leviathans atop Her corpse. My family's work will be wiped away along with several million lives if they succeed in this task.

The estuary is a statement. It carries knowledge and intent. During the initial invasions, my people used it and many other landmarks to plot orbital trajectories and cement the paths of celestial bodies as an inalienable truth. Stone carvings could not be disrupted by electromagnetic bursts, and Septarchy pilots were too ignorant to read them.

Today I was the escort of Matthias Shawcross, a perplexing man who I found endlessly fascinating. He had a curious build, mantis-like, dead-eyed, stretched along the spine by years of microgravity exposure. He was one of the Septarchy's heroes. He conquered Yushib astride a weapon too terrible for living memory. He and I were to conduct a burial together.

I have obliged him the burial, at least.

Shawcross was in need of my people's help. His war machine is very sick, you see. It can hardly complete reentry without injury, a pitiable animal by the Septarchy's definitions. With the combined force of earthmoving equipment and targeted kinetic bombardment, we were to put it out of its misery.

I remember him so clearly, watching me from the edge of estuary. He encouraged me, called me words I will not repeat, and held his service weapon with such sickening confidence. Of course, if he had his way, I would have fallen into his leviathan's grave as soon as I had finished digging it.

He was merciful by Septarchy standards. Nowadays there is little need for pretense. Perhaps he was the sentimental type.

This burial would be a claiming of sorts. An annexation in miniature. Septarchy leviathans are unbothered by physical death, and when they become useless they simply cease to move. The mechanisms of urgency and war proceed unbidden, impotent, confined within their hulking shells. They are buried as testaments—and to poison the worlds of the Septarchy's enemies.

Shawcross intended to destroy the path of Yushib's moon with that final gesture. He would destroy the estuary my family has tended to since Earth still spoke to the Periphery, since before my ancestors engineered a dozen calendars to pray to the rhythms of a dozen setting suns, since before my great-grandfather returned to me in the last year of his life, having finished a sixty-year Hajj and come home with only a handful of sand, equal parts Arabian soil and post-nuclear glass.

Septarchy leviathans are poisonous by design. They bleed radiation and oil and solvents and anger, and bullets if they are provoked enough. Man undergoes the same transformation with extra steps, using proxies, animals of rock and plastic that he chooses to call tools. The Septarchy are simply cruel enough to bend thinking creatures to this purpose. The change is unremarkable otherwise.

The Periphery makes no such concessions. Even the inanimate can carry the will of the holy. My plow, my trowel, my mother's knives, these are animals of a type, born from Yushib and Her sisters, hewn out of Her metals and Her plant fibers and Her human attendants. They are engines of potential inspired by mankind's connections to the divine, limitless and undirected and beautiful.

They are not leviathans. They are not bombs. The power to wage war should only be humanity's burden, but the Septarchy have spread that terrible duty to others unfit for the task. They would make the rivers bloodthirsty if they possessed the means. Perhaps they do.

Shawcross called himself intelligent. The Septarchy claims to teach, but I have only kept the pieces that they fused to my people. I have learned a cumbersome dialect whose words fit sharp and unwieldly in my mouth. I have learned that the children of Yushib will not be remembered because we have not done anything worth remembering. I have learned that the Septarchy are bad liars.

I have learned so much about funerals.

When my grandmother passed, it was a special occasion. I think of it happily. Mother taught me the Ṣalāt al-Janāzah and I wore a beautiful gown to the proceedings. There were figs in bloom on the river's edge when we returned her to Yushib. That night, I had them roasted with honey and almonds over dinner. Mother was proud of me.

I will name my daughter after my grandmother when the time comes. Even when I was young, I could not resent her leaving us. That day remains one of the best days of my life, because I was there, and so was she, and now we are together on Yushib. She did not have to see the orbital strikes, to see my mother's body reject a prosthetic hand. To see the mosque burn and crumble under Adila's light.

Every sweet fruit is my grandmother now. It makes me smile.

Mourning is supposed to be clumsy, raw, upsetting but ultimately healing. Colony Veritas has torn that tapestry of feelings apart. There is no organic process now. Even the agony is extracted with ruthless efficiency. Desecrated ashes flung over cliffs. Men dumped from airships into mile-wide ditches. There is no river, no tree to cry underneath.

You have made me an accomplice. My prayers are reduced to tools, to hammers, the enhanced hands of an efficient laborer who works not for rest and family and worship but for the drudgery of more work. I was made into the final link in a chain of predictable, reproducible human disassembly. Yes, he is blessed. Now, he goes.

I remember it so clearly, hearing the hammer click back under Shawcross's thumb.

I pause. He barks another slur, the swine. His settler's words scrape surly and abrasive against the afternoon air. I have missed my midday prayer for this. I tell him so. He shoots me in the gut.

Yes, your pilot betrays me. Yes, he tackles me, threatens to defile me and my world, and yes, I slice open his throat with his own combat knife, clumsily unsheathed and pressed to my belly but reclaimed with a single twisting grasp. He stains my hijab with the hatred and blood and radiation that pours in maroon curtains through his opened self. Yes, he is blessed. Now, he goes.

Next.

The Septarchy would strip Yushib bare. It is just a stepping stone to them, not a Mother, not a Living World, not a jewel placed in the sky for humanity to cherish. In another time, we could have held that jewel together. Perhaps later, in a distant time, we can try again. But not yet. Not while this is the fourteenth burial I have made in three years, and another hundred are yet to come. Not while I have to practice letting go of the dirt so that I can finish burying mother.

I want so badly to mourn, but I have lost all that is inside me to mourn with. The Septarchy has taken even grief from me. I will never forgive that, and Yushib will not either.

My mother taught me well. She said that the universe is a patient judge, and that She is not kind to the guilty.

Your pilot's leviathan still breathes, diseased and weak. Frail. A man, I choose to believe. He wheezes in the dry air.

I stumble to my feet, legs trembling, and fall backwards over the edge of the leviathan's grave. We sound alike, him and I. Two castoffs of empire stuck in another ditch.

As I fall into his cavernous chest, a cockpit gutted for parts until it is raw bone and searching nerves, I think of my grandmother, and her rasping sandpaper laugh, and her shawls, and her holding my mother in all those photos, still so alive and bright and small, and the pastries that the two of them taught me to knead by hand on Eid al-Fitr.

He catches me. I collide with the embrace of another living thing, too weak for contempt, or perhaps too strong for it, even now. The kindness of the act destroys me.

He says I can be healed. I accept, and I weep at my fortune. I have finally learned something of value from the Septarchy.

We will stay together, I think. I intend to return home—my wounds are survivable and besides, mother needs me—but Yushib will decide when. Let the hours come. I trust Her more than anything. The Sea of Lilies can hold the leviathan.

I remember what the Septarchy taught me of the pilots. I have mimicked their rituals in my own time, and the leviathan can see that. I have nestled in him, here, in the estuary, beneath the water, where he can breathe for me and I can keep him company. He weeps too, in his own way. Shawcross wielded him without care. But I am not Shawcross.

The current is warm. The blood is washing out. Slowly.

He feels gentle. I am at peace in him, and he cradles me. Mother cradles me. Grandmother cradles me. Even your leviathans surrender to the land, Executors. My family has stolen this one.

We will not surrender. Not ever again.

The suns will rise tomorrow, my skin will knit closed, and I will live. The leviathan will sleep, patient, simple, and he will live. Yushib will turn for another year. She will always live. Beyond the Periphery, beyond the Septarchy, beyond war, beyond blood, the Jewel of Achernar will shine, a jasper marble in the infinite sea of creation, stronger than all of you. My Mother will live.

My people will live.

Forever.

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If you can, please donate to the PCRF to help Palestinians in Gaza, the West Bank and abroad. Every dollar counts.

#my writing #biopunk #flash fiction #mecha #scifi #science fiction #microfiction #gristlebits #queer artist #muslim characters #cw: body horror #cw: gore #sarcoclast

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grilledkatniss · 5 months

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Okay so I'm just now catching up on whatever this "why is she shading Joe if she's happy in her new relationship omg" and the comparisons with Lover's I Forgot That You Existed's reactions of "why would she feel the need to come after Calvin if she's in a happy relationship omg" and...

Alright, listen. Here's my super fresh out the over hot take: have we forgotten who we're talking about? Melancolia, and digging up the grave another time, and never leaving well enough alone, and remembering it all too well, and looking back, and recalling now, and seeing it all now that it's gone, and wishing she'd realized what she had, and the whole ass concept of midnights is her dealing with the past and coming to terms with the series of events (happy or unfortunate) that led up to where she is now. It's her coping and doing that hindsight is 20/20, introspective psychoanalytic revisiting of the past, a terribly underappreciated skill characteristic to someone who's very emotionally intelligent. She's like an Olympic Gymnast in emotional maturity and intelligence at this point, and as such she never stops training and practicing -as in, she never stops reminiscing and taking apart what was and isn't anymore, like someone who's trying to figure out what didn't work out, what was the last straw, where were the signs she missed, what should've gone differently, how they could have fixed things, etc etc- It's her niche, her field of expertise and trade mark. Why is it becoming an issue now? Like, our capacity for empathy is super selective, honestly.

Also, now knowing how long it'd been shelved, there's a new bigger book of itemized speculations from the public, many of which will hardly ever get any sign of official recognition, much less one of direct confirmation.

It was probably one of those songs that was meant to be just for her and never released, or that didn't fit any album yet. Hell, it was probably what nudged her into starting a whole new album after an entire year of putting out rerecordings. Maybe she was already well underway designing the concept for the album, maybe the concept was already set, maybe this one at the moment fit said concept and was a call back to another sleepless night that could've taken place at any point in her life, be that recent past or decades ago past, current relationship's past struggles, ancient relationship ponderings.. you know what I mean? She's not doing anything out of what we've learn to expect from her throughout her career but more specifically when it comes to her latest studio album, which literally, as the well established and expressively stated core concept foretells, is an exploration of a lifetime of insomnia inducing ruminations.

[That being said, at the beginning of the year she did spend quite a lot of time flying back and from NYC's Electric Lady Studios (but I actually think she was most likely working on the rerecording of Speak Now and 1989) so there's that on the table.]

But at the end of the day these are people we don't know personally, and unless Joe decides to write a memoir (highly improbable), write another few songs but on his own and make them public, or write/direct a piece in the audiovisual department that specifically addresses the end of a long and very scrutinized relationship, idk something of the like, we might never know his side of the story. Taylor has this very public outlet and a huge platform whereas Joe doesn't beyond his sporadic Instagram photo dumps every once in a while.

Anyway, I don't think her puting an already published song now out on Spotify is a dig. She probably knew this assumption was inevitable and by now super predictive, cause this type of speculation has happened with literally every single one of her songs. She simply decided not to shield away from the scrutiny that was to come regardless and not let the public frenzy censor her anymore. People were gonna think the worst either way, make up theories and demonize her and the intentions they imagine she had for putting out a song about her own life.

I also think she learned from the experience of the re-releases that now she doesn't have to limit her self expression to appease absolutely anyone other than herself. She doesn't have to keep the men in suits with the big pockets happy to get where she wants to go. The rerecordings are a passion project of hers, where the fans' impressions and opinions haven't weighed too much in the making of. Yet, the relentless encouragement she's received from said fans, along with the praise from the media as an after the fact result (which could have never been taken for granted since none of them were counting on it getting any sustancial pay off, keeping in mind an enterprise like that hadn't had that much commercial success in previous attempts by several other artists... which is exactly why she was doing it more for herself and her own personal moral and legal gain) have helped in getting her out of her head about releasing discarded projects. You know, stuff that for some reason or another had to be cut from the final more polished official version of the end product. And it reassured her in the fact that, in the position she's in, at least today, whatever she releases will most likely not bomb commercially. Also, as an added bonus, not only does she get to get things off her chest and speak her truth, but revel in the knowledge that it feeds both the media and her own fanbase with content she knows it's desperately being sought after and craved for, not out of necessity but out of greed for anything resembling an inside look into her up till very recently pretty much kept under wraps and extremely undisclosed private life. Yes, even if it's calculated, cause it's a taste of the type of flaunting and overexposing she was known for during the 1989 era, where everyone and everything clung to her for clout.

What was my point? Something along the lines of be thankful for the dashboard food she's providing us with, but also be nice??? Be more aware of the bigger picture and the inner workings behind the decision of putting out a previously shelved song??? And be empathetic??? It's not that hard??

And, sidenote: in case it was so -that she's still harboring some type of feelings towards Joe (anger, resentment, sadness, longing, etc)-, she's completely entitled to feel any which way she might deem appropriate in regards to her own life, her own relationships and situations, and act and react upon them accordingly. We, however, are NOT entitled to any answer whatsoever. All tidbits, drops of tea and crumbs of scones are hers to disclose if so she chooses and at will, not ours to demand.

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christiansorrell · 5 months

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Play-By-Blog #8: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our map: The Isle

[You can use the link's above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle. On the map, you are currently at 1.]

Now, back to the adventure!

Like you thought earlier, you aren't above grave robbing and while most of these former monks probably don't have much to speak of in terms of buried treasure, it's worth giving one a look.

You search around for a well-shaped rock and spend the next hour or so digging in the area of the freshest of the graves. Your stomach is growling. The piece of cheese in your pocket is calling to you, but you know it's too small to make much of a difference either way. You'll need to get a fire going and roast up the dead monk's fish tonight. Thinking about your future dinner helps motivate you through the rest of the dig.

You brush the last bits of dirt away corpse (do you call it that if it's just a skeleton?) and try to make sense of the remains. The person was small, a woman you'd guess but you aren't well versed enough to know for sure. Bits of cracked, rotting leather and whispy clothes still hang to the body. You can see the hempen straps of a backpack or satchel as well. It looks like she was dumped in here with belongings and all.

To the side, there's a knife - not one you'd travel with or use for hunting, more like one you'd use to cut your meal at supper. Flecks of dried blood on the rusting blade.

You roll the bones over to one side of the hole and the backpack's top pouch falls open. Inside, you discover a surprising number of items: "A poor short sword, 20 arrows, 50' of silk rope, a grappling hook, 50 hacksilver in mixed coinage, a set of ruby earrings (worth ~500 hs), and a charm of yew wood." The charm is in immaculate condition, as if it was made and cleaned just days ago.

Odd, you think, to find someone buried with so much on them, especially in a monastery - even moreso if this was a woman. The monastery, you know, is all men without a nunnery to speak of, now or ever. The rope and grappling hook stick out in your mind as well, equipment you would have brought if you'd prepared better for your incursion to the isle.

Who was this woman?

In time, you pack your items into the worn, dirty backpack alongside those from the grave and toss the charm into your pocket, alongside the lead figurines. You use the rock to place the dirt back over the top of the grave, being sure not to disturb the nearby cairn. It doesn't look as it once did, but a passerby would need to approach closely before they'd notice the disturbed soil. It will have to do.

You turn back to the rest of the isle, the sea roaring gently at your back.

[The character sheet is updated now to reflect all of the newly acquired items. In order to spend gold (in this case, hacksilver) to gain XP, we'll need to return to the mainland or find a way to live openly and comfortably within the monastery. Cioran will not be back for 29 days.]

[We've got a few bits of loot, some additional equipment and even a few intriguing special items now. I'm excited to see where Medon goes from here. Thanks for reading! - Christian]

#meatcastle pbb #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpgs #rpg #luke gearing #the isle #play by blog #play by post #choose your own adventure #polls

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pinkiepiebones · 2 years

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Sorry to be annoying but 👉👈 rain and aether being silly creatures together while copia experiences ghoul shenaningans (aether and rain are my favs and i love your interpetations of them so much 🥺)?

I just made a tiny animal noise unfitting an ancient old person such as me THANK YOU SO MUCH

In the days after a tour, the band ghouls disperse to revitalise their physical forms by connecting to their elemental tethers. It is not that touring and performing in concerts is in any way debilitating to the ghouls, but there was an intrinsic need in each one to drift away and find their element. The fire ghoul heads into the woods to make a nest, which it then curls up in and sets on fire. The air ghouls fly past the tallest spires of the church to dance in the clouds. The earth ghoul wanders into the garden and digs a deep, temporary grave for itself. The water ghouls sink to the bottom of the lake. The aether ghoul follows the celestial pull of the cosmos and flops down on it's stomach wherever it feels the stars the strongest.

Of course, there are always variations.

Copia, the current Papa, walked the halls of the church- HIS church- with his head high. He had bathed the night before in fresh virgin blood and washed his hair with that nice rosemary shampoo he liked, slept well and naked in his large bed with his dearest ghoul, and woke with the mind to do some good ol' prideful strutting. And strut he did, for a while, until he felt the twinge of age in his hips and stopped, leaning on his cane.

As he leaned, he heard splashing.

Copia frowned and followed the mysterious sound. It wasn't the blood-letting Sisters, they only worked Thursdays. And they did their work in the basement; this was the ground floor. Copia continued to frown and followed the sound.

He opened the door to the room that used to house Papa Emeritus the Second's indoor pool. Legend said that the pool had dried up the moment the horrible old man died. Legends are often wrong, as was the case here- the pool was full of water, geodes, crystals, and gems, and two ghouls were splashing about, but not only that. The ghouls would scurry up the walls to the ceiling, and from there drop into the pool, causing water to splash and slosh across the imported tiles, and they would sink, then open their wings and fly-swim to the surface, then repeat the process.

Copia carefully walked across the wet floor and tapped his cane on the edge of the pool. The ghouls looked up from the bottom, looking like a couple of feathery, drowned gargoyles.

/PAPA/ they both said- well, not so much 'said' as 'projected their telepathic speech directly into the mind of the human above them,' but 'said' is easier to type- and they scrambled out of the pool and stood before the upset Papa.

"What is going on in here," Papa growled, sounding less like he was the head of a Satanic Church speaking to two denizens of Hell and more like a father with weekend custody who was regretting letting his kids make their own dinner.

/WE ARE REFRESHING/ the bulky ghoul with the prong horns and star-shaped tail tip -Aether- said. The smaller ghoul with the long, spiral horns and fish-tail-shaped tail tip- a water ghoul called Rain by some- nodded. They both rustled their wet wings against their backs, sharing something between themselves, not broadcasting to the Papa.

"What is so funny?" the human demanded, rapping his cane on the floor again. The Aether ghoul spread it's talons.

/WE WERE DISCUSSING HOW BEST TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU, PAPA/

/YOU SOUND ANGRY WITH US, BUT YOU ARE A BENEVOLENT PAPA, AND YOU LISTEN TO YOUR GHOULS/ Rain added.

Aether continued, /WE THOUGHT THAT COMBINING ELEMENTAL RECHARGING CONCEPTS, SUCH AS MY YEARNING FOR THE MAGICAL PROPERTIES OF EARTH- LIKE THE GEMS- AND A WATER GHOUL'S NEED TO BE SUBMERGED WOULD, WELL.../

Papa raised a thick eyebrow. "Did... Did you just trail off? Inside my head?"

Rain and Aether looked down, solid black eyes fixed on their hooves.

Papa sighed. "Look, I really don't- I only understand so much about ghouls," he said gently, looking at the assortment of minerals and gems at the bottom of the pool, "but if your shenanigans, eh, if you are getting something out of doing this bullshit, I guess I can't be too upset."

The ghouls rustled their wet wings again and Papa once again tapped his cane for their attention.

"But you are ordered to dry every tile in this room and return the crystals where they belong when you are finished being splashy ghouls, capisce?"

The ghouls nodded and scurried up the walls.

Copia shook his head and left the pool room.

At least they weren't setting fires in the bathrooms.

~end~

#ghost bc #the band ghost #spooky ideas #microfics #papa emeritus iv #nameless ghouls #the nameless ghouls

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urlsaremeaningless · 1 year

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starters from stuff i wrote in my rp threads (part 3)

go take a breather. Punch a pillow. Get through the day. We'll figure it all out together later

I can deal with the internal struggles and the spinning and everything after I handle the current situation

I don’t know about you, but I always find pizza and movie nights are more fun in pajamas.

Well. I'm royally fucked if this falls through.

I’m sort of very freaked out by this whole thing but not for any of the reasons I thought I would be

I know it’s a bit selfish of me to ask, but yes, that’s exactly what I mean.

My pets are partial to skinny young [wo]men. I think they like the sound your bones make

Someone as cute as you needs, at least like, two people telling you so every day.

I'm sort of a dumpster fire of body parts, barely contained by green fabric

Speak now or forever hold your peace with Sleeping Beauty

that's the fight or flight response. It happens when your body thinks it's in a life-or-death situation.

I want to be there for you the way you are for me

you hit the books, and I try to find something about body swapping online that's not a movie review of Freaky Friday.

Now, can you stop babying me?

You never know, there are some crazy dedicated people out there-And some crazy crazies.

Alright, tell me, what is the worst possible outcome if that does happen?

You promised me stars and a lot of your charming voice. So, charm me

I'm surprised. I totally thought you were setting up a very elaborate way of getting me to ask you out instead of just being direct about it

Your eyes aren't just black, they're ink. Ink tells stories, Ink carries centuries of life, and your eyes carry the stars in them

Black is the color of volcanos; of basalt and obsidian. An earth-shattering, world-changing event. Black is also the quiet of the night, of silence, an absence of light. Two sides of a similar coin, it's the perfect color to describe you.

Every color of you is well-defined, and each color is a part of you

We aren’t ten anymore, and I want nothing to do with you

You know that broken hearts can be mended, right? Sewn back together, and made stronger than before. Hearts only get stronger by breaking them.

the journey to break one's heart is worth it, if you ask me

Alright, [name], what is this 'big news' you couldn't stop texting me about all day?

i’d cut my heart out and place it in your hands if it would prove my devotion to you

I’ll wipe the blood off your skin. I'll clean the dirt off your hands from every grave you dig. I don’t care if you’re a monster.

Little freak always manages to make the worst decisions right on our busiest days

I promise, [s]he doesn't bite. Usually.

if it’s with someone as beautiful as you, I don’t think I’d mind being stolen away.

I’m just plain crazy, aren’t I?

#sentence starters meme #sentence starters #rp meme #rp #ask rp meme #rp sentence meme

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articskele · 8 months

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SPEAKING of playlist analysis! Here is my Meta Knight playlist, my favoritest playlist, my pride and joy-

Plus all of the explanations and meanings and stuff under the cut, in case you wanna go in blind first ouo!!

This Will Be The Day: This is Meta Knight joining the GSA and meeting Jecra and Garlude and stuff! He's young and reckless and doesn't yet realize just how serious and dire the war is- So this song is a pure representation of Meta’s current outlook! This is an adventure, a challenge, a revolution, an epic anime fight scene just waiting to happen! And the mention of fairytales and legends refers to Arthur and the knights (Falspar, Dragato, and Nonsurat) and how Meta idolizes them!

Eleanor Rigby (feat. Dream Jumpscare): OHOHOHOHO THIS ONE- And here the bright outlook is shattered as the reality of war sets in!! This one has the most animatic ideas bouncing around- Basically Jecra’s been missing for weeks but he comes back possessed, ambushing a GSA camp in the middle of the night and Meta’s forced to kill him-

AAAAAUGHH THESE LINES THIS IS JECRA AND META KNIGHT IT’S LITERALLY THEM- THE GSA NEVER HELD A FUNERAL FOR JECRA BC HE WAS POSSESSED AND THERE WAS THIS UNSPOKEN WARINESS ABOUT IT- SO META HAD TO DIG HIS GRAVE AND OUGHHHHH AGONIES

And that part at the end where the music slowly builds up is Meta alone on a rocky ledge (the whole thing takes place in like a mesa desert) looking through a journal with photos of him and Jecra- Tears fall onto the pages and it just cuts to him with his mask off just crying as the sun rises over the horizon-

Experience: The fall of the GSA. It becomes more and more obvious that this is a fight they just can’t win. Meta’s forced to watch as ships crash and troops are obliterated around him. Just utter destruction as the few survivors left are scattered across the galaxy. It’s over… What do we do now?

Hush: The start of Meta’s crew, and maybe also his plans to take over Dreamland? Super intimidating, almost secret society vibes as the group grows and they begin construction of the Halberd. This one reminds me of Smash Bros Meta Knight’s almost regal aesthetic with the frilled cape and the detailed armor- I imagine the ending is the crew taking in a young Sailor Dee, like they’re trying to be comforting but it just comes off as menacing lol-

Settle It With a Swordfight: Tonal whiplash time! The other side of Meta's crew and a representation of Revenge of Meta Knight!! Note the more energetic electronic vibe and the guitar, as a callback to the first song and representing Meta’s readiness for a challenge!

Take Off: Meta learning to Chill Out after Revenge of MK, just being with his crew bc the Knightmares are a FAMILY and they LIVE ON THE HALBERD together and they do KARAOKE ON FRIDAYS

Awoken: META KNIGHT IN PLANET ROBOBOT- Both the effects of getting cyborg-ified and all of the guilt and angst involved, and breaking out of it through sheer willpower and Kirby's help! It's very electronic but there's no guitar, like trying to emulate Meta Knight's power but it's noticeably forced and artificial

Pain: OK I KNOW THIS IS LIKE. THE EDGY SONG EVER. But the way I saw it, it represents Meta Knight's will to fight and struggle and improve and keep going and live! There's the full on heavy guitar this time, just the very essence of those burning feelings!! I imagine the "take my hand" parts are him in the New World saving a Waddle Dee from an abandoned building full of beasts

Sword of the Surviving Guardian: Ok this theme was just too much of a bop not to include- But it also shows just how far Meta Knight’s come! As a warrior, as a friend, as a legend. This is a testament to his growth and a toast to his future!

Legends Never Die: OK I ALWAYS IMAGINE THIS SONG IN 3 PARTS FOR EACH CHORUS AND EACH GENERATION; Arthur and his knights (plus Galacta Knight), Meta Knight, and Kirby with the Ultra Sword- OUGHHH it’s so cool and gives me chills every time- Legacies written in the stars and the immortal call of heroism, to protect and persevere and stand up for what’s right

AND THAT'S IT :D The autism was STRONG when I made this as you can probably tell lmao- But for real, I'm extremely proud of this! It tells Meta Knight's story through the music, every song plays a role, I even took the instruments into account, it's great ouo!!

#also yes i know there's a dsmp animatic and a fansong in there- i made this playlist a long while ago akdhfksldf #kirby #meta knight #character playlist #my nonsense #losing it over songs tag <3

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adultswim2021 · 2 months

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The Venture Bros. #44: "Perchance to Dean" | November 2, 2009 - 12:00AM | S04E03

This episode sorta drove home how much better this season is. I went into this one thinking of it as a non-highlight; sort of a middling episode of the season. Jackson Publick, the writer of the episode, says of it: “I don’t think this is anybody’s favorite”. That’s an accurate statement, probably. Hell, by some token it’s inessential; I don’t think any of the other big lore-heavy episodes of the show reference this one in any significant way. But here’s the thing: this is still a very good episode that has GREAT moments.

This one starts with a flashback, where Brock is new to the Venture compound, wearing a baja. He doesn’t speak, so Patrick Warburton doesn’t get a cool hundo for this one. The clone slugs are all babies at this point in the chronology, and Doc just spotted a deformed Dean. He flushes the dud, who, we soon find out, somehow survives and has become a full-grown young man in current-day time.

Dud Dean has been digging up dead Deans and making a nasty skin suit out of them, so he can become the real deal. This dude is all messed up. He also hallucinates a ghostly Doc Venture who tells him to be bad and murder the real Dean on account of him running out of shallow-grave Dean clones to harvest.

Meanwhile, the rift between Dean and Hank is getting worse; Doc is trying jump-start Dean’s future of super science by introducing him to the ultimate super-science muse: progressive rock. Dean takes to it and feels inspired, and immediately sets to work on coming up with a cure to reverse baldness, as he seems to be destined to lose his hair like his father.

Hank, meanwhile, is grounded for defiantly sass-pissing on his father’s bathroom floor. He's being forced to do chores while he nurses his case of sour grapes. Dermott, his hoodlum friend (strongly implied to be Brock’s illegitimate son in season three), sneaks into the compound, calling their security a “joke”. It just so happens that Doc Venture and Sgt. Hatred have set to work on beefing up their security system by placing combustible replicas of Rusty everywhere.

A little bit of sitcom-style mistaken identity with a Dean corpse (being dug up and stolen by the mutant Dean clone) leads Hank to believe that he killed his own brother while joyriding in his dad’s car. Dean thinks his science experiment somehow grew his mutant, who is now chasing him around the compound. Local police are descending on the compound after some complaints. Then, spoiler alert, mutant dean explodes while hallucinating a moment with one of the Rusty land-mines. It’s pretty wonderful and cinematic, and has a great abrupt ending.

Reggie Watts is in this one as a package delivery driver for an unspecified driver. He does a great job, and I forgot that was him until I was reminded that it was in the commentary track for the episode. Hank racistly assumes he has the shining (like Scatman Crothers in Stanley Kubrick’s motion picture of Steven King’s The Shining), and in a pretty funny reversal we find out he actually might. He calls the local sheriff sensing that something bad is going to happen there.

It sounds like in the writing process that the two main goals of this episode was to make use of a huge cache of prog rock jokes Jackson and Doc had been riffing on. Even though it’s still a fairly significant part of the episode, it was still reduced more than they thought it would be. This was also based on the idea of how much it must suck to live near the Venture compound, and have neighbors/civilians get involved.

The deformed clone plot-line is probably not terribly popular with fans. It IS fairly hard to believe that a clone slug could, as a baby, survive in the walls or whatever into adulthood. If The Venture Bros. has anything close to having a "Principal and the Pauper" episode, it’s probably this; in that the events of it don’t really get referred to much, if at all. Deformed Dean's attic hideout does become Goth Dean's new bedroom in later seasons, but I'd say that's less about poetic rhyming and more like an Easter egg. I say this one's still better than a lot of season three episodes, and there’s a lot of fun to be had if you want it. Hey, guys? Who doesn’t like to have some fun? :)

MAIL BAG:

Hey man, season 3 of Jellystone, a cartoon on Max with Hanna-Barbera characters, came out last week and ep 14 features Space Ghost voiced by George Lowe and Brak voiced by Andy Merrill. Zorak and Moltar are featured too, but new voices. It’s your duty to tell the world and thank you for your service!

You know something? These clips popped up on YouTube and--I guess you could pretentiously call this "the YouTube effect" if you want--I assumed that they were old and I just never saw them until now.

I liked the clips I saw just fine, and I respect and support the Jellystone show without ever actually on-purpose watching it. I guess I don't mind them recasting Zorak and Moltar in this context, but I'd be disappointed if they tried to revive Coast to Coast with the new actors. Space Ghost Coast to Coast should just stay dead, at least in an audio/visual form. That is my take and it is precious and a gift to the entire world.

#the venture bros.#adult swim #adultswim2021

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bestfrozenskittles · 1 year

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Mission Complete: Intermission

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Ghost kept his eyes on me, whether it was to make sure I didn’t try anything or just spacing out I didn’t know. My civilian clothes were ice cold from the river we swam in earlier. Alejandro had turned the heater on to keep me warm, but it didn’t really help. We stopped behind a building and they got out “Alright F.N here’s what we’re going to have you do” Soap said as he opened my car door with the other two behind him.

“We can’t keep you safe out here so you’ll be staying in here, stay low and stay quiet, there’s someone coming to pick us up his name is Rodolfo” Ghost spoke as he reloaded his weapons and fixed any tiny mistake on his vest. “He’ll pick you up first from here and bring you with him to get us once we have Hassan, do not go with anyone else, ask him what his name is before getting out of the car” Alejandro finished.

I nodded and moved to sit on the floor of the car, Soap offered me a smile “He’ll come for me right?” I asked, I had to stay with them no matter what. They nodded “Definitely” Alejandro, I nodded and got comfortable “We’ll see you soon hermanita, stay low and stay safe” He patted my knee and moved away from the door.

Soap smiled at me and nodded “See you soon F.N” with that he shut the door and they locked the car. I stayed quiet for a few minutes before quickly digging in my pocket where I had shoved the paper in earlier. The mushy ruined papers covered my hands “That’s one way” I mumbled and pulled apart any of the bigger pieces even though the writing was not legible at all due to the water.

I rubbed the mushy paper on the seat and looked around the front seats for anything they might’ve left behind, but of course they had taken everything valuable. The only thing I found was a radio that was built into what usually would be a normal car radio. I turned it on, people speaking spanish blasted loudly, I panicked and quickly turned it down.

I sat quietly for a few minutes to see if anyone would come by. When no one came I leaned over the armrest and began changing the stations, soon I was on the private station Shepherd had set up for me. “Crow to Gold Eagle Actual” I whispered into the radio, I waited for a bit before Shepherd began speaking.

“Crow, this is Actual, what’s your update” He said, I pursed my lips and pressed the button “Alejandro, Soap, and Ghost are currently rushing in for Hassan with help of Graves from the sky, they don’t have a reason to suspect you general, so far I mean” I responded.

“Alright, keep up the good work, and Crow?” I hummed “Yes sir?” I asked “Stay alive, Actual out” With that I put the radio down and turned it off. I looked down at my damp clothes and sighed. Graves’s air flying overhead was faint, I peaked out of the window and watched the men rush in after Graves’s shadows shot down any hostiles.

“As soon as this is over I have to head back to America and get my money” I spoke out loud to myself while I closed my eyes and laid back onto the truck floor. I could get used to barely having to do anything. The sound of a car driving close to the truck I was in made me sit up quickly.

“Shit” I cursed and dug around in the pockets behind the front seats, the only thing I found was a wooden pencil. “Fuck” I mumbled and curled up against the car door that was on the side of the car that drove up. The person stopped in front of the door and waited for a few minutes, probably trying to look into the blacked out windows.

They softly knocked on the door twice. “F.N? Are you in there? I’m here to pick you up, we have to hurry” A man spoke, I frowned and got up. From his personal files I could tell this was Rodolfo, Alejandro’s second in command. I unlocked the door “Rodolfo?” I asked, he nodded.

“Let’s go” He helped me out and we got into the jeep he was driving. “We have to meet the others up ahead and get out of here fast” He explained as he drove, Rodolfo looked over at me “Are you alright? No one tried to get in right?” I nodded. “I’m fine, just a little scared about all of this” I mumbled.

He nodded with a strained smile on his face “I know, It’s scary, but you don’t have to worry about anything, you’re under our protection F.N” I couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment before nodding “Yeah…” I looked away. The rest of the ride was quiet as we made it to the pick up spot.

They had Hassan in cuffs as they shoved him into the car. “Good to see you hermano” Alejandro greeted Rodolfo “Likewise brother” Rodolfo smiled at him, “And it’s good to see you’re safe hermanita” I nodded and looked over at Hassan who stared at me.

Soap got into the trunk of the jeep and we drove off. “How ruthless do you have to be to bring a young girl into this” Hassan spat, I frowned. “You’re men kidnapped her” Ghost glared at him “Or do you not remember that part” Soap added. Shit.

Hassan shook his head slowly “Not my men, I’ve never seen her in my life, I told the cartel’s men to not get civilians into this” Soap scoffed “That’s rich” He chuckled “Looks like they didn’t listen to you” Alejandro glared at him and put a sack over his head.

“F.N, I found water for you” Soap called from the very back of the jeep. I turned my head and frowned in confusion “Huh” I let out before Ghost grabbed the more than beat up bottle and passed it to me. “It was in the buildin and hasn’t been opened'' Ghost added as I took it.

I looked at the bottle “Thank you, you didn't have to” I mumbled and opened it. “How sweet, a little gift before you get the young girl killed” Hassan snickered, Alejandro rolled his eyes “Shut up” he groaned and elbowed him. I didn’t realize how dehydrated I was until I drank some.

We drove up a road and into a very small town, they spoke to Graves who was still watching us from above. Suddenly a man with a cart began pulling his cart into the middle of the road. Rodolfo yelled at him to get out of our way and had a small argument with the man before Alejandro told him to just go around him.

Rodolfo suddenly drove through the man's car and down the street. Before we could get too far another car sped towards us and crashed into my door. The car flipped and I bashed my head against the dashboard, everything went black.

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When I woke up I was on Ghost’s back before being lifted into a helicopter. The sun was so bright and I couldn’t keep my eyes open for too long. “Close your eyes you’re safe” Ghost voice made my ears ring, my head was leaning on someone’s shoulder and an arm was across my front to stop me from falling forward.

I leaned my head back to see who it was and saw Alejandro turn and smile at me. “The light will hurt your eyes, keep them close” I listened and closed them “What’s your name” I mumbled quietly to him, he chuckled and said something to Soap “Alejandro, that’s Soap, Rodolfo and Ghost” he pointed at them when I opened my eyes again.

“Who names themselves Soap” I whispered to him, I heard him snickering at Soap before I fell back asleep against his shoulder. When I woke up again I was in a truck, it was night time and it was parked in the middle of nowhere. I sat up quickly and my head started pounding. I looked out of the front window and saw the men I had been traveling with talking to Hassan.

I caught Graves' eyes and he gave me a subtle sign to get out of the truck. I frowned before opening the door and stepping out, Ghost stood beside me as the other three argued with Hassan. “Alright!” Shepherd called out to stop them “What about the hostage, where is she?” Graves sighed “Right here, just woke up” He looked over at me.

“She’s in perfect health, doesn’t have any information unfortunately” Soap explains. “I’ve never seen the girl in my life, I’m not even sure where she came from” Hassan suddenly spoke, I frowned and glanced over at Graves, he sucked his teeth before sighing.

“The cartel men kidnapped her thinking she was threat against you, a little innocent girl who couldn’t protect herself, she’s in this mess because of you” He huffed, Soap nodded “Civilians like her are goin to get hurt because of you” He growled.

I glared a little at Graves before they ended their conversation with Shepherd and Laswell and put the sack over Hassan’s head. “F.N” Alejandro called out “You haven’t been able to contact your parents right?” I shook my head “No” I sighed. “Here, use my phone to call them” he pulled out his phone and handed it to me.

I looked at it and nodded before taking it. I walked a little bit farther away and pressed the phone up to my ear. They turned and started talking about something else while I spoke nonsense for a little while before ‘hanging up’ and walking back to the.

“They said thank you” They nodded “We’ll get you home soon, for now we still have some things we have to take care of” Alejandro opened the door for me. “Let’s get going”

#modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 x reader #mw2 #x reader #x female reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #soap #alejandro #rodolfo #graves #shepherd

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