#rock paper cynic

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

#facebook #rock paper cynic #robot museum #human history #robot #robots #the robot uprising #peter chiykowski #lmao #lol #humans #human #captcha #captcha solving #iam not a robot

[clever-and-unique-name]

I was driving for work and stopped at a red light behind a school bus. The teenage boys in the back were looking back at me and (what I interpreted as) jeering, as teenage boys do.

One of them made a fist and pumped it up and down in the air, which--in my already-cynical state--I initially interpreted as pantomiming jacking off.

But then he made a few more hand gestures and I realized, Oh. He just wants to play rock-paper-scissors with me

We played one round and I lost, and then he gestured excitedly again "Best two out of three!"

...so I made a big show of putting my coffee down and taking it seriously, we ended up going 6 or 7 rounds because we kept choosing the same play, and I eventually lost again and mimed tipping my hat to him and other silly defeated gestures while his buddies lost their minds congratulating him.

And then the light turned green, and we drove our separate ways, all of us grinning.

It was such a little thing. It was so silly. But it made me so ridiculously happy to be part of.

#personal

[inknopewetrust]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 [𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮] [𝒔𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌]

summary: the colors of life change with time, but the music that narrates it lives on forever in one, standstill moment of the 1990s where success and passion came tumbling down. Years later, the story is declassified.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: minors dni (18+), this is based off of fleetwood mac/daisy jones and the six so imagine mid-80s and 90s rock scene, language, lil bit a spice, a whole lotta angst, enemies to lovers to enemies to…

In a world where words meant so much, it was difficult to find them at a time where they were needed.

The cool wire weaved against your skin. Its path crawling like a snake of retrospection from the bottom of your chair to your chest. There was a pebble of sweat threatening to spill from the top of your hairline in the hot California sun which made you think:

"Why the fuck did I ever move out of Indiana?"

But if you closed your eyes, you could recall why. A sickening, thunderous roar of the crowd–you could still hear it now. Somewhere, thumping in the back of your mind as their chants filled a space that breathed a new life within you as the another was dying.

An echo chamber of the taste of metal against lips; the white knuckle grip that still threatened to slip from your grasp.

The woman who sat across from you had a plastic smile on her lips. For her, it was nothing more than a job. An exploitive adventure where you'd be sticking headlines and messages across platforms for weeks to come because of this tell-all documentary.

"When did you know?"

Against cynicism the inevitable hardness of the culture you had immersed yourself in at one time had risen again and the attitude that rose promised a truthful reflection of your experience.

On the floor beside the mics battery pack, a half smoked carton of cigarettes met a glazed palm and the woman watched as a perfectly rolled stick land between two mauve lips. As the flame sparked, your eyes darted to hers.

"Know what?" you muttered between the smoke.

“When it was finally over?”

You could feel the breath being sucked out of your soul. The shudder radiating like a shutter letting rain inside of the home in the canyon; kissing the very center of a heartbeat that stopped at the sight of a pair of eyes, shoes peaking through a doorway.

The cigarette burned between your fingers. Ticking away like a bomb with scorching red embers fighting its casing.

“The Album was the best and worst thing to ever happen to any of us… that sounds ridiculous,” you scoffed, shaking your head and the woman quirked her head.

“It sounds ridiculous that something so magical, something so brilliant, can make those who built it feel small. It put us in a fishbowl and it took every last drop from our cup before it dried up and cracked under the heat… that's when I knew it was over."

She shifted in her seat, readjusting the papers to organize her thoughts. You imagined there was no sounder way of stating it. It was the truth, frank, and to the point but something the rest of them negated to realize or speak into words.

But she shook her head. “Yes, the band… but what of the relationships?”

“None of us had known about Steve and Nancy, Robin and Vickie had barely interacted until their writing began and by the end… well you can read plenty of articles about the end of it all.”

You drew from the cigarette again. Smoke filling the air around you like a mist; the woman kept digging.

“And Eddie and yourself?”

“Well…”

That heart-skipping beat never left. Laurel Canyon was so far away, the studio was a memory, and the stage was a phantom piece of your imagination yet the simple mention of a name so far removed was enough to make time stand still.

Somewhere, a young woman frozen and left wondering the "what if" of a life not shrouded by fanatics and the thrumming of a guitar. Somewhere, lost in the violence of a summer and the shattered glass of a heart left on a stoop, that girl remained inside.

“It was always complicated.”

“So,” she shrugged at you as if the conversation was nothing more than such. It wasn’t as though she was here to get all the details of every part of a life that had already played out in public if people had only been paying attention.

It wasn’t as though she was cracking open a mountain full of jeweled memories that had crystalized themselves in the past.

“When did it all go wrong?”

Feeling the sting of the camera focus on your face, there were two responses to this question that many had already answered before you:

"When did it all go wrong?" You lamented to yourself.

When did you know it was over? When did it all go wrong?

The woman's eyes glistened in excitement. Her story was unraveling before her. You took a drag again.

Fuck. You thought to yourself.

And the film began to play.

A/n: I'm excited to get back in the writing game - especially with Eddie. Let me know your early thoughts! Yay, nay, slay?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fem #eddie munson x female reader #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson x #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #x reader #fanfic #x female reader #joseph quinn #eddie x reader #eddie x you

[indouloureux]

toxic!eddie taking reader’s virginity ? <3

cw: dubcon?? first time, kind of a mean!dom eddie, praise kink, degradation (use of whore, slut), dacryphilia, unprotected sex, sadist!eddie. fem!reader

— i don't really know how toxic!eddie works but i tried my best 😭 this is just him being mean. thank you for requesting!

when eddie met you—in all your angelic, demure glory—the devil in his mind had whispered in his ear to lure you into his sybaritic expeditions.

and he obeyed immediately.

you met his cynical eyes from across the room; the curiosity making you pull a brick from the wall he'd built up. it felt like staring right into a trap, but naivety had fooled you into thinking it was a bird in need of aid.

eddie had taken it slow. mustering up all the confidence given to him, the fire in his boldness came from the lake of hellfire; smoldering and taunting, elegant in its ornery roars.

and you'd been the angel with a golden halo above your hair, clad in a pure white dress that tickled his exposed knees. tight around you, enough to accentuate your breasts that makes him goggle and drool like a virgin.

but he wasn't the virgin now, wasn't he?

he had no good intentions, that's for sure. he wanted to corrupt you—he wanted to take everything of you. teach you the ways of sin, pour black tar all over your white dress to show how much you've changed under his influence. he wanted to break the golden halo in half, carve it into pointy horns and stab them on your head.

and when all was done, he'd pretend you didn't exist. it was just...hedonistic pursuits.

you started as friends. he'd asked if you could tutor, and you did. every friday after school. until you'd gathered enough confidence to talk to him in the crowded hallway and he just knew he's gotten the key to split you open.

literally.

now that you're pinned beneath him. bra and panties ripped like a piece of paper, his lips around your hardened nipples as he suckles and bites like a hungered infant. you grind up to him, throwing your head back, his fingers deep inside your tight cunt he just knew you'd feel better wrapped around his cock.

"gonna cum for me, angel?" he coos, moving his fingers faster, his fingertips pressing hard against your gummy walls you feel like it'll bruise. you nod. "what'd i say about answering?"

you pant. "i-"

eddie fucks his hand in, knuckle deep. too deep that his hand might split in half. and you yell in the small space of his bedroom. "what did i say, whore?"

"that i use my words," tears sting your eyes, brimming at the edges. "eddie, please. i'm—" the rock on your navel gets heavier, feeling like something would break. "i feel like i'm gonna pee."

he chuckles. "that just means you're gonna cum, sweetheart."

you cum within seconds. for the first time in your life. and eddie knew this; he'll take pride of it, too. being the first person to ever bring you your first orgasm. he feels your thick, white substance coat the length of his long fingers, your moans hindering into short sobs that he shushes with hard bites around your neck.

"jesus christ," he moans when he pulls his fingers out, your seed whiter than his opal skin. you watch as he puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking your cum and juices and revels in its sweetness. "fuck. you taste amazing."

in less than ten seconds he rips his own underwear out, his cock sprung out, pink swollen tip slamming on his happy trail and it makes you gawk. "is it gonna hurt?"

"oh baby," he pouts, hovering over you and grinds the base of his dick against your sensitive folds. "it's gonna hurt a lot,"

you whimper and he almost cums. just the thought of you being in pain, or even just a sliver, from his big cock boosts his ego a bit.

eddie takes his cock in his hand, slapping the tip on your swollen clit that makes you jolt beneath his tight clutch on your waist. until he pushes it in.

mewling, you arch your back, shoving your tits in eddie's face and it hurts. it's the type of hurt that tiptoes the wall between pleasure and pain, hands raised to balance itself. but it makes you cry, and it makes eddie push himself to the hilt.

"oh, yeah," he laughs out a moan. "you're so tight, (y/n). i've always had a thing for virgin pussies who act like sluts after i split them open. make their holes so big people will think they were never a virgin."

he wraps your leg around his waist, thrusting hard. and you hadn't even adjusted properly when he did so. it hurt, your walls burning in its sensitivity. eddie's hand lands down to your ass, a hard smack that rings around the room along with his grunts and your sobs.

"a-ah, eddie," you scratch on his back. "slow- slow d-down,"

"you can take it," he practically growls, removing the hand beneath your knee to take both your hands from his back and pin them above you, slamming it on his pillows. "take it like a good, little slut baby. oooohh– see. look how well you're taking me."

it's like he's pushing the fires of hell inside you to diminish all the angels that live inside you. his thrusts are hard, fast and animalistic that tears coat your cheeks. eddie licks the salty tears away, chuckling when he sucks on the spot beneath your ear to your jawline.

"such a good girl," his balls slap against your ass, a loud applauding like you're in a play for all the souls burning in hell to see. "you're my angel, aren't you?"

all you do is moan and it angers him the slightest.

he punishes you with a hard thrust. "say it."

"i'm—" you swallow. "i'm your angel. your angel, eddie. your slutty little angel."

eddie feels like a king. "atta girl,"

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction

[viburnt]

At that point, I feel the only option is to just leave without notice after several attempts to talk to him. send the divorce papers through his secretary, bet that’s only way to get him to pay attention. IT would be DISAPPOINTING HE doesn’t noticed until like a day after or more 💀😭

Rina, RINA, YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS! I'm already working on the divorce headcanons but I like this so much I'll throw in a couple about that brief time before you actually serve him papers.

The time before you resolve a divorce is the best course of action is short; it almost feels right to say it, even if your heart aches. You look back at all those empty years being by Izuku's side, but you can't find a memory of him standing with you. It felt like a silent movie where you'd been acting the role of the ideal wife, pretending to be happy for the cameras, not allowed to say a thing.

Sadly, being married to Izuku isolated you a lot. Your friends and family had distanced themselves from you because you never had time to visit or hang out, not to mention they'd found the news reporters and the cameras too bothersome to even dare to approach you. So with the little strength you had left, you had to sort out this whole situation by yourself. One benefit of being alone most of the time was that your soon-to-be ex couldn't quite tell you were scheming to leave him.

You began searching for places to rent, looking for jobs that offered home-office, and even checking the finances. Most of the things around the house were under Izuku's name, and you didn't want anything from him. Specially not when it would entertain more gossips or give people the wrong impression.

Izuku would come home late or not at all, too tired to even notice half of your wardrobe was gone, and that you spent a lot of time outside the house. He'd just kiss you goodnight and sleep, blissfully ignorant of the reality. You'd slip away from him and crash on the couch, trying to detach your heart from the feelings you still sheltered for him.

Part of you wished he would notice the way you were drifting apart, the way you crumbled in a marriage built of empty expectations and false promises. It was wishful thinking, a pipe dream that could never become true. Izuku had caught you between a rock and a hard place, and he'd only learn that after the damage was visible.

When you are finally ready for the legal battle, you send the papers to Izuku's office. His secretary passes them to him, probably thinking it's just more paperwork, and in the same way his secretary did, Izuku simply assumed it was more work to do. Midoriya placed the yellow envelope on top of a stack of pending documents, deciding to check them later.

The face of realization he has once he finally reads the contents of said envelope is almost priceless. 2 days had those documents waited for his eyes to read, 2 full fucking days to notice you were asking for a divorce. He was hysterical, making phone calls and sending texts to no avail; you weren't answering, and you weren't even living in that house at that point. He felt like an idiot, and that was only the beginning of the end.

'The number you're trying to reach is currently unavailable, please try later to-'

"Ugh, just answer dammit!" Izuku yelled, throwing his phone to the wall in desperation. He had rushed out of his office to try and find you, just then noticing the emptiness of the things you'd taken with you. The only thing you left behind was your wedding ring, standing cynically on the bedside table along with the framed photo of your wedding day. Tears rolled down his freckled cheeks, not being able to grasp reality. You were really leaving him, and his stupid ass was so busy to even notice it.

"I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry..." He sobbed in the silence of his bedroom, your perfume haunting him as he held your pillow.

Izuku had fucked up bad.

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha ask #we are getting that divorce ladies

[cloveswifey]

Sewer

Pairings: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of drowning, Gun

Type: Angst

Words: 2155

My friends and I were eyewitnesses to a murder last night. Specifically, we saw Ward, the perpetrator, kill Gavin, a pilot, over a conflict that arose from blackmail. Gavin had possession of the gun that Rafe used to kill Peterkin, and was using it to extort Ward. Unfortunately, the altercation resulted in Gavin being shot in the chest.

Although Pope had recorded the incident, the camera was accidentally destroyed while we were making our escape. When we tried to report the murder to Shoupe, the new sheriff, he did not believe our story.

Our only chance of proving Ward's guilt lies in retrieving the murder weapon, which was discarded in a sewer drain.

I addressed my boyfriend who stood a short distance away, asking what our next move should be. "So, do you have a plan?"

JJ responded, "Since we are currently at the northern drain, the gun must have been washed down into the gully. Therefore, if the gun went down this drain, it would have ended up...somewhere amongst this trash." He looked at me as he finished his sentence.

I glanced down at the disgusting rubbish floating in the water, and completed his thought, "Somewhere among this mess?"

"Yeah..." JJ replied hastily.

I commented on the unhygienic sight before me as JJ and Pope started collecting the garbage. "That's disgusting," I remarked.

Upon noticing the plastic waste scattered in the water, Kiara added, "People who use plastic should be shot."

JJ, on the other hand, had a different opinion. "Okay, personally, I love plastic. Use it every day. Love that stuff," he claimed, smiling up at Kiara as he cleaned the area.

I cautioned him, "Don't piss her off." JJ shrugged off my warning, rolling his eyes.

Kiara, an ardent environmentalist, retorted, "Well, I hope you recycle it and don't let it flush into the ocean." We all knew her stance on plastic and how vocal she could be about it, so we chose not to engage with her about 'saving the world.'

Pope, being the considerate partner he is, showed Kiara the trash bags he had brought along. "Did you just proactively protect the environment?" she asked him incredulously, a smile spreading across her face.

They shared a look that revealed their mutual attraction, making JJ and me raise our eyebrows. At this point, it was blatant that the two of them liked each other, and they weren't trying to hide it anymore.

JJ made an announcement, "So, while you two do your...thing, Y/n and I are going to make out, alright?" He wrapped his arms around my waist and smirked.

"Sounds good to me," I replied, resting my hands on his shoulders. We leaned in towards each other, closing our eyes in anticipation.

However, our romantic moment was cut short when Pope abruptly threw a roll of trash bags at our heads, jolting us out of our daze.

"Get back to work," he instructed us sternly, causing both of us to roll our eyes in annoyance.

"Later?" I suggested, pantomiming firing finger guns at JJ as I pulled away from him.

"Later," JJ confirmed, giving me a flirty wink before we resumed cleaning up the area.

We completed the arduous task of clearing the litter that had washed out through the drain within half an hour. Unfortunately, we had no luck locating the gun.

"Well, that was a lot of fun," JJ said cynically as he set down the last bag of trash.

Pope speculated, "If it's not in this trash, then it must be in the storm drain." We all turned to look at the large gated opening of the drain.

JJ nodded and affirmed, "It's in the drain."

I rolled my eyes, thinking why does this always happen to us? We must really have a streak of bad luck.

But my boyfriend, quick as ever, pulled out his backpack and retrieved a crowbar, saying, "Good thing I brought the crow."

As both boys removed the gate blocking the drain, Kiara questioned, "So are we gonna do like Rock Paper Scissors?"

"No," the two boys quickly shut down.

I suggested, "How about we decide alphabetically?" I looked at Kiara and shrugged my shoulders. "Or we could let the oldest one go first?"

JJ stated dramatically, "In the sewer, there's this worm you get when you're down there. It gets in your blood and it has to come out your pecker. So that's a hard pass for me." His words made me purse my lips and give him a weird look.

Pope agreed, "Yeah, that's a no for me," as he stepped away from the storm drain.

Realizing why the two boys didn't want to do it, I spoke and nodded my head with a smile, "Oh, I see what's going on here. You guys are scared."

"No, I'm not!" JJ denied, shaking his head in defense.

"It's just the pecker thing for me," Pope stated, causing both Kiara and me to roll our eyes.

As I stood between the two boys, I laughed and teased, "You're scared and it's kinda cute, guys."

"No-" JJ began to protest.

"You should've just led with that," Kiara cut him off, shaking her head as we both chuckled.

"I'm not scared, it's just that... I'm too big to fit in there," JJ claimed, using his size as an excuse and pointing at the drain.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll do it," I stated, putting my hands up. After all, someone had to go in for John B, right?

"Watch and learn, pussies," I pointed at JJ and Pope, before getting down on all fours to crawl into the tunnel.

As I began to crawl through the small tunnel, JJ's voice echoed through it, "Be careful!"

"I'll be so careful!" I responded sarcastically, dragging on the "so" with a small giggle, swatting at spider webs and other sewage items.

"Holler if you need anything! We'll... uh, holler back," JJ shouted into the drain, earning an eye roll from me.

"Thanks, JJ, that's really helpful," I muttered.

As I continued to crawl through the small place, it somewhat triggered my claustrophobia. I tried to breathe through my mouth since the smell was horrific and burning my nose. I repeatedly told myself that this was for John B and Sarah to keep myself going, as there was no way I would be doing something like this if it wasn't for them.

"Have you found anything yet, y/n?" Pope asked while his voice resonated, reverberating off the walls.

"Not yet," I responded, glancing around the drain.

"Stay focused, baby," JJ encouraged me while I reached the end of the tunnel only to end up in a basin filled with disgusting sewer drainage.

The water appeared greenish and murky due to the abundance of trash and debris littering it. The smell was unbearable, and I had never experienced such an odious odor before.

I tentatively put my hand in the foul water, searching for any object that resembled a gun.

Out of nowhere, a sudden sensation brushed against my hand, causing me to flinch uncontrollably.

"I think I found something!" I exclaimed, hoping that the pogues could hear me from the distance I had traveled.

"Is it the gun?" I heard one of them shout back.

I reached for the object that had brushed against my hand, pulling it up to the surface of the water. However, to my surprise, it was not the gun but something that closely resembled a lifeless human body.

"Guys! There's a corpse in here!" I hollered, quickly recoiling from it. At that instant, the only thought that came to my mind was that the dead body might be Gavin's. It was possible that Ward had disposed of his body into the sewer.

"What is it? Is it Gavin?" JJ's voice echoed off the walls as he spoke, his fear apparent in his tone. "Did you find Gavin?"

"I don't know!" I yelled, feeling more and more freaked as I backed away from the corpse.

All of a sudden, a sound caught my attention. It was the sound of water rapidly gushing out. I turned around to see a tunnel where water was flowing into the bowl-shaped compartment where I was present.

"Guys, the water!" I yelled, well aware that the water should not have been filling the space yet.

"Y/n, get out of there immediately!" Kiara shouted, her voice laced with urgency.

As I looked towards the tunnel I had previously traversed, I realized that the water level had risen to half its height, making it impossible for me to return the way I had come.

"I don't have time!" I screeched, spinning around to take a glance at my surroundings. The only possible exit route was the ladder above me. Without wasting any more time, I started climbing up the ladder, but the water kept rising steadily and quickly.

As I reached the top, I pushed as hard as I could, hoping to escape, but the cap was unyielding. It was sealed tight. In despair, I looked down at the water, which had now reached up to my waist level when I noticed something floating in the water. I grabbed it and realized that it was the very same gun that was used to kill Peterkin and Gavin. Without a second thought, I tucked it into my waistband, making sure it was secure and wouldn't drop.

With all my might, I pushed against the gate blocking my only escape route as I desperately struggled not to drown. "JJ! Pope! Kie! Help me!" I yelled through the narrow gaps in the gate, hoping someone would hear me.

As panic started to set in, I heard my boyfriend's voice booming nearby, followed by the sound of heavy boots. "I'm coming, baby, I'm coming!" he shouted.

Relieved, I wiggled my fingers through the gaps in the gate, hoping JJ and Pope could see and find me. Almost immediately, they were by my side, kneeling to lift the gate.

"JJ, please, hurry!" I whimpered, tears streaming down my face as the water reached my neck.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll get you out," JJ reassured me as he and Pope struggled to lift the gate. Meanwhile, Kiara panicked and urged them to hurry.

As soon as the blonde realized that the gate was sealed shut, he whipped out his pocket knife and started chiselling at the edges with all his might. The air was running out, and fear surged through me as I struggled to keep my face out of the water.

Just then, the two pogue boys sprang into action, pulling on the gate with every ounce of strength they possessed. Their muscles bulged, and their veins popped out as they strained and grunted in frustration.

As the water level continued to rise, JJ's voice boomed out, "Pope, come on!" Panic set in as the water began to flow out of the drain, and I could feel my head slipping under the water.

Just in the nick of time, they managed to remove the lid and shifted it away, granting my release. I clutched the rim and heaved my torso out of the water, gasping for air.

"I've got you, baby," JJ offered, lending his hand as I coughed and breathed heavily, expelling the foul water that had seeped into my lungs.

"Take your time and let it all out," he advised, out of breath himself, patting my back and helping me clear my throat.

"You good?" Pope asked once I had finally stopped panting and was now calming down. I held up my hand, giving him a thumbs up to show that I was fine.

"Are you alright?" I asked JJ, gazing up at him as he regained his composure.

"Me?" he questioned in bewilderment.

"You seemed scared out of your wits," I chuckled, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I stood up.

"You were drowning, of course, I was petrified!" he grumbled, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. I let out a laugh before planting a tender kiss on his cheek.

"God, You smell like absolute shit" he scrunched up his nose before fake gagging.

"Looks like the scent is rubbing off on you," I retorted, playfully pushing his chest.

Out of nowhere, Pope asked, "Did you find the gun?" I turned to face him.

"The gun? Oh, I don't think so, but I did find this," I responded, holding up the weapon that I had been carrying in my shorts' waistband.

"Ah-ha! That's my girl!" JJ praised, taking the gun from me and wrapping it in his bandana. Pope and Kiara cheered and hugged me.

"Wow, you really do stink," Kiara remarked, taking a step back and covering her nose, which made all of us laugh.

#cloveswifey #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron imagine #sarah cameron #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank #sarah cameron imagine #rafe cameron #pope heyward #john b routledge #kiara carrera #outer banks #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks #obx #obx3 #obx cast #obx smut #obxhub #jj obx #obx season 3 #obx imagine #obx masterlist #amber freeman

[1americanconservative]

Victor Davis Hanson

@VDHanson

President Biden—the Matter Is Not  Over, Not Now, Not Ever President Biden Thursday night hit rock bottom as he gave a mean-spirited distortion of the special counsel’s report. And in the process, Biden further embarrassed himself, his toady press, and the country at large. In sum, the press conference disintegrated into an embarrassing free-for-all. Note the following: 1. To prove that he is cognizant, and does not believe that some dead European leaders are still alive, Biden assured us that President el-Sisi of Egypt was actually the President of Mexico, and almost seemed to believe that the Gaza corridor to Egypt was on our southern border. The more he talked, the more he confirmed Hur’s conclusions. 2. Biden lost his temper and finally lashed out at the special counsel who all but ruined his own reputation by straining to find any reason not to indict a sitting president. Biden should have thanked him for using the mentally incompetent defense to keep a sitting president out of jail. 3. Weirdly, the usually comatose, obsequious White House press finally woke up Thursday night. It was embarrassing that the jig is up and sycophants want to reboot as journalists before they are utterly discredited for participating in one of the great farces of the age: namely, Joe Biden was never mentally fit and was used as an empty vessel and a supposedly moderate veneer for his hard-left controllers—the Obamas, the Bernie Sanders/Elizabeth Warren wing, and the Squad sorts. The con worked for three years but tonight it started to fall apart. 4. The media understands the self-created fix the Democrats are now in: Biden is either cognizant and thus according to the prosecutor likely guilty of violating national security laws, or he is cognitively challenged and therefore unfit to continue his presidency. Take your pick—dangerously demented or guilty of violating his nation’s national security laws? Or both? 5. Otherwise, Biden gave a very brief but characteristically disingenuous defense of his violations of the law, with his old ritual of trashing Trump. In fact, the Biden and Trump cases are as different as they are similar: Mar-a-Lago is a far more secure location than Biden’s garage; Biden had no prerogative to declassify documents unlike President Trump; Biden took out the files for over a decade, Trump for less than two years; It was not Biden’s civic virtue that led to disclosure of the files, but the Biden Justice Department’s effort to turn a bureaucratic/civil dispute over classified presidential papers into a criminal indictment of Trump. That move prompted a cynical preemptive effort to avoid the charge of hypocrisy, given inevitably Biden's years-long violations would then logically come to light. 6. Biden flat-out lied about the Hur report. It did repeatedly document that Biden was mentally challenged; it said unequivocally that Biden willfully knew he was breaking the law by removing classified documents; and it noted specifically that the Afghan materials were in fact classified as “top secret”. Biden is a pathological prevaricator and lied every time he referenced the Hur report. 7. Screaming, insulting, blaming staff, claiming he had to focus on presidential business, self-righteous—all that scapegoating only further convinced the country that the Biden classified files scandal is not over. It is a spark to a fire that is about to burn out of control. God save us all.

[scarahours]

𝐅#𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃! [17 at her mercy]

Ei's words played on and on in his head – like a broken record. It was irritating, she was irritating. But above all it was absolutely more irritating to know that she was right. He had made a promise, and he was too prideful to go back on his words. What's said is said, and what's done is done.

CRACK

The phone breaks from under the pressure of Scaramouche's grip. He hadn't noticed that he'd been holding onto it so tightly from agitation.

He sighs, flinging the gadget away to some corner of the room before resting atop his bed. He had bottled up so many emotions to this point that he could no longer be bothered to express them. Emotion gets in the way of success, is what he'd been taught from a young age.

Ironically enough, they were right.

Maybe if he hadn't been so hung up over you he'd be somewhere higher now, away from university. Rocking his dark swivel chair without a care in the world, it would simply just be him and his neverending pile of paperworks to go through. Every. Single. Day.

Maybe that day, if he didn't confess to you you would both still have the same friendship as you once did in the past. But he'd stay miserable, never coming to terms with his own feelings, ignoring and pushing all his problems away. It wasn't healthy, sure. But if he could go back in time, he would've stayed quiet after all. Silently drowning himself in a pitiful pool full of bitter, one-sided love. Scaramouche was ready to give up his own world for you, and that was saying something – coming from the same selfish, cynical, and overly prideful prick who bowed to no one's whim.

Who knew that love was all it took for someone to make their home inside his stricken little heart?

Meeting you came by like a storm. It was abrupt and out of the blue, unlike the very calculated moves he'd have prepared a day prior before putting them into action. But he wasn't complaining. You suddenly approached him at the park, in the same swing set where it all began. You sat beside the empty seat while slowly pushing yourself up and down – and then you spoke, brazenly, noticing the far and long gaze he held. Like he was the only person left in the world, and he was seeing no one else. He felt that surely, nobody could come to truly understand his complexity. A human being who acted more like a lifeless doll, with a one track heart and mind. As powerless as he was, and as woeful – he could only abide by his family's standards. For Scaramouche would fear everyday that he will no longer have a place to call home.

"You're not okay, are you?" It was a simple question. You don't look at him, but his silence is enough for an answer.

Kunikuzushi realizes then and there that it truly has been a long time since he's lost himself. And for it to be pointed out by a mere stranger he's met for no longer than five minutes? How pathetic, it seemed like you knew him more than he knew himself now. Or maybe to some extent you were just like him, feeling miserable and alone from the amount of burden you carried.

He, who was in fear of failure and disappointment – and you, who were in fear of being cast aside by the person you both loved. Two people finding each other at the lowest points of their lives.

Somewhere deep down he still blames himself for what happened.

A knock on his door interrupts him from his intrusive thoughts. It was quickly followed by a voice, "Kuni, are you in here?"

What were you out of all people doing here now?

Just great. He clicks his tongue before walking over to the door, peering his eye through the small peephole. He spots a paper bag in your left hand and two drinks on your right.

He shakes his head a little, he'd already told you that he was alright and was still full from breakfast — but the truth is, he hasn't even eaten a single thing yet. He can't help but smile.

In times like these he is not Scaramouche to you, but simply Kunikuzushi. And to him, you will always be [name]. The only ever woman whom he'll let inside his heart.

— I'll try for a double update

TAGLIST: @crowbird @whats-humanity-lol @nejibot @mcryv @elitestar @skaramush @yaefics @ferumie @salty-brocolini @kayleigh-reuthlr @aequha @midoriapologist @meowlumi @yay-its-tj @mikazukiwrites @ryomenswife @elysiasbae @plantbasedmagic @slvdsjjk @estelwrld @dollpoetwriting @elyionaa @rizakari @c0nn0rv8 @jiminscarmex @spookyrule @bubblyclouds @sunizome @thenightsflower @m00nie-m00 @hecatve @ecselisse @llghtsnoww @harupiie

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

PREV | NEXT | MASTERLIST

#genshin smau #genshin fic #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche fanfic

[blackgirlcinephiles]

Warning: Long post

Regarding Keke Palmer and the colorism conversation…

I feel like people are never entirely honest with themselves about how colorism functions not just in Hollywood, but in all facets of life in the US.

Keke Palmer has had an objectively successful career with a VERY impressive resume to her name.

And Zendaya is an objectively talented actress who is deserving of all of her accolades.

But to me, the conversation around colorism, like with racism, has never been about capability or achievement. It’s about opportunity. Which individuals among us are given the opportunity, the visibility, the push that will send them to bigger heights, regardless of talent?

It’s about how skin color and other physical features shape the type of treatment we receive in society. Everything from length of prison sentences to experiences in the dating market are shaped by colorism. There are several studies that prove this and provide deeper context, just look it up.

And I don’t say this to make anyone feel bad or push a cynical narrative about the possibilities available for darker skinned people, but I seriously want us to be real and honest about the society we live in and how shit plays out.

There’s a reason Viola Davis was called “less classically beautiful” while Halle Berry was once named People’s Most Beautiful Woman.

Again, these are both gorgeous, talented Black women who have given us so much in their careers. Who have both had to face obstacles due the fact of their Blackness. But let’s be honest, colorism & featurism have also had a hand in shaping the trajectories of their careers and the type of opportunities/roles they received.

Viola Davis has spoken at length in several interviews about how transformative an opportunity like HTGAWM was for her. And mind you, it was an opportunity created by another Black woman, our beloved Ms. Shonda Rhimes.

Over the last few years, we’ve seen Keke Palmer’s popularity and recognition grow beyond the Black community due to the wonderful memes and pop culture moments she has given us, often during her personal interviews and hosting gigs.

And Nope, is her first big, mainstream, feature role in her adulthood. An opportunity created for her by another beloved Black creative, Jordan Peele.

The reason I’m emphasizing opportunity and the creation of opportunity is because I already know of three other Black creatives at the decision making level who have said they had to fight for the presence of their dark skinned characters.

Mara Brock Akil did a panel where she said she had to fight for Jill Marie Jones’ place on Girlfriends.

Gina Prince Blythewood said she had to call out her producers after several attempts to diminish Kiki Layne’s character in The Old Guard.

Chris Rock said he had to fight for Tichina Arnold to play his mother on Everybody Hates Chris. A role, which I might add, made her wildly famous in Brazil for being one of the few positive representations of dark skinned Black women in Brazilian television.

In all of these examples, it is Black creatives in decision making roles making opportunities for their dark-skinned talent specifically.

It’s not about Jill Marie Jones, Tichina Arnold, or Kiki Layne being less talented, or less accomplished, or less personally satisfied with their career trajectories. It’s about fewer opportunities being there because mainstream Hollywood still has a paper bag test for Black women.

It’s because the Black actresses often deemed palatable enough to sell to/pull in mainstream audiences often look like Halle Berry or, in this conversation, Zendaya. Who is both fair skinned and modelesque in stature. Zendaya herself has commented on being Hollywood’s “acceptable Black girl.”

It’s not a coincidence, as someone on twitter pointed out, that Zendaya has 149 million followers while Keke has just reached 11 million. That’s the difference in their mainstream popularity. That is what is influencing the opportunities that come to them.

Because let’s also get into how casting directors are also checking the social media stats of their actors nowadays. Bigger engagement on social media means bigger potential interest from audiences. And we should already know by now how colorism and featurism works for Black people on social media. We should all know that, right?

Acknowledging these things and having these conversations, does nothing to take away from the talents or achievements of any of these actors. Yet people always seem to act like it does, which is why people get defensive, and colorism conversation never actually goes anywhere.

Two things can be true at once. Zendaya is an objectively talented actress who has an incredibly promising career ahead of her. And she has also likely benefitted from colorism and featurism in her career trajectory.

Keke Palmer is an incredibly talented entertainer with a LONG and enviable resume. And #Nope is her breakout leading role in a mainstream blockbuster as an adult, and colorism/anti-Blackness may be a reason why this opportunity came to her later in her career by comparison.

If we can’t be honest about colorism and how it works, then we can’t call it out when we see it happen, we can’t hold folks accountable and nothing will ever change.

Colorism, like racism, like all -isms, is always happening, so there will never be a time where we shouldn’t talk about it. Where it isn’t at least a possible factor at play. And these discussions don’t have to mean that we’re putting anyone down or pitting anyone against each other.

It’s about knowing better so that we can do better.

#keke palmer #zendaya #colorism #black actresses #black women in hollywood #discussion post #long post #i didnt mean for this to be so long #but I couldnt help chiming in bc it feels like people keep missing the point #lets be real with each other here

[kvetchlandia]

Harold Chapman     Allen Ginsberg in the Beat Hotel, Rue Git-Le Coeur Paris,    1956 

I

In the depths of the Greyhound Terminal sitting dumbly on a baggage truck looking at the sky waiting for the Los Angeles Express to depart worrying about eternity over the Post Office roof in the night-time red downtown heaven staring through my eyeglasses I realized shuddering these thoughts were not eternity, nor the poverty of our lives, irritable baggage clerks, nor the millions of weeping relatives surrounding the buses waving goodbye, nor other millions of the poor rushing around from city to city to see their loved ones, nor an indian dead with fright talking to a huge cop by the Coke machine, nor this trembling old lady with a cane taking the last trip of her life, nor the red-capped cynical porter collecting his quar- ters and smiling over the smashed baggage, nor me looking around at the horrible dream, nor mustached negro Operating Clerk named Spade, dealing out with his marvelous long hand the fate of thousands of express packages, nor fairy Sam in the basement limping from leaden trunk to trunk, nor Joe at the counter with his nervous breakdown smiling cowardly at the customers, nor the grayish-green whale's stomach interior loft where we keep the baggage in hideous racks, hundreds of suitcases full of tragedy rocking back and forth waiting to be opened, nor the baggage that's lost, nor damaged handles, nameplates vanished, busted wires & broken ropes, whole trunks exploding on the concrete floor, nor seabags emptied into the night in the final warehouse.

II

Yet Spade reminded me of Angel, unloading a bus, dressed in blue overalls black face official Angel's work- man cap, pushing with his belly a huge tin horse piled high with black baggage, looking up as he passed the yellow light bulb of the loft and holding high on his arm an iron shepherd's crook.

III

It was the racks, I realized, sitting myself on top of them now as is my wont at lunchtime to rest my tired foot, it was the racks, great wooden shelves and stanchions posts and beams assembled floor to roof jumbled with baggage, --the Japanese white metal postwar trunk gaudily flowered & headed for Fort Bragg, one Mexican green paper package in purple rope adorned with names for Nogales, hundreds of radiators all at once for Eureka, crates of Hawaiian underwear, rolls of posters scattered over the Peninsula, nuts to Sacramento, one human eye for Napa, an aluminum box of human blood for Stockton and a little red package of teeth for Calistoga- it was the racks and these on the racks I saw naked in electric light the night before I quit, the racks were created to hang our possessions, to keep us together, a temporary shift in space, God's only way of building the rickety structure of Time, to hold the bags to send on the roads, to carry our luggage from place to place looking for a bus to ride us back home to Eternity where the heart was left and farewell tears began.

IV

A swarm of baggage sitting by the counter as the trans- continental bus pulls in. The clock registering 12:15 A.M., May 9, 1956, the second hand moving forward, red. Getting ready to load my last bus.-Farewell, Walnut Creek Richmond Vallejo Portland Pacific Highway Fleet-footed Quicksilver, God of transience. One last package sits lone at midnight sticking up out of the Coast rack high as the dusty fluorescent light.

The wage they pay us is too low to live on. Tragedy reduced to numbers. This for the poor shepherds. I am a communist. Farewell ye Greyhound where I suffered so much, hurt my knee and scraped my hand and built my pectoral muscles big as a vagina.

-- Allen Ginsberg, “In The Baggage Room At Greyhound” 1956

[shyphonics]

Salad Days - Chapter 1: I Against I Against I Against I

Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Baby-Punk AU ✨ (part 2 here!)

No use of y/n, no physical description of reader, fem pronouns

Put yourself in the shoes of a snarky, hyper-competent punk bartender with a tragic backstory (but it's totally not a big deal! Who needs therapy?? lol lmao 🤪)

Some loser from the ‘burbs comes into your bar, and against your better judgement, you decide to show him the ropes of the scene. Even though his band name totally sucks.

Rodrick is kind of a sad, insecure boy in this. He's on bad terms with everyone back home, and absolutely refuses to fully acknowledge it. He refuses to acknowledge any of his emotions. And his quickly growing crush on his new bartender friend…

Also it's 2005 because I say so. Flip phones and email babey B)

Lightly angsty. Lightly based on my own experiences bullshitting my way into the bar scene. Lightly based on my hyperfixation on punk history lol.

Songs for this chapter:

(I haven't written anything in YEARS so I'm sorry if this is bad lol. part 2 and 3 are almost finished oops so let me know if you like it)

/////

In a quest for the test to fulfill an achievement

Everybody's only going to pursue themselves

When the fact of the matter is they just don't care

To extend a helping hand to anyone else

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The kid turns around. He looks like a wet rat. His facial expression says he knows he’s in trouble. He's tall and kinda goofy-looking. His dark hair is messy, and his eyes are overlined in black.

“Uh, hi. I'm Rodrick. I'm in a band, I uh, I wanna play a show?” He squeaks out, waving a barely legible flier in the air.

“Have you been in touch with Mike?”

“Mike?”

“You gotta get in touch with Mike.” you cross your arms and lean against the doorframe, one foot kicked over the other.

He stares at you, guilty and confused. Your expression is throwing him off. Raised eyebrow, pursed lips. It’s the face of a disappointed mom, but you’re… young. And pretty?

“Do you want the email, or what?”

You break his thoughts.

“Yes! Email. Mike.”

You retreat to the office, rifling through papers until you retrieve a business card.

“Mike Morello. By the way, you might wanna change that band name.”

He looks at his flier, “Why? What's wrong with it?”

You look at him for a while, raising your eyebrows higher and higher, as high as you can, until he’s frustrated. His lanky figure is bouncing all over the hallway. Like a dog who needs to go outside. A big, dumb dog. You look at him in true disbelief. You can’t believe he doesn’t know. He has to know.

“What? What?! Stop looking at me like that!” His eyes are wide and frantic, begging you to say something.

“It sucks!” you laugh.

“It does not suck!”

“Dude, it totally sucks. It's gross. What kind of music do you even play?”

“Fucking rock n roll, baby!” He’s pissed off. It’s hilarious.

“Uh huh. And what are your influences?”

“Influences?”

“Influences. Motives. Backstory.” You clutch your hand into a self-important fist.

“What's with all the questions?” He nearly screeches.

“I'm preparing you for Mike. He's a cynical old fart who's mentally still in late 70s San Francisco. You need to impress him, get a good story going. He's not gonna put some suburban garage band up there.”

He frowns. That's exactly what they are…

“I-” he starts.

“That's exactly what you are, yeah. I know.” You smile, “I can smell suburbs, dude. You'll figure it out.”

“Can I have your email? Or y'know, your phone number or something?” he looks nervous, “Just for, like, advice.”

You cock an eyebrow, think for a minute, then grab a sticky note. It’s surprising after how riled up you got him, but boys are weird.

“Number’s too risky. What if you're a weirdo or something? Here’s my email.” you finish scribbling down the address and extend your hand.

“Cool. I’ll use it.” He nods, taking it from you very delicately. Weirdly careful not to touch your hand. Again, boys are weird.

“…cool. See you around. Maybe. Diaper boy.” you smirk.

Before he can retort, you shut yourself in the office. He stands there for a while, trying to think of something to say back, but nothing comes to him.

~

I am a patient boy

I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait

My time’s water down a drain

Everybody's moving

Everybody's moving

Everybody's moving, moving, moving, moving

“I think she’s saying we need, like, punk cred. It’s a punk bar, after all.” Rodrick leans back on their crappy couch. It was free on the side of the road when they were moving in.

“Pshh, we are so punk!” Chris chimes in. “Ward has a shaved head!”

He points at Ward's head. Ward crosses his arms and nods approvingly.

“She knew I was from the suburbs just by looking at me.” He puts his head in his hands.

“So what are you gonna say to the guy?” Ben asks.

“I dunno, I kinda wanna email the girl first and ask for advice.” Rodrick mumbles.

“Oh, sure. Advice.” Ben rolls his eyes.

“Yes! Just advice!”

“Is she hot?” Ward giggles.

Silence falls upon the room.

“Whatever! What are our influences? Punk influences!”

“Dude, you're, like, totally wearing a Dead Kennedys shirt!” Chris pipes up.

“Okay, yeah, I like Dead Kennedys.” Rodricks sighs, relieved. He knows ‘Police Truck’. Who doesn’t? It was in Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater for fuck’s sake!

“Okay! Uhh, shit, what else did she say… motive!”

“Dude, what?” Ben's eyes go wide, “Like murder?”

“No, dumbass, like why did we start the band?” Ward tosses a crushed beer can at him.

“To get girls? To, uhhh…” Chris trails off.

“To rock and roll! To tell everyone to fuck off and prove them all wrong!” Rodrick yells.

The rest of the guys give a resounding yeah! and raise their beers.

Rodrick opens his laptop, making a big show of stretching his hands. He’s gonna write a masterpiece. Löded Diper is gonna take over this town.

He starts typing furiously, ignoring all the little red squiggles appearing among his words. It doesn't take him long to slow down, though, and he gives up and passes the laptop to Ben. Rodrick’s mind is cloudy. He’s thinking about that girl at the bar. You’d been so… mean. But not? Did you like him? He doesn’t get it.

Heather Hills had made it incredibly clear she did not like him. In fact, she hates him.

He remembers the last day of senior year. He’d handed her a Löded Diper CD, masterfully engineered by the man himself in GarageBand, and asked her to sign his yearbook.

Are you being serious right now? You still owe me for my ice sculpture, pleb!

Oh, uh, right, he’d replied, how much is that again?

Four. Thousand. Dollars. And you’ll never make that much in your life, freak.

He grimaces as the memory infects his brain. Four thousand seemed like a lot for just some ice. He remembers fantasizing, though, about getting signed and nailing down a solid deal. Reimbursing Heather for the sculpture and so much more. Maybe she’d marry him. Hot rockstar with a hot, blonde trophy wife. That had been the dream. Until…

Well. Don’t focus on the past. The past sucks. The future is now.

“Rodrick!” Ben’s hand shakes his shoulder.

“Sorry. Um. I don’t know. I think it’s pretty good!”

Between the bones he had put down, and some additions from the guys, they have what they think is a pretty kickass email.

Rodrick’s mind is still elsewhere, though. The thoughts of Heather had kind of messed with him, and now he’s just thinking about home. He hadn't left on great terms. He really wishes everything could be better. The only support system he has is the band, but they don't talk about that kind of stuff. Not more than once in a blue moon.

He’s where he wants to be and everything. He's living his dream. But something still feels wrong. He feels a little empty.

Your emotions make you a monster

Your emotions make you a monster

Your emotions make you a monster

Your emotions make you a monster

#these boys are dumb and I love them #im having a lot of fun with this #hope u like it mwah #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #doawk rodrick #rodrick x reader #punk au #salad days #my stuff

[falconcoast]

an eye for an eye | childe x reader | one.

mission one, part one: the dotted line. 

masterlist

←previous | next →

the professor offers childe a contract to begin training for the heist with you. 

a/n: me when she uploads consistently :shocked: !!! anyways take this while i ignore my summer work and playing resident evil 2 xoxoxo 

tw: mention of knives, swearing

“I’m sorry, he’s my what?” you sputtered, exasperated. You looked over at your new partner, whose eyes were trained on your boss. And the code name “Childe”; who the hell named themselves that?! “Professor, you can not be serious--”

“I’m as serious as your C in Liyuean Post-Archon War Literature,” he answered easily.

You scowled. “Below the belt, Professor, below the damn belt.”

Childe let out a little huff of laughter beside you, quickly shut up by your elbow in his side.

“He’s a banker from Snezhnaya,” Professor Zhongli explained. “I’ve hired him for this especially important heist.”

You raised an eyebrow. Whenever Mr. Zhongli interviewed someone, he was thorough about it. As far as you knew, he had only thought about this in the seven months since the accident. Your own interview process lasted up to nine months--what kind of bullshit was this? And a banker? At least you had some knowledge of the artifacts you worked with before you ever got hired by the Professor. You opened your mouth to speak your mind on this.

He ignored you, pressing a button under his desk. The screen behind him flickered on, showing a revolving set of artifacts. Professor Zhongli smiled just at the sight of it.

“As you know, I am always interested in recovering the Geo Archon’s artifacts,” he smiled. Rolling back in his chair, he pointed. “A set of artifacts is said to have been wielded by Rex Lapis. It is called the Archaic Petra.”

“The first is the Flower of The Creviced Cliff,” he announced, “It was a miracle performed by Rex Lapis. When he came into power, a cynic of his asked him how he would make life bloom in the barren mountains. From there, a flower made of minerals and rock formed. It was a promise by the archon that he would always provide for the people of Liyue, even in desperate situations.

He tapped the button again, revealing a golden flower with orange lining and brown leaves on the screen. He crossed his arms, letting out a small smile. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“It’s stunning,” your partner repeated, to which you openly frowned. Kiss-ass. “I can tell why you like it so much.”

“Yes, indeed. It is for this reason that I feel the obligation to protect it,” Professor Zhongli vowed. His face fell, brows creasing. “Unfortunately, it seems like some buyers in Yujing Terrace want to keep this beauty to themselves. So much so that they wish to auction it during a gala in Fontaine.

“So, the first part of the mission, you will fly out to Fontaine and be staying in a branch house before going to the gala and auction. You two will be alone there. Consider it a trial between the two of you.”

Your lips turned downwards again in dissatisfaction, but you said nothing more.

“Is it safe to assume that I’ll be getting some training before then, Mr. Zhongli?” Childe piped up beside you.

“Yes, indeed,” he nodded. “Some workplaces require on-site training, but when you’re handling millions of dollars worth in artifacts, there’s little room for errors during the mission.”

He shuffled around to retrieve a schedule. “You’ll be taking on the identity of my graduate assistant shadowing my work. It’s identical to what your partner’s cover is right now. Confidential matters stay in my office. You do not discuss this with anyone else besides your partner and my in-house staff, Xiao, Ganyu, Xingqiu, and Chongyun. The museum staff stay out of this.”

“Understood,” Childe nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. Mr. Zhongli shifted to pull out a few papers and a black pen.

“Your daily schedule, Monday through Friday, will be as follows: 9AM, cognitive training. 11AM, stealth training. 1-2PM, lunch. 2PM, equipment training. 3PM, mock heist. And at 5PM, you will be heading home,” he said while handing over. “This job is not for the faint of heart, Childe. If you understand, sign here.”

With a swift swish of ink, it was done.

“When Rex Lapis struck down his spear, the earth quaked beneath him. No more was the mystical phoenix in the sky. It dissipated into shards of beautiful gemstones,” you opened your palm to your crowd of visitors, revealing a gemstone the shade of honey. They gasped, eyes wide in wonder. “According to legend, that’s why northwestern Liyue has an abundance of this precious stone.”

Straightening your back, you finished up your museum tour in the Liyue section of the mythology exhibitions. You answered a few final questions, and then the crowd dissipated into the main hall. Pocketing the gemstone, you took a deep breath. Although you loved history, it could be exhausting.

Walking back, you thought of where you were heading next and scowled. In a few minutes, you would be watching your partner in action for the first time. Mr. Zhongli had ordered that you learn how to adapt to Childe, and not the other way around. Goddamn rookie.

Staring up at the rotunda, the mechanical metal model of Rex Lapis huffed out a puff against his long, golden whiskers as he circled the room. Right, you shouldn’t be complaining about a partner when you hadn’t seen him in action yet. Or at least, that was what Rex Lapis would say to that.

You breezed past the Mondstadt exhibition, where a rush of wind tumbled against your hair. The android version of the Wind God flew around the room, attached to carefully puppeteered strings, playing his songs on the lyre and accompanied by the sounds of songbirds. His wings swept up and down, sometimes greeting the guests in a cheerful tone. The artificially intelligent model of Barbatos was the newest addition to the Teyvat mythology exhibition. Something about his fluttering hair and quick-witted banter made the exhibit a little bit more lively and reminded you of home. Besides the Liyue Legends exhibit and the mural, you would say that this would be one of the best parts of the museum.

Passing through, you slipped by rows of ancient clay pottery, preserved after thousands of years. Ducking through the traditional art collection, you looked at the carefully curated pictures of painted landscapes on hanging scrolls. And finally, as you moved closer to where you needed to go, you passed by the grand mural.

Slipping through the back, you took a sharp right, down into the curator’s basement. The dank smell of artifacts waiting to be reviewed by the Professor cast long shadows against the walls. Your nose scrunched up in disgust, unimpressed by the scent. At the end of the hallway was a single door with a rickety door handle. You pushed it open, immediately hit with the fresher smell of mint and cold ventilation and wide open space, revealing the headquarters of the Professor.

Four rooms surrounded the commons with tinted glass walls: one for physical training, one for a break room, one with several foam blocks, and the last one for equipment training. The floor was lacquered in a black sheen, so shiny that you could see your reflection in it. Golden lighting highlighted the chiseled molding. At the back end of the room, a set of glass desks were all together with computers displaying several new missions available and Professor Zhongli’s anticipated schedule for the day. The screens on the walls also displayed the news. Ganyu was at her desk, running an analysis of Childe’s cognitive abilities.

The archivist looked up from her position at her desk. “Good morning,” she greeted cheerfully. “How was touring around those museum visitors?”

“It was good. They seemed to really like the story of Rex Lapis and the phoenix,” you hummed nonchalantly. Looking at her screen, your eyebrow raised at Childe’s cognitive skills. “Above average aptitude? He sure as hell doesn’t show it.”

“You should give him a chance. He’s extremely trained in on-the-spot speaking, too,” she complimented. “Prompted him with what to say if he got caught in a scenario and if I were security, I would’ve let him go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said thoughtlessly, clearly not going to give him a chance. You noted the time on your phone: 1:55PM. He would be coming out of stealth training with Xiao soon. You scowled; you didn’t want to deal with this piece of shit.

“Ganyu, I really don’t understand why the Professor thinks it’s such a good idea to pair me up with someone,” you say, flopping back onto one of the rolling chairs. You kicked your feet up onto the desk, sighing out a groan. “I mean, I think I’m okay on my own. I do my job and get it done fast!”

Ganyu looked at you with an empathetic gaze, tucking her blue hair behind her ear. Then, she clicks her mouse around a few times before showing the statistics of your mission. “Well, comparatively, your work alone has an average score of 92, with a standard deviation of six. When you worked with your last partner, you averaged 100. A 100, Y/N. You know, if he were here, he would say he was disapp--”

“Stop, he wouldn’t say that! He would never say that about me!” You exclaimed before sitting back down and slinking down into your chair. The world began to feel much bigger at that moment, and you felt so very small. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that, Ganyu. I-I don’t know what came over me.”

Her mouth turned into a sad, little smile. “You’re still processing the accident. It’s okay.”

As if on cue, Xiao and Childe walked into the commons. He wore sweats and a compression shirt that fitted around his chest nicely. Your brand-new partner noticed the tension in the air immediately. “Woah! Did I miss something important?” he asked, tilting his head like a puppy.

“Do you ever shut up?” you mutter under your breath. You twirled your chair to face Xiao. “How’d stealth training go?”

“He’s got heavy footsteps. I’m pretty sure that you’d get killed instantly with where he’s currently at.”

“Hey, I said I was sorry!” Childe piped up.

“That said, that’s nothing we can’t fix, Chariot,” Xiao said, dusting off his hands. He looked at the rookie beside him. “It’s lunchtime. Go grab whatever you put in the fridge this morning.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Ganyu said, clapping her hands. “You have to go have lunch with Childe. Professor’s orders, not ours. Xiao, you know the drill.”

“Huh?” you nearly snapped your neck as you looked back at her. Before you can say more, Xiao took your chair and slid it smoothly into the break room. “Hey!”

Childe smiled as he greeted you, happy as ever. “You get to spend lunch with me? I thought you didn’t even like me!”

“I don’t,” you answer instantly. You took a deep breath in and out. The Professor asked you to have lunch with Childe. It doesn’t matter what you think. You frowned as you take out your own lunch from the fridge. You sat across from him as you opened up your salad, poking at your lettuce. “So, uh, art thieving, huh? Not every day that we get a new recruit here.”

He perked up happily. “Yup! Art thieving!”

“But you’re, uh, a banker, right?” you tilt your head. “How the hell did you get wrapped up in this whole thing?”

Childe stirs his lunch--a bowl of a Snezhnayan soup that was red as blood--pursing his pink lips. “Mr. Zhongli asked me to help him out with something after we met at a restaurant near the art institute.”

You stared at him. “That’s it? That’s all it took? Meeting some stranger and saying yes to him?”

“Well, Mr. Zhongli is just that interesting of a man!” he countered.

Something in your gut made you feel like he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but you dropped the subject. “You do realize that this is a helluva side gig, right? It’s high-risk, high reward. So, who are you doing this whole thing for?”

“My family. It’s not easy to move across the continent away from all five of them. But they need the support, and hey, I’m capable!” he shrugged easily. “A little more money doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Your gaze softened as you stared at your salad. “That’s sweet, actually,” you said quietly. Then, you snap out of it quickly. “And what about your physical experience? I’m sure Xiao’s been putting you through the motions with his training.”

Childe tilted his head, coral hair bouncing. “Nah, I’m good. I was a hockey player in high school and college. You know, there’s not much to do in that winter wasteland other than play hockey.” He chuckled lightly. “Damn. I miss those days.”

“Hockey, huh?” you said softly. “Not exactly a quiet sport, like tennis, but I do suppose it’s physically demanding. I have high hopes for your equipment training later today.”

“And what about you? I should get a question or two, right?” the redhead tilted his head. “Like, why do you have to have a code name while everyone else doesn’t?”

“You have a code name too, Childe. It’s not exclusive to me,” you rolled your eyes. “As for code names, I came up with them.”

“What? Why? Isn't it easier to use your real name?”

“No. I use a code name because it doesn’t compromise my identity if someone overhears me. And…real names mean you’re close to people.”

Childe looked at you, confused about what you meant. “What do you mean by that?”

You gazed at him as the dingy lighting of the break room highlighted his azure eyes. With a loud sigh, your eyes met and you clicked your nails against the wood of the table. “Don’t push it, rookie,” you said simply.

The rest of Childe’s training schedule went as planned, and you kept taking note of Childe and his behavior. He was always springy, bursting with energy. You received his energy with apathy, not caring for such a loud partner.

Equipment training went smoothly. He was able to wield a knife or two, manage his way around ropes, and could figure out how to use the bite-sized bugs for listening in on conversations. However, you had to cringe when he left a very noticeable hole in the wall from his use of a grappling hook.

However, the most interesting part of the day finally came: the mock heist.

You and Childe waited in the commons, staring at the end of the room. Childe looked at his phone before letting out a long whine. “Why can’t we go in already? It’s been ten minutes since he first went in there!” he complained. He had changed out of his sweats and compression shirt to tactical gear that matched your own.

You elbowed him. “The mock heist room takes a while to set up. It’s a large warehouse that Mr. Zhongli built for training. The floor goes in and out with randomized stages, ranging from fake city rooftops to small towns, to a model mansion, to mountain caps. He lays out an elaborate plan for a heist, and we’re supposed to follow it to a T.

“Where the hell does he get the money from?”

You shrugged. “He’s the best curator in the world and museums pay him a lot to just talk. Private organizations and charities pay him money under the table to pay us to steal back what they ask for. He spends that extra money to fund his private projects, like the Archaic Petra set we’re going after. Sometimes, he’ll even use some androids to simulate humans.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but his blue eyes shone with what you assumed was admiration. You let out a tut of appreciation to that. Finally, something you could agree with the rookie on.

Soon after, the door opened. “Afternoon, you two,” Mr. Zhongli greeted. “And Childe, welcome to your first fake heist.”

You stepped through the warehouse door first, getting a good look at the vast room from the top balcony at the front end. The set below, this time around, was a city block of rooftops. The buildings had blinking lights, complete with little sets of furniture inside them. There was a rotunda of a museum, several apartment buildings, a fire department, and a restaurant. The overhead speakers played the white noise of cars and honking. The lighting was dim, illuminated only by a thin strip of lights surrounding the parameters. That quickly changed when spotlights from the top of the warehouse swept over the rooftops. It looked exactly like a real city, just cut in half vertically.

You rolled your head and stretched your arms, ready for action. Childe looked in awe at the elaborate set. For any thief, this would be the ultimate toy.

“Today’s task is to get to the plastic statue somewhere in the set, and not get caught by the floodlights. There are clues hidden around to help you out. Each of the buildings is accessible, meaning that you can go inside the rooms. Make sure not to touch the floor-- we’re simulating the city rooftops, remember?” the Professor said. “I expect you both to work together on this because you are partners. No lone-wolfing, alright?”

“The hell are you looking at me for?!” you exclaimed.

“And finally, since this set is supposed to take place over city rooftops, we’ll have to simulate a fly-in with the harness and wires,” the Professor announced. “Chariot, show him the way.”

You sighed deeply, walking to the railing of the balcony. You grabbed two harnesses, buckling in Childe by the torso. “Ooh, a little handsy. I like it!” He grinned. You deadpanned at the Professor as if to ask him if this was really your partner.

You strapped yourself into your own harness, hooking both of you to high-tension wires. “The wires and harness will lift you up and bring you above the set. It will go across the set in a grid pattern, first horizontally, and then vertically. It will go fast, just like in real life. When you want to drop in, press that big button in front of the harness, and it will get close to the set for you to land.”

“‘Lift me up’? What the hell do you mean? You mean we’re gonna be dangling over that set?!”

The Professor looked at the both of you. “All ready to go?”

“Lift us up, Professor,” you affirmed. Childe screamed like, well, a child as the Professor hit a large, red button. He waved, smiling as he watched you two rise into the air.

The floodlights swept over the set as you held on to your harness. The same thrill of a heist overtook any annoyance you had with your new partner.

“So, like, are we gonna drop at the same time? Or are we gonna divide and conquer the block?” Childe asked, panicked looking at you. “Hey, what are--what the hell?!”

You began to press the button on the front of your harness, leaving Childe still up in the air.

And then, you dove right into the set, under the shadow of the floodlights.

taglist: @da-disappointment @neonnian  @escapeis @duckyyyx​

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact reader insert #childe

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trigun Stampede Episode 1 Reaction

Ok here goes. Idk how entertaining I'll be but... you know. This is mostly because I am having a weird time of things rn. Also, I have no background knowledge of this series whatsoever asides from that it might be a western and there was a 90s series and manga also, so if you're an og fan and this is painful... I am sorry lol.

But without further ado, let's go!

Oh. We're in space. ...ok then!

Well this just went poorly. Rip cryo-people.

Noooo mom :(

Ok so I can't tell; is the ship on autopilot or is Nai piloting it, because if it's the latter - you go, little guy, you got skill.

Cannot explain how funny this is. "I would like to use my communication skills more! I would like to make a positive impact!" <- every resumé ever if you want to get a job lol. Birth place "December"... interesting. There's also a "November" and a "July". Why all names of the months? But it's also May, like, temporally - is that not a bit confusing for people? I don't know what "PE081" means as a birth date... also she is. Tiny. Smol, even.

Ah, young idealist, older cynic dynamic. Always pretty fun.

These two have now both shoved papers in each other's faces. Whipping your coworker in the face with a well-timed paper can be a form of affection... I think?

HJHFBSJHC??????

Are none of them... warm? In these outfits? In the desert?

Bro's arm just fell off. "There it goes" Does this happen a lot to you sir???

Our protagonist, everyone.

"He's evil and destructive" Have you... looked at him. Like, don't judge a book by its cover but. Have you looked at him?

^He has kicked puppy energy.

I have nothing to say. Just look at this.

Map! I love maps!

Sand ocean??? Like there's no oceans? How do they get water??? Odd that July is here but not December or November. I'm assuming these are three of the "seven cities"? What are the other four? Are they also month-themed? Also some of these names are real funny. These people naming their towns and cities like "Creepy Valley" and "Stinky Lakeside". Actually seems quite normal to me tbh. And we are in Jeneora Rock atm it seems. Is it going to update as we go? That'd be cool! :D

Hjdfhvdjh he just stayed tied up for. Some reason. Roberto's face 😂

Oh, huh. Plants are. Biological organisms and not power plants. Like I assumed. So they were made but can't be made anymore because they don't have the knowledge or the technology? Odd...

His bounty is about the same as a new plant... how convenient...

Ok I know I said 'kicked puppy energy' earlier but you don't have to actually kick him...

Boy really does not want to hurt anyone :( (Hmmm now I'm starting to think he probably has at some point...)

Damn, that's some quick thinking Roberto.

Meryl: "Idk senpai this guy seems like he sucks" hjfhgnvj

Aw, buddy. Dropping the goofiness as soon as the crowd can't see him anymore :(

Hey I just realized his jacket has "SEEDS" on the arm like the spaceship! But he didn't have the coat when he got ejected so...... I'm sure I will find out later.

You guys cannot hear the quiet giggling I'm making right now. This shot plus the music - I was right about the western genre apparently, it's just on another planet.

BRO????? Where'd you pull the rocket launcher from?????? Wtf????? Why would you do that?????

Ah. He's lost his mind.

Roberto just bodily flinging Meryl into the alley ahdfihvs

He's out of bullets??? 😭

...he's crying.

Dang Meryl, you got a great throwing arm!

Oh shit. Yeah, I had a feeling he was actually extremely competent. He's holding back on purpose.

NO FRICKIN WAY. ONE BULLET WAS ALL HE NEEDED???

Ok now the animators are just showing off.

Oh. Hm. I was wondering where Nai went and. Hm. Yeah the whole accomplice thing might explain Vash's reticence to actually fight. His brother killed Rem? Yikes. He did offer his hand out to her at the beginning though... idk did he really mean for her to die along with the others? The music is hauntingly beautiful btw!

...his name is Millions Knives?

Aaaand that's a wrap on that! I'm intrigued and I feel like this episode answered absolutely nothing but raised a whole lot of questions, which is, well, what a first episode should do. The animation is really sharp geez. I generally prefer 2D animation but there's a lot of character to the expressions and motions - I think they really pulled it off!

Until next episode!

#story watches trigun stampede #trigun stampede #hope this is at least kind of fun? sorry I haven't been great about updating #I am juggling a lot of things atm #storyrambles

[mincedoaths]

last update: 11/17/23

oscar isaac. 44. cis male. he/him. ┊┊ cerberus corp has been watching GAEL ESAI TIUL-XOL.  some of the public has dubbed them DEAD RINGER because of ALTERNATE SELF-RESONANCE gifted by A CAR CRASH. having been an extra ordinary since 1995, they’re doing a good job at hiding THAT HE IS UNABLE TO SUMMON SPECIFIC ALTERNATE SELVES ON COMMAND. when they aren’t working their day job as a PROFESSOR OF ETHICS AT NYU, they are fond of JOURNALING and are never seen without A SCRAP PIECE OF PAPER WITH A NAME WRITTEN ON IT. at first glance they seem WITTY & PLAYFUL, though their close friends know them to also be NOSY & REBELLIOUS.  they consider themself a VIGILANTE ┊┊

001.  GENERAL

name: gael esai tiul-sol | nicknames: n/a | age:  44 | date of birth:  2/2/1979 | zodiac  aquarius sun, aries moon, cancer rising | place of birth: huehuetenango, guatemala | current residence: alphabet city | gender:  cis man | pronouns:  he/him | sexuality:  demisexual | occupation:  ethics professor at nyu | faceclaim: oscar isaac | height:  5'7" | tattoos: n/a | piercings:  n/a

distinguishing features:  wavy grey hair, beard, glasses, various scars parts on his body positive traits:  persuasive, independent, diplomatic, observant, empathetic negative traits:  pushy, impulsive, judgemental, mischievous, deflective labels / tropes: eccentric mentor, cool teacher, the idealist, the mccoy, to be lawful or good, beware the honest ones, sliding scale of idealism versus cynicism, talking to themself likes:  cats, train rides, the rain, old books, jazz, blues, dad rock, hole-in-the-wall restaurants, trying new recipes, photography, reading dislikes:  the concept of fate, being told what to do, silence, apathy fears:  losing himself hobbies:  he is constantly picking up and dropping new hobbies; most recent were learning guitar and photography habits:  taking off his glasses and cleaning them, putting a hand to his chin when he's deep in thought, scratching his cheeks lightly when he's embarrassed, pinching the bridge of his nose when he's feeling annoyed or overwhelmed

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

near death experience… 

[ tw car crash, references to drunk driving, death, parental death, bodily harm, blood ]

The memory is not one Gael cares to think about very often. The scars of that night are etched into the flesh of his face and arms, the depths of his heart, the very core of his entire being.

It started off as any regular night, a family of seven squeezed into an old beat up pick up, happy despite the limited space. His father was at the wheel laughing and promising that they almost hand enough for the down payment for the van he had been promising for the last five years. Gael, fifteen and forced to sit in his older sister's lap, rolled his eyes in mock annoyance only to get kicked by his younger sister laying over their older brothers' laps. He had laughed then, grabbed the ten year old's foot and attempted to pry her shoes off as she continued to kick once she realized he intended to tickle her. His mother had turned around in the front passenger seat to tell them to cut it out while the backseat erupted into chaos as his older siblings jumped into the fray. He remembers his father deep rumbly laughter, his mother breaking into titters and swatting at his father, telling him to stop encouraging them. He remembers how happy he felt, his own wheezing chortles as his two of his older sibling poked at his ribs and under his arms.

He knows it wasn't fault. Countless people have told as much. His siblings, his friends, the various therapists he's met throughout his life, the other Gaels in his reflection. So, yes, on a logical level he knows there was nothing he could have done differently to change the outcome of that night. That doesn't change anything for him, though. Doesn't remove the guilt. The worry that maybe if he hadn't distracted his parents, one of them would have noticed the other driver speeding towards them before it was too late.

The drunk driver hit the front of their truck at full speed killing his mother instantly and causing the truck to flip multiple times ejecting him and his little sister out of the car. He had felt helpless as he laid in the gravel and glass, his ears ringing and covered in his own blood. Lifting himself up with his arms into a sitting position he began to shake uncontrollably as the adrenaline drained from his body. His younger sister was wailing somewhere in the dark and he didn't know what to do or how to help.

Looking around he matched gazes with himself in the shattered glass around him and wished he knew what to do, that he could be a different person who could save everyone.

There was a set of eyes looking back at him in one of reflections that stood out; hard, steely eyes that were a complete contrast with the wide-eyed fear in Gael's. A voice that sounded like his own asked if they could help and Gael didn't know what else to do but say 'yes.'

[ /end of tw ]

power… 

Alternate self-resonance allows Dead Ringer to communicate with and transfer control of his body to other versions of himself from other dimensions as long as there is a reflective surface within eyesight. This gives him access to abilities and knowledge that the 'prime' version does not have. He can speak with alternate selves at any time, so long as there is a reflection and all other perimeters are met. And while there is a hypothetically unlimited number of alternate selves he can contact and speak to, only a handful of them have ever actually been given full control of the prime version's body.

The alternate version Prime is trying to communicate with must be sleeping or otherwise unconscious in their dimension in order for him to talk to them/transfer control. Because contact is made while the others are dreaming, the majority of the alternates do not realize that being contacted by Prime is anything other than a vivid dream when they wake up. However, while dreaming/unconscious the alternates do remember/retain memories of previous encounters with Prime.

The alternates have been given code names as they are all 'Gael.' The following is a list of the Dead Ringers that are most likely to be encountered in the field:

Prime: Main timeline Gael. Proficiency: PUBLIC SPEAKING, PERSUASION, DIPLOMACY, LEADERSHIP

Sergeant: A soldier of some sort. First alternate self that has ever taken control of Prime's body and because he has the most well rounded skills, he is the one who gets tagged in the most often. He doesn't like to talk about himself much but it seems that he's had military training from a young age. He used to be a fun guy but recently he's gotten really gloomy and it's becoming harder and harder for Prime to contact him so the other alternates have had to step in more often. Proficiency: HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT, FIREARMS, GUERRILLA WARFARE, WILDERNESS SURVIVAL, BOMB MAKING AND DISARMING, INFILTRATION, WIRETAPPING, RECONNAISSANCE, COUNTERINTELLIGENCE, SURVEILLANCE, PERSUASION, DIPLOMACY, LEADERSHIP, PHYSICAL ENDURANCE, BASIC FIRST AID

Anon: A hacker. Because he lucid dreams, he understands how Prime's powers work even when awake and is the one who is around the most. He works as the command center for Prime during missions to give call outs and figure out who else is around and could help during a specific situation. Proficiency: HACKING, COUNTERINTELLIGENCE, SURVEILLANCE

Scout: An urban explorer. He and Nomad tend to be the ones who get them to and from places depending on the landscape they are in. Thinks that they're a superhero in Prime's world is cool. Proficiency: PARKOUR, FREE RUNNING, ROOFTOPPING, ESCAPE ARTIST

Nomad: A mountaineer. In charge of getting them up to places that would be too dangerous for Acrobat or Scout to climb unassisted. Team mom. Proficiency: FREE CLIMBING, AID CLIMBING, KNOT TYING, PHYSICAL ENDURANCE

Bruiser: A mixed martial artist. Ironically, he is one of the most bubbly alternate selves. Proficiency: HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT, GRAPPLING, SUBMISSION HOLDS, TAKEDOWNS, PHYSICAL ENDURANCE,

Técnico: A high-flying pro wrestler. Only speaks Spanish. Hates that Dead Ringer's colors are all black. Proficiency: HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT, PHYSICAL ENDURANCE, GRAPPLING, SUBMISSION HOLDS, TAKEDOWNS, CUTTING PROMOS (INTIMIDATION, ENCOURAGEMENT), TAKING/SOFTENING BUMPS

Bolt: A triathlete. He doesn't really approve of the whole vigilante thing but cares about Prime's well being so he'll jump in to bail if need be. Proficiency: PHYSICAL ENDURANCE, SPRINTING, CYCLING, SWIMMING

Envoy: A stunt driver. Adrenaline junkie, he loves getting tagged in. That being said, he won't take unnecessary risks that would injure other people or Prime. Proficiency: MOTOR VEHICLES

Trapper: A huntsman. Rarely speaks when controlling Prime's body but more chatty in the reflections. Proficiency: WILDERNESS SURVIVAL, TRAP MAKING/DISARMING, KNOT TYING, FIREARMS

Acrobat: A gymnast. Kinda stuck up but a showoff so he helps out occasionally. Proficiency: ACROBATICS, ROPE/WIRE WALKING, PHYSICAL ENDURANCE

Doc: A emergency room doctor. Complains a lot. Team Dad. Proficiency: MEDICINE

Dove: A street magician. Just happy to be here tbh. Proficiency: SLIDE OF HAND, ESCAPE ARTIST, PUBLIC SPEAKING

drawbacks / vulnerabilities… 

Prime cannot summon his alternate selves on command and cannot compel an alternate self to take control of his body or even speak to him, they must also be willing and can 'leave the call' if they want to. Though Prime is not 100% certain how exactly initial contact is made between him and the alternates, the others have described it as an innate feeling of being needed and choosing to 'answer' the call. And because the majority of the alternates don't realize the are Dead Ringer while awake, there is no incentive for them to sleep in order to help Prime.

In order to transfer control with an alternate Prime, has to maintain contact with his alternate self in a reflective surface for three seconds. The reflective surface that is acting as a conduit for the alternate self in question must remain undisturbed/undamaged or the link will break. So while something like water could work as a means for a transfer, because the surface of water is easily susceptible to ripples that would distort the connection to that version of himself. If the reflective surface is something like a mirror, if the mirror is broken the alternate will be forced out and Prime will be back in control. And while the shards of this mirror could hypothetically be used as a conduit afterwards, it would require a new link to be created between Prime and an alternate.

The abilities that are transferred to Prime are limited to things Prime can realistically achieve with his own body. So in other words, he cannot gain the power of flight from an alternate who is also an EO in their dimension, but he could transfer control of his body to an alternate version of himself who is pilot and then fly a plane.

Communication between the alternates is not telepathic. Whoever has control of the body must speak out loud to talk to the alternates in the 'call' and whoever is in control is the only one who can hear the alternates if they speak back. Hypothetically speaking, an EO with telepathy may be able to hear the alternates since they are technically all talking to Prime from inside his head.

(if applicable)  cerberus corp… 

Dead Ringer has been approached in the field by Cerberus Corp but has rejected any recruitment attempts. He strongly opposes the current model/tactics Cerb Corp employs and hates that the level system is more about finding idols/brand ambassadors than people who can do the job well.

codename… 

The name 'Dead Ringer' was given to him by civilians after it was understood that the group of vigilantes they were seeing were actually just one person in different costumes.

003.  EXTRA

[ tw car crash, death, parental death ]

Both his father and mother died in the car crash that caused his NDE. After Sarge was given control of the body he was able to pull everyone else from the car and administer first aid.

Once emergency crews showed up, Sarge relinquished control of Prime's body. And it was assumed that adrenaline allowed Gael to save everyone despite his own injuries.

Gael's eldest brother (24) took custody of the minor siblings and he along with Gael's older sister (20) dropped out of college to be able to work to raise the others.

[ /end of tw ]

Immediately after the accident, Prime avoided interacting with Sarge as much as possible though he would see Sarge frequently. Sarge mainly just observed.

After a therapist encouraged him to try speaking to Sarge they both realized that something was up.

He wears a disguise while in the field which was made by another EO with the power to imbue the fabric with the ability to change to suit when an alternate swaps in. it's not particularity hi-tech looking so the base aesthetics are similar between the different alternate Dead Ringers.

Prior to the realization that Dead Ringer was one person it was thought that they were a coalition of vigilantes who dressed similarly to confuse Cerb Corp.

He has a tabby cat named 'gordita.' (chubby little girl)

#cc.intro #cc.task #(tfw you are in a party line with yourself) #(if you see any typos in this no you didn't etc. etc.)

[kosmicdream]

“Official” FFAK AUs

I only call these official because they’re the AUs I’ve developed the most in my free time and wanted to share a bit about them for fun! I’ve actually had these all for many years now, so you might have heard about them before if you’ve been following my tumblr for a while. Here’s some quick summaries of the premises. 

Last Hatched AU

The most Developed of the AUs, in this AU Knife (who is only known as Perkons in this version) is the last of the 5 Hekatons to hatch, and was able to fully incubate in his egg. His hair is prehensile, his eyes are fully developed, he can speak with a loud booming voice and is more top-heavy and muscular with a beard. He also can lay eggs, but does not wish to and fights with Dievas over this. In this AU, he is not raised by Good Leadman and instead hates humans. Velns is still the outcast and neglected by the others, as Lauma is very close with Perkons and wants him to be her mate. Velns grows to resent his family for abandoning him, and one day under mysterious circumstances, he vanishes from his restraints- as a certain Good Leadman breaks him out. It is unknown how he does so and what might happen as a result.

Dead End AU This AU is the one closest to canon, as it actually is just a deviation of events of chapter 1. Instead, when Rome enters the tunnel to kill Aeschylus, his gun jams and he is eaten instead. Due to Aeschylus’ memory almost being gone, he adopts Rome’s personality and memories.. And also gets pink hair/eyelashes and his bad eyesight, lol. In this AU, Knife likely is successful in killing both Romeschylus and the King, despite Locket trying his best to protect them.

Prototype AU This AU is the furthest from canon, as it not only deviates from history but also the entire structure of the story/characters. I try to replicate and build off of the “original” prototype concepts of FFAK and its characters/plots, which means more than half the cast simply do not exist in this canon. The hekatons have changed considerably, and there is only 3 of them - Knife/Spoon/Fork, which are now a trio of siblings with Knife as the oldest and Fork as the youngest. Their king is the king worm Chiron, who is known as being Dollop’s king (who appears as a horse.) Dollop still exists in this canon and is sort of a “cousin” to the hekatons, as she’s another species created by the same worm. The Hekatons are also only around 100-150 years old. While the 3 of them are technically the same age, Fork’s growth was stunted due to his lack of eyes (which were still removed by Knife) and was still raised by Knife. He does not like Wibbleworld in this AU, and instead is bitterly annoyed by the franchise. Overall, Fork’s personality in this AU is that of a cynical, sarcastic slease and does not hold much empathy for others. Spoon and Knife do not have a relationship, but Spoon still holds a flame for Knife. He also still explodes/splits when it’s believed that Knife is dead. (he isn’t, obviously.) Knife also is not on his quest to kill all hekatons, since there’s only 3 of them. They still work for Thumb, and primarily live in the Lobe with their King. 

Other big changes is that Celadon as we know her in canon does not exist and Cadmium is the only Helper who gets created during the course of the story. Cash also appears, but uses a Helper body, which are still part of society as a type of flesh robot. Crimson does not have any history with the helper. Chain/Aunt K also do not exist, but the red knife/fork/spoon weapons still do. 

Characters included in this canon: Rome, Antony, King, Rome’s Parents, Marc Aiguille, Good Leadman, Cash (but no cress), Priam, Dylan, Pluto, Ducky, Cadmium, Crimson, Rock (who is a human cyborg), Rem-Bots, Paper (who is not a worm), Penelope, Barfy, Sneezy, Clappy, Licky, Helix, Aeschylus ( who does not return after dying), Mr Rotten, Dollop, King Chiron, Knife, Spoon, Fork, Scissor.  Anyone not listed just doesn’t exist in this version. So yeah, it changes a lot of things!!

Anyway, i just felt like sharing a bit about the AUs !

#FFAK #feast for a king #dead end au #prototype au #ffak au #last hatched au

[comradekatara]

i was watching an interview with alex and ariel hirsch, and besides just being really sweet and delightful, it got me thinking about how these kinds of sibling dynamics are typically positioned in media, contrasting the relationship of dipper & mabel with that of katara & sokka, a connection that is not unfamiliar to me. i really enjoy the fact that these sibling dynamics are incredibly similar on paper, and yet are framed by their respective narratives in complete opposite ways.

both dipper and sokka represent the cynical, paranoid, analytical, mathematically-minded, neurotic, suspicious, strategic puzzle solvers who are deeply loyal to their sisters, would do and/or give up anything for them, who are extremely brave and heroic when the moment calls for it despite their constant cynicism and paranoia, who want to act and be considered adults by those around them, and who struggle with their perception of their own masculinity, intelligence, and heroism.

both katara and mabel represent the idealistic, adventurous, fearless, naive, sometimes selfish, sometimes selfless, optimistic, fun-loving, nurturing, compassionate beacons of light and hope who want to enjoy their childhoods for as long as possible, who develop a crush on every new cute boy they meet but would never demean themselves or their own autonomy (too much) for the sake of a man, who actively want to be a force for good in the world and are willing to fight to make that happen.

but the key difference in these dynamics is that dipper is the protagonist of gravity falls, whereas katara is the protagonist of avatar.

there are plenty of episodes of gf wherein mabel's flaws, insecurities, mistakes, and general moments for positive character growth are explored, but gravity falls is fundamentally about dipper's journey of self-actualization, even if mabel's anxieties about approaching adulthood do help to catalyze the climax of the narrative. as alex hirsch has stated himself, he identifies with dipper (and the fact that he intentionally imbued a lot of his sister into mabel makes this fact even more overt), so dipper is the one who learns the lessons in most episodes; he is the one with the flawed point of view that needs to be adjusted, whereas mabel's positivity and general loveliness is just there to complement dipper's insecurities. of course, this positioning isn't always the case – mabel is an extremely dynamic character in her own right, who has plenty of opportunities for growth, but she is often presented as an active force for good (albeit chaotic good). mabel and dipper are twins, and they do share an equal narrative weight, but it's also clear that mabel plays second fiddle to dipper thematically, even if her role as co-protagonist is integral. dipper is the one who does the opening and closing narration in the pilot and finale. dipper is literally based on the creator of the show himself.

conversely, katara is indisputably the protagonist of atla, and despite having a similar amount of screentime, sokka plays a supporting role. aang, katara, and zuko represent the narrative scaffolding of the show, with their arcs all complementing one another and coming together to construct the narrative itself. sokka's role is typically to support these characters, to the play the straight man or the everyman to their romantic heroes (episodes in the final season, such as "sokka's master" in katara's case, "the day of black sun" in aang's case, or "the boiling rock" in zuko's case, do reverse this dynamic by having the protagonists become supporters of sokka's heroic journey, but the typical dynamic nonetheless largely sees sokka in the supporting role, both in terms of narrative structure and in terms of his personal identity and relationships with other characters). while sokka is given episodes in which his internal growth is an A or B plot in the narrative, the majority of the series focuses on katara's growth primarily, showing her making similar mistakes and/or facing similar obstacles over and over again and reacting to and learning from them in new ways.

as one would expect from a protagonist, katara gets more screentime dedicated to her growth, getting three seasons to react to and explore her own internal struggles, as opposed to sokka, who grows and adapts to new information and challenges remarkably quickly, and only ever externalizes his feelings for the sake of helping someone else (often katara) heal. this isn't to say that sokka is underwritten, but rather that their respective roles in the narrative inform their characters: sokka's baggage perfectly explains why he internalizes his feelings (but now's not the time to go in-depth on that), and his adaptability, creativity, and intelligence allow for him to synthesize new information at a uniquely impressive speed. meanwhile, katara's arc is central to the show, so her internal struggles are necessarily woven more explicitly throughout the narrative. like dipper, she is the narrator, she is the thematic heart of the show. she learns from her mistakes, and then she repeats them anyway. she doesn't listen to sokka, even (especially) when he's right, because if she did, there would be no show!

mabel and dipper do argue about who's the sidekick (they are both each other's sidekick), and have a far more equal relationship than sokka and katara, which makes sense considering that they are twins, whereas katara is not only younger than sokka, but also inherently Special in a way that sokka is not. meanwhile, sokka knows and would willingly admit that he is the sidekick; in fact it is his entire identity. but what makes dipper & katara the protagonists of their respective shows is not their inherent specialness, but the fact that their characters are central to conveying the themes of their shows, which could not be more different from each other in content. even if these central dynamics feel similar, they are represented entirely differently due to the nature of the universes in which they exist and the messages the writers intend to convey, and well. i just find that fascinating.

ultimately, if mabel & sokka seem less flawed and yet far less appreciated than dipper & katara by the narrative (i would also say by fans, but audiences hate teenage girls who act like human beings as a rule, so...) it's because they are, intentionally so. sokka & dipper and katara & mabel may be far more similar in terms of personality, but sokka & mabel ultimately occupy a similar narrative role in relation to the narrators katara & dipper, as the ever-present siblings our heroes would be nowhere without.

#idk man im just watching gravity falls interviews on youtube #and i was gonna write like one little paragraph about this #and then i ended up..... uh #writing more. #synthesis #analysis #katara #sokka #katara&sokka #sokka and mabel have always felt like the narrative underdogs to me iykwim #like i love katara and dipper so much #but i feel like sokka and mabel both deserve a single shining spotlight on an empty stage so they can sing 'my way' #but maybe thats because i will always identify more with the sidekick no matter what #i am just a sidekick coded person! and i embrace my truth <3 amen