#I feel like this is the other side of the coin compared to the previous post

[pokemon-npcs]

#pokemon npcs #trainer class: hiker #GSC #pokémon gold #Johto #Kanto #I feel like this is the other side of the coin compared to the previous post

[zyonsay]

Wildfire, Chapter Two MV1

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: You almost scored a win, but Max wouldn't let that happen. The McLaren boys want to take your mind off of things!

Warnings: Swearing, Max is a bit of an asshole,Reader has anger issues, Slight Violence, Alcohol, Ki ki ki rah sweat sweat

Now playing: 'Monaco' by Bad Bunny

AN: This was a STRAIN! School is beating my ass recently and it's really difficult for me to get anything done BUT i really want to write this fic!

(Here is the previous chapter)

(Here is the next chapter)

The race season was in full swing, and you’d been doing well. Max had, as per usual, always taken the victory, but most of the time you were on the podium next to him. You were a great new asset to Red bull, and many of the fans seemed to like you. You started discovering more and more memes about you on Instagram and Twitter that would make you chuckle. (Or X? Man idk)

People saw you as a two-sided coin, since your charismatic, silly moments were accompanied by boiling, blood red rage when something messes up the race. Numerous fans compared you to Max when he first entered F1, calling you a “Smaller version of Mad Max.”

You guys’ interactions felt like witnessing two proud stags smash their antlers against each other. No full-on fights have ensued yet, but the tense feeling between you two can be felt by everyone from miles away. It was like the calm before a storm, electric energy surging through the air, waiting to strike when things get any more heated.

Your sassy, provocative nature could bring his blood to a boil easily, often causing him to glare at you from far away or leave some snarky remarks while passing by. This dynamic wasn’t optimal for Redbull, having two drivers who clash off the grid might also clash on the grid. As long as the situation wouldn’t get worse, they’d let you two entertain the fans bit more, but Christian kept a close eye on both you and Max.

Usually your bickering was harmless,

But today you could’ve strangled him right then and there in the paddock after the race. Luckily Horner got a hold of you and dragged you away, you felt like an angry dog being put on a chain outside the house by its owner.

What happened a few minutes before angered you deeply. Max profoundly refused to let you pass him, even if you had to brake to not crash into the rear end of his car. You could’ve had the first place if it weren’t for him blocking your way. Saying you were enraged was a pathetic understatement. You were steaming with rage and wanted to smash his head against a wall.

You, Lando and Oscar were strolling towards an Ice cream truck that Oscar had found on google maps. The race weekend was over but many of the drivers decided to stay a bit longer in the beautiful city. Tough it was extremely hot, which was the reason why Oscar and Lando wanted to go for Ice cream, what they didn’t tell you tough is that they wanted to distract you from your conflict with Max.

After paying for your Ice cream, you three made your way to a bench, sitting down and enjoying your refreshments. You chose pistachio ice cream, savoring the sweet, nutty taste. “Have y’all heard about the party tonight?” Lando glanced at the buildings nearby, enjoying the fancy exterior, thinking about snapping a pic for his .jpg account. “I mean, we all know that there will be one, but I didn’t catch any specifics.” Lando now looked at you and Oscar. “Danny told me about it, it’s in the grand Casino at eleven O’ Clock. I really want to go, but I wanted to drag you both with me. Are y’all coming?” He mustered up his best puppy eyes and began pouting. A hearty laugh escaped you, almost causing you to drop your ice cream. “Sure dude! I can’t wait to have some fun.” Oscar grinned, agreeing with what you said. You guys spent some more time shopping and checking out some must-see sights of the city. Lando bought Oscar a little Koala plushie with sunglasses calling it "Oscahs Doppelgänger.” You really liked hanging out with the two McLaren boys, spending time with them meant lots of joking and messing around.

“Hurry the fuck up Y/N, its almost eleven!” Landos voice rang over his obnoxious banging on the door. You rolled your eyes and checked your outfit one more time in the mirror before heading out. You were greeted with a friendly smile from Oscar and Lando who looks like he’ll bounce around the walls like a gummy ball. He could’ve well exploded on the spot with excitement. He and Piastri were both a tiny bit older than you, but Lando was still a kid at heart.

Lando, Oscar and you walked through the city, heading straight for the big, fancy Casino. Even from far away you spotted a familiar, smiley face. “Oi! Danny!” You waved at him, gaining his attention. He was smiling broadly as usual, walking up to your little group. “Hey guys! Looks like Lando managed to drag you along, eh?” He was obviously wearing one of his flash banging party shirts, it wouldn’t be Daniel Ricciardo if he wasn’t wearing something obnoxious, right?

The four of you chitchatted for a while, when Oscar asked: “Were you waiting for someone?” Daniel looked down at his wristwatch; it was already five past eleven. “I was actually. Me and Max wanted to meet up at eleven. Don’t know where he is, maybe he already went inside.” He shrugged, glancing you way as he noticed you tensing up at the sound of the Dutchman’s name. You definitely haven’t forgotten the race earlier that day. The guys stayed quiet for a few moments as the chilly night air blew around your legs, contrasting with the warm weather during the day. Lando was the first to break the silence. “Can we finally go in?”

Once you entered the gigantic building, colorful lights and the smell of overly expensive alcohol flooded your senses. A few familiar faces were dancing, drinking, and laughing, but there were also many you didn’t know. Daniel led the group towards the bar, buying you all a round of shots. “Gotta start the night the right way!”, he laughed before downing the burning liquid. The vodka fueled the sparks in your guts and turned them into a fire. You were going to have fun tonight.

Suddenly a loud voice appeared behind you. “Hey Danny!” You froze for a second before turning around and facing the man you’ve been wanting to murder since this morning. “Oi, Max! Thought I’d never see you!” Daniel abandoned the bar stool to pat Max on the back. Oscar, who was sitting next to you, turned in your direction and whispered. “We don’t have to hang around with him. Let’s just leave- “, you interrupted him, “No. Its ok.” You were too busy glaring at Max to notice Oscars worried expression, not that he thought you’d attack Verstappen out of nowhere, but he was concerned that a teasing comment from Max was enough for you to snap. As he later would find out, it was.

Max didn’t pay any attention to you, obviously not feeling as irritated as you were. The casino was warm from the sheer number of people inside, the loud music mixed with laughing and chatting. Daniel was going on about some experience he had the day before while exploring the city. You were halfheartedly listening to your friends rambling while you were observing your friends’ mimics. Your eyes landed on your fellow Redbull driver. He was listening carefully, asking a question every now and then. He then glanced at you quickly, catching you looking at him. Max then quickly looked away again.

After a while, Lando pulled you away from the bar and towards the dance floor. He was definitely drunk by now and was all giggly and happy. “C’monnnn, dance with me!”, Lando slurred.

It must’ve already been a few hours since you arrived at the Casino, but time flew by so fast. Oscar stated that he was getting tired and wanted to go home in the next hour or so, while Lando was as lively as ever and could go the whole night. You agreed with Oscar though, since you were tired and had an appointed Press conference for tomorrow. Daniel and Max wanted to stay a little longer but agreed to accompany you outside to say goodbye. Once outside, a cold shiver ran down your spine. The city was illuminated by bright lights and a howling wind was brushing through its streets. Daniel stopped, facing the rest of the group.

“We definitely gotta go out together more often!” Lando nodded enthusiastically, glancing your way as if inviting you to go out with him more often.

“Yeah, once Y/N doesn’t hold a grudge against me, I saw those glares.” Max laughed, but you couldn’t help but judgingly glance at him. His face was red and his posture a bit wobbly.

“You’re the one complaining about me during Interviews.” The venom in your voice was very apparent, you made no effort to hide your disdain. Max looked hesitant for a second before his expression hardened. Daniel seemed to feel awkward, not exactly knowing how to deal with you two firecrackers. Max focused his eyes on your face, not wincing under your glare. “And you were the one crying around about me winning this morning?”, he laughed again, seeking eye contact with the others as if to justify his words. The McLarens Aussie next to you looked deeply worried, as If he already suspected what happened next.

The blood in your veins began boiling, you could literally feel it. A heavy push from your side caused Max to stumble back. “Don’t fucking go there you dick. You just couldn’t handle me winning, right?” Your fellow Redbull driver was now shaken awake, glaring at you with a bitter look on his face. “Don’t get mad at me because you lost, fucking Dickhead.”

You were SO ready to ruin his stupid face with a good punch.

…but before you could actually get violent a certain Honey badger stepped in. “Lads, calm your tits! I think it’s best if we all go to our hotel rooms now.” Oscar was holding you back, worrying what would happen if he’d let go of the raging man in his arms. The other McLaren boy was standing next to you guys, unsure what to do. Daniel gave Max a heavy pat on the shoulder and gave him a serious look. “Let’s go get some sleep, buddy.” Max’s eyes never left yours, like a hunter stalking its prey.

But you won’t budge under him.

#male reader #gay #f1 x male reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #f1 fic #f1 x reader

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 15

An: Took a bit of a break to work on my school stuff, thanks for your patience and understanding! If you can't tell from this chapter, I really missed Soap. Lots of angst to come ;)

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 3700

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

Soap’s arm brushes against mine as we make our way to an unexpected meeting called by Captain Price. He’s the only stability I have right now. My joints feel weak and unnatural as they carry me through the corridor.

As soon as Ghost landed the helicopter in Ludza, I was ushered off and escorted to a solitary room somewhere deep within the base by a group of men I didn’t recognize. That was yesterday. This morning I’d never been so relieved to see Soap.

He says something along the lines of “It's been dunky's since I last saw ya,” and while I don’t have the slightest idea what he means, I’m just glad it’s him.

His right forearm is wrapped in gauze and looks like it’s supposed to be in a sling. Maybe it was in one for a day or so before he grew irritated from the lack of mobility and tore it off. I don’t know if the new injury is from his previous mission or the attack by the Ultranationalists, but I’m smarter than to ask about it right away.

“So, why did Price call a meeting?” I ask.

“Not sure, but it’s important enough for my whole schedule to change,” There’s something different about his voice.  I’m not sure if he’s annoyed or relieved. Maybe neither. Maybe he’s almost as concerned as I am.

The part of the building we’re in is underground. Most of the base is. It’s an eerie feeling knowing that if something went wrong, we’d be trapped down here. But this base is newer and better equipped than the last one. I get the impression that they use Latvia as their main base because it’s closer to Russia. Closer to the Ultranationalists. But I can only speculate. Maybe this is nothing compared to their other compounds.

I can’t stop thinking about Simon – Ghost – I don’t know what to call him. It’s like the names belong to two different people and I never know which one I’m about to encounter. One is reluctantly vulnerable, damaged, caring, and tender. He yearns for more. While the other… is, something else entirely. Ghost is cold and industrial, the perfect killing machine whose all stoicism and no emotional interference. There’s an indifference present with Ghost: he’s witnessed and partaken in so much violence, so much heartbreaking cruelty that every other human emotion is out of reach. They are two sides of the same coin.

I toss a quarter in my mind and pray it lands on tails. I catch it in one hand and flip it onto my palm. Soap opens the office door as I reveal its face: heads.

Dark eyes peer out from behind that damn skull mask. He stands just beside the entrance while Price leans against a table. The only thing on its surface is a clunky, black laptop.

“Sir,” Soap nods to each of them as I duck my head and follow in behind him. The last time this happened, everything changed forever.

“Sit down, y/n,” I know it’s going to be bad when Price skips the small talk. I feel my blood pressure rising. My neck is warm and my cheeks flush. I sit on the foldable chair directly in front of him. The brim of his hat dips as he looks down at me, still leaning against the table. Soap takes his place at the other side of the door opposite Ghost. Their eyes on me heighten my anxiety. “Take a breath darling, you look about ready to fall over.”

A weak, nervous laugh bubbles from my chest. I try and relax my shoulders but I think we both know this is as good as it’s going to get.

“I’d like to thank you for alerting us to the Ultranationalist’s plan, it greatly improved our reaction time. Probably saved some lives,” Price says, but in my mind drifts to the others that were lost as a consequence. “But for our sake, I need to know everything that prisoner told you.”

So I tell him. I like Price and he’s always been decent toward me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of him. Ghost didn’t plan this thing alone. He’s had a hand in everything I’ve endured and has less of an inclination than Ghost to trust me. I don’t know a lot about the English military, but I know his rank means something. He holds power. If he wanted me to disappear, I would without a trace.

As I talk about the things the prisoner said I hear a few grumbles behind me from Soap. I look predominantly at Price but cast a few glances at Ghost who breaks eye contact every time. His actions are far from reassuring.

“Fucking knew there was a mole,” Soap’s voice is bitter with distaste. Ghost shifts as he casts a warning glare in his direction. My mouth feels dry after talking so much.

“Not now, Sergeant,” Price cautions him. This is the kind of discussion I can’t hear. For all they know I’m the mole.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Y/n there’s one other matter we need to discuss,” his attention turns to me. I feel Ghost’s eyes intensify as he watches my reactions. Did he say anything? My heart skips a beat. The inside of my cheek throbs as I nervously bite down on the flesh. Surely he wouldn’t. Right? But their bond runs much deeper than anything he and I had for that single night. When it comes down to me or Price, Ghost would choose him a thousand times over.

Maybe he did say something. What happens then?

I look from Ghost who refuses to make eye contact to Price who won’t look away. He knows.

“It has to do with information discussed at the safe house,” breathing becomes incredibly difficult. My hands clench into fists. Deny everything. Nothing happened. Nothing.

“Okay,” I sound guilty. I sound treasonous. Ready to be put down by a firing squad.

“Lieutenant Riley said you expressed an interest in viewing our tapes of several Ultranationalist attacks,” Relief washes over me as my shoulders sink into the chair. Ghost didn’t tell him. “Specifically the ones involving your father.”

My eyes lock onto Price. His words spin around in my head and part of me refuses to believe I heard him correctly.

“My father?” Swallowing feels impossible. My throat is sandpaper the whole way down. My head is light and a sudden gust of wind could blow me away like a tumbleweed.

“Affirmative,” he uncrosses his arms to brace his hands along the table. “I have them here,” he tilts his head, motioning to the laptop. I look between him and Ghost who finally makes eye contact with me. He wasn’t lying. There really are videos.

My head starts to shake. “I don’t-“

“It’ll make what I have to say next a lot easier,” Price interrupts. What he has to say next? What’s next? What’s worse than this? How could watching my own flesh and blood commit a heinous crime make whatever he is going to say easier? My stomach turns.

“Okay,” I mumble. My hands are being forced. I don’t want to see whatever footage he has.

“Right then,” He moves away from the table to log onto the computer. Already pulled up, ready to play, is surveillance footage of an Ultranationalist attack. “This was in France. Nine months ago. At a soup kitchen.”

Price clicks play and I watch the scene unfold below. A group of armed men dressed as soldiers enter a packed building with people in line for food and sitting at rows of tables. The camera catches the back of their heads. Sewn to their shoulders is the identifying patch underneath the Russian flag. They line the walls and a staff member starts to approach just as they open fire on the crowd. Two minutes of chaos ensue until every single person is riddled with bullet holes. I feel the bile creep up the back of my throat as I sit there completely stunned at what I’m witnessing. It can’t be real. It can’t be.

As the dust dies down, the line of men turns to exit the building. It’s now the camera narrows in on their faces. Their unmasked faces. Not a single man is trying to hide his identity. No. They’re proud of what they just did. I recognize him immediately, even at a distance and in a uniform completely unfamiliar to me. The man leading the group is undeniably my father.

Devastation snags my jaw like a left hook and I feel my face start to crumple under the pressure. What the fuck. It’s real. It’s too real. The first tear falls and I quickly wipe it away, but I know they saw. I can’t stop my head from shaking. I can’t believe he would do something like that. The same man who raised me. Who I thought was so kind.

“Next one also took place in France. South this time,” Price’s voice remains calm. I feel ashamed. I feel dirty from his actions.

I watch three more videos of similar attacks. In the final one, there’s a closeup of the men involved. It’s the first time I’ve seen my father with a beard, but it’s still him through and through. My own flesh and blood. How could a man do something so horrifying? How could he justify his actions?

My stomach turns and I fight the urge to throw up. Full-body tremors take over my weak frame. I wrap my arms around myself in a small attempt to find comfort. I hate the fact that they see me in such a state. I’ve never felt so vulnerable in front of a group of people before. Let alone a group actively hunting down my family. If I can even call him that.

I wish I was back in that cabin, wrapped in Simon’s arms. He’s known this whole time. He tried to warn me.  If only I knew how bad it was going to get.

“It’s a lot,” Price starts. “Which is why I’m going to let you sleep on my next question.”

I nod, still staring at the floor.

“Will you help us lure him out?” I should’ve seen this coming. That’s what this has all been about. Using me to get to my father, maybe even Makarov. Ghost said so himself. But now they want me directly involved. Why?

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“Think about it,” Price’s answer is short and to the point. He’ll give me time, but his patience is limited.

“Will you kill him?” my voice wavers. It’s a brave question, but I’m not brave enough for Price’s answer.

“That’s up to him,” his voice is resolute. The ambiguity of his answer is anything but reassuring. “That’ll be all for now. We’ll reconvene in the morning. Soap, she’s to stay in her quarters for the rest of the day.”

“Yes sir,” I feel his good arm on my upper back guiding me out of the room before I even realize what’s going on. In the hall, his hand rubs reassuring circles between my shoulder blades. “Do ya want food?”

“No,” I sniffle. I need to get it together before we pass the cafeteria full of men. “Thanks,” I mutter through a deep breath as I wipe my eyes for the last time. I find myself leaning into his touch. There’s a softness to Soap that’s too easy to get attached to.

My eyes are swollen, but at least I’ve stopped crying. Exhaustion seeps into my joints. Just walking feels strenuous.

“Still on babysitting duty, Suds?” a vaguely familiar voice taunts from across the room. A blond man in full gear leans against the entrance to the dining hall. He’s speaking to Soap, but his eyes never leave me. Chills run down my spine.

“Shut up ya fucking latrine queen, I don’t have time for your shite right now,” Soap shifts to my other side, placing some distance between myself and this man. He urges me to walk with a gentle hand but my feet start to slow.

“You know,” suddenly his voice doesn’t sound so vague. It’s the same man from the transportation van. The one who made crude comments toward us. The same one Ghost shut up by pulling rank. “Rumor has it you knew about the ambush.” The man raises his hand to point at me. Guilt swells in my chest.

There are only the three of us in the hall connecting the offices, cafeteria, and sleeping quarters, yet I’m afraid someone else will hear his accusations.

“Friday shouldn’t have gone down like that,” any previous teasing tone is gone. There’s real anger behind his words. “Our men died because of you,” I freeze at his words. The overwhelming feeling in my chest starts to spill over. Death follows me everywhere. He’s right. They died because of me. Others are still in the infirmary. Because of me.

Does he see my father when he looks at me? Is that what they all see? A contorted excuse for a human, twisted to the extent even mirrors don’t recognize?

Overwhelming anxiety and despair push me to the edge. I feel the tears threaten to fall again. I can’t let him see me cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

My feet take off sprinting down the closest hall, toward the sleeping quarters. My heart thunders in my ears, drowning out the sound of Soap calling after me. I don’t care. I need to get away from here. They blame me. They all blame me.

The empty corridor is lined with doors that blur as I run past them. Each leads to a room with a single twin bed. But no one’s here. Downtime isn’t for another while. I don’t know where I’m going. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter I just need to get away. Panic and adrenaline course through my veins. Tears cloud my vision and I can barely see.

When I hit the black object, It initially feels like a wall: hard and unmovable. But then his arms constrict around my torso, trapping me against his chest. I try and push off him which causes his grip to tighten even more. My mind flashes back to that night he held my arm so hard it bruised.

“How did you-”

“Where’s Soap?” Ghost’s unmistakable voice thunders in my ear. He sounds pissed. I blink away the newest tears. My emotions feel scrambled. His fingers press into my flesh. Ghost knows he has me. He doesn’t need to be this rough.

“Simon, you’re hurting me,” my throat is sore as my voice cracks.

His breathing falters and immediately the pressure is lifted. Ghost’s hands clench into fists at his side. I don’t know who he’s angry with anymore. Me, Soap, or himself? Part of me still fears him. Of what he’s capable of. Despite it, I don’t step away. I missed the heat of his chest seeping into my own. I want to feel the tenderness he’s capable of.

He sighs, collecting himself for another moment before speaking again. “Why are you running in the halls by yourself?” Ghost’s voice is significantly softer, but I don’t miss the urgency still present. A large hand brushes down my arm. It’s the only comfort I’ll get for days.

“I left him,” I mumble, refusing to make eye contact.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. The huff of his chest tells me he knows I’m lying. But there’s no time for him to push further. Feet thunder down the hall as the thick Scottish accent echoes off the walls.

“For fucks sake y/n,” Soap is audibly annoyed, but it’s only surface deep. “You can’t just run off.”

“Sorry,” the words tumble from my mouth. I hate this. I hate all the attention. All the expectations. Having to be on my best behaviour. The lack of freedom. All of it.

“What happened,” Ghost inches away from me as he turns his attention to Soap.

“I took care of it,” his thick words jumble together when he’s out of breath, but Ghost is used to it. What does he mean by “took care of it?”

“Is this something I have to tell Price?”

“Nah, shouldn’t be a problem again,” there’s a slyness to his tone. Soap tucks his hands into the side of his vest and it's now that I notice the red swelling at his knuckles. I watch Ghost’s eyes flicker down to the same spot.

“Right then,” he looks between the two of us. “I need to talk to you later,” Soap nods, seemingly already on the same page. Ghost casts one last glance my way before taking off. Conflict brews in the eyes beneath the skull mask. We need to talk. Question is, when? There’s a strange expression furrowed between Soap’s brows as he watches the interaction. One almost of suspicion.

I get an entire room to myself. I feel spoiled by this most basic accommodation. A twin bed, dresser, toilet, and sink. Like a luxurious jail cell. No windows. Not this deep underground. But at least there’s privacy. Tired feet drag their way toward the mattress.

Soap leans against the doorframe, bright blue eyes closely following my figure.

“What happened out there?” his voice is soft as he reaches for the door, slowly pulling it closed behind him. My eyes flicker from his to the swollen knuckles wrapped around the handle. My brain is foggy. His actions are slightly ambiguous. Does he mean today? Or at the safe house? The door silently latches into place as he blocks the only exit. What does he know?

“Out where?” I force myself to maintain eye contact. My hands nervously fist the comforter.

“The safe house,” Soap’s head tilts as he examines my reaction.

People are quick to dismiss Soap because of his openness towards others. He’s kind and doesn’t expect anything in return. There’s no hidden ulterior motive behind his actions. Johnny is simply a good person. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t done the same thing.

But his kindness, his ability to connect with others makes him better at reading people than the rest of the task force. Next to Ghost, Soap is who you have to be so damn careful around. He’s been right there beside Ghost for more interrogations than I can count. But they’re not always bloody and violent. Sometimes they’re soft. Sometimes they’re done by someone you thought you could trust. The right interrogator will caress your cheek and wipe your tears as they coax exactly what they need from your swollen lips. Soap knows exactly how to get information from different types of people. He is dangerous. I can’t let my guard slip around him. He’ll know.

“What do you mean?” I ask, crawling further onto the bed to rest against the wall. I need to stay composed. For a moment I was certain Ghost didn’t tell Price, but I didn’t even consider Soap. They’re closer than anyone else on the task force. Their secrets have to run deep. Chances are he could know already but wants me to confirm it. Or Ghost lied to him and he caught on. What if my story doesn’t match his?

“He’s barely spoken a word since you returned. Something’s up,” Soap steps away from the door, cautiously closing in on the distance between him and the bed. I scan his face just as carefully as he does mine. But I lack the years of experience and training that he has. All I have is my gut. And right now I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s a lie.

“Nothing happened,” I attempt, but it’s apparent my words don’t take when Soap starts to shake his head.

“I don’t wanna do that with ya,” his voice is reserved as he crosses his arms. Nerves start to crawl their way back up my spine. Every part of me feels on edge.

“He was angry I didn’t say anything about the Ultranationalists before the attack,” I mirror him, folding my arms across my chest. It’s true. Just not the whole truth.

I watch as he processes my words. As his eyes narrow and his brows pull closer together. Soap’s sharp jaw angles down as he considers his next words. Something is eating away at him.

“Did he do anything?” I don’t hide the confusion stemming from his quiet words. What would he do? Why is that the first thing that comes to his mind?

“No,” It slips from my mouth in a rush, but I catch myself. “Well, we fought, but that’s it.” The sigh that escapes his chest is heavy and his stance remains closed off. I don’t know if he buys it. “It’s fine. Really. Soap I’m sick of talking about this. I know I fucked up. Every damn thing I do out here is a fuck up. Can we just leave it at that? Please?” I quickly wipe at the stray tear that escapes.

“Don’t talk like that lass,” Soap’s shoulders soften as he uncrosses his arms. His feet risk another step forward, but then he stops. Something about his expression is pained. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach out and comfort me. My mind drifts to how it would feel to have his strong arms wrapped around my frame, how safe it would feel…

Soap reigns himself in. He knows he’s tiptoeing the line of his assigned duties.

“Can I get you anything from the cafeteria?” He retreats into safer territory.

“No,” I sniffle. “Thanks.”

The heavy Steel-toed boots thud along the floor. “I’ll drop off a plate,” Soap says as he closes the door behind him. The loud clank of the lock rattles throughout the room. The fog clouding my thoughts mutes the aching betrayal throughout my body, eventually lulling me to sleep.

My father planned the murder of hundreds of people. Innocent people. Mothers and children. Refugees trying to build a better life for themselves. Vulnerable civilians unable to stand up for themselves. All for what? Political gain? What kind of a sick bastard views mass murder as a tool for power? I can’t believe I’ve been so clueless. Maybe he does deserve to die. Maybe we both do.

I don’t notice the plate of food sitting on the empty dresser the next time the door opens. Something else snags my attention.

My sleepy eyes narrow in on the dark, ominous shadow looming in the corner of my room.

Someone is here.

Pt 16:

#simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost imagine #ghost fanfiction #cod ghost #cod fanfic #cod imagine #soap cod #soap x reader #cod #ghost mwii #mw2 imagine #mw2 fanfic #call of duty mwii #he knows

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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CHAPTER TWO - DREAMS OF FATE, FAREWELL AND NEW BEGINNINGS.

The past two months had been a relentless parade of dreams for Marc Spector, dreams that twisted through the labyrinth of his fractured soul. His thoughts have long been adrift in the sea of uncertainty that had become his life. Nightmares have always haunted him for most of his life, but it recently came to a point where they had intensified to an unsettling degree. Night after night, his subconscious mind became a battleground for the ever-present specter of his past.

The latest of his living nightmares have been his own death at the merciless hands of Arthur Harrow. He should have been used to the sound of a gunshot by now, but apparently it didn’t prepare him enough for when he was at the receiving end. His fractured soul had been unceremoniously cast into the Duat, the realm of judgment for the ancient Egyptian afterlife. He and his alter, Steven Grant, have stood before Taweret’s watchful eye as she weighed their hearts in the scales on their journey to the Field of Reeds.

Steven made a comment back then of how it should have been Anubis, Marc thought. 

To balance their scales and hopefully come back to life, Marc was forced to confront the darkest corners of his past: Randall’s death that spiraled Wendy Spector’s slow descent to madness. The abuse he had suffered during his childhood at the hands of his mother continued to haunt him - the once happy memories of him and his family shattered by his mother’s twisted way of expressing her ‘love’.

But amid the shadows of torment, there was a glimmer of salvation. Steven Grant has finally understood the need for his creation at the dark corners of Marc Spector’s accursed room, having realized that it was Marc’s way of coping with all the combined strong emotions that a small, innocent child wouldn’t have been able to go through. Steven was Marc’s secret joy - the living embodiment of what his younger brother, Randall Spector, could have been had life been kinder.

Through all of their shared history of pain and survival, Marc Spector’s bond with Steven Grant had deepened. They were no longer just two sides of the same coin - they were brothers transcending the boundaries of blood and forever bound in ways that defied explanation. Their connection was no longer a mere confluence of minds; it was a fusion of souls, two halves of a fractured whole. They had weathered death together and returned, their fates irrevocably intertwined.

After rising from the dead and helping to stop Arthur Harrow and Ammit from wreaking havoc in this world, Khonshu fulfilled his end of the bargain to release both him and Steven Grant from their servitude as his avatar - his Moon Knight.

To Marc’s displeasure, however, the nightmares never stopped. Among the myriad dreams that plagued him day after day, one stood out above all others— a dream that seemed more like a forgotten, distant memory.

In this dream, he watched as Steven Grant raised his arms to the heavens. The sky itself yielded to his will, shifting and swirling as if bowing to a higher power. Marc could feel his own life force ebbing away, his connection to Khonshu, the ancient Egyptian god who had granted him his powers, dissipating like grains of sand in a desert storm. Yet, even as he felt himself slipping away, he also felt a divine presence, a heavenly female voice that reached out to him from the depths of his foggy memories.

“It cannot end like this. I will not let you die - any of you” 

Marc then felt soft lips descending upon his, a passionate kiss that carried the divine breath of life as it flowed into his lungs. The kisses he shared with Layla couldn’t even begin to compare with the mysterious woman of his dreams. It rendered him breathless as a warm, euphoric sensation seemingly boiled his blood with pure longing for someone he never even recalled meeting. 

"Arise, Moon Knight. With the power of the moon, I grant you half of my life."

Marc’s eyes fluttered open, abruptly ending his dream as he bolted upright in his bed. His whole body was drenched in cold sweat, his eyes darted wildly around the dimly lit room as he felt his own heart pounding strongly in his chest. He then reached for the bedside lamp and switched it on, allowing a soft, warm light to fill the dimly lit hotel room where he’s currently staying. 

That dream again? Steven asked in Marc’s head, his reflection on the nearby mirror wearing an inquisitive, sleep-deprived look.

“The very same”, Marc shook his head, finding himself chuckling in disbelief. Every night that ended with that shared kiss under the moonlight left him with more questions than answers. 

Why did these dreams haunt him? What do they actually mean? And who even was the enigmatic woman appearing in his dreams for the umpteenth time in a row now?

Marc glanced at the nightstand clock, reading 5:58 AM of today’s time. He could no longer sleep after the unsettling dream he had, so he decided to get ready for the day ahead. He busied himself with the mundane tasks -  taking a long, hot shower, the steam and warmth helping to clear his mind, at least momentarily, of the enigmatic dreams that had plagued him. Brushing his teeth before the bathroom mirror, his eyes narrowed at his own reflection as he caught a glimpse of a crescent moon tattoo inked into his jugular notch. How did I even get this tattoo? Marc questioned in his mind, prompting Steven's reflection to shake his head, having no recollection whatsoever of the tattoo's mysterious origin.

I honestly don't know, mate. Steven sighed. It might be from Khonshu - may be the residue of his magic when he freed us. Marc accepted Steven's theory for the meantime, effectively taking his mind of his own endless questions as he finally dressed in a crisp, charcoal-gray suit, trying to appear composed and confident for what was sure to be an emotionally charged day.

The Motorola flip phone on his bedside table pinged, prompting Marc to open and check his latest message. Layla’s text greeted his eyes, abruptly reminding him of today’s agenda in the first place.

See you in the courtroom today. I’m on my way.

Marc sighed, lamenting how it had all come to this. Their divorce had been a mutual decision, born out of a recognition that their romantic love had faded, wilted by the melancholy of distance and the weight of their shared history. They both have decided to part ways on amicable terms, to seek their own paths and find happiness on their own terms. He would be lying if he said the whole ordeal wasn't painful for him, but he recognizes the necessity to conclude a chapter between him and Layla that had already run its course. 

Two hours later, Marc Spector finally entered the premises of Chicago Family Court. While waiting patiently in the hallway outside his assigned courtroom, he couldn't help but revisit the dreams that had plagued him. He fiddled with his tie, a nervous tic that betrayed his inner turmoil. He wondered if these dreams and nightmares he’s having were mere manifestations of his trauma—the trauma of dying and coming back to life, of shedding the mantle of Moon Knight, the vigilante avatar of Khonshu.

Steven's voice whispered in his mind, a soothing presence amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

Don’t overthink it too much, buddy. Steven suggested, reassuring him that perhaps they were just processing their past in their own unique way.

Marc nodded inwardly, grateful for the reassurance. They were no longer avatars, no longer bound to the whims of Khonshu. They were free, and yet, the mysteries of their shared dreams remained. It left a lingering unease in his soul as he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to them than met the eye.

A yawn escaped him, a reminder of his sleepless night. He took a seat on one of the benches, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. He leaned against the cold courtroom wall and slowly closed his eyes against his better judgment, hoping to find some respite from the weight of his thoughts. Exhaustion washed over him like a tidal wave, and he drifted into an uneasy nap. 

"Morning, Marc" 

His name was called, gently waking him from his restless slumber. He blinked and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Layla El-Faouly stood before him dressed in a white blouse, black pencil skirt and gray flats, her dark eyes weary but kind. In her hands, she held two cups of coffee, the aroma of freshly brewed beans wafting through the air.

"Layla," Marc greeted, his voice raspy from sleep.

“How are you holding up?" she asked softly, her tone tinged with a mix of concern and empathy as she handed him a cup of steaming coffee. 

"As well as can be expected, I suppose”, Marc managed a weary smile. "Thanks for the coffee."

She offered him a small smile, a hint of sadness in her toffee-brown eyes. "You looked like you could use it," she said. "Are you ready for this?"

Marc nodded, his gaze fixed on the steaming cup in his hands. "As ready as I'll ever be."

“We both know it’s for the best”, Layla spoke in a serious tone. “With everything that has happened, this will put everything behind us”

He nodded slowly as he let her last words fly by. They exchanged small talk, avoiding the weightier topics for the moment. Soon after, they both heard their names called by the court clerk.

“Mr and Mrs Spector, please come to the front”

As they entered the courtroom, Marc couldn't help but steal a final glance at Layla. Her beauty had always captivated him—the way her raven-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, the warmth of her eyes, and the grace with which she carried herself. She was a striking reminder of what had drawn them together in the first place.

Finally, their case was called. Marc and Layla sat side by side, their hands barely touching as they listened to the legal formalities. It was a somber affair, with a judge presiding over the dissolution of their marriage. Both of them answered the necessary questions with a solemnity that matched the occasion. They signed the paperwork, their signatures sealing the end of their shared lives and setting one another free.

The judge’s words as he delivered the final ruling in their divorce case brought a semblance of peace in both Marc and Layla’s hearts. There was no sadness, anger or regret of any sort - only happiness in its melancholic yet empathetic form. It was the end of an era, the closing of a chapter in their lives.

With the court proceedings behind them, the two walked out of the courtroom and into the corridor, their steps slightly heavy with a sense of finality. Of all the divorced couples in the family court, only Marc and Layla hold hands with a rueful smile on their faces. Outside the courthouse, the two hailed a taxi to take them both to the airport, albeit in separate flights. The taxi ride was a quiet one, the city passing by in a blur of buildings and people.

They may not have worked out as lovers, but they can surely live with being each other's best friends.

"It's time," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as the closing distance of the airport loomed before them. Marc nodded, his throat tight with unspoken emotions. 

"Yeah," he replied in a hushed tone. "It's time."

A few hours later, the newly divorced couple finally found themselves at the boarding gates. Going their separate ways have never felt so bittersweet.

“Take care of yourself, Layla”, Marc said as he pulled his now ex-wife in for one last hug.

“I was supposed to say that”, Layla chuckled, returning the embrace as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Don’t be a stranger - you and Steven”

Tell her to not skip any meals, Steven piped inside his head sadly. His British alter’s brief infatuation with Layla didn’t really help to dampen his already melancholic mood.

“Steven said you shouldn’t skip your meals”

“Tell him I appreciate the thought”, Layla nodded, smiling serenely as if looking directly at Steven himself. “Goodbye, you two. See you around”

With a final, lingering look, Layla turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of other airport travelers. Marc watched her go, feeling a mixture of sadness and relief. The weight of their marriage had lifted, but it left behind a profound sense of loss and emptiness that he wasn't yet sure how to fill.

Marc still has a few hours left before his own flight, so he decided to pass the time at the nearby airport bar. The departure board above displayed rows of cities, each with its own departure time, a digital countdown matching the frenetic rhythm of the bustling terminal around him.

Nursing a lukewarm coffee and absentmindedly flipping through his passport, he suddenly heard the announcement over the intercom, crackling and distorted but crystal clear in its message.

"Ladies and gentlemen, calling all passengers for flight BA294 to London Heathrow. The boarding gates are now open"

The overhead announcements ceased, and the travelers, like Marc, turned their attention to the departure board. In bold, digital letters, the gate number for his flight to London illuminated.

"Flight 294 to London Heathrow: Gate B13."

See you around, Layla’s voice echoed in Marc’s head once more, prompting him to mildly chuckle to himself as he stood up and went on his way to the boarding gates. He knew it would take a long while for them to meet again. Layla has new responsibilities as Taweret’s new avatar - the Scarlet Scarab as dubbed by the people of Egypt. He, on the other hand, will have to pick up the pieces of anything he recalls as a semblance of his old life. 

London was their home now, and Marc and Steven were eager to return to the familiarity of its streets. This time around, it’s up to them to figure out how the next chapter of their new lives will begin. But one thing is for sure - finding out the true meaning of their collective dreams would be the first step.

END OF CHAPTER TWO.

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#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #mcu moon knight #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc x avatar f!reader #steven x avatar f!reader #jake x avatar f!reader #moon knight x avatar f!reader #moon knight system #philippine mythology #philippines #ancient egypt #egyptian mythology #pre colonial philippines #mayari #khonshu #anubis #layla el faouly

[sparklepoint]

hey i saw stuff about ur asau (hermit!yusuke is perfect and kitteh ann is the fluffiest little baby and i love her) and i just wanted to ask if you have the other arcanas planned? is it a direct one to one swap or is it different?

omg. ty for giving us a chance to introduce

 ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ card shuffle ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

@floodbender’s and mine roleswap au in which the story roles are remixed based on randomly reassigned arcanas + canon backgrounds

it’s kind of a work in progress so this is not q definitive & some arcs are less developed than others, but we do in fact have something planned for everyone :3c let's meet the cast!!

starting with <3 bitter bitch besties <3

○ the fool – akechi

he has pretty much the same backstory as canon, but without Metaverse access; therefore his only outlet has been trying to prove himself academically etc. to show them all

it isn’t really working. even with all the effort, he still gets written off automatically most of the time

there is no arrest/probation/anything out of the ordinary that brings him to staying with Sojiro and going to Shujin, just a last minute arrangement by his previous foster placement 

Akechi POV: you’ve been booted from a family who didn’t want you there for the n-th time in your life and are now moving to stay with some rando who doesn’t want you there either. and everyone at the new school immediately labels you a troublemaker with a problematic background

(of course Shujin is going to make up rumors regardless)

personality-wise, it is as you might expect from a no powers AU Akechi - at the start he’s a bitter, cynical bastard masking behind his Pleasant Boy mode

would have eventually snapped in some self-destructive way if he didn’t meet someone who gets it

rest of the story is spent rehabilitating this man with the power of friendship, mutual understanding, and insane romance. and flufy kity

akechi and makoto: the world is a cruel and unjust place. *minutes later* omg lady ann!!!

i. the magician – ann

flufy kity

backstory inherent to the arcana role

she does not have hang ups about not being human specifically and embraces cathood quite well

instead her issues stem from feelings of comparative inadequacy and not knowing what her role in life and on the team is supposed to be, especially after the PTs get a dedicated navigator

similar to her canon arc, she does mostly handle these feelings by focusing on trying harder & with more purpose rather than growing resentful

when Morgana coined the ‘Lady Ann’ nickname it stuck and now everyone calls her that

still has a widdle crush on Shiho

the only reason Akechi has any side confidants

vii. the chariot – makoto

Makoto handles pressure from Sae far worse in this one

attempted to investigate and expose Kamoshida’s behavior on her own last year and got kicked off the student council for her trouble

grades are suddenly hard to keep up even though she’s putting in the same amount of effort if not more. keeps being left ‘accidentally’ out of the loop about important info. school just kind of making it clear it doesn’t like her anymore

entire social circle crumbled and no support from Sae who at this point is simply mad at her for ‘sabotaging herself for childish reasons’ 

would have eventually snapped in some self-destructive way if she didn’t meet someone who gets it

disillusioned, desperately lonely, and stewing in a lot of suppressed rage

in light of this it’s not surprising that she and Akechi end up bonding pretty much right away in spite of his typically raised hackles

used to be friends with Haru in middle school

vi. the lovers – haru

while Okumura still has a Palace, his behaviour towards Haru is more distant and less outright abusive, and she does not have an engagement hanging over her

instead Kamoshida creeps on her, fixated on adding a demure chaebol princess to his conquests 

Haru’s having trouble rebuffing him as she has issues setting down boundaries with men in general due to her proper upbringing, and is of course scared of his position of authority

in particular, the rooftop garden becomes a hazard for being cornered instead of a sanctuary; 

(fortunately it is also a prime place to be overheard by anyone who's heading up there for definitely not a teen vigilante meeting)

Kamoshida lets out that Haru is the Okumura Foods heiress, which makes her seem like a stuck-up rich princess to the Shujin rumor mill and leaves her ostracized

with regards to Makoto: in Shujin Kamoshida Issues forced them to drift apart, and now, even though both of them want to reignite the middle school friendship, each is reluctant to involve the other in her own respective mess via association

(pictured: childhood friend matching bwacelets)

after that is sorted, they reconnect and begin a prolonged awkward romance dance

(meanwhile the rumor mill is busy debating which one of them is dating Akechi)

iv. the emperor – joker ren akira

legal name, under which he is mildly famous, is Ren Amamiya, actual name he goes by is Akira

for these claiming your chosen identity reasons, his codename is Daybreak :)

his parents are both in the entertainment industry, and the second Palace belongs to his father

Dad Amamiya is a formerly acclaimed, currently washed-up movie director. a nightmare to work with who uses his old connections to run people he doesn’t like out of the industry and ruin their careers

his wife is aware of his transgressions but is too attached to the lifestyle to care 

to Akira’s parents, he is more or less a prop in their public performance as a happy picture-perfect celebrity couple; in his father’s Palace, his cognition is played by an actor

he had long since learned that going against his parents achieves nothing, and has been going through the motions keeping his head down until he meets the team

the meeting is a chance encounter prompted by Emperor-typical  overwhelming fascination with Ann, which in his case is because he’s That Much Of A Cat Person 

rest of his arc is about separating himself from his parents’ legacy as somebody who still wishes to pursue a career in entertainment

ii. the high priestess – morgana

he has Ann’s parents and last name since she doesn’t need them anymore

unlike her, he doesn’t handle their constant absence well and is therefore desperate for the Thieves’ companionship (while being just as tsundere about it in human form as he is in canon)

he kickstarts the Kaneshiro plot despite not being on the student council: since he is a very special smart boy, he can absolutely solve Shujin’s mafia crisis all by himself!

(it is probably rather obvious how well this goes)

his arc is a more mundane version of his canon one about recalibrating the self-worth issues and loneliness until he can be comfortable with himself and his place in the group

his awkward crush here is converted into being an even bigger Ann Stan than the rest of them

still besties with Akira. also perpetual ninth wheel

ix. the hermit – yusuke

Madarame does not have a Palace

without the international recognition from stealing Kitagawa-san’s masterwork he has to subsist on smaller-time forgery and predatory contracts and the like

his main victim is Yusuke’s mom, who lived long enough to start actually raising her son, but her poor health made her the perfect exploitable dependant 

after she succumbs to her illness, Madarame proceeds to take his frustrations over losing the convenient setup out on Yusuke in his typical insidious way

over the subsequent years trapped in an abusive living situation you’re told to be grateful for, the comments about how she would have lived longer and created masterpieces if she didn’t have to take care of you accumulate to create the most depressed teenage boy in the world

as far as Madarame’s concerned, if Yusuke’s too miserable to keep up with his schoolwork, it’s just another instance of him being a drain on everyone in his life. Madarame’s not going to cater to him and pay for his scholarship – he can just stay in and keep house, if that’s all he’s good for

that leaves Yusuke just listlessly haunting the place, convinced that all he can really do with his life is wait to die and go to hell for the sin of being himself: he sees his life with Madarame as perpetual penitence for his mother’s death, his work as almost ritual sacrifices to appease him, and the shack as his purgatory [--beginning navigation]

his Palace is stylistically themed after the Shinto Yomi with more general underworld theming as well; cognitive Madarame is of course the final boss, although he only drops the benevolent underworld guide pretence once thoroughly provoked

the gang finds out about All This after a series of Mementos requests from Madarame’s latest underpaid helper

post change of heart we’re getting Yusuke the fuuuck out of there

Sojiro ends up taking him in, first temporarily and then permanently

neither of us has the vocabulary to concisely explain the respective holes in their heads this Yusuke and this Akechi have about each other

team navigator. please take a moment to imagine yusukespeak navigator lines

iii. the empress – sumire

the Okumura setup is still happening (sorry Haru), but the PTs recognize it as bait and stay away, instead ending up doing a different palace entirely

the Palace Ruler for this arc is the Yoshizawas’ abusive coach (not the one from Sumire’s confidant)

a classic unethical teen sports situation with disproportionate pressure and a concerning disregard of their physical and mental wellbeing as long as they Get Results tm

neither of the sisters is good at standing up for herself, which in Kasumi’s case spirals into continuous self-denial for the sake of The Sport and in Sumire’s exacerbates her feelings of inadequacy

at the moment Kasumi is being pushed to compete despite an injury which would put her out of commission, which is the deadline/reasoning to deal with this ASAP

the palace theme is Colosseum/gladiatorial arena, with the implication of entertainment of the masses at the expense of the athletes’ lives

(pictured gladiator!cogsumi)

xi. justice – ryuji

Ryuji is the one to get slapped with the arrest record courtesy of Shido in this one

the consequences for a 14yo on scholarship and with no support system outside of his mom (except he just feels guilty about creating problems for her) are predictably devastating 

he winds up at Shido’s Palace afterwards by accident while loitering around the Diet building, which is where his awakening happens

he’s spotted entering or exiting the Metaverse, which leads to Shido making him the job offer he cannot refuse

initially framed as “help with secret research” in exchange for erasing his record and bankrolling opportunities for a sports career, but it’s not like there are any easy ways out once the requests starts getting seedier

he’s just the Metaverse assassin/errand boy for the conspiracy, no astroturfed public persona

to an extent Ryuji convinces himself this is for the best since many of his targets do very much have it coming and it’s AN outlet for letting out some steam over the bleak as shit view of society he now has, but ultimately this arrangement and all the murder involved make him utterly miserable, and on a level he understands this is not going to end well for him

gives himself away to the Phantom Thieves early and in the dumbest way possible

for all the above reasons, he’s not at all hard to persuade to switch sides and start double-agenting

did you guess who’s faith no you didn’t

○ faith – hifumi

we just really like hifumi so she’s included

at first her deal is a toned down version of her canon arc, with her mom pushing her towards an idol-like career based off of shogi. then her father actually dies

mom’s grief response is to lean in further into building her career, thinking that this is what her dad would have wanted; Hifumi’s own grief response is to start crumbling under that pressure until “I wish I could just be the person my mother wants to see” is the prevailing sentiment

this is where Maruki’s unethical therapy comes in and actualizes her into the perfect teenage celebrity personality

thirdsem Hifumi is terrified she will never be enough as herself and it takes the team effort to get her to let go of the idol persona, but conveniently there are SO many people with parent issues here to talk to her about it .

bonus: xvii. the star – futaba

Wakaba survives the assassination attempt, but is left unable to continue her scientific work, igniting Futaba’s interest in researching the topic herself

her confidant’s Mementos quest block is still her uncle, who is not as horrifically abusive, but treats them poorly and demands Futaba reimburses him for taking care of them financially

Sojiro is still a pseudo-parental figure in her life, but his role is limited since he cannot insert himself into the situation without permission and Futaba conceals the extent of it from him

she becomes available as a confidant during Yusuke’s arc, which still overlaps with the Medjed crisis

her fixation with cognitive pscience leads to digging into the Phantom Thieves leads to offering to deal with Medjed for them – but only if they prove themselves to her by sorting out a specific request that hit a little close to home. cue Yusuke arc

from then on she’s their tech guy

and that's everyone ✧∘* thank you so much for expressing interest and thank you @floodbender for cowriting this post with me ♡

#sorry for the long wait!! this needed time to cook... #someone please come read about our baby darling au i'm obsessed with it #persona 5 #auverse #card shuffle #<-- tag for more on that! although there isn't really much as of rn

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #6

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Warnings: non-sexual nudity (bathing)

Ambrose’s chambers were very different from the rest of Hearthwood Inn. Elliot’s eyes flitted around the room, trying to take it all in.

The floor was dark wood; polished and gleaming. The blue and cream rugs were thick and plush. The walls were painted a vibrant green, and the fireplace was large. There was even a small shrine on a table tucked away in a corner, with a statuette that must be the god Ambrose worshiped.

“I’ll be right back.”

Ambrose stepped through the double doors that probably led to his bedroom. Elliot heard the sound of running water.

Elliot didn’t mean to pry, but his eyes led him towards the shrine in the corner near the fireplace. 

The table was small, not much bigger than a nightstand. A tiny dish held some silver coins, and strips of fine silk sat in a neat pile. The incense burner held a half-used stick, and the warm scent perfume still lingered. Sat near the edge was a small book: “The Gods and their Creations”. It was a common text, nearly everyone had heard its stories, but Elliot had never read it. The gods seemed so far away; why bother?

He didn’t recognize the statue. The face was smiling gently, like Ambrose himself. The god’s body was gold and white marble. One hand held a staff with a curve at the top, and the other rested by the god’s side, slightly offered outward. Like he was helping somebody up.

Elliot couldn’t imagine how much Ambrose had paid for it. For the entire room, even. 

He wondered what Ambrose’s bedroom looked like if the drawing room so clearly screamed wealth.

“Alright, Ellie, I’m ready. Come over and sit down, please.” Ambrose had already set up some things on a vanity on the opposite side of the fireplace. How long had he been watching him snoop?

Elliot sat on the stool. The large silver mirror made him look small compared to Ambrose standing behind him.

“Can I touch your hair?” Why was he bothering to ask? 

“Um, yes, Sir.”

“Great, thank you, love.” Ambrose hummed as he felt the hair.

___________________

It wasn’t… great. If Ambrose was being honest with himself, it was awful. He wasn’t sure how much he could save. At the nape of Elliot’s neck, he could feel some softness that had escaped mostly unscathed. The best he could hope for was a short cut.

“I’m so sorry, I'll have to cut your hair pretty short. I don’t think we can keep it long. Is that alright?”

“I can keep it short?” asked Elliot. 

“Of course you can. Is that what you’d like? You could always grow it out if you change your mind.”

“No! I mean, yes! I, um. Short hair would be perfect, Sir.” It would nearly be funny if it weren’t for the terror in his voice.

“Then we'll go short. I’ll cut your hair and then we can worry about a wash. Sound good?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He started with taking off large chunks. He could clean up the cut later. Elliot eyed every move of the scissors through the mirror. He held still, only moving when Ambrose guided his head. As the hair came off, Ambrose could see Elliot sit up more. The weight leaving his head must feel amazing.

Soon enough the mat was cut away and what remained was a scant few inches of relatively healthy hair. The color had become slightly lighter. Ambrose suspected that Elliot had done something to artificially darken it. His scalp needed a good scrubbing.

Elliot loved getting his hair washed. His eyes fluttered shut as Ambrose scratched at his scalp and sighed when Ambrose combed his hair. 

Ambrose ended up refilling the basin twice more, and used up nearly an entire jar of hair soap (a fact he hid from Elliot, whom he guessed would apologize). Elliot’s hair grew lighter. And lighter. And lighter. 

It was the palest hair Ambrose had ever seen: a bright white, the color of clouds or snow. No wonder he’d dyed it. His hair was his most recognizable feature.

___________________

“What do you think?”

Elliot’s hand slowly came up to feel his hair. His eyes were wide as he stared. Speechless. He smiled in the mirror. It was perfect.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog

#whump #Ambrose and Elliot #my writing #slavery whump

[flowertab]

How about that new NWoS trailer?!

The following will consist of an overly long series of disjointed fangirl thoughts/ramblings.

First of all this game is beautiful. And it looks and feels like a true Layton game, which is the most we can possibly ask for! That feeling of curious surroundings, weird and wonderful buildings, a town where you want to explore every cranny…the developers had previously expressed doubt about creating a Laytonesque setting in America, but they succeeded.

I was so pleased to see that the classic screen by screen, ‘point and click’ dynamic is still in place! It looks like they’re embracing what makes Layton distinct without feeling the need to shake everything up. Bonus points for including the hint coin in the lamppost; sure to make any Layton fan feel right at home! Even Luke’s comment about the gears making him dizzy brings back memories of Unwound Future. One of my favorite new touches is how Layton and Luke are visible in the foreground as the scene is examined, it looks so dynamic and expresses the scale of their surroundings! It reminds me of the rare occasions in the games that you would actually see them outside of dialogue/events (like when they’re standing by the canal outside of town in Curious Village).

Speaking of Layton and Luke, they’re both looking great!! It just tickles me to see them in a fresh look but still very much themselves. Luke has definitely grown up, and his face shape is less round, but eyes are bigger/more animesque? It just gives him this very eager, bright-eyed look, and he does seem ready to take on anything! Since our only look at him so far from the previous teaser was more of an intense moment, it’s great to see his cheerful personality shining through. Even Layton comments that he seems to be having a splendid time, and who can blame him? He’s just having the time of his life to be at the professor’s side again! (On a random side note, Luke’s satchel seems to be missing. Does he not carry it anymore? Will he be taking on more action and it would’ve gotten in the way?)

Not only are Layton and Luke voiced throughout the trailer, but even the NPC guy is! This is pretty unusual. I wonder if there will be a lot more voicing in this game compared to the others, or if it’s just for the sake of the trailer’s flow. I also wonder if we’ll have a lot of little cutscenes like when the duo is approaching the correct door. The 3D animation looks much smoother (and less unintentionally humorous/distracting) than it did on the 3ds! That being said, I’m still holding out for the iconic 2D scenes to come back!!

The music is pleasant, and definitely reminiscent of Torrido, which makes sense as it’s also a Western American town (I think). And is that our new puzzle theme? I quite like it; the “music box” backdrop reminds me of Last Specter, while the rich instrumentation makes it stand out compared to the others. (I’ve heard it compared to PL vs AA multiple times though, so while I don’t remember that theme enough to say, I’m assuming that’s true!) I really like when that lilting harmonica (?) kicks in. I do, however, await the return of the iconic chunky accordion. The puzzle itself seems like exactly my favorite type, deduction/process of elimination. How cool to see the memo and everything being utilized right on top of the scene! It reminds you that the two are really solving a puzzle right in front of them. I wonder how this puzzle might change in the final game, as they’ve already shown the answer…oh, and let’s take a moment to appreciate that glorious solving animation! I recall two-person animations being a feature of the crossover that I really liked, and it only makes sense when the puzzle was solved by working together. Just seeing those two as a team again makes me so happy!!

This is more on the random side but…Eggmuffin? I mean, Eggmuffin? Is that really his name?? I had a hard time taking it seriously every time they said it. It sounds like one of those names that would be changed in localization—but then, if any series can get away with using something so silly until we just accept it and stop finding it weird, it’s probably this one. I have also heard it speculated that it may be an alias, though why he would want to be called this is beyond me.

All that aside, there’s just something about this game that already feels nostalgic to me, even while being so fresh and unexplored. I can only think that’s simply because it is a Layton game in every sense of the word. For a longtime fan who hasn’t experienced that anew in roughly ten years, it’s like coming home.

…and that is the only reason I can stand waiting until 2025! Oh dear, I hope they overestimated to play it safe, especially since reportedly the puzzles are all finished and production is moving smoothly. But, in the end, if it is truly the Laytonesque adventure it looks to be, it will be worth the wait—and I thank the development team for caring enough to not to rush it. I’ve waited this long.

(looks like I’ll be playing through the series again to help hold me over throughout next year! Layton fans, let’s hold fast! We’re in this together!)

#wow that was long #if you actually read to the end #or any of it honestly #thanks! #discussion and speculation are a big help in waiting for things #professor layton #professor layton and the new world of steam #pl nwos

[maedivae]

Who was the worst, snow or coin?

Why?

Thank you. @curiousnonny

This will be a long post! But I have some funny little sentences thrown in there, it's worth it. I can safely say Snow was worse, especially with the prequel in mind but even just counting the trilogy, he's definitely the source of most of everyone's problems. But it's a testament to how annoying Coin was that she can appear in one book and be compared to the main villain at all. I'll explain my perspective on Coin but first Snow:

I think by nature he always had some narcissistic and self-serving traits, since he's an asshole early on in Ballad. I mean, in the first chapter he has extremely weird judgmental comments about how his cousin Tigris might have prostituted herself out since they're heavily impoverished. He's very morally pure, only thinking in black and white. Overall he's controlling in his relationship to Lucy Gray, as he gets jealous over any references to her having previous relationships, and pretends to have empathy for other people but it's surface level. Even his grief over Sejanus lasts a short time, with his only concern being whether or not his mom will still send him cookies. And then with his death he steals Sejanus's entire claim to his family, since Snow is on the verge of bankruptcy if not already there. It's not difficult to see how well he fits into the world of politics from here.

Although Snow was more ambitious than his classmates and rivals, he had just about the same underlying ideologies so I guess in that way he was ultimately a product of the Capitol and represents a lot more in the story. He believes humans are inherently self-interested, and when it comes down to it, anyone would be able to put their own survival above their own morals. It's what he does in the prequel. It's what he believes the Games prove, that the most innocent members of society (kids) are able to turn into monsters.

That kind of viewpoint is in opposition to Katniss's actions, so he's a better direct antagonist than Coin. Like, there's no way any of Katniss's actions could be attributed to pure survival if we're being serious. I know some people like to pretend she's an unemotional survivalist, but time and again she wants to team up with someone's grandma who's nonverbal from a stroke, middle aged computer science nerds, a twelve year old, a recovering drug addict who keeps her up at 3 AM, an alcoholic who trips on his own puke, and a lovesick teenage boy whose bone you can see protruding from his leg wound and leaking pus. She has the option to not tolerate many of these people she just never takes it. It's why the rebels liked Katniss to begin with! When she says she doesn't want Snow to win, she doesn't want his mindset to win. She bets on Peeta not having a flashback and trying to kill her because she believes that people aren't as bad as Snow makes them out to be.

So really I just feel like Snow was always the villain, Coin was more of a side antagonist, a secondary threat for Katniss to deal with after everything's said and done.

We know more about Snow than Coin, and we expect him to be evil as a dictator, so perhaps we may be more surprised or betrayed by Coin committing war crimes when she's supposed to be a rebel leader. But I feel like she wasn't always evil based on what little information we have of her. Just strict, because leading District 13 through an epidemic in close quartered underground spaces was probably rough. The same outbreak which took out her own family (she had a husband and daughter). She uses the same strict set of rules as we see District 13 under when Katniss arrives. This wouldn't be a problem if not for the severity of what it means to break these rules and the lack of equity in the presence of equality.

Like, Katniss has to fight for her Capitol prep team to not be tortured over stealing food. They were being starved in a room by the time she found them. She also has to fight for the victors currently being tortured and manipulated into saying anti-rebellion statements in the Capitol to be pardoned if they even make it safely to 13, no guarantees there, because they wait a few months to try rescuing them. When they do get the victors from the Capitol, Coin and Plutarch try to speed up their recoveries in order to get them back in the public eye to be used as propaganda. This means drugging them and sending them into a war zone against their consent. And that's not even covering Coin's barely disguised attempts to kill Katniss, endangering everyone around her too, then when that fails killing her sister instead because then she'd finally stay out of her way. But of course that doesn't work out.

Coin is very cold-blooded like Snow. Obviously. And she's really a symbol of what's to come if Katniss doesn't nip some of these rebels in the bud. Rebels who haven't even been in danger from the Capitol, by the way, since the people from 13 have been hiding in a bunker for 75 years. Coin, who suggests punishing the Capitol with their own Games, hasn't had to sacrifice any of 13's young to the Games. It's not her decision to make (and it's the wrong one anyways). District 13 is practically a separate country trying to swoop in and take over Panem with an actual civil war between oppressor and oppressed happening.

At a certain point in Mockingjay, Katniss knows Snow dying is an inevitability, the geezer is coughing up blood and swallowing it back with his wine and then taking inconspicuous naps at his desk. A light breeze could come in from an open window and get the job done. So there's no use in her wish of killing him anymore. That doesn't mean he's not as evil, because he's done far more over the years, but I think by Katniss going on a vengeful quest to kill Snow for a large part of the book to ultimately give it up is powerful. Because while Snow was the origin of the evil, Coin would've just continued it if she wasn't stopped. And she had only one arrow to spare.

~~~

Also an aside that Katniss's motivations are mainly for Peeta in Mockingjay. What triggers her to go to the Capitol in search of vengeance is literally what happens to Peeta. She can't deal with it in 13 and she feels useless trying to help him, to the point where assassinating Snow is a more likely goal. What ultimately convinces her to become the Mockingjay is Peeta. I gotta say it!

#the hunger games #thg #thg meta #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow #alma coin #president snow #president coin #district 13 #tbosas spoilers #tbosas #long post #text post #answered

[apoptoses]

This is so fucking good! The way you’re peeling back Armand’s layers and making him come face to face with his religious trauma as well as his entire existence via the sheer power of horniness is amazing. He called Daniel his teacher in the 20th century and he was, but beyond that he played such an instrumental role in Armand’s journey of self-discovery, and all of those parts of him he thought he’d lost long ago. To quote Kendall Roy, he’s about to embark on one of the all time great psychosexual expeditions and he really shouldn’t be fighting it 🥰

This Armand was very reminiscent of horny asf Blood Sanation!Armand where he was aching for Daniel to ravish him in the back of a random alley in NOLA imo, and it takes me back to one of our previous chats about Daniel being one of the very few living creatures who’s gotten to know and experience the closest thing to Amadeo that still lives inside Armand.

Also, your take on Daniel being “cold, resentful” during the threesome was spot on. By that point, that man was past any semblance of interest in having sex with anyone but Armand, the only thing that managed to arouse him/make him come was the “dual purpose” of the encounters, the fact that he could either imagine himself doing it to Armand or the other way around, and that came across so well here! He really said “fuck them threesomes I want my baby” 🥹

And last but not least, this whole paragraph is perfection: “But you’d ached for your master, hadn’t you? You spent days in brothels, surrounded by life, and every waking moment you craved death instead. Nothing had ever compared to the monster in your bed. Nothing will ever compare for Daniel, you’re lying to yourself just like you lie to him”, screaming I’m obsessed!!!!

My canonically vers kings, I love them so! And you do them justice every time. Can’t wait for the next part xoxo DA ❤️

Dungeon anon, quoting Kendall Roy from the infamous l to the og episode is enough to get me down on one knee for you, I swear 🥹

But YES, exactly! Armand has to face these things from his past or he'll never move on, and if it takes being desperately vampire horny for Daniel to make him do it- so be it. He can't sit in his pit of repression forever. When he suffers he makes everyone around him suffer with him and he has to decide here if that's worth it.

And yes!! Daniel is the only being besides Marius, Bianca, and Riccardo to really experience Amadeo. It's a second-hand experience that comes in bits and flashes but in many ways that's Armand's true self, and it's only through Daniel that it's started to come through again. His mortality brings out the mortal in him.

Also, your take on Daniel being “cold, resentful” during the threesome was spot on. <- thank you!! That's such a contentious quote from the book and people have so many readings on it, but in my heart it's always been that 1) daniel doesn't want anyone but armand at this point so he's over it and 2) he's so disconnected from mortality that he wants to be turned and be like armand. He didn't resent the sex, just the barrier the third person put between the two of them.

And ahh, that paragraph you quoted! It's so funny because he's so wrapped up in his feelings that he doesn't truly acknowledge that Daniel is feeling exactly as he did! Aching for death and the monster in his bed. They're two sides of the same horny coin and I love them.

I'm so happy you're into it ♥ The next chapter has some good smut and good times for Armand, it'll be up soon!

#apoptoses answers #dungeon anon

[scalproie]

Haha. Kazuya. You understand.

one aspect about them i love

THEM TIDDIES

but fr he has his whole aesthetic on point. and I will say. him face. nice

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

HE'S A TRAGIC CHARACTER. HE'S SOOO DOOMED IN ANY WAY BC CHARACTERS LIKE HIM ARE MEANT TO BE PUT DOWN IN A SATISFYING STORY. HE HAS WINGS AT HIS STRONGEST BC THE MOST DEFINING MOMENT OF HIS LIFE WAS FALLING OFF A CLIFF. HE'S ON TOP OF THE WORLD, THE HIGHEST HE'S EVER BEEN, BUT HE'S NEVER TRULY LEFT THE BOTTOM OF THAT CLIFF. HE'S ALONE UP THERE. HE'S A CONTROL FREAK WHOM YOU NEVER KNOW IF HE IS ACTUALLY FULLY IN CONTROL (IF AT ALL) IF YOU REALLY STOP TO THINK ABOUT IT. HE'S SOOO COMPLEX BUT WE'VE NEVER BEEN ALLOWED TO DWELVE INTO THAT COMPLEXITY. HE'S A REALLY INTERESTING CHARACTER AND I DIE INSIDE WHEN THEY KEEP PUSHING HIM INTO THE "PURE EVIL" BOX WHEN EVEN WHEN HE MADE THOSE CHOICES HE STILL IS NOT!!! I FEEL LIKE AN INSANE PERSON WHEN I SAY THERE IS SMTH SO EXTREMELY COMPELLING ABOUT KAZUYA MISHIMA.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

- hes still alive in the tekken:tmp timeline since jun successfully "saved" him, and while the familial situation isnt the best it could be, its still far better than you'd expect with jun and jin

- he doesnt even consider himself fully human anymore but hes truly at his core Just A Guy. take the morning coffee. collect shoes. eat boring food. hes a very plain guy and its hilarious. what does he even do all day, the role of a ceo is to make connections and relationships and hes a shadow ceo. he is so painfully A Man In His Fifties that if you remove the tekken context he could grill a mean steak I know this in my heart, what do japanese dads even do for a bbq equivalent.

- kazumi styled his hair Like That back in the day and so he will wear that hairstyle for life

one character i love seeing them interact with

Apparently in bruce's t6 ending, hes speaking to his superior(?) about a mission well done but it's said he's reporting directly to kazuya, so even if who hes talking to is speaking in english I have to wonder if it was meant to be kaz at one point. Anyway if it is I love the casualness of this interaction.

Also jin! people say theyre tired of the mishima focus but NOT ME bc those dudes only interacted ONCE until t8 finally drops. Anyway their hostility toward each other is sooo obviously fabricated bc if the writers REALLY wanted to get into it, this father&son relationship would be so much more complex than that. Also in the first project x zone, devil kazuya is a boss fight and at one point devil and kazuya are fighting for control and for one (1) second, jin sounds concerned for his dad in the way that he wont be able to kill him while kazuya is himself. fun stuff. Their more neutral interactions as a tag team in pxz2 are a lot of fun too, especially when they team up to tear verbally into heihachi. Anyway like everything about kaz, his relationship with his son isnt explored enough.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

Harada For The Love Of God Don't Fuck Up Kazuya's Interactions With Jun In Tekken 8.

I want to see fucking flashbacks man, how did it fucking happen. They had to have exchanged AT LEAST a couple words before getting to jin's conception and I WANNA KNOW. ITS THE MOST MYSTERIOUS AND INTERESTING RELATIONSHIP IN TEKKEN.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

I feel like. if you stripped kazuya and jun of status and general opposite moral stances, theyre very very similar. I will wait for official t8 confirmation oh what they thought of the other but I feel they are two side of a same coin. People usually speak of jun making kazuya better but I like the other side of kazuya making jun a bit worse. In a very indulgent way I often wonder what it wouldve been like if they tried at all to make it work long term and I dont think it wouldve been that bad, especially compared to how the previous main mishima relationship ended up.

#kaz also has the privilege of not having been somewhat stained like jin in t6 and heihachi in t7 #cause both did disservices to these characters #and yet its so frustrating bc kaz. is just. SITTING THERE. #BAMCO HES READY TO GO HE HAS THINGS TO SAY AND DO AND REPRESENT AND INTROSPECTION TO MAKE #OR BETTER YET BAMCO GIVE HIM HERE I CAN MAKE THE NARRATIVE FOR HIM BETTER. I HAVE IDEAS I HAVE PLANS. KINDA #tagging later #nozomijoestar #ask meme

[ruki--mukami]

  ♡ _  ♡  (an attempt to gain some appreciation during bad hours-)

send me    ‘  ♡ _  ♡ ‘    and my muse will admit one to three ( 1-3 )  features of your muse  ( physical or personality )   that they find incredibly attractive. 

"Ah, Kuron... There's his assertiveness that I'm often fond of. All throughout the time I've known him, he is willing to fight for what he believes in. A man with strong convictions is undoubtedly attractive, no? I appreciate that he won't let others trample upon him in order to preserve his dignity. Anyone assuming the 'Mukami' last name should behave as such. Compared to the Sakamakis, we're a much more lenient yet steadfast family of demons, meaning we won't exert ourselves unless someone has wronged us in some way or form. With Kuron in particular, I feel as though I can depend on him to stand his ground. How admirable indeed."

"However, there is another side of the same coin to consider as well. When he's not exhibiting this confidence, he shows a vulnerable side to his loved ones as well. I also find it attractive how, much like the previous point I raised, that he knows when to ask those he holds dear for help and guidance whenever he's navigating through a rough patch or going through an especially difficult time. And there's no greater thrill than being this person for Kuron. I admire how he comes to me and shows me sides of himself that no one else has seen, and perhaps I'm selfish to think this way, but I'd like for it to remain as such—a sight for my eyes only."

"Thirdly, Kuron is incredibly hard-working and diligent in what he does as both an idol and a teacher. Simply balancing both occupations on top of his sociability is no easy feat. In fact, I wish to become as multi-faceted as him in some aspects. One's adaptability, talent, and patience often dictates success as both someone in the limelight and an educator imparting knowledge to hundreds of students. Truly, what a creative soul... I read about individuals like this, both fictional and real, from time to time, yet Kuron blows all of them out of the water with ease. It's my pleasure to know him."

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #attractive features meme #kuron mukami #mukami-kuron-mrsadisticcat #(( i hope you feel better soon!! ))

[lycomorpha]

Dice doodles workshop 28-Jan-2023

Thanks to everyone who came to Saturday’s doodle session, & thanks to Maria for the biscuits!

Here are all the doodle games we played, and some suggestions for variations. Our aim is always for these doodles to be short, require no particular drawing skills, and be possible to do in a single pen on lined paper (so you can repeat them even when you don't have many art supplies handy)...

Our next workshop is on Saturday 25th February 2pm at the Rising Sun Arts Centre, Reading and tickets are at https://dicedoodlesfeb2023.eventbrite.co.uk

~

Warm-up & intro doodles

1) Maria’s favourite doodle

This is Maria’s favourite space-filling doodle and, although it doesn’t use any dice, it’s a good warm-up/down exercise to ease you into a doodling frame of mind.

Draw irregular blobs quite close to each other all over your page

Connect adjacent blobs by drawing short, roughly parallel lines between them – see the images below, I think they look a bit like like the rungs on a ladder

Where you find an intersection of 3 or more blobs that is hard to fill with lines, draw a small circle

You can fill in the blobs with patterns or colours

Find a video of this doodle in paint here, and some more easy warm up/down space filling doodles here and here.

~

2) Easy grid doodle: every Nth cell

This doodle uses 1 x D6 (six-sided die) to choose where to draw small symbols in a grid. In the workshop we asked participants to arbitrarily choose symbols but you could use another die, e.g. a D12, and assign a symbol to each number on it.

Draw a rough grid that fills your page – for this starter exercise, 6 or 7 columns and rows is enough, but you can draw as many as you like (it will just take you longer the more cells you have in your grid)

Pick an arbitrary symbol (triangle, heart, spiral etc) and roll a D6 to get a number (N)

Draw your symbol in every Nth cell of your grid – example: if you picked a triangle and rolled a 3, draw a triangle in every 3rd cell of the grid

Pick another symbol, roll again and draw your next symbol in every Nth cell. Repeat until your cells are full, or decide you’re finished

It doesn’t matter if you count your cells in a horizontal or vertical direction

It also doesn’t matter if you draw big symbols over each other, or small symbols so that they don’t overlap when you have multiple symbols in a cell

If you’re drawing in colour and have a full set of dice, as well as adding a D12 to pick symbols, you could add one more die to choose which colour you draw in. You could alternatively use a shuffled deck of cards - pick symbols using card face value, and colour using suits.

~

3) Abstract contours

Ahh this is a Random Doodle Club classic; a loop and layers doodle (or a blobs and lines doodle. Whatever you feel like calling it.) Today we used an odd/even rule to choose whether to draw a blob, or a line around it. You could just as easily flip a coin to do the same.

Draw a small circular(ish) blob in the middle of your page

Roll any die. If the number rolled is odd, draw a line around your blob. If it’s even, draw another blob-shape

Repeat drawing lines around the whole of your pattern/more blobs, until you run out of space

This can be done using one pen, or several colours. You can assign colours to different numbers if using a die. If you make the pattern using a black pen it can be coloured later.

Variations include:

Instead of drawing a single blob/line, roll an extra die to decide how many blobs/lines to draw each turn

Use a larger die (e.g a D12) and higher/lower rule instead of an odd/even rule – draw a blob if you roll a higher number than your first or previous roll, and a line if lower. Higher/lower rules often lead to a different pattern in your drawing compared to odd/even rules.

There are more complex layer drawings from past workshops here:

https://www.immysmith.net/blog/2020/4/14/leaflayerdrawinggame

https://www.immysmith.net/blog/2021/mpls3

https://www.immysmith.net/blog/bookface-doodle-diaries

https://www.immysmith.net/blog/6-rule-drawings

~

4) D6 Island

This activity uses the contour pattern from the previous game as the basis for a map of an imaginary island.

Make a contour pattern as in the previous activity using a light-coloured pen or pencil. Try to make your blobs a little larger, and pinch your lines together in places to create some steep contours

Each blob will represent a flat area of land, and we can use dice to decide what lives or is built there. For each one, roll a D6 to fill each in turn with shapes/colours/patterns using the list below to decide what each area contains:

1 = meadow

2 = pond or lake

3 = house

4 = livestock (e.g. sheep)

5 = orchard or beehives

6 = castle/tower or other tall building e.g. a lighthouse

For each steep area of your island where contours are very close together and form valleys, roll a D6 to choose what to draw in that valley:

1-2 = a river springing from an underground source or a lake, and running down to the edge of the island

3-4 = a forested area with trees and shrubs

5-6 = a cool rock formation, a scree (lots of small stones,) or a boulder field. Rocks basically, is what we’re after here

If any areas look a little bare, you can fill them in with more buildings or natural features in whatever way you like or come up with a dice rule to fill them. You can also add some sea around your island, draw it a flag, or add any other features you want.

~

5) Grid doodle: frames and borders

Divide your page into a grid with 5-7 columns and rows. You want enough cells to keep your drawing varied, but not so many that each cell is too small to draw in. Here’s a doodle made with a 6 x 5 cell grid on an A4 page:

For each cell in your grid, roll a die/flip a coin

If the result is odd/heads, draw a smaller shape in the cell to create an internal border – any shape is fine, but bear in mind you will be adding patterns to the border and doodling inside the border too

If the result is even/tails, leave the cell blank and move on to the next

Pick 6 colours of pen or pencil and assign them to each number for a D6. Then roll for each cell in your grid, to choose which colour to either fill the border or the whole of each cell

Pick 6 patterns you can draw in a cell border, and for each cell with a border, roll a D6 to choose the pattern. Go over your coloured border making patterns in a darker colour. Example patterns:

1 = stripes

2 = spots

3 = hearts

4 = flowers

5 = X’s

6 = teardrops

Pick 6 lovely things to doodle (tree shapes, flowewrs etc) and, for each cell, roll a D6 to choose which thing you will draw in it – either fill the whole of a coloured cell with that thing, or draw your shape in the blank space of a cell with a border. Examples are:

1 = Trees

2 = Fungi

3 = Bugs

4 = Flowers

5 = Clouds/weather

6 = Love hearts

Colour any of your shapes as much as you like.

This game also works in black and white if you skip the colouring step, and you can always colour it in later.

Video for another grid doodle is here

There are many possible variations on these grid games, using more dice to pick shapes for inside borders, different colours for borders and whole cells, and a larger array of patterns. You can also use a shuffled deck of playing cards and use the card pip shapes (spade, heart, club, diamond) as border motifs, then use the card numbers to choose from 13 lovely things to draw inside your grid cells.

~

6) Warm-down: ripples on a pond

To warm down we drew an oval outline filling a page to represent a pond. Then we made simple space-filling ripple patterns using a die to choose the number of ripples at any point in our pond.

You could assign colours to the ripples you draw using another die. You could divide the pond into segments and use another die to decide which segment you put your ripples in. You can also place ripples around the pond using a D8 as a compass or a D12 for clock points – some examples of using dice to determine direction can be found at https://curiouslyfoxy.blogspot.com/2022/06/junes-random-doodle-club.html

~

That's all the activities for our starter workshop, thanks again to everyone who joined us. The next 2 workshops are on the 25 Feb and 25 Mar.

#doodle #doodles #dice #dice doodles #art class #art workshop #workshop #reading #berkshire #rdg #rdgUK #inrdg #whats on reading #rising sun arts centre #ink doodle #ink sketch #pencil sketch #sketch #sketchbook #drawing game #drawing games

[seconds-not-decades]

Step {Back} In Time

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem! OC

Author's Note: Hello and welcome. This is my season two fic (and sequel to Time and Chase). I will be posting daily. *Please note that I am well aware that Elliot Page portrays Viktor, but due to season two being before his transition, that is why his character is still Vanya. I am not deadnaming him and I sincerely hope I don't come across as such. I will transition when I write season three.*

Warnings: Slightly long post, cursing, violence, lots of blood, and mention of death.

Previous | Next

Öga For Öga

~ * ~

On April the 1st, 2019, the Earth was destroyed in a cataclysmic event.

Billions of people were wiped out in a matter of minutes.

Ironically, the seven survivors of the apocalypse were the very family members who brought it on.

~ * ~

1982

Five and Karina made their way to the hotel, with Five reading the paper to make sure they were at the right place. More or less time period. The two slipped inside the hotel, surrounded by people dressed in some European folk attire.

"Excuse me," Five went over to a lady near the front desk.

"Uff da!" she shot up quickly. "You two snuck up on me there. If you're looking for the cookies, we don't put 'em out till 3:00."

"I can hardly wait," Five dryly returned.

"Uh, ma'am, do you happen to know where the Midwest Soybean Society is meeting?" Karina inquired sweetly.

The lady smiled at her fondly. "Sure do, honey bun. Muskellunge Banquet Room. You two looking for your mom? She in for the convention?"

"Hey, could I get some change?" Five noticed the vending machine in the hall behind her, holding out a few bills.

"Oh, sure, I'll just look in my purse," the lady took it as Karina gave him a sideways look. The lady exhaled softly when she pulled out some coins. "Only a nickel and a couple of dimes. Oh! You…are…in…luck, mister." She placed the coins in his hand and chuckled softly.

"You know, some say the best luck is to die at the right time," Five told her out of the blue.

The lady stared at him speechlessly before he meandered away to the vending machine.

"I…am so sorry. You'll have to excuse my boyfriend. He takes his poetry and literature very seriously," Karina lied to the poor woman before running off after Five.

Five was busily shaking the vending machine and yelling at it. "Stupid mother Fudge Nutter!" he slammed against it and cracked the glass. "Fuckin' Fudge Nutter!"

"How much damage are you going to inflict onto that poor vending machine?" Karina crossed her arms.

Five growled and stepped back to her side. "Why do I even bother with things anymore? Nothing ever goes according to plan."

"Mm, I think your marriage is holding up pretty well."

"It might be the only thing holding up compared to all the other shitstorms thrown at us."

"Let's just get this over, shall we?" Karina looked at him rather expectantly.

Five noticed she was shaking more than she would ever care to admit and he could sense her nerves clear across the room. He'd almost never seen her more afraid in his life. Nervous yes, uneasy, of course. But scared? She tried to hide her fear if anything else.

"Rina? What was the Handler talking about earlier?" he questioned, taking her firmly by the shoulders. "I need to know if you feel up to doing this."

Karina sighed. "It's a long story. I just never liked killing people. But, we need to get home and this is the only way to do it."

"Love-"

"We're wasting time, Five. I'm fine," she cut him off, but seeing the look on his face made her relent. "Okay, okay. She sent me out on a mission for something once, testing to see if I would make for a good field agent, because she thought about partnering us up. Well, it backfired, but I made it out and she decided against it in the end."

"Why was this never brought up to me? I could have helped you," Five was slightly upset now as they made their way to the meeting room.

"Because she didn't give me a choice and I didn't get the chance to tell you before she shoved me out of the nest," Karina heavily sighed, looking down whilst shaking her head. "And honestly, Five, after it happened, I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to forget it. Even the Handler didn't ever mention it after I got back."

"Did something happen to you?" he slowly looked at her.

Karina paused for a moment. "Yes," she quietly responded. "However, it's in the past and I'd love for it to stay there."

"I'm sorry. If you…ever want to talk about it again, just let me know," he took a breath.

She flashed him a ghost of a smile. The two continued walking to the meeting room, though Five eyed a large cake along the way and swiped his finger along the icing.

"That's sanitary of you," Karina scoffed as he licked the icing.

"Buttercream. Not bad," he spotted an axe hanging on the wall.

He grabbed the axe as Karina pulled out the dagger. The two stared at the doors and took a breath.

"Shall we make it rain?" Five glanced at Karina.

"Let's do it."

And with that, the two barged into the meeting room, weapons at the ready.

"Let's move on to article 17, please," AJ spoke as they entered. He gasped and shot up when he saw them. "You two!" he looked at Karina. "I thought you were only the Head of the briefcase division!"

"Decided to shake things up with a little help," Karina smirked.

"Call security!" AJ ordered as a woman hurried to the phone.

However, Five blinked over to her and cut her arm off as Karina threw her dagger, stabbing another. Gasps and screams erupted all around as the blood bath raged on. The two ruthlessly took out the Directors, stabbing and slicing their way through them without giving the members any last chance. One body was shoved through the ceiling and electricity crackled.

AJ shakily cowered down beneath the table as Five suddenly blinked onto the table with Karina. They were glaring down at him.

"She sent you two, didn't she?" AJ questioned.

"Does it really matter now?" Five scoffed.

"Whatever she offered you, I will double it, triple it!"

"We're not doing this for money," Karina stated as Five raised his axe.

The attendant from earlier came flying in, knocking both of them down as they crashed onto the ground.

"Get off me!" Five grunted, struggling to throw her off of him as Karina barely rolled out of the way.

"You're gonna pay for that vending machine, little mister!" she was fighting him.

"Yeah? I don't wanna hurt you, all right?"

"Hurt me? Oh, I ain't afraid of you, you little pus ball!"

Karina got to her feet and struck the woman in the back of her head with the handle of her dagger and knocked her unconscious. The lights were crackling above them as they looked around wildly to find that AJ escaped.

"Shit!" they both exclaimed, leaping to their feet.

They each grabbed a large paddle off the mantel before Five blinked them out. AJ was running down the hall when they reappeared in front of him and he gasped.

"Surely we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties!" he exclaimed. "Quid pro quo? What do you two say?"

Five scoffed. "Why not? Here's your quid-" he struck AJ in the side and he shrieked.

"Here's your pro!" Karina hit him in the knees and he groaned, collapsing to the floor.

Five lined up his paddle with the tank.

"No! No! Please don't!" AJ whimpered desperately.

"Here's your quo," Five finished.

"No…!" AJ wailed as Five's paddle smashed into the tank.

Water gushed out everywhere and the goldfish flailed onto the floor. His body fell down, thudding onto the ground.

Five and Karina let out a breath, covered in blood and hoping the price of their murder spree was worth paying.

~ * ~

The two were waiting impatiently in the alleyway. AJ was in a bag grasped by Five.

"Well?" the Handler appeared behind them. Five shoved his arm out and she gasped. "AJ!" she triumphantly cackled and cooed over the fish. She sighed, looking at Five. "You know, you're really starting to fill out those tight little shorts of yours." She glanced at Karina next. "And you are really starting to show off some serious potential in this field!" The Handler  giggled as the couple glared at her. "Why so quiet? Thought you'd be buzzing after this morning's slaughter, especially since you did it together. Or is it like that one saying? Happy wife, happy life? Except…unhappy wife, unhappy life?" she chuckled at her own terrible joke.

"All this killing…I'm done with it," Five bit out. "And you have some nerve to send Rina out with me. More or less all those years ago, behind my back!"

The Handler was rather taken back by his outburst. "What? Am I supposed to take that seriously?" She whipped out a handkerchief and began dabbing away the blood on their faces.

"What we did today, we did for our family. We did it to save the world," he glared at her.

"Please. Spare me your little assassin with the heart of gold routine, will you?" the Handler remarked. "Here." She picked up the briefcase. "Per our agreement, this will get you, your wife, and your siblings back to 2019." She handed it to Karina. "You both have 90 minutes."

That caught their attention real quick as the Handler strolled off.

"You said nothing about a time limit!" Karina snapped.

"Actually, you have 89 minutes and 30 seconds, my lovely flower. Better hurry!"

"This is impossible, okay? My siblings are scattered across the city!" Five added desperately.

"Nothing's impossible. You two proved that this morning when you killed the board."

"We need more time!"

"Any more time, and people will start asking questions. The sooner you get home and out of this time period, the better off the three of us will be, so, ticktock, ticktock," the Handler softly said, almost menacingly.

Five looked like he was about to explode, but he shot her one last glare before blinking himself and Karina out. The two blinked inside the lobby of Elliot's place.

"Oh my God…" Karina pointed to the message written in blood on the floor.

"Shit," Five breathed out and the two quickly raced upstairs.

The two found a body with a cloth draped over it in a chair and he went over to investigate who it was. He drew down the cloth and the two hissed out in horror when they saw who it was.

"Elliot…" Karina drew out softly and sadly.

Five swallowed hard, staring down at him sorrowfully before wordlessly pulling the cloth back over him. The two began looking around for the rest of the family. Well, first they ducked down to properly and fully clean off the blood on their faces. They could hear Luther and Diego whispering.

"You will be dead by nightfall," Diego harshly threatened over the phone.

"Hey!" Five caught their attention. "It's Öga För Öga, idiots. Swedish for "an eye for an eye." It means the Swedes killed Elliott." He slid off his blazer as Karina took her jacket off.

"Wrong number. Have a lovely day," Diego said into the phone before slamming it onto the receiver.

Five sputtered some.

"We would've gotten there," Luther looked at Diego.

"Eventually."

"Yeah."

Five and Karina sighed, listening to the rather dumbfounded brothers.

Diego turned to them. "Uh, you two have some blood on you," Luther observed.

They slipped past them to the bathroom.

"A lot of blood, actually," Diego continued, watching them go.

"Five, Karina what did you do?" Luther was exasperated.

Karina shut the bathroom door on them and locked it.

"You guys better not plan on boning in there!" Diego loudly told them as the two brothers walked off.

That was not their plan at all. All they needed was to wash the blood out of their clothes so, they just opted to use the sink. Five let Karina go first, though she needed a shower more than anything so while she got a shower, he rinsed out the blood and dried her clothes as best as he could. The two switched positions once they were done. Once they were decent enough, Karina reopened the door.

"So we found a way home," Five announced as he redid his tie with Karina's help.

"What? How?" Luther questioned from outside the doorway.

"All the details are irrelevant, but…we made a deal to get back to our timeline," Karina responded, gently fixing Five's hair for a moment.

"What about doomsday?" Diego piped up.

"Won't happen," Five softly thanked Karina and plopped a kiss on her cheek.

"And the 2019 apocalypse?" Luther added.

"Everything will be back to normal. All right?" Karina assured them as the two left the bathroom.

"Now, no more questions. We gotta go," Five sighed. "We have to find the others, right?"

"Yeah," Luther replied.

"Luther, you get Allison."

"Okay."

"Diego, Klaus," Five pointed to him next. "We'll get Vanya."

"Now, we meet back in the arrival alley in 77 minutes," Karina continued as Five threw his blazer back on. "Here. I've synchronized these watches." She handed each of the boys a watch.

"Okay, let's do this," Luther was determined.

Diego however, was skeptical. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on! You two show up drenched in blood and expect us to believe everything's gonna go back to normal if we go home now?"

"Elliott just got killed because of us," Karina pointed out defensively.

"What about Dad? What about JFK?" Diego strode over to them coolly.

"Diego, we have a chance to go home and make things right. We are taking it," Five retorted, looking up at him in irritation.

"I have to say goodbye to Lila," he announced.

"Lila doesn't give a shit about you, Diego!" Five burst out in exasperation and Karina grabbed his shoulder, giving him a soft but warning look. "She never did. She's one of them," he continued a bit calmer.

"She's a member of the Commission," Karina looked at Diego sympathetically. She felt bad for him, truly.

He immediately shook his head. "No way. Not possible."

"She was just using you to get to us. You're the Oswald of this story, my friend. The goddamned patsy," Five turned and walked off.

"You don't know what you're talk-"

Five suddenly blinked in front of him, glaring up at him. "If you don't do this, I'll kill you myself. Got it?" he threatened him.

Diego coldly eyed him. Karina mouthed an apology to him before Five blinked them out.

~ * ~

Five and Karina were on their way to find his sister, when suddenly they ironically drove by her. Her and Five exchanged a stare and parked on the sides of the dirt road to converse.The three hurriedly got out and met in the middle.

"What are you two doing here?" Vanya asked.

"Looking for you. We're going back to 2019," Karina replied.

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, we don't really have time to explain right now, but we found a way home. All right?" Five broke in, glancing at his watch. "We have 30 minutes to leave."

"What about my friends? I can't just leave them here," Vanya was taken back, stopping the two before they got back in their car.

"Vanya, you don't have a choice in this, all right? Doomsday will happen if you don't come with us."

"Okay, then I'm bringing them with me," she remarked.

Karina gave her a sad look.

"They belong in this timeline," Five heaved a breath.

"Says who? You get to take Karina everywhere!" Vanya shouted, making him look at her in slight shock and Karina winced from that. "Sissy deserves a life where she doesn't have to pretend to be someone she's not. And Harlan? There's a name for what he has. We can get him the help he needs. If you can bring a plus one with you to every timeline, why can't I bring mine?"

"Because Rina is from our timeline. Not from any other. Ours. She doesn't belong here," Five explained coolly.

"Vanya-" Karina began.

"Look, a mom and her eight-year-old son are not gonna screw up the timeline, Five!" Vanya cut her off hotly. "They're insignificant."

"No one is insignificant," Five walked towards her. "We're sorry, all right? But we can't take that risk. They have to stay. Come on."

He and Karina started to make their way towards the car.

"Why do you get to decide?" Vanya shot in their wake. "You're the reason we're stuck here in the first place."

Five whipped around to face her again. "If I did nothing, we would all be dead right now, thanks to you!"

"Five…" Karina scolded him warningly.

"They're coming with me," Vanya was determined.

He scoffed dangerously, going back over to her. "Vanya, do not test me right now."

"That's funny. 'Cause I was just about to say the same thing," Vanya threatened.

She began to glow as Five conjured up his own power. Karina swallowed hard, about to intervene but they both powered down.

"Fine," Vanya relented grudgingly.

"'Fine,' what?" Five questioned.

"I'll be there, but I need to say goodbye first."

"Oh, Vanya, we don't have the time," Five told her almost sadly.

"Well, it's either that or I'm not coming."

"It's okay. Meet us in the alley. Just don't be late," Karina jumped in before Five could argue.

He sighed and muttered as the three split ways.

"Really? "It's okay"? You know we're on an insane time crunch here, Rina," Five remarked as Karina drove them off.

"Five, we're taking her from her friends. The least we can do is let her say goodbye. Besides, if the roles were reversed, I know you'd be wanting to say goodbye to me for the last time before you left," she pointed out.

He immediately went quiet from that.

She was right. Of course she was right.

"I know," he softly spoke after a few moments.

"I'm sorry this is stressing you out," Karina sympathetically told him. "But I know Vanya understands. She'll do her best to be here. As will the others."

"We'll see, darling," Five sighed.

~ * ~

The couple made it back to the alley and Five grabbed the suitcase he stashed in the dumpster. Five checked his watch as Luther came racing out.

"Hey," he greeted. "Where is everyone?"

Five grinned proudly. "You're the first."

"What?"

"Yeah."

Klaus came flailing into the alley, though in all reality it was Ben possessing his body.

"Hey! Hey! We made it!" he was chuckling and grunted when Klaus tried to take control.

Five, Karina, and Luther looked at him nervously.

"What do you mean, "we"?" Karina echoed confusedly.

There were distorted grunts coming from them as Klaus groaned and gurgled. The three watched him in growing concern.

"Get out! Out!" Klaus demanded. His body gurgled and soon he threw up, kicking Ben out in the process.

The three wrinkled their noses in disgust as Klaus continued groaning, collapsing onto the pavement.

"I can't believe it. I mean, you're here," Luther commented.

Five looked at his watch anxiously. "We've got eight minutes left."

"I just had the strangest dream," Klaus whimpered.

"Where are the others?" Five nearly yelled.

"We've got a minute left!" Luther slammed his fist onto the dumpster.

"What's going on, guys? Are we going somewhere?" Klaus hoarsely asked as Karina knelt beside him to check him.

"It was a simple task. It was a simple task!" Five ranted, pacing angrily. "All we had to do was be here. Didn't have to fight a giant sea monster, no. An army of mutants? Nein!"

"I can't believe this," Luther shook his head.

"It was handed to us on a silver platter!" Five continued.

"Could you just moan a little softer? My head is killing me," Klaus complained, sitting up with Karina's help.

"Listen to me, you useless puke bag, we just blew our chance to save the world!" Five yelled at him.

 The briefcase suddenly came to life with a charging noise.

"God damn it," Five scoffed.

"Shit," Luther muttered.

Five grabbed the briefcase and shouted as he chucked it into the air. Karina ducked as the briefcase got sucked off.

"We were that close. That close," she sighed.

~ * ~

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #tua #viktor hargreeves #aidan gallagher #tua season 2 #tua s2 #tua five #tua fanfic #tua fandom #number five #lila pitts

[mirageofthecrystal]

Delving back into Faiolan's past, some little questions about his time in Ul'dah.

As he was in exile did Faiolan do anything to disguise his identity, such as adopting a "stage name" for his role as a gladiator? Or was he confident that the inward-looking Holy See would have no interest or influence when it came to events in a corrupt desert kingdom countless malms from their borders?

Regardless of any attempts he may have made to disguise his true origins, presumably an Ishgardian elezen of noble bearing would have rather stood out amongst the ragged refugees populating the camps around Ul'dah? Especially given his willingness to challenge troublemakers and even stand up to oppressive Brass Blades. How was he viewed by the other refugees? Did any of them press him for his story, or were they too intimidated by this stern and intimidating figure to question him around the campfire?

From where did he obtain the additional food rations and resources which he shared with the more vulnerable refugees? Was this a surplus he received from his generous and appreciative (ahem) patrons or did he find other means to acquire them?

Was his motivation purely altruistic? Or was there an element of self-interest in his actions? Perhaps a desire to generate loyalty or merely to assert that, although he might be indentured into servitude on the sands of the arena, he remained master of his own fate outside of them?

And finally how did his experiences in Ul'dah change him? Was he forced to reconsider any previous assumptions? Did his experience of life as both noble and pauper alter his attitude towards class or social divisions? Or was he simply disheartened to find other lands as corrupt and unjust as his homeland?

I'm quite embarrassed to say I didn't think too much on the concealment of his identity. And while I think it unlikely that the Holy See would hunt him all the way to Ul'dah, and those who invested in him as a fighter in the coliseum would be unlikely to allow such interference, I think it's worth considering a slight retcon into exactly how he presented himself. Ultimately, I think the backstory of 'fallen noble of icy Ishgard, come to claim glory and riches to one day regain all that he's lost' would fit in right at home with some of the crazy narratives attached to gladiators and the like. They've all got colorful names and colorful tales, and I'm sure Faiolan would have not only adopted one of these false names, but his patrons would have embellished the very basics of his backstory to make it far more fanciful in order to inspire crowd interest. At the very least, in interactions with others outside the coliseum, he abandoned his house name, and only presented his full name on rare occasions.

At first, the other refugees were filled with mistrust. Not only because of rumors that Faiolan came from noble stock, but because of the isolationist policies of Ishgard meaning that in some way, their absence from Carteneau played a hand in fracturing Eorzea and plunging so many into destitution. It's one of those 'find somewhere to place the blame' scenarios where ultimately it doesn't make much sense, but the people need somewhere to direct their ire. Very few people spoke to him, even fewer made him feel welcome, and when he began fighting in the coliseum, even more were jealous that someone would be willing to risk gil to place him upon the stage of battle. They assumed he was flush with coins and was simply leeching off the refugees for everything they had, as a greedy little lordling would. He changed their minds, eventually, through his deeds if not his words.

The gil that he won from his fights, paltry as it was compared to the winnings of his patrons, he used to buy necessities for himself first, maintaining his equipment second, and the excess would go to feeding his fellow man. He often worked side-jobs, escorting caravans, intimidating merchants for other merchants, exterminating pests, anything he could do by his blade to drum up extra gil. He resorted to stealing on occasion as well, when he could get away with it, though he only stole from those whom he knew wouldn't miss a parcel of meat here and a few vials of medicine there. His patrons certainly did not compensate him generously, as they felt they were protecting him from execution at the hand of the Holy See and therefore should be paid for that service. They were vile, manipulative, and everything we've come to expect from the upper crust of Ul'dah. It also helped that from his time serving in the military back in Ishgard, he knew how to make a small amount of resources go a long way, especially when it came to the art of cooking. Faiolan is a bit of a culinarian, after all, and gained most of his trust from the refugees through a sort of 'soup kitchen' effort where he stretched out rations and filled their bellies with the best they could accomplish with the scant little they had.

Faiolan was never one to cling to his nobility. He would have preferred a life without all that obligation, where he could have sought out a life of adventure and excitement. But since that was not to be, Faiolan accepted his lot in life. Luckily for him, his beloved mentor and uncle was a man of extreme compassion and kindness, and truly believed in the plight of the lesser man. From him, Faiolan learned of the deep class divide in Ishgard, and they'd often walk the Brume together with Uncle Artemoux hearing the ails of the people. It was by his spear and those of his comrades that Ishgard was protected from the dragons, and people looked up to him. He'd buy them rounds of drink and hot meals at the Forgotten Knight, distribute blankets for the coldest of nights, and was truly a force for good. And even Faiolan's house, suffering in reputation compared to others, were a house of uplifting the people. They constantly reached out and performed charitable functions, seeing as the lady of the House had once been nothing more than a servant of nobles before her love swept her out of a life of servitude.

All of that is to establish Faiolan's desire to aid the downtrodden and the unfortunate, those whom he'd sworn to protect as a knight and that he could do some small services for even now as nothing, as nobody. His actions were entirely altruistic, simply wanting to give these people around him a better lot in life in any way that he could. He had no grand designs, no desire to show his masters that he still retained some power or piece of his old life. He did good for the sake of good, not for reward or recognition.

Faiolan never TRULY understood how the people of the Brume lived, despite seeing them live their lives of destitution. Being a refugee revealed to him their pains clearer than anything ever could. He learned the true ways of the world, how vileness and corruption reach long and far, and that in every land there are those who suffer for it. He learned stories from the refugees of how the Garleans had taken their homes, or how the destruction wrought by Dalamud's fall had robbed them of their livelihood. Faiolan gleaned the true face of Eorzea, and knew that Ishgard was no different than Ul'dah, or any other city-state, no matter how much they wished to set themselves as better than their contemporaries. It also bred in him the ability to do what needed to be done, something that was always only a whisper before becoming a roar. He was hardened in his heart, learned ruthlessness and cruelty for his enemies in the same time that compassion for his allies bloomed. It cast away preconceived notions of how the world existed, and ultimately set him upon a path of recklessness and darkness. It was in those days, crushed beneath the heel of Ul'dah's rich and powerful, that he first began to feel the whispering of a voice in his ear, though he would not understand its words until much, much later.

Thank you @mimble-sparklepudding, for yet another wonderful ask.

#my asks #ffxiv blogging #ffxiv crystal #ffxiv #ffxiv mateus #faiolan penderghast #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay

[isobelleposts]

Love and Drugs with 'Daisy Jones & The Six'

Who else still searched the band up on Spotify, knowing that nothing would show up? … I did

Cover of 'Daisy Jones & The Six' by Taylor Jenkins Reid

‘Daisy Jones’ is not my favorite but one of the most fun reads from Taylor Jenkins Reid. Trust me and the reviews on the cover when we say that this is a captivating and thrilling ride that you’re never compelled to put down until finished. The story starts quickly with an introduction of Daisy Jones, born in Los Angeles with an open gate to drugs, men, sex, and clubs. In contrast to Daisy’s hectic life, growing up earlier than people her age and sleeping with rockstars, the introduction is followed by the Dunne brothers, who form a rock band in 1954 Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Just like ‘The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo’, the author’s second book in the fictional world of Old Hollywood is so fast-paced and action-packed that it requires you to take a break to breathe and process all that has happened.

The cast of the upcoming Amazon Prime adaptation of 'Daisy Jones & The Six'

DAISY AND BILLY

I am not a fan of any form of cheating trope in media and books, but the story of Daisy Jones and Billy Dunne has a sense of boundary that was never crossed between the star-crossed lovers, or maybe it was just Camila’s stoicism that made me feel this way. The way they loved each other despite Billy’s marriage was portrayed in a way that you cannot totally hate either character but rather sympathize with them equally, most of all including Billy's wife, Camila.

Daisy: And I knew he wasn’t mine. He was hers

Page 310 of 'Daisy Jones & The Six'

Billy and Daisy aren’t two pieces of a puzzle that perfectly fit together but are the same shape, which, no matter how hard you try, will never interlock. Or in other words, just two sides of the same coin.

Daisy: Billy and I talked about rehab and what that would mean and he told me a little bit about what it would be like.

Page 292 of 'Daisy Jones & The Six'

I realized how much I loved Billy’s presence in Daisy’s life through this line alone, after suffering through the irritation that his character has brought me in previous pages. The contrast in Daisy's actions and how she's treated by other people compared to when she's with Billy is distinct and makes you wish that she's able to keep that presence in her life—though can't really argue the restraint.

1970s British-American rock band, Fleetwood Mac

JENKIN'S INSPIRATION

'Daisy Jones & The Six' is definitely the most humorous book by the author so far, in my opinion, and was read for the experience and thrill, like watching an exciting movie on a Saturday night, rather than something that sticks with you for a long time afterward. I am nothing but excited for the upcoming Amazon Prime miniseries adaptation of the uniquely structured book, and to finally hear the songs come to life.

"Then, when you add Fleetwood Mac into it--and my love for Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham--I felt like I just had to set it in the late seventies."

A Conversation with Taylor Jenkins Reid, page 360 of Ballantine Book's 'Daisy Jones & The Six'

Inspired by the 70s band Fleetwood Mac, ‘Daisy Jones & The Six’ is worth the read if you’re up for an easy run through of a thrilling and melodramatic story that makes you laugh and feel sorry at the same time.

(Click HERE for Writing Commissions)

by Isobelle Cruz, 26/05/2022

#daisy jones and the six #daisy jones #taylor jenkins reid #book review #historical fiction #70s rock #billy dunne #riley keough #sam claflin #suki waterhouse #amazon prime #booktok #tjr #contemporary literature

[bisexualsdeservebetter]

As far as the fetishizing and homophobia problem goes, it exists. With some women being obsessed with bl and failing to see that there's that. On the other side of the coin are people stretching the word "fetish" to the point where it encompasses basic sexual orientation. Fetishizing means mud to some extent because the word has been worn out like an old cow giving nothing but powdered milk in a dust storm. There's something to be said about gender roles being expressed in bl compared to gl/yuri. Bringing up seme and uke (top/bottom) in certain circles will give older fans whiplash. Fixating on who would be the top or bottom in the relationship. In some ways, I don't think it's left. It's another reason why people don't tend to like bl fan girls, as that's something lumped in with the stereotype. As I had seen it back then, there weren't nearly as many resources or voices to draw reference from saying "hey...maybe back up a bit and try not to impose what you see onto real people?" as we do now. There were a lot of allies to come out of it once maturing was done. Maybe that anon might feel more freer with bl than anything with girls...in which case, questions might need to be asked and introspection made. Perhaps they feel as though there's a certain amount of expression that can't be done with gals as it can for guys? Haven't found any other media they've been able to resonate with? I remember coming across a sentiment years back of gals not quite being able to relate to female characters that are supposed to be made with girls in mind, choosing to go with the male characters. When I've spoken with younger bl fans, sometimes lines of reasoning like that come up. They'd gravitate towards bl as they felt it had more to offer them, too. It's...a lot of history, and I haven't been succinct as I'd like to be. I apologize. 😅I think I can see where she's coming from.

I did misunderstand what the previous anon was saying, she helpfully clarified things.

Again I'm not saying that women enjoying mlm media are inherently bad for it, or that it is inherently fetishizing. It's just when it becomes an obsession of sorts.

I think a considerable part of the problem is that a lot of popular mlm stories are.. not written by mlm, and a lot of popular media containing wlw is also not written by wlw, like The Witcher. It has plenty of bisexual women, but they're fetishized to hell and back. It seems like a lot of the time mlm and wlw are treated both like they're not on the same level as hetero relationships, or like their only value is non mlm/wlw fans thinking that 2 men or 2 women is hot and not assigning value to them beyond being sex objects.